#im already terrified of feeling like my life is delayed or im behind n running out of time. don’t rub it in

[binders-and-beanies]

Actually. As much as I laugh at myself for being “””old””” and call myself a grandpa/uncle/elder gay and laugh along when ppl dunk on me for being older than other college students. It does get to me sometimes bc it’s like hey there’s a reason it took me longer than you guys actually.

You people have no idea how hard I had to fight to be able to go to college let alone make it to grad school. Pointing and laughing nonstop at the disabled guy who’s still in school at 26 is not as funny as you think it is actually. (It’s also so normal to be in college Especially grad school at any age + 26 is young but that’s another discussion.)

Not to mention I’m insecure enough abt being surrounded by people younger than me as a disabled bi man who has to watch my every move so closely for fear of being labeled a pedophile for existing in public where kids and younger adults may be. The occasional joke among friends is all well and good but maybe let me live bc I’m fucking trying over here

[erismerald]

𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 (Norman x Fem!reader)

Go read the all book on my wattpad!!! And btw im requests were gonna be always one from now, so if u are a weebe send me ur request please!!

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼:  Fluff and a bit hot oop/ manga spoilers/          

                      ━━━━━━ ━━━━━━◇◆◇━━━━━━ ━━━━━━

A year and 11 months ago you and the rest of the children of Grace field had run away in search of a way to escape to the human world, during this time you were hiding in a hiding place where you had the opportunity to meet a lot of other children with the same interest as you, and your family only grew and you could see the happiness on their faces.

Emma was your best friend since you were kids, you, she, Ray and Norman, were about two years and a few months younger than them and they were like older brothers to you, besides taking care of you were your best friends but... Unfortunately the affection and love you felt for Norman was different, a few years ago you had feelings for him but you preferred to hide it because you knew it wasn't right and that he liked Emma so you preferred to retract your feelings for him and you preferred to see his happiness next to Emma which was a better choice.

In the last months you lived on a farm, you felt you could lose them at any moment and the moment you knew Norman had been "ordered" you felt your heart break, the tears in your eyes didn't stop, you didn't want him to leave, you didn't want to lose him, you preferred to be taken away than him.

The night they parted was hard, it was the night you finally revealed your feelings for him.

*flash back*

You walked down the hallway slowly, your legs were shaking a lot, your breathing was accelerated and your chest hurt. You stopped in front of the door of the room where Norman was, took your hand and went lightly to the door, waiting for an answer from the other side.

"You can come in!" he said on the other side of the door, you took another deep breath and thought about what you would say to him... I had to admit that you loved him before you lost him forever.

"Excuse me! Norman... can we talk?" you said facing the ground, you could already feel the tears running down your face, Norman realized and tried to get closer to comfort you but you stopped him "No! I can't face you... it may sound stupid but not even at the last moment that I'll be with you I can't face you" you said laughing nervously

"Y/N... I will miss you, I.... only want you to run away and that my death is not in vain, neither can I face you... Nor Emma-" you interrupted him, embracing his body with strength

"I CAN'T FACE YOU BECAUSE I'M ABOUT TO LOSE THE PERSON I LOVE MOST IN MY LIFE.... I LOVE YOU NORMAN ... I wanted you to know this before you leave... I know you love Emma but this is my last chance to talk to you and tell you things with sincerity!" you said letting the tears fall.

"Y-Y/n... I'm sorry I can't be with you... I'm sorry you had to hide your feelings for so long... I really am sorry, I really love Emma, and I love you and Ray and everyone here, but I have to use my life to get you the chance to run away from here"

Silence was installed... you only felt his body embracing yours, caressing your back, until the moment you saw the person you most loved leaving in the midst of darkness.

Your body moved on its own, you ran to the forest not to run but to be alone, my body was freezing, your voice was so deep from screaming, among hiccups you shouted his name for him to hear you, until your body finally fell from exhaustion.

*end of flashback*

Emma walked ahead, together with Ray trying to find a new way and a safe place after the destruction of the shelter, you were worried about christ who hadn't woken up yet, and his health seemed weak and fragile, you feared the worst, but you had to be positive, you walked a little faster to reach your two best friends.

