#hound barks at the wall

[anxiouslowercase]

SAS ROGUE HEROES + text posts i find on pinterest

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird & The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 13 ✿:+ What is Loyalty?

Chapter Index | next chapter

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: MDNI, SMUT, NSFW themes, Sandor “my wife” Clegane, Unprotected P in V sex, Oral sex (Fem rec), multiple reader orgasms, insecure reader, misogyny, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage, 

A/N: We're back at it again. A longer chapter for the come back lol

Word Count: 8.2K 

Sandor was part of Jon Snow’s party as they traveled through the lands beyond the wall on their mission to capture a wight. The party walked many many miles. Sandor contemplated what he was doing, he hated the extreme cold, but he reminded himself he was doing it for you. 

As he stopped to retie his boot, a tall, but much shorter than Sandor, red haired man approached him.

“You’re the one they call the dog!” The man shouted as he approached Sandor.

Sandor finished tying his boot, “Fuck off.” He huffed casually as he continued on.

The attitude did not deter the man as he followed Sandor, “They told me you were mean. Were you born mean or you just hate Wildlings?” 

“Don’t give two shits about Wildlings. Gingers I hate.” He said scowling at the red haired man.

The man amused by his words continued to talk despite Sandors obvious wishes for the conversation to end, “Gingers are beautiful, we’re kissed by fire. Just like you-“ The man said pointing a finger at Sandor's burned face.

Sandor hit the mans hand down and away from him, “Don’t point your fucking finger at me.” He barked at him.

Sandor walked away and yet somehow the man was not put off. He smiled and continued to walk alongside Sandor.

“Did you trip into the fire when you were a baby?” The man pried into Sandor's past.

“I didn’t trip, I was pushed.” Sandor huffed as he kept walking, not looking at the man.

“And ever since you’ve been mean.” The man surmised. 

“Will you fuck off?” Sandor annoyingly barked at him.

“I don’t think you’re truly mean. You have sad eyes.” The man tried to understand him, it struck a chord somewhere deep within him. He remembered how you once said something like that to him a long long time ago, whispered in the night as you held onto him. It was his final straw. 

Sandor stopped and scowled down at the red haired man, “You want to suck my dick is that it?”

“Dick?” The man asked, unfamiliar with the term.

“Cock.” Sandor translated. 

“Oh, dick... I like it.” The man shrugged, amused by the new word he had learned. 

Sandor scrunched up his face, now just confused by the entire interaction, “Bet you do.” He mocked, as he continued to walk.

The man still followed him, “No, it’s pussy for me. I have a beauty waiting for me back in Winterfell, if I ever get back there. (Y/H/C) hair…(Y/E/C) eyes…About this tall,” He gestured to your height. Sandor thought for a moment how similar his description was of you. But he was convinced it was a coincidence. “The perfect height for me. .” The man continued on, “Sharp tongued, bravest woman you’d ever seen. A high bred southern bird from a castle in the sky they say.” He said as if the memory of you was a breath of fresh air. However the description of you ran cold through Sandors body. 

Sandor stopped, and turned to the man, “(Y/N) Arryn?” 

“You know her?” He asked, happy to hear your name.

“You are with (Y/N) fucking Arryn?!” Sandor stepped closer, his words dripping with violent anger. 

The man almost shrunk as he explained, “Well not with her yet… but I’ve seen the way she looks at me.” 

Sandor scoffed, “How does she look at you?” He stepped closer to him, his words were dark and heavy, “Like she wants to carve you up and eat your liver?” His eyes narrowed onto the man.

“You do know her.” He said, narrowing his eyes back.

“Aye, I know her.” He scoffed as he kept walking, angry and jealous.

“You seen her fight?” He asked, following along with still.

“Fight?” Sandor practically spit his words at him.

“She’s a killer. I saw her take an arrow to her leg, while she bit a man's finger off, then she took that arrow, snapped it in half and stabbed that man in his eye with it.” He spoke of the violent act you committed, as if it were romantic.

Sandor shook his head and scoffed, “You’re a mad fucker you know that?” He knew now for certain you had too much good sense to be with a man like him, too much good sense to even entertain the idea.

The man continued, “It’s true. Cut through four men. Rode an entire army into battle. And fed a man to dogs.” Sandor thought of it, the last he saw of you you were a girl alone with no money, no army, no family, and the iron throne as an enemy against you. How could you have done so much, accomplished “I want to make babies with her. Think of them, they’d conquer the world!” 

Sandor snapped, turning to the man and grabbing him by his fur coat, “If you say the word babies again I'll strangle you with your own guts.” He barked loudly at him.

“There will be no fighting on account of my cousin. Not while she’s resting and not while we are on this mission.” Jon said, making Sandor huff and let go of the man.

“She’s your cousin now?” The man with red hair asked. Remembering when he told you you were not his cousin when you first met.

Jon looked down, somewhat regretful of his words, “She showed great loyalty to my blood, her blood. Cousin is close enough.” He said as he continued to walk, “And I will not have any of you fight over her favor when we’ve a matter of great importance to see to.” 

Sandor reluctantly continued on, angry and jealous. But now he knew where you were, and knew you were alive. That was enough for him to continue.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You lost so much in the war. Lika was your horse sense you were but a child. She was the first horse you’d learned to ride. You lost the last man who was eternally loyal to you, the last man who loved you in the way only a father could. As if that weren’t enough, your body was now littered with healing scars. A constant reminder of the price you paid.  

You sat by the fire in your chamber. You wore a white chemise and wrapped yourself in a fur as you examined the scar on your thigh. Running your finger over it, going over the memory of the pain. 

As you did, your chamber door opened suddenly. Making you pull your chemise down and covering your bare legs. 

Sansa walked in, closing the door behind her. “You’ve not left your chambers in some time.” She said, gently.

You let your guard down, relaxing. You looked into the fire, “Resting. Rest is needed to heal.” 

“You're healed.” She said bluntly, you looked at her, “Well, your leg is healed.” She replied plainly. 

You sighed, you knew she was right. You had used your injury as an excuse long enough. “Time they say.” you said dispassionately, “It heals all, though I am not sure of that.” You said gloomily. 

Sansa approached you, sitting beside you, “You never told me.” You looked at her confused. “The man you said you loved, that Baelish took from you.” She clarified. 

You took a deep breath, looking into the fire, “Sandor Clegane.” A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth at the sound of his name.

“The Hound.” She spoke calmly. 

You shook your head slowly as you thought back to it, “I just called him Sandor.” You looked into the fire again. Sansa’s silence made you feel uneasy. You didn’t dare look at her, fearful of her reaction. You knew she and he were in Kings Landing at the same time, maybe she’d only seen the cruelty that was demanded of him. “I know many think he was cruel-”

She interrupted your words, “He clothed me once. When Joffrey ordered his men to strip me while they beat me in the throne room. He didn’t.” You looked at her, you listened to her story as warm tears began to rise in your eyes, and your nose and cheeks began to flush with heat, “He gave me his white cloak.” She placed a hand on yours, “He was kind.” She smiled softly as she spoke kindly of your beloved rather than pass any judgment. You were grateful for that. 

You smiled, and sniffed your now runny nose, “Thank you.” You said as she wiped a tear from your cheek, forcing you to realize your tears had begun to fall. You breathed a laugh as you wiped them with the back of your hand. You looked down at the of yours hand that Sansa held, “I miss him.” You nodded, your smile falling, replaced with a frown, “His pain has ended, but… I am in agony.” You covered your face with your hands as you sobbed. 

Sansa held you. It reminded you of when you both were in Kings Landing and the roles were reversed. You always held her when she cried, you tried your best to comfort her but it never worked. Now you understand. 

You pulled away and swallowed your sobs, wiping away the rest of your tears with it. You took a deep breath. 

Sansa tucked your hair behind your ear as she spoke softly, “You hide it well enough to the others.” 

You huffed, tired of your emotion. “I have to have my moments of misery. If not I would throw myself from the highest tower I could find.” You let out one deep breath “You’re the only one I’d ever tell that to.” 

“I understand the feeling.” She nodded, 

You looked at her and focused on her experiences, “You’ve grown so much, you know. Not that you'd have any choice. Girls are beaten into women. But all the same, you’ve grown.” You forced a smile.

“In King's Landing I watched you closely. Every Time I was scared I thought of what you would have done. I learned how to carry myself from the strongest woman I know.” She smiled at you, and you smiled back, gripping tighter onto her hand. “Speaking of, I received this,” She looked down at the letters she received earlier that day. 

You opened it, your brows furrowed, “An invitation to King's Landing?” You scoffed at such a ridiculous idea. 

Sansa rolled her eyes in agreement, “For the both of us. For the Ladies of the North and East.” She sighed, “I know it is a part of Jon’s plan. But I can’t go back there.” She said defeatedly.

“I won’t leave you.” You said throwing the invitation into the fire you sat beside. “Send Brienne as your representative of the North. I will send Ser Leon in representation of myself.” You said confidently. 

She nodded, looked down then back to you, “There is more than this. Bran and Arya have returned to Winterfell.” 

You smiled, genuinely. You felt happiness for once in a very long while. Knowing Arya was safe gave you great happiness. You looked at Sansa, grinning from ear to ear. You grabbed ahold of both her hands, “I am happy for you.” You spoke earnestly.

Sansa however looked conflicted “He says he is something called the three eyed raven.” 

“He sees visions?” You asked, you’d heard tales of such a thing but did not know if it were real. 

“Of the past and the present, it would seem.” She explained, she looked at you with sympathetic eyes, “You should talk to him. Relieve yourself of some of those uncertainties.” You nodded. 

You stood and looked out the window, you saw your men stationed in Winterfell. You felt once more the sting of responsibility. Then once more, I felt the weight of your sorrow. Conflicted with what others must have been saying. The maddened lady of grief. 

“What are they saying?” You asked, you looked behind you towards Sansa, “About me?” You clarified. 

“Stories of your bravery and loyalty towards your men and people have traveled far. They are calling you the relentless lady of the mountain and vale.” She smiled as she stepped towards you. 

“A generous lie.” You said, still convinced otherwise. 

She shook her head, “I’d not lie to you.” She said as she stepped closer, placing her hands on your shoulders, “Let’s dress you. I believe it is time you continued with your journey.”

You smiled, and nodded. You knew your duty. You knew your oath. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You walked along around the high walls of Winterfell. You looked down upon your men who had camped out front of the walls. Helping Northern houses with the preparations of the coming war. You smiled upon the Knights, you felt pride in them. You were not a northerner and yet still, you could feel the North's appreciation of your mens labors. 

“You’re a woman now.” You heard from behind you. As you turned around you saw Arya. She stood taller than the last time you'd seen her. Dressed in black leather and fur. 

You smiled, as you approached her, “I could say the same to you. Though you look more like a knight. It suits you.” You placed her hands on her shoulders, then ran them down to her hands. 

“Thank you.” She smiled and nodded. 

“I often wondered on you. How you were and what you were doing.” You spoke softly as your eyes took her in. Still surprised by how much she’d grown since you’d last seen her.

“If I was dead?” She asked bluntly, 

You stifled a laugh, “No. No, I knew you and your needle would survive. You’ve a brave heart.” You said as you looked at her sword.

“As do you.” She said as she removed her sword, handing it to you. You took it in hand and examined it. “Only a brave heart could love a Hound.” She said as you looked at it. Your eyes darted from the blade back to her,  

“Did Sansa tell you this?” You questioned her with narrow eyes.

She grinned as she shook her head, “No. He did.” You looked at her with interest as you handed her sword back to her. She put her sword back in its sheath “He took from the brotherhood. To sell me off to my mother and brother, then to aunt Lyssa. Though I suspect it was simply a ploy to get to you… I see it now.” She said as though she were proud of her observation. 

You looked down, “What did he say?” You asked, almost embarrassed to ask it. 

“He didn’t go on about it. Only that he failed you, and he cared for you.” 

“Were you there when he died?”

Her ever present grin faded, “I left him there.” 

You looked down, “It has taken a lot within me to hold my own bias aside. I understand he could be… abrasive. Hard for others to understand.” 

Arya felt herself feel a slight tinge of guilt, “He fought for me harder than I’d ever seen anyone fight.” She said, attempting to comfort you, “I didn’t like him. But I can respect that.” She nodded, you smiled softly. 

“You cannot tell anyone.” You commanded but it was practically a plea as you held onto her hand. 

“I won’t.” She shook her head. 

“I am so happy to see you.” You said with a smile, finally taking in the fact she was here. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Later in the courtyard you found Bran under the tree. You remembered what Sansa had said to you. You decided to see for yourself.

“Bran,” You announced your presence as you walked closer to him.

Bran looked over to you, “Cousin.” he stated stoically. 

You smiled at him, “How you’ve grown. You’re a man now.” 

“Almost.” He stated, again without emotion. 

You sighed uncomfortably. Unsure of how or if you could comfort him. So you decided not to. “Sansa tells me you called yourself the three eyed raven.”

“I am.” He stated confidently. 

You sat beside him, you smiled as you recounted a memory “I’d only heard stories of it, when I was a child. The ladies would tell me of it. Threaten that the three eyed raven would know if I were lying.” You looked at Bran, 

“I would.” He stated plainly. 

Your eyes narrowed in curiosity “Prove it.” you nearly whispered, 

You looked upon you for a moment, “You were with child. Once.” Your blood ran cold. You stared at him with shocked and horrified eyes. “Forced to drink a tea to end it. You wore a blue velvet robe, it had silver flowers embroidered on the sleeves.” He spoke emotionlessly.

“I was?” You asked, your voice wavered as you ignored the rest of his statement. You need not hear anything more. 

He nodded slowly “You were.”

You swallowed any emotion that rose. “Thank you.” You nodded. Now fully convinced in his ability, you knew what you had to ask him. “I need to know of my father.”

He looked at you, as if he was surprised you asked. “Littlefinger conspired with your aunt Lyssa to poison and kill your father. But you already knew that.”

You let out a huff, fighting tears, “I did.” you said softly.

“I’m sorry for what's happened to you.” He said earnestly,

“As I am for you.” You said mournfully.

He shook his head, “Don’t be. Or I’d not be what I am now.” You looked at him with concern, and confusion. But you soon understood what he meant. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Sandor and Jon’s mission was a success. However it did have its losses. Daenerys Had lost a dragon and Sandor had lost Thoros. It was hard but they captured the Wright as intended. 

Sandor traveled with Jon to be sure his mission was completed and your cousin arrived safely. Soon enough he would be returning to Winterfell. 

At the front of the ship Jon and Tyrion stood as they looked upon Kings Landing approaching in the distance. 

“How many people live there?” Jon Asked,

“A million give or take.” Tyrion stated coldly.

“That’s more people than the entire North, crammed into that. Who would want to live that way?” Jon asked in disbelief.

“There's more work in the city. And the brothels are far superior.” Tyrion said as he scanned the other ships that had arrived for the meeting. He saw an Arryn ship in the distance. “I see Littlefinger has arrived.”

Jon shook his head, “That ship sails for Lady Arryn.” Tyrion's uncaring demeanor dropped, “The colors are inverted, it’s her claims support.” Jon stated.

“So the stories were true?” Tyrion takes a step closer to the edge of the ship to get a better look.

“Aye.” Jon said, he looked at Tyrion looking off at your ship longingly “You were betrothed to each other?” He asked, uncomfortably.

“We were.” Tyrion stated stoically, 

“You loved her?” Jon questioned.

“Might have.” Tyrion said, though he knew he did.

Jon huffed, “You and the rest of the men on this ship it would seem.” 

Tyrion, not knowing what he meant, looked behind him at Tormund and Sandor who looked off at your ship longing just as he was. Though all three would be equally disappointed to find out you sent a Knight to represent you rather than appear yourself. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

When in KingsLanding Sandor was in charge of transporting the Wright.

A Lannister Guard approached Sandor,

“What's in there?” The Guard questioned,

Sandor looked back at the man, surprised someone was questioning him, “Fuck off.” He said annoyingly. 

Sandor then saw a tall blonde woman, the very one that almost killed him. 

Brienne approached him as they walked, 

“Thought you were dead.” She stated bluntly,

“Not yet. You came pretty close.” He acknowledged her ability.

“I was only trying to protect her.” Brienne tried to defend herself.

“You and me both.” Sandor sighed, 

“She’s alive.” Brienne said, Sandor looking at her in surprise, “Arya.”

“Where?” He asked looking ahead, pretending not to care.

“Winterfell.”

“Who’s protecting her if you're here?” He questioned, 

“The only one who needs protecting is the one that gets in her way.” She said with a smirk, shared by Sandor at the thought. Brienne then looked at Sandor once again, “As the same goes with Lady (Y/N).” He looked at her with surprise, “She’s scowled at me ever since she heard I killed you. I assumed it meant something, but I was right.” She sighed.

Sandor looked away trying to remain composed, “She alright?” He questioned, 

“No. Though you don’t get names like (Y/N), the brave, the unrelenting, the unconquerable, or the Inured without suffering a great deal.” Brienne said, Sandor felt guilt wash over him again,

“What happened?” Sandor asked, still looking ahead. 

“You’ll have to ask her.” Breinne said, knowing that soon he and you would meet again. 

Sandor looked at her once more and smiled.

That was until the Lannister guards approached Sandor and the Box the Wright remained in.

“Anyone touches it, I’ll kill you first.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You looked out of your chamber window to see Jon Snow and his armies returning. You tried to look for Ser Leon through a voice behind you interrupted your attempt to do so.

“My Lady,” You turned around to see another knight of the Vale, you smiled and nodded for him to continue, “I am to announce the arrival of Jon Snow and Daenerys Stormborn.” He said, 

“Where is Lady Sansa?” You asked, knowing she’d not be happy with the arrival of an outsider. 

“Already waiting at the gates, my Lady.” He said,

“We shall join her.” You said as you continued on through the door, on your way to join your cousin.

The Knight nodded, “Yes, my Lady.” He said as he followed you.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

You saw Sansa alongside Bran waiting at the Gates. You approached her, 

“You don’t look happy.” You said as you locked your arm around hers. 

She smiled slightly at you, “Neither do you.” 

You shrugged, “I am hard to please, I suppose.” You looked out at the crowds of men entering Winterfell, “But your brother has returned with a large army for your people. That should please you.” You said as you rubbed her arm with your hand. 

She sighed, “He returned with a new Queen, one I don’t know and do not trust. One who wishes to rule this very Kingdom.” She scoffed. 

You shrugged again, “Yes, well I suppose that is problematic.” You said as two large dragons flew overhead. 

You’d never seen anything so large and magnificent take to the sky. You smiled as you watched the three dragons fly with one another through the sky. 

“Hard to please?” Sansa said looking at how taken you were by the sight. 

“I’ve never seen one before, much less two. You must admit it is extraordinary.” You said without looking at her, still looking at the dragons in the sky. You finally looked at her, “A little.” you shrugged, 

“A clear presentation of her power.” She said irritated. 

“Well… If you got it…” You attempted to reason but she gave you a scowl that made you stop. “Apologies.” You said. As you saw your cousin ride into Winterfell, you felt it was not your place to welcome an outsider into Winterfell. Especially since you yourself were outside. “I’ll leave you to make a proper introduction.” You smiled at her, trying to get her to lighten up. 

As you walked back into the castle you heard a familiar voice speak, 

“(Y/N)?” Tyrion spoke, “Or, do you prefer Lady of the Vale, now?” He breathed a chuckle but he was fighting back heartbreaking emotion.  

You felt the guilt you felt long ago surge again, “Tyrion. Or do you prefer Hand of the Queen?” You jested in return. 

He took a step towards you, “It would seem you are acting as hand to the Queen of the north said by some.”

You shook your head, “We are kin… we are close. But that is all.” 

“Two women betrothed to me who ran away.” He jested, self deprecatingly. 

“Don’t feel too bad about it. We both suffered for it.” You said earnestly.

He shook his head, “I did not want you to suffer. I never did.” 

“I know. I did suffer though. I still am.” You said quietly. 

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to stay here.” He said walking closer to you.

“Where would I go?” You asked, as if his idea were ridiculous. His eyes however told a different story. You could see the emotion, the longing, “No.” You said recoiling from him. 

He followed you, “I have loved you since I first saw you.” He pleaded

“Please don’t.” You winced at the word ‘love’.

He grabbed your hand, “I have to know where you went, and why.” 

You huffed, not wanting to do this. Not wanting to have this conversation. But knowing that the truth would hurt him, it would also set him free. “I left with Sandor Clegane. He took me with the intention of delivering me to my aunt Catelyn Stark.” You said bluntly.

“Why would he take you?” 

“You know why.” You said with furrowed brows, he then looked down, you could see the pain that he felt wash over his face. You sighed “I’m sorry. I am, I tried to love you in the way you wanted, the way that was demanded of me by duty and I couldn’t. I have no doubt that you would have been a doubting and loyal husband. And maybe if we were married I would have found peace. But when he asked me to leave with him I couldn’t help it, I loved him. I never felt that way for anyone.” You walked towards him once more, “You were a dear friend to me.” You held his hand, “Very dear, you gave me consideration no else did.” 

