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starsofang · 2 months

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TOUCH OF MAGIC

You form an unusual bond with a mysterious dark wizard who comes knocking at your door, writhing in the hands of death.

Witch!Female Reader x Dark Wizard!Soap TW: NSFW, MDNI, dead dove do not eat (kind of), smut, fingering, p in v sex, dirty talk, dark themes, witchcraft/magic, horror themes?, mentions of death, heed the tags please Word Count: 7.5k A/N: i'm not good at writing soap's accent therefore i barely tried. there are also witch inaccuracies, of course, because this is fiction. it's for fun, so enjoy! divider by saradika

The forest was harmonious outside your home, the summer leaves shifting to crisp fall, morphing the tall trees into hues of red and orange. It carried a bleak chill with the breeze that infiltrated your cottage through the cracked windows, allowing for fresh air to breathe.

You always loved when autumn made its appearance. It was when the Earth’s energy was at its peak, so much so that you could feel the rumbling vibrations echo through the soles of your feet.

The gorgeous display of the forest making its seasonal changes, the animals coming out to enjoy the hint of the summer heat fading, the spirits of the Earth growing stronger. It was a witch’s dream.

However, this time felt different. There was a certain shift in the air when you’d first woken up that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was a whisper in the wind, barely knowledgeable, but it was present, and it was dark.

Its shift arose goosebumps along your skin, even as you engulfed yourself in the steamy water of your shower. They lingered even as you slipped into the kitchen to make yourself breakfast. Then they grew tenfold when you entered your workspace, where even your cat appeared on edge.

Something was coming, and you knew not what to expect.

Taking a sip from your warm mug of rose tea, you collapsed at your cluttered desk, encasing yourself a fuzzy bear fur shawl to shoo away the biting chill creeping in your home.

Sensing your presence, your cat hopped up on your desk, tail swaying lazily in the air as he approached you. His nose bumped against the rim of your mug that sat on your desk, eyes peering into the murky liquid.

Sitting up and curling the fur securely around you, you peeked down into the mug with him, before it dawned on you. With the mysterious aura littering your air, you could read the tea leaves and get a glimpse of what the day may have in store for you.

Quickly gulping down the rest of the tea, you were considerate to leave the slightest amount of liquid in the cup. For the next few moments, you began carefully sifting around the mug, rotating it to and fro with your eyes closed so as not to catch a glimpse.

Your cat sat in front of you, yellow eyes watching with peak interest. When you opened your eyes, you were met with a peculiar glint in his slitted pupils that indicated he felt the strange energy as well.

Peering down in your mug, you took in the scattered tea leaves, attempting to get a read. You felt as if your eyes were deceiving you.

In place of the tea leaves was the silhouette of a man, slightly blurred by the dirty water. There was no telling of who or what this man was, but you knew the implications and you feared you were reading your own leaves wrong.

A man meant a visitor, though it was unclear whether or not it would be in vain. It explained the shift you felt, yes, but you were not one for visitors. Your cottage was far from civilization, and you were not acquainted with other witches and wizards of the merry. You preferred isolated practice, where one would not be able to interrupt.

Unease pricked under your skin, causing those goosebumps to rise all over again. You knew now it wasn’t the mere chill of your home causing them, but the presence of a newcomer. An unwelcome one at that.

You were smart enough to have set up protection charms when first moving into your home many years ago. While you were far from the strongest witch, you were experienced and well-trained. You had plenty of knowledge from years and years of studies. It was engraved in your blood, coursing through you. You knew what you were doing.

However, this energy was dark. Gloomy. It showed no intent, yet that was the issue. Its intentions were unknown, so you couldn’t rule out foul play, nor could you trust it was genuine.

You could do nothing but wait. Cooped up in your study, crafting up various charms needed in the event you’d have to protect yourself, keeping all on hand for when your arrival approached.

The day came and went, the golden sun slowly falling behind the treeline of the forest and struggling to peek through the leaves. Your home was losing sunlight, forcing you to light all rooms with candles.

The energy was stronger. It invaded your nostrils with a sickeningly sweet scent mixed with the smell of rotting flesh. It threatened to block your train of thought. It was intoxicating while simultaneously repulsing, and you quickly rid yourself of the trance with a sniff of some putrid frog’s breath.

It was enough to leave you gagging, returning to your senses. The scent in the air was briefly forgotten, allowing the prickle of nerves to dissipate.

Curling up on your couch with the mysterious energy temporarily out of your mind, you cuddled up with your fluffy familiar, slipping into a peaceful slumber that was much needed after the tension that had sickened you all morning and noon.

A knock on your door woke you from your place on the sofa. Your cat was nowhere to be found, and when you sat up, you found him sitting in front of the front door, tail tapping on the floor.

He wasn’t alarmed, nor was he calm. He seemed impatient, eager, as if wanting to welcome the newcomer.

You were cautious when approaching your door. You had a stranger on your grounds, and every spirit in you was telling you to run, to leave, hide. Whoever was on the other side was a dangerous force, one that you shouldn’t meddle with.

However, it was rude not to greet him. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. It was the perks and downfall of being a light witch. Being unfriendly was difficult to act on. It was entirely why you preferred living far from humans and witches alike.

Upon opening the door, it was a fright. It was a man, surely. He was clothed in dark robes, loose on his body as it fluttered to the ground. On his face, a red skull mask sat, leaving only his mouth and jaw displayed. He was rather tall, yet his posture was hunched, as if in pain.

It was then you noticed the line of veins along his skin. Black, swirling up his forearms and disappearing under his sleeves. They traveled up to his neck, where his skin was exposed, fanning out in ugly branches. They spread from his neck to his jaw, where the ends of the veins spouted out.

Poison. The man was poisoned. It explained the rotting smell that tickled your nose, yet the sweetness that tinged it. He was decaying from the inside and out, his blackened veins proof of that.

That wasn’t the only issue.

He was a dark wizard.

His red mask was the representation of death. There was no mistaking it. All dark wizards and witches wore them in coordination with the Lords of Death. They were the exact people you’d avoided for years, and now one had been plucked right on your doorstep, injured nonetheless.

“Please leave,” you uttered, gripping the door handle tight in your grip and beginning to close the door.

Before the door shut, a veiny hand pressed back, tainted with poison in the bloodstream. His head lifted the slightest to look at you, eyes blue with the hint of crimson red. They pooled with a look of pleading.

“Wait,” the man begged. You paused in your attempts to close the door. “Please. I need yer help.”

You shook your head, knuckles white around the handle. “I don’t help dark wizards. I’m sorry.”

“Please,” he tried again. “I won’t hurt ye. I can explain everythin’, but I can’t do that if ‘m dead.”

“I have no reason to help you,” you dismissed. Everything within you was fighting with each other. A warzone in the space of your mind, battling between helping and ignoring. “You work with the dark arts. I do not. Whatever curse you’ve been poisoned with is not mine to fix.”

The man made a defeated noise, head drooping. His free hand lifted to tear the red mask off of his face, revealing himself. His forehead was coated with a heavy sheen of sweat, dripping down the sides of his temples. His skin was pale, almost ghostly gray.

The veins had not yet slithered to his face. If they did, the poison would reach his brain, rendering him dead. Though they were tiptoeing that line quite closely.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, and you really did mean it.

“Please,” he tried once more, voice cracking. “I’m not like them.”

“You’re a dark wizard,” you pressed. “You are them.”

“Not anymore.” The man looked up at you from his pained state, eyes begging. A strike of guilt hit you that you tried to dismiss, but it only festered. “That’s why I’m like— like this.”

The two of you stared at one another, your firmness beginning to falter. This was the first person you’d seen in decades, let alone another magic wielder, and though that was how you wanted it, you felt sorrow and lonely.

He wasn’t to be trusted. He was dangerous, a murderer, most likely, if he was crafting under the Lords of Death. Yet he truly was dying, and he’d succumb to the poison if you didn’t help.

You were losing your own battle, and with an exasperated squeak, you ushered him inside. He followed with a pained grunt, collapsing on to your sofa.

“There are charms all over the place,” you explained wearily. “Do no try anything stupid, clear?”

The man gave you a tight smile and a lazy thumbs up, before the veins sifted beneath his skin and he returned to wallowing in his own ache.

Leaving your trust with him stupidly, you rushed to your study to shuffle through your potions, praying you didn’t have to craft a new one. They were time consuming, and this man did not have enough of it.

Dark arts were difficult curses to deflect. Seeing as they were some of the most powerful magic in the sorcery world, the damage was lethal if not dealt with accordingly.

Luckily for you, though you were far from the strongest, you had that experience to back you up. You knew you could help him, thank Gods, but it was a matter of how quickly you could help him.

With a vial in your grasp, you hurried back to the living room, nearly stumbling on the cluttered trinkets along the ground. You made a mental note to clean up the moment he slept. You didn’t want to appear as a messy witch in the present of… well, you supposed a dark wizard, not that you should worry about his opinion.

“You must drink this,” you encouraged. Taking a seat beside his poisoned body, you popped the cork of the vial off, a brief puff of steam emitting out of the glass. You held the vial to his lips. “It may not feel well, but surely, it will be better than what you’re going through.”

The wizard’s lips parted to invite the mysterious liquid in, swallowing it down without much fight. His face twisted in distaste, coughing weakly.

“Thank ye,” he wheezed, lifting a shaky hand to wipe the residue off of his mouth.

You didn’t answer, instead standing and gesturing for him to join. “You can use my bed for the time being. It will be an unpleasant process.”

“I couldn’t ask—“

“You are already in my home. There is no more moralities. Please, follow me,” you dismissed. He let out a sigh, wincing as he got up to follow you.

Your room was about as messy as the rest of the house. You brushed aside stray clothes on the floor with your foot. Approaching your bed, you tugged back the blankets and fluffed up your pillows, nodding for him to lay down.

The wizard complied, laying down with an uncomfortable grunt. His skin was clammy yet cold to the touch as you helped gather the blankets around him, and you knew he had a heavy fever from the poison.

“Rest. The potion will take effect with time,” you said, stepping away from the bed. “We will figure the rest out later.”

The man gave you a frail smile, one of which you looked away from. Dying or not, he was still evil.

“What’s yer name?” he asked. “‘m Johnny.”

You sniffed, quickly telling him your name before leaving the room, shutting the door. You didn’t want to be present when the potion began working, to see his body fight it off, to hear how much pain he would be in. Even more, you didn’t want to be near a dark wizard who had a charming smile even near death.

Johnny didn’t wake up the next day, nor the one after. In fact, he slept for approximately a week before he called out for you.

It had you in a whirl when you heard his voice. You’d nearly forgotten he was there, though you’d tended to him nearly every hour of the day.

You gave him more than you should’ve. You were being too kind. You’d adjust his pillows, clean his paled skin with a wet cloth, pour food potions down his throat since he was unable to eat on his own. Everything you did was bordering too comfortable, too considerate.

“You’re awake,” you greeted politely, shuffling into the room. The man in question smiled widely at you.

He looked much more lively than before. Well, technically he was lively, seeing as he was dying before, but it was evident that the potion worked.

His skin, which had been a ghastly hue, was now tanned and bright. Looking closer, you could see a jagged scar along his chin, the tissue a faded pink. His eyes, that had been tarnished with red, were a lovely ocean blue, sparkling in a boyish wonder. The veins in his body that were blackened were faded into nothing, successfully returning to normal.

He was a handsome man, that was for sure. You hated that. He was an enemy, and his stay was overwelcome.

“I’m happy to see you better,” you offered with a small smile. “I am sure it was quite the terror.”

“It’s all thanks to ye, bonnie,” Johnny praised. “Wouldn’t have survived without ye.”

You cleared your throat, rubbing your neck in awkwardness. “It was nothing. Consider it a mere favor from witch to wizard, yes?”

“That was more than a favor. Can’t I repay ye somehow?” Johnny asked. You shook your head.

“That won’t be necessary. I have told you before that I don’t associate with dark wizards. I have helped you, and that’s that.”

Johnny frowned, clearly disgruntled from your lack of interest. He stood slowly from the bed, grunting at the aching muscles from laying down for a week and some. “That’s that?”

“Yes. I apologize.”

“I thought perhaps we could be pals.” The way Johnny said it had him sounding defeated, which surprised you in the slightest. To be friends with a dark wizard, especially as a light witch? Why would one want that?

“You’re mistaken,” you muttered, not unkindly. “You showed up to my doorstep, I did not ask for this. I have offered my help, and now you are better. It’s best if you return home so I can return to mine.”

It was strange, the tug of guilt that pulled at your heartstrings. It was as if a part of you wished to be friends with him. After all, he wasn’t bad looking, not in the slightest. In fact, he was dashing, and had shown you nothing but kindness.

A dark wizard being kind was unheard of. Perhaps the poison had made him forget his place. You didn’t know him, nor him you. You hadn’t a clue the horrors he probably faced or caused.

“I don’t wish to return home,” he confessed. Johnny stepped closer to you, and you took a step back. “I don’t wish to perform dark magic. I don’t wish to be a dark wizard. It’s the reason I was poisoned in the first place.”

“One does not suddenly wish to no longer be a dark wizard,” you argued. “It is in your blood.”

“Yet it seems ye’ve helped me craft new blood with that potion of yers.”

You stared at Johnny wearily. It was true, part of his body had to be restored due to the decomposition his body underwent internally, and part of that meant restoring his blood. However, you’d never heard of a case where a dark wizard wanted to be something else.

“I suppose you’re right on that part,” you sighed. “But that still doesn’t change the fact that you are a dark wizard.”

“I can try to change it,” he pleaded, and your resolve slightly cracked. He seemed to see this, because he continued. “Let me stay here for a while. I’ll do whatever ye need done around here. Like an apprentice! I will prove it to ye.”

The little sprites inside of you began to argue, and one was clearly winning. You wanted to help him. Maybe it was the lonely part of you begging for a friend, but either way, it was reaching towards victory.

“I will let you stay temporarily,” you agreed reluctantly. “I could use the help, you’re right. However, heed this warning — if you try anything harmful, if you try to take advantage of my kindness, I will not hesitate to turn you into the Head of Wizardry. Are we clear?”

“Crystal, bonnie.” Johnny was practically bursting out of his skin with pride.

You weren’t sure whether you made the right choice, but it was too late to backtrack. What’s done is done, and you can only seek out the future.

Johnny was a rather good apprentice. He was also a rather good friend. Within just a couple of weeks of him staying there, you extending his stay to a month. Then another month.

Now, it was as if he were permanently living there. You found that you didn’t mind all that much. He was fun, you hated to admit, and very charming.

On mornings you found yourself cooking breakfast, he’d perform silly spells to amuse you. Whether it was lifting your familiar in the air with a point of his finger, or casting a storm cloud inside the kitchen to rain on your food, you found yourself enjoying it. It was a change of pace, one that was much needed.

Where you sought solace in dark isolation, he brought the sunshine. Ironic, considering he was a dark wizard. Mornings became exciting, as did waking up. Evenings shifted to calm, sharing the presence of each other while you read an herbology book, drank the tea he made for you, and he messed with your cat. Nights, where you’d bid each other goodnight with a heavy tension in the air that you couldn’t quite describe.

You’d never felt that way before. You were often good at reading the room. It was the very beauty of your magic. Yet, with Johnny, it felt as if there was a blockage in your witchcraft. And unforeseeable force, preventing you from seeing what this tension was.

As the months went on, it only grew thicker. It was suffocating to be around him. Your heart ached with an unknown need, one that gravitated you towards him without a clue of why. It was as if your heart wanted one thing while your mind sought another.

Johnny was easy to talk to. He never spoke of his experiences as a dark wizard, nor did you ask. But talking about everything else came smooth.

He loved to learn. Teaching him your magic wasn’t simple. His craft was memorized to the dark arts, but he was determined to learn all about yours, staying up every waking moment if it meant spending that time with you.

Sharing that space naturally had you gravitating towards one another. It was friendship, yes, of course it was. Possibly a forbidden one, but the Head of Wizardry didn’t have to know what couldn’t hurt them. But that tension you’d been feeling felt like more.

Johnny never mentioned it, nor did you. That was territory you’d never crossed with another being before, and you’d be mad if you made the first move.

“You put in too much rosemary, Johnny,” you explained with a sigh, glowering down at the murky liquid bubbling in your caldron. It was a disgusting green, slimy and acidic. “And too much of the serpent's scale, clearly. It’s green.”

“Aye, bonnie, that’s what learnin’s all about, ain’t it?” Johnny remarked with a boyish grin, leaning over the caldron so he could join you. Your heads bumped together, something that seemed to be happening far too often lately.

“Of course, but it has been months. Am I a bad teacher, Johnny?” you asked with a faux frown, lifting your head up to look at him.

The proximity was close between you, borderline inappropriate, yet it became a daily occurrence. Johnny didn’t seem to mind, and surprisingly, you didn’t either.

“‘Course not. Yer the best teacher there is,” he teased, bumping your shoulder with his. “‘m just a bit of a forgetful bloke. Too much rosemary and serpent’s scale, I’ll remember.”

“Good.” You let out a dramatic sigh through your nostrils, wrinkling up at the bitter aroma that wafted through the air. You stirred the potion with your trusty spoon, watching the boiling bubbles lower to a simmer. “I believe I’m already nice enough to teach you my craft. It’s quite a waste when you mess up every potion. I’m beginning to think it’s on purpose.”

Johnny snorted in amusement, eyes glinting with mischief. An untrustworthy one, he was. He was no longer on the dark path of wizardry, but he still expressed that trickery like a boy.

“Ach, c’mon, that’s harsh,” Johnny complained, watching you fill the potion into empty vials. “I think ye enjoy bein’ my teacher more than ye want to admit.”

A flutter of embarrassment rose within you, warming you inside. You never used to be flustered so easily until Johnny. He made you nervous, that sickening kind of nervous that sent somersaults in your stomach. It was as if a million moths made home inside of you, fluttering about freely.

“You are flattering yourself,” you retorted, dismissing him with a hand.

“Am I?” he hummed, his voice coated in honey. It formed goosebumps along your arms, your hair standing on edge. You hated the effect he had on you. “Ye seem quite rattled.”

“I am not rattled,” you hissed in defense, whipping your head to throw him a glare.

Johnny, as always, remained unfazed from your firm antics. In fact, it made him egg you on further. After all, the two of you were each other’s only friends in this witching world, and neither had any plans on leaving. He was a permanent visitor, anyway.

“Sounds like somethin’ somebody rattled would say,” he teased. You rolled your eyes, placing corks in each vial to close them off. The rancid scent filtered out of the room slowly, allowing you to breathe.

“You’re pushing it, Johnny. Might I remind you that this is my home, and you are merely staying under my command?” you asked with a raise of your eyebrow.

“Mm. I believe if that were true, ye would have kicked me out by now.” Johnny raised his eyebrow back, taking a step closer to you. You caught the motion out of the corner of your eye but ignored it. “So why don’t ye?”

“Johnny.” You threw him another glower, though there was no denying the spike of nerves his mere confidence was giving you. “You know it is because you’re my friend. I’d feel… guilty.”

Johnny snickered, continuing to step towards you until his chest was against your back, looming over you. His head leaned down, lips ghosting your ear. The feel sent a chill through your veins.

“Guilty?” he repeated. “No, not ye. Ye wouldn’t feel guilty kickin’ me out. I think it’s because ye like me.”

“Stop,” you begged weakly. “It is because you’re my friend that I would feel guilty. I wouldn’t want you returning to old habits.”

“What, me bein’ a dark wizard?” he questioned. You nodded. “I’d never. I rather like bein’ with my little light witch, learnin’ things. Ye really are a great teacher.”

You swallowed nervously, keeping your eyes down on the caldron. His lips remained near your ear, his voice like the call of a siren.

“Maybe it’s time for me to teach you somethin’ for once.”

“What on Earth would you teach me besides dark magic?” you gawked, spinning around to face him. Your head tilted up to meet his eyes, where he stared back at you with a devilish grin.

“How to deal with yer feelin’s, of course,” he stated, as if obvious. “Don’t look at me like that. I know ye’ve spent decades out here alone, no friends, no lover. I want to be both for ye. Let me teach ye.”

“My feelings? You’ve gone absolutely mad, Johnny,” you defended, scowling.

You hated how correct he was. You’d avoided these feelings for months, playing dumb about what they could possibly mean. You pretended to be clueless, pretended they weren’t feelings of love, of desire, yet you should’ve known Johnny could read right through you.

“Mad for ye, maybe.” Johnny beamed at you, smug and proud, and you weren’t sure whether you wanted to smack it off or kiss it off.

“You—“ Exhaling sharply, you collected your head. “You’ve been reading my mind, haven’t you? For how long?”

“Long enough.” Johnny leaned his hands forward to rest them on your potion table, caging you in between them, leaving you with no room to escape. “So? Are ye goin’ to let me be the teacher this time?”