"So we know where we are going?" you asked Ray 

"We're not just going to follow the tracks again.... maybe we'll go towards one of the 7 walls, we have to try our luck" Emma responded positively until she stopped abruptly, heard if screams someone was being attacked, without delay you three ran towards the voices in aid.

When we ran into the scene of two teenagers surrounded by wild demons, we had to help them, so we prayed in arms and without delay, we killed those horrible monsters.

The children looked terrified but... what would two children be in the middle of the forest? where would they have come from?

"THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU FOR Saving Us, WE THINKED WE WILL DIE" one of them shouted, causing Ray a little discomfort because he didn't want to call attention to more enemies.

"Yes, yes, but please keep your voices down, we don't want to bring attention to ourselves!" Ray said

The light-haired boy examined us and in a flash his eyes looked like they were shining:

" IT'S YOU!YOU ARE THE CATTLE KIDS WHO ESCAPE FROM GRACE FILED, WE COME TO FIND YOU, BY COMMAND OF OUR BOSS" he said smiling, Emma and you exchanged glances, 'looking for us?' you thought while you waited for Emma to answer if

"Ahm who is your boss?" Emma asked with fear? could they really trust them?

"WILLIAM MINERVA" your world stopped a smile brutalized in your lips we had finally found it! You had finally found the person who would help you return to the human world.

A few hours passed and those two took you to a hiding place inside a tree, it was an incredible place, there were lots of children there. 'so William minerva always exists' you thought while you were enjoying the environment it was really wonderful, you could feel the joy of the children being there, your family would finally have a place to live in peace.

"The boss wants to see you then come this way," one of the boys said, showing us the way.

We got to a door that would probably lead to an office, you were nervous, you felt your tummy turning, as if you were about to vomit from excitement, the door was knocked and inside there was a male voice "Come in".

The door opened revealing a white-haired figure, his crystalline blue eyes, and his sweet smile... you felt the tears flowing down your face, you couldn't believe you were standing in front of him, how? why? how did he get here? so many questions invaded your head leaving you paralyzed in front of that door.

Emma ran towards the figure in front of us "NORMAN!!" his voice showed relief and nostalgia, they both embraced "Hi Emma" Norman said in a sweet voice, it was like living a dream, Ray approached Norman, but his reaction was not the same as Emma's, Ray raised his hand and the slap Norman's face, and then hugged him. ... you admit that you got a little jealous and put yourself behind the children so that no one could see you and you left without anyone knowing... The memory that you expressed your feelings to Norman at his last moment in Grace Field, the relief you were feeling for him being alive and the anger that you couldn't face him and embrace him filled your thoughts and so did you as you walked through the streets until you reached the exit door of the hiding place. You wanted to be a little alone, that was a lot of information to assimilate, so you went out into the forest.

*Norman P.O.V.*

It was wonderful to be with them all again, still in Ray and Emma's embrace I looked at the people around us... my beloved family, I detached myself from the embrace and felt the children all running towards me, screaming my name.

"It's so good to see you again, and good to see the new members of our family, welcome to you all." I examined the faces of each of them, but someone was missing. Y/n, the panic took over and me, I looked around quickly but I didn't see her, what happened to her?

"Emma, Ray?" They both turned their attention to me and their expressions changed when they saw the panic on my face "Where is Y/n?" I asked and Emma smiled~ "It's right here" she looked around but realized she wasn't there "Where is she? she was right behind me!" she said but a white-haired boy interrupted her~

"She went out, while you were hugging, she ran away and ran out" He said, what happened? Wasn't she happy to see me? The memory of her confession came back to my mind like a flash, I felt my face heat up a little, she still couldn't face me, I have to go find her.

"I'll go look for her, stay here I won't be long, so please go explore the surroundings, and eat something, I bet you're hungry," I said with a gentle smile as I hugged her again and left the room toward the exit to look for her.

*Y/n POV*

You didn't know how long you had been sitting there on that rock, looking at nothing, you felt the cold of the night passing through your back making your whole body shiver, until you sneezed.

You heard a noise of branches breaking, and immediately you looked up and turned your body back, a cloak figure was standing behind you, you got scared and fell off the rock banging your ass on the ground.