“I would have given you everything- anything.” You couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad. Perhaps both. 

“I can get it myself.” You said. Never willing to ever use your hand as a bargaining chip for land or armies again. 

“That is your way, I suppose. The reason I-“ 

You interrupted him before he could say he loved you once more, “You wouldn’t want me. You wouldn’t, not really. I am pigheaded and my ambitions are large. We would argue all the time, every time we spoke in Kings Landing it was a debate. Neither of us would be happy.” You blurted out. Just wishing he would see it your way.  

“Anything more?” He asked pained, 

“No.” You said. He began to walk away, “Except that-” You called out, making him turn around towards you. He nodded wanting to hear what you had to say. You took a breath, “With him gone, Tyrion… I do not believe I will ever wed. Ever find love truly. I don’t believe I will ever carry a child in me, and I don’t believe I will ever be happy.” You shook your head. 

He smiled, though clearly upset. “I think you are very wrong about that. I think you will see that very soon. And I will watch.” His smile faded and he walked away. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Later that day Podrick walked with you on the high walls of Winterfell. You and he were tasked by Lady Sansa to take further inventory of the new armies for the coming war. As you walked along the wall you heard a loud Caw! Of a Falcon. You looked to the sky and saw Lenaera. You grabbed an armored glove that laid against other supplies by the wall. She landed on your gloved hand. She fluttered her wings happily and you smiled as you pet her feathers on her head. 

By chance you peered down at the courtyard to see a tall and large man staring at you. A man who thought was dead. 

“Podrick?” You said, your eyes wide.

“Yes, my Lady?” Podrick asked,

“Am I dead?” You asked sincerely, 

“N-no, My Lady.” Podrick responded concernedly 

“Dreaming?” You asked again, bluntly. 

“No, My Lady.” Podrick again responded with concern, 

“You told me the Hound was dead.” You said, Podrick looked down to where you looked and saw the man standing there. Soon his eyes went wide as well. 

“I thought he was.” He said shocked. 

“Take Laenera.” You said placing her on his arm.

“Yes, my Lady-” He said before Lenaera’s talons dug into his leather sleeves, “Ah!” He hissed as you dropped the glove and ran into the castle. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

You gathered your skirts up as you made hast down the stairs within the castle. As you were running down the hall, you saw a tall and large man running down the same hall from the opposite end. You both stopped at the same time, as if the sight of the other paralyzed the other. You felt like you were looking at a ghost of the man you loved. Your hands released your skirts as you let out a sharp and painful breath. 

He stared at you, his eyes filled with emotion, “That fucking birds yours?” 

You didn’t respond, still in shock by the man before you. Sandors demeanor calmed, became more earnest, “I heard you were here. Didn’t want to let myself believe it. ‘Case it were horse shit.” He said taking some steps towards you, though he stopped when he saw the tears in your eyes well.

You let out another curt breathe as you held in your tears, a wave of emotion crashed against your form as you heard his voice for the first time in so long. “I heard you were dead.” You said walking closer to him, “I thought you were dead.” A tear fell from your eye, stepping closer “I believed you were dead.” You stopped, your emotion taking hold of you, “You were dead, I-I-” You shook your head unable to understand. 

Sandor stepped towards you, closing the space that remained, “I’m not.” He held your face in his hands, you noticed they were rougher than before. “I’m here.” He said gentler than you were used to. You placed your hands on top of his that held your face. “I’m not leaving.” He continued to comfort you. 

It took you a moment to realize you were somewhat out in the open. Any Lady or Lord could walk down the hall the two of you stood there. You weren’t used to that. Being in the open with your affection. He would sneak into your chambers in the early hours of the morn or the late hours of the night. Never this. But, there were no more Lannisters, no more Littlefinger, no more Bolton, there was no other person or house that would threaten your status or standing. No one to hold your virtue over your head. So, you did not care.

“You needed me.” He said assertively as if he were angry with himself.

He wiped the tear from your cheek with his thumb, You blinked hard. Swallowing your emotions and taking a breath. Grounding yourself. You nodded, “I did. But I had myself.” You placed a hand on his cheek, “But, I still need you.” You nearly whispered, You looked around for a moment, the hall was still empty but for how long? You looked to your side and noticed you and he were coincidently standing beside the door to your chambers. You held onto his wrist with one of your hands, you pulled him along. “Come inside and be alone with me.” You said in a quiet voice what some might think of a seductive voice. 

As you entered your chambers, he closed your door, “Lock it.” You said not realizing how bold it seemed, “Many forget to knock on my door.” You explained as you took a pitcher of water from a table by your door, walking over to the fireplace and extinguishing the fire, to make him more comfortable. 

“I can make sure they don’t forget.” He said with a possessive and protective tone. 

You missed it, you hadn’t heard it in so long. You walked with haste towards him, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders. He in return, wrapped his thick arms around you. He lifted you up as your lips met. 

They met for the first time in so long. Your lips, as well as his, were cold from the northern air. But the heat from his tongue warmed you. 

“Are you staying?” You asked breathlessly as you pulled away from his kiss. You searched his eyes, with your own. You missed his gaze dearly.

He nodded, breathless, “With you.” He said, putting you down, “I’ll go where you go.” He vowed.

“I’ve never seen you without armor.” You smiled looking over him as your hands ran over the leather top he wore. 

“You have.” He said candidly

Your gazes blinked up to his, “I mean… real clothing.” You said holding back a laugh, “You look handsome.” You said earnestly.

“Fuck off.” He said dismissively, looking away from you, assuming you were lying. 

You placed a hand on his scarred cheek. Redirecting his gaze back towards you. His eyes looked into yours seeing that you were honest “I missed you.” You said almost dreamily with an absent minded smile as you gazed upon the face you thought you’d never see again. Your smile faded a bit, you shook your head, “I can’t begin to… explain how terrible it was.” 

He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked down. “I know.” He was disappointed in himself, “I thought of you.” He said looking back into your eyes, “A lot.” He admitted.

As you gazed into his soft eyes, you knew he should know. He should know about the babe. He should know the things LittleFinger did. The kiss he forced on you. He should know of Ramsay, he should know of your journey. “There’s things I should tell you.” You said almost shamefully.

Sandors eyes hardened, “You fuck that ginger?” He questioned, 

“Gods no!” You said with disgust, you answered quickly, surprised by the question. “His attempts at wooing me have grown constant and boring.” You rolled your eyes, then settled your gaze on him once again “I’d only ever thought of one man.” Your tone is softer.

“He said he wants make fucking babies with you.” He sneered, not angry at you but at the man. He loved you like he loved no one, and he knew he was not the only one.

“You sound jealous.” You said teasingly.

“I am.” He said with a snarl. 

“You needn’t be.” You said in a whisper into his lips as you kissed him again. “Let me look at you.” You said running your hands from his face, down to his chest, “you’ve let your beard go.” You said in a melancholy tone. 

All the time that had passed truly had gotten away from Sandor. It was then that the emotion hit him. Sandor dropped to his knees. Placed his hands against the small of you back, pushing you forward as he rested his head against your belly. 

he was desperate, 

you’d never seen him like this. You held his head in your hands, running your fingers through his hair. 

“It’s alright.” You whispered, you understood how he was feeling. Feeling that he failed you.

“It’s not.” he whispered back. 

“We can start again.” You said as you petted his hair,  “We could be together, truly, never hiding.” You said like you were dreaming of it right then and there. 

He hummed against your stomach, “I’m not a man of honor.” He said as though he were shameful of himself.

“Men of honor die all the same, I’d rather be with you.” You spoke softly as your hands sweetly ran through his hair, and your other rubbed circles against his back, “Do you not wish for me to be your wife?” You asked, scared for the answer, but needing it all the same.

He shook his head, “I wish it for me, not for you.”

You shook your head and huffed, “Look at us. this isn’t wrong. how could something that feels so good be wrong? You are no longer a piece on a board in Kings Landing. Nor am I. I don’t know about you but I refuse to be one again. Let me be yours and be mine.” You felt silly for  opening yourself up like this, in a way you’d never had before. But it was something you had to do. You couldn’t allow for the same cycle you and he fell into King's Landing to continue. “When you were gone, I went to war and felt no fear. No fear because if I died I would see you. I’d be with you again. I cannot go back to wishing for moments with you. I wish for a life with you because I love you and I need you. If you love me then don’t leave me again.” You pleaded softly.

He was silenced for a moment, but then, his hands traveled tighter around your back. He looked up at you, “Be my wife.” He pleaded, his love seeping through his gruff tone.

“Yes.” You said, sweetly. You let out a small gasp as you felt his rough, large hand trail up your leg, “Yes,” you whispered to him, his eyes remaining connected to yours, his hand trailed up to your inner thigh, “Yes… yes” You continued to whispered against his movements, his fingers sneaking their way under your small clothes and toying with your sex “Yes…yes…yes-“ your whispers becoming louder, more breathless and closer to a whine. You ran fingers from his hair to his scarred cheek, you carassed it as you moaned, “My husband-Ah!” you were cut off as his finger slid inside of you, forcing a moan out of you. You grasped his scarred face harder as he did so, 

“Say it again.” He rasped as he pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt.

You caught your breath as he hiked your skirts up and over his head, You could feel his beard scratching at your inner thighs, “My husban-nnnd” your voice hitched and drawn out into a moan as you felt his breathe graze across your cunt, soon feeling the heat of his tongue as it lapped up your sweetness. He sucked on your clit as his fingers found your sweet spot, pushing against your velvet walls. It had been so long since you felt someone know your body so well, and he didn't forget a thing about it. You felt the tightness in your belly finally release. As you reached your peak you cried out. Sandor drank you in groaning and fucking his fingers even deeper into you. “Sandor,” you whined, “I need, I need more.” You said with furrowed brows as you gripped onto his head beneath your skirts.

As he stood, his mouth crashed into yours. You could taste your own release on his lips.  His kiss was desperate, and passionate. Making up for all the times he wished he could have done it. His hands roamed your body erratically and roughly. 

He began to kiss down your jaw and neck, “I’ve missed your tongue.” you said breathlessly with a smirk and heavy eyes. 

He licked up from your neck to your ear, making you moan. “Let me see you.” He spoke in your ear as he untied the back of your dress, though his large hands could hardly figure out the fragile ties.

You felt a sting of insecurity. 

You looked down, as your hands aided Sandor in untying your gown. He continued to kiss and lick at your body slowly as more and more of your skin was revealed. Until you were left in your small clothes. Your scars showed, the one on your thigh, the one on your forearm, and even others that had come with time and war. Sandors eyes trailed over you, longingly. 

“You don’t have to look.” You said as you looked down, somewhat ashamed of the scars you had earned valiantly. “I know I hurt to look at.” 

Sandor stepped towards you, his eyes confused and bewildered. “Fuck are you on about? Feel me.” He said with furrowed brows. You looked confused for a moment until your hand trailed down from his stomach to his mounting bulge, he let out a groan. He hadn’t felt your touch in so long, and you hadn’t felt a man's body in so long, or wanted to. Your eyes snapped from his hardening, hot, and throbbing bulge that your hand caressed, to his gaze. Deeply lustful and full of longing. “Does that feel like you hurt to look at.” He asked as his hand grasped your jaw. His lips connected to your own, his facial hair tickled in a familiar and delightful way. As your mouths danced together you felt his tongue aching for the warmth of yours. To which you happily complied. You could taste yourself on his tongue, it made you all the more wet. As you did he pulled off your small clothes, practically ripping them off. 

He stood there looking at your naked body, he let out a groan and you rubbed his hardened cock through his pants again.

“You’re not a woman, take your own clothes off.” You said assertively as you brushed past him laying down on your bed. He let out a dry chuckle as he obeyed your command. 

You laid on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched him. You bent one of your legs bringing your knee close to your chest as you pressed your slick thighs together.  

He climbed on top of you. Kissing you once more. Passionately, slowly. Taking in the pleasure of your soft and plush lips, relishing in the taste that he missed so deeply.  His tongue met yours in tandem as his hands ran over your body erratically. As if he couldn’t believe you were underneath him again, he didn’t know where to start with you but he knew how much he wanted all of it. His attention was soon directed to your breasts. He’d missed them dearly. Thought of them as he worked himself in the late hours of the night. 

He slid down and took them in his mouth. Sucking at your breasts, biting them in just the way you liked. As he did you wrapped your legs around his hard back, and rocked your hips against his hard stomach, attempting to soothe the growing ache in your core. 

The sounds of your moans created made him even harder than could bare “I can’t wait anymore, I want my woman. My wife.” His voice was dark and deep.

You nodded as he kissed your lips, 

You kissed passionately, your lips swollen and wanting. As your lips met, and your tongues found one another again. You felt the head of his cock, already leaking, begin to press against your entrance. As he pushed in you felt the burn of the stretch. You  almost forgot how large he was. You gasped and winced, Sandor stopped himself from moving for a moment, looking at you to see if you were alright.

You gripped onto his shoulder digging your nails into him, “It’s been a long time.” You explained. 

He nodded as he brushed your hair out of your face, “Too fucking long.” He said, holding back a moan from the pure euphoria of your cunt.

“You haven't taken another?” You asked breathlessly, possibly not the best time. 

He shook his head, and in return you held his face and kissed him deeply. “I want all of it.” You whispered into his ear. 

He complied, happily. Pushing his cock into your until he was completely inside of you. 

You muffled your moans into his neck as you clung onto his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his back. “Fuck!” He barked, “Gods you’re tight, does it hurt?” He asked. 

It did, it burned, and you were almost overwhelmed. But Gods, it was perfect. You needed it, badly. 

“Husband,” You pleaded into his lips, the words made his cock twitch inside of you, “fuck me.” You whined as you kissed him deeply. 

As he thrusted in and out of you with the built up lust and longing he had inside of him. You bit down on his lip as he moaned out. You threw your head back, unable to hold in your moans any longer. 

He took pleasure in thrusting in you harder to hear you cry out even louder. “Fuck! I missed your cunt, your sweet fucking cunt!” He grunted, he felt you clench around him harder and harder, “Give it to me!” He groaned, “I want my wife to cum.” He grunted through gritted teeth. 

“Yes!” You pleaded as his pace only became more and more furious and erratic, “Ah!” You shouted as you felt yourself release a second time,

“That’s it-” He groaned as he felt your release cover his cock, making it only easier for his cock to slip in and out with ease. It made your cunt even more euphoric, he could hold himself in any longer, 

“I want it inside of me,” You begged breathlessly, 

“Good.” He groaned against your skin, “Cause I want to fill my wife with my seed.” He said through gritted teeth. 

You kissed him deeply as he did just that. He moaned into your mouth as he spilled his hot seed inside of you deeply. Driving you towards another release you didn’t know was there.

After... You laid there, breathing. Trying to catch your breath. Sandor laid there with his head resting against your chest. Listening to your heartbeat. You ran your fingers through his hair. 

You laid there in each other's arms for what felt like a lifetime. But you didn’t want it to end.

Soon Sandor spoke again, “That ginger cunt says you killed a man.” His voice was so gruff and deep it almost startled you after basking in the silence for so long.

“I did.” You said stoically.

“That makes two men you’ve killed.” He said as if he were proud.

“Five.” You corrected, he looked up at you from your chest, “Six if you’re counting the one from the riot.” You said petting his cheek,

“I am.” He said, he looked surprised by you.

“Six then.” You nodded, “Killed four men in the battle. Then I killed Ramsay.” 

“How’d you do it?” He asked, genuinely interested. 

“Ramsay? Hounds.” You smirked, noting the irony. 

Sandor chuckled at it as well, “You’re different now.”

“Is that bad?” You asked, running your fingers down his back comfortingly.

“No.” He shook his head, “None of it would have happened if I was there.” He said as though he were disappointed in himself.

“I know.” You were confident it wouldn’t have. But it did, and it was no one's fault but those who committed the acts against you. 

Sandor took your forearm, looked at the scar, Lyssa left you with. 

“What happened?” He asked protectively, wanting to know who he’d have to kill.

You sighed, “It’ll be a hard thing to hear.” You said sitting up. You wrapped yourself in fur as you laid beside him once more, “You’ll be angry. Furious even. I know because I feel the same way. But this once, just feel the sorrow with me.” You asked him, he nodded. 

And so you did. You told him your story. How you were attacked by Lyssa. How Baelish forced you to end your pregnancy. How he attempted to force himself on you. How he killed your aunt. How Ramsay tormented you. You told him of the Battle, you told him of Ser Cole. You told him everything. 

Sandor was silent for just a moment. Until he sat up “I’ll kill hi-” 

You interrupted his anger as you sat up with him. “No anger. Not here. Not our first night.” You pleaded as you held his face in your hand. Calming him. 

He held onto your wrist, “I will take care of you.” He said earnestly, “I’ll protect you.” He vowed.

“You can’t. No one can.” You shook your head. 

He looked at you. Saddened that you’d no longer believe in that promise. “I will.” He vowed.

You, still, unbelieving, nodded. You leaned towards him, and rested your forehead against his own.  

You didn’t want to love him this much. And he didn’t want to love you this much. And yet here you both were. Your love was formidable, unrelenting, and merciless. There was not a thing in the known world you’d not do for him. And not a thing in this known world that he’d not do for you. 

You had an army and now, you had your man. Now that all left to do was to go and get what you were owed.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

NOTE: It's no use (Y/N) we gotta have it out.  Also you cannot tellll me that mf wouldn’t pull out the “My Wife” card every chance he got like…. That's all. Also got I feel like I am finally free and can write smut again thank god. We are about to have our own version of the royal wedding lmao K love you, xoxo

Bambi

Beloved Tags:

@dontfollowjuststuff @merfic @broadsdrinkwhisky  @vikingswhore0

@the-queen-of-sorrows @eddiesbongwater @not-neverland06  @symonedoesart 

@wyvernnest @bdudette @frosch-thefrog @patrick-hockstutter @vikingswhore0 @drymushroomfics @dream-a-little-nightmare @lavenderbreeze3

[fairytalelover33]

Are Those Tears?

Thorin x Female Reader

Prompt: When Thorin stares death in the face, you both realize your feelings for each other may be a little stronger than friendship.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Some slight blood/gore, mentions of death, Thorin being a softie for once.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing could have prepared you for this journey. No amount of training would have sufficed. The whole company making it this far virtually intact was a miracle within itself. You had all survived attempt after attempt on your lives. It seemed that the odds of completing this journey were in your favor, having escaped each encounter with mere scrapes and bruises.

But this time you might not be so lucky.

The muscles in your arms and core ache, as you cling desperately to the branch of a fallen tree on the edge of a cliff, your legs dangling hundreds of feet above the ground. You can hear the grunts and bellows of your incapacitated comrades, confirming that they are in the same predicament as you. The snarls and howls of the Wargs add to the cacophony, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You realize that the only thing keeping the large predators and their riders from swooping in and slaughtering you all is the blazing fire surrounding the tree you all cling to. Azog the defiler sits astride a white Warg, pacing back and forth in front of the wall of flames separating them from you. You see Azog and his mutt pause in their pacing, the pale orc's scarred face hardening.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

"Thorin, no!" Balin exclaims quietly. You lift your head as a large boot plants onto the tree trunk next to you. The figure makes his way past, through the flames, towards the pale orc. The long dark hair, peppered with streaks of grey, the broad shoulders, the determined stride. It was unmistakably Thorin.

No.

A sudden wave of desperation crashes over you, making your stomach turn. You just want to reach out and grab him, yank him back. You want to scream, to beg, to yell at him to just turn around. Your breathing becomes ragged, and one quiet word manages to claw its way out of your throat, repeating over and over under your breath, like a prayer waiting to be answered.

"No. No. No. No." Thorin's steps do not falter, his sword glinting in the light of the blazing inferno that lines his path. It feels as though the world is moving in slow motion as Thorin charges the pale orc, armed with his sword and his shield. His Oaken Shield. How life has a funny way of coming full circle. Azog the defiler guides his pale furred Warg in a mighty leap from the boulder he had been perched upon.

The blow dealt to Thorin as the white Warg collides with him in mid-air snaps you back to reality with a rush of dread. The force of the beasts bodyweight stops Thorin in his tracks, sending him crashing to earth. Reality sets in as you hear the rest of the company fighting the pull of gravity, straining to hold on to the strand of life that is this fallen tree.

Azog wheels his pale beast around, charging at Thorin once more, and sending a bone rattling blow of his mace to the dwarf's chest, knocking him back to the ground. A pang hits you directly in your heart, and flows through your bloodstream, some desperate feeling you can't quite place seeping into your very bones. You don't understand the feeling well enough to give it a name. All you know is that it gives you enough strength to muscle yourself up with a strangled cry, huffing and gritting your teeth as you clamber up to the trunk of the tree. You can barely feel the heat that burns the palms of your hands, red and raw from clinging to the rough bark of the tree branch.

