#he just wants jon and will do anything to get him

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Could I request for Clark? That the reader is expressionless. Also that the reader is calm, nurturing. But they only show their expressions when they are embarrassed, could it be spicy too?👀👀👀…

Why yes, I can😁 im so sorry this took so long, my mid year exams are actually kicking my ass😔

Heart on Your Sleeve

You're not really sure when it started- Maybe it was Thanksgiving with Martha, Jon, and Clark. His parents are both such lovely people, never thinking twice before helping out or offering a meal. And you are, too- Martha was absolutely overjoyed when Clark brought you over for your first family holiday. Clark was pretty sure his mother was going to cry out of pure joy when you offered to help cook and wash dishes.

"How's that grease comin' off for you, darling?" Martha's voice has always been sweet, like a bird chirping upon a window sill. If you didn't know the woman, you'd almost think that the honey-ish tone of her voice was mocking. But you did know your boyfriend's mother, and you absolutely adored her.

"It's alright, Ma." Your hands were busying themselves with the pans piled in the sink of hot, soapy water. The response was natural, coming without any thought or malice behind it.

Martha was silent for a short while, her eyes taking a moment to study the completely uninterested look on your face. Not that you knew you were making it, of course- it's just how you look when you're not going out of your way to think about your face while responding to someone. But coming from Smallville, where everybody always shared a smile even in the worst of times, it hurt a little.

When Martha slipped out of the kitchen, you just presumed it was to speak to Clark. About what, you honestly couldn't say. But as far as you were concerned, you just made some small talk with the mother of the man you plan to marry.

Later, after the dinner had been served and everyone was enjoying dessert in the living room, you noticed Clark had been unusually quiet beside you. He had his arm around your shoulders, but there was something subtle in his gaze that you couldn’t quite place. He seemed distracted, like he was looking at you but also through you.

“Clark?” You glanced over at him, noticing how his jaw was slightly clenched.

He blinked a few times before turning his head toward you. “Yeah, sorry, just… thinking.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot today.” You nudged him with your shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. You weren’t sure what had gotten into him, but you were sure it wasn’t anything serious. Clark was usually the first person to brush things off, so this sudden shift felt odd. “What’s going on in that handsome head of yours?”

Clark hesitated, then his eyes flicked to his parents in the next room. They were laughing and talking, clearly in their element. He sighed, his hand tightening slightly around your shoulder as if unsure how to begin.

“Earlier, with my mom,” Clark started, his voice barely above a whisper. “She… uh, she told me that you didn’t seem too happy to be here.”

You blinked, confused. “What?”

Clark bit his lip, clearly uncomfortable. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it, but she thought you looked like you were upset. Like, I don’t know... that you didn’t want to be here?”

You felt a pang of guilt twist in your stomach. The last thing you ever wanted to do was make Martha think you were ungrateful for her hospitality. “Clark,” you started, but he held up a hand, stopping you.

“It’s not that I think you did anything wrong,” he said quickly, looking at you earnestly. “But, you know, my mom… she’s just so used to everyone smiling all the time around here. She probably took it the wrong way.” He smiled softly at you. “You know how she gets.”

You winced, hating the idea that your default expression might have hurt anyone, least of all Martha. You never meant to come off as cold or unappreciative, and it stung to think that she could have seen it that way.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “I didn’t mean to make her feel like that. I really like her, and I love being here with all of you.”

Clark chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I know, I know you do. It’s just… well, you’re not the most expressive person, are you?”

You looked up at him, feeling your cheeks flush slightly. “I’m not trying to be. I’m just—this is just my face.”

Clark grinned. “I know. You don’t have to smile 24/7 to show you’re happy. It’s just, well… it doesn’t always come across like that.”

You sighed, feeling a little embarrassed. “I wish I could control it more. I don’t mean to come off as grumpy or upset.”

“I know,” he said gently, his tone soothing. “But maybe you could try to be a little more… expressive? For my mom, I mean. She just doesn’t always get it.”

You chuckled softly, imagining Martha’s over-analytical gaze as she scrutinized you. “Okay, I’ll try to work on it. Maybe I can throw in a smile or two for her next time.”

Clark laughed, his fingers brushing your arm lightly. “You don’t have to force it, but… yeah, a smile wouldn’t hurt every now and then. Besides, you’ve got the most beautiful smile, you know that?”

You couldn’t help but smile then, albeit a little sheepishly. “You really think so?”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against your temple. “I know so.” He pauses for a moment to give your temple a proper kiss, his large fingers moving to gently massage at your shoulder. "I know just how beautiful... all... Of you is," He whispers the last part into your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"Clark, cut it out," you chastise, giving his arm a playful smack as your cheeks burn red. Even as you voice the order, you both know you don't mean it. But you couldn't have your boyfriend being so playful with you right now- not with his parents sitting on their respective recliners merely a few feet away.

"Smiley, over here," Clark starts in a louder tone looking at his parents as one of his hands rubs at your back slightly, "isn't feeling too well. I think we're going to head up to bed for the night and see if she's feeling better in the morning." What. Utter. Bullshit.

It's not like Martha and Jon didn't notice, either- they were young and in love once, too. Either way, they'd be damned if they called you and their lovely son out for whatever may happen in his childhood bedroom. "I hope you start feeling better, darlin'," Despite knowing the lie Clark had just told her and her husband, Martha still mustered up the same empathetic look she's always given. In a way, it reminds Clark of the few times he got sick as a child.

It isn't long before Clark is practically carrying you up the stairs, giving his mother a small nod of acknowledgement as you both pass. It's funny, in a way, just how easily he could sweep you off your feet- literally. Before you knew it, the familiar 'click' of the lock on his door can be heard before he places you gently on the bed.

"Just how much of a reaction can I get out of you tonight, hm?" His deep, smooth voice vibrates against your lips slightly as he leans down for a kiss. The pressing of your lips is soft and intimate with his body hovering over yours. You could tell he wasn't laying his full weight on you. In fact, he'd probably suffocate you if he did. You'd be lying if you said you didn't want him to suffocate you.

You pretend to give a short, thoughtful look as you pull away from the kiss slightly, your hands coming up to rest on his broad shoulders. "Depends..." You whisper playfully against his lips, your breath brushing against him slightly in the close proximity, "how hard are you willing to try, Superman?"

In the darkness of his room, you almost could have sworn his eyes glowed red at the tease. There wasn't much time to ponder on it, however, as his lips come back down to connect themselves with your own again. Like last time, the kiss is slow and intimate, just like most of your shared kisses are. The soft presses of your lips goes on for what seems like forever, the two of you simply basking in the moment.

As always, your hands had started to wander. Trailing down from his shoulders and resting on his lower back. Clark nearly lets out a moan as your nails gently scratch at his lower back, lifting his shirt just enough for you to feel his bare, heated skin. "Take it off, baby..." Your begging is almost like music to his ears as you pull away slightly, cheeks flushed and breathing labored.

He can't help but let out a soft huff of a laugh at the request, however, muttering something along the lines of "Somebody's getting impatient." Clark doesn't hesitate to comply, though, as he grabs the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head. Just like always, his torso is perfectly chisled from his collarbones all the way down to his V-line.

God, his V-line. You were practically salivating like a rabid dog as the article is thrown off the side of the bed and forgotten about. "And here I thought you were a goody two shoes, Smallville," your voice came as a tease in the dark room, both of your bodies just barely illuminated by the moonlight streaming from the windows as your hands reacher out to trail over his sculpted chest.

At that, Clark merely lets out a snicker. "That's a new nickname," he muses, leaning back down to nudge your shirt up your stomach with his nose. Light as a feather, his lips start to trail kisses up from your stomach, leading all the way up to your sternum. As he reaches the wire of your bra beneath your shirt, his hands mobe to gently lift the clothing over your head. "Not that I'm complaining, beautiful." He adds jokingly, his large, warm hands snaking their way under your back to unclasp your bra.

As your breasts are freed from their confinement, they move slightly in the pale moonlight. Now, it was Clark's turn to salivate at the sight of you shirtless. Every time he manages to get you out of your bra, it's almost as if he can't keep his mouth to himself. Immediately, his lips are latched around your nipple as his tongue flicks across the hardening bud. At the same time, his free hand works at gently massaging your other breast.

"Clark..." You mewl softly, the sound barely more than a hushed whisper of wind in the night. Your fingers are threaded through his hair, tugging softly at the black, curly locks.

At that, he lets out a quiet groan. Hair pulling has always been his biggest weakness in bed. As he pulls away from your now swollen and flushed nipple, he can't stop his hands from wandering beneath the waistband of your pants. As if on second nature, the tip of his middle fingers gently rubs at your needy clit. The motion is slow and languid, his touch bately there to satisfy your needs.

"Honey..." You let out a soft plead, the sound barely loud enough for even him to hear. But before you can beg for more pressure or a faster pace, a long, thick finger makes it's way into your weeping hole. "Oh, fuck-" the whine comes out without a warning, the bliss of his middle finger gently stretching your gummy walls coming with just a hint of pain.

"Shhh..." Clark soothes softly, his other hand leaving your breast and moving to gently cover your mouth. "As much as I love that sound, darlin', I bet Ma and Pa would rather not hear it." The tease comes without any sort of malice, but it's enough to have you clenching around him. Even with the slight pain that always comes with having sex with him, Clark always takes his time prepping you like the pillow princess you are.

As his finger speeds up slightly and a second one is added, you can no longer keep back a quiet string of moans and pleas. "So good..." The whine is like music to his ears, spurring him on to push gently on that spongey spot inside of you and making you arch your back off of the bed. "Oh fuck... Honey, please. Please, Clark." The dragging of his fingers along your tight walls was almost rhythmatic as they moved in and out.

Clark would be lying if he said he didn't smile every time he brought you close to an orgasm. It was still just so amazing that he was the one you trusted to be like this with. Not any other man or woman, not some over-used sex toy you used to have sitting in your nightstand. You used him, and only him. "I have you, beautiful..." he reassures gently, his fingers staying at just the right pace to have you seeing stars. Everything about sex with Clark was always so reassuring and calm, like the way the thumb belonging to his hand covering your mouth gently caresses at your cheek.

In all honesty, you think that might have been what did you in. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, making your toes curl and push clenching around his thick digits. It was almost funny, the way he had your thighs shaking and quivering without even taking you out of your pants. "Fuck... fuck fuck fuck fuck..." your whines are obscene, even when covered by his large, calloused palm. Even now, when you're wailing because of his fingers, he's still so gentle and mindful with covering up the sounds.

"There we go, sweetness," he coos softly, pressing a barely-there kiss to the side of your abdomen as his fingers slow their pace, "Shh... Inside voice, darlin'. We don't want to get caught before we even have any real fun, do we?" He was being a tease, and he knew it. You almost let out a whimper as his fingers slowly exited your puffy folds, missing the feeling of him filling you up like nobody else can.

The sound was quickly caught in your throat, however, as he removes his hands from your quivering body to instead begin removing his belt. Getting his pants off was always exciting, especially when his fully-hard length was already making an outline through his jeans. God, his jeans... They outline his thighs and ass in just the perfect way to show off his muscles.

At the same time, you took this as an opportunity to remove your own bottoms. Hooking your thumbs into the waitband of your pants and lifting your hips slightly, you sensually push the fabric down while making eye contact with Clark. When you did finally glance down again, however, you certainly noticed the wet patch in the center of your panties from your previous orgasm.

Before you could unhook your ankles, however, Clark beats you to it. Your boyfriend has always been charming like that, never letting you lift a single finger for even the simplest of tasks. As he leans down to press a kiss to your shin, you notice that he reaches over to his nightstand to slip your soaking wet panties into the top drawer. "Gotta keep myself distracted in the Watchtower for that next mission somehow," he jokes softly, finally removing his own underwear.

As always, your mouth waters at the sheer girth of his cock. Something about him is just so pretty and handsome in a way impossible to describe. "Get back down here, Smallville," you almost seem like a petulant child as you reach up for him, making little grabby hands before they finally take their spots on his broad shoulders.

Clark complies without a second thought, holding himself up on his forearms to hover above you. With one hand, he reaches down to gently rub his hardened cock along your clit. Still a little sensitive while coming down from your high, you can't help but let out a soft shiver.

And he has the audacity to chuckle.

"Fourth reaction of the night, in case you were wondering," he mutters mere centimeters away from your lips, your breaths mingling in the close proximity. But before you could give a sassy quip back, his plush lips are pressed passionately against yout own. Ever the caring boyfriend, Clark has always resorted to kisses like this to distract you from the burning stretch of his cock into your tight little hole.

Even with his mouth against yours in an attempt to take focus off of any uncomfortable feeling, you still find yourself gasping into the kiss as his tip slowly nudges into you. The moan you make as he slowly slides himself into you inch by inch is boarderline phonographic, and there's no doubt Jon and Martha were able to hear it downstairs in the living room. But even so, Clark doesn't stop until he's finally bottomed out in you.

He immediately feels guilty, however, as he sees those tears forming in the corner of your eyes while pulling away from the kiss. "Shh..." Clark hushes softly, bringing one of his hands to gently wipe away any of that salty, fallen liquid before pressing his lips to your forehead. "You're okay, sweetheart. You can take it... You're doing so well, honey."

Although it takes a couple of minutes for you to fully adjust to his length and girth with mountains of praise and reassurance, you don't regret it for a moment. "'m ready..." You whisper as softly as you can, already feeling your cheeks heat up in utter embarrassment knowing that your future in laws might've heard you moan while getting laid by their son.

With a short nod, Clark rests his forehead against yours and slowly pulls his hips back, changing their angle ever so slightly before sliding back in. In this position, his cock head is able to kiss your cervix with little to no effort. He can't even stop his own breath from becoming labored with just how well your tight pussy accommodates to him. Something about his huge cock being the only one to make you whine like this just seems to get to him as his hips get into a slow, expiramental rhythm.

Even at such a slow, languid pace, Clark is already letting out soft grunts of his own. Each sound is almost lewd, despite their near-silent nature. You almost envy his super-hearung ability, in a way; how is it fair that he gets to hear your noises while you barely catch his? Taking matters into your own hands, you gently scratch at his back with your nails. You couldn't hurt him, even if you tried, but the thought of you leaving marks like that for everybody to see was something he loved to indulge in.

"Gonna leave some marks, beautiful?" his lips brush against the shell of your ear as he speaks, his hips beginning to pick up a bit more speed. At this rate, your eyes are nearly rolling back as it is, nevermind with Clark's teasing added into the mix. "God, the League won't be able to leave me alone once they catch sight of them. Is that what you want, sweetheart? For them to know just how good I make you feel?"

Between soft moans and mewls, you find it in yourself to nod frantically. "So good, Clark..." You find yourself whining as you pull him closer, moving to wrap your legs around his hips. As he shifts slightly to better accommodate your chosen position, the tip of his cock manages to perfectly kiss that gushy, spongy spot inside of you. "Oh, god... Just like that. Don't stop, honey. Please don't stop."

As your thighs quake around him, Clark can't help but pick up the pace just enough to have you arching for him. In all honesty, he swears his own eyes are almost rolling back as your pretty little pussy takes him so well. "That's it, beautiful..." the words are nothing more than a hot pant against your ear, his childhood bed sqeaking slightly as he rocks his hips into yours.

That tension building in your lower stomach was near it's snapping point, ready to release any stress and tension you may have had. "So close..." the whine is barely audible, made for his ears only. And something about only him being able to hear just how worked up he's gotten you really gets him going.

His middle finger is rubbing circles around your clit in an instant, putting just enough pressure to have your hole pulsating around him. "Yeah, darlin'?" he coos, unable to hold back the soft grunts and moans escaping his own mouth, "Go ahead, beautiful... I have you. Cum all over my cock, honey."

That was certainly your breaking point.

You tried to hold it back, you really did, but the loud moan that came with your orgasm came without warning. Your back was so pretty as it arched up for him, almost as if you wanted to feel all of his skin against yours at once. "Oh my god," the clenching of your twitching pussy around him was absolutely divine, and who were you to stop him from getting his fill?

Even as your eyes rolled back and you began to see stars, you could still hear his nearly incoherent babbling. "Might just have to fill this pretty pussy up with my babies..." you think your hear, but Clark's near-orgasm rambling has always been a little choppy. "Gonna have our own farm with kids... N' get married. Fuck, won't have to stay quiet because there won't be nobody around-" as he cuts himself off with a loud groan, hands grasping desperately at your shoulders, you knew it wouldn't be long until he came.

And he certainly filled you. "Shit..." the groan is barely coherent a his ropes of thick, warm cum shoots out of his overstimulated dick. In all honesty, neither of you had thought to use a condom. Not until it was far too late, at least. Oh well, it's like Martha would mind having a grandkid or two running around during the holidays next year.

You're sure her face would light up if you told her about getting pregnant with Clark's kids.

At least, it would if you could ever face her after the things both her and Jon have heard.

Masterlist

[magnusunpopularopinions]

I'm not sure how unpopular of an opinion this actually will be but let's go:

I think people over inflate how bad of a person Elias actually is, and in comparison, treat characters like Basira, Nikola, Gertrude, etc much more softly. Don't get me wrong, Elias isn't the best person and his morals are questionable, but they're questionable because he hasn't been human in a good 150 years. His behaviour is in line with every other avatar we see, if a bit more held back violence wise. He only purposely hurts anyone if he feels it interferes with his plan (Which many Main avatars we see attempting a ritual don't do, like Nikola or even Peter in his day to day), or alternatively, puts Jon in an awkward position information wise. The way he handles Jon's ascent into becoming the Archivist isn't even that manipulative. It's less straightforward, yes, but he has his obvious reasons for it (Wanting Jon to Know and See and Understand without having it be explained to him, which would end with him relatively weak and vulnerable). The reasons themselves aren't Great for Jon, but otherwise, he handles himself in a very passive and socially acceptable way. He doesn't go through with doing anything about Not!Sasha, not because he didn't want to, but because there was literally no way he could have fired her or done anything to her without it being a tiny bit suspicious and causing a bit of an Archival uproar. Not doing anything about Prentis was his own fault, I'll be real, but I think he may have genuinely underestimated the amount of worms there are and I doubt he actually considered that the table may house the Not-Them, as he seemingly didn't expect Sasha to be taken. On top of that, him being all 'mysterious' during the Unknowing was just him having issues trying to figure out what he can or can't give Jon to help him figure things out because he genuinely can't Know these things due to the conflicting nature of the Stranger. Otherwise, all of his points of interest are very Avatar based. He eats, he works towards his ritual, and he works with others to make it happen. All things that other avatars do, that don't get overinflated into being fully 'evil'

TL;DR: I'm an Elias enthusiast and think he's just following his nature as an avatar, even if that mainly affects Jon and the archival team (Saying this as I'm relistening and nearly done with s4 lmao)

Thanks for sharing! Let’s chat!