"Auch" you said caressing your sore ass with the fall~

"Sorry! Are you ok?" this voice... what would he do here? you look ahead and you saw him kneeling in front of you with his hand on top of yours, he had grown so much... he was really more attractive than he was, his more evolved body, his voice, his height, but those eyes never changed, you stared at his eyes for a while until you saw his face being painted pink and turning his gaze away from yours, immediately after that reaction you turned your face to the side.

"Y-yes i am, I'm sorry I just got scared because I didn't know you were there" you said in a calm and nervous voice

"I came looking for you... you disappeared when you saw me... I thought you missed me..." he said with a sad expression making your heart race... 'he came after me?' you thought by taking a deep breath

"Of course I was... I just didn't know how to react, just like all the others I thought you'd died that night." You took a short pause "Look, I'm sorry I ran away..." He looked directly at you, you were paralyzed, you felt your face warm, his gaze hypnotized you.

"I missed you... that night I... I wanted to hold you and not let go anymore... I didn't want to leave, I wanted to feel you against me, I wanted you to fall asleep in my lap, I wanted you never to cry again" you felt the tears fall on your face, his hand went up to your face, and wiped the tears that were trying to come out.

His touch was different, he was more adult, he wasn't the same innocent child two years ago, he was more mature, his thumb stroked your cheek and his hand put the strands of hair (H/c) behind your ear.

"I missed your look, your company, and I'm sorry I only realized my feelings for you after I left... I waited every day for you, for the day when I would be able to see your gaze again" he paused taking himself and pulling you with him, you were hypnotized by him, you couldn't, nor wanted, to move "Let me touch you, let me hug you. ... let me kiss you, I want to feel you, my love, I want to feel you close to me and this time I will not let go of you, my love I want to take care of you, be mine" his words were like whispers, his gaze penetrated yours, his thumb ran across your face until it reached your lips, caressing them down to your jawline lifting it.

Lightly his lips touched your neck, letting you still, you felt his breath making you tremble under his touch, he laughed softly, without realizing it he pushed your body back, leaning against a tree, his hand went down to your waist and another wandered between your neck and your face, his gaze screamed for your attention, he missed you too much and did not want to let you go without being able to touch you again. Your hands moved to his neck and to his chest, pulling him towards you, slowly you put yourself on tiptoes and kissed him lightly, the kiss began calmly but gradually became more fierce.

His hand that was on your waist went up to your neck, keeping you still under his control, it seemed like a dream, you felt your breaths accelerated and you couldn't calm down.

The two panting separated, he looked at you with a gentle smile and pulled you to his horse, stopping in front of you forcing you to look at him, his eyes were dangerous.

No word was said on the way to the hiding place, when we got there he helped you out of the horse and gave it to a boy, both walked side by side until they reached the cafeteria, where he before opening the door stood behind you with his hands on your shoulders and came close to your ear making you shiver. "I'm glad I learned to control myself, otherwise I don't know what I would have done with you behind, maybe you can find out later Love" his voice makes you blush violently, he opens the door and smiles like nothing, but his gaze changed when he saw you again, he was eager to have you in his arms again.

[iphoenixrising]

I did not expect people to want more of the thing *shrugs* 

Thank-you for the comments on my assholery with cliff hangers @txbookeater​, I love you too babe <3. So much love to electra-iphigenie, emjalen, ships-lover, and @chibinightowl​ for talking up that post. Based on this thing. Warning for triggering themes. Be aware of good boyfriending, kink negotiations, and mentions of past sexual assault. 

Proceed at your own risk 

He takes in a breath, blank for a second, his brain catching up. “Could it possibly be in the bathroom before I get in a nice, hot shower? Followed by a few hours of unconsciousness? That would be really amazing right about now.”

Deflection is an art form, and he really is a master.  He shrugs off his bag, gives him an opportunity to turn away, aware of eyes and how he’s dragging ass, feeling off and irritable. His brain doesn’t have to keep moving from one thing to the next, and things are slowing down. A shudder runs like cold fingers down his spine.

“I think I’d rather ya do it right here, Tim,” and there’s no Sweets, Baby, or any other endearments to make this easier on him. Nope. 

(It’s fine. Breathe. Just some bruises. They’ve seen worse, had worse. They’re all adults here.)