The Hobbit, Bilbo, seems to have the same rush of bravery that you do, and you see his small form scramble up to the trunk of the tree, pausing to take one deep breath to right his turbulent mind before charging into the fray, armed with his little elvish knife.

The wretched hound of hell clamps its jaws around Thorin. The sickening sound of Thorin's ribs cracking reaches your ears, making your head swim. You can feel yourself call out his name in agony, but it sounds like someone else's voice is coming from your mouth as you stumble a few steps along the fallen tree. You right yourself in time to see the mutt toss Thorin like a farm dog tosses a snake, his form crashing onto a patch of hard rock on the hillside.

"(Y/N)!" Balin shouts as you start hauling it to where Thorin lays, hot on Bilbo's heels. "No, Lass! It's too dangerous!" No response comes from your lips, your mouth set in a grimace as you have a clear view out to where one of the Defilers minions is preparing to behead Thorin. He lies pinned upon the rocky ground, his breathing ragged, teeth clenched in defiance as he grasps around desperately for his sword.

You quickly overtake Bilbo, and with a muffled grunt you stiffen your shoulders, tackling the Orc with the force of your body weight, bowling it over. You can hear Azog's roar of dissent as you stop the orcs deadly blow mid swing. A sharp pain explodes like a lightning strike in your right shoulder, making you cry out. As you and the orc tumble away from Thorin, the filthy monster rolls atop you with a snarl, pinning you down. You struggle futilely beneath it, flailing like a madman, grasping for something, anything to protect yourself, and finding nothing. The orc raises its armored fist, pulling back to deliver a skull crushing blow.

Suddenly, the orc shrieks, blood spewing from its mouth, spraying you in the face. It falls to the side, revealing a fiery eyed Bilbo, delivering continuous blows with his small, but mighty blade. You gasp for air, viciously wiping your face with the sleeve of your tunic and scrambling away.

You crawl to the barely conscious form of Thorin, not caring about the rocks and twigs scraping your skin through the thin fabric of your clothing. Ignoring the shooting pain in your shoulder, you pull yourself up to your knees, cradling his head in your lap. His half-lidded gaze holds yours for a moment, as if trying to see into your very soul. A thin sheen of sweat coats his face as he murmurs a single word, before slipping into the warm embrace of unconsciousness.

"(Y/N)..." Thorin breathes out softly. If you had not been watching his lips move you would have assumed you imagined it. His eyes flicker shut, his ragged gasps slowing to shallow breaths. Tears well up in your eyes as you brush some of his sweat drenched hair from his regal face.

"Just hold on. Please." You whimper helplessly, gazing down at him. You look up to see the heart wrenching sight of Bilbo all alone, standing his ground as the monsters descend upon you, his hands shaking as he holds his sword at the ready. The hobbit plants his feet, swinging his sword wildly around in an attempt to intimidate the foes before him. Sparks fly from the burning portion of forest that surrounds you, and you feel a deep sadness, wondering if this is truly the end of your adventure.

You take another moment to gaze down at Thorin. You trace his face with your eyes, trying to memorize every feature and contour. Running your thumb over his cheekbone in a way you would have never been brave enough to do before, a sigh escapes your lips. With a shaky breath, you lean down, hesitating for a moment before pressing a feather soft kiss to his forehead, holding back the tears that threaten to spill. Wishing more than anything that you had been brave enough to tell him how you feel, you now vow to not go down a weeping, helpless mess. You hold back your tears, forcing yourself to stare defiantly back at the group of vicious carnivores that approach the three of you.

One of the Wargs snaps its head to the side, sniffing the air. A sudden battle cry makes you start, and you whip your gaze in the direction of the commotion. Your spirit lifts as the unmistakable figures of Fili and Kili come charging in from a gap in the flames, tailed closely by Dwalin. They attack the Wargs and their riders swiftly, slicing and hacking with their weapons. You try to get up to help, but your energy is sapped from wrestling the Orc. You opt to be a close-range protector to Thorin, crouching in front of him, your fingers wrapping around the hilt of his sword that you spotted lying a few feet away.

A vicious noise that you didn't know you were capable of making tears its way through your throat as a Warg stalks toward Thorin with a snarl. You grip the hilt of the sword tighter, your knuckles white as you prepare to fight tooth and nail to protect Thorin. You shift on your feet as you crouch low, poised to spring up and drive the blade straight through the roof of the beasts' mouth and into its brain.

Before you get the chance, a giant flurry of wind and feathers scoops up the Warg, the beast yelping as it is hurled unceremoniously from the cliffside. You scramble back slightly, your mouth falling open as you look to the sky in disbelief and slight fear.

Eagles bigger than you have ever seen circle the cliffs edge, swooping in to snatch and dispose of the Wargs and their riders. Some of the mighty birds use the wind from their wings to fan the flames that burn the forest, singeing a group of mutts. You feel a moment of peace, but it doesn't last long. Your eyes widen slightly, terror etching your face as one of the birds makes a beeline for you.

"Wait. Wait! WAIT!" You shriek, as the giant bird envelops you in its claws. The fur of Thorin's jacket, which you had been holding on to, slips from your grasp as the creature tosses you off the edge of the cliff. You tumble through the air, screaming bloody murder, before landing with a thud on the back of another eagle, knocking the wind out of you slightly. You curse under your breath as you gasp for air, trying to regain your bearings. Your eyes scan around, realizing that every member of the company was either caged safely in the claws of one of the Avians, or sat comfortably atop one.

You hear a rage filled roar in the distance as the eagles whisk you all away. You feel a pit in your stomach, realizing that Azog is still alive, and you know that he will never stop hunting down the line of Durin. Your stomach drops as your worried mind flickers back to Thorin. You try to spot him, your eyes scanning each of the birds. The morning sun makes it nearly impossible, partially blinding you. You tuck your face into the soft feathers you sit upon, tears pricking your eyes as you pray the eagles will land soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Groggily lifting your bruised and battered head, you scan around, realizing the eagles are making their descent. They all circle slowly down, landing atop a rocky spire, where you can see for miles around. Your eagle lands last, and your heart drops as you see Thorin lying still upon the flat ground, the company standing around him. You slide down from the back of the eagle, crumpling slightly as your legs hit the ground. Fili and Kili appear at your side almost instantly, supporting you under your arms as you try to regain your balance. You wince as Kili bumps your shoulder, hissing through your teeth.

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" Kili asks in concern, releasing your arm slightly.

"Yes, I just... never mind me." You tear your eyes away from Thorin, finding Bilbo a few feet away. You pull away from the brothers, limping over to hug Bilbo. "Thank you." You whisper, pulling back and meeting Bilbo's gaze. He nods, and nothing else needs to be said. Bilbo is smart enough to be able to read the emotion behind your eyes. Your hand rests on his shoulder, and you both smile softly before you turn your gaze back to Thorin.

Gandalf kneels beside Thorin, his hand hovering over his face as he murmurs some spell over his unconscious form. You can feel the tears of desperation welling up in your eyes as you look on helplessly, silently begging whatever God is listening to please, let him live. You can feel yourself shaking as the company waits with bated breath. Then, his eyes finally flutter open, the dwarf drawing a deep breath.

Hot tears fall from your eyes, and you don't bother to stop them. You feel as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. He lives. He clambers to his feet, aided by Dwalin and Kili. He shakes them off, the angry look on his face surprising you all. He locks eyes with you, before flickering his gaze to Bilbo.

"You two." Thorin says in an accusing tone, glaring at the both of you. A confused look crosses your face, the rest of the company looking on.

"What were you doing?" Thorin snaps. "You nearly got yourselves killed!" Your eyes lock onto his, and you don't bother wiping the tears from your face as you stand bewildered.

"Did I not say that you would be a burden?" Thorin hisses, stalking towards you. "That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?" You hold his gaze, teary eyed as he looks between yourself and Bilbo, seemingly berating you. He pauses for a moment, the rest of the company sharing glances in disbelief.

Emotion suddenly takes over Thorin's face. "I have never been so wrong, in all my life." He steps forward, embracing Bilbo, patting him on the back. You could almost laugh at the look of shock on Bilbo's face as he tentatively returns his hug. Thorin pulls back, meeting Bilbos eyes with an apologetic look. "I am sorry I doubted you."

Thorin's eyes turn to you, his face softening as he looks at your tear-stained face. He takes the few steps to close the distance between you. The company becomes rather quiet as he silently approaches, his eyes never leaving your face. He stops in front of you, pausing, and you sniffle slightly, looking down at your feet, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Your heart stops as his rough hand rises to your face, gently tilting your chin up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he wipes away a fresh tear.

"Are those tears, Amrâlimê?" Thorin murmurs, making your heart skip a beat. He brings his other hand to your face, wiping away the rest of your tears, even as your eyes well up more. "No more of those." He says quietly, leaning forward and nuzzling his nose against yours gently, before pulling back to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" He murmurs, his eyes scanning your form. His hand still cupping your jaw gently. You shake your head, your eyes locked on his. Kili speaks up at your lie, knowing you are indeed hurt.

"She hurt her right shoulder." Kili says, before falling silent with an apologetic look. You glare at him, sighing in defeat as Thorin calls over Oin to take a look at your shoulder.

"What about you? You definitely need to be checked out, Thorin." You say sternly as thorin guides you to sit on a rock a few feet away. A small smile graces his face.

"I appreciate your concern. But you come first." He says softly, making you blush profusely. He gives a nod to Oin before stepping away to speak with Gandalf. Fili and Kili make their way over to you, giving each other a knowing look. You narrow your eyes at them before tugging on Kili's sleeve, making him kneel down to your level on the hard ground as Oin examines your shoulder.

"Kili, what does... Amrâlimê mean?" You ask inquisitively, as you know minimal Khuzdul. The brothers share another look, smiling at each other.

"You will find out in time." Kili says cryptically, standing up with a grin after giving you a pat on the back. You give him an exasperated look, cursing as Oin adjusts your shoulder. The brothers turn away with smirks plastering their faces, leaving you to ponder what Thorin could possibly have said.

[welcomingdisaster]

Later Celebrimbor will remember this: the cat leaps up from her place in the windowsill and scampers up, into the attic above the forge, as though spooked by the hunters and their hounds. The dog, too, rises from the his spot by the fireplace and comes to stand in front of Celebrimbor's knees, growling lowly then barking, the sound resonating in the hollow walls.

He is a huge dappled-brown dog, named Tinu for a startling white spot in the center of his forehead. Fourteen years ago he was gifted to Celebrimbor by the dwarves of Khazad-Dum, for he is among the rare breed of mine-dogs that venture deep beneath the earth, and bark only to warn of landslides and of the ill black creatures that live where no light touches.

For a moment Celebrimbor imagines the ceiling might fall in. Then he shakes himself out of it and goes to quiet the dog. "Tinu," he says, "Tinu, you have lost your mind in your old age. Tinu! Oh, I beg you to pay him no mind, lord. He is never like this."

And the dog barks, and barks, and barks.

[thecatchat]

Ace the bat hound becomes a ghost dog because he's such a good boy and dedicated to justice. Inspired off of this post here.

But, instead of being found out by Danny, it's the batfam's usual mystic contacts, like Constantine, that discover and reunite Ace and the Bats. Constantine muttering about how annoyingly resilient the particular brand of ghost is. From the infinite realms, Ghosts from there are a headache and a half to get rid of but portals, information, and really anything about it is far and few between since no one's been able to get into contact since some fight a couple centuries ago (Dark being sealed away). Justice Leauge Dark promises to let the family know if they hear anything or find any relevant information about the Infinite Realms, but since literally nothing has been heard from them in so long, no one really knows anything off the top of their head about it.

While Ace is technically supposed to be hidden away at home, he ends up sneaking along one day to help deal with Joker after the clown kidnaps Nightwing and/or Robin (Damian). The photos and videos of the event are blurry and smudged, but word of mouth gets around, and soon, the entirety of Gotham is celebrating the return of Bat Hound the Ghost, the very good boy back from the grave.

Meanwhile, things are going great for the family, just having Ace back makes everyone feel just a bit better (because Ace is a full ghost with a core and is helping to filter the currupt ectoplasm called Lazarus Water with physical touch). Jason is over more often and enjoys flopping on the couch with Ace for a quick snooze, Dick is over the moon to fight with Ace by his side again, Damian makes sure Ace is properly introduced to the rest of the animals that live at the mansion, Tim actually falls asleep semi-regularly now after Ace starts bothering him about being awake, and everyone else is reaping the benefits of having a bat trained dog that seems to be able to sniff out when they need a dog to pet.

Then these guys in white show up.

Ace had seemingly been on edge all night and when it was time to turn in for the night and let Signal come out for the day, Ace follows along, not listening to any command to stay home. Some of the others stay ready in the cave but they let Signal and Ace go out with the promise to call the moment something big happens.

Now, up until then, Ace's powers had been tallied up to: intangibility, invisibility, and occasional hovering/heightened jump. Every other exercise responded out as normal dog (except for the whole being dead thing). Maybe slightly higher emotional intelligence, but some dogs are just Like That. Through some tests, they do find that Ace has a new found hatred of Lazarus Water, but they don't find any obvious weakness that isn't a banishment spell which is as worrying as it is a relief.

So when these white suits start shooting using guns that glow the same green as Ace in Signals' vision and the shoots hit? Ace yelps in pain before seemingly barking out some kind of energy ball? And barreling into a wall so hard it cracked from another shot? Every single alarm that Signal can think to trip gets set off.

But not before one of the suits (one of the many suits, they're terrible fighters but there's just so many of them and two of them) takes out something that looks like a thermos and points it at Ace.

Within a second, Ace is gone.

Signal is so shocked he almost gets hit himself by the dozens of shots of energy blasts now aimed at him. He can't get to the white van in time before it speeds off.

----

I'm going to end this part here. I'm going to continue this in the reblogs but I also want people to take a crack at this story themselves! If you're inspired by this please put your thoughts or stories in the reblogs or tags!

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok but what if

What if Ghost was a knight (again) and then there's a spoiled, presumptuous lady who's bored (again)

She's the kind of princess who was dearly loved because she was a girl. No one knows why, because everyone knows girls are a liability. But she has been treasured and sheltered all her life, she always got everything she wanted, and now she's stupid enough to fall for Simon who has lived a life full of war and torment and who is not the kind of stray dog you would want to feed.

Our poor lady doesn't know she's playing with fire when she's toying with her father's (Price?) most loyal soldier: a brooding, tall, broad man who got his knighthood after this campaign or that. This outlander, Simon, catches her attention because he rarely speaks and never smiles, but makes her smallclothes wet because he has an ill look about him: a broken nose and a thin lipped, downturned mouth. This sir is looking everyone from under his brow like they're mere children in his eyes. The only time she's heard him speak is when he's barking orders in the courtyard.

She teases and teases and teases him: flirting every chance she can get, giving him soft brushes that barely remain within the bounds of propriety. She bestows heated stares that linger a little too long, she licks and parts her lips when they walk past each other in the cold, dimly lit corridors of the castle. He never returns any of her flirts.

Except the stares.

She can feel his eyes on her even when she's not looking. That coal-like stare is fixed on her wherever she goes: it's hot and cold at the same time, like embers that are kindling under long-forgotten ashes.

He's interested… But only in a way that a hungry, beaten, suspicious dog is interested when it's staring at a meaty bone, trying to decode if it's a treat or a trap.

He finally has enough one day when she dares to smile at him: softly, knowingly, like a whore in a tavern.

The gauntlet closes around her neck like an iron collar. She can smell the horses and the sweat and the dirty leather as the man she has dreamed of seizes her and pushes her back against a wall.

"Is this what you want? Hm?"

She finally hears him speak: dark, gravelly, and borderline exhausted from all the games she plays. Were he to hold her a little more tightly, she would call it a choke, a soft and slow strangling. The intensity is enough to make her heart flutter and her stare escape somewhere to the grey stone wall. There's no way she can meet that heated stare, now filled with flames and lust.

The knight she used to fantasize about is about to snap. The stoic, cold man is about to lose control at any given moment, and she's about to lose her maidenhood along with that shattered self-control.

He presses his whole body against her: leather and steel and hardened muscle, all that rough, well fed, thick flesh forged in countless battles is pressed against her frame like she is nothing but a flower. Her woolen dress is a poor shield against all the hard ridges of his armour, the pommel of his sword digs into her side painfully, but she pays it no mind. There's something equally as hard and demanding pressed against the apex between her legs. She's forced to rise to her toes from the way he drives his swollen cock up her cunt, and even if there's layers and layers of clothing between them, she can feel the heat of him.

"'S not a good idea to tease a starved dog," he snarls while watching her lose her confidence. All of it, because it was only ever a charade. A silly daydream of a silly young woman, just an attempt to distract herself, a pastime game that happened to turn into a dangerous obsession.

And he growls. He actually growls like a hound when she's suddenly so weak she can't even provide him with an answer. It's a dark rumble that meets her chest, a hot, slow breath that passes across her frightened skin. She feels like floating: his cock raises her from the ground as he tries to fuck into her through their clothes. The ironclad hand has never even seen mercy as it turns her head to the side for him to have a good sniff of her neck and hair.

"Sir," her lips tremble; her whole jaw is making it clear that she's about to cry soon. There's not enough stones on the wall for her to count if he decides to take her here. "Simon…? Please, sir. I'm a virgin…"

[punk-in-docs]

A song of brides and hounds: part III

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 4.3k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW: for this chapter - mainly violence and some gore, also Caracalla being a nasty little bitch -- enjoy!

The servant girls’ hands are kind.

They undress you softly, and handle you with such reverence. Strip from you the ruined stola and tend your wounds.

They wash your feet, ply your cuts with a herbal paste of yarrow and uva ursi, wrap you in bandages. They rub new sweet smelling oil onto your unwounded skin.

Pick off your old jewellery and finery to be discarded. Slip you out your shoes. Lay you bare. Stood before them in naught but your skin as they tend you.

One is wetting, oiling and combing your netted hair to silky serenity again. Another is cleaning the wound on your elbow. All traces of dirt - and your previous life along with it - slowly removed.

Stood you in a shallow golden tub of warm water that laps at your ankles. Milky with oils and soaps. They put rose petals in the water. You watch them swim and dip.

You beg for one of the girls to keep the fibulae broaches that held your now damned dress to your shoulders. Your very last essence of home. Venus was enshrined in those very broaches. They gave you hope. Carrying a small kind piece of goddess with you. Laying your devotion to the majesty of the ocean on your simple shoulders.

They guided you to rooms draped in blue and gold. Stars moulded on the ceiling with the ornate marble that drips from every wall and corner. Giving the false illusion of a night sky. The flat ceiling between them clouded with bursts and puffs of dark blue that indicated churning night clouds. Boundless skies. Endless seas.

It felt like showing all the maps of the world to a caged bird.

Soft feminine blues befit these chambers. Statues and devotion to goddesses crown the walls and doorways. Urns of large stemmed white flowers. One wall holds a table lined with a huge offering of fruits, dried and fresh. Some bread and cured meats and oiled small fish. And an amphora of wine and goblet for after your bathing.

The air in here is scented all floral herb and clean. Too clean. No hint of sea salt or dried weed that tumbles on the shore to bake in the sun. It’s unfamiliar.

The huge slab of the cushioned bed is draped with silks and gauzy canopy curtains the colour of dove feathers. You don’t want to look at it. You dread thinking what will happen in it tonight.

A large maw of balcony gapes at another side of the room. This shows you the wall of rain outside. The violent tumble of thunder that must be shaking the very hills and peoples of Rome.

You feel as if the sea is raging because you’ve been stolen from it. Now it seeks vengeance on the land. Lashing and storming mercilessly until you’re found. Back where you belong.

Unlikely. It will have to rage on.

You stand, undressed, unseeing. Uncaring for the wealth of the room you’ve been pulled into.

The maid behind you, Oriana, a sweet and silent blonde, is scooping your hair back from your neck to comb and ply it with vanilla and orchid oil. Dark sweet musk.

Geta had specifically requested it.

Your head servant is a maid called Aeliana.

She has an accent you can’t place. It’s pretty, her tone husky. She had wonderful raven hair spilling silky and free over her shoulders, eyes dark as cassia bark, almond shaped. Long lashes. The epitome of tranquil beauty.

The colour of her dress is different to the rest of them. Indicating her higher status. Rusty red and it readily compliments the natural darkness of her skin. She wore golden bangles threaded on each wrist, and her touch is cloud soft.

She has a scar that intersects down from the middle of her forehead, across her left eye and cheek and ends there. Skin twisted and healed shiny. An old wound. It makes her striking to look at.

Worse still; She catches you staring.