I see what you’re saying, but may I also remind anon of… well:

“Apologies for the deception Jon, just had to make sure you were reading….”

and

[BPM]

and a couple other incidents I could probably come up with after I’ve published this.

Now, I’m not trying to ignore the ESSAY anon submitted full of evidence to back their point. I’m rocking with it- I’ll agree with you that Elias was simply doing his avatar job and withholding info, but I must say, I disagree with you on one point: Elias is a violent man.

Yes, his violence has a “purpose” but we must remember that even though Elias isn’t human, we are. The other characters (for a while and to an extent) are. The violence we do see from Elias is cruel and unfeeling. You can blame it on his avatar-ness all you want anon- and in fact you did an excellent job proving that he’s just an avatar doing avatar things- but the violence…. Elias is, imo, a very cruel being.

So, to summarize: I agree with anon on certain parts- Elias’s actions throughout the series reflect for sure that he is definitely not human. He’s an avatar working towards a goal. But I’ll disagree with anon when they say Elias isn’t that violent of a person/that the fanbase hypes up how evil he is.

In fact, I think the violence backs up anon’s point even further- the fact that he IS so cruel proves that he hasn’t been human for a while.

Hope that made sense- again, thanks for sharing and keep your words kind!

-E

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Edit: Hey gang! Wanted to add a few words here just to further state my thoughts on the matter and I’ll leave it with anon after that :)

Elias is a very complex character! Boiling him down to his avatar-ness or violent tendencies was not my intention, just my response to the gist of what anon was saying! I agree with a lot of the conversations being had in reblogs and replies!

I can’t say for sure what anon meant when they said that characters like Basira, Nikola, and Gertrude get “treated softly” VS Elias, but I do find it interesting they chose that set of people! All three women (feminine?), but not all avatars. I’m not sure if anon meant to do this- compare only women (feminine characters) or compare a mix of avatars and humans- but it is how it’s being received: with the focus on anon’s mentioning them.

In my own personal experience, I see quite a bit more about Elias than I do Basira, Nikola, or Gertrude, and when I do see them, it’s typically because they are with other characters. Basira especially.

I will agree again with myself though- Elias is a cruel and violent guy. I think he quite often is more violent than he should be (but that is the scary part- the fact that he IS so violent and ok with it.)

And I will agree with myself again- Elias was working towards total global domination and frankly, even if you are fond of him, I think there’s still plenty of reason that the fanbase may not treat him “softly.” He’s not a particularly squishy character.

(I do like Elias, he’s an interesting character and lots of fun to think about (I’d like to imagine sometimes that he lives a lot like Jim from the American Office TV show does and just deadpans into non-existent cameras when the staff does something or his printer runs out of ink or his coffee spills, etc.))

I just think that there are layers to anon’s thoughts and that there can be both an agreement and a disagreement on different points.

And please, even if you disagree with an opinion, try and keep your words kind! You guys have been a lot of fun to talk with so far and I’ve loved the discussions I’ve had with you all!

Thanks!

-E (again)

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

68 -The Winterfell Sept

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

Length: 19k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, political tensions, past character death, references to breastfeeding, smut, p in v, slight exhibitionism kink, possessive behavior and tendencies

Notes: We have some political subplots brewing, so have patience as we start to explore a lot of that once more now that the chaos has settled. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The claim that she was not trying to cause such issues felt a bit on deaf ears, and as well, a mute response. Forcing her to find another way to elaborate on the manner. Pushing from where she sat, Sansa begun to pace along the shorter length of the room which you both sat in, the knowing between you both that much of this discussion would rely on her ability to listen and understand, but so far it seemed she struggled with it.

It almost had been doing well. The arguing had lessened, she and her sister were getting along much easier and yet it was as if she had flipped. A part of her brain sparked alive and now found herself with the same problems that had no solution which was coming from her. There was no solution, but she tried anyways as if it was going to change anything.

But turning somewhat back to you, she tried to elaborate on her failing points. “If you and Robb had an heir, then Jon wouldn’t even been King in the first place.” For a moment her eyes widened a little, the thought that by bringing it up she may have crossed a boundary. She did, but this was not the time nor setting in which to elaborate on that. Already getting one lecture she did not need guilt added atop it as you sighed deeply.

“If my son had lived, Jon still would be in the exact same position as he is now.”

Her brows furrowed, you tilted your head to the side just slightly in elaboration. “Before King Robert passed, he had named your father to rule as Regent until his rightful heir came of age. He didn’t want to rush his son into ruling until he was properly a man.” Her eyes narrowed in the question of what you were getting at. “If neither Robb nor his son lived, Jon was to rule as his heir. If his son had lived, Robb had still named Jon to rule as Regent until his son came of age. Meaning, we would’ve been in this exact same scenario right now. Robert dying did not suddenly make Stannis or Renly the Regent, he named your father. As Robb named Jon.”

You could see in her eyes the struggle to come to an acceptance, as if she understood the words but did not yet grasp what they meant, or simply she did not wish too. For the woman she had returned as, Sansa still stood there looking much like a girl not getting what she wanted and not understanding why she could not simply have or take it.

“But things are different now.”

Sighing lightly, you glanced over at the slumbering bundle nearby. He wasn’t even what she was referring too, but it was true all the same. Finding her eyes once more, you nodded only once, leaning your forearms against the wooden surface in front of you, the temptation to fidget your fingertips about with one another having to be swallowed down. “What would you like me to do, Sansa? I was there when Robb decided this, I supported it. And now you stand there hoping I will go against what were his final wishes and what? Take away everything Jon has earned and accomplished? Tell him that he was a placeholder until someone with a true Stark name came along as if everything he’s dealt with since becoming King hasn’t revolved around that very fact?”

A lightness of doubt, or perhaps guilt came into Sansa’s eyes and her plead was far less of a petulant whine then before. “That wasn’t what I meant for this to be about-”

Cutting her off, you pushed from the seat. “That is what all of this is about.” Circling around, you now leaned against the front of the desk, hands braced behind you on either side of the edge. “If Jon wasn’t a bastard, or if he had taken the Stark name when he became King, would we be having this discussion? Would you be questioning his right were he calling himself Stark?” She did not have an answer right away, but you did not need her to vocalize it.

You had seen it all her life. In part, for some of her years if was not Sansa’s fault. Not truly. Much more like her mother then her other siblings, too did Sansa learn from her how to feel about Jon. Catelyn’s reasons for looking down on him were complicated as they were simple. You sat with her, listening to the true weight and shame and heavy hearted guilt as she confessed that she failed at her promise. She promised to the gods to let him live through his bout of the pox, and when he did, she could not keep it. That she blamed herself for the horrors upon her family, because it was a punishment for being unable to keep her promise.

It was not an excuse, but something you felt for regardless. She did not chose to not be a mother to Jon, she simply never had it in her. She looked down to a baby boy who was not hers, and could not love him and she allowed that shame and guilt turn into regret into frustration into something resentful and despising which never went away. It was not that Jon was a bastard that she hated, it was that a bastard of her husbands, was brought to be raised amongst her own children. An affront to her perfect family, and as a Tully, their words were Family, Duty, Honour. Family came first, and she resented that Jon was raised amongst hers when he wasn’t from her. It was simple what the issue was, but it was complicated to the woman herself, and while you would never defend it, you understood and even sympathized with it.

Catelyn was put in an impossible situation, and just maybe, she did the best she could. Even if her best was resentful, full of spite and neglect, it was her best. Sansa however, learned without the feeling. She learned to look down on Jon, but without the complexities of motherhood, her views were simple. Jon was lesser then, because he was a bastard. Catelyn’s issue with Jon had nothing to do with him being a bastard, but Sansa only took that aspect of it as the truth to follow.

Looking away slightly you detected a tick in her jaw. Whatever it was she wished to say, wisely, she kept it to herself. Voice soft and a bit distant, perhaps you thought, Catelyns strategy may work. A painful honesty to put something into perspective, if not for now, but maybe eventually. “Before we got married, Jon and I, he tried to persuade me to not take his name.” Sansa turned somewhat to look at you with a furrowed brow as you continued. “He said there was no honour in it, and going from one powerful name to another shouldn’t be followed by taking a bastard name for his sake. That he didn’t want to force my children to take his name.”

Pointing out the obvious, Sansa seemed to say it with a sense of understanding as if prompting you to continue before she made any wordful judgments or conclusions. “But you did take it.”

You nodded once. “I did. I didn’t hesitate to take his name either. It didn’t matter to me when I first met him, why would it matter now? Does being a Snow change anything he’s done? Make what he’s accomplished somehow less of importance?” Sansa’s answer was no, but you filled in the gaps for her with a hope you had decreased the sternness which often came out in frustration of the subject matter. “When Arya came home, she could’ve made a claim but she didn’t. Bran could make one now, but he won’t. Maybe you need to ask yourself, Sansa. Why you? Why are you the only one pushing him about this?”

Opening and closing her mouth, you knew that was a struggle she’d have to face alone. Her defence came out weak, as if she could predict that you already had an answer against it. “Robb decided that when he thought Jon was the only one left. When I was still married to a Lannister.”

Raising a brow, you caught her before she had a chance to begun her next sentence with an air of doubt in your voice. “Was? Married as in past tense?” Trying to speak, you cut her off the moment she even started saying his name. “Tyrion fled King Landing just like you did. You fleeing and not being found didn’t make you both no longer married, and Tyrion doing the same also would not break that. You’re still a Lannister by marriage, Sansa. You do understand why Robb chose this in the first place?”

A silent stammer came from her. “To keep the North in the Starks hands.”

“To keep the North safe from our enemies.” Ideas of similar nature, but born from different points of origin. “He didn’t want to hurt you by doing this, but he did what needed to be done. We can’t change the circumstances that led to why he did it.”

Sansa’s next words were interesting to say the least. An odd choice of how to approach it considering the nature of the previous years she would’ve experienced. “What one King decides can change with the new one.”

Your head tilted with narrowing eyes, looking at her close with the slightly nerves in the way she swallowed right after saying it. Or, what she was not saying, which was nearly more then anything spoken in the air. The unspoken said as much and you picked it up right away. “I want you to think carefully about what you are attempting to say, Sansa. Going against the word of a King after he’s gone is one issue, but you do know what you are suggesting?”

Pushing from the desk you came before her, hands coming to rest against her upper arms as it fought within her eyes, the guilt against the greed and you knew it was not here and now one would win out.

Your voice now much more tender, again you chose the raw honest. “This isn’t about what we want or what we chose. I never asked to be a Queen, but I am. And that responsibility is mine alone to come to terms with. It is the same here. What’s done is done, and the longer it takes you to accept that, the harder it’s going to be on all of us. Putting that divide between us now is just one more thing we cannot have, we need each other. And I can tell you first hand, having your family split apart on purpose like that when you need each other the most? Is more devastating then you understand.”

She had to come to terms with it herself. Jon had told you what was said when she approached him the other night, but you affirmed you’d speak to her. She needed to hear it from you, from someone who was there when it was decided. The more rows she went with Jon about it the more angry both would get, and it had to stop now.

Leaving her there to think, you had scooped up little Eddard and made your way. The corridors much more busy and working at this time, did the two guards waiting passively for you seem to become one. One, and another taller figure now jesting and teasing before the first you recognized catch your curious eye. “My Queen, apologies I-”

A small smile with a shake of your head acted as hand wave dismissal of what he was going to say. “Nothing of the sort needed. I presume this one had you distracted?” The smirk came easy and familiar with a sigh much more noticeable towards him. “And I presume you sent off the other because...” Stretching the finals of your words to allow him to fill in the blanks.

Standing up straighter from where he had leaned against a pillar behind him, Allard Seaworth gave you that look you knew all too well from so many years ago. “I also tried to convince both I could handle it, but it seems two guards at all times is your Kings orders.” You did not at all acknowledge the glint of tease in his eye or what he wished to truly say. “Did you think I came all this way to see your royal self, and then leave? I have a duty, your grace.”

A glance with a not so well hidden amusement looked to the other guard who with a now much more casual stance shrugged one shoulder as if to indicate he had no issue with it. A sigh came from you, looking down to the sleepy son in your arms with a mutter just loud enough for Allard to purposely hear. “Why do I have the distinct feeling I’m going to regret this?”

Sure enough, it was as if you were a younger girl. Wandering the halls of Dragonstone or the gardens of the Red Keep. Accompanied more then not, but Allard was never one to take issue with using that time to find things to say. He was all you had once. Long since a man when he came into your personal service, but no friends of your own on the grim island, some days he was the only one you could say things to without a filter. It didn’t happen often at first, but more and more as he opened up to you, did you grow the same.

Keeping you safe but also for many of your early years, simply he was there to keep you company. A lonely, quiet little girl with no one to talk to did your father assign Allard knowing that perhaps giving you silence was not effective on your personal growth. Now you were used to it with Theon, he had no qualms speaking to you back and forth like normal but to have it from another was almost odd again. As if now your old life was colliding with your new one but in strange ways that you did not know yet if they blended.

“If I may ask,” You resisted the jesting urge to simply tell Allard that you knew he’d ask it anyways. “Is there a reason you seem to wish to keep an event this urgent from your father?” Nearly stopping and turning in place, you narrowly caught his side profile with a glare that had him continue with more of an explanation then you wanted. “It’s whispered amongst Winter Town, or it was by last night and yet I know for a fact it has not been brought to your fathers attention.”

Lowly did you mutter, “And why does he need to be told?”

Allard spoke to you much like Theon did, as if you were slow. Only he did not hide such an attitude until in private, he was a man quite comfortable saying things in specific ways unfiltered. “Because he could help? Because he should know his daughters life is in jeopardy?” You refuted the second fact, stating that the would be assassins were dead but an unsettled feeling came about as his tone dropped more serious. “And if more come?”

Your eyes drifted back again to him, narrowing as your heart beat increased just enough to make the sensation a tad uncomfortable. “The first ones failed, why would more try?” Allard grimaced to himself before looking forward, only causing you to grow wider eyed. “What?”

His answer had not helped your heart. “I’m not so sure I should say it with so many ears around, your grace.” Narrowly catching his glance, something serious lay in the heart of it. “That was why I sought you out in the first place. In light of the previous nights events, there are things yourself and the King need to know about.” Asking what in particular, again you held no comfort in the answer. “You.”

Too much in your thoughts on one hand, and frustrations in the other did the sight approaching have also more then one feeling attached. First in your view, Theon came more your way asking where the other guard was only to interrupt himself, nodding towards Allard. “Who are you?”

Wasting no time, he held a hand out, Theon firmly returning the shake. “Allard Seaworth. I was the Queen’s old guard back when she was still only a Lady.”

An ease came over Theon right away, no doubt the aggravating thought to you, that at least your company consisted of those watching over you. Never escaping that it felt. “Theon Greyjoy. I’m her new guard.” It took only seconds to play out.

The dashing of eyes towards you narrowed with that instant flash on alert, as you narrowed yours to not bring such things up this way. Certainly not out in the corridors with anyone walking about did you wish that subject to be addressed. Behaving himself instead, he turned his gaze back squarely to Theon as he crossed his arms over his chest in what no doubt he hoped was not in a way of showing a shift in potential aggression. “Good, I have the right man to speak to then.”

Inhaling deeply, you suddenly felt the great need to abandon this first sight for the second. In no interest did you hold to hear the two of them discuss how much more tight and overbearing the guards watching over you were about to become between the two of them. Muttering in a quieter tone, hoping they all caught it. “If you excuse me gentleman.”

Theon shouted down to you before getting too far, “If you wanted to escape us, you could do better then that.”

Oh were the two men going to get along frustratingly well you could feel. But you did not look back, “I only need guard as long as I’m not with Jon. His orders, not mine.”

The frustration only rose as you walked off. Adjusting little Eddard in your arms, the morning full of things to pick at your nerves and it all kept stemming from sources of issues that had no right in mattering. Your father, Sansa, the assassins, the guard, Theon and Allard about to make your life even more overbearingly watched over then Jon had demanded but would have no argument against. None of this mattered and yet everything made it want to matter.

Looking back down, the only feeling giving you any ease was the more slumbering dozing eyes of your son in your arms, now having wormed his way in the blanket holding him in your arms, facing you more in lieu of snuggling close. “At least one of you is making this easy.” He made no response, and it only made you wish to smile more. Proving your point exactly, the only source of ease was somehow a newborn in need of everything and anything at any time. Little Eddard was still well behaved, comforting, his need for you matching the peace being needed by him brought to you, and only one thing now could even that out or better, outmatch it.

Stepping onto the landing, your feet were much more quiet against the wood as you walked along to the overlook. The fur around his shoulders making him look warm already, but a rare sight of his curls loose and draped around him as if helping to shield cold which did not effect him. Gloved hands perched against the railing, Jon watched the training yards below as if to ensure no one was missing, slacking, or toying around when this was all done for their survival. Every one ten and over would be trained and he did not joke or put off the matter.

Jon took the safety such training would bring everyone seriously, as did his men and Lords down there as well being guides well suited to the matter. Almost feeling guilty to interrupt such an important duty to oversee, but you heard the rasp just loud enough only you could hear him. Head turned just slightly for your notice that he was speaking indeed to you. “Are you going to keep hiding back there?”

The smile on you, matched him not that you even could see yet. A brightness in his eyes and smirk as clearly your silent footsteps were no longer silent to a wolf with such keen ears. Coming up to his side, Jon spared no time opening an arm to wrap around you, pulling you by your shoulder to press warm in his side as he let it then slide down to rest at your hip. Grey eyes looking over, you turned somewhat to lean into his warmth which made the brightness and smile grow wider.

Down for now you kept your gaze to the training below. “How is it all going?”

Hand now running shortly up and down your hip and waist, Jon finally turned to match your gaze. “Better then I hoped. They’re learning fast.” A more quiet mutter from you that most Northerners learned fast, Jon grinned slightly. “What does that mean?”

You carefully shrugged the shoulder not pressed more by his side, your head fighting the temptation to seek out resting down against him while in such public view. “You are all well suited for combat, as strange as it may sound. Most Northerners I’ve met picked up on sword fighting, lance, bow and arrow all easier then many boys I saw growing up in the South.”