“Jay, I am tired–” “You’re looking shaky, a little strung out.” Dick, at least, makes it gentle. “And I saw it already, so we both know. I’d rather see the damage without your shirt in the way.” “Then, we’re gonna talk ‘bout why ya didn’t tell us right away.” “Mmhm, we might need to have another talk about the rules when we play.” “You’re blowing this out of proportion,” he argues gently, rubbing his hands and wrists because his fingers are tingling. “We had a play date, and by the time I was getting...you know, sore, I was already at work, you were on patrol–” “You didn’t say a word about it to me,” Dick cuts in, “and you absolutely should have. Now, I’m wondering if you really do know your limits, and if I can trust you enough to stop us when you need to.” “I...I didn’t–” yes. Yes I did.

It’s as simple as breathing in too sharply, his ears suddenly ringing, and there’s rubber in his mouth, his teeth probably cutting into it, and it hurts. Normally, he’s okay with rough and multiple rounds, loves how they get when they need control, to feel like there’s something in their hands that can’t just be taken away. 

He gets it. Loves that their go-to outlet for it...is him. 

Even if he can’t come again, it still usually feels amazing, and crazy in his brain because they want him this much. Really, he loves them. 

(The bell clenched in his fist is making an indent in his palm. His chest constricts, just like last time, but he can at least gasp through the holes in the gag. So he doesn’t need to drop it. He wants to. It hurts and he wants to, but he doesn’t. He can take it. He’s had worse. This is for them.) 

Neither of them noticed it had gone from amazing to uncomfortable to painful, and he didn’t drop the bell. He didn’t tell them to stop, so really, it’s on him isn’t it?

Bile rushes up his throat, bringing him back to the very real present where Dick and Jay are suddenly really close, and he realizes he’s just sitting in Dick’s lap, shaking like a leaf.

His face is wet, his chest hitching. 

He doesn’t puke, so that is about a million points.

But, he is absolutely falling the utter fuck apart and that just isn’t conducive to his attempt at coming home to snuggle and pass out in blissful unconsciousness.

(This is his life. Seriously.)

“Shit, shit, shit,” the first attempt to move is right out the window because he’s on octopus hold lockdown.

(On one hand it feels nice to be held. On the other, he can’t escape and it feels restrictive, stifling, terrifying.)

“Hey, hey, Baby. Lookey here. That’s it, that’s good.” Jay is rubbing palms up and down the top of his calves, up to his knees and down to his ankles. He’s talking low and gentle. “I’m going ta the kitchen, n’ getcha some water. Then, we’re gonna talk ‘bout what’s doing, you feel me? If me and Dickie are gonna be able ta take care a’ ya, then we gotta know what’s in yer head.”

He’s breathing too hard, too fast, his hearing spotty at best.

“Ssshhh. You’re having a panic attack, Timmy. You’re hyperventilating, so I need for you to calm down now, okay?” 

Then Dick’s chest is under his tingling fingers, and the exaggerated breathing helps him slow it down, take back some of the control over his body.

He doesn’t feel like he’s going to pass out or puke, so the day is looking up. 

The absurdity of that thought it the thing that really makes him laugh, the sound hoarse, choked. 

“Okay, okay, you’re doing good, Timmy, just stay with me,” and he didn’t notice when Dick started rocking back-and-forth in a soothing motion, or when Jay got back and slid a hand around the nape of his neck.

He’s still shaky as fuck, curled up against Dick’s warmth, and fuck is he cold and wrung out. It feels like a high fever, joints achy, brain foggy, reaction time slow.

“...it’s a fucking drop, Dick. Look at ‘im!” “I’ve never heard of a delayed response like this.” “Knew we shoulda waiting ta scene. He went right from bed ta the pressure cooker, Dick.” “I should have picked up on it when I went to see him.” “S’all right, least we know what ta do now,” and Jay bends, pulls and lifts him like he isn’t a full grown man, pulling him in tight. “Need ta getcha all warm n’ snuggled, don’t we, Baby?”

Dick is throwing back the covers, but Tim doesn’t want to get in bed, not smelling like antiseptic and and bleach, but being warm, being able to hide his face in the pillow is really appealing.

He nods in Jay’s shoulder and lets just the scrub top be pulled off, leaving him in the nerd shirt underneath. He’s glad for it, already vulnerable, cold, shaky.

A straw to his mouth from no where and water before hands are helping him scoot over gingerly in the middle before flopping down on his good side with two warm vigilantes like bookends. Gentle circles on his back while Dick snakes an arm under his head, pulls him closer. 