Lowers her eyes as she tended you. Layering the sticky wet herbal treatment to your wounded elbow.

“Does my appearance displease you, my lady?” She lapses into silence for a moment or two.

“If you’d prefer I could send for another handmaiden to come tend you-“ She asks. Not harshly. There’s a hint of shame to her tone.

You look to her. Fearful of offence.

“I am not displeased. Forgive me. To stare so openly is rude.” You mutter. Eyes falling to your feet again. You watch rose petals sway on the water. You swallow thickly.

If she’s amused at your asking her, a servant, for forgiveness, she doesn’t show it. She calmly counters;

“You are Empress Salacia of Rome. You are allowed to stare at whomever you wish.” She tells you plainly.

Your eyes water. You bite inside your lower lip before you respond.

Not yet I’m not. And I don’t want to be.

“How came you by the scar?” You ask. Knowing full well you won’t like the answer. She gently washed your shoulder with a cloth.

“The Emperor.” She tells frankly.

At your doe eyed expression of horror she elucidates.

“Not Emperor Geta. His brother, Caracalla. Emperor Geta’s temper may be foul and quick to boil. But, Caracalla he is… far crueler.” She explains.

Your mouth purses into a thin line.

Oriana has finished oiling your hair. Now she was styling it into waves. Decorated with ornaments of netted gold. Geta requested it down as opposed to the normal bridal style. Emperors have what they want.

“What was the reason…” You sought. Fearing the answer.

“I was too slow in bringing his wine one night.” She offers. Plucking a vial of oil from the side table and coming back to rub it into your bare arms.

You squeeze your eyes closed. Ignore the tickle of tears that threaten your scrunched eyelids.

This is the savage world you must inhabit now. Try to navigate with sharper hungrier teeth and deadlier instinct. You don’t feel ready. You must become lionhearted and fierce. Carry knives. Be ruthless.

You hear your mothers reverent voice in your head. Sweet sea child. You were not made that way.

“I am sorry for your pain. Aeliana. But I am grateful for your warning.” You decide.

She nods. “I thank the goddess’ for you. Empress.” She smiles at you.

Before going to the side to fetch your tunica recta, and the belt you’d wear on your waist in a knot of hercules. Which tradition dictated only Geta was allowed to undo.

Your husband.

You wince. Aueliana notices.

“Your majesty?” She seeks. Sensing your unease.

“I am nervous.” You tell her. You confide your worry in this woman with kind eyes and soft hands.

“It is expected of a bride to be nervous.” She awards you.

“I’m not a normal bride.” You confirm fearfully. She can see them shaking in your gaze. Threatening to breach your lash line.

She nods in understanding. You’re sure they all knew. The reason that placed you here. Spread like wildfire on dry plains through the servant halls.

“I know little of managing a husband. Of… starting a family.”

“If I may, your majesty. Your family is a noble one, yes?” She asks.

You nod. You lived in one of the richest houses in Corsica. You were never lacking in money or ribbons and new jewels. But at best you were a senators daughter. Not the ideal stock for an Emperors wife. Not the type to be governing one great nation.

“My grandmother is a well known seer in these parts. A healer. Purveyor of white magic. Many a time she has seen things that have yet to come to pass…” She explains as she wraps the belt around your waist. Speaking as she does.

“She foretold your arrival. Said the future of Rome would be written by rain and storm, when blood spills on the ancient serpent stone.”

Serpent. Synonymous with the Traitor. Two faced and shedding skin. Blood spilling, the death of your Brother. Rain on the rocks- this storm hammering down. You can’t believe it.

“What if Rome is your destiny?” She explains. Her voice kind and brave as the candles flicker and the storm rages on.

“Then I pray the goddess’ convey me the strength to survive it.”

“I will pray too.” She takes your hand. It feels like kinship.

They stepped you out of the tub and began to pat you dry with cloths and then dress you.

With each pass of their hands wiping the water from your skin, it removed you further and further from yourself.

Aeliana rubs a sweet balm like texture onto your pebbled nipples before she robes you. Said it was to increase your fertility. She also lines your eyes with burnt kohl.

They pulled your dress on around you. Let it fall into beautiful waves. You stood sedately and let them manoeuvre you.

Your skin positively draped with as much fragrant oil as it could take. Anointed with your new life as it drips off you in unbearable sweetness. Decorations not of your choosing put into your hair, on your ears, around your neck, on your arms. Strangled by someone else’s finery.

Slid fine golden sandals onto your feet. Aeliana brought a flame red veil and pinned it in place over your head. It floated down to your shoulders. Securing a crown of myrtle flowers over it.

It may have been gauzy fabric; rich and fine. But it felt like iron to you. Iron veil and a crown of thorns.

When they finish readying you, they bow and leave you alone to eat the fresh bread and fruits. Drink the sweet wine. Night closes in around you.

You didn’t ever picture the night before your wedding being like this. Alone and noiseless save for rain. You pictured the noise and gaiety of your sisters, dancing in their fine dresses. How they’d carry golden stalks of wheat to signify your prosperous marriage - how it would bear fruit. Be blessed by gods and fortune.

Your mother would bind your hands to the man you’d marry. To the man you’d love.

And you are here. Miserable in cold indifference. Clothed in perfumed oil and silence. With only your dour thoughts for company.

You pick at your offering of food. Feeling the milky eyes of those female deity marble statues watching you carefully. Judging. Maybe even disappointed.

When the doors next shudder open as the guards outside push them open, a divine older woman comes striding slowly, surely, into the room. Confidence woven into her steps like the very fine lavender purple cloth folded around her shoulders. A beautiful sage green palla. Her hair is dark and braided masterfully on her head. Shot through with bolts of silver.

You recognise her from coins. From statues. The Dowager Empress of Rome. Julia Domna.

She looks wise as Minerva. Goddess of education indeed. All of Rome had heard tale of not only her beauty, but her mind. Sharp as an arrowhead. A gentle mediator between her rabid sons.

Out of sheer politesse and nerves, you bolt out your seat and bow your head to her. Words shrivel on your tongue. Royalty is stood before you. Here you are plucked from the dungeons. You feel unworthy.

“Rise, my child.” She bids you. Holding out a hand laid with jewels on nearly every finger. Standing before you. Close enough to discern some of your beauty through the veil.

She examines you. Not unkindly. The way you’d expect a mother to examine the vessel that will carry her sons legacy. She’s discerning.

“Let me see my sons choice then…” she bids. Hands crossed in front of her, diplomatically, as she lets her deep set, serious eyes become acquainted with all of you.

Choice? Or chattel?

She walks around you. Eyes your hair. Your build. Your hips. The way you’ve been presented like a prized sacrificial swine before the crowds on Saturnalia.

And she doesn’t appear to find you lacking

“Goodness. You really are beautiful.” She says. It sounds mournful. Introspective. As if she didn’t intend on you hearing it.

“He’s made a fine choice.” She lauded

“Corsica, I hear you hail from?”

“Yes, Dowager.”

“I want to know one thing.” She says. Voice hard as newly forged steel. A shiver runs your spine. So she could be terrifying if she wishes.

“Are you a traitor against Rome?” She demands. “There are spies who would conspire to align themselves with this great house, under false guises, to murder my sons.” She speaks, crossly. Eyes aflame.

She has bite after all. Lions teeth and knows full well how to use them.

“I am no spy. I am not a murderer I have no guise. Like you. I only want to protect those whom I love.” You answer calmly. Placid easy waves. Gently now.

She smiles. Though something curious still lurks in her eyes.

“Then we are on the same page.” She awards slyly. You feel as if you’ve passed a test.

Her smile crooks on one side. Relieved.

She turns to the doors. The great sway of her earrings are big as chandeliers as she moves. Stunning gold. Bands of gold also cross her well formed upper arms. Every inch a woman of gentility and riches. She is perfumed with lavender. Oil made from dried plants fetched all the way from purple fields in Aquitania.

“My son grows impatient to see his bride. Come. Salacia. It is time.” She offers her arm to you.

Apparently your destiny lays in wait.

~

The wedding was a short and simple affair. The Dowager Empress led you to the grand rooms where they were to be held.

Grand, just like the rest of this humongous sprawling palace.

When you see Geta, he is clad in so much gold and armour. A blinding white cloak draped off his form. Armour golden. Carved with gods and victorious hero’s of battle. Golden laurel crown adorns his head. His smile at the sight of you makes you blush with attention.

You are suddenly grateful for the veil. It manages to hide you from every stranger in this room. You can make out Caracalla. Some other senators. Other guests you’ve no idea who.

The celebrant, a rather portly priest, ordered the evil spirits away. Asked for the fire spirits to bless you. He invoked Janus to watch over you from single people to a joined couple. New beginnings.

When it is time, he takes your hand and carefully threads an engagement ring on your finger. It is weighty, pure gold. An imitation of two dog heads joined together. A round sapphire cradled between their mouths. As if they’re fighting for it.

Remus and Romulus. It reminds you of him already.

You dare to meet his eyes as he does it. He looks ravenous. Umbra catching you where you stand. Swallows you whole. You don’t think you can get used to it yet.

“Wherever you go, there also go I, as your wife.” You speak.

The dowager Empress binds your hands together with blood red linen as the rest of the vows are read. The way his fingers turn and grip the inside of your forearm - firm pressing, hot like a brand - it makes you shiver.

Then comes the time for the marriage to be sealed with a kiss. Hands freed.

Your stomach is squirming unpleasantly as your stranger of a groom steps forwards to lift your veil. When he lifts the red gauze from your vision, you keep your eyes lowered until the last moment.

You feel the urging of his eyes. You could hear the fierce nature of his words as if he’d spoken.

Look at me. Salacia.

He looks entirely too boastful. His perfect little nymph. Caught and landed at last.

Hepulled you in by your waist. Locked his hand around your back. Gave you a kiss that was certainly gentler than before. Softness of his lips was maddening when the rest of him was all armour and metal. But you still felt the edge of his teeth on your lower lip. Bursting new pain from where it had split.

It was official. You had been dragged out a golden net cast in the sea. And now property of the Emperor of Rome.

You had no time to let your thoughts wander. There’s been quite the celebration planned for after. He walks beside you as congratulations ripple around you from nobles, senators, generals and high officials of the courts.

You ignore the way Caracalla sneers a particularly vile look your way when you pass him. Plotting.

You are lead to an opulent triclinium. Open to one huge side, guarded by pillars, which overlooked a garden where fountains trickled and plants bloom even in the storm that’s still brewing. Spitting rain on the landscape.

There are torches at the sides of the rooms, huge bowls boasting orange flames that lick at the walls, and freshly plucked flowers, still green branches and fronds sit in urns to the side. Filling the room with petals and heady nectar scent.

There’s a huge swarm of lectus’ in the centre of the room. Bronze laid with cushions. All pointing towards a huge table were bread and wine goblets awaited. You’re not used to how the room echoes. Unused to the sheer amount of people and formality that fills it.

The wine is poured freely by silent servants who sweep in and out. Some of them carrying plates as huge as carriage wheels. A whole roasted boar with grapes spilling out its mouth is brought in. Trays upon trays of cooked moray eels, cod and oiled anchovies. A whole platter of stewed nightingale birds, arranged around stalks of herbs and plums.

There’s fruit and bread the like of which you’ve not seen before. White bowls filled with cut purple figs and waxy oranges. Apples and yellow golden pears on tiered stands. Grapes and dried apricots heaped in dishes. It’s dazzling. So much wealth thrust before you.

You have a cup of sweet honey wine and take some of the unleavened bread. Watching as others around you gorge and toast with their goblets. Drinking strong wine and telling jokes and bawdy stories.

You feel disjointed from it all. You feel the Emperors eyes pass over you. The dowagers too. You are a source of mystery and intrigue.

Plucked from misfortune and placed here at the feet of gods.

You do feel when your new husband slides some pieces of fruit, or fresh breads onto your plate. A small bunch of sweet red grapes. His head may be cocked to conversation in this room. But his attention remains somewhat on you.

“Eat. Wife. I do not wish to force you.” He commands you. Prodding food and more wine in your direction.

Nursing his own cup and barking at the servants when he wanted more. You know his tongue must be stained with the taste by now. Sour purple. You wonder if you’ll taste it later in another of his animalistic kisses.

It feels like there is a boulder in your stomach. You swallow. You sip. You try to breathe. It all feels too restricted.

“Refill my wife’s cup.” Geta demands of the nearest servant. You flinch at his cutting commands.

You meet the servants eyes for a second and flicker them a smile. They look to the ground as they fill your cup. Their poor hands shake. You thank them. They don’t respond.

You’ve a feeling his plying you with wine has more than one ulterior motive. To make you loosen. Make you pliant. Make you slip down easier in his crushing grip.

“I have no appetite.” You admit weakly.

You can’t stomach the way the fat on the meat before you glistens. These poor stewed birds with clipped wings. The gutted boar. Glistening fat and dead meat. Same as the way of those poor flayed men in the coliseum.

Butchered animals. One and the same. The way blood sprayed out on the biscuit brown dirt under the sun. The way viscera glistened bright when spilled free from once living flesh. How these animals looked served on a platter. There’s no difference.

You take some grapes. Pick them from the vine. Bite into some apricots. The fruit rots on your palate. Fine sugary flesh and it bursts on your tongue like ripe putrefaction. You place it gently back on your plate.

“Do they not have fruit in Corsica?” He asks. It’s vaguely mocking.

“We had lemon trees in the gardens. An olive tree in the courtyard. Over 200 years old.” You state quietly. Not taking your eyes off the plate in front of you. You picked and prodded at it.

“You have more now. You are Empress. You have anything you want.” He impressed on you.

“I miss the ocean. The sun on the shoreline. My sisters.” You mutter.

“Don’t risk sounding ungrateful.” He threatens.

Geta followed the path of your reluctant hand with his eyes. He then scans across all of his guests. People of the senate. Rich merchants. Fellow royalty.

They come to snipe and drink wine and watch this new wedded spectacle.

“They are all dull.” Geta decided.

You wonder if the only source of amusement he could delight at was seeing people being beaten to black and blue paste in the coliseum. To have to see the spray of blood to feel something.

“They are intrigued. Their Emperor has placed a traitor in his marriage bed.” You comment.

Geta turned to you. “That sounds like treason to my ears.” A warning.

“Perhaps.” You answered. Boldly.

“But is it inaccurate? It is what they are all thinking.” You add. “You’ve wedded yourself to someone disloyal. Someone who is not their kind. They are curious.”

Geta scans his eyes over everyone again. Their laughter. The flow of wine. The way they stab and cut into food and fruit like they’re half starved. None of them quite meet your eyes.

Perhaps they don’t wish too.

His hand finds the meat of your thigh. Flesh firm and warm.

“They will believe what I tell them too. Wife. You only need worry about your loyal duty to me. Nothing else.” He makes clear.

You go back to pushing bits of fruit around your plate. Taking no more sustenance.

“No doubt you are unused to such finery.” Caracalla pipes up. Seeing you toy with your food. “I wonder what they eat in Corsica. Peasants sea food?”

You meet Caracalla’s eyes across the tables and mountains of rich food.

Getas eyes were dark. Fired by lust for you. That’s what you saw in them when he looked at you.

The same could not be said for Caracalla.

You saw nothing. Just darkness and his love of cruelty. Geta unnerved you. But it was Caracalla who scared you most. It was like gazing into a tomb. A bare skull eye socket. You’re certain nothing but darkness refracted back. Splintered twisted darkness. The purest distilled form of malice.

“Perhaps you are jealous, brother. The fact that I will have heirs meant for the future of the empire. And you will… not.” He snaps. Petulant.

“If she makes it that far.” Caracalla sneers. Daggering a smile right at you. A sneer that make you feel cold. He’s twirling a dagger in his other hand. Eyeing you with sick lustful interest.

He wants your goodness too. He wants it so he can spoil you for himself and ruin Getas legitimacy. By whatever means necessary. Geta has cruelly inserted you into this feud.

“And who’s to say the heir will be yours… who knows where her eyes will stray.” He jabs. Eyes widening as he leers.

Geta stabs into his food. Glaring at his smaller twin all the while. Eyes dark as shadow cloaked black jewels.

When some servants near you move from pouring wine, the sight of the persons impeded by them, slowed your world to a halt, ringing gongs in your ears when you caught sight of someone you recognized.

Macrinus.

The food in your mouth turns to ash which you can hardly stomach swallowing. Your gaze locked on the man as he lays content at your wedding feast. Drinking wine and roaring laughter with Caracalla. Garbed in robes of rich Aquarian blue trimmed with gold pattern.

Exactly the gracious easy way he had been when he dined with you and your father in his home.

His smile remains as he locks eyes with you. And raises his glass in a toast in your direction. You hear him drink to your new name with a blazing smirk aimed your way. “Empress.”

You mumble a pithy excuse. You don’t know if anyone hears you or if they’ll even look up from their plates when you get up and rush to leave.

Caracalla snorts as you race from the room on the verge of tears.

“She’s a flighty one. Your Empress. So full of tears.” Caracalla comments loudly. Cruelly. Turning his head to meet the acid stare of his brother - and the Dowager Empress as she lowers her goblet from her lips. Eyes cool as metal.

“Maybe if you shoved your cock into your broodmare, brother, as you doubtless plan to do this night. Maybe that would settle her down? Or maybe a good beating from the guards will see her right, make her see her place… maybe let a few of the guards bend her over a lectus and see to her first? Loosen her up a little for your uses.”

“Caracalla. Enough.” The dowager snaps. Lightning power in her voice. Tone fashioned from a fury storms could envy. Her dark eyes glow with it.

She turns to Geta and lays a gentle pacifying hand to his arm. “See to your bride, dear. She looked unwell.”

Geta sighs a snarl. Glaring at his brother as he does as mother suggested.

She watches him leave. Turns to her other son with barely concealed ire.

Caracalla snorts into his wine with the other guests. Making sneering, high handed remarks.

“Such marital bliss.” He mocks to the guests. Twirling his favourite silver dagger in his other hand. Laughing as he played with the dead meats on his plate with a sneer. His tooth winked golden in the light.

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

@ceriseheaven @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[poetlus]

“SIBLING RIVALRY” — katsuki bakugo & sibling!reader

SYNOPSIS: after being away from home, katsuki comes back for winter break. he reunites with his sibling, y/n, who’s missed him. when he realizes how bad him leaving affected y/n, he makes a proposal.

WORDCOUNT: 1.4k

A/N: requested!! i wish i could find the blog to tag them, but i lost it :( im so sorry. hopefully u see this requester, cus i really enjoyed writing it!! proofread by @sepptember & @lemkay-luminary :)

“Mom, when is Katsuki coming back?” You asked as you took a nibble of the snack in your hand. You’re both on the couch, sitting arms length apart.

“It should be some time tomorrow, what with New Year’s and all. If that kid doesn’t come to see us for the holiday, I swear he’s gonna get it the next time I see him.” You giggled at your mom’s response, making her laugh too.

“I miss him, ma.” You say as you bring your knees to your chest.

“Me too. Miss that kid like crazy.” She brings you closer to her, rubbing your back.

“He’s, like, my inspiration, y’know. I wanna be a hero just like him.”

“Meh, maybe without all the yelling? He’s gonna give civilians a serious headache if he doesn’t cut that out.” You giggled again, this time in agreement with your mom. You leaned your head on your mothers shoulder, her pajama shirt acting as a pillow. You yawned, thinking about your childhood with Katsuki. It was always filled with laughter and banter. You hoped nothing would change when he came back, although it was very likely that things would. After all, you're both getting older, you’re both maturing. Change was inevitable. After almost drifting off to sleep multiple times, you finally decided it was time for bed.

When you woke up the next morning, it was a little after 7am. You didn’t expect to wake up this early, but you figured it was just your body’s way of telling you that you were excited to see your brother.

You got up and started your morning routine. You took a shower, made some breakfast, and then scrolled on your phone until about 9.

Then, you heard your front door open.

“Katsuki!” You heard your parents exclaim. You shot up from your bed and raced down the hall, nearly slipping on a carpet and crashing into the corner of a wall.

“Holy crap, it’s really you!” You shouted when your eyes fell on your brother. You ran up to him and acted like you were going in for a hug. Right before you made contact with him, you smacked his arm. Hard.

“Why haven’t you been responding to my texts?! Is it that busy at UA? Surely you have some time to respond, so why is it that I’m constantly on delivered?? You think you’re too good to text me back, now that you’re almost a pro-hero? Is that it?!” You barked.

“Quit hounding me, will ya?!” Your brother shouted back, smacking your arm back. You jumped back and rubbed the tender spot.

“Hey! That hurt, you ass!”

“Yeah?! Good! I wouldn’t have smacked you if you didn’t hit me first!”

“Well I wouldn’t have smacked you if you had just responded to my texts!”

Your sibling banter went on for another minute, your mom finally tearing the two of you apart.