Jon spoke low, more of a mumble but gentle. “We have to be. The North isn’t an easy place to live. When winter comes, the end or not, we have to be ready. We have to know how to take care of each other, protect the ones we love. Because most of the time, no one else will.” Biting down on your tongue, you found no words to even slip out. It wasn’t an untrue statement. The North was forgotten about, and yet they were the ones always to survive Winter.

Seen as superstitious and stern and cold, but yet that harshness was within their blood over generations and generations. Something imprinted within each and every one to be prepared to survive what few could. How far back that went though, you had an idea, with a lurching fear being swallowed back down along with whatever imagery may accompany if it lingered too long. A small mutter. “I suppose I’m lucky I have you.”

Jon only smirked, glancing now much more obviously towards you, but not yet sacrificing keeping you tucked away in his warmth. “You survived beyond the Wall carrying our son. You’ve already proven yourself.” He was quiet for only a moment or two, and you knew right away what it was his eyes caught sight of.

Short and tall they were hard to mistaken when standing next to one another did Arya and Sansa speak quietly about something tucked away more in a corner as they not so discreetly would direct their eyes up towards the landing you and Jon stood on. His hand on your hip tightened slightly, asking in a now much more low mutter how it went.

Inhaling deeply, you considered the appropriate words. “Difficult to say. I was honest, laid everything out for her and why. But to come to terms with it? It’s only up to her now. In the time between Littlefinger telling her the crown was hers, and her realizing it wasn’t true, I think she got attached to the idea more then she expected.”

Jon however, had a different interpretation that he knew you did not say. “Or she’s upset that it’s me in general.” Biting down on your tongue, you felt the masked hurt he didn’t want to come out that still it persisted in his life, what he was. “If Bran were King in the North she wouldn’t be fighting so far, she wouldn’t be fighting him over it at all.”

Looking up to him, you could see his jaw sat tense as his eyes grew darker in something teetering on anger and self loathing as you allowed either. Soft and gentle your voice was compared to his which has many layers roughing it through. “You’re still her brother. She’ll get there, Jon. I promise. She just needs time. She didn’t even know you weren’t in the Nights Watch any longer, let alone were King.”

His brows narrowed yet something more teasing came over his eyes, asking what but Jons smirk grew more. Not saying it at first, he certainly thought it over for a good many seconds until it came out in an exhale and tinged with a teasing. “Did Robb ever get used to hearing you call him a King?”

No doubt, Jon was expecting a teasing or playful response. But your stiffening up was not uncomfortable, but a flush was felt crawling up your throat threatening to expose itself. Prompting you with your name, you muttered out a quiet yet restrained, “Eventually.”

Turning to face you more did he ask, “What does eventually mean?” You tried to shrug and turn away but he had the advantage, you had the baby and he didn’t. He could turn you to face him all he liked with his strength. His hands now holding at your waist and the other your arm just above your elbow. “It’s was a yes or no question.”

Muttering out, no longer meeting his eyes you felt the flush cover your skin nearing his sight. “Yes, alright. He got used to it.” Asking in what way, your heart skipped a beat. He had you trapped. Leaning more towards your head, he asked again. Still not meeting his eyes, Jons grin grew watching you fumble your way through what he would not let you escape from answering. “In normal ways.”

Jon though was on a new path. He had you flustered in his grasp and no one around on the same level as you both to interrupt, and with the baby you could not find an excuse to quickly flea his grasp. His grin was insufferably teasing now, his rasp turning into a husking manner to entice you in your blood. “In front of his men?” Muttering a yes, you still did not look at him. “During meetings with the other Lords and Ladies?” Another yes, but Jons grin was bright as the winter snow laid against the ground as he leaned enough into your space that you could begin feeling traces of his breath dance across your cheek. Letting the words linger as he said them, your eyes wide giving it away how right he was. “And you called him that when he had you in his bed, didn’t you?”

Spoken in an accusatory and judgmental manner but with a teasing that was there to trap you on purpose and never did you learn the skills to escape when Jon was the one who set it. He was an expert when it came to you. Mumbling as you looked down to your son, but with the embarrassment inside your chest that his young presence would not be enough to deter your white wolf. “Once or twice...”

Inhaling through his nose, Jons eyes narrowed before he stood back up straight. The hand on your waist holding tight as he now freely let the one on your arm drift down to the baby. Running gentle as ever over the top of his head, gloved thumb running over his tiny cheek as his rasp was little more then a mumble for you only. Eyes still both down on the son you created together when he sent another arrow right into something deeply humiliated at being forced to discuss this, especially out in the open air. “Did you like it? Calling him your King when he was inside you?”

Were you to be walked in upon now, the stammer in you would’ve been unmistakable. But you should’ve known your small nod would not be enough for Jon. Prompting you to say it outloud, that the baby didn’t understand any of this yet. “Why does any of this matter.”

Both hands Jon let sit at your waist, but the answer spoken low and teasing were not matched by the genuinity of their contents. “I wasn’t there for any of it. I only saw glimpses of you two, but never..” Cutting himself off, he shook his head to himself as the tone dropped the tease entirely. “As a boy, I used to wonder what kind of girl Robb would marry. Girls all loved him, ever since we were old enough to understand girls were different, they always loved him. But he was always picky about who he had feelings for, and I never could figure out what kind of girl he’d end up married too.” Uncaring of who could be watching, Jon let one hand drift up, running through the strands of your hair sitting at your front before cupping your cheek and jaw, thumb running over the skin he could reach with bright eyes. “Then he married the girl I loved, and I never saw any of it that meant anything.”

Sliding the same hand around to run down your hair massagingly at the back of your head, Jon tilted you to look up at him as he continued. “I know it’s not easy for you to talk about him, but I wasn’t there to ask him anything. I never got a chance to see how happy you both made each other, I want to know.”

“Why now?”

Jon only smiled gently, eyes flickering down to the baby sleeping in your arms. “We have a family together, what’s left for me to be jealous of?” Pointing out that he did not need to tease you so much to do so, Jon’s smile was close to a genuine laugh letting out. “Sometimes that’s the easiest way to get you to be honest. I embarrass you enough, you’ll tell me anything just to make me stop.”

Your voice was a mutter, your eyes rolling flat. “Some would constitute that as torture.”

Still his hand ran down your hair, the tease almost gone no matter your attempt to lighten the air back up to it. “If I had you tied to my bed, maybe.” Your smothering of a flustered smirk was matched by Jons handsome grin. Turning you to look back at him much more genuinely. “I’ll ask you nicely this time. Do you miss the way he was with you?”

That...that was not the same question which started this. Your lips parting slightly as your eyes looked up to his directly but the insecurity did not sit within his beautiful grey ones. Just a curiosity soaked in the love you had come to know so intimately. He wasn’t searching for a secret, he was curious, truly curious. Swallowing, both yourself and Jon were aware that you would still seek out the most diplomatic answer.

Jon simply knew how to decipher that diplomacy into a language he and you spoke all in your perfect silence with one another. “It isn’t the intimacy alone, or really that at all.” Mercifully, Jon allowed you to translate the sexual discussion into a much more situationally appropriate word. “I’ll always miss him, his voice, his touch..but it isn’t a comparison. I don’t even know if I can put you in the same category, you’re just..different. Not better or worse, just different. I know I’ll never have what I had with Robb again, and I’ll always miss it, but thats beacuse I’ll always miss him. Not because I’m searching for it in you.”

Pressing his forehead to yours, Jon let the hand run still soothingly through the strands of your hair behind you. Muttering for your ears only as he kept a firm grip on your hip. “I miss him too.” Words were not needed right away. Behind the discussions of claims and titles and crowns and heirs, it was all draped across a shadow which never left.

A shadow who was painted across the walls, down sinking to the bedchambers where Robb took you for your first time, for the only two times you slept in each others arms in what was supposed to be your home together. But not that alone, it also slunk to Theons chambers and Jons, the echos of laughter and trouble making Robb was somehow so good at getting into despite being the image of a perfect heir. It wound it’s way into the kitchens, stains in the air of how often Robb would pick up Arya or Rickon, and simply drop them elsewhere when they stood in the way of everyone working and the teasing that they could protest when they were big enough to pick him up back.

Further it reached the edges of the godswood. The strands touching the heart tree where you felt his gentle kiss as you rose before it as his wife, as a Stark. All others leaving the area at Ned’s request, holding one another with your foreheads pressed together, eyes closed in a silence because one morning came neither of you knew when you’d see each other again.

It touched down to the very training yard you and Jon stood before. How since he and Jon were old enough to hold a stick, were they outside every single day hours upon hours learning to train. Becoming warriors as good as the other, and how different yet smooth they fought. As Robbs was aggressive and harsh, a force to be reckoned with, Jon was quick and graceful and treated it like a dance. One against the other was hardly ever with a winner, but any else challenging them, be it Theon or you, they worked together with ease. Filling the weakness the other had and never overpowering the others strengths. But too it was in the studies and the main meeting hall.

Brothers both all their lives given the same education, given the same duties and roles and despite one being the trueborn heir and the other an inheritless bastard they were raised and taught to work as a team. Jon would have nothing of his own to rule in that memory of a future, but Ned Stark raised both his eldest sons to work with each other. Robb would rule one day, but it was as if Ned didn’t simply give Jon the same education to be kind. It was his plan.

The shadow of a story, a father who did not get to spend enough time with his brother before he died, raised his sons side by side as he wanted them to be for life. In his vision of the future, Robb would one day be Lord of Winterfell, but Jons place would be by his side. The role as if Hand of the King, but for whatever Robb would be, and raised to compliment the other.

The shadow was a memory of a life where until the day he turned his horse to ride North on the Kingsroad, there was never a time where that shadow of Robb Stark wasn’t at Jons side. Were Jon the only one gone for good, he would be the shadow against Robb as well. In this new life for both of you, it was hard to recall what before was like some days.

Your minds consumed with something stronger then love or even blood that binded your souls together in an unnatural manner. Some days all you or Jon could see were the other and nothing else had the right to exist, but there was indeed, a life before that. One where love between you still was there, muted and restrained and hidden, but it was there. But beyond that, there was always Robb.

Before Theon became the fourth, it was always a trio. The three of you as children nearly inseparable. Jon was your first true friend, he pried off that lock against your heart first to reveal that underneath was just a lonely girl desperate to make friends. But Robb was the one to burst those now unlocked doors wide open, and drag you away from them anytime you almost went to close them.

Your first beheading you ever saw, only eight and shy had in the moment it came off, did you by instinct grab Jons hand for comfort. But scared he was annoyed by you and how childish it was, you had wished it was Robbs hand you grabbed. Maybe he would’ve made fun of you for it later, but you weren’t afraid he hated you. Then slowly it all came together, and yet it took so much less to tear it apart.

Now though, all that was left, was the shadow on the wall. But it was not yet complete. Down in the deep depths of Winterfell did the shadow finally land in the crypts, an empty clearing where a statue of a King and his direwolf deserved to be. But it stayed there, overtaking the light inside it as it sought out to be complete. But it wasn’t. It stayed empty.

And as long as that tomb remained empty, would that shadow never leave hovering right above yourself and Jon. Neither wanted to be rid of his memory, but there was no closure. Your and Jons closure, were just remains. Scattered bones across the Riverlands lost to time. Flesh and meat picked apart by the animals and the rest sunk down into the soul but the bones remained. Some would come across them one day, and have not a clue that that belonged to the shadow of a King.

You once ended up having with Robb, what you never had a chance to with Jon. But now, you were the one to have with Jon, what you never had a chance to with Robb. A family, a son, a pack of your own making together. Of course you thought, of course Jon asked these questions.

Glimpses weren’t enough. Teasing for the information or not, Jon teased to have the story. To know your life, to know his brothers life he never got to see. Jon knew he stood in his home, but in Robbs title, his land, his people, his Kingdom, and with his wife. Jon had all what Robb once had but it was gifted to him with every want of Robbs for him to have it.

Jon had the option. Robb wanted to give Jon the choice, he could call himself Stark and no one would ever be able to doubt it’s legitimacy, but he did not force it. The brother he grew up with was a Snow, and it was a Snow he loved with all his heart. No matter what laws of the Andals said, or that of the Iron Throne forged by the corruption of the Targaryeans stated, this was the North.

And no amount of rights and claims would take away that Jon had all of this, because he deserved it. Because Jon did not come down from the Wall to fight this fight as a King, he never asked for a crown, but without ever accepting it, the North bestowed it on him anyways. The laws stated that the North were nothing but rebels who needed to once more be subjugated, but none of you took it as such anymore. Beacuse the North ruled themselves again, and Sansa had to accept it.

Robb didn’t choose a bastard, he chose his brother. He chose a Stark.

Not that either of you knew it, but standing together up on the landing, it was the eyes of two sisters who felt something of a different shadow. Arya more used to it, spoke first. “They’re just like them. Father and mother. Whenever they thought no one was looking, they’d act just like that too.”

Sansa’s jaw was clenched, but not with anger or frustration. Just guilt. Just a shame. Her voice came out as tight as her muscles felt. “No. They aren’t.” She felt Arya’s narrowed glare turning to look up at her and paid it no mind, as Sansa said your name. “She isn’t like mother. Our mother never accepted him the way father did.”

Asking in something more curious, Arya looked between you and Jon and the baby between you, and back to Sansa. “You and her were the only ones of us who ever had a problem with it, you know. No one us, me, Bran, Rickon, we never let it change anything.” Sansa said nothing, she had no defence for the truth. “So why can’t you accept it now?” Sansa wouldn’t say it outloud, but she already had the answer, and she was not at all proud of it. Sansa still couldn’t fully accept her bastard brother, because some part of her, simply didn’t want to.

“Pardon, my lord, I know we’ve met before but, it was a long time ago.”

Both sitting down across from one another, Jons gaze was narrow but in not judgment but a scrutiny as he tried to seek back in his memories alone. The fire to the side warm and blazing, on the rug before it sat Ghost, laying down with his head perked up to watch this new stranger. Jons only comfort that his direwolf wasn’t with you, was knowing that he had seen you and the baby being dragged off somewhere by Maege Mormont. Guards or not, he knew she would do as fine a job as Ghost would watching over you.

So instead, Jon sat down in the study across from Allard Seaworth. Ser Davos properly introducing them as his oldest son, and too Jon knew he was your personal guard for many years but he had never seen any Baratheon swords in Winterfell before the Kings visit.

A shrug came over his face. “No need for such titles, your grace. I’m no lord or knight. Just Allard.” Asking in a simple curiosity how long had he had been serving you, Allard sat back for a moment with a deep inhale looking all the way back in his memory. “She was about four when I came into her service. I used to squire for her father, then I had a choice, become a Knight or the household guard. Chose the later, and would up guarding his daughter and never looked back.”

Allard explained to Jon that from Dragonstone to Kings Landing he’s be by your side, and always escorted you to Winterfell but would return back to Stannis once you were settled, since there was little need for an extra guard around in those times when the Starks had their own trusted guard. “Got to know some of the others there too. Captain of your fathers guard, Jory Cassel. Good man, deserved better then the way he died.”

Jon nodded as his face twisted somewhat downward.

Allard almost laughed a little. “Sometimes I think they were telling the truth about you Northerners. If I didn’t know any better I’d wonder if any of you felt emotions ever.” A smirk couldn’t help but come out for that one. The more around southerners Jon spent in the recent years, the more he realized that especially around outsiders, Jons people did tend to let little out. Stuck guarded around those not completely comfortable with.

Bringing your name up, Jon switched gears a little. “She said there were things you wanted to tell me?”

Sitting up straighter, Allard let the aloof nature in him go a bit. A nod as he collected his thoughts, “I know you are hoping to keep it from widespread outside of Winterfell, what happened the other night. With the assassins.”

Brows narrowing, Jon leaned forward with a rougher tone coming over him. “How did you hear about that?” Once a rumour hit the smallfolk though, it seemed it had spread wide even though it had yet to and likely for not some time either would breach the walls of his Kingdom. Giving him just a bit more time figuring out what to do.

However, Allard seemed to have an idea already. “People talk, especially when it comes to highborns. But when that highborn is a Queen?” An exaggerated whistle left him. “People all over the realm love nothing more then to talk about a Queen. Especially one with a reputation as prolific as hers.”

That growl of aggression had rose its weary head within Jon. A single claw over top of the edge and slowly a wolf could make it’s way to the front. Ghost felt it too, his ears perked up and his body still as he lay against the fur as if as soon as your name ever came up they both matched one another in attention. Hoping his voice was coming off as low and rough without being demanding, did Jon prompt him. “What are people saying about her?” Clearly, Allard hesitated. Opening his mouth before closing it and turning away. “You’re not the one to blame for what others say.”

Tilting his head, the older man took a good few seconds to put the words of where to start together, before getting the most strange out of the way. “Lets say you have ten people. Each one person represents part of the entire country. If you asked all of them what they think, maybe three would say she’s lost her mind, and the other seven would tell you all about how your wife is a witch.”

Jon only repeated the word in a confusion.

Nodding, he repeated for clarity. “A witch of sorts, thats what most of them are saying. Raising men from the dead, summoning visions of the future and past. Some even say she’s using some kind of charm to bewitch you to fall in love with her, or that you’re the one setting her out on the men of your court to charm and bewitch them into accepting how much power she has a your side.”

Jaw tensing, Jon took a moment to tear his eyes over to the fire flickering about. You had that power beside Jon because he wanted you to have it, and you certainly weren’t manipulating a single soul to do so. It wasn’t the important aspect and he would not say it aloud here, but too was it a ridiculous claim to say that Jon had to be put under some sort of curse or spell to fall in love with you.

If that were all though, he would’ve stayed calm. But the whispers and stories were relentless. That you and he both were god like figures with strange magic. Some believed the coming story of winter and death were being fought against by you both like saviours, others thought you both were responsible for it and others simply thought you both were lying to scare people into worshipping you both.

More that you had gone mad, a hysteria of your horrors of the war. Just a girl who has lost her mind, crying of visions and dreams and speaking in tongue not yours as if you were in a perpetual grief making you see the world as a nightmare. In a manner of speaking parts of it were not untrue, but Jon despised the painting of you as this unstable woman unfit to be Queen at his side beacuse your sanity had fallen from grace in grief and death.

“How much some of the other major Houses believe what I don’t know, but most of them think some combination of the above. And if that someone decided to see her or you as an enemy..”