“All right, that’s better.”

That hand hits a tender spot, and the flinch is automatic. “Sorry, Timmy. Once yer all warm, we’ll lookit how bad, yeah? Gonna lemme see, and it’s gonna be all right. S’ just me n’ Dickie.”

It’s awful because the two wrapped around him is fucking close to perfect and he isn’t feeling as shitty as he was at the ominous picture they made when he first walked in, and yeah, yeah, maybe it was stupid to try hiding it from them. He’s fuzzy about it, but he’s pretty sure that’s a rule somewhere in the Do’s and Don’ts for Playtime talk. 

He probably going to get a lecture. Possibly two.

“Sorry,” he finally says, voice stronger because his throat doesn’t feel like raw hamburger anymore. “I...that wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t know why it was bad, but I’m s–”

“The only thing that would make me angry right now is if you apologize again,” Dick follows it up with scritches to take the sting out of it. “Something triggered you to have a severe drop, Timmy, and if you could tell us what happened, it would help us to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Can you understand that? We need to know so we don’t accidentally hurt you?”

He goes still and his chest hurts just a little.

“I...I should have safeworded out,” it hurts to say, “I sh-should have dropped it, but I thought I could take it, and then things got weird and my brain just, and I thought if I did it would be weak and-and you didn’t need that, and I-I just. I’m sore and it hurt and I didn’t– it’s my fault, okay. I should have because I know that’s a rule somewhere.”

and he keeps babbling on, rambling with his eyes getting hot and his vigilante boyfriends petting him, rocking with him, letting everything just pour out of him without stopping him or pulling away, just–

Dealing with his special brand of insanity. (Those darn abandonment issues. Golly, some day he won’t feel like his chest is being ripped open viciously with fear they’re going to walk the fuck out of his life and never come back.)

He’s finally talked out, feeling like ass about fucking up their morning.

“Your color is coming back, that’s good.” “Warmed all up, Dickie. Time ta tell it like it is.” Well. Shit.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” and he blinks up out of Dick’s chest with his eyes still puffy and his side tender, those blue eyes dark with something hard to interpret.

“I’m not happy you didn’t tell us immediately because we agreed to communicate about these things. D&S can be scarring, and this is just an example of how people get hurt.” 

“And I’m going to say this now so you understand how important it is. About the fact you didn’t safeword.” Dick’s chest expands, hitches, “You need to know, you’re not only protecting yourself when you do, but you’re protecting us, too.”

“I don’t–”

“Tim. I’ve been sexually assaulted several times, and you know that. So... knowing I hurt you that way makes me sick inside, okay. Can you– can you understand that?”

“I-I fuck, Dick, I’m–” “Please don’t say it. No more sorries. But, it’s important you understand Jay and I have our own traumas, so if you, not us, want to keep trying this, we have to navigate more carefully.”

Behind him, Jay’s forehead is nestled in the dip at the base of his neck, and a hard breath whistles down the back of his shirt. 

He despairs inside at how Dick and Jay must be feeling, how bad it looked to them that Tim hadn’t come clean, hadn’t safeworded at all. “I fucked up. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

Dick presses a gentle kiss in his hair, and Jay nuzzles against his throat. 

He gets more sips of water and eventually a panini and soup. There’s more cuddles and warmth, more talk that sucks the breath out of them all. 

His head wraps around the rules differently this time, taking careful note of the way Dick’s expression gets shuddered and Jay goes still. He assures them he still does want playtime sometimes, shoots down the notion he’s only doing it for them, tells them that when his brain is too full and he needs to give up control, he doesn’t want to do it with anyone else but them. 

He realizes it’s because somewhere, he knows they’ll take care of him...if he lets them.

Then his shirt comes off so the deep bruises can have Alfred’s magical concoction spread over. His cheeks are pink when he’s laid out on his stomach with the scrub pants tossed off the bed. Soft praise while he’s spread open by gentle hands to make sure he’s not torn. Bruised and sore yeah, but nothing too awful. He gets a pair of Dick’s cut-off sweatpants that still hit him below the knee and one of Jay’s shirts that he practically swims in, but he feels about a million times better just wearing their clothes.