You stared at him in silence, completely bewildered. The damn bloke had been using dark magic to dissect your mind in order to see what you were feeling. With that being true, that meant he’d known about your inner troubles for months and never acted on them.

You really wanted to smack him. Or perhaps force an itching potion just to mess with him temporarily.

“I do need a break from teaching,” you confessed quietly, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Atta girl,” he praised, his smile a bit softer around the edges. “Don’t worry. I’ll be good, so long as you do as well.”

Without a moment of hesitation, the taste of Johnny invaded your tastebuds. His lips were chapped yet soft, a bit rough against your own. The rhythm was uncoordinated, seeing as you hadn’t kissed another person in quite a long time. So long that you couldn’t recall the memory.

Johnny was patient, though. After all, he wanted to teach you, and surely, he was complying.

His hands fisted the edge of the table, knuckles turning white from the grip as he fought the urge to touch you. However, the moment your kiss began to move much more smoothly, that fight became lost.

His hands quickly slipped to your waist where he held you in his embrace, burning with a roaring fire. He was aching, craving, and you could feel those emotions rolling off of him and transmitting to you.

The kiss became sloppy, mouths becoming desperate against the other. It was a build up of unspoken emotions that festered for months like an annoying tick, never wanting to leave you be. Now that they were prominent, they poured out like a broken faucet, filling the room with hopeless desire.

“Ye don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” Johnny gasped against your mouth. His lips ventured down your cheek, your jaw, then your neck, the slight point of his canines dipping into your sensitive flesh.

Your breathing was ragged and ruined, chest heaving as you attempted to catch it. It was hard to do so when he nibbled behind your ear, a sensitive twinge shocking through you, causing you to gasp.

“Ye like that, my little witch?” Johnny teased, snickering in your ear. The rumble of his voice vibrated against you, low and seductive. You’d never heard him talk like that before, nor had anybody done it. The feeling was new, yet it sent heat right to your core.

“Shut up, you mangy wizard,” you breathed, your own voice failing you.

“Feisty.” You could feel his grin against your ear. “I’ve always liked that about ye.”

His lips brushed down your neck, teasing. It wracked you with a shiver, your arms looping around his own neck for stability.

“I’m only feisty because you do not listen,” you retorted. Johnny laughed.

“Why do ye think I do it, bonnie?”

He pulled away from your neck to peer down at you. You opened your eyes and returned the gaze, blinking dumbly. Johnny’s hand slowly slid up your body, brushing along your robes. It stopped on your face where he firmly gripped you by the cheeks, four fingers on one and his thumb on the other.

You were in his grasp yet again, forced to look him in the eye while he grinned wickedly. You could see the brief glint of dark wizard shining in his blue irises, the telltale sign of who he would always be deep down, though it was the side you had come to accept.

“I like seeing ye all riled up. All moody and mean, bossin’ me around as if yer in charge. Tell me, witch. Who’s the one in charge now?” he asked slowly, the fingers on your face tightening, digging into your flesh.

“You,” you stated shamefully.

“Me,” he repeated proudly. “Good girl. I knew ye could take orders as well as ye dish ‘em out.”

Johnny’s lips returned to yours, moving feverishly. His hand dropped from your face and to your robes, eagerly untying them. They fell to the ground in a heap, leaving you exposed. It happened so quickly that you had no time to process it until his fingers found your chest, plucking at one of your nipples which peaked up in interest.

The spark it sent through you tugged an involuntary moan from your lips. The sound caused Johnny to repeat it, taking your nipple back between two fingers to lightly twist and tug.

“Such a pretty witch,” he hummed, placing a kiss on the column of your throat. “Aren’t ye?”

Before you could respond, Johnny briskly lifted you onto the table, knocking over your caldron in the process. Its remaining contents spilled onto the ground in a mess, the green acid staining the old wooden floors.

You’d normally be in a panic over your workspace becoming disastrous, but the desire overtook your senses. The only thing on your mind was Johnny and the way his eyes practically devoured your naked body, taking it all in.

“It’s not fair,” you muttered, so quiet he nearly missed it.

“Aye? What’s not fair?” he asked, cocking his head down at you.

You attempted to turn your head, looking away from him, but his hand came to grab your chin and turn you back to his attention. You thumped your head back on the wooden table, staring up at him in embarrassment.

“Your robes are on but mine are not.” The moment the words left your lips, he grinned at you, full of that familiar mischief.

“Sorry, bonnie. Guess I got ahead of myself,” he apologized teasingly.

Standing straight from where he was towering over you, he began to undress himself, the black cloak slipping off of him with ease and sinking to his feet. In an instant, his nakedness matched your own, though your eyes remained firmly on the ceiling.

“Ye asked for it, witch, now yer not even goin’ to look?”

You could barely take Johnny’s mockery. He knew exactly what to say to have you in a fluster, and every bit of it was working.

Slowly, your eyes shifted down from the ceiling, before stopping on his face. You knew he wanted you to see him for all he was, just as he’d done you, so you gave in, dipping lower.

Johnny was beautiful, riddled with scars and stories. He was a book yet to be opened, and you wanted to delve deeper, to learn.

Meeting his eyes once again, you gave him a bashful smile, one which he returned. Seemingly satisfied with you following direction, he trailed a finger down your body, the fingertip calloused and rough from years of magic. Your eyes never left his as it ventured lower, teasing, going anywhere except the place you truly wanted it.

“You are messing with me,” you murmured, voice weak. Johnny gave you a knowing look.

“Messin’ with ye?” He tutted, sliding his finger down the plains of your stomach. The sensation made you keen. “‘m not messin’ with ye. You can just tell me what ye want, love.”

You swallowed, squirming on the table when you felt a low burn erupting from his fingertip. It was faint, barely recognizable, but it was a telltale sign of further taunting. “Must I say it?”

“Mhm.”

“I’d like you to touch me,” you mumbled. Johnny’s eyebrow quirked, his smile becoming smug.

“What was that?” he asked knowingly.

“Christ, you beast, please touch me and quit your teasing,” you hissed, frowning up at him from where he leaned over your body.

Johnny’s grin grew, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He looked pretty when he smiled, and you swore he had casted a spell on you.

“There ye go. Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he taunted.

“Damn you.”

The wizard snickered, finding humor in your clear desperation. Nonetheless, he gave you what you wanted, his hand dipping beneath your stomach and venturing into new territory.

When he finally touched you, you were soaked, embarrassingly so. The tips of his fingers dived in the folds of your pussy, drenching themselves in your slick.

Johnny released a content sigh through his nose, his eyes flickering down to take you in. He watched as he toyed with your clit, forming an agonizing slow pace. He rolled it beneath his fingers, sending you electric shocks from head to toe.

“Oh,” you gasped, as if surprised by the touch, though you’d asked for it. It’d been long, too long without a feeling of pleasure, and now you were practically aching for it.

“Good?” he hummed. You gave him a dazed nod, blinking at him.

The motion encouraged him to explore. When you felt the tip of his finger circle your entrance, then prod through, sinking down to the knuckle, your mouth dropped open, a gruffled noise escaping you.

The pace he set was a bit faster than when he’d stimulated your clit, but still too slow. You writhed beneath him, pleading with your eyes for him to do more, to do something.

Taking note of it, he sped up just the slightest, slowly working you open on his single finger. Once he felt you were comfortable, he welcomed a second finger, which somehow became a third only minutes later.

You were practically falling apart without him even fully inside of you. You feared you’d be an utter mess when it was cock, but before you could dwell on it, his fingers curled up, sparking a fire that burned fiercely.

A string of moans and whimpers filled your study, all from you. They were broken, somehow already wrecked from Johnny simply fucking you open on his fingers.

“Gods, ye don’t know what ye do to me,” he breathed, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear. His arm was trapped between your bodies, fingers never letting up on the brutal pace inside you. “Can’t even explain how long I’ve wanted it.”

You whined pathetically, clenching around his fingers. “How long?”

“Much longer than ye think, witch.” The wizard smiled against your ear, before drifting down the side of your neck, taking in your scent. “A lifetime.”

His words didn’t register, for you were too caught up in a trance. Love stricken, pleasure drunk, whatever it may be, it took over all logical senses.

“I want you inside,” you begged, squirming once again. “Please, Johnny.”

Johnny exhaled through his nose, the air fanning along your neck where he nuzzled into. “Whatever ye want, my little minx. I’ll give it to ye.”

His fingers left an ache when they left you. It was a foreign feeling, clenching around nothing, and you felt the burn of embarrassment when you realized just how truly desperate you were to feel him.

The loss didn’t last long. Before you knew it, the blunt head of Johnny’s cock nudged your cunt. His eyes fluttered up to yours, basking in the sight of you, flustered and keening.

The bulbous tip pressed further, breaking through the first ring of muscle of your pussy, giving you more and more. Your body was pulled tight, shoulders tense and back arched. Johnny’s lips pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, a hand caressing your hip.

“Relax, witch,” he murmured against your skin. His voice was hypnotic, ringing through your ears like a song. It caused you to calm in an instant, your body accepting more of him inside until he was flush against you, the tip of his cock nuzzled against the spongy walls of your cervix.

He was at the limit, bordering on being too much, yet somehow not enough.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, luring him to move. When he did, you saw stars, each and every thrust causing him to drag along the walls of your cunt, only to be slammed right back into you. You were on cloud nine, preening in the attention your pussy had desperately needed for decades too long.

Whimpers of his name left your lips, encouraging him. The sounds of your pleasure only fueled his burning desire, and soon enough, he was rutting into you like a dog, losing all sense of control.

The table shook with every thrust, vials of herbs and potions clattering to the ground and smashing. You didn’t have an ounce of care to worry about it, solely focused on the warmth building in your core.

It felt as if someone were pulling an invisible string inside of you, daring to unravel your innermost pleasure. It only grew in intensity when Johnny had switched positions, grabbing hold of your ankles so he could press your knees to your chest.

The only thing keeping you from falling apart was Johnny. He made sure your legs remained tucked against you as he greedily took what he wanted, cock slipping in and out of your slick. You swallowed him up, as if he were meant to be there, like you were molded for him.

“I could stay here,” Johnny panted, sweat beginning to bead along his forehead. His eyes were lidded and heavy, smoldered with a sultriness that had your heart pitter pattering against your rib cage. “Inside of ye, I swear, I could. The best pussy I’ve felt in centuries.”

You gasped at his words, body shuddering in pure want. The build up was close, you could feel it vibrating between both of us. It was as if both of your enemies were reaching out towards the other, craving to be formed as one. Dark energy and light energy, a disastrous mix.

“Ye want me to stay, witch?” Johnny purred, his grin dazed but smug. “Want me to stay here forever with ye?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, your body tensing and untensing with every shot of pleasure that zapped you. It stung deliciously, both the strain of your trapped legs and your pussy accommodating his cock, but you reveled in it.

Johnny made a low noise in the back of his throat, pace quickening. The sounds of your bodies mending together filled the room, wet and dirty, skin slapping with skin. The two of you were doused in sweat, skin hot to the touch, scorching your veins. This was an act of love, an act of two worlds mending as one, dark and light.

The more frantic he became, the more uncoiled you felt. Your body and mind were drunk, wiped off all things magic and replaced with Johnny, Johnny, Johnny.

“Goin’ to let me cum inside, witch?” he mocked, grin so sinister you would’ve been scared if it weren’t Johnny. “Might cast a spell on ye if I do.”

“Please,” you begged, hands scrambling to claw at his back, surely leaving marks by the end. “Yes, please, do it, Johnny.”

Johnny let out a wicked laugh, quickly smothered by his own moan. His thrusts became sloppy and erratic as he hit that sweet spot within you every single time, erupting fireworks beneath your eyelids.

It didn’t take much to get you past the edge. Your mind blanked, your eyes flashing white as intoxicating ecstasy dripped through your bloodstream. Johnny held on to you tight while you shook, spilling himself inside of you, painting your walls with nothing but him.

Despite talking mean to you, Johnny was sweet when he cleaned you up. Your study was a mess, one that he fixed without question while you rested on the living room sofa, spent out of your mind.

Curled up in furs to keep your naked body warm and snug, you smiled at Johnny when he entered the room, watching as he stepped into the kitchen. You had full view of him from where you sat, and when you blinked away the tiredness a few times, you noticed he was putting on a kettle for you.

Your heart soared at the memory of you two flashing in the back of your mind. It was heavenly, the collision of you and Johnny’s worlds. Like it was a serene paradise only the two of you know.

“Here, love,” Johnny murmured softly, setting the warm mug of tea in front of you.

You sat up, thanking him sweetly. Lifting the cup, you inhaled the lovely scent of mint, before taking a sip, sighing in content at the warmth flooding your mouth.

“Did ye enjoy yerself?” he asked, and you nodded happily. “I’m glad. I meant what I said. I want to stay here forever. It’s a real shame that I can’t.”

You stared at him, confusion flashing on your face. A cold chill dripped down your spine when you noted the smile he wore, how it seemed so soft yet so fake. As if he had painted it on.

“What?” you asked, gripping the mug in your hands tighter. “What do you mean?”

“’m really sorry that I’ve had to do this to ye after the time we’ve spent together,” Johnny sighed. “What was it ye said when we first met? One doesn’t suddenly wish to no longer be a dark wizard? One does not simply change from craftin’ dark arts?”

Your hands began to tremble. Mixed emotions hit you all at once. Fear, confusion, betrayal, hurt. You thought after allowing Johnny into your home, you had formed an unbreakable bond. Two magical beings from different realms, formed together as one. A friendship, a relationship, a lover.

“Johnny,” you whispered, voice cracking. He simply smiled at you, cocking his head.

“Perhaps in yer next life, ye won’t be so kind. I really am sorry, minx. I was really startin’ to like ye.” Johnny caressed a hand through your hair, but the feeling felt foreign, like a burn singeing your skin. The touch snapped you out of your daze, and when you came to, you noticed his other hand grasping the red skull mask, one you thought he’d gotten rid of.

If only you had bothered to take a glance at the tea leaves gathered at the bottom of your mug would you have noticed the shape of a knife form, warning you of incoming death.

#call of duty #cod #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x reader #dark wizard soap #witch reader #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #kind of #just as precaution #soap mactavish x reader

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youraverageaemondsimp · 9 months

Text

Embers of the past. // Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: ANGST, war, grief, loss, major character death(s), hurt/no comfort, tragedy + not proofread

WC: 1.1k

A/N: first time writing pure angst IDK 😭 I couldn't sleep and I wrote this short fic so uhm 😀

He reminisced about you quite often, about the moments you both spent together; in youth and in adulthood.

“Aemond?” You call out his name and he wakes up from his slumber, your face hovering over his as the sunlight scatters around your form because of the way you blocked it with your head.

“Y/N?” He groans, rubbing his eyes as he properly sat up, fully awake now, “Yes, It is me, The septa is looking for you at the request of Ser Criston Cole” You tell him, and he looks around, “You know how she is, He will say how un-princely it is to fall asleep under the godswood!” You pull him by his arm, rolling at the thought of the septa lecturing you both, and he gets up, before brushing off the dust from his clothes.

“Let us go now, otherwise You'll be late for your training.” You quickly urge him, dragging him along by the arm and he stumbles forwards but immediately picks up pace. “Will you be watching me train again today?” He asks and you nod eagerly, “I love seeing you train.” you reply, causing him to blush before locking your arm with his and moving to the training grounds.

He remembered how in his youth you used to stare at him in awe whenever he trained, that stare never changed, it felt as though you always saw a side of him that no one ever did, your eyes filled with pure admiration, solely for him alone.

He admired you as well.

His admiration grew with age, as you both grew up, it turned into an emotion that would soon engulf you both into pieces, burn you both alive in its flames of passion. Love.

He loved everything about you.

The way you spoke, the way your voice would become a pitch higher whenever you talk of your interests, the way your eyes would gleam with brightness as you stared at him, the way your face would brighten up when you would see him.

He adored you so much.

So why is that your eyes which once beamed so brightly seem soulless? Your face is void of any expression which was once always smiling, your body so cold to the touch, no longer providing the warmth he once basked in. Why?

His grip on your body tightened as he was lost in thought, “My prince…” Ser Criston's Cole’s voice was filled with nothing but pity, but why was it filled with pity anyway?

He remembers now.

You had died.

Taken away from him, a cruel punishment for his action of accidentally slaying his own nephew, his own kin. He couldn't save you in time as the men sent by Daemon Targaryen had arrived before he could even reach out.

He walked into a room where the floor was covered in blood, your body lying amidst it with your gown stained with your own vital fluid.

He thought he had lost a part of him even forever when he lost his eye, but the day he lost you was the day he lost himself.

He became a ghost of a person he was before, his mind filled with nothing but grief and sorrow, Did he truly deserve it? You had done nothing wrong to be the victim of such a crime, it should be him that should be dead because of his own actions, not you.

Yet the gods were cruel.

Aemond, turned mad, unable to deal with the grief that weighed upon him so heavily which he turned to endless training and bloodshed, venting his frustrations out in such a way.

Till he met Alys Rivers.

“I know of the troubles you suffer from my prince, I can help you.” She had told him the moment he met her, and he scoffed, almost chuckling at her stupidity, “I know the sorrows that weigh upon you, my prince, the way you dearly miss her.” It was what caught Aemond's attention, how did she know of you? The only ones that knew were the ones closest to him.

“I can help you avenge her, but…” Those first few words were enough for Aemond to agree with Alys, she need not say more, in return, he helped her live a secure life than before, providing protection to her while she exchanged the visions she used to see.

It was all what led to the moment.

Him facing off his uncle above the God's eye.

The dragons roared as the fight begin, attacking one another for few minutes, struggling to gain the upperhand until Vhagar caught Caraxes by the neck, causing the dragon to panic and yank Daemon off, but Daemon held on tightly, his plan changing, jumping off his dragon in a suicide-mission to deliver the final blow to Aemond.

Yet he failed and fell to his death.

Aemond thought he had won, and that he had finally avenged you.

But he plummeted from the skies, watching both the dragons fight above him, he was knocked off from his dragonback when Caraxes lunged at Vhagar in order to avenge his rider,

As Aemond descended through the air, he had remembered what Alys had said to him. “You will see her once again after defeating your uncle.”

He understood what it meant now.

He reminisced about everything, everything leading up to now, each and every moment he spent with you, suddenly he felt alive as each second passed on and time moved forwards, how ironic as he was falling to his death. Yet it did not feel that way to him, he did not feel the doom anyone would feel nearing their death, instead he felt more alive than he ever did in the days he spent living without you.

Even as the air felt like a million spikes being shoved into his body, he found peace in it, the way the harsh air penetrated through his clothes and hair felt anything but terrible, contrary to it, he oddly found solace.

The waters welcomed his body as though they were waiting for him, Aemond found it harder to breathe, yet he did not struggle; simply closing his eye and welcoming death, accepting his fate. He felt as if he was only mere moments away from you.

Maybe in death, he won't be separated from you.

Even in his final moments, his mind refused to wander off to anywhere but you.

As the life left his body, he had only one thing in his mind.

Your face that smiled ever so brightly and warmly at him, just as the way you used to.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond fanfic #aemond angst #aemond x reader angst #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #x reader #reader insert #x reader angst #angst #aemond kinslayer #aemond x you #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader angst

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buttercandy16 · 6 months

Text

Mine to Covet

(Dark!ReverendMotherJessica x Female!Reader)

Word Count: 3.9K

Summary: An unfortunate fate where your lover's mother wants to have you all to herself, and she's willing to do anything.

Warning(s): Dark fanfiction, Smut, Yandere, Dub-Con, etc.

A/N: I do love my yandere. Another anon also asked for a yandere/kidnapping fic and I'll probably write that one next. Also, English is not my first language so please don't come after me due to my grammar. Enjoy!

Gimme me more requests!! Please!

-_-_-

JESSICA’S POV

As a Bene Gesserit, I possess supreme levels of discipline, including complete control over my emotions and urges. So how is it that I can feel my blood boil in anger and taste the bitterness of envy violate my tongue as I watch my own son woo the woman he claims as his? Why do I feel the strong urge to cut off his hand the moment it touched yours?

At first, I was confused by this foreign feeling, so I grew angry with myself. I didn’t understand what it was.

It first occurred when Paul, my only son, introduced you to me. A Fremen girl he has grown to fancy. I remembered how he gushed over you, clearly seeking his mother’s approval, my approval. But no words from his lips reached my interest for I had my focus solely on the divine creature presented to me. With a barely concealed amusement, I observed your fidgeting form battling the urge to look me straight in the eyes, it was clear to me that you were nervous, the reason may be from knowing that I am the Reverend Mother or maybe because it is I who birthed the Lisan al Gaib or simply because I am Paul’s mother, it mattered not to me. What mattered was the pleasant feeling that I get from your presence alone. Such a strange girl… However, my amusement ended swiftly when Paul held your hand in his. My breath hitched and my once relaxed hand turned to a fist as my vision started to bleed red.