Allard trailed off as if knowing Jon was going to nearly hiss out the finish of it himself. “Then they also think killing her would be better for their own causes.” His heart screaming at him for a moment, he struggled not to command Ghost to go to you now, as if for every reason he had you’d be in danger despite he knowing otherwise. Forcing through more gritted teeth, unable to hold back if the man could sense how a tenseness came over him without stop. “Do you have any idea who tried to kill her?”

Right away, Jon felt a sweep of an anger at how this story begun. “I was serving at Storm’s End when Aegon Targaryean and his men took the castle. Telling us we could keep our lives as long as we serve him while he was there, so, myself and Lord Alester spent some time around him and his men.” Jon sat there, there was no way he could’ve ordered this.

Aegon knew that if Jon found out it would turn the North from a peaceful ally, to an enemy in a second.

Continuing on, Allard seemed to tell that while silent, Jon was listening intently and intensely. “Aegon..he begun growing curious. Quite curious. First about her, then you. Wanting to know everything he could, what people said, what you both have done, what you were saying about the Wall and what have you. As if something clued in for him, that he didn’t know enough and started gathering any information he could about you and her. I never knew why, I wasn’t privvy to those conversations with his council, but I knew some were rather bothered about it.”

“Who?”

Jon had cut right to the chase, any name would help. Anything which could narrow it down would help. “Lord Connington didn’t seem particularly happy about his new interest in the Queen in the North I can tell you that. Aegon wanted to understand more about your cause up here, together, but Lord Connington seemed to focus more on his..” Jons eyes narrowed, a prompt to say the word he was hesitating on, which he did followed with your name. “His hatred for her. Eventually that sort of talk gets around, and next thing we know, half the Houses who declared for Aegon, thinks the story is that he’s the one who hates her. That she is using you, and the loyalty the North has for you, against Aegon somehow..”

It was nothing he wanted to hear, but much of what he needed to know. If you were seen as this great enemy, then taking you out would be something very important to a select number of powerful people.

But they had no idea. You were nothing like that. You had as many strengths as you did weaknesses, and Jon valued every one of them. There was no woman alive or dead who he’d rather have stand beside him as his Queen but you, and never did you manipulate a soul in that manner. You did not have it in you. Jon felt that anger tense in his fingers under the fine leather of his gloves.

These people didn’t know. They didn’t get to see the sight he woke to that morning. Hand sliding across to you and finding you nowhere, Jon shot up as the fur pooled around his hips only to hear a cry. Not an upset or sad one, but more of a nonsensical squeal. Across the room, you clearly had awoken to feed little Eddard. The dark shift on you looking more ragged as if thrown on quickly, but the sight of a long robe draped across your arms and back. A light blue that shined near white in the morning sun, with one shoulder fallen down your arm partially exposing the skin covered in bruises and indents made by himself the nights before. Holding him up after his feeding in a gentle rocking to lull him afterwards did the baby see Jon.

How Jon beckoned you over to him, letting the baby come to sit between you, your hand holding one end and him the other. Jon’s arm closest to you pulled you across to partially lay against his side. The words people were saying about you, when that was the life Jon woke up to that morning.

They had no idea who you were, or what Jon would do to protect you from every single one of them.

Back and forth both men went, one idea then the next until Allard shook his head almost with a huff of a laugh. “The Lannisters have every reason to want her dead, but Cersei couldn’t even muster enough talent to even try and prevent you from taking the Norths independence back. I doubt now she could orchestrate a well planned assassination attempt.”

Leaning back, Jon felt again the frustration fill him. “And if Aegons forces moving in on Kings Landing, it would be the wrong time to focus on us here.” He had suspected Cersei or the Lannisters in general were a high priority to look into. Without Lord Tywin, there wasn’t much for Jon to consider a threat from all the way here. Even Cersei was smart enough to know that if Jon simply stayed in the North, she could not take it and he would not repeat the victories taken previous by Robb against them.

Sitting forward, Jon ran his hands over his face for a moment. Elbows both propped up on the table, one falling flat against it as the other hand continued across his mouth to collect himself. Allard tried to passively start by saying he knew it wasn’t much help when Jon cut him off. “You have been. I promise, I’d never know what people were saying about her otherwise. Knowing how bad it all is, it gives more people even more reason to have wanted her dead.”

Allard was somewhat of a comfort however, “Well, your grace, it isn’t all bad. Some people hear the rumours, that she is some powerful witch at the side of a man she resurrected? As many people are talking about you both as if you’re liars or abominations, the other are talking about you like you two are some gods.”

That did not in fact, make Jon feel better. It was comforting that it was not all negative towards you, but the last words he wished to have associated with himself was that of a god. All he wanted was to keep you safe, and if all Jon had to focus on was the winds of winter, then maybe he had a chance. But the rest of the realm was testing his patience, and stretching thin his ability to keep you at an arms reach without just chaining you to his side every hour of the day.

Before Jon could even think of the words, Ghost read them. Suddenly moving up from in front of the fire and made his way out of the study to go to you. If it wasn’t Jon you were with, he was beginning to think he was not able to accept that guards alone were enough. If Jon could not keep you at his side always, then he knew Ghost would happily take the role at staying at yours.

“It’s always something with tiny doe.” Caught off guard, Jon looked over at him with a narrowed confused expression when Allard had a small grin come over his face. “You’ve never heard anyone call her that before?” Shaking his head no, Allard’s grin grew bigger and suddenly Jon felt the wave of something even remotely positive coming his way. “Well, she was always a tiny thing, right?”

That caught a smirk on Jons face. “That she was.”

“Well, since she was so small. Some of us joked that she was more like the size of a doe then a stag. And it came to me one day. Tiny doe. Called her that ever since, lady, Queen or not.” Jon leaned forward, the question on his lips of how many people have ever called you that and he had the one thing that was going to be used against you in the most amusing of ways he knew. “Near everyone on Dragonstone called her that.”

Well, that certainly was information Jon was happy to have learned.

You could only glare at your mother for the insinuation she had just made. Or, it was less an insinuation and more a vaguely worded judgment said outloud for all to hear. Your eyes flickering down to the sight now more appropriately hidden away, but her stare still persisted. Cutting right to the chase, though you did feel yourself forcing your words to be spoken clearly and steadily. “If you have something to say, I’d rather you come right out and say it.”

Narrowing her brows at you, across the table you all sat at did you sense Maege’s eyes glint with a mighty amusement. Your mothers stern nature was louder in your ears then it was in the kitchens themselves. “I only meant that it would be more advantageous for you to allow them to help.”

Your head tilted to the side, the urge to keep back a roll of your eyes even more prominent. “I didn’t wish for their help then, why would I ask for it now?” The discussion of a wet nurse continued to frustrate you, if you could say nothing else to your capabilities, it was that you knew how to take care of your own child on your own. Your mother attempted to make a point that this was the second time thus far in the afternoon you needed to stop what you were doing completely for the baby only for you to cut her off with a dryer, but knowing tone. “And what were we doing which was so important that I couldn’t take the time to let my son have that priority?”

Your mother stared at you, as you did back only for her to switch to a pleading with Maege who just laughed into her mug. “I fed all five of my girls from my own breast, eventually everyone around you gets used to it. Though, that would be beacuse you can’t give them the option otherwise.”

A small smirk came on one side of your face towards Maege. Between the three of you it was a constant battle. Mother against mother but you tended to be the one at the bottom, being given advice more of a lecture during the day by the both of them. Even when they seemed as if they disagreed, they would find that harmony just to pin you in a corner if only for their amusement of how easily frustrated it made you.

“And if you’re in a public procession, or meeting?”

Eyes narrowing, only commenting that you could always leave to do so. “How many of Jons people out there do you think are going to protest that I am not in perfect attendance when it is very clear I have a newborn to care for?” Only saying that she was attempting to guide you to accepting help when it was all around you did you try and wave her off. “And when I require it, I will ask. But so far, I’ve done fine without all the fuss.”

Feeling something creeping up like a sensation at the back of your neck, without much notice did you suddenly turn your head to the side looking up to one of the entrances. She did not quite blend into the background of course, not with the striking orange in her hair. Narrowing in curiosity, Sansa was partially leaning against the door frame looking in when your diverted focus caught the others attention as well.

Sansa stepping in more with a clearing of her throat. “I didn’t mean to look like I was spying. I only wanted to ask if I could join.” If she was expecting any reluctance, she did not get any. All three of you offering her to come join.

Swiftly did one of the maids ask if she’d want anything, only did she request whatever it was you three already had. A laugh coming as Maege commented that what you could eat or drink was rather small at the moment, and made a request for the girl, herself. Sansa’s blue eyes flickered over to you, a question within them of it what you both discussed this morning was to get in the way of any conversation now, but by the time you spoke, you had long since put it passed for now.

Gesturing with a nod to specifically designed embroidery on her dress, your eyes filled with a bit of a proud glaze over. “Did you do that yourself? I don’t think I’ve seen that dress before.”

Looking down as it to remind herself, it was a lovely deep blue fabric but a design along the front and down acting as if the seams were waves in water and the look of what was surely a fish modelled after that of House Tully looked like they swam along each wave. “I did.” Looking to the other two, there was a calm politeness about her that you felt as if hadn’t been seen in some days. “I’ve been away from home for so long, I thought it would be nice to start surrounding myself with more of it. To remember.”

To your suprise, it was your mother who understood first. “I had been away from my home for so long by the time I married my husband, that I used to sew small orange foxes into the sleeves of my dresses. I thought growing up in Brightwater Keep meant I would adjust to living on an island surrounded by water, but no matter how close somewhere you think can get, nowhere beats where you grew up.”

Glancing down to where you were holding the baby carefully, did you feel a strange wave of relief. Of everywhere you lived, you could think of no better place for your son to grow up then in Winterfell. It was somewhere that was unique, the snow beautiful and the cold while some days uncomfortable, was better then a sweltering heat which Dragonstone and Kings Landing both could become. A baby boy born in as much of the North as possible, and a place where he would grow up loved, with everything you could offer him and never let him grow up with that feeling of isolation you had.

Little did you even tune into what the discussion around you had become. Her skills at cross stitching, embroidery, such formal ladylike manners, you knew it was easy for Selyse to find ease in getting to know Sansa. No doubt you thought, if you had acted a bit more like her when you were just before your teenage years, would your relationship had been slightly less strained.

You felt their eyes, but did not think much of it as you continued about your business. Without even needing any help did you readjust your shall and dress without drawing any attention to doing so, the ease of the clasps and laces now mostly sitting at your front helped with it. Hoisting the little one up high on your front, his head sat at your shoulder with small taps to prompt him.

Not even noticing that while you only watched him, there were bright blue eyes watching you with something that it seemed most of the Stark siblings would give you one by one. A motherly sight they never knew they’d see on you by now, but with an ease in your bones and a gentle look in your eye towards him.

Running your hand over his back, you felt little Eddards head snuggle more against you as his eyes could soon droop. Sitting down you couldn’t rock him quite like he would want, but a small massaging feeling along his back seemed to make up for it on occasion. You hadn’t even noticed by the time it seemed the others were to clear out. Maege turning to help you up if need be, but you shook your head with a small smile. “I should stay put until he falls asleep.”

The older woman smiling with a nod, but she was not the last to leave. Sansa’s figure stopped at the door she came in through before suddenly turning around. Coming right back she took no time to sit down in the chair now closest to you. “Could I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

Within reason of course, but Sansa of all people didn’t need to be told that. Her forearms stretching across the wooden surface before clasping her hands together as if holding her nerves in order to spit it out. “How did you and Jon realize where I was?”

A confusion came over you for a moment, “Ser Royce is still here, you’ve never asked him about it?” Shaking her head no, that she only knows what was said in the trial. Your eyes flickered to your son before adjusting him more carefully to lay in the same position but in a far better spot to fall asleep on. “It wasn’t me who figured it out. It was Jon.” Elaborating to her unsure silence. “Everything he knew from what I had told him, putting together the timing of events. Jofferys murder, you disappearing from the capitol, a bastard of Petyr Baelish none have ever heard of showing up at the Vale where Lysa just so happened to live. Jon could never be completely certain, but he had a heavy suspicion thats where you were. Just..not the why.”

That time her hands did toy with one another in a distraction move. “He promised to get me out of Kings Landing. Littlefinger. After the battle on the Blackwater, Joffery took Margaery Tyrell as his new betrothed but he wouldn’t let me go home. So Littlefinger promised me he would help. I just didn’t know what he would do for it..”

You remained nothing but silent, allowing her to speak at her own pace.

“He wanted Alyane to marry Harry Hardyng. I-” A deep sigh of a shame and frustration came. “I thought he was only trying to help me find a new life, I didn’t realize that if I married him and...something happened to Robin, that would make me Lady of the Vale at Harry’s side.”

Perhaps she didn’t want to say it, or it did not need to be said but you would put it out into the world no matter what. “And if something were to then happen to Harry, he’s already married one widow.”

The guilt and disgust came over her, and you knew she was keeping something to herself. Not something she enjoyed, not by the distance in her eyes but you felt that feeling all the same. You knew it well enough. “I wanted to do something tonight. But, I don’t want to do it on my own.”

Truly, you thought she was asking a much greater task of you then what it was.

Knocking on her door, little Eddard now safe with Bran, Meera, and Benjen, Arya opened the door in a bit of a state. Clothes ragged and out of breath, you spotted Needle sitting carelessly out against her table when you raised your brow in amusement. “You do know there is an entire training yard for that?”

Glancing at the guards behind you, she opened the door wider. “You two can’t come in.” Allard only nodded with a laugh you could nearly hear him trying to hold back without any words. Closing it, you walked a bit further inside when she explained herself, but not before turning to you in question. “Who was that? The guard, I’ve never seen him before.”

Her instant suspicion turning on you to question, all Starks were wolves in their own way weren’t they, you thought. “His name is Allard. He was in charge of my personal guard care when I was younger. Ser Davos and my father thought it might be nice for my new life to have a bit of my old one.” Asking suddenly that your father was here, you nodded with a bemused flash in your eyes. “Unless one introduction to his grandson was enough and he left, I imagine you’ll run into him eventually. Now what were you doing in here that couldn’t be taken much safer outside?”

Sighing, Arya wandered more back into her room, beginning to properly put things away. “Some of the younger children out there, they saw me practising one day. They wanted to know where I learned to fight that way and if I could teach them.” Sitting Needle down in it’s case, did Arya shut the chest and find herself sitting down against it with less energy then before. “I was trying to remember Syrio’s lessons. Teach them the way he taught me.”

Nodding, you paced along to meet where she sat, her carefully sliding over for you to have enough room to join her. The memory nearly long gone, but traces of it still existed if you focused. “He certainly left an impact on you.” The quiet sat comfortable before you broached the topic. “What happened to him? That day in the Red Keep?”

Arya’s head hung. The memory for her was as if it played before her eyes as did the emotions that came with it. “Ser Meryn Trant came in with Lannister swords. Saying I had to come with then, but Syrio knew right away something was wrong. They kept trying, and he fought the other guards off, before it was him and Trant alone. He was giving me a lesson, he didn’t even have a sword. Just a wooden practice one..and he told me to run. He wouldn’t let me stay when...but he gave me time to run. He’s why I escaped the Queen.”

Looking back up with a sniff, Arya’s face was more twisted between upset and angry as her voice rose to match. “Syrio told me something..that there is only one god.” If she noticed your muscles tense ever so slightly she made no mention of it, nor the relief as she continued. “That the only god is death, and we say only one thing to death. Not today.”

So that day, she ran. And yet took away one of the only people in Kings Landing she cared about beyond her family. It felt odd, the scar across your stomach with a slightly burn you knew existed to no one but yourself. Voice distant as you said it. “What does the god of death say about those who die and come back?”

Arya’s response almost made you laugh, were she not so clearly upset beside you. “I think it’s fair to think that you and Jon both said not today, of all people.” Your hand found the hair at the back of her head, a gentle motion, a soothing caress that you felt her lean into. “None of us ever had a chance did we? To say goodbye.” She shook her head no, and your soothing motions didn’t stop. “I can’t say it will heal all of it, but there is one thing.”

Perking up with a narrow eyed curiosity, you wondered if perhaps for now, lying about whose idea it was, was the better idea. Which, you weren’t sure it was. The moment the sounds of two pairs of feet walked into the small sept, did the normal quiet tranquility get shattered by the one next to you. “What are you doing here?”

Turning, you noticed it was not quite anger but a tense irritation between the two as Sansa spoke rather loudly right back. “I’m allowed to be in here.” Arya only asked she meant right now, and Sansa gave no less of an unproductive response. “So I’m not even able to share the same space as you? Do I have to stay away from breathing your air too?”

Back and forth they both got before you cut them off. “Girls.” The echo in the room made your projection of a normally quiet tone stand out as both heads whipped over wide eyed to look at you. “I’ll only say this once. Arya, stop antagonizing your sister. Sansa, stop egging her on when you know better.” To any onlooker, the nods from both girls would’ve come off as funny were it not in a place of worship occurring.

Many times when they were still very young did you wrangle them from arguments often, you were as used to putting an end to their squabbles as Catelyn once was. Looking to Sansa with a knowing squint asking if she too needed you to elaborate, but with a deep inhale she finally took the plunge, saying your name to Arya with a gesture towards you. “I asked her to bring you here for this, because I thought you would say no if I asked you myself.”

Arya stepped closer, her head turning to the side with a scrutiny. “Why would I say no?” Sansa only stating that the time the two spent together was hardly what one could call quality time. But Arya was as blunt as she was honest about it. “If I didn’t want to spend time with you, I just wouldn’t. It’s easy to avoid you.”

Trailing behind, both girls wandered more up to the other. “I wasn’t allowed to go to the sept in Kings Landing. Probably they thought it was too far from the Red Keep, they didn’t trust me. But I thought-” Looking up to you, Sansa needed no reassurance on what was her own idea. Swallowing the nerves back down, she seemed to spit it out. “We’ve all lost people we couldn’t give a proper goodbye too..so I thought we could do it together.”

Only feet from her, Arya’s voice was soft but the narrow in her eyes was less in suspicion and more simple question. “Most of what we do is in the godswood, but mother always prayed in here. I thought maybe she’d like it if we...tried to get along starting in the sept father built for her.”

A question of what about you, did you allow a smaller smile to grace your features. “I was named and raised alone in the Light of the Seven. I likely know more about it then both of you combined.” A pause, did a feeling raise heavy in your heart. Eyes drifting to a nowhere in particular as a haze came over with many a faces to follow. “Besides, I have goodbyes of my own I never have spoken.”