And when they’re careful with him for the next few days, when love making is tender and slow, when touches are easy with his bruises in mind, when everything is verbal and consent is crucial, he make more of an effort to stomp down the urges to push his limits, push himself. He stomps down on those stupid recriminations and uncertainties, tries to remember that these two could be literally anywhere else in the world, and yet, here they are at his side.

He gets to have vigilantes bleeding on his fire escape, and the men under the mask in his bed, in his shower, in his kitchen, in his life. 

The next scene he yellows, gets a much needed pause before they continue, and the aftercare is truly a thing of beauty.

[wolfqueen-is-here]

Kisses Remembered, Kisses Forgotten (Jonsa Secret Santa 2018)

Dearest @moonchildslife, I am so sorry for my delay, Christmas was crazier than I expected, and I didn’t finish my gift on time. But it is here now, and I hope you don’t find it too terrible ;). I wish you a wonderful year with Jonsa becoming canon in April and our fandom wishes coming true. Be happy, be healthy, be yourself! <3

Many thanks to @jonsasecretsanta2018 who made all of this happen, you truly are amazing!

  A/N Don’t be alarmed by a brief mention of the Hound. I promise you, it has nothing to do with SanSan in any way except mentioning The Un-Kiss. Book!canon, but mostly show!canon, can be interpreted both as a filler and an AU. 2300 words

  Kisses Remembered, Kisses Forgotten

Every now and then Sansa remembers, even though she has tried so hard to leave the past behind. The Hound was rough and scary, but the kiss that he took left a lingering taste on her lips—it was as soft as snow, almost familiar, she’s caught herself missing the shy affection that came with the kiss, a wary touch so vulnerable it felt almost childish. She remembers the kiss that he took. The only thing she doesn’t remember is him taking it.

Every night feels longer and darker than the former ones. It isn’t until she jumps from Winterfell walls that she remembers how to feel warm again, but the road north is as cold as ice and covered in snow. “His lips felt warm”, she thinks as she runs towards her freedom. “The kiss that he took, it felt warm.”

There are times when she is almost certain that she gave it willingly.

 —

“You look cold,” Jon says after staring at her in silence for a good half an hour. It would annoy her beyond reason, were it anyone else, anyone less trustworthy, anyone less… Jon, but coming from him it’s almost flattering. No one has ever cared for her so since she’d lost Father. Not once until this very moment has she felt safe since then.

“I’m okay,” she smiles. His unblinking eyes refuse to leave hers even for a second as if she’d vanish otherwise. Sansa leans towards him and strokes the inside of his palm with her thumb. It’s the most innocent of caresses, but it makes Jon stiffen and finally lower his head. She misses the stare instantly. “I’m okay, Jon.”

She tastes his name on her tongue. It feels rough—when was the last time she used it? —but sweeter than all the cake she’s ever had. She wants to swallow it, possess it, make it hers. “Jon,” she muses. “Jon. My Jon.”

If it’s something more primal than sisterly affection, she doesn’t recognise it in time. It may occur to her later, but it will be too late.

 —

The first night that she spends at Castle Black is a sleepless one. The shadows are long when she paces aimlessly around the room, too exhausted to fall asleep, too cold to lie still. Knocking at the door alerts her at first—she’s not used to feeling safe yet—she whispers: “Who’s there?” so quietly as if she were hoping nobody would answer.

“It’s me,” Jon says.

She lets him in.

“Do you have everything that you need?” he asks, looking at her with a strange longing.

Had it been more fitting, she’d say: “I have you,” but in their current situation she’d stumble over the words for certain. Instead, she just invites him to stay—just sit next to her and not talk until the sun rises and the shadows go back under her bed. They repeat it every night after that, it seems to comfort both of them.

 —

Jon’s eyes follow Sansa as he tries to find something—anything—that would remind him of a little girl she used to be. Her skirts dance when she rocks her hips, walking around Castle Black like she’d lived here all her life. He wants to avert his gaze but finds it impossible. She’s grown so tall, so slender—so beautiful.

“She’s your sister,” he thinks angrily, hiding his face in his hands. “You are not allowed to look at her like that.”

There were times, many lives ago, when they were only children. Sansa’s hair was more orange than auburn, Jon’s face—smooth, not a trace of beard or scars on it. They both called lord Eddard Stark their father. They both walked around holding Robb’s hand. They both watched Bran fall asleep while they were singing lullabies. Both, yes, but not—together.