“God dammit, you kids are no different than when Katsuki was living here! Can’t you just get along?!” The two of you glared at your mom, who was glaring right back— as if she was daring one of you to say something.

“We missed you, Katsuki.” Your dad said from the kitchen, breaking the semi-awkward silence.

“Missed you too, dad.” Bakugo grumbled. He then pushed past you and went to his room, you followed him.

Once you reached his room, you leaned against the doorframe as he set his bag down.

“You still haven’t answered me.”

“Listen, I’ve just been caught up in hero work, okay? I’m not meaning to ignore you. I always am thinking about you, mom, and dad. You know that— don’t be dumb.” Another awkward quietness fell over the room.

“How’s it here without me?” He asked you.

“It’s really quiet. Kinda unnerving, not gonna lie. It’s like…too quiet. How’s it at UA?”

“It’s good. The dorms are good. The guy I have a room next to is like, my friend or whatever. How’s school?”

“Ooh, a friend? What’s his name? Is he cute?”

“His names Kirishima, and no. He has the weirdest hair I’ve ever seen.”

“Do you have a picture?”

“No. Shut up.”

“Ugh, you suck. Have you met any real pros?”

“Duh, a bunch. My teachers Erasurehead— I’ve even met All Might.”

“Woah, no way! How’s that?? Is he as cool in person?!”

“Hell yeah he is.” Bakugo smirked. “You never answered my question.” He looked up at you from his spot on the bed.

“What question?”

“How’s school?” His brow furrowed, as if he felt like he was being tricked.

“Oh,” You huffed slightly. “It’s okay. Boring.”

“Yeah? You make any friends at least?”

“Um.. yeah I guess.”

“You guess? Whatdya mean you guess?”

“I dunno..” You looked like you were going to keep talking, but you stopped yourself.

“Gettin’ good grades?” Katsuki changed the subject. “Ya can’t get into UA without good grades.”

“Mhm,” Katsuki sighed.

“What’s with the dry responses, assface? You were so bubbly just now when we were talking about me.” he, clearly frustrated with your change in demeanor.

“It’s nothing, dickwad,” You returned his energy back, but then quieted down again. “I just feel like we aren’t as close anymore. Ever since you got into UA, you’ve changed so much. You’re a lot more…serious. Not like when you were living here. And now, especially when you’re in the dorms, we’re even further from you. It’s like you’re gettin’ to be a stranger.” You quickly realized how much you confessed and stiffened up.

“But— but forget about it! I don’t care that much anyways.” You turned around and began to walk out of Katsuki’s room, the tips of your ears and the apples of your cheeks warming quicker than you expected.

As you stepped foot out of your brother’s room, you heard his voice.

“Hey, come back!” You stopped and turned around. “What makes you say that, huh? I’m not a stranger, I’m your brother. I’m always gonna be with you.”

“What makes me say that is the fact that you left me here. I don’t have anybody to talk to when I don’t want to talk to mom or dad. I’m alone, Katsuki.”

Your brother sighed and motioned you to come sit beside him on his bed. When you did, he wrapped an arm around you to bring you closer to him.

“I know I left you. You think I don’t feel bad about that?” You were quiet as tears began to blur your vision. “I think about you every day. I really do mean it when I say I’m too busy to respond, but I am thinking about you. The whole reason I left is because I’m thinking about you. Saving you, protecting you, being your hero.” A tear formed in your eye and fell onto your leg.

“Quit cryin, you big loser.” He took his arm off of you and playfully bumped your shoulder.

“I love you Katsuki.” You said as you wiped your tears and sniffled.

“I love you too, kid.” your brother’s words were soft spoken and gentle. “I’ll make you a deal.” You perked up in confusion, the tears from before quickly drying up.

“If you promise— and I mean cross your heart— that you won’t embarrass me in front of my friends, I’ll talk to Mr. Aizawa about bringing you to UA for a day. You can babysit Eri or something.”

“What?! You mean it?!” You gasped lightly.

“Only if you promise!” He shouted.

“I promise, I promise! Cross my heart!” You yelled back, gesturing to the right side of your chest.

“Alright.”

The two of you spent the rest of the day with your parents, eating a delicious home cooked meal and spending quality time together. Once it got dark, the four of you all retreated to your rooms after a long day. You were watching a movie when you heard a knock on your door.

“Y/N,” Katsuki’s muffled voice said.

“What?” You called from the other side of the door.

“Can I stay the night in here?” He opened it, revealing him in his black band tee and plaid pajama pants. You smiled.

“Sure, but I’m not giving up my bed. You can sleep on the floor.” He huffed, unsatisfied with your answer.

“But your bed’s so comfortable! You got the memory foam mattress!” He whined.

“Too bad, so sad. Take it or leave it, stupid.” Katsuki sighed and walked towards you, flopping onto your bed anyways.

“No! Katsuki, get off!” You shouted as you realized what was happening too late. You attempted to push him off of your bed, but to no avail. He was staying on that damned bed whether you liked it or not.

[aether-starlight]

Those Eyes - Rafayel

Pairing: Rafayel x Reader

Warnings: None.

Summary: Rafayel takes up on your offer to hang out and something of his catches your eye.

Word Count: 1k

For all Rafayel complained about hunter’s lack of refinement, you were quite an avid reader. He watched you get through half of your book in one afternoon, brows creased in concentration.

It was something fantastical, a journey amongst strangers with a common goal who would later become friends.

He supposed that if the core of you could be described by a book, it would be something like that.

Meanwhile, he had been painting —not studying you and following your mannerisms like a total weirdo, not at all. 

Since that time you had realized your face was on his canvas —he underestimated your artistic eye— he had settled for details. Pieces of you he could keep only for himself.

His current work had the expressiveness of your eyes, it swirled in the color of your irises and dipped into your pupils. 

To most, it probably appeared abstract, perhaps sand slipping down or crashing waves, the bark of a tree, a midnight sky.

To him, it was another attempt at unraveling you. He wanted to find the soft center of who you were, brush against your sharp side. 

There was a secret at the edge of your lips and he wanted to hear all about it. 

He imagined that kissing you would feel like drifting at sea, fresh water easing the blazing sun as all earthly burdens dissolved into salt water.

And yet, here he was, sitting across from you, making a total fool of himself. 

“You know, I met the author,” he feigned nonchalance, gesturing at the book cradled between your hands. “Had a nasty habit of interrupting people.”

“As opposed to talking all the time?” You raised an eyebrow, smirking to yourself. You were way too smug about your own jokes.

“You know, there was a time when you were actually polite to me.”

“It wasn’t you, per se. It was AI you.”

“Tomato, tomahto.” He shrugged.

Your gaze drifted from him to the canvas.

“I like your painting,” you praised, uncharacteristically. “I don’t know why, but it feels like longing.”

Rafayel felt the tips of his ears begin to burn. He coughed.

“You think?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, resting your cheek against your hand, draped over his sofa like a lazy cat. “Are you going to auction it?” 

“No.” His reply was visceral and much too quick, enough for you to perk up, and close the book on your lap.

It was his eternal curse; when he wanted you to pay attention to him, you ignored him. When he wanted you to pay him no mind, you were like a hound dog on his trail.

“Why is that?” You feigned to be casual.

“Artistic reasons you wouldn’t begin to understand,” he primly smiled at you.

“Uh huh.” 

You stood from the sofa, stretching a little before coming to sit by his side on the stool. It was a tight fit.

He liked everything about it.

How cozy you looked, out of your hunter’s uniform, barefoot and dressed comfortably. The way sunlight bathed down your hair like a cascade of gold.

Most of all, he enjoyed the openness in your gaze when it met his.

“What if I want to buy it?” You pouted. “Not even a painting for your bodyguard?”

Rafayel felt himself blushing.

“This?” He scoffed. “You have seen nothing yet, Miss Bodyguard. I’ll make you a painting the size of your bedroom wall.”

“I don’t care about the size.”

His eyebrows raised suggestively.

“Dick.” You slapped his arm.

He laughed.

“You make it too easy. Give me a week and I’ll have something for you,” he offered.

“But I want this painting.”

Rafayel was mystified. 

An idea surged.

He smiled beatifically at you. You narrowed your eyes.

“Alright. I’ll give it to you under one condition.” 

“I’m not posing naked for you.”

“Yeesh, what kind of artists have you met before? It’s nothing like that.” 

He felt just a bit scandalized, and if the idea of you posing for someone else made something ugly sprout at his chest, then it was nobody’s business.

“Then what is it?” You pressed, impatience laced into your voice. 

He leaned closer, until you could discern the light freckles grazing his cheeks.

“Tell me why you want it.”

You blushed furiously, sliding away from him in an instant.

“I told you, didn't I? I like it.” 

Rafayel pressed closer, positively glowing at the opportunity to tease you. 

“Why do you like it then?” 

He smelled like a fresh breeze, and every time he was near, you swore you could hear a distant song over crashing waves.

He was driving you insane.

“Fine.” You shifted closer to him, a silent challenge. 

It might have been your imagination, but his pupils seemed to dilate. “I want it because… I know what it is.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, openly curious.

His breath brushed your cheek, a reminder of the strawberries he had been eating absentmindedly while working.

You kept your attention nailed to the swirls of color. They harmonized, brought each other to life in a way that was both fantastical and realistic.

“I can recognize my own eyes, Rafayel.”

This time he was the one to blush furiously, quickly stuttering: “Narcissistic much?”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong.”

“You wish.” 

He choked back another cough. Dressing himself on his flirty bravado.

“And what if it were? Why would you want a painting of your eyes?” 

“I like the way you made them so expressive.” You looked down and mumbled: “How they feel.” 

“About what?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, fish boy.”

“Admit it, you’re just obsessed with me.” 

You scoffed.

“I’m not the one crafting paintings of you.”

Rafayel offered you a look filled with promises of trouble. Beneath the sunlight his irises seemed more rouge than mauve, they were like a sunset reflected over sea water.

“But I bet you fantasize about it.” 

“That made no sense.”

“For someone who wants something from me, you’re being incredibly crass,” he complained. “You’re definitely getting nothing.”

-

The next day he gifted you the painting and refused to let you pay for the delivery.

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 29th

Day 29: Branding // Hunter - Prey // Uniforms

Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Forced marriages, escaping/running, being chased, slightly dubious consent, vaginal sex, rough sex

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You can hear the dogs barking, the hounds going crazy for your scent. Hunting you, chasing you down. 

Your dress is in tatters, ripped and muddy, heavy around your ankles as the slippers you are wearing provide no protection from the sticks and stones that cover the ground you have to trek. 

It’s a race for freedom, for escape. It feels useless with the number of coins that have been offered for your return. Your very life depends on not being caught but the sounds of the horses get closer, the pounding of their hooves sealing your fate. 

You are running for your very life, the man you are to marry is more monster than man. Sure to kill you like he had killed his other wives. Terrified of him and the scar that bisects his left cheek, a reminder of his violent nature every time you had look upon him. 

The stream is nearby. Stumbling to your knees, you cry out in pain when your knees hit the stones and you feel the bite of the rough surface scratching against your palms and cutting them. 

Panting, you struggle to your feet, nearly falling again and cursing your sex. If you were wearing trousers, you would be farther than you have made it. 

Pushing away the need to sob as you clutch your hands and rush towards the water that could conceal your scent from the hounds. It could provide you an escape. 

The pounding of the horses' hooves gets closer, breaking through the clearing and you hear a shout of your name. Making you scream as you break into an awkward run. One last push to get away. 

He swoops in, leaping off the beast’s back and snatching you up by your waist. Your flailing is no use against his strength and agility. He has been a mercenary his entire life, only newly made a lord after saving the king’s life. 

“Let me go!” Your kicking and beating on his arms does nothing but make him chuckle. Amused by your feeble attempts to rescue yourself from your fate. 

“Never.” He growls the word into your ear, holding tight to you and carrying you off towards the small cave. Whistling to his horse, you curse the beast as he dutifully turns and follows his master. 

The sounds of the dogs faded, the men who had been riding with Pero Tovar obviously moving in a different direction, but it is no use. He has you. Not letting you go even as you fight him every step of the way. Screaming out curses and struggling to get out of his tight grip. His prize to have. 

The rain starts to beat down on you right before he reaches the edge of the cave, soaking your already soaked dress and making him spit out a curse that is the only grim satisfaction you will have. Dropping you to the cold ground and reaching for his belt. 

His attack is quick, fierce. His lips smashing agaisnt yours and his tongue forcing it’s way into your mouth as his hands unlace his breeches and push your skirts up to your hips. 

“Per-” 

With an accuracy that forces the air out of your lungs with a sharp yelp, Pero drives into you. Burying his cock deep with a hiss of pleasure when your walls squeeze him and he immediately starts to rock into your body harshly. 

“Fuck.” He growls, his weight pinning you down and holding you in place while he takes you. Claims you. Ruins you. “You will never escape me.” He promises, kissing  you again so you cannot argue with him. Swallowing your sounds down greedily as he ruts on top of you. Your cunt aches, stretched out on his thick cock and you fear that he will split you in two. 

His grunts are harsh, rough, just like he is. Greedy for the softness and pleasure your body brings him, he pushes inside you again and again. Feeling how tight you are, how your cunt takes him with ease. 

Your fingers dig into his hair and you pull it, but that just makes him fuck you harder. Snapping his hips forward with a determination to breed you right here in this cave. To make sure that everyone knows that you are his no matter how often you try to run from him. You will never make it far. You are the prey and he is your hunter. 

Your body heats up, cunt weeping from his cock hammering into it and your stomach twists in pleasure. Starting to thrash under him for another reason rather than trying to escape. Your moan makes him chuckle breathlessly. 

“That’s it.” He growls. “Moan for me. Your cunt wants me, even if you don’t. I will just keep you pinned to the bed with my cock, no?” He flashes a grin as he thrusts deep again and you cry out. “Good girl.” He hisses when your walls clench down. “Taking my cock so good.” 

You want to hiss and spit at him, but you can’t. Not when every drive of his hips takes away your ability to speak. To even think, so you just yank on his hair again. 

That spurs him on. Another bruising kiss slotted against your lips and his tongue curling into your mouth to tangle with yours. He loves this. The chase is in his blood. He is a hunter and now he has his prize. 

Squeezing your eyes closed, you squeal into his mouth, your body shaking under his when he pushes deep and presses against something incredible inside you. Making stars burst behind your eyes and your cunt gushes around the ever deeper thrusts of his cock. 

Pero groans, his pace faltering when he feels your walls quivering around him, plunging deep and painting your walls with hot spurts of his sticky seed. Planting his seed deep in the hopes that it takes. 

Your limbs feel heavy and your hands fall away from his hair, listening to him pant against your neck before he starts to chuckle. “You almost made it to the river this time, amor.” He rasps out, squeezing your hip and twitching inside you. Your walls contract around his softening cock and you huff as he kisses your neck softly. 

“I did, but the damn dogs were rushing me.” You point out. 

“Just like the first time you ran from me.” He hums in amusement. 

“I really was scared of you then.” It seems so silly to have been so afraid of your husband so many years ago. How you had listened to the rumors of his brutality. 

“Come, the servants will have your bath ready when we get home.” He murmurs, pulling back and slowly pulling out of your body. 

Home. A place you had once feared and now delighted in returning to. You had run and he had caught you, both of you discovering you had delighted in the chase and now this game had been born of it. Marking the yearly anniversary of your initial race for freedom and your mercenary catching you. 

[unsoundedcomic]

Whumptober 2024 - 10&11 - "Blow to the Head" & "Double Vision"

Durlyne let the Tanners have the slums and, in exchange, the Tanners did not often venture into the city's ghers nor its moneyed streets. This rule wasn't written down anywhere nor ever even said aloud; it seemed instead branded on local hearts. Durlynians learned it in the way that children learned knives were sharp and stoves were hot.

The Tanners had been Lemuel's boogeyman the first ten years of his life. Afterwards, he met the world's scarier monsters, but tales of the Tannery rogues had primed him for them: throatcutters, twin takers, back flayers. Hides from the Tannery were the finest in the land, for they did not skin the swine nor stag; Tanners skinned the man.

If you stayed out of the slums though, a lad was safe. A careful lad was safe.

So why, today, was the Sheriff of White Hill constabulary laying murdered in his fine home? His whole family, in fact, was murdered. A wife, two little boys, an infant girl, and even the family kedises slashed to death in their drawing room. Lemuel didn't understand it, but it was hard to question: one of the assassins had been caught trying to put the manor to the torch afterwards. A Midmolil boy for sure. An oily little throat-cutter called Corley Full Tang. By dawn, the inquisitors would twist him into shapes that did not yet have names.

But right now, his two accomplices were flying through the labyrinthine slums beyond Blue Boy Bridge. And Lemuel Adelier wanted them badly. He was only a week returned home from the army, freshly recruited to the Lions of Mercy. He was a Lion! They could never send him away again.

As long as he was a GOOD Lion.

"Take some care there!" Duane called after his brother, egging his mount on until it ran apace with Lemuel's panting bull , "You don't chase the viper into its den; you don't put yourself alone in the dark with it!"

Lemuel barked a laugh. "Home to the wife then if you're afraid, old man! Did you not see the blood in the Sheriff's home? From corner to corner it pooled! Over tin soldiers and a Tainish primer it pooled!"

Lemuel didn't have to turn to see the words had struck. There was a six month old baby girl in his brother's home now. Never again would he be fighting fully armoured. "Of course I saw it," Duane snarled, "And my prudence is not fear, ye strutting cock! Do as I say and wait for reinforcements. Do not ride off unbuttoned in your shortclothes and embarrass me, the one that brought you here. This isn't Chinoll!"

"Embarrass you!" Lemuel echoed, "Embarrass you!"

"Do you not covet the snakes? Know your place or the closest you will ever be allowed to a vliegeng are their dung heaps!"

"I don't need your permission! I'll find them!"

The Adeliers had been born and raised in the Godkiller's city, and though Lemuel had always respected his grandfather's advice to never venture beyond Blue Boys Bridge, he knew the Tannery's mark as well as any other local with a sense of self-preservation. As his hound snuffed after the villain's scent now, he noticed that mark mysteriously absent from the walls. Should the killers not be running back to their den, or at least towards the assurance of their own territory?

Lemuel was about to make this observation aloud when a door blew open, and eyes flashed in the night. "There!"

A throwing knife shot wasp-like from Lemuel's hand. The figure in the doorway yelped (Lemuel distantly hoped he had not just murdered a washwoman) and bolted from the building towards a break in the opposite wall. Clattering to the pavement, the knife didn't stick, but Lemuel's dog was already pounding past it, leaping, landing hard on the rogue's back. Lemuel dismounted like a diving raptor, sailing over the hound's head and to his prey's side.

"Some viper!" Lemuel grabbed his collar, hauled him to his feet. "More a worm slinking on his belly through the dirt! You slaughtered that entire family, and not a drop of blood on you! Look at the professional, Duane! Look at the coward!"

The elder Adelier pulled his hound up sharp, oozing disgust. "Excrement in a suit," he hissed, "Child-killing trash that would make a liar of Sonum Ssael when He taught every man has in him the way to His side. WHY! Who hired that hit, demon?"

Lemuel punched fingers into the knife slash in the assassin's coat, then ribs. The move would have felt more satisfying with a clawed gauntlet, perhaps, but it still produced a warbling, ricocheting scream. Blood oozed, and stuck the contents of the rogue's opened pocket to the LIon's punishing hand.

"Stop it!" Duane demanded. Lemuel did it again. Oh, Duane professed to loathe this sport, but he'd deliver this bastard to the inquisitors without a qualm in his heart. Ha!

"Sing for us!" Lemuel snarled, "Sing! Or I let you live to see the pit! And by God, if you do, you'll wish I'd taken your liver-"

The world offset suddenly, violent as a rutting vliegeng. Lemuel's vision exploded silver, and it was his turn to be on the ground. It was happy to catch him, but then he couldn't lift his newly wet head nor remember what he'd done with his legs. Fearfully Duane snapped his name but it was only his shadow that approached. Then in a mighty leap it cleared him, and Lemuel saw his brother bolt to the far end of the alley, palms flashing green spellfire. There was an exchange of pymary there, too fast for Lemuel's concussed brain to follow. Duane would win of course. It was hardly worth watching. Perhaps he'd give that show a miss entirely…

When next he opened his eyes, Lemuel was in his bed at the Temple barracks. Pink sunlight filtered through the high slits in the walls. He felt warm and sleepy and doped with something that he thought he'd like a second helping of.

"Oh, no, no," admonished Leysa, pushing him back down. Drugged or sober, Lemuel was powerless to resist. He lay obediently paralysed by the same tone of voice his new sister-in-law used when telling Duane he WOULD be playing cards and smoking with her father and his friends tonight.

"Where… is…?"

She smiled, grim, and fixed the cold rag back on his forehead. "Duane is choosing the 'most cross and callous tyrant in the Temple' for the task of interrogating the man he caught last night. Those terrible criminals nearly had the undoing of you, sweet boy, and you know your brother is one to take that personally."