All three of you knelt on the ground, each sister on either side of you, allowing you to do most of the speaking. The statue of the Warrior stood tall before you, and each with a number of candles in front of you each. Sansa and Arya both had their eyes closed, but you looked up to him first. Scarcely had you prayed to them so distinctly, for some time after Shireen fell ill did you think the Seven cared not about you.

Some days you still thought that, but if anyone was listening, perhaps it was still worth it to try. Their hands each clasped together but yours sat flat against your thighs. Eyes fluttering closed. “May the Warrior grant us courage, guide us through the storms to come but too to bring peace to the souls of the slain already behind us, and comfort those they have left behind for now and to come. We only ask for guidance. The path we walk has darkness laid ahead, but guide us through on the path so we may fight for those around us still living, and keep them from what led them to the darkness.”

Opening your eyes with your head looking up to the Warrior once more, did you turn to each girl as they followed suit. Some names came from the mouths of all three of you, and you knew which were as such. A candle lit by each of you for your own offering, but the names came the same.

Eddard Stark

Catelyn Stark

Rickon Stark

Robb Stark

Your hand hesitated over the wick as it came to the name last. The feeling through your veins of that loss and feeling as if bleeding from the scar that never healed. With a shake both girls could see did instead of saying it more outloud as they did, Robbs name was hardly but a whisper from your lips. As if the candle was not for the Warrior, but for Robb himself. That you lit one to tell him, still now and always you hadn’t forgotten him.

Sansa was first, then Arya. Most of them had names you did not at all recognize nor did you expect too, but some you knew in some regards or passing. Some surprised you to hear of them at all. Despite doing it for nothing truly but gold, the name of Ser Dontos coming from Sansa was one of those names. He had whisked her away from the wedding to escape Kings Landing, and yet knowing why he did it was not out of kindness but greed, still was there a girl in her heart thankful for what he did, and a candle for him was lit.

Lysa Arryn was another, and the twitch in her jaw told that name was part of the story she wished to keep to herself. A lunatic, problem of a woman during the war, but still was Catelyns sister. Their aunt, and this a candle too lit for her as well.

Arya’s names were much less known. Most of them, if not all of them were smallfolk. Common people the nobles would look to as nobody, but candles lit for all of them, but she started with the one you knew she would. A candle lit for Syrio Forel, and maybe Arya could find it in her to continue his teachings as he did for her, but onto others.

Other names you knew nothing of. Weasel, Lommy, Yoren. None you knew, but her final certainly was felt by all three of you. As if it were fitting, that yourself, Arya and Sansa were the ones present as she said her final name. “Mycah.” No spoken for her to feel guilt, but Sansa and Arya both had guilt about it of their own, and maybe now it could begin to go away.

As you knelt there, both looking to you, did you wonder where to start. Or or whom. You fought in war, many died in front of you or around you and there were not enough candles in the world for that. But perhaps maybe, yours were not for comfort. Yours were for atonement. Offer their name now, to confront what you hadn’t done enough in life.

One for Jory Cassel, and the next following for Ser Rodrick. Some though, gave the sisters on either side of you pause. Three names did so as you lit their candles one after another. “Ser Alton Lannister, Torrhen Karstark, Walda Frey.” But you did not need them to understand why.

You did not kill Ser Alton or Torrhen, in fact both were by the hands of Jaime Lannister. But you were Queen when they were killed, and if would not take responsibility for their murders, then you would. Walda though? Your candle was for her murder, but too for what you never gave her. She was young and kind and naive and wanted to be a friend to you, but you gave her little to nothing and likely died thinking that you hated her. And you never did. You were simply a shell of what was once a woman, too dead on the inside to offer friendship. But she was not responsible for her grandfathers crimes, and so you lit her candle, not punishing her for it.

Between three of you in a quiet space with much of an echo, did you find it almost by fate that you heard him through the silence. Approaching in the quiet, a muttering to your guards to leave before leaning against the very edge of the outer door. Curls dusted with snowflakes teasing to melt if he only stepped inside, but allowed them to fall. Without the words or understanding to say you knew why, both you and Jon felt the other as soon as he approached. And he had watched long enough to catch only the candles lit with names from your lips, a curiosity to follow the softness painted over his grey eyes.

Both sisters found the sight just as they did before. Strikingly familiar. You stayed, quiet knelt before the candles looking into the flames with something troubled behind as you watched them flicker. And the sight of one with Stark blood looking inside with a love unable to be mistaken for anything else as he watched his wife from just outside the doors.

No words were spoken for some time as you watched, only when the sounds around were winds of the eve, did you find a smile. Your eyes playful as you turned to catch Jons gaze. “Are you afraid you will turn to ash if you step inside?”

The charming, handsome smile coming over him with a small laugh was enough to make a warmth crawl inside of you as if the very sight and sound was all you needed for comfort. Stepping inside the sept, did Jon pull closed the single door left open, sealing you both alone inside from the world. Looking up and around with a more wondering gaze, you wondered how long it had been since he was anywhere near here. Coming up, Jon held a hand out for you pulling you to your feet with grace, before swiftly putting you to his front. Hands on your hips while yours trailed up along his chest.

A raspy mutter as his breath hit warm as well across your skin. “Where’s the baby?” A quiet reply back as your fingertips trailed upwards as if tempted to toy with his loose curls, that he was with Bran and Benjen. A nod, Jon let his hands trail lightly along your waist to hip as if enjoying the simple feeling of you under his touch. “When was the last time you were in here?”

Inhaling as you thought, your eyes trailed to nowhere before your head tilted with somewhat of an answer. “It must have been that final visit before I came with the Kings company.” You hadn’t yet sensed it, but there was a brightness in Jons eyes looking down at you with a knowing of why.

Toying with his curls successful, you let them run to the back of his neck to rake through more purposefully. Commenting that you weren’t sure you’ve ever seen him in here, did Jon chuckle deep from his chest. “Probably because I haven’t.” You knew a little about that part of his upbringing, but not much, as Jon read your innocent ask in your eyes. “Robb learned about the Seven because of his mother, but I didn’t have to. I only learned enough to keep him company.”

A smile came over you, just as innocent. “You’re too much of a Northerner for a place like this.”

“And you?” A tilt in your head with a question in your eyes, Jon chuckled again. The grey in his eyes beautiful and bright. “You’ve married two Northmen. You married both of them under a Weirwood, your son is a Northerner. I think we’ve made you too much of a Northerner for this place as well.” He laughed with you that time, leaving your hip with one hand to tilt your chin up for him.

Capturing your lips with his, it was slow and lingering but a chaste sort of kiss that only didn’t allow for breaths or breaking away until he stated it as such. Following his guide, Jon slid his hand to run along your hair at the back of your head, grasping more at your neck to keep you angled up to him. Your front pressing against him properly, Jon let the hand at your hip wrap around across your lower back, pressing against your spine to keep you firmly against him.

He never picked up any pace, and never did he even deepen it. Just stealing every ounce of air in your lungs until they belonged to him, as you graciously offered them up. Barley pulling back once, twice, three times before he let it last as long as he could, using his grip on your neck to turn you downward and place another atop your forehead.

Looking back up to his eyes, Jon was not done. Brushing his nose over yours, tracing down its length before nudging you gently again before muttering, “Alright. Show me.”

Not quite letting you pull back, only enough to see his face was there something earnest in him behind the slight playfulness still detectable. “What?” Again repeating exactly what he said before, a bemused smile came over you, as Jons face lighted with it. “Show you what?” Jon only gestured around to the sept. “What to do?”

One hand running through your hair, tucked strands of it behind your ear as he cupped your cheek. “You know all about my family, what I believe. I was only a boy the last time I learned anything about the Seven.” Your only ask of why, was enough for Jon to read what you truly meant. “Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll have to ask them for their help.”

Your head dropped a bit, peeking back up to his. There was a laughter in his eyes, but also something genuine. Nodding, Jon turned you. Not to leave his grasp, but keeping you pressed to his front but more now you both could look to the sept around you. “How much of a lesson are you asking for?”

Narrow eyes thinking for a moment, before Jon found an answer easy. “Who did you pray the most to?” When you didn’t answer, Jon looked down towards you, a flush forming across your face as you held back something slightly embarrassed. “Who?” When you didn’t answer right away, Jon tugged you closer to his chest. “Fine. Let me guess. An innocent naive girl in over her head with a wolf on her tails..” Looking around, you knew he did not quite recognize what statue represented whom. “Which one is the Maiden?” With you pointing to where she stood, Jon smirked. “Her. I think you prayed quite a lot to the Maiden as a girl.”

Trying to pull away playfully, Jon didn’t let you get too far. Grabbing your arm and tugging you back into him more roughly as you forced yourself not to laugh. “As a matter of fact, it is quite normal for a young girl to pray to the Maiden. Ask for her protection and to preserve our innocence.”

Only raising an eyebrow, you still read the grin. “How much more did you start praying to her after I kissed you? That night in the wolfswood?”

Your heart picked up, a warmth spreading a bit away from just a fluster as you knew for Jon, being so teasing in front of the Weirwood was not the same as it was to act as such in here. But you felt his pull as if making you unable to break him his spell, not that you’d truly want too. “Quite a bit more.”

Rasping low, Jon asked if the last time was right before he almost took you to bed for the first time. A single nod as your lungs hurt. Struggling to keep that burning from overtaking you in his touch. Again did he toy with the hair at the side of your head, “I used to want to protect you from all that. I grew up faster then you did, my feelings for you were way more physical then yours were. Even before you realized you felt anything for me. But you were my innocent best friend, and I tried really hard to protect that.”

Your hands wrapping better around the back of his neck, you leaned up for the kiss that time. Jon meeting you halfway, but allowing it to remain a short and sweet one he knew so deliciously only you were capable of giving him, and also making him mad over it. “So, not the Maiden then. Because I’m not so sure you succeeded in that.” Jon laughed lightly in agreement before he turned you back to the other statues in the room.

“Who else?” You thought about it, there were six others of course but many times when one entered a sept they did not intent to pray to all of them unless it was so dire you needed to reach out to every one for their collective mercy. The Father, the Mother, The Smith, all in their own ways could apply to Jon but perhaps there was one which fit better then any.

Both for a true Northerner standing in a sept of faith he doesn’t believe in, but also for you together, and what you both represented in the world you now lived in compared to your old lives. Turning more towards the statue, you nodded for him to follow you. Standing in front of it, Jon kept a hand at your lower back with a squint. “I don’t remember this one.”

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around his closest to yours, leaning against his side as your head rested more against his. “The Stranger. Neither man nor woman, but a lost wanderer, an outcast. Guiding the lost, the unknown, and the unexplained. They are the one who carries the dead beyond.”

Jon looked down at you, a heaviness in his throat as he used his free hand to slid across you to run over your scar. “So they’re the one who gave you back to me?” You only laughed gently, saying it would be an easy explanation. Instead of any further, Jon moved you both to kneel down properly.

Handing him a long lighter, you held him off from dipping it into the fire just yet. “Whoever you pray to, you light one candle at their alter, an offering of your truth. So they know it is you they must listen too.” Together he followed, each lighting one candle in front of you and him, before you set the tools aside.

Looking up in a quietness, Jon asked in a tender whisper, “Do I need to say any words?”

Meeting his gaze, he noticed again you had not your hands clasped together much like many others did in total prayer. Instead again they rested on your thighs, as if not committing entirely to such an act anymore. Wondering if when you were even smaller then when he met you, was there a tiny doe, a little version of you at an alter just like this with your hands together in prayer and wondering why it never worked.

But in response to his question, you shrugged a shoulder. “Not necessarily. Many pray in peace, others speak out loud thinking the gods can’t hear us otherwise. And there aren’t any words set to speak without choice. It’s more about honesty. One of the first things you learn reading the Seven Pointed Star is that the gods are as merciful as they are just, as long as you’re honest and accept punishment for your sins.” Jon resisted the urge unbeknownst to you, to reach out and run a hand down the side of your hair gently, as if to tell you to let go of all those sin your septa taught you were wrong.

Murmuring in your ear, “I’ll follow what you say.”

Instead however of letting both of you go without form, you did not know, but Jon had gently grasped the hand resting next to his. Clasping them around one another as if in a position of prayer, but holding onto one another. The feeling shaking through your veins, the memory of kneeling before the Weirwood in prayer like this, and Jons hand pressed against yours to never let you go throughout. That you were together in this new life no matter how.

It was informal, and not well structured, but in truth, you imagined rarely did the Stranger get anyone to pray before them, and many were lost souls unsure of what to do or say anymore. They were likely used to such scattered thoughts through emotions in rawness. Your eyes out of near instinct closed, Jon watched you for a moment as you begun to speak before doing the same. Something narrow in his brow, and troubled in his dark eyes but not towards you.

“Two of us were brought back from death, one died alone, the other returned alone. In that year did I begin to think it was all false. That no gods existed and if they did they were cruel and tormenting and brought nothing back of me but what had died. And for that year alone did I wish everyday to end it myself.” Jon didn’t keep his eyes closed, and found watching you with an intensity that you weren’t sure was him you were feeling, even though it was.

You continued regardless, you chose the Stranger for a reason. “I do not understand why or how, but as dead as I became, I too brought another back. The man I loved, not the one who died at my side, but the one who died alone. And since has he been my purpose. Whatever reason holy Stranger did you not ferry me with my love across to where they lay, but you sent me back for him. The future in front of us, I know I cannot ask for protection, but I come with thanks. For without your casting us from what lies beyond the veil, did I find life and purpose in another. That we such as you wander lost, but not alone.”

Slowly did you open once more, and without much hesitating, did you feel Jons hands run across to your cheek furthest from him and tilt you over. Facing him, he hovered close with dark eyes as they looked deep but penetrating. You spoke the words you felt, but Jon did better without them. Pulling you back to meet his lips, Jon kept you attached to him.

Unable to really move to him better, Jon leaned more over you as you both knelt before the statue of a god for those lost and dead and you somehow both found love in the middle of it. Capturing your kiss over and over before pulling from you suddenly that he could see your eyes flutter open and lips shine from his, did Jon prompt you to stand up.

Steadying you on both feet, Jon gave you not half a second before cupping your cheeks and bringing you back to his kiss. Your hands grasping at his shoulders, back, around the back of his neck or into his curls as he deepened it. Every ounce of breath was controlled by Jon and never did you question him or beg for mercy. He gave you the mercy he granted and you did not ask for it.

As if the reminder flew by your ear whispering where you stood, did you try and pull away only for Jon to grasp at the back of your neck to bring you back. Each time he refused to let your kiss go, as his hold on your cheek tilted you up better to meet as he hovered over you. Barley able to tear yourself from his lips enough to call to his name, strands of saliva still connected you both as Jon stood there with the clawing urge to bite at your swollen lips until he drew blood, the burning blazing through you both.

“Jon, we-” Instead, Jon satiated his need by moving to your neck. Lips barley tracing the spot before he sunk his teeth down, indents and sucking the skin to bruised before his tongue soothed the wound and his kiss marked the next spot. “We can’t do this sort of thing here.” Barley muttering out a why, you stammered as you too gasped. “It’s..this..the gods won’t like it.”

Raising his head back up, there was a desperation in your eyes at the sudden shift in how he was with you, and Jon knew just where to take this. “My gods aren’t in here. My gods are where I married you.” You hardly noticed he begun to walk you backwards somewhere you didn’t realize you turned towards. “The old gods don’t care if they watch a man and his wife make love, but yours do. And they’re wrong.” Your heart begun to race, the feeling of your back hitting the wall as a statue sat close to you that you had yet to be able to see past Jons intense gaze. “All your life they’ve taught you what you want is wrong, but you belong here now, to the North.”

He didn’t say it, but you read it in his eyes with no contest.

You knew he wouldn’t take just a nod, so your answered gently in a breathless whisper as your hands braced against his sides. He didn’t say it out loud here, but you would. “I belong to you.”

Jon only looked down at you with a dark look nearly a glare before he kissed you once more. A deep, biting kiss as he crowded you against the wall. His lips were always so soft and perfect, but they never failed to demand so much from you in a rough control. You could barley keep up, as Jon deepened it before cupping the back of your head to force you to stay there. One nibble turned to an impatient second only to be thrown away with a growl as Jon roughly bit at your bottom lip.

The gasp muffled to him, as he used the chance to glide his tongue into your mouth. Brushing against yours, tasting you before he tainted the rest of it, his other hand wrapped again around your lower back as he did so. Not even allowing you the control to explore him the same, Jon had all of the power too as he suddenly pushed your lower back. Your hips pressing into his, your hands reached up to grasp at his shoulders.

Instead of staying, that same hand then shifted to your front. Beginning the process of pulling up the skirt of your dress enough he could slip underneath. All the same time, did Jon blend between a kiss, a bite and his tongue. Each taking you off guard at his aggression but contrasted by such a refusal to leave your lips. Finding your hip, not a shift underneath nor anything else, that was what caused Jon to pull back.

Looking down at what he could see of your body and back to your eyes, a rasp which to any else would've sounded angry or offended. “How long have you stopped wearing anything?” Barley able to breath out a few weeks, Jon shook his head as if saying something to himself. A rough exhale through his nose looking down at you as he ran his bare hand along your hip with much more freedom. “I never asked you to do that.”

That time only you shook your head, he didn’t ask. But you did it anyways. Which was the right choice, as Jon bit at your lips once more demanding entrance, exploring your mouth and brushing against his tongue to yours as if to overwhelm you. More and more his hand explored, gripping rough portions of your skin, his cock throbbing each time he could feel the plushness of it. So much better then what you had tried to force yourself to stay before, now he could grab you properly. The last you had skin this plush, he had never been inside of you and Jon knew his past self had not a single clue what he was missing. Now you were his, and soft just like you were before everything went wrong.

Suddenly cupping you completely, you arched into his front, but Jon pulled back enough to find your eyes. The black had overtook all of what was left of the grey as he growled down to you. “I think I know what to say.” Your brows furrowed in confusion as you caught your breath, only to have Jons head turn to show you where he moved you.

Your eyes widened, and a fluster came about you that would be impossible to hide from Jon, his large hand pressed enough that his fingers would feel traces of your wetness any moment. He had moved you beside the Maiden. Why it came from you, you had no idea, but you said it before he could. “It was about you. When I’d pray to her, it was about you.” Jons eyes widened as he looked down at you. “What I felt about you, how confused you made me feel before you kissed me, and how I felt guilty for wanting more of everything you taught me.”