When he tries to think about their lives before everything happened, before he went north and she went south, he keeps coming back to that one particular memory. And he’s not allowed to remember it. Not ever.

“She’s your sister,” he thinks, but as her lips move while she’s telling him another story, he watches. The redness of them almost provocative, they look like she’s been biting them for the past few hours. It’s a mesmerising set of colours: her lips with a raspberry tint, screaming to be tasted, licked, devoured; her eyes, deep blue almost exactly like the ones that used to follow him with disdain when he was nothing more than a bastard boy, but there’s no disdain in Sansa’s eyes, only hope. Her fair complexion contrasts with the dark streaks of her auburn hair, almost brown in the dimly lit room. Jon quashes the need to cup Sansa’s cheek and stroke it with his fingers, to check if her soft, unwavering beauty isn’t only a product of his hallucinations. He wouldn’t dare.

 —

Sansa enters the dining room when there’s barely anyone left. A few wildlings share a horn of ale, laughing. There’s also Edd sitting in the furthest, darkest corner, and he looks really down—Edd always looks down, that’s an inherent part of his personality, “The defining part”, Tormund insists, but Sansa doesn’t care, because Edd, albeit rather shy, is kind and caring, and that’s more than she could expect from a stranger. The wildlings terrify her still, she doesn’t know their customs, they’re far too loud and bold for her taste, so she chooses to cross the room and take a sit in front of Edd.

They don’t talk, there’s no need for it. Sansa eats her soup, wondering whether Jon has already eaten, and Edd just keeps staring at the ceiling. Weirdly, his silent presence comforts Sansa more than any words could.

When everybody leaves, Sansa reaches for Edd’s half-empty horn and moves her hand up and down its uneven surface. It’s become apparent these past few days that sleep refuses to come easily for her at Castle Black, and when she finally drifts off after hours of rolling over from side to side, her dreams are filled with memories—but are they real? Are they hers?

She doesn’t think about the Hound that often. He’s been a big part of her life when she was a prisoner in King’s Landing, but her fascination with his tragic story faded and went by long ago. She cannot remember his face anymore, only the scars, she doesn’t even know if she’d be glad to see him again. The memories of him and the torments from the Lannisters became too inseparable in her mind, and that’s why she doesn’t want to think of him or imagine their meeting.

Not now. Not ever.

Then why is her brain so set on bringing back the memory of the kiss? She can feel a sweet breath on her chin every morning when she wakes up from her blurry dreams—why is it sweet? Wasn’t the Hound monumentally drunk that night?—she can taste it, again and again. Her first kiss, that one thing she knows for sure. She’d gotten a few pecks from Joffrey, yes, they should probably count as first, but somehow it doesn’t feel right.

She closes her eyes and clasps her hands around the horn.

“I thought you weren’t fond of our ale,” Jon says, suddenly very close—how did he get so close without Sansa hearing his steps? Did she black out again?

“I heard it helps to forget.”

“It does,” his voice sounds worried, “for a while. It doesn’t make your past go away.”

Sansa raises her head and their eyes lock immediately as if they’re a couple of lovers always on a mission to find each other.

“For a while,” she repeats. “Sounds better than never.”

The ale tastes much worse than she remembered it—it’s bitter and stale, and reeks of old, damp barrels—but her lips don’t leave the edge of the horn until it’s empty. Jon’s eyes move to her throat as she swallows and stay there even after she’s finished.

At first, she doesn’t think anything’s changed—the same emptiness fills her, the same desperation—but minutes pass as they sit opposite one another in silence, and her head finally starts to feel both lighter and heavier, her thoughts stir inside her brain, but never fully form. It’s a bliss. It’s a curse.

She sits in the middle of a meadow, it’s late summer. The winds got chilly but she’s got a blanket around her arms. She’s knitted it herself. She’s content. She’s happy. She’s Queen Naerys Targaryen.

“Are you alright? That’s quite a lot of ale you just inhaled,” Jon murmurs, gently touching her arm. Sansa looks up and smiles at him.

“I’ll be fine,” she answers. “I’ll be fine, Jon. You can go to sleep, you look tired.”

He laughs hoarsely and it makes Sansa’s belly tighten.