What is happening to me?! Why do I feel this way?! I remembered muttering inside my head. I felt as if I was no longer in control of my own body. Fear clawed against my skin and with great haste, I silently spoke the litany of fear to calm myself. Careful not to expose the battle within to anyone present. Unfortunately, I find myself feeling the same way right now.

Not long after realization struck me like a ton of bricks. The dreadful realization that I simply covet you…the girl whom my son is in love with. I want you as much as he does… maybe even more so.

I blame my late Duke’s death for having these thoughts. Perhaps it is caused by the sudden loss of the man I loved that pushed me into having these strong urges towards you. Maybe I see him in you and I'm feeling lonely. Or maybe I’m just truly damaged and deranged that my head is now filled with such corrupted thoughts. I am desiring something or rather someone I can’t have.

But you will have her… she is yours… the voices in my head whisper.

“No, she’s with Paul… She belongs to my son,” I whisper back as I look at you longingly while hiding in the shadows.

She belongs to no one else but yours… Yours to love… yours to keep… yours to defile… yours to consume…

“Stop it… You have no idea what you’re saying. I cannot hurt Paul like that,” I weakly argue back as my eyes start to water with tears. I love my son dearly and because of that, I will fight hard against the voices… against my feelings. But deep inside I know I’m fighting a losing battle… I know that I have already lost.

_-_-_

Time passed and bit by bit my resolve crumbled and the thoughts of my son turned into nothing. Now, all I can think of is you… and the millions of other ways I can have you.

She is yours…

Claim her…

She is yours…

Claim her….

Eyes dark with lust and pure deranged obsession I look at you once more while hidden in the shadows as I whisper to myself, “She is mine and I will claim her.”

-_-_-

Y/N POV

"You're so beautiful, " Paul whispered in my ear, making me smile.

We've been sitting out here for some time now. Watching as the sun sets for the night.

"We better go inside, Paul. It's no longer safe to stay out at this hour"

Paul nodded in agreement before he pulled me up with him and we started to walk inside.

"Oh, I almost forgot. My mother wants to see you," I stopped when I heard what he said.

"Why?" I asked, trying to remain calm as much as possible.

Truth be told. Paul's mother, the Reverend Mother, scares me. She’s a Bene Gesserit, she walks in the shadows. No one truly knows what goes on in her mind. All I know is there’s something strong about her presence, but something that felt forbidden and so wrong. She is beautiful as much as she’s dangerous.

In simple terms, I don’t trust her.

"Don't worry, she just wants to talk," he gave me a reassuring smile before leaving me in front of the Reverend Mother's tent.

After taking a deep breath I made my presence known by going inside. My eyes wandered all over the unique decor of the Reverend Mother’s tent until it settled on the middle where there’s a small table with two cups filled with some kind of tea.

“Hello little one,” a sultry voice whispered suddenly into my ear, breaking me out of my thoughts and making me turn to see the Reverend Mother invading my personal space so sensually from behind.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she continued with a chuckle.

“No need to ask for forgiveness, Reverend Mother. You didn’t” I lied, trying to remain calm as I felt my cheeks heat up from our proximity. “Paul said that you asked to see me.”

“I did,” Her eyes were on me, filled with intent that I failed to decipher. She brushed her fingertips across my shoulder, causing goosebumps to run along my skin before she motioned for me to sit on the carpeted ground right next to the small table.

After I complied she walked towards me and immediately joined me by sitting close to my side, our clothed thighs lightly brushing against each other.

“Have some tea, I have it specially prepared for us,” she said while gesturing for me to take it, there's a challenging glint in her eyes, daring me to refuse.

With no intention to displease my lover’s mother, I complied and took a little sip. The moment it met my tongue I was surprised to find it very cooling.

“This is good”

“Yes, simple but very soothing. But, you must drink deeply for the full effect,” she said with amusement dripping from her voice.

Without any second thoughts, I did what I was told, and the Reverend Mother seemed satisfied with this as I can see it in her smile. Soon I was holding an empty cup. I had drained it and yet, I’m still thirsty.

“Would you like some more?” she asked.

“Y-yes, If it’s not much of a bother, Reverend Mother,” I replied, self-consciously rubbing the fabric over my hips.

“Not at all, and please... Call me Jessica” she replied, her eyes glinting with something dark as she carefully replenished my cup.

“As you wish, Jessica. May I know why I'm being summoned?” I breathed, my heart pounding in my chest as our gazes met before I took a generous sip from my drink. There was something undeniably alluring about her, something that both scared and excited me.

The weight of her eyes on me feels invasive like she could see through my cracks and discover all of my weaknesses. She’s watching me as if I’m her prey.

“You must understand, Y/N, I’m a determined woman. Whenever I have an agenda I’ll make sure to do everything in my power to achieve it. Whatever means necessary.” She muttered, leaning in close to my ear. Her warm breath sent shivers down my spine.

“Did Paul touch you yet?” Her tone was casual with her sudden question, but her eyes were anything but.

“Wh-what?,” I stuttered, feeling my cheeks flush not believing what I was hearing right now.

“Have you given yourself to my son, sexually?” she leaned in closer to me.

“Uh, n-no,” I stammered, my body trembling like a leaf.

“Are you being truthful with me?” she purred, her fingertips ghosting lightly along my exposed neck. It was such a simple yet surprisingly intimate gesture that it made me feel like the tent suddenly caught fire from how hot it was.

I shakily nodded while she only looked at me with satisfaction.

“Have you taken his gift of water yet? Or yours to him?” she asked, scooting closer. Her smell was intoxicating and it made my head spin.

“N-no…not yet. He wants to wait until we are to be married.”

The Reverend Mother snickered under her breath and continued. “I raised that boy and taught him everything I know so he’ll rise and fulfill his destiny one day. But now, I’m starting to have second thoughts. It seems to me he’s just as weak as his father. A beautiful morsel such as yourself standing so willingly at the palm of his hand and yet he never thought about fully claiming you as his. So sure that you’ll stay right where you are. I guess he never thought about someone stealing you away. Such a huge mistake on his part but a blessing for me.” she said with a wicked grin, her delicate fingers tracing slow circles on my forearm as if she were teasing me.

But before I could respond, I noticed that the tent was becoming increasingly warm. Worse, I was finding my body uncomfortably warm. My face was becoming flushed and I was panting. My suit was becoming very confining. How odd, I thought. I grew up wearing this suit, but now I desire nothing more than to get them off.

My eyes landed on my now empty cup next to the Reverend Mother’s. That’s when I realized that she’d never touched her cup, not even a single drop.

She followed my gaze to her cup before catching mine. Slightly tilting her head, she then smiled knowingly.

“I-I need to leave” I croaked back, fear creeping into my bones as alarm bells started ringing in my head.

But when I was about to stand up, I was immediately met with a sudden dizziness making me sit back down ungracefully.

It felt like my innards were being replaced by some kind of emptiness. I tried to stand again, desperate to leave the tent. I swayed just for a moment before the Reverend Mother caught me and pushed me down with my back against the carpet, a soft gasp of surprise leaving my lips.

She didn’t waste any time as she got on top of me and pinned my hands above my head in a tight grip, sharp nails digging against my skin but not breaking.

The Reverend Mother’s face was close to mine as she intently stared into my fear-filled eyes.

“Oh, no little girl. You’re not going anywhere,” she whispered above me.

Her face was blank from any emotion, but her eyes said it all.

“Did you poison me?” I whimpered. Her grip on my wrist tightened more than before, making me yelp in pain as she cut off the circulation of my blood.

“Of course not, I would never harm you without reason. Only to ensure your utmost obedience. The tea is for making you more pliant, not to kill.” she purred, leaning in close enough that our lips almost brushed. Her warm breath mingled with mine.

“What do y-you want from me?” I stammered, my voice barely audible.

She smiled maliciously at me before she started speaking.

“Isn’t it obvious, dear one? I want you.” one of her hands left my wrist and slowly traced my face with her fingers before she continued, “From the moment we met I already felt a certain pull towards you. I didn’t fully realize what it was until much later. Deep down I know you feel the same. That’s the reason why you went with Paul so that you could be closer to me.”

She’s starting to sound and look very much deranged. To my complete horror, she seems to believe her words to be true.

No…This can’t be happening. Paul… I’m with Paul!

I shook my head no but that was not what she was looking for. I yelped in pain from the sudden sting of her slap against my now-reddened cheek.

“Do not lie to me.” Her tone was assertive as she spoke every word.

“I’m not.” I cried weakly.

Another slap and tears started to run down my cheeks.

She leaned down and her warm wet tongue immediately tasted my despair with delight written all over her face.

“I don’t like hurting you. But know that I will when I deem it necessary. So you better give me the answer that I want, little girl. Don’t test my patience. Try again.”

I only shook my head once more, refusing to back down. This made her chuckle

”Such a stubborn girl. I’ll enjoy breaking and reshaping you into my good little girl.” she whispered next to my ear.

Is she for real? My mouth fell open as I struggled to say anything. Suddenly I heard footsteps outside the tent.

“Mother, is Y/N still with you?”

Hearing Paul’s voice almost made me tear up with joy thinking that this would all come to an end. But when I looked at the Reverend Mother it seemed like I was dead wrong. Instead of seeing a look of panic, she gave me a wicked grin.

“She is… come inside, my son. I want to show you something.”

Paul entered the tent and suddenly froze where he stood when his eyes landed on us. The woman he sires pinned underneath his own mother’s body.

“Wh-what is going on here?” Paul asked as he looked at us confused.

“Paul, help me, please. Your mother has lost her mind” I pleaded as he went closer.

“Mother! Get off her ri–”

“SILENCE!” Paul’s words were cut off as I saw his mouth shut in command. His eyes were immediately filled with betrayal and hurt when he realized that his mother used the voice on him. But his mother did not care at all, “Kneel and do not move” she commanded his son once more.

I looked at her as if she lost her mind. Perhaps she did.

“Oh don’t look at me like that, little one. For it is you who made me this way” she leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek. I tried to jerk away but couldn’t. The kiss practically seared my skin like molten lava.

She pulled a dagger from under her robes and then turned towards his son, a slave to her command.

“You know very well that I love you, Paul. But unfortunately for you, my love for Y/N weighs more heavy. I won’t let you have her. She is mine…only mine. And you will watch as I claim her.” her attention then went back to me as she sliced through my stillsuit and garments beneath it. I am now completely naked to her eyes.

My head turned to Paul and saw the same panic set in his eyes. We were both sobbing and fearful of what was to come.

She laughed maliciously and roughly gripped my chin to look at her.

“Open your mouth” my breath hitched as I felt her voice crawl its way into my head. Not a second passed and my mouth opened.

“Take the gift of my water and you shall become one with me. Take it and you will be mine…forever.” she whispered before spitting into my mouth, “Swallow” she commanded before her lips descended against mine.

Her kiss was violent, forcing her tongue past my gritted teeth.

The tongue quickly found its way around my mouth and explored every inch. In parallel to that, her hands moved around and groped my breast. She slightly massaged them and pinched the erected nipples. It was not that the events aroused me. It was the cold that made my body like that.

The kiss ended after a while, me being out of the air while the older woman was looking crazier than before. She licked her lips another time before stripping her garments away. She moved and kneeled in front of my face, her warmth being right on top of my face. "Pleasure me, little one." She commanded using the voice commanding voice and I immediately complied.

"Yes!" She started to move her body up and down, making her juice splash on my face. "Now, get that tongue of yours at work, beautiful girl," She ordered and once again tightened the grip, forcing me to obey her order.

I had to stick my tongue forward, forced to have a taste of the older woman. It was sweet and I couldn't stop myself from moaning from the taste of her. She also moaned at the feeling of my tongue inside her and moved faster until she cummed in my mouth.

Just as I was about to let go of a sigh, my left leg was lifted, Jessica’s right leg sliding under it. "It is not the end yet! I still have a lot of things I want to teach your body." She pushed her hip forward, making our center meet.

I can't help but admit that it started to feel so good, so good that I failed to notice that I was no longer under the influence of the voice.

She repeated to thrush several more times, bringing our center together and making them part, and then collide again. She started to moan once again as I did the same, her hands starting to play with my breast, enjoying every contact through my body. Until my first orgasm was ripped from me this evening, followed by the beautiful temptress who laid on top of me while catching her breath from her release.

She looked down at me in complete amusement as I lay helplessly underneath her.

Jessica kissed the tip of my nose before sliding her warm body over me. She then began to touch me once more, and that was when I started to squirm a little. She moved her arms around my body, rubbing it in a very erotic way. "So beautiful! I can't help but masturbate thinking about you every day. And now, you are finally mine." She put a hand on my knee and began to gently stroke my leg.

Oh no... please no more...

"P--please... I can't. It's too much"

I struggled as I tried to pull myself away from her, but my body is still weak from the drugged tea and pleasure.

"Shhhh... I know you can. Just give me one more, little one. I just need to taste you."

She settled herself in between my legs, parting them by force.

She reached between my legs and pushed something. It's her finger against my clit, causing my back to arch. "Oh!" I gasped, head falling back. "Oh, oh—"

Jessica cupped my left breast and mouthed at it, kissing and licking. I didn't know where to look but into her eyes, trying my best not to follow the sound of a silently sobbing man.

I'm not sure what possessed me at the moment but I was suddenly desperate to taste her lips.

"Kiss me," I begged. "Please..."

And she did. Soft and sweet, holding me to her. Tugging my lip with her teeth and stroking my back, my butt. She took hold of my legs, cupping the underside of my knees. Bringing my legs around her waist, she rocked against me, teasing my lip with her tongue.

I parted my lips for her, tasting her, sighing... Jolting when she tugged on my nipple. "Oh, ow, owie—, please don't—"

I cried out with pleasure. This was so nice; it felt so good.

She smiled at me. “You’ve got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, my beloved,” she said, reaching to touch me, pulling back the hood of my clit so she could rub me with her thumb. I shivered. “Look at this tiny clit. So fucking adorable, and all mine…”

She proceeded to slide down my body until she was face to face with my dripping warmth.

I gasped when she started to lick me and felt my stomach twitch, surprised and excited at Reverend Mother’s eagerness to please me. I felt her tongue trace the outline of my lower lips and shuddered. A moment later, the older woman finally slid her tongue over my clit, and that's when I felt my walls clenching in a sudden spasm, screaming in pure pleasure for the second time. Due to the intensity, I blacked out.

-_-_-

A groan left my lips when I woke up, my body deliciously sore.

Slightly stretching, that's when I realized that I was not alone.

To my left, Paul stood looking down at me. Tears stained his cheeks, eyes full of hatred.

“P-paul… I–”

“Silence! I don’t need your excuse. You and I are over” Paul spits his words with so much anger that it hurts.

“But Paul, it was your mother’s doing… I didn’t wa–”

“SILENCE”

The command surprised me into shock. Having the Reverend Mother use the voice on me seems to hurt less than having Paul do the same thing.

“You will not speak ill of the Reverend Mother. For she is the mother of your people’s chosen and now… your intended... for you two are fully bonded as one”

Paul’s words confused me greatly. Why would he say such a thing after everything his mother did in front of him? But my thoughts were then silenced when I saw a pair of hands rest on his shoulders. The Reverend Mother’s face appeared next to his.

“That’s enough, my son. I think my beloved has heard enough. You may take your leave” she calmly whispered.

Paul did what his mother asked but not before sparing me one last glance and whispered under his breath… I’m sorry… and now completely leaving me alone with a predator hungry for my flesh.

“What have you done to him?! Did you use your voice?!” I yelled accusingly, but she only laughed at this before kneeling beside my vulnerable form.

“No, Paul is simply being a good son. I raised him well, he knows to never go against my will. I brought him into this world and gave him his birthright, he owes me as much.” She smiled devilishly.

She looked down at me with a predatory grin before slowly tilting my chin with her finger to meet her eyes.

It was so dark and full of lust that it felt like I was about to drown in it.

"So here's what will happen from now on, you better listen carefully because everything that is attached to your existence will be at play if I don't get what I want, understood?" I weakly nodded, no longer having the will to fight back.

"Good girl" Jessica praised before caressing my cheek.

"You will surrender yourself to me and in time I know that you will so willingly. The more you take the gift of my water, the stronger our bond grows. In the meantime, you will be my obedient darling girl. Whatever I say, goes. Understood?" Her grip on my chin tightened, emphasizing how serious she was.

"Ye-yes" I stuttered through gritted teeth.

"If you behave like a good little girl for me, I will reward you with anything you desire, but if you disobey... You will learn that I won't go easy on my punishment. Since that's all settled then, time to quench my thirst."

"W-with what?" I fearfully asked.

The Reverend Mother smiled at me before leaning in close, her lips almost touching mine.

"You."

#lady jessica x reader #dune #lady jessica #rebecca ferguson #dark fanfiction #yandere #dune part 2 #fanfiction #jessica atreides #bene gesserit #obsession

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dreamermonica · 2 years

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BLUE LOCK BOYS + ROMANCE TROPES

—includes isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser (sorry if this asshole's part is freakishly longer than the other boys' parts. favoritism exists in this blog, unfortunately.)

—fem pronouns are used, swearing cause it's me, major crack, fluff, messy attempt at humor, teenage pining and such, god help me t.t

ISAGI YOICHI is definitely childhood friend material. sworn friends ever since diapers, promises of being together till the very end, marriage proposals at the tender age of 6—all that type of cheesy stuff that would get you squealing and have your little feet kicking in the air out of giddiness. but as time goes on with him being set on football and you doing your own thing, the promise gradually gets left behind in your heads, slowly getting buried underneath all the pressure of being an adolescent. the once childish promise only resurfaces during an unexpected reunion—with both of you having achieved your dream careers. will your puppy love rise once more from the depths of your memories and perhaps turn into something...more serious? hah. what are you talking about? this old friend of yours should take you out for a proper dinner first, atleast.

BACHIRA MEGURU with the ugly duckling trope. no friends, seen as an outcast, too eccentric for his other classmates to comprehend—and there's you—the popular and extroverted individual loved and befriended by many others. you as the campus crush, who found an interest in the lonely bowl cut boy. though your curiosity is piqued at first, you were quite reluctant in actually befriending him. with rumors of him being a weirdo—most people often shy'd away from the idea of letting him inside their radars. but you aren't going to let that stop you from—wait, he's actually super sweet? and kind too? surprisingly a huge sweetheart? what kind of plot twist is this?! though the monster he speaks of kind of scares you, you're still terribly attracted like a fly to a light by his strong will to become the best striker in the foreign dimension of soccer. in the end he's just doing what he loves, a good-hearted boy who simply got misunderstood for his obsession with football—oh? why is your heart suddenly picking up its pace?

ITOSHI RIN with...*drum rolls*...quiet kid at the back of your class. 😐 not that surprising is it. anyways, this emo kid is obsessed with soccer, yet still able to keep up with his studies just fine. though he's mostly neutral with everybody, you sometimes fear the he might be plotting all your deaths with that unconventional stare of his that looks like he's constantly displeased. but you eventually come to a conclusion that that isn't the case. you both take the same bus home everyday, and you can confidently confirm that he really just looks like that. the stare only softens when he brings out his phone and starts playing granny or something. not to be a creepy stalker or anything—your field of view just always inconveniently contains him and the contents on his phone! he appears to have a knack for the genre of horror. games, movies, even tutorials. (this lil' cheat—) but of course, for this headcannon to work my way imma have to embarrass you in front of him for chemistry and relationship development purposes :p. so once upon a time, where you're tired as hell after some shit going down in school, you fail to remember your usual spot and slump down onto an open seat beside itoshi rin—who was on his phone paying you zero mind whatsoever, playing a horror game that you recognized to be some popular roblox game. you don't know if it's the tiredness that took over you, or the sole fact that seeing rin play so goddamn horrible on the game got on your nerves up to the point you couldn't hold in your thoughts anymore and outright told him what you'd come to regret in just a few moments—“what the hell, dude. you're terrible. you're supposed to get the key and then—” about to reach for the phone out of sheer frustration, you suddenly pause, realizing what you've just done. oh no. your eyes flicker to his expression and holy crap. rin itoshi is giving you the biggest, bombastic, judgemental, dehumanizing side eye you've ever seen in your life. actually, scratch that—he's full on staring at you like you've just directed 57 slurs at him. you feel like you've shrunk into a mere insect with how intense his stare is, mentally slowly melting into a puddle of shame as you stand up and profusely bow while spewing out pitiful apologies. after a few moments, you hear him heave a deep sigh, you slowly crane your neck up to look at him expectantly—only to find him and his absurdly gorgeous face challengingly raising a brow at you, “then what do you suppose i should do, miss i'm-so-good-at-the-game? please continue.” rin roblox kid confirmed.