That was when you felt it. Fingers teasing you at your entrance when Jon muttered against your lips. “It wouldn’t be enough, darling. Not for how much I obsessed over what being inside you would feel like. After that day, I couldn’t close my eyes at night without seeing you bare against my bed, letting me look at all of you.” The later words Jon suddenly sunk two thick fingers deep inside of you, running right up against a sensitive wall before moving back almost out. A growl left Jon without thought, forehead pressing against yours as he dragged his fingers in and out of you. His breathing harsh as he said it, the rasp behind his accent growing thick. “Robb had no idea how lucky he was that he got to have you first..”

Your voice was meek but it came out breathless and wanting. “Jon..”

A biting, rough kiss and he continued. “You must’ve looked so beautiful, right when you realized for the first time what it really feels like. He couldn’t have been gentle with you..” Jons fingers, were too, not very gentle. But a never ending feeling building up in you of pleasure that was making you lightheaded. “You’re so tight around me as it is, but for your first time? Robb would’ve had to be rough with you. Was he? Did he fuck you roughly that night?”

If you could even consider lying, your mind was so high in a burning, twisting pleasure within your core that you weren’t capable of it. “Yes..” You nodded fervently along with it, and Jon gave another biting kiss that tingled when he pulled away.

His other hand rucking your dress up more, his other fingers rough as they found your clit. Tight patterns, the pressure building faster and faster as he couldn’t contain himself from talking. “I don’t know how he did it. Fuck you that way, not being able to kiss you, see you..” It was so sudden, the way your orgasm shattered within your core and flooded your veins like waves of burning water as you arched into him, but Jon didn’t bother to slow down, or ease you through it. “The way you’d let him throw you on your hands and knees...you let my brother fuck you like he hated you.”

Biting down on your lip, you grasped onto him tighter, cries no longer able to be contained as the sounds were a blessing in Jons ears. “He- he didn’t- we-”

A more shushing kiss, but Jon did not slow down. “I know he did, darling, I know. I love you as well, it’s alright.” You only nodded before he saw your eyes flicker down to his lips with an innocent want, so he obliged. Keeping you against his kiss as he drew another orgasm, his fingers growing more and more soaked as he knew he couldn’t wait for anything else. It had to be here.

Barley dragging from your kiss, Jon pulled from you entirely, a cry like a whine leaving but he did not go far, only working at his clothes enough to free his cock, thick and as hard as could be. Using one hand to grasp your hip, he hiked you up onto his thigh opening you up for him. That time, Jon didn’t kiss you, he didn’t say anything. He only made you look at him, the moment his tip prodded your soaking entrance did he use that hand to now grasp tightly at the back of your neck.

A glare almost in him as he held you like a wolf keeps its prey in its teeth to watch him. Slowly did Jon slide inside, your lips parting with a needy gasp and cry. Your hands grasping at his sides before sliding up around the back of his neck but he wouldn’t let you hide in his chest. Instead, Jon only held at your neck and tight his arm wrapped around your thigh on his hip.

He was slow, pulling almost the entire way out, an emptiness following that you could not bare. Biting down on your tongue hard to prevent yourself from begging him not to leave you, but just as you reached a desperation did he sink back inside. Never leaving your soaking warmth, Jon thrusted a painfully slow manner back inside of you. In and out, Jon fucked you, your core burning more then you could handle.

His own lips parting somewhat as he sunk inside of you again and again, eyes closing as if trying to contain himself from losing it, but never did you look way from him. Opening back to see you obeyed, Jon slowly let go of his grip at the back of your neck. A turning tilt of his head glaring at you nearly, and you knew what it meant. The hand suddenly pressed against the wall, his palm beside your head as Jon sunk as deep as he could inside of you again and again.

No man would accept this pace if you gave it to him, but Jons cock throbbed each time he slowly filled you entirely, and his grip tight as he left you so only the tip of his cock remained. Your senses lulled, only the wide stretch he gave you and how much his size could hurt. Yet your nails dug into the back of his neck sharper at the feeling, the pain everything you wanted from him because it blended with that burning pleasure to create something perfect.

Looking down at you, Jons black curls created a curtain hiding your vision from the rest of the sept. Only Jon, in this place of worship, he wanted your focus and faith on nothing but him. Slow and never picking that pace up but something in him was clawing. He didn’t want to speed up, sinking so slowly inside of your cunt was better then anything his younger self would’ve imagined, but he did desperately want to be rough.

You could handle rough, and he knew it. You always could from the very start as it turned out. Jon growled as he throbbed inside of you at the thought. He knew you were born just for him.

Thrusting deep but just as he nearly filled you, did Jon pull your thigh up higher, then his hips were no longer kind. A deep thrust, rough that dragged his name so loud from your lips he had to break his stare and kiss you just to keep you quiet. “Shh, darling, my men are right outside. They’ll know what we’re doing if you beg me that way.”

But did you want them too? You weren’t sure, he always tested your resolve to being caught and sometimes you wondered if he was priming you to want that as much as he did. And it was nearly working were you not a burning mess. Arching into his front, his length filled you over and over, each rough thrust at the end was growing more and more common, and he needed more and more space inside of your walls to do so.

His fingertips pressed harsh against the wall as he fucked up into you, meeting your eyes again with a rasp of your name. Jon didn’t even have any words, but a raw need of you as you had him. More and more his rough thrusts turned to something more, a pounding of his cock that were clothes not in the way, the smack of skin would’ve been something of worry to an unknown listener.

Instead he kissed you, fucking faster and faster. Your core burned white hot as if a sun ready to explode in the sky but nothing but around him. A metal twisting inside a ticking noise of how soon he was going to draw you to another end.

Your words were much more innocent then his cock inside of you, “I love you.”

Pushing you up against the wall, Jon gripped your hip instead keeping you steady as Jon suddenly sunk deep inside of you, no space to even breathe. Pounding again and again as you burst around him, a clawing at his clothes and begging in his ear as everything took you away from the world and into a pleasure of Jons making, and nothing else existed.

A hot thickness suddenly filled deep inside of you, Jon shamelessly spilling his seed as deep as possible as his head dropped to your shoulder with each rougher pound. Only, you had no time to take in how much he filled you, as he suddenly pulled out. Grasping your neck and hip, Jon wordlessly turned you in place.

Little decorum was found as he moved you to lay against the ground of the sept, shamelessly moving the skirt of your dress so he could see your soaking core on display for him, his seed still deep enough it didn’t leak out, and it only made Jon harder. A hand again pressed beside your head now as he hovered over top of you, your legs bent at the knee to stay on either side, and Jon thrusted back inside of you.

He spared no time now. A pound even without the contact together of your hips, it still was something that was worrying, but no one would interrupt him. The sounds didn’t matter, he ordered to be left alone. His cock moving in and out faster and faster, your hands grasping at his curls around the back of his neck with begs and pleads for him, fluttering eyes desperate to try and stay open at what he silently wanted.

Only Jon had too much in him, hardly any time passed when he spilled inside of you again, but Jon only fucked you harder, fucked you faster and faster. Speeding towards however many ends you both were to find, you think you came. Your orgasm within your blood and mind in a buzz but it felt as if it never ended, by the time you felt it stronger.

Looking down at you, barley able to keep your eyes open did Jon rasp down to you. “I’ve got you, I promise.” Letting them close, Jon finally hid is face in your hair. Tucking your head into his neck, barley your upper bodies moved but with the force of how hard Jon fucked you.

Again and again, you found your end and Jons seed poured thick spurts inside of you. Moving to his knees, Jon grabbed at both your hips, now in control of his thrusts. Purposeful ones that had him gritting his teeth at the force as you could barley hold onto his sides as he did so. Your final orgasm came with his together.

Your back arching against the tiles as you begged his name in a soft need, Jon growling yours as he made a painful mark like he moulded your cunt for his cock alone. You clenched tightly around him, warm and soaking before Jon spilled inside of you once more. That time keeping his length as deep as he could go before slowly easing back.

Less rough, but his hips still moved. Finally, your body feeling boneless, did Jon sit up on his kneels not even needing to leave you to do so, he rested you up in his lap. No longer thrusting, but connected together as he tucked sweaty strands of damp hair behind your ear, his curls no better. Kissing you deeply, and a lingering kiss he’d have to keep you here until you could come back down.

Your head hid in his neck and shoulder, nuzzling what you found as you pressed your lips to his neck. If one asked you didn’t even remember where you were, all you knew was you were in Jons arms with him deep inside of you. It was all that mattered.

To Jon, he cupped the back of your head, soothing you back down without having the strength to leave your warm walls. Looking up and around to the statues, he was sure he made his point. He didn’t know what force in this world was trying to tear you both apart, but Jon would make it clear to each and every one of them that they wouldn’t succeed. Fucking you in a Sept surrounded by the Seven, that was just one off his list.

He had many more powerful forces to go, to teach that no one would ever take you from him again.

[undertheknightwing]

I loved their short-lived "I hate this fucking family" scenes

[viiisenyas]

If my brain disrupts my plot with a new idea that changes the entire story ONE MORE TIME

[youmustfixyourheartt]

fucked up what happened to mike crew.

[levaagrace]

I’m really just. Wracking my brain, trying to figure out how to effectively write Jon apologizing to the others for his existence without making them have to bear the burden of forgiving and or comforting him. I dunno. I just want to find a way for him to regain his humanity in their eyes but considering how selfish it is of him to put that on them I’m just not finding out how, y’know?

It’s a conundrum to be sure.

[phantomrose96]

Season 3 Elias is so goddamn fucking funny to me I forgot what a rollercoaster he was during my first listen.

Like the s2 finale has Jurgen Leitner giving Jon the whole "monsters are real speech" and Jon's like "I need a cigarette. NO ONE get brutal pipe murdered while I'm gone" and Jurgen fails step 1 because Elias walks in and grabs Jon's point-and-click-adventure pipe he'd been carrying around and Brutal Pipe Murders. Which, of course, Jon walks back in on and is prime suspect #1 due to literally every single feature trait and word he's said in the entirety of s2.

So naturally s3 starts with Jon on the lam and Officer Tonner like "I'm gonna arrest him for brutal pipe murder" and I'M like "Shit. I hate this. Elias is going to SO easily pin it on Jon and get away with it."

EXCEPT Elias walks in and is like "hello Ms. Officer no Jon Archivist did not kill that man, also I won't tell you anything else, also this is what you sound like" while reciting all her childhood trauma and all her illegal activity that will get HER sent to jail for brutal murder of the non-pipe variety and now I'm like "....huh." He's also like "Jon didn't do it but you can kill him if you want maybe :)" Elias your alibi????

And then we come BACK with Jon storming Elias's office with his two lesbian bodyguards as back up and he's like "I'm gonna use my powers to make you confess to pipe murder!" At which point Elias is like "It doesn't work on me. But I'm having fun so Martin go get everyone I need to tell you all how I committed pipe murder." and Martin does and Elias is like "Yes I pipe murdered. I also killed Gertrude. I love murder. You will not be compensated extra for this time. Get back to work." And they... DO... just go back to work. Because work is haunted. One of the lesbian police officers works here now, too. This just happened. "Also living dolls from Russia are about to Apocalypse the world, Jon go stop it," Elias says, while also saying "no I'm not gonna tell you how to stop it."

Okay???? Mr. Elias man??? And you're like "maybe he's a ruthless tactician? Maybe he's brutal but it's all in the interest of stopping the doll apocalypse??? He wants to save the earth???" Except THAT'S not even true it's actually more like he's trying to get the Russian dolls kicked out of line at Disney World so HE gets to meet Mickey Mouse first by which I mean, start his OWN Apocalypse, because if the dolls do it first well then what's the point of apocalypsing a planet that's become someone else's sloppy seconds.

Anyway Elias's master strategy here is to bring the human equivalent of a drowned cat to the gun fight and just sit back and watch Jon fall down every set of stairs he finds while Elias goes "This is good. This will work." His name isn't even fucking Elias.

[luludeluluramblings]

The Tape

Reader and Conner’s sex tape gets leaked…

Based on this…

Warning: Fem!Reader, NSFW themes, no actual smut, pure crack nonsense, fake Twitter post

A/N: @fanfictionlover277353 Heard you wanted some more! Here’s some of my nonsense!

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

"Come on, Babs. Please. I'm begging. Just for a few hours. Two tops." Dick's whining could be heard through out the entire cave. The vibrato of his voice echoing off the rocky walls and stalagmites as he leaned over Barbara's shoulder and played with her hair.

She was currently sitting at the Bat Computer, looking over anything related to the family or incidents in Gotham with strained eyes and an exasperated look on her face.

"I told you, I'm busy-"

"You need a break." Dick interrupted, playing the hypocrite with a grin. "Come on, two hours. We'll watch a movie, you can even pick. No sappy Rom-coms, anything you want. All your choice." He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Admittedly, Barbara was tempted, but she let out an indulgent sigh.

"Fine. I'll set up notifications to alert me if anything that needs to get scrub gets posted." She quickly type out a few things on to the computer, having it connected to her phone before Dick whisked her off with way too much excitement.

It was a simple notification system. One that would alert her if anyone's vigilantes identities were mentioned in the media. Unfortunately, it wasn't set up to alert her if anyone's civilian identities were mentioned. That included the family's only civilian member as well.

And, a lot can happen in two hours with the power of the internet and a very interesting topic.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You were having a good day. A very nice day. You had gone out into the world, enjoying the sights and sounds of a mid-morning Gotham. Ignoring the wailing sirens in the distance, by now you had grown used to it.

Dick, Babs, and Alfred where in the manor doing either Bat stuff or sleeping. Damian was visiting Jon. Duke was on patrol. Cass was at dance practice. Bruce was at the Watchtower. Tim was at the Wayne office. Stephanie was your chaperone (stalker) of the day. And, Jason was fuck who knows where.

A peaceful, calm day.

Until you got a Twitter notification and you realized...

"Oh, that's not good. That is really not good." You mutter, watching as the internet burns while you drink your coffee. Not like you could do much else. You still sent a quick text to Conner, just to prepare him while you mentally packed.

You warned him when he suggested filming the two of you making love in the Wayne manor parlor right in front of the fireplace.

You had suggested you’d both go to the mountains and fuck in the wild, but he just had to be kinky and want to do it in the manor. Better lighting he said.

If it wasn’t for the fact that it had been your anniversary and he had pulled out all the stops, you would’ve said no. (It doesn’t matter that he had you literally crying from the pleasure when the two of you had finally finished filming. Nope. Not at all.)

However, that mountain sex might still be on the table. You didn't want to be around when the rest of the family saw that video, so a remote location in the mountains sounded like a decent idea. You’d been wanting to runaway from the manor for a while anyway.

“Hey, Steph, hand me your phone real quick…” Best to probably by yourself some time.

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Conner had a tendency to mute his notification on all his socials. Not that he didn't look at what people tagged him in or mentioned him in. He just find it easier to manage.

So when he got a text from you saying to check Twitter, he was a bit puzzled. But, he figured you had seen him tagged in something funny and wanted him to see it too.

Only for the record in his head to scratch when he realized what he had been tagged in.

"SHIT! Shit, shit, shit, shit." Could he get off planet fast enough? This was bad. Not the video. That was good. He may have thrown extra fuel on the fire by liking it and retweeting it on to his official account, but, damn it, was he proud of that. Probably shouldn’t have hired that rando to edit it for him though.

But, yeah, he was about to possibly be the only man ever murdered in cold blood by Batman. It was one thing to fuck his civilian daughter, but filming it in the man’s own home? Yeah, the kryptonite was definitely coming out and getting stabbed into his skull.

"JON! Distract Damian!" Conner yelled out before taking off, knowing that Jon's super hearing would pick up it up. Best get to Gotham and grab you before Batman came after his ass.

There was a nice planet a few solar systems over that you two could have some fun on. Maybe if he was lucky, you could visit that spot in front of the fireplace on last time. He doubted the two of you would get another chance to do it there again.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Jason had actually been at Roy’s that day, having finished some Outlaw business from the night before. Only to be interrupted when Roy suddenly choked on his drink and sprayed it all over him from across the table. Soaking Jason and the papers on said table.

“What the fuck?” He muttered in disgust whipping the dripping liquid off him.

Roy, however, was still choking. Wheezing as he clutched his phone like it was the most precious thing in existence.

“Nothing! Nothing!” Instantly, Roy was trying to back the video up the Cloud and his back up phone. He’s paid for porn with less quality than this and he was not wasting this opportunity before it was scrubbed from the internet.

“Let me see that.” Jason pushed the table and slammed it into Roy’s gut, causing the phone to clatter on to it. A video silently playing on the screen.

A video of two people in a fancy parlor. Doing very intimate things.

Two people Jason knew. In a fancy parlor that Jason knew.

A parlor that Jason had literally sat in three days ago watching the fire in the exact same fireplace.

“Did you fucking save this, asshole?”

“Dude, that is ART!”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Back in the BatCave Alfred had come down to tidy up after resting a bit only to look at the screen in horror. Despite his many skills, socially media escaped him at times.

However he did manage to learn one thing…

“That was what was on my bloody carpet?!”

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Tim had been in his office, going over a couple charts when his secretary burst into the room. Stumbling and falling on the floor panting. One of her heels broken.

Normally she was a serious and composed woman, not tolerating any nonsense from him. So this behavior was unexpected and worrisome.

Tim rushed to stand up at help her when she suddenly blurted out, “Leaked sex tape!”

That made him panic. Before confusion hit him.

“Wait, did I film on of those? I don’t remember filming one of those-“

“Your sister! Superboy! PR is going fucking nuts and getting calls. Share prices are fucking increasing because of this!”

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The Justice League Watchtower was in a meeting. Quite a long one judging by the way most of it’s members sitting around the table seemed to be drifting off or subtly scrolling their phones.

Oliver Queen, Green Arrow was one of those people scrolling. Checking over twitter, catching up on the latest gossip. Only to nearly fucking scream in the middle of the meeting when he realized what Superboy had shared on his official account.

Forget man of steel, the kid has damn balls of steel.

Worst yet, the video had been posted for over an hour. A full hour. Almost two. There was no way that was going to be getting scrubbed and forgotten. He’d bet it was in a military archive already with a team of scientist documenting the half-Kryptonian’s dick size right now.

It was an impressively long video. One that Oliver was sorely tempted to watch. But, he didn’t because he knew Batman would actually rearrange his face if he did. Like fist and plastic surgery rearrange it.

So, when he heard Batman’s voice ring out in the meeting, he broke his phone in half to hide the evidence of his discovery.

Only, Batman hadn’t been calling for his attention. He was calling for Booster Gold’s.

“Booster, focus on the meeting. Put that away—“

It was amusing to see Booster get caught with his phone out watching him scramble to shut it off in a panic. Only for it to fall to the ground.