“Not until I see you safely tucked under your furs.”

He approaches her with his back straight and a sword at his side. Where did he get that sword, she thinks briefly but continues to look at his beaming face.

“I’ve come to rescue you, my Queen.”

“You can’t, my love,” she says, remembering to dress her face in the deepest, most regal shade of sadness. “We’re bound to our fate forever. You’ve made your vows, as I have made mine.”

He kneels before her. He’s brave, he’s gentle, he’s strong. He’s Prince Aemon the Dragonknight.

Sansa tries to stand up all too quickly, her head spins violently and she has to hold on to the table to avoid falling. She can barely feel her legs and her arms—how strong was that ale?—but the burning hotness of Jon’s hand on her lower back, oh, that she feels.

“Careful,” he says, pulling her closer and throwing her arm around his neck. “You’re still much too weak to start drinking so heavily. Don’t let go, alright? I’m going to walk you to your chambers now.”

And he proceeds to do just that.

When Sansa lies in bed feeling truly sleepy for the first time since she’s reached Castle Black on her dying horse, she suddenly remembers everything.

His face is just inches away. He’s wearing his hair pulled tightly in the back like a true adult, but he’s been playing with swords all day and a few strands have escaped the knot, hanging loosely around his face. She feels the urge to curl one of them around her finger but before she decides to make a move, he leans in and kisses her on the lips.

It surprises her—the lightness of it as much as the act itself. “It’s not wrong as long as I’m Queen Naerys and he’s Prince Aemon,” she tells herself as she involuntarily moves closer and exhales into his warm mouth. His fingers wander up and down her sleeve, curious but never inappropriate. The kiss doesn’t last long, a few heartbeats maybe, but before it’s finished, she can hear him whisper: “Sansa.”

And instantly he’s Jon again, and she’s Sansa. And they’ve done something unforgivable.

 —

Jon’s almost asleep when he hears banging at his door. He jumps out of bed and rushes to open it only to find a breathless Sansa on the other side. Her eyes are wide, and she looks absolutely terrified. If she’s still a bit in her cups, it doesn’t show.

“What happened?” he asks.

She’s shivering. He wants to put his hand on her arm but she jumps away.

“You kissed me,” she hisses, her tone accusatory.

Jon blinks. Not that he hasn’t thought of it, because of course he has. He won’t admit it to anyone but though he tried extremely hard to see his long-lost sister in the beauty that has brought him back to life, he failed miserably. The truth is—she was never a sister to him, not even before they parted ways.

“I assure you,” he answers quietly, “I did not. I didn’t even enter your chambers, I asked lady Brienne to help.”

“Not tonight,” Sansa sighs and Jon realises she’s standing before him barefoot, dressed only in some old sleeping gown, but somehow she’s never looked more queenly with her demanding expression and fiery glare. “When we were children. A few months before we left Winterfell. We played… we played, and you…”

And he kissed her.

He kissed her and he never regretted it once until she came to him, crying, and ordered him to forget it ever happened. He didn’t want to, it was too precious a memory, but he obliged. For Sansa.

“I thought we weren’t speaking of it,” he whispers carefully.

She was really shook when she came to him that day, he never wanted to see Sansa cry, and to be the reason for her despair—it was too much for him to bear.

“We aren’t. I just… I forgot.”

“You forgot?” he asks, feeling hurt. It was his only kiss before Ygritte and he wasn’t even allowed to savour that memory. How could she have forgotten?

“I’m sorry,” she says. “What we did… it was wrong. I didn’t… I couldn’t… I think I repressed it. I made myself believe it happened with someone else.” She lowers her head and he’s afraid to spook her by asking who that person was, but he’s certain it will haunt him forever. Was it Joffrey? Gods, he hopes it wasn’t him. Jon couldn’t bear it. Sansa makes a strangled noise at the back of her throat. “But I remember now.”

He doesn’t know what more to say, but Sansa doesn’t seem to expect any kind of explanation. It happened. It shouldn’t have, but it did. And it changed things between them.

Sansa finally dares to look at him. Her lips are parted, ready as they were in that meadow years ago. He doesn’t take advantage of her vulnerability. When they win back Winterfell, when the war is over—she will come to him of her own volition.

And he will have that second kiss, gods be damned.