ITOSHI SAE as the regular who has caught your eye trope. i really wanted to use childhood friends on this guy with the amount of angst it'd produce but isagi already got the trope so...'eye candy regular at the local coffee shop you work part-time at' trope it is. a bit specific but yeah you get what i mean :). it's hard not to notice this man whenever he comes in with that unfortunately charming blank face of his—so charming that in fact some girls from other nearby schools actually gather to seat themselves and wait for his appearance, shoot their shot with the guy and get immediately shut down with just one cold sweep of his indifferent stare. being pretty sure does have its downsides. you can still feel the shivers from when he full-on glared at a girl who was getting a bit too persistent. you've never really interacted with him aside from taking his regular order, but there's still the underlying fear that he'd cuss you out and embarrass you in front of teenage girls should you get his order wrong so now you have a note plastered onto the wall that always has his regular order tip up to the notch—with a highlighted nickname, “duckbutt james” since you never caught his name. but oh fuck, he sees it one uneventful day and raises a brow at you, nonchalantly and coolly saying that his name is “itoshi sae”. god. is this the part where you roll over and die in shame? why did you even think it was a good idea to put the note in point-blank range?! it's the same as basically shoving it in his face! you think you might pass out—but then suddenly—he smiles. he smiles. what. but it immediately disappears as fast as it came so now you're questioning if you're hallucinating or not. he takes his usual order and heads out once more, but as your head clears itself from the multiple stages of grief you experienced in one singular moment—you think of his name in wonder, finding it terribly familiar. itoshi sae. itoshi sae. itoshi...SAE?! WAIT—

MICHAEL KAISER is definitely enemies to lovers material, change my mind. a football hotshot who has to begrudgingly graduate first before officially signing a contract with the famous german world-wide football team—bastard münchen. at this point in life, he's basically already successful, so he literally just ignores and passes up all opportunities to actually study anything that isn't related to football. he's not a troublemaker perse, but you're convinced the entire faculty staff hates him due to the amount of unnecessary work his laziness spews out, but they would still have to pass him regardless of his lax attitude towards his studies due to the sole fact that the entirety of germany has their eyes on this genius of a prodigy. it was relatively obvious that failing him and delaying his awaited pro-debut would do no good for the name of the school, so he's now spared from the chains of corrupted education. despite being in the same class as him, kaiser was someone you've barely talked to—you both only interacted a grand total of two times. one was regarding a class project, and the other was that time you walked in on him getting confessed to for the what, thousandth time? needless to say, you're both barely acquainted, so being friends was out of the question. besides, it's not like you want to befriend him anyway (y/n moment)—you were both complete opposites. you were a study freak, and he was an infamous prodigy who had a passion for kicking a ball—he's the emperor who lived in a completely different world from your mundane life as a mere commoner in his story.

*rubs hands together* now it's time to get even more delusional, folks. it's just supposed to be a normal day but oh nooo, you're now both forced to fully acknowledge each other's presence after a teacher falsely accuses both of you and sends you to detention—highly biased should you add. it's one of those low teachers that act passive aggressively with his early success. it's bound to get people jealous, but shouldn't you be proud as a teacher? whatever. all that you know is that you're now both stuck in detention and you're blaming him now. you know very well you're both completely innocent so for what exactly are you blaming him? absolutely nothing. you're just bored and michael kaiser was your only source of entertainment in this bland and empty classroom. jabs are thrown around from across the room as you are unable to initiate conversation without you throwing an insult everytime he attempts to flirt with you. you asked him to be quiet? babe, he's going to do the exact opposite. you asked him to shut the fuck up? he'll say the typical 'make me'. your sanity is all but squeezed out of your entire being by the time your detention is over, finally being dismissed for the day until he stops you from actually leaving the room by holding your shoulder in place and asks for your number with a playful wink. you want to slap him, maybe kick his shins, roundhouse him in the face and run away but with the knowledge that you'll both still be meeting in your class the next day is a bitter reminder that you should atleast try to remain civil with this young and growing superstar if you want to survive the school year. albeit begrudgingly—you punch down your numbers into his phone (you put a random number in at first but he quickly confirms it to be false when your phone doesn't receive the message he sent just in-case. tsk.) and immediately leave the premises after he cracks a joke about seeing him tomorrow night for dinner.

unbeknownst to you, he was the one who put the anonymous tip in the school's online forum that falsely landed both of you in detention—all just to get some alone time with you and grab your number without attracting too much unnecessary attention because oh my lord he's genuinely interested in someone who isn't a part of his football kingdom?? wowowowowow

sae reawakened my duckbutt (sasuke) phase ong (also reader doesn't know what the world-class midfielder sae looks like, only his name so that's why she was shocked)

#my bllk phase is THRIVING #and it's all because of this fruity german twink named michael jackson #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #bachira x reader #bachira meguru x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #bllk x you #har❗fiction

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stari-hun · 1 month

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Heinrich and Diggers

The art and shapes.

Both of them make art apart of their entire beings. Each of them see art as apart of life and progress as people. While Heinrich sees art as solely belonging to arcanists, they feel more deeply and according to Arcana magic made the first circle. Shapes are the foundation of art in a lot of ways. Diggers beliefs are that art belongs to everyone and under art we’re all equal, and that art was created and refined under the collaboration between arcanists and humans.

Heinrich sees art as belonging solely to Arcanists. He believes that since Arcanists feel more deeply than humans that their the sole owners of the arts, and become of the group of “elite and noble Arcanists” that the Manus recruits, they hold the right to destroy it. Heinrich recounts in 6.20 about the death of each of his friends due to war. Ironically, his thoughts about destruction of the arts to retain their purity was likely started by Theopil even though Theopil’s goal was to use his art to save everyone.

Diggers on the other hand, believes art is a unifier that belongs to everyone. He believes that both humans and Arcanists both created art, and that art was the thing uniting them all because there can’t be miscommunication in self expression. Digger’s introduction in [Theft of the Rimet Cup] shows this. While he has frequent run ins with the law, Digger’s main goal isn’t to hurt anyone or cause havoc, but to stop everyone’s animosity through art and creating each other’s happiness.

- Side note that [Theft of the Rimet Cup] takes place directly before the prologue starts and ends with Regulus setting off to cut where we see her in the main story.

2.1 / Diggers Anecdote Spoilers under the cut

OMG?!?!?!?

We saw Digger’s Manus outfit when Book 5 [Prisoner in the Cave] dropped, but I didn’t expect them to make it canon??

My theory for what this means is that Digger’s was recruited by the Manus in the same way Heinrich was. They approached him and talked to him about his goals before twisting his own morals to their use. Manus taking him in would also mean that he was a noble?? Considering the vast majority of the Manus’ people are made of Arcanists with noble blood.

I think the story will likely focus on his actions within the Manus and how he came to realize he wanted peace with everyone instead of destroying everything himself. But it be interesting if they gave us insight into the Manus’ recruitment process. We saw how Arcana approached Theopil so maybe they’ll give us insight on how they recruit people entirely.

#yapping #reverse 1999 #e lucevan le stelle #diggers reverse 1999 #heinrich reverse 1999 #theopil reverse 1999 #everything goes back to Theopil #reverse: 1999 #r1999 #re1999 #r99 #honeystar

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givemewallywestorgivemedeath · 1 year

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Okay, hold on for a second, just hold on... You're telling me, that the nightmare magic that makes people live out their absolute WORST nightmares got a hold of Barry... and his worst nightmare is Wally getting hurt?!

I just- I need to sit down for a second. I can't see, it seems to be raining on my face.

This is the Dad™ of all time.

Barry is Dad. Look at that dad

Oh and see this? See how nightmare dream Jay says that Wally randomly 'slowed down' in the fight and that's why he got hurt? How much you want to bet that it'll end up being Barry that causes that? Either Wally-after-Barts-Death: Part 2 Electric Boogaloo where he'll blame himself for using too much speedforce and limiting how much the other could take, or this could potentially be Barry blaming himself for Wally's mental block.

Which would be very interesting because Jay specifies that this happened on 'his watch' in Keystone and Jay was injured. So it could be Barry manifesting his guilt for dying and leaving Wally on his own, because Wally operated in Keystone and was (semi) supervised by Jay. Barry could feel guilty that Jay should've been retired and shouldn't have been out in the field with Wally, and that Wally should've had a mentor that could keep up with him (aka Barry). Plus the fact that Wally went from keeping pace with Barry to barely breaking the speed of sound after Barry's death. It caused Wally a lot of trauma and pain and it was solely due to Wally watching Barry die.

(also Barry not being there when Wally got hurt is very telling. Wally got beaten to a pulp fairly frequently when he first started as the Flash and Barry was 'dead', completely unable to help)

#dc #dc comics #the flash #kid flash #wally west #barry allen #jay garrick

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kurishiri · 2 months

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n.1 . . . “ the betraying hunter is tempted by the death god ”

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties for characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: a bit of joking centered around drugs; if i took a shot every time victor’s eyes were compared to jewels, i don’t know how many shots it would be, but it would probably not be healthy /lh

Victor: Good evening to you. The full moon tonight is quite beautiful, isn’t it.

Roger: Yeah, to an almost irritating degree.

Though I didn’t have much of an eye for appearances, even I could tell this person’s face possessed a striking beauty. And collapsed at his feet,

was the criminal in euphoria as he died.

(There’s no stab wound or any sign of physical trauma. And yet… he’s dead?)

I was curious about the cause of death as a former doctor, but there were more pressing matters right now.

Roger: Would you happen to be the head of ‘Crown,’ which consists solely of Cursed ones?

Victor: Indeed, that is me.

The man flashed me a smile, and in a single blink of the eye—

Roger: …!

The distance between us closed, and he poked my nose with his fingertips.

Victor: Now, I have answered one of your questions. So, would it be fair to ask the same of you?

V: Entry is forbidden in this area even by the police…

V: …which you don’t appear to be one anyway. On top of that, you are not a member of Crown either, so what brings you here?

Those jewel-like eyes seemed to make the heart waver, and they seemed as though they could see completely through me.

(Well, not that I had any intention of faking it ‘til I make it in the first place.)

Roger: See, my dad’s a doctor. So I bring the deceased who have faced strange or inexplicable deaths back for an autopsy.

Victor: That is to say then that you come around when you hear any information on incidents happening out on the streets?

Roger: Yeah, that’s right. That said, I don’t actually have permission to step foot in here, unfortunately.

R: Getting permission would take too much time. I jumped over the fence back there.

Victor: ……… [surprised]

V: Haha, how nice, there’s nothing I like more than naughty boys.

The moment the air around us lightened up, I found the gap between my emotions close.

Roger: There’s a man named Alfons in there, right? He joined Crown a year ago.

R: He and I go back a long way, so that’s how I know of Crown’s existence.

Victor: Crown’s existence should be kept confidential, that Alfons…

Roger: No, he didn’t leak any information about Crown to me.

R: But I can hear sounds from up to a hundred yards away. Because I also hold an unnatural ability as one of the Cursed.

Victor: Hmm…

Roger: Will you let me join Crown? I’m sure I’ll be of use to you in some way.

In order to find a way to rid the world of Curses, I would like to have even just one more sample of a Cursed one.

As such, Crown — an organization consisting solely of Cursed ones — was the ideal place for me to be.

Victor: Crown is a place where the scent of death will follow you where you go. Surely not somewhere you’d choose to go to of your own volition.

Those jewel-like eyes questioned me: ‘And yet, why?’

(Best to keep things simple here.)

Roger: I’ve had a personal interest in Curses, so I’m researching them. You can call it the nature of a former doctor.

Victor: I see. Well then, this is the prime opportunity.

V: I’m sure the choice between taking another ally or having them die upon knowing the existence of Crown is an obvious one.

All he did was say those words with a smile on his face, and yet I felt the night air grow cold.

Victor: Seeing as you have the resolve, I feel you’re well suited for Crown. So, I look forward to working with you, Roger.

He held out his own hand, but all I could do was stare back at it.

Roger: …I’m pretty sure I haven’t given you my name, have I?

Those eyes that seemed to hold jewels simply smiled at me in silence.

The moment I took his hand, it felt deep and dark——the fragrance of night that told me there was no going back, that is.

When I safely joined Crown, my first step was to devise a plan to make a medical record for Victor.

But…

Roger: Victor, do you have time for an exami—

Victor: Ahh, Roger! I managed to get some valuable beer, so how about we have a drink together?

Roger: Beer? Dammit… I know you’re playing dirty.

—— Time skip ——

Roger: Victor, today’s the day you promised I could exami—

William: If you’re looking for Victor, he is currently abroad on orders from Her Majesty. He will return in three days time.

Maybe it was simply the nature of a hunter to have a strengthening desire to chase after those that played hard to catch.

Then, I found my biggest chance — Victor was accompanying someone from America who was a heavy drinker,

and rumors spread that he was intoxicated at the castle.

I approached a certain someone who was sitting with his eyes closed——but.

Victor: If you’re going to jump on someone in their sleep, you should at least spike something with a sleeping drug first, Roger.

His eyes, gleaming like jewels, suddenly opened.

Roger: So you are strong to liquor, aren’t you. ‘Cause if that’s the case, one sleeping drug wouldn’t cut it.

Victor: Oh my, I see you’ve finally managed to find out something about me.

Crown was practically a hub for some strange people, but this person’s enigma seemed to know no bounds.

Roger: Victor. Just what are you?

Victor: Perhaps I may be cursed, but on the other hand, I may also not be.

Roger: What’s that supposed to mean? You were the one who said Crown consisted only of Cursed ones, right?

Victor: Oh, but never once did I say that I was Cursed.

Roger: .........

R: ...You sneaky bastard.

(It’s not as though I’ve given up on finding out more about Victor.)

(But, I also feel it just can’t be helped that I only know so much. Because——)

I felt that he was bearing a darkness alone, one more deep than any of us could imagine.

Roger: ...Well, guess I should let it go as long as I can collect research funds. For now, at least.

I turned to the next medical record.

Roger: Elbert Greetia. Bearer of the Greedy Queen’s Curse.

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full masterlist 💀

#ikemen villains #ikevil #イケメンヴィラン #ikevil roger #ikevil roger barel #roger barel #ikemen villains roger #ikevil victor #ikemen villains victor #cybird ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikemen series #otome game #otome #ikevil translation #ikevil translations

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chthonia27 · 1 month

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Divine paradox

Dick Grayson x F!reader.

Content: Two unlikely souls entwined in a sacred affinity, the dance of Life and Death, a romance etched in the skies.

Tw: nudity, suggestive tone implied.

WC: 2k

Yin and Yang, push and pull. Life and death. That was a dance performed since the beginning of time. The balance needed so that the cosmos don’t devolve into chaos, so that all may know the value of life, and the importance of death. Sat on his throne, dressed in the finest of fabrics and engraving of pure gold, a halo of light surrounding his raven hair, was the God of life, Dick. The benevolent ruler of the universe, creator of all life and love, protector of souls. Everything the god touched, life would prosper. His sacred space, the realm to which he resides in, what could only be described as paradise, paled in comparison to his longing for Death.

He ran a thumb over the carved intricacies of his throne, his pink lips curled into a pout as his soul sang in longing for his counterpart, needing her presence always beside him. The god of life was rather.. clingy, to say the least. Such a primordial would be expected to act impartial, however he was absolutely taken by his love. Huffing and puffing, he bridged the distance to her realm without much difficulty. A cold, lifeless interval, wherein his love resided. Death. Such a misunderstood primordial being. She wasn’t evil by any means, contrary to popular belief. Merely continuing the cycle, no matter how intimidating, or outright spine chilling her presence was, she cared for the souls she looked after and justly punished those who have led less than desirable lives, allowing them to atone and relive the pain they’ve caused before their souls may evolve. She was anything but cruel, forgiving in fact. Comforting the souls of the lost, the sick, the injured and the young, a solace for their frayed souls.

Death. So just, so equal to all, so final. It was beautiful, really. How the creations he’d created with his own essence and loved so dearly would always be in her sweet embrace when the time called for it. Almost as if a piece of him would always be with her, cared for in the darkness of the underworld and in her cold yet loving embrace. At least that’s how he viewed it. The God of Life promptly arrived to the gates of none other than the terror of most entities. Calling out to his love, rather obnoxiously, he entered her realm. Death was.. difficult, to say the least. Authorative, hard headed, cold and incredibly standoffish, she was. But hauntingly beautiful, her entire being called out to the god of life’s like no other, akin to the sea nymphs that lured unsuspecting sailors into the trenches of the dark ocean depths. The moon to his sun, the counterpart to his being, his soulmate. The flower to which the beast of his jealousy guards ever so fiercely. None other designed so perfectly for him, and he for her, an indestructible bond so pure shared between the two divinities, a bond so etched into their souls unlike anything ever seen. She was always so curt and dry, never sparing another glance or thought to other beings of the galaxy, never paying any mind to the fruitless dramas that roamed the community of the gods, focusing solely on her duties. He however coaxed another complex faction of hers since the dawn of time, albeit subtle. Wether it was how he’d always pique her interest, her eyes trailing him wherever he’d advance, or the softening of her gaze and even the way she’d pepper gentle kisses to the slope of his nose and the contour of his jaw in the comfort of their realms, he knew deep within his being that he was loved.

”My Death! Where are you, my love?”, he yelled as he passed her soulless garden. Decaying roses, bare and withering trees along the edges of the stream of souls, dried soil and thorned vines covering the masses of the land, but he could only see beauty in it all. Beauty in her. He made his way to her throne room, the very same one to which all beings would enter and be passed judgment upon. His silk, white robes dragging at the stone as he walked to her, his eyes sparkling with sincere, unmistakable endearment as he eyed her form perched on her throne.

“My Death, there you are. I’ve missed you. Still brooding?” he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips as he kissed her knuckles. “No smile for me? Not even happy to see me? You wound me, dear. I shall die by the cold hands of death herself. Poetic, no?” He complained with no real malice, only meaning to rile her up. It’s fair to say he isn’t the only one who draws out a different narrative from the other, as she always brought out his mischief, his inner most chaos, and yet still displayed in ways that were reverential to her.

“Must you always be so boisterous in your arrival?”

A deep, velvety laugh escaped him as his eyes fixed on her alluring face, the softness of her plush lips pleading to be kissed. “I am simply expressing my enthusiasm for finally being in your presence after eons of not being in your graces, beloved.” She gave him a deadpan expression as she replied, “it has only been an hour since you last left.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“For you.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t suppress the fond smile that graced her ethereal features, in turn igniting a deep sense of satisfaction in the aforementioned god. She lifted herself from her throne and wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling his chest as she inhaled the naturally intoxicating aroma of the earthy and slightly Smokey notes of her beloved.

“Ah, so you do have a heart.”

“Must you always ruin the moment?”

He gasped dramatically, almost shifting his weight completely on her as he feigned faintness. “Beloved! Must you always be so cruel to your husband?!” He bellowed out, his loudness echoing in the throne room in such a way that almost caused him to wince, the weight of his body crushing his beloved and nearly making her loose her footing.

“Ugh! Dick!”

“You remember my name!”

They both knew well she’d intentionally said it with a dual meaning behind her words, but they’d chosen to ignore it for now. He wrapped his hands on the back of her thighs, hoisting her up so that she may wrap her legs over his waist. He pressed a reverent kiss to her collar bone and to the sternum of her chest, nipping lightly at her cleavage before meeting her gaze once more. He simply admired her beauty, one so unmatched and unique, one that plagued his mind and has during his entire existence. A beauty so special he could worship until the ends of time. The look in his eyes could only be described as love-struck, pupils blown wide and his lips parted as he imagined the feel of once more capturing hers in a kiss. She was perfect, the epitome of beauty to him, no other could ever hold candles to his beloved. He closed his eyes and buried his face in the crevice of her neck before setting her down once more.

“Come with me.”

“Oh?”

That piqued his interest, curious eyes searching her face for any inkling as to what she had planned. She took his hand in hers and turned around, leading him from the throne room to her private chambers, and he couldn’t help but notice how hypnotically her hips swayed as she walked. The soulfully tied divinities navigated through the large expanse of the underworld before arriving at her bedchambers, entering the adjoining bathroom. His eyes scanned the area, a large crystal bathtub, that could truthfully be classed as pool due to its sheer size, coated in rose petals, candles situated on every surface of the room. He inhaled deeply, the sweet scent of vanilla tickling his senses.

“What’s this, beloved?”

“I’ve missed you.”

His heart flipped and his chest tightened with affection at her declaration. The love he felt coursing through his veins only sizzled beneath his tanned skin. He gently backed her up on the sink, forehead resting against hers as he kissed the corners of her mouth.

“Let me help you.”

Slowly, he placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs gently rubbing the nape of her neck. “Hm, my love, so beautiful..” His fingers found the straps of her dress, slowly slipping them off her shoulders and lowering them down her arms to expose her skin. Ever so gently, he ran his hands over the now exposed skin, admiring her like it was the first time he saw her nude body.

He slowly untied the back of her dress, lowering it further, the soft, silky material falling to her hips. “My beautiful mistress of death..” He gently pulled her body against his, his hands trailing over her bare chest and stomach. He continued to shower her in kisses, his lips moving down her neck and shoulder, his hand exploring her body. His mouth soon found her ear, his breath warm against her skin as he whispered quietly.