Lemuel shut his eyes, giddiness and nausea battling for control of his stomach. "He… will wring his hands over insulting a hackney… until one he holds dear is threatened. Then, he would challenge God."

"I confess it to be a quality I adore," laughed Leysa. Lemuel thought she had the most musical laugh. He felt singularly accomplished when he could produce it. "Please do not mistake his nature for hypocrisy. Recognise that it is love."

"I fear… I embarrassed him last night."

"You are his brother. It is why brothers are. I did not see embarrassment when he laid you here in your cot however, nor after he had sent for his own sleeping wife to tend you. I only saw-"

"Love. It's how he gets away with everything."

Leysa laughed her songbird laugh, carefully petting his head. She liked him, and Lemuel still couldn't figure out why. He rubbed his eyes, cross, then felt a stinging spot suddenly at his side. His blood-sticky fingers found bandages there, and produced great agony when he pressed them into his abdomen. Leysa captured his hand, shushing him.

"Now, I told you they nearly had the undoing of you. After his friend struck you with that spell, the man you were on top of put a knife into your side. He's still out there, somewhere, but no concern of yours. You need to rest. I will have the cleric bring more medicine."

Hard breaths through his nose. Lemuel bade the pain subside as his mind raced. None of this made sense… but he would NOT be Duane's embarrassment. "Please," he agreed with Leysa, "More."

===

Double Vision

A few hours later, his hound was happy to see him, though Lemuel wondered why the kennel lads were keeping the animals two apiece in their stalls today. As he neared, careful not to seem in a hurry to the attendants, the pair of dogs resolved into one.

Oh.

He wanted to shake his head to clear it, but was certain that would result in a swoon. God's Beard, could he ride at all with his eyes half-crossed by the Temple's finest unguents?

They'd killed the pain at least. Lemuel was able to swing onto his saddle with the barest grunt, and only the slightest tickle of oozing blood from his stitched side.

"We don't have a lot of time before Leysa returns," he murmured. The dog whumped and beat its tail twice. Leysa'd gone home to feed the new baby, but she'd threatened him with strangulation if he moved from the cot. That's why Duane had sent for her. It had nothing to do with her laugh nor her kind eyes nor any particular skill she had at pressing cold rags to hot foreheads. Duane simply thought he'd mind her more than anyone else. Well! The great Duane Adelier was not so wise, was he!

He'd said papa would be coming to visit soon too, after the shop closed. That would not control him either! No, no. That only motivated him to put himself elsewhere. He did not need to see the old man's pity; that look in his eyes with which he had always regarded his youngest son. That look. That inscrutable LOOK.

I'm sorry you're not your brother.

To hell with it. Lemuel had investigative work to do, and some degree of personal honour to restore.

He made it over the Bridge in an hour, sticking to the low streets and away from the busy market corridor. Passing over the river, it was grey and berg-bloated, bottles and trash choking the banks. In the wan afternoon light, Lemuel looked down at his gory right hand. He squinted, willing his vision to align and read to him the torn scrap of paper stuck to his palm.

"Gherson Oa"

It had been in his would-be murderer's pocket. Was it a street? None that he knew. Perhaps a business name somewhere in the slums?

Once he'd reached the mouth of the alley, Lemuel left his hound and proceeded on foot. The wine-coloured stain half-way down the filthy corridor left him even sicker in his middle. He saw Duane's prints in it, a wild frenzy of boot soles and bloody knees. Slashes where his coatskirts had dragged through the seeping red.

"Love," Lemuel whispered. Of course Duane loved him. And he loved Duane. But there was not one Goddamned thing in the world that love could mend. Ssael spoke of honour, of duty, of responsibility towards family, faith, and country. If the Godkiller had thought more of love, He'd have said so. Let love be for mothers, fathers, and children. Let it be for people who knew how to laugh.

Quietly, carefully, Lemuel eased open the door from the night before, the one from which his attacker had bolted. It was unmarked. The lock was broken. Freshly broken. The knights and constables must have already been through here?

Aye, the small room inside was a mess. Turned over tables, papers scattered, a wooden trunk opened with pymary and all its contents emptied into a heap. Lem crossed the room and descended a hobbled set of wooden stairs leading out the back. They led to a basement converted into an equally disastrous kitchen. Its upholstered chairs had been slashed open. Sawdust hung in the air. Lemuel had to squeeze his nostrils shut for if he sneezed he was sure he would split open.

That's when he saw it. Sitting on the dark counter admidst overturned mustard jars, half a loaf of stale bread, and a few broken jars of pickle, he spied a canister with its label torn.

"tmeal," it read.

Sweating through his uniform, Lemuel affixed to it his own bloody scrap of paper.

"Gherson Oatmeal."

He breathed a chuckle, expression a rictus of triumph, and unscrewed the top.

There was only a dead mouse inside.

"Bleeeeeeding heeeeell," he moaned. Duane would laugh at the soldier brat thinking he'd figured out something clever. The Temple's finest men had swept through here. If there was anything to be found, they would have found it!

But there WAS something to find! Something about the entire assassination was wrong. The Tanners would not have ventured to the Sheriff's very home to kill him. They would not have killed the entire family, enraging the rest of the city. They would not have been caught in the act! And a Tannery assassin would not have stabbed a knife into an unconscious Lion and failed to have it kill him!

Amateurs! These were amateurs!

But wait, wait, wait.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Duane had spoken in the past of pymarics with material triggers. Doorways that only opened if certain keys or materials swept into their questing field.

"Is there a dead mouse door?" he asked the room.

Well, not in the north wall. He held the oatmeal canister in front of him like the world's least successful alms cup, rattling the limp rodent inside, running it past a framed calendar, a faded old poster for the General Foundry's playhouse (destroyed in a fire years ago), a shelf of tin tea canisters and detergent boxes. Nothing. Nor did the east wall budge, nor were there any likely apertures to the west, which was covered over with dusty shelves, a grimy wash basin full of dishes, and a stove missing its grills.

"An embarrassment!" he despaired, holding his head. He felt weak and sick. Blood dribbled down his hip and made a wet, cold streak in his trouser leg. They would never give him a vliegeng. Newly arrived and already put in his cot by some son of a bitch wright; by some cowardly murderer with an oatmeal label in his bloody coat. Probably the lunatic only kept it to roll a weed fag! Piqued, furious at himself, Lemuel threw the canister and its forlorn dead occupant to the floor-

Which dissolved beneath his feet. Into perfect powdery blackness, Lemuel fell.

Concluded here.

[sizzlingstarlightsky]

*Let Me Entertain You

Azriel x Reader x Eris

word cound: 1800

cw: smut, porn with plot, anal, deepthroating, voyerism

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another meeting. Another day of hiding. Azriel has been haunting the halls of the Forest House for the last few months. Avoiding being seen by anyone other than his shadows, his mates, and their hounds.

As well trained as the hounds are, they almost gave him away a few times. He'd been outside with Eris and Y/N on a walk. Blending into the silhouettes of trees and nearby foliage. Azriel would occationally let a shadow or few chase around the puppies.

Lost in the peace of it all, the spymaster was oblivious to one of the guards winnowing up to Eris. Some letter to deliver in his hands. Of course that's precisely the moment a couple pups started barking at their shadow friends. Able to reign the tendrils in, just not fast enough to avoid to color draining from the guards face. Rumors of the grounds being haunted shortly followed but nothing serious was ever done about it. Eris knew, he loved the subtle pandimonium it caused. Sometimes calling a guard or emissary to that spot for, some bullshit reason. The High Lord only wanted a chuckle.

But this wasnt one of those tranquil days of peace. No. Today Azriel is bound to the darkened walls of his mates Throne room. Forced to conceal the love between them.

Eris had no problem introducing Y/N to the court. He reveled in how contagious your laughter and joy were. How effortless it was for you to thaw out the frozen fear Beron plunged the land into. But that's exactly why you two couldnt be tangled up in the High Lords bed that day, creating music only for one anothers ears.

Today Y/N was in one of the villages. Helping them clear land and plot new crops. Making way for farm animals to flourish. Sowing seeds of compassion and hope into the hearts of who you deem 'The most important people in the kingdom'.

"Does anyone have anything INTRESTING before we end? It's been budgets, complaints, and concerns all day. Entertain me" As overlooked as he felt, Az couldn't help but let a small smirk creep into his lips. Eris might be a cocky bitch, but fuck was he beautiful. Esspecially sprawled out over his throne. One leg hanging off the armrest while he files his nails.

The image of himself kneeling before his High Lord, tongue pooling, cock stiffening, arousal heating... fuck. no.

Encasing himself into the darkness he emrges on a back patio of one of their secret cabins within the autumn mountains. The one lost in the North West Mountains being his favorite. Right below the relaxing regidity of the Winter Court and along to coast of the cooling Summer breeze. The air flow between all 3 courts create a jet stream unlike any hes flown in. Flips and spins. Twists and Dips. At the end of the flight, a clean dive into the late Autumn lake in the backyard.

Home.

At least he hoped. Finally a place he feels at peace. No expectations, just harmony. Azriel loves his brothers and sees them often. Grateful of their support towards his mating with both Y/N and Eris. Courts healing, wings spread ready to pave his own path, just to end up tangled in his shadows again.

Eris has been allowing the mask to come undone. It hasn't been an easy journey but slowly those around have been growing fond of their new High Lord. When Beron died and Eris was infused of the generational fire, many feared. They had only known of him to be cruel as his father. It was a challanging time to finally achnowladge the bond between them.

but you... when the bond reveled you as a second mate to both males, everything changed. Eris started relaxing. softening. Others started noticing smiles, laughs, even deep gratitude being clearly pointed their way. Azriel wasn't sure if the courts healing was because the High Lord of fire was settling in chaos or because there was a second flame to balance his intensity out. Help redistribute everything he's kept bottled up for centuries.

but Azriel... he stays hidden away. As if Eris were ashamed to be mated to someone so evil. So hopeless. So untrustworthy. So tainted.

Walking into the Mountainside cabin, avoiding Eris; who must have winnowed in while he was in the lake, Az headed to their bedroom for a dry change of clothes.

"Did your broody little flight not cool you down?"

"Fuck you Eris."

"Oh I know you want to shadowsigner. I could feel you during the meeting. Don't think I dont know what goes on in that pretty little brain of yours."

When Azriel doesn't give Eris the reaction he's looking for, he doubles down, eager to pick a fight with his mate.

"The dive wasn't super crisp today. I give it a 6. no, maybe a 6.9 but that's a bit too generous. Not quite sure if you can handle that." ..nothing.. "I don't know what's gotten into you recently. I know I havent been able to for a few days but I didn't think you'd be this needy while Y/N is awa-" Eris is cut short as his fully overgrown vampire bat rams into him. Pinning him to the cabin wall.

"You think I want to be your dirty secret? The one thing you keep hidden, afraid how others would react once they knew what a disgusting beast you allow into your bed?" Eris knew somethings been bothering his husband, but it's difficult getting the spymaster to open up. To talk about his deeper, darker thought and fears.

"Why are you two agruing now?" Y/N. That beautiful sweet voice breaks the tension in the room for a hot moment. "You know what, I'm not entertaining this right now. I'm going back to the Forest House to drop of paperwork, take a bath, and grab my book."

"Please, don't be fighting anymore when I get back. I'm tired and we havent had an evening to lay outside in one anothers arms in what feels like ages."

"It's been 11 days and 18 hours. 12 days too long." Az corrects. Still with his forarm pressing Eris's throat against the wall and his knee digging into his inner thigh. The High Lord only grinning. Reveling in the frustration of your mate.

"Please Az? Just talk to one another." Placing a jar down on the kitchen counter before Y/N leaves, "I got some more caramel from Marla in Maple Village. I'm gonna make cookies to drizzle it over tonight. So you better not be fighting or I'll eat them all."