And, the sound to turn on at full volume.

Moans to fill the silent void of the room.

Oliver could only look on in horror when he realized just what Booster had been watching, during a Justice League meeting, and across the table from Batman himself.

“Conner, please, p-please, stop teasing.”

“No, I don’t think I will. You look so pretty like this. All nice and—“

No one moved. Not as they watched Batman literally work through every emotion under that cowl of his and Superman’s face went as white as it possibly could, anguish washing over both their faces when they realized who was in the video booster was watching.

Diana was the only one that stood up and moved to pick up the phone. Everyone held their breaths when she slowly looked down at the screen.

“Quite impressive. You both must be proud.” She said with a slight hum.

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A/N: I apologize so much for this, but I just was cackling the entire time I came up with this and wrote it. Forgive me y’all! 🙏🏻

A/N: All the Twitter stuff was randomly generated and picked! I’m not good with it, but I added it for giggles!

[wondersinwaynemanor]

hc that the batkids' partners go to Steph for anything as she's a batfam member already so she has ideas on what the others like or dislike.

1.

Wally, hands Steph a Batburger: Here ya go.

Steph, narrows her eyes on the food: Extra cheese?

Wally nods.

Steph: Did you ask for extra ketchup?

Wally, shrieks: You don't have ketchup in your apartment???

Steph: Do you want to know whether Dick liked the flowers you gave him last week or not?

Wally, already zooming away: Give me a sec, Stephanie!

2.

Roy, hands her the coffee machine that he fixed: Just loose wiring.

Steph, nods at it: Great job, Harper. Thanks.

Steph, hands Roy the tools she borrowed from the cave for his next project: If these even get a little scratch, B will not be pleased.

Roy, rolls his eyes: Delicate fingers, Brown.

Roy, hands some flowers he got from Dinah's shop: I believe these are fresh, Cass will love these.

Steph, smells them: Beautiful.

Steph, hands the special recipe of Butternut Squash soup that Jason loves: And if you lose this.... Then Alfie will take both of us down in a heartbeat.

Roy: I would never want to be against Alfred.

3.

Steph, groans: What is it this time, Clone?

Kon, floats by Steph on the rooftop: How did you handle it when Rob was having nightmares?

Steph: Does he still sleepwalk?

Kon, shrieks: He sleepwalks???

Steph, shrugs: Maybe.

Kon: What am I supposed to do??

Steph, shrugs casually: Slap him awake and kiss him, I supposed.

4.

Izzy, calls Steph: So...

Steph: I figure you need some advise on something related to Duke?

Izzy: Hey, I was just going to ask if you want to go get your nails done.

Steph: You paying?

Izzy: You are the one living under that mansion, Steph.

Steph: Not exactly.

Izzy: Ohh.

the conversation dies down for a couple of seconds, before Steph speaks again.

Steph, sighs: Take him to the new movie that's out. He likes Sci-fi movies.

Izzy, squeals: You're the best, Steph!

5.

Steph: It's about time the little Kent showed up.

Jon, floats by Steph on the rooftop: So Kon has done this too?

Steph: All of them thinks I know everything.

Jon: Well, you have the advantage.

Steph just shrugs and then shows Jon the kitten she picked on the street yesterday.

Steph: Here. She's cleaned and I also fed her some of my food at home, but Dami has everything she needs so make sure you handle her with care, okay? Not the Kryptonian strength of yours.

Jon, nods eagerly and takes the kitten from her hands: Got it. Thank you, Stephanie.

Steph, ruffles his hair: Steph is alright, little dude.

[cutielando]

qatar, qatar | l.n.

synopsis: in which you pick up the pieces after the shit show that was the Qatar Grand Prix

a/n: i think everyone needs a pick-me-up after that shit show that they called a race. also, this is very rushed, so i do apologize if it sucks ass

my masterlist

A clown show.

Those were the best words that you could use to describe what the Qatar Grand Prix had proved to be.

The FIA had all but shit on Lando and his efforts during the entire race, the harsh penalty he had been given being completely ridiculous and blown out of proportion.

You had watched everything unfold from the garage, debating what had happened with Keegan and Jon at the end of the race.

And yet, even though neither of you could come up with an explanation for what happened, all 3 of you came to the same conclusion.

"He's going to be absolutely devastated" you had all agreed.

Hearing his voice on the radio at the end, broken and absolutely exhausted, made your heart clench even more in your chest. He had been so excited, so happy and positive going into the race, and everything went out the window in a matter of seconds.

Watching him sit in the car after he parked added more salt to the wound. You knew he would be beating himself up for his 'mistake', and you knew it would take a lot to try and make him feel better.

You were chewing your bottom lip as you waited for Lando to come back from his media duties. You were racking your brain about what you should say to him, whether you should even mention the race at all or just avoid the subject altogether.

The sound of the small door opening snapped you out of your thoughts, you eyes landing on Lando.

"Hey, baby" you greeted him, your eyes instantly going to his face.

He looked so tired, so devastated and sad. Your heart clenched at the sight of him, so broken and just plain exhausted.

He didn't say anything in return, only came and sat down next to you, his gaze fixated on the floor.

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke, letting a tense silence swallow you whole.

You didn’t even know what you could possibly say to make him feel better. Words just didn’t seem to be enough.

“It’s not your fault, baby” you whispered, putting your hand on his back and rubbing soothing circles.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

"I should have seen the flag, I should have slowed down. I may have just cost us the championship because I was too stupid not to see those flags" he said, his voice dripping with defeat and sarcasm.

"Hey, don't say that. Even the team hadn't realized what happened, you should have seen the way those flags were being waved. Yellow, then green, then blue, then green again, then yellow once again. It's not your fault, Lando" you said, doing your best to sound as convincing as possible.

But you knew it was in vain. He shook his head, hanging his head lower than before.

You continued rubbing circles on his back, your other hand taking a hold of his.

"I should've known" he whispered, his voice small.

It broke your heart to see him like this, so down and vulnerable. This wasn't your Lando, the happy and cheerful boy you had fallen in love with.

You didn't say anything for a little while, letting a more comfortable silence envelop you two. You didn't even know what you could possibly say.

"How about we pack up and go to the hotel? We can talk there, I don't want you hanging around here right now" you suggested, patiently waiting for a response from him.

He hesitated a little before finally nodding, needing to get away from the paddock as soon as possible.

You made quick work in packing up everything for him, letting him rest while you took care of everything.

The ride to the hotel was quiet, soft music playing in the background. Lando spent the entire ride looking out the window, seemingly deep in thought, his hand tightly clasped in yours. You kept rubbing little soothing motions on his soft skin, hoping it provided at least the knowledge that you were there for him, no matter what.

He still didn't say anything until you made it to the room, silently moving through the kitchen.

"Do you want me to run you a warm bath?" you asked, your voice soft.

He nodded, giving you a small hint of a smile as he finally looked at you. You could see the silent torment going on behind his eyes, which broke your heart even more as you looked at him.

You went over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, nuzzling your face into his before making your way towards the bathroom.

Once you got him in the warm water, you could slowly see his muscles relaxing, the creases on his forehead smoothing out.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked, your voice small.

He sighed, not saying anything for a moment before he opened his eyes and turned to look at you, sitting on the floor next to the tub.

"I feel like I've let everybody down. I should have seen those yellows, I should have slowed down and then maybe I could've caught Max and won. We would have won the championship if it weren't for my mistake" he said, his voice a little shaky.

You shook your head, your hand coming to rest on his cheek.

"Don't say that. This was not your fault, do you hear me? I was watching that broadcast and the yellows were not shown on time for you to see them, they didn't even know if they should show them or not. This is not your fault, this is solely on the FIA, okay?" you spoke, looking into his eyes.

He bit his lip, wanting to argue with you, but upon seeing the fire in your eyes, decided against it.

"I just feel like I've let everyone down" he whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

He cared so much about everyone around him, from the team all the way to the fans, and he hated feeling like he's disappointed them. Even if it was something that he didn't have control over.

"No, Lando, nobody is disappointed or mad at you. Everyone is saying that you didn't deserve that penalty and you should have won, everyone. Don't ever, for even a second, think that this is your fault. I need you to believe that" you were determined to make him see the light at the end of the tunnel, to make him understand that there was still hope.

He bit his lip, tears now freely falling down his face.

He didn't think he could put into words how grateful he was that he had you. You were his solace when everything seemed to go against him, you were his peace when everything around him was chaos, you were his everything.

He couldn't imagine being able to cope with everything if it wasn't for you.

"I just want this to end" he whispered, pursing his lips as even more tears fell down his cheeks.

You sat up and cradled his head to your chest, running a hand through his wild curls.

You held him as he silently cried, holding your own tears at bay. You needed to stay strong for him, you needed to show him that despite what he might have been feeling, everything was going to be okay.

His sobs quieted down after a while, only his silent sniffles disturbing the silence. The water was already cold, which sent a shiver through Lando's body.

"Come on, I don't want you to get sick" you said as you let go of him with a kiss on the forehead and held up his towel.

Once you got him dressed up in something comfy, you both settled into the comfortable and soft bed.

You were trying to get a read on him, detect anything that could indicate how he was feeling.

In the end, you decided to just ask.

"How are you feeling?"

He shrugged, but he didn't seem as sad as he had been before.

"I'm still sad, and still disappointed, but I feel a little better thanks to you" he said and gave you the first genuine smile of the evening, warming your heart in the process.

You smiled and leaned in, pressing your lips against his soft ones. You poured every ounce of love and adoration you carried for him in the kiss, hoping that it could speak for you.

When you pulled away, his smile was even wider now. He looked like he wanted to say something, but his phone dinged with a message just as he had opened his mouth.

He took it and unlocked, chuckling a little once he saw the message.

max f: wanna hop on stream and forget about tonight?

You smiled, knowing that streaming with Max would always guarantee to put a smile on his face.

"Do you mind?" he asked, looking at you hopefully.

You shook your head, running a hand through his damp curls.

"Go ahead. I'll take out my Kindle and read a little" you said, your heart warming at the happy look on his face.

And that's how you spent the rest of your evening, bundled up in bed, him with Max and you engrossed in your book.

Just enjoying each other's presence.

Because in the end, that's all he needed to forget.

Just you.

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[afro-hispwriter]

Interview Shenanigans(TGC)

Tom Glynn-Carney x actress!reader

Request

Warnings- not edited, brief titty grabbing

wc-1.2k

-

Staff members were running around making sure lighting, sound, and cameras were ready. The interviewer was standing off to the side, waiting for their queue. 

Your makeup artist did some more touch ups and the show's publicist gave another talk. 

“You’re so far.” Tom put his hand under your chair and dragged it so your chairs touched. The sudden movement made you grab his shoulder so you didn’t fall. 

“Do you not get enough of me at home?” You whisper.

“I never can.” He flashed you a smile and squeezed your knee. You scrunched your nose at him and kissed his cheek. 

It was so hard for you two to keep your relationship away from the public. Especially since Tom is extremely touchy.

“Everyone take their places.” The producer calls out and everyone takes their seats. The interviewer walked into the small space and shook you and Tom's hand. The producer then started counting down from five. 

“Alright guys, we're going to jump right into it. I know you have had a long day so I have some fun questions and some would you rather.” 

“I'm excited.”

“Fun.”

“You guys have been working together for a couple years now. What's the best thing about each other?” They ask and you and Tom look at each other.

“Ooo that's such a sweet question.” You smile brightly and look at Tom. “Why don’t you go first?” You look at him with squinted eyes and he gives you the same look.

“Fine. I think the best thing about Y/n is how kind she is, she is very resilient and always tries to see the bright side of things and she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” 

“Awww.” You cooed and smiled. “You’re so sweet.” 

“And she is a good cook.” You doubled over slightly and laughed. 

“I know you love it.” You leaned back against your chair and Tom looked at you lovingly and you sighed. 

“Tom, he um.” You start and pause to think.

“Oh whatever should you say since there is so much to choose from.” He says over exaggerating his words making you laugh.

“Tom, he makes sure that I am seen and even if he has nothing to say he still listens, always. I believe we all need someone like that and I am glad I found him.” You grab Tom's knee and squeeze it. 

“Do you fancy me or something?” He says jokingly, making you laugh again and so does the interviewer. 

“He’s just such a good guy and I hope this isn’t the last time we share a screen together.” Tom nodded and lifted his fist up and you gave him a fist bump. 

“That is so sweet, I can feel your chemistry right now.” It was very cheesy for them to say but it made Tom's cheeks burn red and your face warmed. “Now to some would you rather questions. Would you rather go get a pint with Daemon, Joffrey, or Aemond?” 

“Aemond.” You immediately say and Tom’s head immediately shoots to you. 

“Why?” You smirk at him.

“You know why.” He playfully rolled his eyes and leaned back. 

“I would go with Joffrey.” Your eyes widened in shock. 

“And you questioned mine!?” 

“W-Why?” The interviewer asks and Tom goes to answer but stops making you laugh.

“You don’t have to say anything.” You whisper to him

“Well with Joffrey people would leave the pub and it would be quiet.”

“Yeah but I think with Joffery, three pints in and it can get a bit.” The interviewer grimaced. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be near him.” You leaned slightly into Tom. 

“I reckon I can take him though.” Tom says.

“Tom vs Joffrey?” 

“Yeah I’ll just choke him out.” Tom makes the choking motion with his arm and then he dropped them. 

“I'd pay to see that.” You say and Tom laughs and his arm makes its way around your chair. 

“Who would you rather have as your Ride or Die? Jon Snow, Khalessi, or Daemon.”

“Khalessi.” You say immediately again. “Everyone is gone when she is an option.” 

“Your obsession with her is concerning.”

“You can’t blame me.” 

“She is very loyal so I understand.” The interviewer says.

“Im sorry whats a ride or die?” Tom asks, looking between you and the interviewer. 

“It's like me and you.” You say and he still looked at you in confusion. “Like I will do anything for you and you’ll do anything for me no matter what.” You grabbed his knee and you nodded. 

“What were the options?” Tom chuckles.

“Jon Snow, Khalessi, or Daemon.” 

“Oh probably Khalessi then, you know she’s got all the dragons.” 

“Ugh you are so predictable.” You rolled your eyes and he shrugged. 

“I love whatever you love.” He poked your side and made you twist. 

“You’re so cheesy.” You rolled your eyes playfully and looked back at the interviewer.

“Would you rather rule the seven kingdoms of Westeros or be a minister of magic in the wizarding world?”

“Oooo.” Tom lets out.

“Minister of Magic.” You say and Tom nods.

“Likewise.”

“I feel like I would have a higher chance of surviving if I was in that universe.” You say and Toms fingers dipped into the material of your open backed outfit. 

“Well it's still not an easy gig is it?”

“But compared to westeros…” 

“True. There are still a lot of eyes on you.” Then Tom says the stupidest thing. “Wingardium Tapioca or whatever it is.” Your jaw slacked in shock and then your face palmed. Tom looked embarrassed and slapped his legs and started laughing loudly. 

“Oh my gosh Tom.” He grabbed his cup of water and took a sip. 

“I'm going to go cry in the shower after this.”

“Next time we hang out we’re watching all the Harry Potter movies because that was really bad. It's Wingardium Leviosa.” 

“Nerd.” Tom says under his breath in a teasing manner and you squint your eyes.

“Watch yourself sir.” You bumped him with your arm.

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Unfortunately that's all the time we have left.” You and Tom groaned but you secretly knew you were happy it was over. You both held your hand out to the interviewer and Tom's assistant came up.

“The car is outside to take you back to the hotel.” You thanked them and Tom held his hand out for you to grab. Your fingers entwined together and you swung them back and forth to the car. 

-

The hotel room was a welcome sight. Tom threw his hat on the floor and kicked his shoes off. 

“They’ll come by and get these clothes tomorrow most likely.” You say taking off your bottoms, leaving you in your underwear and top. That came off too and so did your bra. Tom stole a look and he smirked and let you put a shirt on. You flopped down on the bed and settled under the covers. Tom was down to his boxers and he settled in behind you. 

“I love you.” He says and kisses the back of your ear and wraps an arm around your waist.

“I love you too.” You twist your head back and pucker your lips. Tom’s lips met yours and he squeezed you. His hand dipped under the shirt and his gingers instantly grabbed a breast and he squeezed. The noise you made was a mix of shock and a moan.

“Tom!” You pinched his arm and he drew his hand back and pouted. “Perv.”

“You love it.” He gave your cheek a big wet kiss, making you grimace and wipe it off.

“Order us some food.”

‘Hmph’

-

Comments, reblogs, and likes are greatly appreciated!

[clockwayswrites]

Danny in Metropolis Ch2/Part 1

You all voted 🌆- I deliver! masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

Kon knocked on the door frame of Clark’s office. The door was open. It always was unless Clark was on the phone or working on some story he didn’t feel Kon and Jon should see (as if Kon wasn’t a superhero too). Clark must be editing at the moment with how he was frowning at the screen with his nose all crookedly scrunched up. The expression cleared with Kon’s knock, and Clark turned around with a little smile.

“Heya Kon, how was school today?”

Kon shrugged. School was fine, but it had been another day that Danny hadn’t eaten any lunch except for the apple sliced Kon had stubbornly nudged his way. “Actually, I kinda had something, like, tangentially related to school I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Sure of course!” Clark quickly cleared off the second chair in the room and set the reference books on the floor at his feet.

Kon had a feeling the books wouldn’t be in a neat stack for long. For being Superman, Clark could be incredibly clumsy. Kon thought it might come from having to be so careful with every little movement that it all had to come out somewhere.(Not that Kon understood or anything…)

Once Kon had actually crossed the threshold and took the seat, Clark smiled (a little small, a little nervous) and asked, “So what’s this tangential issue?”

Kon fidgeted with one of of his many rings, turning it on his finger. “I’ve mentioned Danny, right?”

Clark nodded. “The new student that you partnered up with for your English project. Are you having trouble working with him?”

“No,” Kon said quickly. “Danny’s good. He’s, um, great actually. I’m just worried about him.”

“Worried how?” Clark asked as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Kon couldn’t decided if he looked more like a reporter or a dad right then.

“He doesn’t eat anything at lunch,” Kon explained. The words came out in a rush. “I don’t think he trusts food from his house much. Seems his parents bring their research work home sometimes, or used to pretty badly. So, of course I’m worried about him eating dinner too! But like, at least lunch I can know about? And he doesn’t want to eat the school lunches which I totally get, they’re nasty. So, I just, was maybe wondering, especially if I helped out some, if I could bring a second lunch with me for him?”