“I’m the most fortunate god in the whole universe.”

Kneeling down, he slid the dress completely off of her, gently lifting her legs and pressing kisses from her calves up to her thighs, worshipping her form with the purest of devotions. Once done, the god stood in between her legs, arms wrapped around her waist as he lowered himself to press a chaste kiss to her lips, tongue darting out to lick along her bottom lip, seeking entry into the warm cavern of her mouth. When permitted, the muscle danced with her own, exploring the familiarity of her as he tugged her impossibly closer, the feeling of her soft hands coming to unrobe him sending shivers down his spine. After the soft material of his clothing had pooled at his feet, he hoisted her up once more and slowly sat in the bathtub, his beloved straddling his lap as he continued the kiss, calloused hands palming at the softness of her skin, then moving to cup her face and run his digits through the silky strands on her head. The aroma of vanilla wafted through the room, the gentle flicker of the flames licking divinely on her features, illuminating her beauty even more. He pulled back only to catch his breath, the sensation of her bare body on his enough to make him want to abandon everything and spend eternity in the safety of her arms. He wordlessly pulled her flush against him, her soft curves contrasting with the hard planes of his hard chest and abdomen, lips coming to pepper kisses on her temples as he began to wash her. Skilled fingers massaging at her scalp, rinsing and repeating his steps before applying the conditioner to her strands. He loved to cater to her, his presence in the cosmos was designed for this. To love her, worship her as she should be. He then began to soothe the knots out of her tense shoulders, lips suckling at her neck, leaving evidence of his love in the physical form, gently washing her stresses away.

After completing their routine, lovingly caring for the other in such cherished ways, they simply continued to hold one another, whispering sweet nothings as the worries of their days melted away into the abyss of the forgotten. The warm water washed over the pair as they embraced, their bodies moulding into one, testament of their affections. Their skin slick and smooth from the water, arms around each other, relishing in the security provided within each other, the consolation of their presence a soothing balm to their souls, a comfort only they could find in each other away from the rest of the cosmos.

In the quietness of their moment, in the safety of their embrace and the intimacy thick with their love, there truly is no other place the god of life would rather be.

“I love you.”

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difeisheng · 2 months

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duel meta — a brief addition

written in reference to the original meta here. i'm making this point its own separate post, as it doesn't fully fit into the thesis of that essay.

in my previous discussion of the donghai duel, i highlighted three lulls in the action where di feisheng could have decided to attack li xiangyi, but didn't, even when he was the one forced into a defensive position. instead he paused, until li xiangyi chose to make a next move against him. my point in talking about these moments was that it demonstrated how di feisheng saw this fight as a proper back-and-forth between equals, not the battle to the death that li xiangyi intended for it to be.

however, what i ignored in that analysis was the point in the duel at which di feisheng moves before li xiangyi, breaking away from their locked blades. it's right after this line:

before this is a cutaway to the battle on the mainland— fire, screams, people on both sides dying. and it's with that carnage weighing on both di feisheng and li xiangyi that di feisheng says this, then shoves aside shaoshi and stabs li xiangyi through the shoulder, pinning him to the roof.

if i had been trying to integrate this into my prior reading of these two's motivations during the duel, this moment would have been an anomaly. my point at the time was that di feisheng pictured the duel as being between two swordsmen, just himself and li xiangyi. while to li xiangyi, this was a battle between sigumen and jinyuanmeng, and the two of them were simply two figureheads. for di feisheng to draw attention to the other fighters he and li xiangyi have with them, is not quite in line with this. i said before that di feisheng purposefully isolated himself on his ship knowing li xiangyi would find him there, as well, so that others in the battle could not interfere.

but, to push that aside and examine this on its own: i find it very interesting that this dialogue, the sole point where di feisheng acknowledges the world beyond the duel at all, is also the singular moment that causes him to alter his previous behaviour throughout the entire fight. it's not li xiangyi attacking him that finally makes him strike first. it's not his own injuries or desire to win, or desperation. it's the awareness of the fact that other people out there are dying while they fight.

di feisheng's leadership of jinyuanmeng warrants a lot more analysis that i'm not going to do here, but to summarize some things myself and others have observed before, he's efficient. he's established the alliance in such a way that there's a clear hierarchy and duties for each person, and that level of organization can function even when he's off dealing with his own matters, communicating things via wuyan. although he shows little interest in managing jinyuanmeng in the present day, i don't think he could've built the alliance up to such a state that it would keep running without him, even while he abruptly went into seclusion for ten years, unless he actually cared about the people who were serving him. and we do his anger when those who were loyal to him die, like when he snaps at jiao liqiao for the deaths of his twelve phoenixes, even though they got a blink-and-you'll-miss-it amount of screentime. they were still important to di feisheng.

(i know jiao liqiao was the one who kept jinyuanmeng going in his absence, but it seems she didn't make any huge changes to how jinyuanmeng was functioning up until di feisheng recovered from his injuries. before that she was ruling, at least outwardly, in his name and interests.)

all this is to say that, looking at his choices in this moment of the donghai duel, i think that that line of dialogue— breaking from his precedent of letting li xiangyi lead the fight— is fascinating characterization to add to di feisheng this early in the show. i've said before that from the moment he appears onscreen, after the opening monologue declaring him a villain and a 大魔头, our expectations of him begin to be subverted. this does honestly alter how di feisheng and li xiangyi could be viewed; di feisheng is now seemingly the one whose people are being attacked and who cannot stand the wasting of unnecessary lives, while li xiangyi is the one who led all this followers to battle for the sake of his dead shixiong's body, and arrogantly miscalculated that he could win.

i love how this show plays with character perception, and how they've built up di feisheng in this way, especially when the majority of his screentime isn't from the source material. this is just one part of it.

#我回来了～#your long-winded meta writer is BACK babey #sorry this isn't very well organized but I've had an up and down night mentally and didn't expect to be writing meta #so. whatever #mysterious lotus casebook #di feisheng #li xiangyi #feihua #dihua #mlc meta #ashton originals

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fan-goddess · 10 months

Note

Hey. I have a request for October.

Modern Aemond. Your husband Aemond does not understand your crush on the new dragon rider on your favorite Show. So. One night he decides to role play your favorite character on your favorite show and sees where the night takes the two of you. The possibilities are endless.

Authors Note: Oooh I like this! Obviously the shows gonna be made up, but not gonna make reader call him the show guys name, as it’d just get confusing for everyone. My keyboard included. Still, i hope you enjoy this and thank you for the request!

Warnings: P in V sex, role play of princess and a protector, reader calls themself a woman, teasing, brat taming, name calling, praising, degrading, fluff (If i've missed any then let me know!)

Taglist: @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @mochi-rose, @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat

You’d only watched twenty minutes of the newest show on Netflix that Baela had recommended to you before you became a woman possessed.

At first, you thought you wouldn’t be that interested in it, given it wasn’t your usual type of programme, which thanks to your husband Aemond, consisted solely of trashy day time tv such as real housewives of Westeros. Yet even you had to admit that after taking one look at one of the main characters, you were obsessed.

“Baela, why didn’t you tell me the main guy was so fucking hot!?” You’d called her soon as the first episode had been finished to rave about the guy. Though as you were talking raving about him, Aemond began to walk through the door with you being none the wiser while you were still on the phone.

“I never thought I’d find him so hot! Though I must say I wouldn’t mind riding him with that dragon between his legs!” You giggle, oblivious to your husband standing behind you with a raised brow and an amused smile painted on his face.

“Would you now?” Aemond says as he creeps up behind you, causing you to practically shriek in surprise and nearly throw your phone at him in a sort of self defence.

“Seven hells Aemond you scared me half to death!” You glare, the phone in your hand still on the call to Baela, who you can hear begin to laugh loudly after hearing your surprised shriek and angry words.

“Nevermind that! Whose this super hot guy you wouldn’t mind riding the dragon of then?” He grins, leaning over the sofa to look at the character paused on screen.

“Well, his names Malakai, and he’s the rider of the fiercest dragon in the world!”

“He looks like a twat.” He bluntly states, grinning slightly in amusement when you gasp at his words and begin to valiantly say praise to the character in defence. You still shout at him when he walks away to make himself a coffee, and continue to say supportive things about the character when he’s walking in with the coffee for himself, and a tea he made for you just how you like it.

“Seven hells love you’ve barely started episode two!” He groans as he sets the drinks down and gets a better look at the paused show name displayed on the screen.

“And?! I love him either way!” You insist, smiling over your own dramatics whilst you sip at your drink with a content sigh.

“Oh yeah? Do you love him more than me my love?”

“Oh I dunno…. possibly? He does ride the largest dragon in the world?” You smile, blinking your eyes in innocence. Yet that charming smile diminishes when you see his furrowed brows and annoyed eyes. “Aemond?” You call to him. Yet he ignores you and walks to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

You come in the door ten minutes later after allowing him to calm down to apologise to him, and yet those ten minutes was all Aemond needed to order a duplicate of this Malakai fuckers costume, largest dragon in the world not needed.

The large picture of the company's logo, showing where Aemond ordered the costume from, lies there clear as day on the side of the box. And does little to stifle your curiosity when Aemond has to quickly snatch the package from your eager hands before you begin to rip it open there and then.

“What is it?! You rarely order stuff online and I don’t recognise the name of the brand! Come on tell me pleeeease!” You beg, running up to his retreating form and wrapping your arms around his waist in an attempt to make him stop. Only it does nothing as he continues to walk towards the kitchen countertop.

“You’ll find out tomorrow love, how about that? Do you think you can be a good girl and not search up the company while you’re at it? I’ll be sure to give you a big reward if you’re good…” Aemond smiles as he chucks the package on it and intertwining his large hands with yours, loving the way he can practically hear your breath hitching at his not so subtle suggestive tone.

He turns around, and kisses you deeply. His fingers curling in the length of your hair to keep you close, before suddenly pulling away and chuckling at your pouty expression.

“Later love… tomorrow even. After work, I’m gonna surprise you. And hopefully you’ll love it…” Aemond grins, giving you a peck on the lips as some kind of replacement, that he already knows is not an equal exchange.

Still, that next afternoon like Aemond said, he’d set up everything he needed for it to be perfect.

The costume itself looks identical to the picture, even if it was slightly snug in certain places...

Still it didn’t matter. As Aemonds own self doubts held the reigns the minute he heard the familiar sound of your keys opening the door, following by your typical shout of a greeting you did soon as you got in and took your shoes off at the.

Only when Aemond didn’t respond with his own little greeting, you came looking. Which is when you found him laying there on the bed, fully decked in an exact replica of Malakais costume. Hair even straightened and tied up to give it that extra effect.

And he gets that exact reaction he was hoping for, as a small gasp of surprise you can't stop leaves him with many unholy thoughts.

“Princess, what are you doing alone? As the rider of the largest dragon of the world, it is my duty and honour to protect you against people who wish to harm you…” Aemond purrs, getting up from the bed to walk over and place a delicate hand on your cheek, in which you seem to instinctively nuzzle into.

“Yes my lord I apologise… it’s just, I wish to see my people. Is that so wrong my lord Aemond?” Your eyes flutter in innocence, and it takes everything within him to not grab you, bend you over the nearest surface and take what is his. But he knows he must play the game to reap the reward. You...

“Yes princess there is! There are dangerous people who lurk around any corner and wish to harm you! I cannot allow you to be so relentlessly reckless!” The frustrated role he plays is perfect, but to his shared annoyance and delight, so is your actions at playing the bratty princess.

“I don’t need you to protect me Aemond! I am a trained princess of the fucking realm! Not some helpless peasant-“ His hand works before he can think, as it moves to roughly take hold of your chin, effectively stopping you from speaking, but allowing a small gasp of surprise to be released.

The best part is, Aemond doesn’t even know if it was intentional or just out of genuine surprise of the movement.

“A good princess doesn’t swear at her protecter. She’s grateful for them risking their lives for her. Don’t you agree, princess?”

You nod your head, and yet that isn’t enough. As his grip tightens and his lips curl into a snarl. “You fucking answer your protector when he asks you a question princess!”

“Yes I understand Aemond!” Your voice is breathless, and it leaves a cruel stain of a smile on his face as he makes a look of realisation.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you princess? Me manhandling you all roughly… say it!” His grip on your jaw tightens only by a fraction, and yet it’s enough to allow another pretty audible whimper to leave your lips.

“Yes Aemond! I’m enjoying the feeling of you treating me like this!”

“I bet you’re fucking soaked through those small clothes of yours… your pretty little cunt just aching to be filled by a cock like mine huh? Tell me princess, are you a maiden?”

You nod your head, but as Aemonds face turns thundering for a moment you remember your place, and the words come gushing out with no real sense of placing. “No Aemond I’m not a maiden! But i-I don’t wish for you at all I swear it!”

“Oh really? Is that so? Well, it looks like I’m protecting a whorish princess it seems… I bet you’re lying though. I bet, that if i was to get on my knees before you and peel back your smallclothes, they’d be fucking drenched in your sweet delicious juices… would you like me to check for you princess? I am your servant by technicality, and I live to serve you fully…”

Disagreements leave your lips quickly in regards to his statement, and yet that doesn’t stop Aemond from picking up suddenly and dropping you carefully on the edge of the bed, before he gets himself on his knees before you, placing rough callous hands on your upper tights to stop you from squirming away from his hold.

“Fucking beautiful….” Aemond groans, moving to undo the belt holding your work trousers and pull them down with only one hand. An act you can’t help but find arousing as anything as you gasp lightly at the savagery of it all.

Yet you don’t have time to react fully though, as his lips and tongue attach themselves to your sodden lower half, the half growls and groans Aemond lets out as he tastes you only driving your further and further down the path of insanity.

“Oh gods Aemond, so good!” You whine, your hands weaving themselves in his hair to tug and dig your nails in his scalp. The feeling only heightening his pleasure

His lips and tongue double in the efforts for you, and he’s rewarded dutifully when he feels you cum hard on his tongue.

The taste of you covers his tongue fully and he can't help but groan at the taste. Yet Aemonds appetite isn’t yet fully satisfied, as his cock still aches and pulses in his trousers. His hands eagerly work at the frustrating belts on his costume to allow himself to be fully nude with you. The rumpled clothes falling somewhere in the room whilst your own eyes now roam over his form just as brazenly as he had looked at yours.

He swiftly enters you, the both of you hissing lightly at the intense feeling. Yet it takes no time for Aemond to thrust at a harsh pace. His hands gripping your thighs while he moves your legs to your chest, your legs pressing against his chest as he has you in a into a mating position where all your feeling are heightened and your whole body feels like it’s aflame.

His eye watches your body eagerly as he sees your breasts begin to bounce with the harshness of how he was thrusting into you. Though the patch he wears digs into his skin slightly, so with renewed vigour, as he continues to thrust into you he uses one hand to keep you steady whilst the other haphazardly undoes the patches clasp and flings it somewhere in the room.

And when you look in his eyes, both his working and fake one, he can clearly see the admiration and love in them shining through. Even when he's fucking you within an inch of your life...

You however don’t even know what it is your moaning anymore. All you know is that you’re loud, and Aemonds own groans growls and dirty words match yours in some kind of kinky symphony.

“Doing such a good job princess…. Doing so fucking well for me…” and when you manage to moan out how you were gonna cum soon for him, Aemond eagerly tries to push himself deeper inside of you. His grip on your legs tightening to an almost bruising feeling as he feels your walls begin to spasm around his cock harshly. The feeling alone drawing out that electric feeling that starts roughly tingling down the length of his spine.

“That’s it princess fucking moan for me just like that!” He groans, his thrusts losing rhythm as he allows himself to get lost in the feeling of your walls pulsing around him whilst he ruts with only the feeling of completetion flowing through his veins. A long drawn out groan releasing deep from his chest as he allows himself to cum as deep as he can inside of you, not pulling out till his orgasm stops.

Still, as Aemond collapses to your side, it’s like clockwork when he opens his arms slightly to allow you to cuddle into his side, nuzzling into the curve of his neck with a dazed smile.

“You were so good for me princess…” He grins, kissing the crown of your head affectionately whilst you preen at the praise.

“I should be saying that to you baby! I wanna ask though… what brought on that whole thing huh?” Your head tilts up slightly to look at him in the eye, and yet he can’t help but admire how soft you look in that moment.

The sun is setting currently, and where you lay on his chest, it shines perfectly through the window to create an almost halo effect around your head. His angel sent from heaven for him to defile and cherish.

You’re so beautiful in fact that within that in that moment, he almost forgets the question you ask him.

“Oh um, just thought it’d be fun given how enamoured you were with him and all...” Nothing could hide the bitterness in Aemonds tone then, no matter how much he tried to bury it down. Because who in their right mind would be jealous of a fictional character on a screen? He, he would apparently.

"Oh Aemond.." You sigh, moving so you can give him small soft kisses against his lips that he welcomes gladly with a small content noise of his own. When you move away again, he even makes a small whine younger him would've killed him for making. But screw that old version of himself. He's happy as he can be in that moment with a beautiful angel in his bed that loves him, so why should he bother with hiding himself? "You don't need to be jealous of him! He's just an onscreen crush! I don't even find the actor that cute!"

"Good. I would've killed him otherwise..."

"Oh really? And how would you do that love?" You laugh, laying your head on his shoulder so you can look at him better. The way the light shines on him and reflects off his sapphire makes him look like some sort of Greek god. Your Greek god...

"Accident. It happens all the time these days with celebrities right?" Aemond laughs, matching you as he pulls you in as close as he can whilst you giggle into the skin of his neck. He's never felt such love for another person before. But he's glad hes found and got you in his life.

"I love you princess..."

"I love you too my dragon..."

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natureboy96 · 2 months

Text

In Support of Tamlin - characters who have done terrible things and been redeemed

Here we go with another one :p I think that Tamlin has done things that are unforgivable, mostly his abusive treatment towards Feyre. I don't think this one terrible thing makes him irredeemable, and has made effort to be better than he was at his worst, and I do dislike the thought of people/characters being judged solely by their worst actions without a chance to be better. So, in support of the idea that Tamlin deserves a redemption arc for his good deeds after his bad ones, I want to start compiling a list of characters who, like Tamlin, have done terrible things and still found a way to be better, if not good outright. And of course, SPOILERS FOR THE FOLLOWING CHARACTERS/STORIES

Feel free to add your own in response, in the comments or in reblogs!

Zuko, from Avatar: the Last Airbender - his actions: lead a chase to kidnap the avatar, physically fighting and hurting the main cast, burning a village down, threatening violence on citizens, stealing goods and food from citizens, helping overthrow an entire kingdom, betraying his Uncle who only wanted him to be the best he could be. His redemption: trains Aang to fight and defeat his abusive father, thus saving the nation he helped conquer and the world at large while helping the individual members of the main cast with personal problems, apologizes to his Uncle.

Loki, from the MCU - his actions: acts of terrorism, murder and betrayal of his family, mind controlling people to do evil against their will, multiple attempts at murdering his brother. His redemption: After the death of his mother, Loki works with Thor to avenge her death and later unite against world ending threats multiple times

Filip Nagata, from The Expanse: His actions: the son of a megalomaniac, he commits multiple murders in the name of his father and is in part responsible for dropping asteroids on earth, killing millions of people in the event and aftermath. He kidnaps his mother and physically strikes her, at his father's encouragement. His redemption: this one is ongoing, last we see. After his mother's words while she was held prisoner make him realize how much pain he inflicted, he leaves his father's ship, changes his last name to his mother's and spends the rest of his life trying to do good, knowing it won't ever make up for the harm he was a part of causing. not sure if it counts as redemption fully, but it's an attempt to do better with the life his mother helped save.

The Beast, from Beauty and the Beast: His actions: He was a cruel and selfish youth, turned away old ladies into the cold, raged and berated his servants, imprisons Belle's father then takes her prisoner in exchange, intimidates and frightens Belle with his rage, threats and destruction of property. His redemption: saves Belle from a pack of wolves, learns to be considerate of her needs and interests and how to be kind, releases her from his captivity when he realizes he has feelings for her and she needs to rescue her father

Baptiste, from Overwatch: His actions: working with an infamous mercenary which was responsible for several high profile assassinations and civilian casualties. His redemption: Leaving said mercenary group and trying to use his healing knowledge to help where he can.

Luke Castellan, from Percy Jackson Series: His actions: looking for revenge against his father, he works with the evil titan Kronos to try and overthrow the gods, rallying armies of monstrous creatures, stealing from the gods and attempting murder on his friends multiple times, nearly bringing about the end of the world. His redemption: after attempting to flee and abandon Kronos' army when it became too much for him, he ultimately stops the titan from being fully reborn by sacrificing himself, dispersing the titan's essence so he could never (hopefully) reform and be a threat again.

Alexis Rose, from Schitt's Creek: Her actions: She acts selfishly in regards to her needs/wants, lies to Ted about wanting to marry him to avoid difficult conversations and sleeps with Mutt while they were engages. Her redemption: Alexis learns to become a better, well rounded person, recognizes her mistakes and takes ownership for them by apologizing, And becomes a person willing to put another person's happiness and needs above her own, even if it means losing someone she loves.