A cold breeze broke through the windows once Y/N left. Leaving them alone togther, in darkness and flame.

~~~~~~~~~

Floating in the giant tub of the Forest House, the few words you caught ruminating through your tired head. Allow in your bed. Turning over leaf after leaf of meaning you overthink yourself into believing you weren't loving your husbands equally. Your mates, who have different love languages, diffrerent sleep schedules, different shared intrests. How could you possibly make sure one didnt feel slighted.

With a sigh and a clean body you step out of the draining bath. Drying off and putting on one of Eris's shirts and Azriels sweatpants, you grab your current book and winnow back to your favorite hidden cabin. Ready to make cookies and express your balanced love for both your mates.

"ERIS! Fuck you"

Great. Walking towards the bedroom, the sound of slamming furniture becomes louder. Not knowing what state of distress the bedroom will be in this time, you swing the door open. Only to find Eris balls deep in Azriel pounding the everloving fuck out of his ass.

"I.. oh.. uh sorry. I came in to check you werent throwing furniture at each other."

Eris turns towards you with a shit eating grin. "Sure you did Princess. You know our sounds. And I know by your smell that you're lying." Unshething himself from Az, Er walks over to you, grabbing the book out of your hands in favor of placing it on the table. Leading you towards the bed.

Wimpers fall from the shadowsingers mouth. Songs of desire, lust, and love. "Az here thought I was ashamed of him. That I havent officially introduced him to the court because they'd never accept him."

"What? Az baby that's-"

Tenderly grabbing your cheeks Eris shushes you. "He's fucked out Princess. I explained how I didn't want to pressure him into making his presence known and, well, you know how he gets." Heat building inbetween your legs at the two devilishly handsome males infront of you. Bare. Hung. Marked with passion.

A beat of silence broken by a deep chuckle. "I have an idea Princess. A surefire way to make sure everyone knows I'm not ashamed. Only if you're okay with it?"

"Oh, um" Blushing you remember a conversation a few weeks ago. Different things you wanted to try with one another "yeah fuck it. Now seems as good of a time as ever." Winking to Azriel who's watching you as if he's about to implode.

Before you could process what you agreed to, the three of you are winnowed into the Throne room. Only you clothed.

"Tell me Azriel" sitting on his throne naked, wrapping Azriels neck in a controlled flame collar "what is it you were thinking earlier"

"I thought you knew?" He tried to fight back. Never letting the male have it easy.

A nice tug on the fire leash brings Azriel mouth level with Eris's aching cock. On cue Az opens his mouth, tongue out, drooping all over the High Lords lap.

"Look at the mess you're making. Clean it up" Lowering his head Azriel licks up his spit from Eris's pelvis. Careful not to do anything without the High Lords permission.

"Good boy. Open for me" Placing his finger in Azriels mouth Eris begins to stroke himself. Azriel taking the opprotunity to suck on his husbands thumb.

"Fuck. So good for me. Princess, come here"

"Yes daddy?"

"Don't you agree?"

"Yes daddy." You moan. Humming into your neck Eris bring Azriel wet mouth to the tip of his leaking cock. "Earn your reward"

It's almost as if his shadows possessed him. A switch was flicked and Azriel is now the sluttiest little cock whore. Gagging gracefully around his favorite beef jerkey. "Get under him princess. Reward him." With a snap you've joined them in the skin dance. Dripping a trail of your sweet treasure in your path.

Slipping into position from the steps, laying down, you grab Azriels considerable length. Licking up the precum sliding down his vein and balls.

Mid face fuck the door to the Throne room opens, causing hesitation from your mate. "I didn't say to stop" Eris moans low and dark.

"You summoned us my Lord?"

"Cauldron bless us."

"Oh mother. My greatest apologies my Lord." There was a not so rushed scramble to leave, where many glances lingered before the doors shut them in.

Eris is the first to speak as Azriel's still bobbing up and down his cock like the good boy he is.

"You couldn't entertain me... let me entertain you"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I smoked a little weed, messed around with an idea and ended up here. I hope you enjoy it.

Coming up with ideas is annoyingly tricky so if you have suggestions please let me know. I can feel the writing hyperfixation building.

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

sandor clegane x reader

Chapter 6

Previous chapter here

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for this chapter- Threatening, Joffrey (we know why), mention of sex, breathing restriction, 18+ language.

Your arm is linked with sansas as you walk through the city courtyard seeing the gold, white, and red decorations. You look up seeing the banners, seeing them draped from windows and strung across the walls. Walking into the town square the space has been cleared and the severent are working to continue the decorations. 

You see joffrey barking orders as merryn trant and hound stand behind him. He notices the two of you and adjusts himself before walking over. 

“My lady sansa. Lady clegane.” he says 

“Your grace” you both say. Your eyes glance up at Sandor before focusing on the king when he speaks. 

“Wonderful don't you think..i think this is just what kingslanding need the festival!'' Joffrey says. 

“It's beautiful.” Sansa acts. 

“Yeah sure, it should be completed in 2 days time i hope the food will be good, come with me my lady, I want to show you where the fool will be performing.” Joffrey says, holding his arm out to sansa. Who takes it? He takes a step as the other two men begin to follow. 

“Not you dog, stay, keep an eye on the bloody workers if they can ever fucking move fast enough.'' Joffrey says before walking off leaving you Sandor and the other guard who assisted you and Sansa on the walk to the courtyard. Sandor nods his head to the guard who must be new by the way he shakes when he sees his superior, and the guard scurries off to fill his place with Sansa and joffrey.

Sandor turns watching as the servants continue to work. It's quiet for a bit before he turns his head to you looking at you. You notice he's looking at you so you look back at him. 

“What?” you ask, his hardened expression doesn't change. 

“What?!” you exclaim as he turns his head back forwards. 

“Are you hurting?” he asks reluctantly. You frown in confusion not understanding what he means until he speaks again. 

“The first time is usually uncomfortable, '' he says. Your ears burn as you realize he's talking about last night in public. 

“O-oh..i'm alright, s-sore. I should ask the same for you.” you say looking up at him. 

“Mm. just cat scratches i've had worse.” he grumbles. 

“I'm not hurt, you know. You didn't hurt me sandor, like you said.” you say taking his hand, his rough palm in your soft one. He looks down to you, feeling your hand in his. 

“The marks…do those hurt?” he asks. 

“Not at all if anything…I kind of like them.” you say blushing lightly. A short chuckle leaves his lips as he looks back to the servants. 

“Your cape is back in the room.” you add on. 

“Hmm..last night wasn't enough for you then little fox?” he asks. 

“N-no! I mean yes– i-I it was enough- i enjoyed myself- i hope you did as well- i'm just suggesting- n-no i'm not. NO i mean ah…” your face burns as you fumble over your words. 

“If you'd like it b-back you're going to have to get it yourself. My maids are terrified of you so they will not return it by mail.” you say pulling your hand away from him.

Amused at how easy it was to fluster you but less so that your hand is gone from his. 

“Fine then..” he huffs and holds out his arm to you. 

“I'll get it myself.” he says, waiting for you to take his arm. 

“Good” you say and hold his arm in yours. You turn your head away, opening your mouth to speak again when you're hit from behind, causing you to almost fall forwards if sandor hadn't caught you. Three men run by you, the last one running into you. Sandor grabs the third by his neck lifting him. 

“Watch where your fucking running boy! You've hit the princess. Watch it or I'll use your entrails as a damn jump rope!” he barks out, resorting back to his usual roughness. The man whimpers in fear once the hound puts him down. 

“M-m-my apologies milady!” he says bowing before running off to his friends. 

“You alright?” he asks you. Going back to you facing you. Your hand rests on your shoulder where he hit you. 

“Yes. Thank you for catching me.” you say. He nods, bringing his hand  up to your face, tucking your hair behind your hair, spotting the marks he left on your neck. He lifts your chin looking at his handy work. 

“Fucking pigs running through the streets nearly ran into me!” you hear jeoffrey's whining voice. Sandor pulls his hand away from you before turning to face the sound of the king. 

“You just stare at the fuckign flags waving in the air you mutt?” Joffrey asks, not really wanting an answer from sandor. 

“Sure.” he says 

“Mm whatever entertains your boring scared ass. Honestly I don't know how you entertain yourself around him.” joffrey says walking passed you both making sandor roll his eyes with a sneer mouthing a mockery of joffrey. Making you press your lips together suppressing a laugh. 

“Come along dog, we have to look in the bakery.” Joffrey says not really having to do so; he's probably just hungry and wants food. 

—-----

You continue the rest of the day and and the next exploring the festival decorations ever going as far out as the the towns square only with two f your hand maidens. Sneaking out of the castle with out a gaurd is no easy feat and often times with in the hour a gaurd who bring you back to the castle. Every guard its been has been Sandor.

you admire the decorations the towns people have done and the hope they share for a good and well festival even spending some time with the local children in the orphanages. Playing games and reading to them. Until you are once again escorted back to the castle.

But now you are on a different mission you walk into the seamstress house.

“Excuse me?” You ask a woman

“Oh! My princess!” She says and bows down.

“Shh no no i-im not supposed to be outside of the castle walls without supervision please get up.” You say begging her. She raises.

“Can you please make something like this. Black gold and yellow?” You ask

“A black dress milady? Was th’re a death in the family?” She says her thick accent almost missing words.

“N-no i want to wear it for the festival would you be able to make it for me?” You ask handing her paper with the sketch and your size.

“ o’course i can.” She says with a smile.

“Thank you i apologize for the short notice um. Here” you say placing a little pouch of coins on the table next to the paper.

“OH why mildly id’a do it f’free” she says you shake your head.

“No no. Your dresses you make are far too beautiful to not be paid for.” You say and smile.

“I’ll do me best, I’ll ‘ave it sent into the ca’sle on the day.” She says you nod smiling at her before hurrying off having heard that the guards were looking for you.

————

Walking down the hall you reach the library on your usual rounds to keep yourself entertained. When you’re stopped by two guards thier armor shiny and unbent letting your know they are new.

“Hello there little lady.” One speaks as the block your route to the library.

“Excuse me ser’s” you say and try to pass but to no avail you cant pass them, more like they wont let you.

“Whats a pretty thing like you doing out alone eh?” The other says hes got a Scottish accent.

“You’re blocking my way. Excuse me i wont ask again?” You say sternly looking up at them.

“Oh so fierce. Eh the little minx bites then does she? Id like you to use those teeth for something else then eh?” He speaks again. A disgusted look falls upon your face.

“She dosnt bite, but i do.” You hear the familiar gruff voice behind you.

The immediately straighten up.

“What are you two bastards drivleing on about.” Hound speaks again.

“N-nothing ser.” He  says. 

“Making s-sure the lady princess is safe on her w-way..” the other speaks.

“Fuck off or i‘ll cut off your cock and balls myself and shove them so far down your throat you’ll be coughing each others semen for a week.” He says shifting in his stance. The men bow to you before they scurries off. 

You turn to him facing him looking up at him. 

“You alright?” He asks. You nod in response. 

“We’re you following me?” You ask a small smile on yor face. 

“No.” He says immedetly before starting to walk off you smile at him skipping up to him. 

“You were weren’t you?” You smile looking at him as you walk. 

“No I wasn’t I was just walking the same way as you were standing.” He says 

“That..that sounds like watching me.. Don’t you think its also familiar that every time i’m out of the castle walls you’re the one to come a retrieve me?” You say. He stops and turns to you. 

“No, and if i was following you.” He says you smile up at him taking a step closer. 

“Why?” You ask, knowing that he was, placing your hands against his armored chest. His hands remain one at his side and one as his sword. 

“Because little fox…” he trails off you nod your head waiting for him to finish. 

“Because this city is not safe half the time.” He says. A toothy grin forms on your face as you realize what he’s trying to say. 

“You’re worried for me arn’t you?” You ask he huffs. 

“You are! Sandor you’re worried. Well you needn’t worry becuase i have a strong personal gaurd that follows me wherever i go.” You say. His dementor changes his soft gaze hardening. 

“You, Sandor. You follow me.” You say poking at his chest. He grunts and begins to walk away from you. 

“Will I see you tonight?” You ask out to him leaning your head to the side. 

“why?” He asks 

“The festival?” You ask 

“I have to be there.” He says 

“Good.” You smile. You watch as he turns to walk off again but turns back to you taking a few steps twords you due to his long strides and leans down to you kissing your cheek before turning and finally walking away.

————

You stand in front of your mirror, your maids interchanging dresses for you to look at as you wear to the festival tonight.

“What do you think of this, my lady?” one asks as she holds out a pink and white dress. 

“It's too…young I would look like a strawberry and cream pastry.” you reply. 

Your handmaidens giggle as one retorts to you. 

“Maybe the lord clegane would find you good enough to eat.” she says as they all giggle your face flushes with heat as your mind backtracks to the night. 

“This my lady?” she asks, holding up another dress. 

“Too green.” you say 

“My lady the dress you ordered came in?” she asks again, holding out a new dress.

You look at it for a moment recognizing the colors; it looks like sandors house banner. The black dress with yellow accents and golden corset display.

You smile about agreeing to it when the doors open and your hand maiden walks in with one of the queens holding out a dress crying in your presence. 

“Her grace the queen has requested you wear this for the night my lady.” she says holding out a red gold and white they would more than likely be restricting as hell. Your smile fades when the black dress is taken away from you and the maids help you undress in the current one. Your eyes glance back at the other dress before you're completely stripped of the dress you hand on and you step into the dress cersi told you to wear. 

The dress slips on perfectly, the collar coming up slightly around your neck, not leaving any room for slouching. As the maiden laces the corsets your breath becomes more and more restricted. 

“F-fuck.” you curse under your breath as she fully tightens the corset. You grab onto the desk side as she tugs pulling your waist in more and more. Until the ties are tight enough. 

“Are you alright my lady?” she asks, concerned. 

“Y-yes i'm fine.” you say your hand resting on your stomach now sucked into the heavens. She nods. She bends down to fix the trail of the dress so you can fully see the results of the garment. A knock at the door can be heard. 

“Enter.” You call out as the door opens. Sandor walks in. Causing the maid who opened the door you hurry a step backwards. You turn to see him in new armored gear. The white and gold armor shining against his dark hair and features. The intricate patterning on spikes and swirls reside on the shoulder pieces and in the middle of his chest the crown symbol. His white and gold cape flowed behind him. But what shocks you the most is his face, he shaved, but more so most likely forced too. And a boy about 16 or so follows close behind him.

A smile forms brightly on your face as your mouth drops open a bit. When you fully turn to face him. His grumpy resting bitch face still present as he sneers a look at the maid from cersi’s hands and she squeaks past him to return to the queen. His eyes hit you seeing you in the dress and his eyes immediately soften. 

“Did you shave?!!.” you ask excitedly. He doesn't answer his eyes just wander your garments growing colder again

“Ive been poked and prodded and shaved down i have uncomfortable armor and they gave me a fucking squire…im not in the mood for jesting. If anything all i want is to cut the fucker who did this to me in half and feed his shit to jeoffry for ordering it.” he says slowly. 

You walk to him only now noticing how heavy the dress is. 

You stand in front of him looking up at his face then down to his squire. 

“And you are?” you ask if the boy seems stunned to be in your chambers more than anything. 

“J-joss stillwood milady.” he bows. 

“Pleasure to meet you. Has my lord husband treated you well?” you ask. 

“Yes milady. Of course.” he says, actually telling the truth. You look back at sandor. 

“You look very handsome sandor.” you say. 

“Shut the fuck up.” he grumbles his heart burting at the compliment. You give him a small smile.  “Cersi has asked that i escort you into the banquet hall as a guard, as lord ...and as a husband” he says your eyes widen ever so slightly.

“Well you certainly look the part then.” you say he sighs and holds out his arm. For you you take it and exit the chambers walking to the banquet all seeing other guests walking the same way.

————

Holding onto sandors arms you can hear the faint gossip from others as you walk towards the doors. You feel the looks as people stare. 

“y/n.” you hear sandor speak. You look up at him seeing he’s already looking at you. 

“Ignore them. That's what I do.” he says, having noticed your discomfort. You nod. 

 You reach the doors and are announced. 

“I present princess y/n of house clegane and her lord husband, kingsguard, Sandor “the Hound” Clegane.” Everyone stops what they are doing and bows to you. As you enter. You see cersi, joffrey, tommen and sansa sitting at the head banquet table waiting for you. 

You both walk down the aisle that will soon become a dance floor to the table. You lift your skirt ever so slightly to climb the few stairs to your seat. Sandor pulls out the chair for you and you take a seat. He stands behind you slightly to your side. 

“Welcome my dear, i'm so glad the dress made it to you in one piece you look ravishing, Doesn't she look beautiful clegane?” cersi says turning to sandor to ask. 

“Yes, your grace.” he answers coldly. She picks up her knife and cups tapping the metal utensil against it. Quieting everyone. 

“It is with great pleasure that I have invited you all here tonight. We have music, fine wine, food, dancing here and in the courtyard. This festival brings us all together. Please enjoy yourselves." She says everyone cheers before the music begins. She sits back down and food is placed on the table. 

Everyone begins to eat but you sit and poke at the food. Cersi takes notice of this and leans to you. 

“Are you well my dear?” she ask

“Yes, your grace.” you answer. 

“I hope as well, my maidens told me of you and sandors consummation, I do hope those markings amount to your body healing well.” she says. 

“...y-yes your grace i haven't needed a maester.” you say she nods. And leans back to her seat you looks up at sandor you stands like a brick wall watching and scanning the room. You watch as everyone enjoys the party and dances and eats. You manage to eat a small amount before not wanting anymore, just a few raspberries and strawberries. You've sat at the table half board and half content for an hour or so before Sansa gets up and walks to you.

“y/n..dance with me?” she asks, standing next to you.

“Oh i don't think..” you say 

“Come on!” she says holding out her hand you sigh and nod standing up and taking it. Sandor follows close after you both to watch as a guard. She leads you out through the open doors to the court yard where more music plays and others are eating and dancing. 

A new song begins just in time as you both take your place. You admire Sansa's dress. A flowy blue dress no doubt Joffrey has chosen for the golden landed bodice shines against the outside lighting. The dance begins and you hold up your hand turning along with sansa. 

“I can't breathe in this dress.” you say to her. 

“Neither can i” she says, giving a small laugh. 

“My hand maids tied it so tight I can feel my heart beating in my throat.” she continues. You laugh and nod. Turning to the side to switch partners as part of the dance, it's a young man around your age as he smiles at you, surely admiring you. 

“You smell good my lady if I may interject.” he says. 

“Thank you my lord.” you answer. 

“Willow berry and prose is such a fine scent of a beautiful princess.” he says linking your arms with his as part of the dance requires. 

“Y-yes.” you say.

“I'm lord of the hotel house , segal.” he says. 

“A pleasure.” you say before returning to sansa. 

“Who?” she asks. You shrug giving her a pained expression. 

“Sandor doesn't seem to have taken a liking.” she says gesturing over to where he stands by the doors. You see him looking at you, his gaze hardened at the sight of the man who was making conversation with you. You also watch as joss nods his head enjoying the music in his place next to sandor.

“Oh no..”you say Sansa laughs as the dance shifts once more bringing you back to the lord. 

“Pleasurable once more.” he says. 

“The dance, yes of course.” you say. He chuckles, shaking his head. 

“No my princess, you are.” he says 

“I appreciate your kind word my lord for I am promised to another, sealed in fact.” you say looking over at the 6’7 monster of a guard and husband standing glaring. 

“Ah..well a dance will not hurt then.” he says. Before you can answer the dance ends and you curtsy as he bows to you. 

“May I have the next one?” he asks

“I really dont think-” you begin glancing at Sansa who has already been caught up by joffrey. 

“Please my lady, dance. one.” he says holding out his hand you nod taking it. The music begins again to play a very upbeat song known for lots of movement and dancing which you don't know how you will complete in the dress. He pulls you into him and begins to lead the upbeat dance. 

Not being able to last the entire song you break away from him gathering your dress and walking off trying to catch your breath. 

“My lady?! Are you alright?” he asks, you hold out a hand to tell him to go away but too out of breath to speak, but before he can place a hand on you he is grabbed by sandor. 

“Fuck off.” he speaks gruffly. 

“Excuse me sir but I am a-...” he trails off seeing Sandor fully and runs off. 

“Are you alright little fox?” he asks you to look at you. You place your hand on your stomach as you walk farther away from the music and dancing. You walk out onto the side view balcony hearing the faint music. Still struggling to breath your lack of air causes your vision to blur black spotting in your vision. The dress becomes heavier by the second causing you to lose your footing and hit the side barrier, you gasp about to fall off the side when you're caught by sandor he pulls you into him. 

Your knees give out as he holds you. He kneels to the ground. His hand is placed on your waist feeling the hard boning of the corset and hearing your labored breathing.

“Shall i call the maester ser?!” Joss asks worriedly.

“No…For fucks sake” sandor curses before he pulls out his dagger and cuts the corset down the middle allowing for a gush of air to return to your lungs. You grab onto him as you can finally breathe again. You blink as your vision clears. The color also comes back to your face as he places his hand on your cheek. You give him a weakened smile placing your hand over his. His eyes scanned to make sure that that was all that was causing your discomfort. 

“You're alright now little fox.” he says, kissing your forehead. Helping you stand before lifting you into his arms he carries you away from the party back to your chambers.

READ CHAPTER 7 HERE

[honeyxbunny99]

Sandor Clegane~ The Bitch and The Hound pt.7

a/n: Sandor is at the very end, I promise lol. There will be more of him to come.

Rather than the soft sheets that smelled of lavender and Sandor Clegane, you woke covered in straw and dog hair, and with a shooting pain in your neck before you even opened your eyes. You winced audibly and sat up slowly, trying to soothe the area with your hands.

“Fuck.” More pain ensued as you adjusted your legs and felt a stabbing, stinging pain between them. You placed your hand over your entrance and when you pulled it back, tears brimmed in your eyes as you saw more blood. You thought quickly about death; how you’d begged for it the day prior. You considered now how much you did not want to die like this. In pain, betrayed, alone. Suddenly the dogs began to pace and jump and bark. You heard the hinges of a gate creek open and you scrambled to hide yourself behind a pile of straw. You tried to watch the corner, heart beat in your ears mingling with the loud barks.

“Did you lot eat her up already?”

A strangely familiar voice taunted from the other side of the kennel. You shifted your expression from frightened to curious as the dogs silenced and footsteps grew nearer. The servant boy—The brat— finally entered into view. He found your face and smiled.

“There you are. Only joking!” He shrugged, reaching into the large bucket and pulling out another slab of mystery meat and tossing it into the corner for the dog you had befriended. “About them eating you. I just fed them before you got here yesterday, they don’t go ravenous that quickly, don’t worry.” He grabbed the bar with one hand and slid down, relaxing. “Come over then, love, I’m sure you’re hungry.” You made no movement, still hiding behind the straw.

“I heard there was a naked lady in here. Imagine my surprise when I caught the hound lurking around the kennels last night. Knew it had to be you.”

You withheld a gasp at the revelation, but were desperate for more information.

“Never seen him ‘round before. He’s more partial to horses… I think they make him feel smaller… you gonna eat or not?”

“I’m not coming over so you might as well just leave.”

“Think I haven’t seen tits before? Gods you’re awful prissy for a lowborn. A week in the Red Keep make you feel like a noble? Like your shit don’t stink? It does! You’re just like me. Except I have the keys.” He held up a set of iron keys and jingled it mockingly.

He can let me go.

You took a deep breath and stood up and walked over to him, trying not to let on that every step brought pain, and that his eyes on you made you want to slap him. You slid down the stone wall and stuck out an open palm. “What do you have for me then? Raw meat?”

“You’ve a nice body, y’know. I see why the hound’s still following your scent.” He spoke as he rummaged through the bucket. “Some boiled potatoes for you. There’s some burned meat in here if you don’t like raw.”

“Maybe for dessert.” You snarked as you accepted the scraps and began eating. He let out a small breath of a laugh, a surprised smirk growing.

“Anna said you were funny. Anna laughs at everything though…” his smile faded. “Is she dead then?”

You stopped chewing and scanned his face. “You haven’t seen her?”

The boy shook his head slowly. “She ain’t come back to her bed last night… Did you get her in trouble?”

You felt the lowest you ever had. “Yes… I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I loved her…”

“I loved her too.” He said. “First day that she worked for you she come back saying that you’d make it out… Know what I told her? Horse shit… And then come back the next day and she said I was the stupidest shit in King’s Landing, and that you were stronger than you seemed. Talked about how he hurt you, how Joffrey hurt you… How you were kind to her and that maybe if I was less mouthy I’d get to serve someone like you one day… She was like a sister to me.”

“To me too. You can believe it or not. If she’s dead it’s my fault as much as Joffrey’s… I told her something I shouldn’t have. I made her a target.”

“What’d you say that was so bad it’d get her killed?”

You finished the food as you considered your answer. “I told her I was in love with my husband.” “That dog?” You were reminded of Joffrey’s words to you that first day in the throne room. For a moment you wanted to reach your hand through the bars and grab hold of his shirt, maybe slap him. You quickly remembered, however, the cruelty you’d experienced at the hands of that dog.

“Yes… that dog. I thought that I was. I thought that he was.” You shook your head, vision blurring. “I was wrong. He cant love… He is everything they say he is and worse..” You blinked the tears away and ensured you locked eyes with the boy. “He can manipulate. He’s a monster. You stay away from him.”

“I’m not scared—“

“I’m serious. He’d kill you at the drop of a hat and he wouldn’t feel bad about it. He’s only out for himself… If you see him around again you stay far away… What’s your name?”

“Charlie.” The look on his face told you that he was finally truly listening to you. He softly wrapped his hand around yours on the bar. “You’re (Y/n)..”

You shook your head and leaned back against the wall. “I’m nothing anymore.” His eyes watched your profile for a minute. “I’ll find you something to wear.”