“Sure, of course we can, Kon,” Clark said gently. Softly. “Do you know if he has any food allergies or preferences?”

“Um, yeah, I asked him and made notes,” Kon said. He was a bit thrown by the easy acceptance, but he wasn’t going to try to over analyze it. Instead, Kon pulled out his phone and over to the notes he’d made (hopefully stealthily) while they had worked on the project. “So, meat is iffy. He says it depends on the day. But tofu is out. Weirdly also no plain broths, jello, or Gatorade? Or at least not cherry or lime of those.”

Kon didn’t expect Clark to frown at the list. It was a bit weird, sure, but it wasn’t really hard to work around most of that. No meat was the hardest part, but there was always yogurt or PB&J.

“Has Danny been seriously ill?”

Kon looked up from his phone, startled. “What?”

“It’s just that broths, jello, and drinks like Gatorade are often prescribed for something called a ‘clear’ diet that people are put on for certain medical conditions, procedures, or hospital stays. Since Danny ate those things enough for them to be on a no list…”

“Oh." Kon looked back down at the phone in his hands. He took a deep breathe and made himself relax his grip before he broke another phone. “I think there’s been a few times that he’s almost fainted at school and he had a really nasty nose bleed once. You think he’s really sick?”

“I might just be reading into it too much,” Clark said with that ‘trying to soothe civilians’ smile of his.

It didn’t help.

“But that list is no problem at all! I’m happy to pack another lunch. It’s no more work really to do one more. But, you’ll need to pick up a lunch box for him this weekend so I have it for Monday, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll do that. Thank you, ah, Clark.” Dad.

“Of course, Kon. I’m happy to help you out with whatever you need.”

“Thanks, I’ll let you get back to work,” Kon said before he left quickly.

[nightingale-prompts]

The Eldritch Coffeehouse-DCxDP prompt-part 2(I guess)

Part 1

Elle had a way of convincing people. Like how she convinced Damian Wayne that they were now best friends and to come over to her family's business after-school.

Damian was only going along with this because of the prodding of his family to make friends. This wasn't something that came easy to him as no one would understand him. But Nightingale had been more understanding than most in his life. She was very...nice. She had these big ideas that always went ahead of her and plans that were larger than life. She always had too much energy and found it hard in school to get it out. Naturally, she was head of the track team but she'd always complain about wanting to join the music club.

Jon had met her once while trying to sneak up on them at the end of the day. She pinned him in a triangle chokehold until Damian called her off. Damian didn't call her off immediately though.

She was still more apologetic than he liked.

"I can make it up to you guys. Let's go to my family's café! We can eat ourselves sick on pastries and cake! My brother should still be making hot chocolate right now!" She told them.

Damian was nice enough to tell Dick where he was going and to not wait up. Alfred was already in the car in front of the school and drove the three to the...graveyard?

"Thank you Mister Pennyworth! Do you want to join us?" Elle asked loudly but politely.

Alfred accepted graciously and agreed to stay for a cup of tea before heading back. He would come pick up Damian later.

The walk through the graveyard was daunting for Jon and only for Jon. It wasn't as scary as he thought since it was only the afternoon and the weather was warm. A few cats rested on tombstones soaking in the heat. A few birds gathered here and there hunting for worms and seeds. There were food and water dishes here and there for the felines and fresh seeds sprinkled on the grass for the birds.

"I usually clean and change the food dishes in the morning. But Dan likes to feed the birds."

Elle walked the row of mausoleums until she stopped at one and pushed the stone door open and a skipped down a stairs and opened the smooth mahogany door in the café.

Behind the counter a young man stood pouring drinks.

"Elle you're back. Take this cup to table 3." He said putting a cup and saucer on a serving tray.

"I just got here! At least let me change or tell you we have guests." She whined but picked up the trey and marched over to the table.

"Guests? I'm sorry. Welcome to the Catacomb Club. How can we make your afterlife?" He said smoothly.

"Elle said we could eat sweets," Jon spoke up first and Damian elbowed him.

"Oh? Well, we have a batch of leftovers from this morning. Since you're her school friends you can get some from the kitchen." The barista said.

"Yay! Thanks Danny!" Elle had returned and opened the door to the backroom to grab some fresh plates and loading them up with sweets.

"Anything I can get for you, sir?" Danny asked Alfred.

"Just an Earl Gray. Or an Early Grave as you call it on the menu." Alfred said.

***

Elle presents a variable buffet of sweets to the boys. She really meant it when she said eat themselves sick.

The menu had no shortage of available snacks:

Tombstone Tarts – Mini fruit tarts with gravestone-shaped pastry toppers. (Jazz's pick)

Phantom Opera Cake – Layers of dark chocolate and coffee mousse with a smoky glaze.(Save a slice for Danny's SPECIAL guest (Jazz STOP)

Ethereal Cheesecake – A white chocolate cheesecake with a "foggy" vanilla glaze (You can just slap the word ethereal on things when you can't come up with something witty.) (Watch me)

Shadow Éclairs – Black cocoa éclairs filled with blood orange cream. (DANNY STOP EATING THE ORANGES) (no)

Soulful Scones – Charcoal scones served with berry jam and clotted cream.

Midnight Mocha Cupcakes – Chocolate cupcakes with espresso buttercream and a ghostly fondant topper. (Ew fondant)

Cemetery Soil – Chocolate pudding "dirt" with gummy worms and cookie gravestones. (Dani ate all the gummy worms again)

Wraith Cupcakes – Vanilla cupcakes with smoky gray frosting and sugar ghost toppers. (Dani's favorite)

Blackberry Bat Muffins – Dark muffins with blackberry compote and bat-shaped toppers. (Save some for that Cass girl)

Candied Skull Pops – Lollipops shaped like skulls in eerie colors.

Necropolis Nougat – Black and white nougat with bits of candied nuts and dried fruit. (Dan's favorite) (Weirdo)

Spirit’s Whisper Bark – White and dark chocolate bark with ghostly swirls and edible glitter.(please don't let Dani eat the glitter)

Moonlight Marshmallows – Homemade marshmallows in ghost or crescent moon shapes. (Danny's favorite)

Blood Velvet Rolls – Red velvet Swiss rolls filled with red cream cheese frosting. (Dan's favorite) (you can't have more than one favorite) (watch me)

Just like the rest of the menu there were comments going back and forth.

"The workers seem to argue constantly." Damian said bitting into a tart

Jon was making his way through the cake pops first.

"Well, we are family. We argue all the time but we don't mean it. Although I'm still mad they didn't like my dessert list." Elle sighed.

"Like what?" Damian asked.

"I had so many ideas like Eyeball pops filled with jelly, Bloody Bones white chocolate covered in raspberry syrup, or Maggot Macaroons with gummy worms in them," Elle said wiggling her fingers to mimic worms. "But Jazz said they were too gross sounding to sell. Humans have such weak stomachs."

Damian wanted to point out that Jon wasn't human and even he turned green. Damian on the other hand was intrigued. Elle was always entertaining to listen to.

The three enjoyed their snacks after Alfred finished his tea and took off.

Jon's Kryptonian appetite helped get through the bulk of it because Damian stopped short to not spoil his appetite.

This was wise since the Cafe preparing to switch to its bar setting with a more lively Jazz band and dinner menu.

Jon groaned at the thought of more food as he rested his face on the cool polished wood that smelled faintly of rose incense. He should have noticed by now that something as off but his stomach has been a major distraction. Had it been his father then who was trained to sense the issue the jig would have been up.

You see, they were the only mortals in the room.

Not one heartbeat could be heard. Jon should have known so much earlier when Elle managed to surprise him without her heart rate going up.

"Dani- I mean Elle?" A voice from the kitchen called.

A young woman with long red locks came into view. Her dress, a 50s style black tea-length poodle skirt. Instead of the usual poodle pattern on the hem, there was a white skeletal cat. She had on a pair of balck frilled short gloves. Other than her dress she wore an apron with a black ribcage design that matched the uniforms of the other workers/family members here. Her teal eyes softened when she saw Elle sitting with her friends

"Yeah, Jazz?" Elle asked.

"Do you still want to go on stage tonight or do you want to stay with your friends? And do you still want dinner?" Jazz asked in succession.

"I'm still going to do my set. And can I get carbonara and a glass of...um..." Elle struggled to find the word for the liquid that every undead in the area came here for. "My medicine."

Damian's ear picked up the hesitation in her voice.

"You take a perception?" Damian said perhaps a bit thoughtless since not everyone wants to talk about their medical issues. But he had never seen her take medicine at school and didn't know a medication that would be taken later in the day that wasn't also taken early.

"Kinda, it's something I have to take to keep living. But it like it, the juice I mean. You'd like it too but you don't need it. Dan is kinda stingy with who gets some. You types aren't allowed. Only members." Elle knew that this place was an open secret. It's not like they kept their ghostly nature secret. Everyone just thinks they are keeping up the theme while they were all completely serious. Besides lying isn't their nature.

Still, Elle wasn't being completely honest which isn't something that comes naturally to her. Bending the truth will have to do.

Damian let it go for now. He didn't need to know her medical history...yet.

Jon was taking a nap now anyways. Damian stole his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to the Kent family in case they wanted to know where Jonathan was.

Ellehad to change clothes into her uniform and grab her violin. It wasn't a surprise to Damian who knew she like music but he had never heard her play. Now she was on stage playing with the folk band as the guest clapped and danced.

Jazz brought out some food for them to eat while Danny traded places with a tall burly man who was definitely the eldest brother.

As Damian ate he listened to Elle play...well the band play but it was mostly Elle who he was listening for. He heard a familiar voice from behind his booth and when he looked over it was none other than Jason fucking Todd talking to the bartender. Talking? I meant failing miserably to flirt and having the tables turned on him easily.

[fxrmuladaydreams]

austria ‘24

lando x reader

summary: you let lando take his frustrations out on you after the austrain gp

notes: please please please forgive me for being gone for so long, it’s been hard finding the motivation to write lately, but this one came pretty easy to me after the race. i hope you enjoy it 🤍

warnings: !! CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI !! oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, a little bit of degradation from lando

wc: 1467

You can’t remember exactly how long you’d held your breath for, standing next to Jon in the garage, gripping onto his arm as Lando and Max fought for the lead. You could practically feel your heart beating out of your chest. They were both aggressive, competitive drivers, neither backing down from the fight.

You feel your heart drop to your stomach as you see them make contact, both with punctures in their tyres as they slide into the gravel.

You close your eyes and let out a breath as Lando drives slowly back out onto the track, countless cars already zooming past. He manages to drag the car back to the pitlane, halting the mechanics work when he stands up and gets out of the car.

He keeps his helmet on as he walks past everyone, attempting to keep his cool while he’s still within view of the cameras.

“You should go talk to him.” Jon says to you, nodding in the direction Lando walked off in.

You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for what you're about to walk into.

You follow his path down the hall, stopping outside the door to his driver’s room. You lift a fist to the door and gently knock. When you don’t get a response you call out to him.

“Lando? It’s me…”

The door opens slightly, Lando’s hand reaches out to grab onto your wrist, tugging you inside, then closing the door again behind you.

He’s got his race suit hanging around his waist. His shoulders are tense as he paces back and forth in the small room. He looks like he’s trying to slow his breathing, to calm down, but can’t.

“Are you alright?” You ask softly.

“Fine.” His voice is short, clipped, giving you a warning that he’s trying his best not to blow up, especially at you.

You sigh, and lean against the wall, watching as he moves around the room. He’s clearly trying to keep himself distracted, occupied as he fiddles with the strap on his helmet.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He looks up at you for the first time when you ask. His eyes are rimmed with red, his cheeks flushed, and his face still damp with sweat. You can’t tell if he’s about to cry or burst from frustration. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Max pushed too hard.”

He closes his mouth, his brows raising in surprise.

“He pushed you off track. It’s clearly visible in the footage.”

“The FIA won’t do anything about it.” He grumbles. “He always wins, he’s always on top… I can’t believe he would wreck my race like that.” He huffs. “I was driving fair, and he just completely wrecked my car. And he’s still going to get points.”

You reach out for his hand and pull him over to you.

“There was nothing you could’ve done.” You gently stroke his cheek. “Is there anything I can do?”

He shakes his head, looking down at his hand in yours.

You tilt his chin up to look at you again. “Maybe… help you blow off some steam?” Your hand moves to tangle itself in his hair.

“I need to go talk to the media…” He murmurs, resting his forehead against yours, clearly not making any move to leave you.

“And think of how grateful everyone will be if you go back out there with a clearer head…”

Before he can reply you tilt your head up to give him a teasing kiss. His lips chase yours when you pull away.

“Your choice, handsome.”

He wastes no time lifting you up by your legs, keeping your body trapped between his and the wall behind you. His lips crash against yours in a desperate needy kiss. His hands grip onto your thighs, hard enough that you wonder if you’ll have his handprints bruised into your skin by the time he’s finished with you.

He rolls his hips against yours as he kisses you, his already tight fireproofs feeling so much tighter against him.

His mouth trails down the side of your neck, leaving harsh bites in its trail. You let your head roll to the side, giving him more space to mark you up. Part of you wonders how difficult it’s going to be, hiding his marks when you leave, but with a roll of his hips and a low moan from his throat, all thoughts go out the door.

“Need you.” He groans in your ear.

He lets your legs drop back down to the ground, as he drops to his knees. His hands make quick work of your pants, tugging them down your legs so you can kick them off. He does the same with your underwear, then lets his fingers run through your folds.

“So wet for me.” He smirks up at you. He licks his fingers, and moans at the taste of you. He lifts one of your legs, putting it over his shoulder before he practically dives in to taste you.

Your hands tangle themselves in his messy curls, your head thrown back against the wall. You whimper as Lando sucks harshly on your clit, eager to get you to fall apart on his tongue.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer, as you pull on his hair, dragging his face away from your cunt.

He looks up at you surprised, almost offended, with his hazy eyes and your slick covering his chin.

“I need you to fuck me.” You tell him.

He grins, standing back up as he pulls his fireproofs down enough to free his cock.

He’s so hard, heavy in your hand as you stroke him.

He lifts you back up again, sliding the tip of his cock through your folds.

“Ready?” He asks.

You nod, then gasp, feeling him fill you up completely in one quick thrust. He stills for a moment, allowing you time to adjust, then gives an experimental thrust.

Your moan urges him to keep going. He fucks into you faster and harder than he’s ever done it before. You wrap your arms around him, attempting to keep yourself upright and stable.

He shows no sign of slowing, even as you tighten around him and moan his name, set on using you for his own pleasure, and it’s making you even more desperate for him.

He moves a hand to press his thumb against your clit, quickly hurtling you towards your orgasm.

You cry out, squeezing your eyes shut as he pounds relentlessly into you.

“That’s it, cum on my cock.” He growls. “Where do you want me to cum? Gonna let me cum inside you?” His voice is teasing.

You nod your head, unable to speak.

“Oh, have you become dumb on my cock?” He coos at you.

You can’t reply, simply burying your face in his neck.

“That’s okay. You don’t need to think baby, I’m gonna give you what you need, gonna fill you up with my cum…”

With a few more hard thrusts he feels himself spilling inside you, stilling his hips against yours. He takes a moment to catch his breath, then pulls out and gently lets your feet fall to the floor.

Your grip on him becomes tighter as you feel your legs nearly give out beneath you.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He says, carefully guiding you to the couch.

You try to calm your heartbeat, running a hand over your face.

He tucks himself back into his pants as he looks at you. “Shit, sorry…” Lando grimaces, looking between your legs.

While the sight of his cum spilling out of you sends a new wave of arousal down to his cock again, he searches for a towel.

In the many times the two of you had had sex, he’d never actually cum inside you before, always using a condom or pulling out.

He sits on his knees in front of you, gently wiping between your legs with the towel, apologizing when you wince.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” You smile at him. “Feeling better?”

He shrugs, but smiles. “About the race? Not really. About what just happened? Abso-fucking-lutely.”

You laugh as he grins. “You should go. Don’t want to keep the press waiting for you for too long.”

He leans his head against your knee. “Or… I could stay here, and we could do that all over again…”

You shake your head, grinning at him. “I will not be the reason you’re late.”

He huffs dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Fine.” He stands up, only to drop down on the couch next to you. “But you’d better still be here when I come back.”

“I will.” You nod.

“Without pants.” He says with a smirk, slipping out the door before you can reply.

[ishipgenfics]

Outsider POV on Somewhere Else Jonathan Sims must be just. so much.

Like imagine. You're part of a support group, and a new guy decides to join. You ask him his name and he says, "Jonathan," and then after a long pause, "Blackwood. Jonathan Blackwood. But call me Jon."

He doesn't like tape recorders. You only know this because the person who hosts the support group is into retro things, and tries to keep a couple around. She turned one on once when someone asked about it, and you noticed Jon clutching his nails into his hands so tight he's nearly breaking the skin. You lean over and whisper, "Do you want me to ask her to stop?" He says, "It's fine," and you nod, but you still try and change the subject whenever people bring up tape recorders from that point on.

He full-body flinches one day when someone says Hello, Jon. Nearly slams into a wall and everything. He tries to play it off, but after that people say Hi Jon, or Nice to see you, or things like that. Anything but Hello.

He says he used to work at a 'non-profit for studying the supernatural'. Someone asks where it was and he says London. You tell your wife about it, and two days later she emails you an article. Magnus Institute Burns Down In 1999. It was in Manchester. You tell her not to bring it up again.

The guy is snarky and blunt and downright rude at times, but when a woman comes in and tells them about being trapped in a empty warehouse for a week, he comforts her in a way none of the rest of them know how. "I believe you," he says, repeats it like a mantra, like a prayer. "I believe you." He says 'I'm sorry' less like he's sorry this happened to her, and more like he's taking the blame onto himself.

He talks about Martin, sometimes. His reason, he calls him. Normally you'd point out that while it's of course good to love your partner, you should have other reasons to live, but you stay quiet. This guy needs all the happiness he can get.

You leave a little late that day, and when you do you hear him on the phone talking to someone. "She'd been touched by the Lonely, Martin!" he says. "Which is bad, of course, but--" he seems to choke up, "Martin, I didn't feel any compulsion for a Statement. A-at all. I think it's really gone."

You just walk by.

You don't know what's going on with Jon, but it really isn't any of your business. You're an anxious queer lesbian and he's a traumatized ace guy, and you aren't going to make his life any harder than you have to.

Just. Jonathan Sims in a support group.