Michael, from The Good Place: His actions: as a literal demon, he's spent innumerable years torturing humans in the afterlife, making it his goal to create new and innovative methods of torture when he creates the false Good Place. His redemption: after being forced to ally with the humans he had planned on torturing to save himself, he comes to understand human morality and becomes a deeply moral person himself, at points willing to sacrifice himself to save the humans he'd initially intended to torture and working to make the afterlife a better place for all humanity.

Ebenezer Scrooge, from A Christmas Carol: His actions: Aside from being personally stingy with his money, he is cruel to everyone he interacts with, including his employee and his nephew, giving the former barely enough to support his large family despite the work he does. His redemption: after seeing where his life went wrong, so to speak, and how his actions impact his present and his future, he decides to become kinder and more generous with his money and affection, making sure Tiny Tim receives the care needed so he lives to grow up.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #tamlin acotar #acofas #pro tamlin #character redemption arcs

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the-last-thread-of-my-sanity · 8 months

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Armin’s character and what he represents about bravery within the story means so much to me.

I feel like so often in shonen and general action story media traits like ‘bravery’ and ‘courage’ are considered synonymous with strength or risk-taking- and that’s certainly accurate in a lot of cases. But just like in so many other ways, AOT subverts or critically examines this trope within its characters- particularly in the main trio of the cast.

It’s so easy to reduce Armin to his easiest defined trope- the smart one- and while that’s definitely true and you could write a million meta essays on his intelligence, strategic thinking, etc, I think we don’t talk enough about the ways Armin’s character begs the audience to reexamine what it means to have strength and bravery.

Armin’s strength is not in the physical realm (although it’s worth dedicating another post entirely to the fact that Armin is certainly not that weak either- simply the weakest of an already exceptional group) and his strength is not solely his mind either. But also his determination, conviction, and the way he is willing to sacrifice himself to save others with hardly a second thought- all while not being as rash as Eren and Mikasa can be.

In a recent rewatch of the Trost Arc, there were so many moments that stood out to me that I had previously either taken for granted or not noticed the significance of. In that arc alone, after Eren’s “death” -

He follows Mikasa without hesitation to rescue her when she runs out of gas

Offers Mikasa his gas canisters and blades knowing he won’t survive without them

Defends Eren to the Garrison (this is obviously a pretty big moment that isn’t usually overlooked, of course)

Rushes off from the decoy squad and runs the ENTIRE length of the Trost district wall when he sees the red smoke flair- just to be there to help Mikasa and Eren

Stays by Eren’s titan form on foot in a titan infested area right before he places the boulder

And there’s probably some more I missed.

Armin at this point in the story has no false confidence about his ability to survive- in fact he probably has an abysmal lack of confidence that he can’t affect much, but he does it anyway.

(Obviously, this self-sacrificial tendency reaches a head and ultimately culminates in the sacrifice of his life in the mission to retake Shiganshina…)

All of this to say, what Armin represents about bravery and courage is so important to me because he dedicates his life with the purest of intentions- he is not scared of death in such a noble way and he brings it up again and again. He would die for the cause- nearly does.

Which I think creates an interesting parallel between him and Eren in the sense that Eren is frequently referred to as a “suicidal maniac”- clearly meant to refer to the reckless way he rushes into danger. Whereas Armin’s instinct towards self-sacrifice is never viewed this way, because it’s not a glaring flaw in the same way that Eren’s behavior is.

Another way the story examines this is through his interactions with Annie- who is opposite in that she is fiercely dedicated to her own survival at any cost. This is brought up in their interaction during the ODM gear inspection when she asks him if he would die if someone ordered him to and he easily answered that he would. Armin’s ability to understand this difference between himself and Annie without judging her for it is also unique to him.

Because Armin doesn’t expect anyone else to give their life or view others as cowards for not rushing into danger- because he sees the value in every life. He just feels the cost of his own life would be worth it to preserve someone else’s. It’s this love for humanity and unwavering optimism at the core of his character that gives him so much conviction.

And like so many others have pointed out, this is what saves him (and, to an extent, later the world) in the end when it comes to Levi’s choice to revive him. Erwin was successful because he was able to set aside his humanity and sent countless soldiers to their deaths to gain victory. Armin, more than anyone else in the story, was able to plan and make a difference in such a way that always assumed he would either ask others to take an equal risk or put himself at more risk to reach the goal. And he wasn’t driven by anger, hatred, or rage to do it.

Clearly, there’s a lot that can be said about the way Armin shows strength and bravery in dire situations without being, stereotypically, the strongest character- or even the die-hard risk taking typical protagonist that Eren represents for most of the story.

But I think ultimately the story is trying to show us that Armin’s version is the version that is within reach for everyone- and that will make the biggest difference in not just winning a battle but in making a better world. And it’s so important to me that AOT- despite being such an inherently violent story- took the time to present that message as emphatically as it did.

#armin arlert #eren yeager #annie leonhart #levi ackerman #erwin smith #aot meta #aot analysis #long post #character analysis #this is the result of three days of brainrot rattling my skull #armin is best boy material but like in a viscerally literary way okay?

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evilvillainapologist · 1 year

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Oh, but Wu Xi is everything Helian Yi could not be to Jing Qi.

He is the one who sees him. Who waits for him patiently for half a year to return, while Helian Yi first and foremost waits for results, not the person.

It's not even subtext. That one is pretty much text. But it's more than that.

Throughout the entire story, Helian Yi and Jing Qi are connected through their scheming of getting HY on the throne. From what we learn of Jing Qi's first lifetime, it seems to have been the same back then.

Wu Xi is the only one not connected to that plot at all. He does not care about it much. He is around solely for Jing Qi, only interested in him as a person, does not actually need him to succeed on his own throne, he has that baby in the bag.

During every lifetime, Helian Yi finds something more important than Jing Qi. Something to take his attention. To keep him from being with Jing Qi.

Wu Xi, on the other hand? He chooses to place Jing Qi first. When Helian Yi marries an official consort, Wu Xi decides that he will only marry Jing Qi. Who cares about offspring, or the opinions of others? Who cares that he is state leader and has to protect his image? He marries for love, while Helian Yi eschews love to marry.

Wu Xi chooses Jing Qi and does so aggressively. No subtext. Boy goes all out. After six (five) lifetimes of having to run after his fated love, Jing Qi now gets to be the one who is courted. He does not have to work for this love, does not have to sacrifice, never. He is allowed to take and indulge and let himself be loved, just like that.

For five lifetimes, Helian Yi was the source of Jing Qi's death. Either he killed him outright, or he caused his death. But then, when Jing Qi is once again this close to dying for him, practically already given up on life, Wu Xi appears and saves him. Wu Xi does not demand that Jing Qi dies for him, he demands that Jing Qi lives for him.

Helian Yi is Jing Qi's death.

Wu Xi is his life.

#qi ye #lord seventh #jing beiyuan #jing qi #wu xi #priest

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rise-my-angel · 1 year

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Heart of the Great Wolf

16 - Ashes of Various Grey

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

Length: 16.1k

Warnings: Angst/hurt comfort, character death, mention of child death, description and threats of violence, mental duress, execution, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, possessiveness

Notes: The length is absurd because I have zero self control, but hey part 4 starts today. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

Shireen had always been as fascinated by the Targaryeans as she was fearful of them. Many years she had spent asking and wondering if the dragons carved into stone of the ornate castle would one day come to life, always in a fear. Yet you could recall the books she had on them, her favourites always being about Aegon’s conquering. Part of you had always wondered if it was growing up on Dragonstone that caused the interest. The volcanic rocky terrain that surrounded your home, the impossibly beautiful yet terrifying design of the castle itself with dragons atop pillars and towers. All mixed with the looming not so distant history that you and her grew up in the very place that homed the dragon riders that would soon conquer the lands.

You never cared much for it, not for the stories, not for the dragons and not for the oddness of the Targaryeans and their strange and unseemly ways of life. But she did, Maester Cressen once said that teaching her to read was a terrible idea since it took him days to get her to pay attention to any other lessons once she started understanding the words of history. She yearned for adventure, and you had always spoken of many and the older she got the bigger the adventures were promised. Dragonstone was no place for a girl like her to grow up but you made it work as best you could to see her smile.

You told yourself it was hypocritical. You had refused to let the Nights Watch and Wildings burn Jon’s body and yet you let the same fate be that for your baby sister. Trying to tell yourself that the Targaryeans burned the bodies of their dead, and following a ritual of something that fascinated the girl was one last indulgence of her passions. But part of you, knew it was childish desperation.

You didn’t do what you had done, for them. Not for the red woman, not for her god, and not for whatever visions she saw in the flames that demanded a sacrifice. You had given her a death that would end the suffering she was laying in. Almost unrecognizable from what her own mother let happen, kept asleep with essence of nightshade solely because the pain alone could end her. She cried and begged to you it was a mistake, but she let it happen. She allowed Melisendre to drag your sister onto a pyre and only cried for it to stop when her screams became too much. She died without knowing you came back to her, and it was their fault. It was your mother and this red priestess that whispered in her ear.

But perhaps burning her, wasn’t just for Shireen. You woke from what felt like the dead to a life with none left in it. Robb and your son dead without you, most of his and your family dead across the lands and finally as you found your way back to some, you found just more death. She had said burning that of King’s Blood was a sacrifice needed, and perhaps if there was the slightest chance giving Shireen to the fire would find a way to bring your father back maybe you should just do it. She was already gone, and burning bodies was the way the far North did things now but perhaps a tiny helpless part of you wondered if it would bring Stannis Baratheon back.

You had no idea if he had died hating you, still thinking you as a traitor but perhaps it would be easier to look at the cold hateful eyes of him, then it was to look at nothing left but quiet.

One day had been spent thrown back into the duty of a leader and yet every single choice you made was done alone, done out of desperation, and every single thing just felt like you were nothing of a leader that the King’s once around you were.

The cold of the night was painful, stinging your face and hands as you walked through the tunnel hearing the whirling of wind ting in your ears. The sheet of white in your arms was all you’d allow anyone to see. She didn’t deserve to be remembered this way, she deserved to be remembered as the girl she once was.

Coming to the end, the land opened up to a vast clearing that led into the darks of a forest you had seen in your dreams. The fire was no ceremony, no ritual to be done. Small enough for a girl.

Your mother stood beside Ser Davos on the right in front of him, and you could see Theon and Edd standing a smaller distance away keeping watch. None said a word as you approached. Your eyes far off as your lungs refused to even breathe. Gently, you knelt down to lay her on the flattened pyre. Running a hand over where the top of her hair lay under the sheet. She deserved more then this.

Coming up to your side, Tormund held a torch as he crouched beside you. Most wouldn’t speak a word in such a situation, but you found a small appreciation in how comfortably he approached you. Voice low and grumbling as he watched. “Why bring her out here to do it?”

There was a gentleness in the way you looked and touched her that was uncommon of most everyone he had met. You wanted to smile at the memory, but you felt only the way the dagger so easily slid into the base of her skull. “She had never even left home before this. She always dreamed of adventures and the last time I saw her, I’d promise to take her on one.”

He had told Jon once that once they burn their dead that’s it, there’s nothing else to it. But then there was the anger in finding his body, the way Edd had closed Jon’s eyes as he spat that some fucker had butchered him. And now in the way you looked like this was the one last tie to the world before you faded away forever, you weren’t speaking to him really. The whisper for the girl under the sheet.

“I know it’s not where I said I’d take you. I’m sorry I couldn’t fulfill my promise, but beyond the wall is as far as either of us have ever been. A small adventure is still an adventure none the less, right?” Leaning down you pressed one last gentle kiss to her forehead before Tormund handed you the torch.

Both standing up, you placed it down onto the wood before backing away to stand to the left of your mother and Davos. The flames lit and burned in flickering quiet, the crackling of wood all there was to hear and none of the screams that haunted the night before in the chaos.

Your face was still, unmoving and in life’s previous you’d have wondered if you looked cold and uncaring but you knew the tears slipping from your eyes as you watched the fire consume more of her, they all could see. Your pain sat right in the colours of your eyes and as you looked into the flames you saw nothing. Whatever visions were said to be there, you only found the last of those who held your heart and a life of darkness alone in the hours of the next morning to await what was left of you.

The only ones left were three of you. Edd continued to watch, and would make sure you got safely behind the wall once you were ready to go back through the tunnel. Tormund had no reason to stay with you as you watched, but you were glad he did. None of this should have mattered to a man like him, but in his own mind, Jon mattered to him and you mattered to Jon. Which meant you were someone who mattered to Tormund now.

The only other friend you had left was in Theon, but there was betrayal, pain, and blood in that history. At least in Tormund the pain that greeted in less horror and agony then the other.

Neither man said a word as the remains of the fire smouldered and little was left in it to be recognized by any. Uncaring of the remaining heat, you knelt down and gathered a handful of ash and bone left behind in a small pouch keeping it in the same pocket a small paper flower sat as well. The final thing you could do for her, was keep something of Shireen with you for wherever this tormenting life had in mind for you.

She wanted to go with you on grand journeys and you would take her there.

Left alone as the gates closed behind you, you leaned against the back of a wall and looked up to the glow of the moon. The yard mostly empty as scattered men kept their distance and words to themselves. The tears were still fresh, but you did not wipe them away. Let the gods see you cry for the last of those you love they tore away from you.

Maybe they would finally see fit to end such cruelty.

The stars shined bright in that cold. Mocking you for how much the world around you was the same without having a place for you anymore. Like no matter where you searched, no matter what you did or spoke, part of you had been ripped away so deeply that night and you found nothing to heal it. Nothing that gave you purpose and it all felt futile, like more then people you loved had died, but as if you died and the part of you which came back was just like this night.

It looked clear, the skies beautiful and bright but there was nothing within you but the bitter cold in your lungs and a missing purpose. The path to your fathers quarters was hollow. Gently draping the coat over a shelf, and sitting down in the dim room at his desk felt even worse. The letter weighed so heavily in your pocket that taking it out and tossing it’s folded contents onto the desk almost felt like a shift that left you lightheaded. With it you gently laid both the little flower under what was left of her on the desk as well.

“I will cut out your bastard heart and make her watch.”

“Let you freeze to death next to the bastard who loved you so much.”

The voices passing back and forth in the forefront of your mind as your fingers reached up to where you had laid Longclaw out on top. The pommel even in the light of only the window’s moon, the red jem shined against the carving of the wolf. Jeor Mormont had seen so much in him, that he had the bear remade not just into a Direwolf, but into Jon’s Direwolf. Had given him a sword that once his families for five centuries, and then so betrayed by his own son sat with the man for over twenty years.

He had seen something in Jon that had him dedicated to giving it to him, but felt worthless under your own touch. You had earned nothing, but as long as you were here it seemed it was entrusted in your care. The people looked at you in a silent reverence at the person long thought to be dead and all you had done was make decisions you had no way of knowing if they were even decent.

You had never had to lead like this alone. You hadn’t led anything in over a year, and now you were to do it by yourself and maybe it was a test of how incapable you were. A high ranking man of the Night’s Watch executed under your command only a day after their Lord Commander was murdered, who was supposed to take charge of a mantle so few understood.

His closest companions heard enough about you to trust, but you weren’t Jon and you couldn’t be a leader like him. As you ran your fingertips over the carved teeth you felt that twisting in your stomach that had you put any food in it, may have come right back out. But much like since you found yourself awake, you had little desire for anything but a sleep that never ended.

A scratching at the door is what finally grabbed your attention, scratching and whine that you knew could only come from one animal. As you opened it, you were nearly tackled by Ghost who was suddenly far more energetic then he had been since you arrived. Reminding you more of the puppy you left him as then the unusually intense and aggressive demeanour he had all day.

Leaning down slightly you ran a hand over the side of his face as he whined. Turning in place and beckoning you to come with him, and a whine that seemed more urgent then before. Looking to the outside nothing you could see looked dire but you felt an inkling in your stomach that felt more confusing then sickening.

Glancing back inside, you grabbed Longclaw keeping it tight in your grip as your other hand closed the door behind you. “Alright, it’s alright Ghost. Show me what’s wrong.” Your voice was low and steady but your heart pounded as the direwolf led you down to the ground level and over to the one place you didn’t want to be.

Opening the harsh doors, a few stragglers noticed the grimness of the sight and wondered just what the Direwolf was leading you into but the idea hit both them and you. The stairwell into the main halls of the ice cells was just as it was before. Saving itself from a pitch black only from scattered torchlight.

Your steps echoed against the stone as your breath increased in nervous pants the closer you got to where you didn’t wish to see at this moment. But the cell door, was slightly open and you stood frozen beside Ghost. He just look up at you with another whine, your hand gripping the sheath with one hand and the other tightly against the sword’s mantle as you finally walked forward.

You had told them, you’d handle it. You would deal with the consequence of not burning his body and now it seemed as your final punishment you would have to deal with it now. Dreams long passed of bodies raising up with eyes just as blue as the figures in the night you dreamt of, along the cries of infants. You knew the stories, and you knew the threat that had taken over the worries of all this far North.

It was now though that you’d face it for the first time and it couldn’t be towards a worse opponent. But as the slight open door came into your eyes, you could see nothing outright. Pushing it open only enough that it let you slip inside and Ghost behind you, you didn’t notice you had lived this mistake before as a girl. Outside in the training yard of Winterfell and then too, you hadn’t thought of checking corners or watching for what was coming up behind you.

Stepping towards the iron bars which still had yet to be locked, there no longer was anything there to keep guard. And that was the problem. Your eyes widened, and your heart felt painful inside you as you looked to where you knew for sure you had left him but there was no one.

Ghost had walked to the other side of the room, your eyes glancing to meet his red ones with a sharp panic until it swelled into a fear that sent you turning around, your grip on Longclaw loose enough you almost dropped it. The heavy metal door you walked in though, right behind you now, slammed shut with an echoed thud.

Turning in place though, you could see a hand press down on the lock before you met their eyes. Eyes, that weren’t a crystallized blue, but a grey so dark they appeared almost black.

Neither of you spoke a word in that moment, your heart stopped in your chest as your muscles all shook in such a shock it glued you in place. Just as he looked only with colour and life breathed back into him and far less dead, Jon looked at you with as much of an intensity as you felt.

Instinct told you to fight in fear of what was warned to you, but nothing of what was to be seen was found. It wasn’t a standing corpse in front of you, but just an older, more wild Jon Snow as alive as you were. His own eyes were as incapable of staying in once place as yours, but his feet stepped forward towards you.

Both your breathing was heavy as you dared step forward as well and yet still you saw nothing dead in his eyes. Just as full of words and emotions as he always lived in them and they looked over you as your mouth parted open in words that refused to speak outloud.

You didn’t know when you dropped the sword, but it now lay useless on the ground as you and Jon stood so close in front of each other you could feel the warmth he always gave off even in a place so cold as this. A pain in his eyes that almost looked like he would fall apart was too much, but yet your own found the same place that sickened you hours ago.

Your fingers reaching up, and just as they did before, gently pushed the edges of his shirt aside and ran gently over the wound over his heart. Only this time there wasn’t cold under it, but that of a beating heart as your breathing picked up heavier. Trailing down over the others they were as real as they had been before.

Jon’s own hand reached up, causing you to pause but not look away. Pushing the material up and up until his large, calloused hand ran over the just as mortal, deep scar across your stomach until his palm laid almost flat across it. Like he knew exactly what he was looking for and as your head rose up to look at him, there was such a deep seething anger in his eyes as he looked where he was touching.

Finding the others gaze, you searched for something to say, but your heart was so heavy and so flipped around inside you stammered silently as he looked at you the same. Such a silent whisper in your voice yet it felt like it screamed in the small room. “You were....”

His voice sent something running through your veins, something that burned and shivered down every inch of your nerves as you finally heard it. That deep, low rasping husk of a voice that could entrance you, roughly looked at you with his own pain behind it, a hand still on your own scar. “So were you.”

Not another word was let out though, or even a thought for you finished. Only a moment passed between you, before Jon’s hands reached up to cup both of your cheeks.

Taking you by suprise, he pulled you up while he also leaned down to meet, Jon roughly pressed his lips to yours and suddenly that burning turned into an overwhelming scream in your head. A feeling that took over and shoved out every other thought and sense, as you meekly steadied yourself with hands at his waist. His lips were rough with you, demanding but refused to give you any space to breathe before he turned your body himself and you were shoved roughly into the wall beside you.

Jon pressing his own body tight against you as he moved to hold your jaw and keep your kiss as deep as he could while his other hand ran down and in a second, only pulled from you to suddenly yank your shirt up over your head. The cold of the cells striking over your skin as Jon gritted his teeth in a hiss as his eyes trailed over your bare breasts. You looked at him with a need that you hadn’t felt in such a manner in your entire life, folding instantly into him as he roughly kissed you once more.