He walked out and did not return for what felt like hours. When he finally did, he brought you a damp potato sack. “I tried to clean it for you, it’s all I could get today.” You covered yourself with it instantly and thanked him. “I’ll try to get you something more proper to wear. And when it gets colder I’ll get you a blanket..”

You smiled softly at his kindness. “I won’t be around when it’s colder. Please don’t steal anything for me. This is enough and I don’t want you getting into trouble on my behalf. It sounds like you do that fine on your own.”

He smiled at you, waved and left just as quickly as he had come. You had no other visitor that day, but you decided to give all the dogs names to pass the time. Dahlia, Saphhire, and Beast were your cell mates. Beast, so named for his tough guy behavior against the girls and the way he growled and snapped at you when you got too close. Nala, Max… you couldn’t tell if the others were male or female, so you just called out “Goodnight the rest of you.” when the moon had lingered high in the sky. You had torn the sack apart to wear like a dress, and though the burlap itched, it was better than the straw and stone.

Sleep captured you easily that night. You shivered, though the weather held no chill, and sweat ran in beads down your forehead in the middle of the night. You slept in far past sunrise and only woke when you were practically trampled by Beast running to the bars. The dogs all barked but you shut your eyes tighter, feeling sicker than you ever had. Swallowing hurt, sunlight hurt, and as your body wakened more you found that you were nauseous. The dogs grew quieter as they ate and you heard Charlie run up to your gate, slap a few pieces of meat on the floor and say giddily, “Look who’s alive!”

You opened one eye in shock and saw a smiling Anna. One eye was swollen shut and her jaw looked bruised as well now. Yet she smiled at you and reached through the bars. You sat up and winced but tried to shuffle over to her. She turned and motioned to Charlie for the keys and he shook his head, “Are you mad?”

She hit the back of his head and yanked the keys away from him, testing every key in your gate. When Charlie began to argue again, she turned to him and motioned with her fingers and eyes for him to keep a look out. He huffed and obeyed, disappearing to the front of the kennel.

Finally the gate opened and she rushed in, closing the gate behind her so the dogs would not escape, though they were far too occupied with their meal. She opened her arms wide to hug you as she dropped to her knees to meet your level. You let out the sound of a combined laugh of relief and a sob. As soon as her arms were around you, your tears simply could not be contained.

“I thought you were dead.” You sobbed against her neck. You felt her shake her head and rub your back, so you did the same to her. She pulled back and you held her face gently in your hands. A single tear fell from her good eye.

“She’s never looked worse, but she’s alive!” Charlie mocked from the distance.

She caressed your cheek and then her face grew concerned. She touched your forehead with the back of her hand and continued to feel around your face. ‘Hot?’ She mouthed silently. You nodded, feeling the throbbing in your head intensify from your weeping. “Ah!” You suddenly yelped as you felt a sharp pain in your cunt again. You closed your legs together tightly in reaction but that only worsened it. You cried out again, hunching over and feeling bile rise to your throat.

Anna didn’t waste much time staring at your pained form, she ran out shouting and you heard Charlie’s return. “Oh shit what happened to you?!”

“Something’s wrong..” you could barely get out. “Inside me! Please, you have to help it hurts so bad!” You cried. Charlie muttered something to Anna before running away again and finally you puked. I’m dying, I’m dying! You crumpled into a ball on the floor and shut your eyes. Anna came back over and dabbed at your forehead sweat with her skirts. You were sure if she could, she would have offered you words of comfort, but instead she just tried to keep a calm expression. You passed out to the sensation of her petting your hair and a fire burning up your insides.

You felt your legs spread far apart and jolted awake, gasping and trying to retreat. All you could see was the kings guards holding you down. “No, no!” You screamed and tried to kick your legs at them as you had that day. “Hold them tighter!” You heard an old man’s voice but did not see any guard speak it. Your thighs were gripped harder and pulled apart by their hands. You began to hyperventilate and you banged the back of your head on the stone, blinking up at the ceiling of Joffrey’s bedroom. No, this doesn’t make sense. You felt the tears burn wet stripes down into your hair and heard your own ragged breathing. I’m not in Joffrey’s room. This already happened. I’m safe now. Anna is safe now. I’m with the hounds. The hounds.. you shut your eyes tightly and screamed as you felt something cold enter you again. A small hand clapped over your mouth to try to silence you and you flinched against it.

When you opened your eyes in shock you could see the familiar ceiling of the kennel. You heard the dogs whine and bark around you. Breathing through your nose quickly, your eyes darted to see it had been Charlie covering your mouth. He looked scared to death. You adjusted your head so that you could watch more of the scene. There was indeed metal between your legs again. An old man was directing something delicately inside of you and using the light of a lantern to examine you. It didn’t matter how gentle he was, when he reached a certain spot you screamed harder. That was when Anna came into view. She was crying and holding open your legs. Suddenly the metal turned and scraped against your inner walls and you felt like you could pass out again from the pain. The tool retreated from you slowly and you tried to watch. You told yourself over and over again that Anna and Charlie would not bring you harm, so these actions had to be for good.

“Ah-ha! There’s the nasty culprit. Keep hold of her, I’ve got to check for more.” You watched as the man laid out little black shards onto a towel. Those were inside of me! He continued to scrape the metal inside of you from every angle, and while it hurt like hell, given the revelation, you tried to contain your screams and struggle. Finally he was finished and he’d only pulled one more small speck of something foul out of you. “Keep your legs open for now, girl.”

“(Y/n).” Charlie told him, slowly removing his hand from your mouth and looking between you. “Whatever your name is, that’s bound to feel a lot better now.” He pointed at your cunt. “An infection brought on by metal… tell me, how did you end up with metal in such a sensitive spot?” He spoke as he poured drops from small bottles onto a cloth. Their smell was refreshing and comforting.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, still sore, and looked at poor Charlie. “It wasn’t my idea, that’s all I’ll say.”

The healer nodded and covered your flower with the fragrant cloth. When it touched your skin it felt cool and you were relieved. “Did this idea form in the same cruel mind that did that to our Anna’s tongue?”

Anna held a dropper over your mouth and you opened it. Milk of the poppy, you assumed when it hit your tongue. You swallowed and sat up slowly, holding the cloth in place. “Yes..” you conceded.

“That fucking blonde haired bastard!” Charlie chucked a stone at the wall, and then the stranger grabbed hold of his ear in a pinch that made him wince. “Want to lose yours next, son?!” “Alright, ow, I’m sorry!” He responded, rubbing his ear to soothe it when the man finally let go.

Anna handed the man back the elixir and tried to smile at you now that her tears were all gone. “She came to me last night after the king left her in the hall to die… I did that to her, show her, girl.” Anna looked embarrassed but opened her mouth and the man held the lantern above you. You saw black stitch work all over her stump of a tongue. “I help people when I can.. for whatever they can pay me.” His eyes found yours again. You furrowed your brows, urging him to look at his surroundings. “I have nothing, sir.”

“So I see. You can owe me. If left untreated your ailment might have caused madness.. or death.” He settled with a shrug. “Charlie said you were wife to the kings protector… yet here you are?”

“The marriage was false..” Charlie brought to your lips the first sip of water you’d had in days and you slurped it down. “I’ll get you something for payment I swear..”

“Or your husband can pay. Not much mind you, meaningless coin to someone like him—“

“No! You can’t ask him. He can’t know anything about this. If he finds out you helped me perhaps he’d do worse to you… I’ll figure something out.”

“And how about little finger?”

Your face let on that you were confused. “What about him?”

“Well he designed this whole mess… Has he been to see you, yet?”

You considered his words for a moment silently. If it was so obvious to a man far outside the so-called mess, how could you have missed it. Anna would not have come to the king with such news, and she had not even told Charlie who she was very close to. It had to be Little Finger, who only came to you that night to confirm his suspicions. “No…” you trailed off in thought.

“I would be expecting him in the next few days… He’ll come with a proposition.” The man’s bag was all packed up and finally he reached out a hand for you to take. You placed yours atop his and he gave it a chaste kiss. “Milady.” He said, bowing his head. “You take care of her now, Charlie. She’ll need vegetables and meat if you can spare them. And lots of water..” he trailed off leaving the kennel. You crossed your legs and looked down at the shards on the towel. You reached out and touched them. They looked like paint chips, jagged and mismatched. These little things almost killed me…

Anna touched her hand to your forehead to check your temperature again and nodded. “She can make sounds, I’ve heard her. It’s not like he took her voice out.” Charlie patted his lap and Beast came over, sniffing his hands. Anna’s face grew irritated. “I think she’s just embarrassed to try… chicken?” He concluded with a mocking smile. Anna stood up and started to get near him but Beast turned to her and growled fierce. Charlie laughed and pointed. “He don’t like girls, he’s got a good sense about him.”

“Beast.” You chimed in after another drink of water. “That’s what I’ve been calling him.”

“I call him Chompers!” He looked at you excitedly and then pulled up one side of the dog’s mouth. “Look at those teeth. He could tear you to shreds, tear anything to shreds!” He pet the dog’s head and you smiled at him. He really was a brat, but he was just a boy. In some ways he seemed younger than he looked, yet his view of the world told you he was jaded. “Eh, but none of them have real names though. So I s’pose you can call them whatever you like.”

Anna folded her hands up by her head, leaned on them and closed her eyes, as if to pretend to sleep. Charlie nodded in understanding and stood up. “Goodnight, (Y/n). I hope your cunt feels better in the morning.” He stepped over you only to be hit in the shoulder by Anna. You almost laughed and she looked back at you apologetically. They opened your gate, waved goodbye to you, and left.

Whatever oils the healer put on the cloth, combined with the milk of the poppy truly did make your pain go away. The dogs stayed away from you that night, and you fell asleep against the floor for the third night.

In the morning there was a great deal of commotion outside the kennel, and occasionally you would raise up onto your toes to get a look out the high barred window. You saw people carrying gates, barrels, weaponry. War already? You’d heard rumor of Stannis and Renly Baratheon gathering armies for claims to the iron throne, but you never imagined they’d make it to King’s Landing. Later you heard King Joffrey’s voice nearby and you were frozen in fear.

“I will have a new sword made. I need something fresh to chop off my uncle’s head, and then the Stark will follow.” “Yes, your Majesty.”

Slowly you gathered enough bravery to look again out the window. You saw Joffrey continue to order his men around, and you saw him beside him. He looked angry and tired, but he was there. You wished you hadn’t still thought him handsome. You were sure, however, as they stopped to speak to someone new, that you could never love him. He was mean and cowardly, and a liar. He said he’d kill Joffrey if it came down to it. Yet you were here, and he was there protecting him. Sandor’s eyes suddenly darted to the kennel and scanned the side of it. Part of you wanted to move, but the other part wanted him to see you. So you remained. His eyes eventually found the window you were watching from and when he locked in with your eyes, his mouth fell open the smallest amount. You glared at him, anger filling your eyes with water again.

He adjusted his hands to hold his belt and closed his mouth. He stared you down, almost daring you to look away. You refused. Joffrey and his men’s started moving again and Sandor Clegane fell behind. You thought for a moment that he might approach you, and you wondered what you’d do if you were near him again. It appeared you would never get your answer, as his feet began their march in the path of the king again, and he looked away.

You finally felt the disgust everyone else did when they looked at him.

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Deadpool and Wolverine as dogs.

I do not own any photos.

Wade:

TWCs are thin long legged dog. Wade is 27 inches at the withers and is about 60 pounds, which makes him very thin and agile.

Treeing Walker Coonhounds (TWCs) are generally not aggressive, especially towards people they know and are known for being friendly unless given an alterier motive.

They get along well with other dogs and children but some owners say they can annoy other dogs too much seeing as TWCs were bred to hunt in packs.

TWCs are small-game hunters and may show excessive interest in smaller animals, like cats. Proper training and socialization from a young age can help them with self-control so not to chase after every single rabbit they see in the yard. Recall training is a must.

TWCs have a lot of energy and can be very vocal at times. Too much energy pent-up can make the dog anxious and can sometimes lead to aggression.

If they don't receive proper socialization training, TWCs may become possessive of their family and home, which can lead to aggression or outbursts towards strangers.

Logan:

Rottys are stocky and more muscly, Logan stands at about 24 inches and 95 pounds (which is underweight really or super lean)

Rottweilers are not naturally aggressive dogs, but they can appear aggressive towards people outside of their family or home due to their loyalty and protective nature.

Fear-based aggression can be treated, but it requires a patient and skilled owner.

Rottweilers are also known for being playful and affectionate, and they tend to get along well with children.

Rottweilers will show great loyalty and protectiveness toward people in their homes but will become protective of it towards people they don't know.

Rottweilers are sometimes described as stubborn breeds to train but they often become easier to those they bond with. They ussually bond with only one handler (COUGH Charles COUGH) and become upset if away for too long. Handlers have to use both strict structure and reward based training for a Rottweiler to take orders.

I chose a Rottweiler also because of the Rotty Rumble, a growling sound in their chest that is breed specifc for them when they are happy and it goes along with my idea that Logan growls when happy too, you just have to learn the differences. Think about how much he grunts too.

Experiance:

Ive owned/ trained both of them and while I will say the coon hound was easier to train, its like having an orange cat as a dog. Keep in mind.. This is literally an average Treeing Walker Coonhound...

Jumping on stuff, getting injured, running into walls at full speed. He was much more energetic than my rottweiler. Yeah, you'd have to tell him a command 3 times before he did it and hed huff and sigh, but he was much more cuddly and laid back.

Whats funny is BOTH breeds are known to play too rough with their fellow dogs, rotts ussually only can play with other rotts and Coon hounds ussually can only play with other large coon hounds with the exception of perhaps a working lab whos really tolerant to the coon hounds howls, demand barks, and constant pestering.

Oh and another thing.

Wade has demodectic mange.

Is demodectic mange contagious? No, demodectic mange is not contagious to other animals or humans but can cause patches, irratation, itchyness, and lots of discomfort for the dog.

CONTENT WARNING: Pictures of Mange.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. If anyone draws them, please tag me. 🙏

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Until I see you again

Eris x mermaid OC

Based on this prompt by @ghostedgrim

Word count: 2400+

Warnings: swear words; imagining beheading; blood and bruises

For the Day 1: bonds/bargains of @erisweekofficial

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Eris was exhausted. He had enough of this place, he had enough of his fucking father and his stupid decisions that led to nothing good. Oh, how desperately he waited for the day he could get rid of that old asshole and take over this court. He already had a whole badass list of things he would do.

His eyes roamed over the room and all the faces gathered here. Dead. All of this lordlings who were trying to shove their heads up Beron's ass, would be dead. That was the very first task on his list. Imagining their heads rolling down on the floor, was the only thing that was helping him survive today's counsel.

He had to play his part flawlessly and wait patiently for the right moment to make his dreams come true, but right now, he wasn't able to take it anymore. When the meeting with lords and his father that caused the blood boiled in his veins, was finally over, he stood up and with long strides marched out from the room before someone could stop him. He wasn't able to keep his bored, ruthless mask, it was slowly slipping from his grip. The fire hummed in his veins, asking for permission to burn, to kill, to destroy. He desperately needed time to cool down, to clear his mind before he would do something stupid and expose himself.

Without giving it much thoughts, he headed for the gardens. Maybe the fresh air would do him good. The Mother granted him his wish and he didn't meet a single soul on his way through hallways, nor when he finally got out of that rotten place. Brisk air filled his lungs and part of his burden instantly disappeared. Feeling a bit lighter and completely lost in thoughts, his legs carried him to unmaintained part of the garden and up the hidden path to the forest on the hill behind the Forest House.

It was beautiful sunny day and birds merrily chirped in the crowns of trees. The forest shone with the bright colours of autumn, gentle breeze played with the remaining smell of storm from the other day. Eris took a deep breath and closed his amber eyes. He didn't need sight, he knew this place so well as the back of his hand. His legs sped up until he was running, pushing through the low bushes. He slowed down only when the ruins of the ancient sanctuary dedicated to one of the forgotten gods came into view.

Half immersed in the undergrowth lay the remains of massive pillars and walls, the grey limbs of broken marble statues that used to be white, stuck out among the ivy leaves like canines of gigantic monster. The nature was slowly swallowing what didn't belong there.

Eris always had a very strange feeling in this place bordering on fear. He felt here history that breathed as if it was a living thing, and magic older than his kind soaked in these stones, buzzing under his feet. It was dangerous and repulsing, yet pulling him closer, inviting him to stay. Only here he could be himself and didn't need to hide anything. As a little boy he used to come up here to cry after beating. This was his kingdom, his safe place.

Before he could give in to the lure, the sounds of happy barking reached him, pulling him out of the trance. It took only a single heartbeat and he was surrounded by his smokehounds. The beasts were excitedly jumping around him, trying to lick his face.

"Good boys," Eris relaxed and finally smiled, petting as many heads as he could. From the inner pocket of his jacket he took out the dog crackers that he carried around just in case. These furry beasts always scared his dark thoughts away and cheered him up. With them, it was as if all the worries suddenly disappeared in a puff of steam.

He took out a bow and quiver with arrows from the one of remaining alcoves in the wall. From the moment their master touched those things, the hounds didn't need any command, they instantly knew. Wagging their tails, they fell silent and sniffed in the air. As one they rushed deeper into the forest, closely followed by Eris. His amber eyes turned into two hot coals with excitement from the hunt, playful smirk twisted corners of his mouth.

This was what he needed the most now. The feeling of freedom, the wind playing with strands of his long red hair and a prey to shoot down and later bake on dancing flames. He rushed through the forest, zigzagging between the trees, following his hounds. Their brilliant noses never failed them. Even now they certainly found him some interesting prey. They knew his preferences and loved the challenge as much as he did.

They ran maybe for an hour when a sound of rushing water filled the air. Eris knew this part of the forest as well as the stream ahead. He often hunted around here.

The stream was actually quite small and harmless river, the only source of water for all kinds of creatures inhabiting this place. However, when it started to rain, it turned into a wild torrent that took and killed everything that stood in its way.

The hounds led him for a while down the stream, completely silent, their eyes on something he couldn't see yet. Gradually they slowed down until they stopped, growling lowly. There it was, his prey.

Eris hid behind the nearest trunk and listened. It took him a while to pick up on small whimpers and groans, coming from behind dense bush in the bend of the stream. Something was hiding in there.

He sneaked closer, securing one of the arrows in his grip. He quietly drew the bowstring to its maximum, ready to fire. He peeked out from his current hideaway, looking for the motion. There, among the yellow and orange leaves, a deep blue scaly tail glistened in the faint rays of sunlight penetrating through the treetops above him.

Eris frowned. What the fuck? He'd never encountered so big, strangely coloured snake nor heard about something like that. The tail was as thick as his own waist. What creature could be possibly so big. His gaze followed the trail of glittering scales to the place where the tail started to taper, disappearing in the water. Suddenly an enormous fish fin emerged from the water and splashing all around fell back.

Eris inhaled sharply. His gaze wandered to the other side where scales turned into a skin, a soft looking pale skin with slightly bluish undertone that had never been kissed by sunlight. Small bruises and wounds covered the torso of the young female with long sea-green hair. She lay face down, exhausted in the grass, her chest heaving heavily. She whimpered as she struggled to push up on her delicate arms, pulling herself on the bank. As soon as her fin left the water, she collapsed down and turned on her back, exposing naked chest with two lovely peaks.

Eris could swear that he already felt them in his palms, firm and squishy, hardening as he worked on them. He shook his head to get rid of that picture, to clear his mind once again.

He watched her with bated breath, drinking in the delicate beauty spread on ground before him. The big eyes of the colour of ocean searched the forest around her, but she didn't notice him. Her breath slowly calmed down, full lips lightly quivered. She had to be really scared, being so far away from her home in unknown territory. As far as he knew, mermaids didn't live in Autumn Court, only in ocean and mainly in Summer Court. She was indeed too far. How did she get here?

A small cuts on her tiny neck, the gills, closed up, turning into faint scars. In horror he watched as her tail began to melt before his eyes. He'd never encountered a real mermaid and any of the stories didn't mention that they could come out of the water. The panic gripped his insides at the thought of her turning into a sea foam and perishing just like that. He couldn't just stand here and keep watching, he had to help her.

Putting bow down, Eris stepped out from behind the tree trunk, heading to her. He abruptly halted when his gaze landed on two long pale legs. She wasn't dying, only changing. He'd never seen someone so beautiful in his entire life. His jaw tightened as his gaze roamed over her perfect naked body, slightly glistening as if dusted with glitter, his cock painfully twitching in the pants. He wanted her right there, right now. He hardly controlled his actions. A primal growl sounded in his chest, startling her.

Little mermaid's body fully turned to him, her face a mask of terror. The moment their gazes locked, he froze on spot, the urgent violent need faded into a faint feeling that made his heart fluttering with warmth he never felt till this day. She gasped and struggled to stand up, wailing in the pain. That snapped him out of his stupor. He blinked once, then twice. Wolfish grin slowly spread on his face.

"Let's see who I found wandering in my forest," he tilted his head to the side. The female took a step back, whimpering in more pain. Eris noticed a bloodstain on the place where she stood before. He swallowed hard, the desire to tease her and play with her was all gone instantly. "Are you seriously hurt?"

She didn't answer, only stared at him with those marvellous eyes.

He raised his hands, trying to not to scare her more. "I won't hurt you. Let's start again. I'm Eris Vanserra, a heir to the Autumn Court. Who are you?"

"I'm Mare," she finally spoke. Her voice was trembling, but it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. It was so melodic as the sweetest song in this world and carried the sound of the waves in it, smell of salt immediately hit his nose. The sound was luring him to come closer, his fingers tickled with need to touch her skin. It was so hard to resist it, but he was a stubborn male. Nothing could break him so easily.

"Very well," he said seemingly unaffected, giving her a smile he hoped was kind and reassuring. "How did you get to the forest, Mare? The ocean is quite far from here."

She looked around, searching for the words. It seemed that even speaking was painful for her. "I wanted to see the mainland and got caught in the storm. I think that something hit my head and when I woke up I was here, in this puddle of sweet water." She pointed her tiny finger to the stream with disgust.

Eris snorted, hiding it with his palm.

"I have to return to the ocean," she urged. "I don't have much time."

The urgency in her voice caused the smile to freeze on his face. "What happens if you don't?"

"I'll die," she said simply without an ounce of fear.

A shiver ran down Eris's spine. For some reason he couldn't allow that, but he didn't want to let her go. Not yet. Something in her presence made him feel at peace and so free as he'd never felt before. He narrowed his amber eyes on her, thinking.

"If I help you to get back, what will you give me in return?"

She tilted her head to the side, calculating. Her gaze darted nervously to the setting sun. Then she smiled sweetly. "What would you like to get for your help?"

Eris knew exactly what he wanted. "I want to see you again."

She blinked in shock. "You what?"

"You heard me. I want to meet with you again."

Her big eyes roamed over him, finally properly taking him in. She blushed and her expression softened. "Fine. So will you help me?"

Eris took down his jacket and stepping to her, he wrapped it around her delicate form, trying to not to look at all the tempting parts of her body that caused the fire in his vein roared with need. She was so small that she hardly reached to his chest, his jacket looking like a dress on her.

When she was finally fully covered, he picked her up, tugging her to his chest. She blushed even more fiercely, her heart beating so fast and strongly that he not only heard it but also felt it. He couldn't suppress the gentle expression that softened his features as he looked down on her.

"Fine," he hummed and winnowed them to the coast.

The salty wind ruffled their hair and Mare twitched in his arms, desperate to get back to the water.

"Not so fast," he murmured, tightening his grip on her. He carried her all the way to the line of water, but didn't stop there. He continued until he stood up to his waist in the water.

"Don't forget your promise, Mare."

"I won't," she looked up at him. "Thank you, Eris." With that she reached up and pulled closer to his face. She pressed her cold lips against his, drawing a moan from him. She taste even better than he was imagining.

So slowly he lowered with her to the waves, feeling exactly the moment her legs changed back into the tail. She sank into the waters and he gladly followed her, their lips still dancing, drinking each other. When his lungs started to burn with pain, she pushed him away, and he emerged to the surface, gulping the fresh air. He looked behind him and gasped in surprise. He was at least a kilometer from the shore now. Glittering deep blue tail rose from the waters and fell back down, splashing it into his face. He laughed out as hand caressed his chest.

"I won't forget," ocean around him sang and he knew she was gone. Yet he waited for another ten minutes, hoping to see a glimpse of her hair or tail and only then he swam back to the shore. There he stretched out on the white sand, letting the last rays of sun to dry his clothes. New tattoo on his inner thigh prickled his skin as he listened to the song that was carried on the waves about the red-hair prince with fire in eyes and little mermaid that fell in love on first sight.