His hands reaching up and grasping at your breasts, groping tightly and running his thumbs intently over your nipples until he heard you whine against his mouth. You arched into him as your core already burned at the touch, Jon biting at your lip until you gasped. His tongue slipping into your mouth before his hands gripped and teased you more roughly at how easily you explored him back.

Your own hands suddenly reaching up to shakily rip open the rest of his shirt before trying to move against his demanding kiss and intense touch to push it down his shoulders. Jon never breaking the kiss as he helped shove the material off for you. Your hands running freely along his shoulders and chest before wrapping up around his neck and running into his curls.

Jon cupped the back of your head the second you even tried pulling back for air, refusing you any reprieve as he squeezed every inch of skin his other hand ran along. Kissing deep and increasing in demand as your breaths turned to moans gifted right into his own mouth.

Touch leaving you, Jon ran his hands down until he reached your pants and just as he pulled from your lips, both of you matching in growing red, swollen from his roughness and panting in desperation, he suddenly knelt down. Yanking the material straight down and off your legs. All but throwing your boots to the side and leaving you bare for him in the freezing cold.

You didn’t even consider the scars and horrid marks so blatantly left on the inside of your thighs, as before you could say anything Jon didn’t come back to your lips. Stayed knelt on the ground before pulling your legs as far apart as he could. Gripping your hips to pull you to him, and in a second of confusion for you it was soon replaced with a gasp of his name.

This..you didn’t know about what this is. Had no idea what he was doing but Jon’s mouth leaned up to run along between your legs. His mouth was hot and his tongue licked along your folds up to your clit that had you arch against the stone and hands pressing harder into it as you shook. Jon kept his mouth against your cunt like a true wolf starved from the world as he gripped your hips tightly. Refusing to let you escape him, his tongue ran across your clit before sucking slightly at the tiny bundle, making you jump and cry out his name.

You couldn’t contemplate what Jon was even doing to you, as any slight hint of you trying to pull away from something boiling fast inside of you he yanked you back to him tighter. You knew you were just soaking him from how easily you grew wetter and wetter and it mixed with his tongue running flat along your folds before you cried more.

His hands having pulled you wider open for him, and his tongue reaching to lick inside of you as you stuttered out gasps with no way to speak. Only letting you go long enough to snatch a hand of yours he guided it to run through his hair, and the second you let your nails scratch along his scalp Jon shook against you. The vibrations of his growl against your cunt soaked him more as it spiked a screeching and burning pleasure inside of you. His facial hair burned against your skin, making you desperate enough to want to beg for mercy.

Just as he refused for your lips, he never allowed himself a second to tear way from licking into you as if he could sense every single angle and manner which brought the most moans from you. Truly a wolf that had been starved for weeks and finding something worth dying for between your legs.

Your orgasm passed through you without any warning, you tensed in his hold and hand grasping his curls tighter as he shoved you hard against the wall and ran his tongue across your folds, inside as it pressed along something gaspingly sensitive and back up to your clit. Your core snapped and you begged with nothing but pleas of his name that made him groan and growl into you more.

But he didn’t give you a second’s reprieve. He seemed to lick every sound of wetness between your legs and now the pressure build to the point you almost started to panic. Jon’s grip too strong as he licked so much inside you that he found every way to tune you like an instrument until tears slipped from the corners of your eyes.

Both hands dug into his hair as he pushed you into the wall more and almost forced you to hover just barley on your toes with hands braced against your inner thighs. Letting him press his mouth against you entirely as he dragged you right from one orgasm into another as he refused to let go until he tasted every bit of what you soaked him with.

As your legs shook in his hold, Jon finally pulled away. Rising up with one hand gripping your jaw to tilt you up to his mouth, the other made quick work at tossing off his own pants. Your hands gripping his shoulders as he purposely kissed you with a sloppiness that forced you to taste what heavy wetness you left on his tongue as he ran over yours.

Barley leaving your lips as he moved enough to kick what was left of his own clothes somewhere behind him before tilting your head more up to his mercy, words brushing against your lips that pulled a whine from you, “I love the way you taste.” Before kissing you again and pressing his body tight against you into the wall.

His cock was as hard as the stone scratching at your back. Jon’s hands unable to choose where to stay on as he let himself grind into you, his cock slipping between your legs to move along your entrance.

You writhed into him back as Jon once more returned to his determined goal of keeping your lips pressed against his. As your hands reached behind his neck, Jon suddenly shifted, hoisting you up by your thighs as you kept them partially wrapped around his waist as he held you in his arms against the wall.

This was not the hesitant almost of years ago. As soon as you felt the tip of Jon’s cock press against your clit, he slid along you and with the wetness you soaked his mouth with and how much his own saliva soaked you, there was no resistance.

You cried so loudly into his kiss at the burn. One single push inside you and you could truly feel how long he was and how almost too thick his cock was to handle, how stretched you open for him. You shook in his arms but Jon never wavered in holding you. Letting himself slide as deep as he could inside of you without pause.

He wasn’t fast and impatient, instead keeping you so close to him as he pulled his cock slowly out of you to the tip before slowly once more sliding right back as deep as possible. Your head slammed against the wall behind you as you whined and Jon’s face fell into your neck as you felt him bearing his teeth in deep pants of his own.

His cock was slow as he slid it in and out of you, but just enough to have you feel delirious should he let you go now. Even in this cold, sweat begun to run lightly across both your bodies as he pulled his face up to look into yours.

His eyes black and lips swollen and parted before a particularly deep thrust had his eyes shut and teeth grit together in a hiss. You couldn’t see, feel, or think of anything but Jon like he consumed every inch of your soul as he fucked you.

Just as before, it started out of nowhere but this time your walls soaked his cock, clenching so tight around him Jon’s groans turned to deep growls as he had to fuck up into you harder to slide his cock as deep as he could everytime. Your foreheads pressed together as tears fell freely from your eyes and you could barley breathe but he kissed you everytime you were sure you could handle his fucking and stole you right back to being so out of breathe you held him tighter as the dizziness set in.

Sliding so smoothly in and out of you with such slow and deep strokes against a sensitive wall inside you, Jon’s breathing begun to stutter himself before kissing you again and licking inside your mouth just as his tongue did inside of you and in the same slow overtaking lack of mercy which your orgasm snapped, burning as it spiralled in from his touch.

You grasped onto him so tightly as you tried to cry into his mouth but he stole every breathe and word as he kissed and fucked you slowly through it. His cock pushing up into you with slightly harder thrusts until he pressed against you so tightly you felt only his lips, cock and his chest and none of the world existed beyond that.

Jon shook in your touch, his cock throbbing deep inside you before holding your lips to his with a hand at the back of your head. His cum was warm, unusually warm. One arm still holding you up, as he had you pressed tightly against the wall, Jon forced the leg he held onto, to widen as much as he could make you, as his cock spilled inside you. His cum was also thick, you could feel it was so thick that it matched the almost painful way his cock so largely filled you. But it was a lot, enough of him filled you that it tried to slip down your legs but he stretched so tightly it could only stay deep inside you.

As he slowly fucked the rest of his seed into you, you could feel he was still hard. In an instant your world spun, as he turned you around and pressed you hard into the cold ground. Your legs still spread wide as he pushed them far as they could go, and he looked over you with a need in his eyes as you had in yours. The greyness almost glistening as his chest heaved, your eyes looking over the stab wounds as his found the deep scar on you.

You had seen most of him before, but not like this. His cock was long, and like his seed, he was thick enough it intimidated you even now and making you shudder, clenching around nothing, the sight of it soaked from you and tinted white from his own cum still inside you. Jon gripped his thick base and pushed himself back as deep as he could inside of you. The mix of his cum and yours making the sound almost shameful at how wet it was.

Your muscles all tensed at the large push inside you, his cock running firmly along your sensitive walls as you cried out. Jon’s eyes flew down to where you were joined, watching him slide deep inside of you before his hand rose, pressing against the scar and pushing down firmly that made you jump with a spark of wild desire before slipping to hold your hip.

His other hand tightly gripping your hair before moving to lean down and kiss you once more as this time, he fucked you a little faster, but with much harder thrusts. The force used made his skin slap loudly against yours and you gripped his hair tightly while against his lips.

He pulled away, almost lovingly raking through the back of your hair as his own dark curls brushed against your skin, your jaw and neck was red from how much his facial hair scratched raw against your skin just as it burned still between your legs.

Jon hovered over your lips, his cock never stopped his pace as he fucked into you rough and just less then fast enough that it made you clench so tightly around him he needed to pound harder just to stay so deep inside. His voice rough, and his northern accent so thick it slurred. “You’re so beautiful,”

You gasped as he was pulling you to another orgasm, this time it would be much more powerful as you felt his cock so deep and the sound of his skin against yours with a rough slap each time but soaking wet to the obscene. You pressed your forehead against his as you lost everything that wasn’t his touch, his voice, anything that wasn’t Jon fell away.

Voice wavering as tears fell freely from the mix of pleasure so overwhelming that his cock almost made your cunt burn in pain but you craved every second. “I missed you, gods, Jon I’m sorry I-”

His lips shushing you between more gentle kisses that did not match his cock’s pounding, how tightly his one hand gripped your hip to force you to take his rough pace. “Shh, shh, I’ve got you, darling, I know. I missed you so much,”

Jon could feel the pressure around his cock growing and he knew you were losing it, shifting you to hold your head into his neck as he buried his face into your hair as he fucked you a little faster with every passing second. Low murmurs into your ear of how he missed you, how he was the sorry one, how beautiful you felt and just as you clenched tightly around him you arched up with a true sob.

Something inside you burst around his cock and you knew you were truly soaking him but it felt as if you were underwater and nothing around in the water did anything but drown you in a pleasure that burned in agony through it’s orgasm.

Your nails with a mind of their own in desperation, clawed down his back as he groaned into you. His cock thrusting shallow but deep as he left the rough pace and shamelessly sped towards filling you once more. A trail of two sets of nails raked across his back bright and red but you were covered in bruises that fit his hand and mouth perfectly as he pushed back your soaking orgasm to his.

Jon came much more that time, spilling inside you deep and the slick wetness around his cock and filling you with his warm, thick seed as his hips never stopped until there was nothing left. For a moment, you both held the other, panting with something close to tears even in his own eyes but you were too far gone to comprehend.

Pulling out of you, you whined against Jon but he kissed you gently. Turning you slowly to press your back against his chest as you tumbled into him. His arms tight around you as you muttered distressingly, “I can’t, I’ll wake up and you won’t..” But while your eyes shut and voice mumbled, Jon nuzzled the back of your head.

“Sleep, darling. I’ll be here, I promise.”

Something in Jon’s mind almost worried this wasn’t real as much as you did while falling asleep finally, but he also knew something more. He knew he had watched you through Ghosts eyes, lived as the very direwolf that sat in the corner almost keeping guard of you two. If he knew that was real, then Jon could finally let himself actually sleep for once assuring this was real too.

He could feel the heart beneath his wounded chest slow against your back and he felt the deep scar across your stomach as he too finally fell asleep. Something inside him was feeling like yours, something that looked to the other and felt consumed by their presence.

Something about finding you again, that had Jon feel like a true wolf. Risking going rabid and crazed if he let you slip from him this time. When his eyes slid open to the room, with Ghost at his side as he finally felt his mind properly settle, suddenly all he could think of was finding you. Desperately sending his companion out to bring you here as he felt like a mad man at finding himself truly back in his own once murdered body.

But then you walked in, and that wolf snapped. If direwolves mated for life, Jon couldn’t really know, but he did know as he fell asleep finally, that this wolf certainly did. Ramsay Bolton’s manic letter had accused Jon of stealing you, “Give me my bride back.” It had said.

You weren't his bride, you weren’t Ramsay’s and you never would be. As soon as Jon woke back up in his true body, something inside him couldn’t stop the nagging question. Why did it feel like you were the one who brought him back? Why was he consumed in his new life with you, but he also wondered if you somehow were feeling the same.

Eventually, you both would have to face everyone. Walk up those steps and they would see the impossible before them. The time could come where those remaining would see the remains of a murder walking on two feet, those who watched the crime and those who mourned but none expected Jon the way he was now.

But right now, you both struggled to bring yourselves to walk into that realization. Partially dressed, Jon’s back was leaned against the wall as he kept you perched in his lap. Neither with a shirt on as both of you ran your hands over the scars of the other. Both trying to find an explanation in the other but Jon was persistent. “No one survives something like this.” You tried to argue but your name slipped firmly from Jon’s mouth as his eyes narrowed up at you on his lap. “I saw it, I saw you. You were dead.”

It made sense in your heart but not your mind. “That isn’t...it’s not possible-”

His touch was soft as his hands shifted to your waist, yours gently resting on his shoulders while he leaned his head back onto the stone to look up. “It’s not possible to survive these either.” Nodding down to his chest, your eyes narrowed with your face twisting harshly as you ran your palm flat against them. They felt like yours. Not quite healed, but not scarred either. Like they just existed without being part of your living body. The wounds like they were dead but everything around it alive underneath.

Jon watched you for a moment, his voice low as he spoke again. “Maybe these dreams, these visions I’ve been having. Maybe they were trying to tell me to find you, protect you before..” You both swallowed. You couldn’t talk about that now, neither knew when you should. You watched his eyes soften as you ran a hand gently over his jaw, the coarse facial hair scratching your skin before they moved to gently run along the length of his curls. “Whatever brought me back, we might need to consider it that it brought you back too.”

You bit your tongue as the nerves rose but instantly Jon leaned up, pulling you to press his lips to yours gently, trying to soothe those nerves instead of letting them fester. He still knew you far too well. You swallowed harshly as your mind ran too fast in too many directions, “So, the gods what? Keep me alive just so I could come here? See you dead just long enough to think I’ve lost everyone?”

He hummed, unable to stop his hands from running along your skin as long as he was this close. In truth neither of you understood enough to say what this was. All was known that Jon felt a bit different in this new life. Like something more dark and possessive lived inside of him and he was consumed with you until he had you in his arms. He felt as if he was going to lose his mind in the time between sending Ghost to find you and seeing you step into that cell.

Even now, he took you twice in the early seconds he woke up. Your breasts currently littered in marks from his teeth and bruises from his mouth, he had yanked you up onto his lap as he desperately bounced you rough on his cock, him sitting up and burying his face into your chest smothering the growls in him. Barley awake compared to him, you were at his mercy, his cock fucking up into you as hard as Jon’s grip on your hips moving you himself to fuck you down onto him, letting him take you in whatever demand he wanted. Pushing past both your first orgasms without ever stopping to let you come down.

He was a man possessed, something terribly animalistic in his heart as he felt a screaming, dark desire to spill deep inside you, to fill you up again as soon as he did the first time. You, yourself had felt as if you were burning up on the inside until he was inside you again. Like something was deeply tethering you to him.

The feelings were calm, much calmer now but there remained something between you that was difficult to explain. Like in your new life, you only found purpose after seeing the other again but for Jon it just took far less time and torture to get there. You knew he was angry, wanting to demand everything that happened to you, but it wasn’t the time for it.

His own clothes back on, Jon was before you helping put your own shirt back on neatly as he tilted your chin up to look at him. Gods help him Jon was about two seconds away from just pushing you back onto the ground and taking you all over again, but the dark look in your eyes was focused on something else as you pulled away, reaching down to hand him Longclaw.

Both of you held onto it for a second as he watched you closely, “Out of all the ways for things to end between me and him, it’s hard to believe it was you of all people who did it.” Your eyes wide as they looked at Jon asking how he knew but Ghost had walked over to nudge at Jon. Smiling at him while strapping it back around his person, “I could see things through Ghost...or was controlling him. It’s hard to explain but it was like as soon as I died I could see and move through him.”

A whine coming from Ghost had him kneel down, running a hand along his fur as the two looked at one another. You were to afraid to bring it up yet, like saying his name would destroy whatever had been created in this little, dark room together but you think you understood it. You had watched a strange almost abnormal ability to control a direwolf before.

“Wish I could say I’m glad he’s gone but at least that part of my humanity came back with me.” He knew about Ser Alliser Thorne, he knew it wasn’t vengeance but justice you were seeking for him. “If yesterday didn’t scare the others into making up themselves for what they’ve done-”

“Then seeing you now sure will.” Looking up to you with a more serious look, Jon stood back up and pulled you into his arms for a moment. Only for a moment, as quite quickly, you both were nudged in the legs by Ghost, causing you both to turn to him with a laugh. “At least one thing does make sense to me. If you were somehow living inside Ghost, it would explain why he was so..intense and aggressive yesterday but far more of a large pup now that I remember”

Jon held you one hand gently at your jaw, the other your waist as he looked back to you, waiting for you to meet his eyes before you both felt the air turn much more heavy and tense. “You told them today is a fresh start.” You nodded slowly, a hope that it didn’t make him mad but his expression never changed. “Why?”

Your hands struggled to land on him, much like that night in Winterfell like despite the closeness seconds before you were now afraid to touch him. “Everything they said, about the North, about the Others. I spent over four years with a war and it’s aftermath having dreams and visions of what was happening but I didn’t understand any of it. But...now I do, and I think even the men who betrayed you need a chance to realize that was well.”

Jon watched you closely, his voice low but assuring. “Then we give them that chance.” Almost leaving for a second, Jon hesitated before pulling you back with a gentle call of your name, “Theon...”

You shook your head firmly, a stern look with no room for question. “He’s paid for what he did. He’s paid the cost and then far more then what he deserved. And he’s the only reason I made it out of Winterfell alive. He’s with me and right now I would leave it at that.”

The relief in you as Jon never doubted your word, giving a nod. “I won’t pressure you, but eventually I am going to need you to tell me what happened. What he did to you.” He, you both knew, meant Ramsay. “Not right now, but we can’t avoid him forever and I need to hear what he did from your mouth, because if I have to hear it from his, I may not end up letting him even finish a sentence.” His hands tightened on you, before you finally reached up to run along where his scars behind the black shirt sat under.

He would. You knew it. Ramsay loved to use information as torment in and of itself, and that letter...either Jon finds Ramsay first or he brings himself and the rest of the Boltons men here. But he’ll mock him with every torture his words can summon, it was just his cruel nature at work.

Was it fair to assume the worst? Some considered it so. You had followed Ghost to the Ice Cells in the dead of night and quite some time had passed and none had seen you. They all knew what was down there by now, and all of them feared what the worst might mean.

Ser Davos Seaworth had shared a moment with the large wildling, Tormund. Discussing that they may need to begin forming plans for the worst, knowing now that there were bigger threats on the horizon and the remaining wildings and Night’s Watch could not just stand by and wait for whatever threat to attack from one side of the other.

Jon Snow’s last stand had been the choice to fight for not just the North he now guarded, but the North that was his home, the North that the woman he loved was trapped within. He had made it known he considered those beyond the wall to belong to the realms of men, and now he had remembered truly that his duty was to those south of it as well.

He had died for that conviction, and if that damned letter was right, without King Stannis Baratheon now they had to face the idea that you too might not come back alive from the cells if it had been this long. Tormund had said it was by nightfall most men turned to the blue eyes of the dead, and that the only things he’d ever seen kill them were fire, and that sword of Jon’s.

Some said you brought it with you, others weren’t sure. If not, and if you couldn’t grab a torch in time, they were going to have to find a way to continue this on their own and they didn’t like their chances.

Only, they didn’t have too.

The large pure white direwolf emerged first. Thick metal doors opening as he walked out onto the yard first, and caught many eyes. But, what followed Ghost was enough that every person in Castle Black stopped and watched. You were still you, but you also walked beside a figure that they had seen dead the day before.

He looked exactly as he did before, scars still on his face red from their freshness, Longclaw strapped to his side as it truly belonged, and even more striking, eyes just as grey as they were before that night. No blue, no sigh of death, no fear from you except the dark looks on both your expressions as the men all gathered close.

Whispers begun right away. The North’s previously thought dead Queen, had disappeared in the dark of night and reemerged hours later with the once dead Jon Snow alive by her side. Davos had seen the body himself, but there was no sigh of the dead to fear in the man. Just the man himself, and you.

You were in rough shape the morning the Greyjoy had brought you here, but you were darker, angrier, and missing part of the life he knew in you as a girl that he wondered would ever come back. You refused to speak on what happened at The Twins, refused to speak on the whispers of you being dead and only said “As you can see, I certainly am alive right now.”

But he saw Jon Snow dead, and the ones who hadn’t, either murdered him, watched him be murdered or had the trusting word of his closest companions and the woman he died for. But here he was, speaking to his men as much of a leader as he saw before.

Davos tried not to look to where he knew the red woman to be. He had no idea what you could have done to bring this man back, but knew he did not want her of all people having any place in what was to come. In any of it. But as Jon stood on even ground as his own men, you stood beside him as your eyes blazed in a mistrusting rage towards the same woman Davos was ignoring.

Edd and Tormund both walked closer to the pair, sharing looks of bewilderment at the other. Both had seen things they never in a lifetime thought would be true, but this was something else. This was a dead man standing before them but not in the same horror’s Tormund and Jon himself had witnessed at Hardhome.

He had found a lot to admire over the past few years of the crow, and over the past few months in particular stood out. Never would’ve thought possible, but somehow he both admired the man more after watching him lead the crows to defeat the free folk. Somehow found himself being the man doing the growing and changing afterwards.

He had heard him talk about you once they finally found common ground that day in his office. To Tormund, it seemed a bit stupid. You were in love with the girl first, you snuck around for six years with her and then you let your fathers make her marry your brother and you go off and vow yourself to the crows instead of fighting for her. He could not understand either of you, but now looking at the two of you he knew no other explanation then somehow you found a way to bring him back from the dead.

That is some power between you two only gods are supposed to have, if you asked him.

As he spoke, the same deep rasping voice came out, but a tinge rougher with more of an anger behind the words. A darker tint floated around Jon Snow, and it would never quite go away, but no question, those who knew you before could also could see it in yourself as well.

“Most of you should know, two night’s ago twelve of our own took it upon themselves to betray a brother. Lured me out alone, cornered me, and stabbed me in the chest and heart. Then threw me into an ice cell thinking they could get away with it if they hide the evidence.”

A glance up from where you stood beside him, you could see Olly pale and full of a shocked kind of fear in his eyes. A look that was shared by a number of others who had seen it themselves first hand. The boy had your word, but the same would not be found for others.

“Nine of you came forward yourselves, admitted your part. Except three.” Drawing attention to you, the way the eyes watched you both was far easier then yesterday doing it on your own. “Ser Alliser Thorne planned and carried out my own murder, and then paid the price for his crimes, but two of you didn’t. Two men who once stood by my side as Lord Commander.”

The yard quiet as this time, you had already named them front of everyone the day before but still, they found no courage to step forward until this time, the one who named them was the brother they killed.

“Othell Yarwyck, Bowen Marsh.”

There was quiet until a path begun to turn, men shifting in place to draw all attention on the two older men so white they just may have passed out if not for the bitter cold keeping them alert. There was no need for yesterday’s demands, and this time, it was Jon who saw men that once voted against him force the two to come to his feet. Shoved onto the ground as they looked up at him.

You promised a fresh start, but for those who confessed before you did it for them. You executed the man who did this to him, but Jon knew better then anyone both of them had shoved their knifes into his chest and watched him bleed out. And never had the courage to speak up when confronted.

Jon would stand by your decision for the others, but you would stand by his decision for the two of them. “This fight is bigger then us, bigger then our disagreements, bigger then our vows. I’m not leading these men to fight for nothing but the wall.” His face twisted slightly, tone almost irritated that some of them hadn’t understood the grander image yet. “I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that there’s no room in our vows that means protecting the North, the whole North, or the people we love in it.”

The men found nothing in glancing at you. It wasn’t you they betrayed, and it wasn’t them they were to answer too. Their eyes tearing up to Jon’s in hesitancy, neither finding the bravery to speak. Voices that did speak up were men scattered in the crowd, perking up from different points and picking up in fervour. Words of “murderers”, “dirty traitors” all the way up to “hang them” as still the men found no courage to truly face the man they ended.

It was Edd who stepped forward enough to capture attention, something barley held back in his expression of awe and relief. “What is to be done with them, Lord Commander?” A point in his voice, make sure any possible descender know, he is still in charge, he is still the leader they chose.

Stepping closer to them, Jon’s eyes narrowed sharply as he found more anger in his disgust at their cowardice. His head nodded back to your distant stillness, “She was kind enough to show you mercy.” His grey eyes bordering on a black as his tone lowered to something rough that made them shiver. “But I’m not. You have until sundown to make peace with yourselves.”

Multiple men stepped forward, dragging the remaining two men to be tossed away. For a moment, there was a tense quiet as they all looked to their somehow undead leader, and bless Edd for stepping forward first to break such still heavy air.

The two friends hugged, and the gates opened to the rest of them approaching their brother, and the scattered wildlings joining too.

You could recall the day you left Winterfell. Hearing behind where you stood Jon and Robb saying their goodbyes and how wrong it felt to accidentally intrude on it, the same felt deep in you now. Stepping back slowly as men all approached Jon before something in the pit of your stomach needed to walk away entirely. These were his people, not yours. You still didn’t belong here.

You weren’t quite sure where you were even headed at all until reaching far into part of a dining hall, dim and empty as the mass of men were outside. You could feel your heart pounding but nothing to explain why or even the senses to tell yourself to breathe. It was as if the world was dizzy and your chest ready to burst open as your palms braced on a counter. Your eyes shut as you leaned over hearing the blood rushing in your ears.

It all felt too much all in one instance. The strings, the blood, the warm blue eyes turning to terrifying pale ones, all swirling into bodies and fire and her and him and all of them as the night before screamed in your head and deafening you until a gentle hand found it’s way to your upper arm.

Flipping around with a desperate gasp of air you found Theon flinched back slightly, for only a second did you try and tell him not to sneak up on you but you only felt the world fade and twist in colour before slinking to the ground. Your back pressed against the counter as Theon slowly knelt in front of you. “What can I do?” His voice quiet but a concerned plead as you felt like the world spun in your mind.

You shook your head almost choking on the words of not knowing, eyes stinging with water trapped behind them until an old trick came to Theon’s mind. Stepping away from you you heard thuds and shuffling but you could only hear a mixture of voices. Voices of Jon, of Robb, of Shireen, of your father and the mocking words of Melisendre that day in the Westlands.

Heart stopping yet racing all at once until Theon returned with a large mug shoving it into your hand and just moving you to drink. “Come on, all of it, let’s go.” Ale rich and bitter but you let it sink down as you slammed it on the ground before letting your head fall against the wood. The world still spinning as your eyes remained closed but it all eased up as Theon spoke. “You alright?”

Taking a deep breathe before nodding, you moved your feet to sit flat on the floor knees closer to your chest as your head dropped into your folding arms. You felt Theon shift to sit next to you, it was never often him all those years ago that would see spirals of panic this way but he’d seen them once or twice enough to recall what they looked like. And the memory of having you down something alcoholic to simmer it out or maybe just to distract you for a moment still worked luckily.

Voices spoke muffled in the distant outdoors before you finally felt your heart grant your feet back on the earth and mind lifting such haze. Your arms remained folded against your knees but you raised back up as he could see you wipe back whatever tears fell with the back of your hand, frustrated furrow of your brows that they even fell in the first place.

He leaned over quietly, as if hiding with a whisper in the empty room of your name, dropping any formalities or titles in the moment, knowing right now you just needed a friend. “What the hell happened?”

You looked forward at a spot on the floor, a shrug in your shoulders with a weak voice. “I don’t know, I have no idea what I had done. He was dead one moment and alive the next. I...” You didn’t know how to say it, you didn’t want to even think of that night not the blood not the fire or the strings or the chanting but something about last night felt true as you spoke. Voice meek like a confused child, “I don’t think he’s the only one.”

Theon’s brows furrowed, but you couldn’t look at him as you spoke. “Something’s been so wrong with me since that night, something inside me felt so twisted and missing like I never really survived. As if I’ve been walking around barley alive until last night, and now it’s all right here and it’s too much at once but...” Finally, you looked at him.

A far away concern in his eyes that you knew wasn’t judgment, but just not understanding. You didn’t expect him too, you think only person in the realm will understand it now. “I died that night, Theon. I know I did, I felt it...I died beside him. But it never felt like I woke up until..”

“Until he did?” His head gesturing outside vaugley as you nodded. “Could be why you came back. You couldn’t stay dead because you needed to be here to bring him back.”

You shook your head, letting it thud back behind you once more. “Given this a lot of thought, Greyjoy?”

The smile wasn’t really genuine, but the light tone in your voice that accompanied it gave a little perk to him, as if for a second it was just the two of you years ago. Teenagers in Winterfell that snuck into the kitchens to have a drink way passed when anyone was supposed to be awake. “One of us should.”

He nudged your arm, you nudged his back. The panic and tears were still staining your face and soul but in the quiet it was a tad easier to swallow down. “What is it the Drowned God speaks of? What is dead may never die?” You looked at him with an unconvincing half smile. “What does he say about those who bring a man back to life?”

Reaching beside him, he dragged a mug of ale back over to you with a second for him. Nudging you to take a sip. “Nothing. Think it might just be you two.” For a moment it was quiet before he asked “Do you think he’s lying about your father? Ramsay?”

Biting you lip harshly before you took another sip, “I couldn’t say. He’s a commander, an excellent one. But I’ve seen more then enough commanders take knives to their hearts to feel any kind of optimistic about it anymore.” The ale was bitter, but Theon was right, it helped bring you down a little bit even if it was the sake of distracting your mind. “If he isn’t, he died thinking I hated him. If he is, then he will hate me anyways.” His eyes narrowed in confusion as your heart felt heavy. “The wrong daughter came back.”

A fleeting wish in Theon that maybe those thoughts had found their way out of your mind, but in the quiet of the room you still voiced the same. His head dropped, face twisting downward. “You’re still his kid. No parent wants to outlive their kids.”

In the quiet of the room, your head tilted slightly to the side, almost resting on him if only just a few inches closer. “What about you? You’re here when you could be making your way back to Pyke instead of being with me still. Your father would want to know you made it out of Winterfell alive.”

His heart in that moment felt far away, much like your own. “My real father lost his head in King’s Landing.”

Little seemed to change, the outside was different, the people not as cruel and the circumstances to get here were something of chaos, but in here it was the same as back there. You and Theon still held this strange dynamic, a bond that was rooted in feeling out of place in the world amongst your own people and your own blood. Your voice was just as quiet. “Some days I wonder if mine did too.”

You had to guess where he may be, though logic ended up telling you to search your quarters. A strange place to look for him, if considering what his position really is here. Your fathers quarters just as cold and dim as the way you left it the night before. No sign of life beyond you and Theon as you walked in but your eyes remained sharp. You had a feeling he was in here, but you weren’t with such energy to hunt.

Coming around to the desk, you ran your hand over the leather of the grey overcoat hanging across it you barley paid attention to before. Grasping it gently in your hand as you pulled it up, you could see it on him. Not magnificent of a wardrobe, much of similar things but they all were very striking of your father’s appearance.

Looking up you caught Theon watching, both of you turning away in an instant. You swallowed as you nodded over to the table near the back. The things on there clearly that of a young girl, “Could you..”

You turned away as he walked over to take them out of your view. Eyes drifting to the window up to the clouds of the winter day as you tugged the leather over your person. Too large to do up, without swallowing you, you kept it open and at least felt the leather warm you the slightest bit more then the only soft material under it before.

The first of papers on one side containing raven scrolls large and small, papers with too many numbers and listing details to count. One in particular still catching your eye, words you read and reread far too often and yet even now you felt just as awful thinking of it’s contents as before. Fingers tracing over it’s edges before a shifting across the room and a startle from Theon had you stand up suddenly.

“Seven hells, what are you doing hiding in here?”

Stepping around, Theon looked startled but annoyed as he looked at the now exposed Olly hiding in a corner. His face pale and hands shaking that fear you saw in him yesterday at that very desk back with a much larger looming fear. “He was dead, I stabbed him I know he was dead.”

Your jaw set, tilting your head slightly to Theon to continue on you stepped towards the boy, a hand outstretched. Pushing him lightly forward from his back as you led him back to the main room. Away from where you couldn’t handle being around Shireen’s things. Sitting back at the desk, you leaned against it to face him.

“What did you do?”

Your face still and unblinking for a moment before you came to an honest answer. “Maybe I didn’t do anything. The gods may have just decided he wasn’t supposed to die and made it so.” Your brows narrowed as he looked distant in his gaze. “Olly-”

“He’s going to hang me too.” You sighed, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I put a knife in his heart, if he sees me, he’ll hang me.” Opening your eyes you shared a flicker of your eyes with Theon, almost as if asking each other if you thought it was a possibility. But you couldn’t, it seemed like a different person who would do such a thing.

Olly’s circumstances didn’t make what he did to Jon any more acceptable, but there were unavoidable truths in his age and what drove him here to take in account. Executing adults is part of being a just leader, but children was...

“Do you know where Riverrun is?” Both looked at you confused only getting an eyebrow raised back to him until Olly nodded yes. “Our army was garrisoned there near the end of the war. River Lords had attacked Lannister forces without our knowledge and they took two teenage boys hostages. Not much older then you.”

Theon didn’t know any of this either, leaning against the wall to watch as you yourself turned further away for a moment. “I spoke to them, gained their trust, gave them food and water. They were prisoners, but they were still boys who weren’t the ones responsible for the war. They were good kids, really. Then in the middle of the night, five of our own men dragged them from their cell and murdered them just for being kids of the enemy.”

You could see them, the way they were laid out in the hall that night and the tension so thick in that room that radiated fury. If you let yourself, you could still hear Robb yell that they were just boys.

“The King had four of them hanged, took the head of the one who planned it himself.” Crouching down to look at him closely you could still see how young he really was. “We executed five of our own men, and lost the support of one of our own bannermen’s houses as a result of that execution. And we did it because they were grown men who murdered two boys your age. We did it because they were under our protection and murdering them was treason.”

“Kill me and be cursed.”

Push the thought from your mind, push it all back. You couldn’t. Not now, maybe not ever. Exhaling deeply you leaned in more to make Olly meet your eyes. “Some might argue it’s justice the other way around. But I don’t see it that way. Sometimes...” Both men in the room watched you look over to Theon. “Sometimes what we think is justice leads to things which are far worse.”

He had many things to hate you for in your life after him, but you couldn’t imagine executing a thirteen year old boy would be something wherever he was, he would look at you any more favourably for. If indeed, there was anything left he’d be even remotely alright with. Not now, not after last night.

“But you are going to have to face him. You can’t avoid that, and you shouldn’t. The last thing you should do right now is hide from him. You came to me yesterday, told me the truth all of your own choice. Don’t make him have to come to you.”

So why were you up here hiding from Jon as well? After everything why was it you still felt that lingering dread that he wouldn’t want anything to do with you? Unable to tell if it was the worry of disappointing just one more person with who you’ve become, or the pit deep within you of guilt at how desperately attached you felt last night.

Leaning forward so his forearms rested against his knees he looked down before finding your eyes, a doubt of his own painted across. “Why are you helping me? After everything I did, you cut off Thorne’s head when he confessed.”

Circling around you placed yourself back behind your fathers desk, fingers tapping at the wood before settling. “I have a soft spot for giving those who have wronged the people I love, another chance at life, you could say.” Flickering slightly to the side, you didn’t properly look at Theon but you both could sense the other’s gaze. Two years ago you nor Robb wanted anything but bring him down from the North and take his head but now you wouldn’t want the man going anywhere else.

Pausing you leaned forward, hands clasped together. “I betrayed my own father.” Olly’s eyes rising to you in confusion, you nodded to the desk. “Stannis Baratheon was my father, I was his eldest daughter and he raised me to be his heir. Gave me a proper education, let me spend many years in Winterfell and Kings Landing to learn as he was, and then the Lannisters took Ned Stark’s head.”

This time you purposely didn’t look at Theon, you never spoke of it, but the day you all found out you had visited Theon in his tent. Things everywhere were thrown around and a few bottles were smashed on the ground. Nothing truly had been right since that day.

“Everyone expected me to go to his side. Join my father, the rightful King and fight for his claim, but instead I sided with Robb Stark. I sided with the man I married and when they declared him King in the North my own father declared me a traitor.” His eyes dropped a bit, Olly being from the North himself had long heard of the two of you. “I cannot deny what I did, I was a traitor to him. What I am saying is, we all do bad things. We all do things many consider horrible or monstrous, but it’s what pushes us to those circumstances that matters when facing judgment.”

A knock at the door had all three of you raising your heads up, Olly looking from the door to you with a barley concealed panic as Theon went to open it. First only Ser Davos walking in causing no alarm until it was the one who came behind him that made two hearts jump for very different reasons. Having changed into something without the traces of his own blood, and black fur around his shoulders that made him look large and imposing.

Instantly you gestured for Olly to come around the desk to stand behind you, doing so with a jump as you could see him try to remain steady. His grey eyes unblinking as he moved to stand beside Ser Davos on the shame filled yet terrified ones of the boy.

Jon wouldn’t go against your choice, he understood it likely better then you. He knew what Olly had come from, and he knew too well that putting his anger on the boy would be misplacing the ones who knew what they were really agreeing too. He could still recall having that final knife shoved into his heart, but he also could see the confused, angry pain in the tears in the boys as he did so.

As you sat there, it was an odd feeling for him. He once could recognize Stannis Baratheon without ever being introduced his name because of how much he could see you in the man. Now though, it was as if he could see Stannis in you as if he didn’t know you first. You had left in the noise earlier and now looked at him with something very held up, very guarded in your eyes that he didn’t like.

Something about his connection with Ghost had him once wondering if this strange phenomena was what being a warg was, and then his spent over a day in his direwolf’s body and consciousness when he finally found you again. Too much of the day now he had been torn between the nature of his new life, and how something deep within him knew it was through you that he could stand here now. The other was burning and obsessive being able to touch you in ways he for too long thought was a dead gone dream.

But then you sat there, looking at him like you weren’t sure if you wanted to be here trying to put that wall up he knew came from Stannis himself. Only his wasn’t a wall, just his nature and with you it was hiding you away from everyone else. Jon wondered, did you realize how well he still knew you, did you even know yourself anymore. His voice was rough and low as he spoke, “It’s time.”

He didn’t need to ask he knew you would join no matter what you were trying to ignore. You glanced to Theon, indicating something with a more narrowed glance before the man left with the quickly joining him out the door with Olly as Ser Davos followed in a thoughtful silence, the sounds of distant shouting and footsteps heard in the distance. Looking at each other for a moment, Jon turned and closed it completely shutting the world out. Gloved hand still on the wood as he faced away from you, his eyes shut as he inhale deeply.

“They all think you had something to do with bringing me back. And I don’t think they’re wrong.”

Turning back to you, your eyes were set to the floor with something that he could feel the sting sitting just behind them. Only a mutter left in it, “I can feel it. As if it’s screaming at me like I’ve found any kind of a purpose, for the first time since...” Your words died right in your mouth and it only left you more uncomfortable as you sat there.

Everytime Jon had to share you with the world, it made things between you that much more difficult to overcome. Only now, the weight of so much in this world bared down on both of you and only brought you together after forcing you to lose everything. Jon hoped Robb could somehow see how much he meant to you, hoped that he didn’t hate him for always holding part of your heart.

But he had it for so long, so far away from you, that it was possible to Jon that you forgot what letting it share between you both felt like. “I know it would have been different for you, I don’t know how long you were..”

The shatter in your tone made him want to go to you, but the stillness and harshness in your distant unfocused eyes had him stay. You’d just flinch back from him at that moment if he tried. “It was the same night...” You sighed, running a hand over your forehead before resting them both on the desk, hands clasped against your lips. “It could have been minutes, or hours, but it was long enough to throw me in a cage and for them to...”

Whatever was on your lips next left with something that swam over your eyes like it was about to make you sick, and Jon felt a similar sinking feeling that it was about Robb. That the details you were forcing back down your throat would only serve to hurt him as well.

He could see you bite your tongue even from where was before you. Your name falling so gently from his lips before you stood abruptly. Making your way towards the door and breaking the quiet tension between you both as the cold air rushed in. “We shouldn’t keep your men waiting.”

That damned letter was on the desk in the seconds he was left alone in the room. The letter that started all of this, and the one that woke him from a slumber of refusing to involve himself with the realm. He didn’t read it as he gently picked it up, but he certainly took it with him. As he descended upon the awaiting crowd. You now standing grim and tall much like your father by the platform, standing by his choice no matter what you would’ve done or not done the day before.

Only hours ago Jon had you in ways he never thought would be blessed to him, and yet now you looked at him like you would shatter if he ever got that close again. He couldn’t let you walk away, like being too far from you even sent his head spiralling and an aggression in his chest rose. A barley contained growl within as if he was an animal watching his mate in pain.

Jon felt consumed with something darker in this new life and yet surrounding all of it was a burning possessiveness to keep you close. Jon just didn’t know how to quell that great strengthening desire in him, nor did he know how to keep you by his side without chasing you off. Just his gaze on you was enough to startle you out of the room like a frightened deer. But he could feel it in his heart, he sensed it that night.

The pull to find his body once more as if he could feel his mind being pushed back to where it belonged and all he could think or feel as it happened was you. And then his eyes opened once more in his own body with Ghost at his side and he knew it was you his heart was once more beating for. Beating because of.

But Jon also had no idea what you had truly been through, the extent of the night Robb died and what led you into the captors of the Boltons escaping with barley your sanity. Perhaps you just needed time, but Jon needed you. The darkness was coming to devour them all, a night that never ends and Jon had seen first hand the death which would follow if no one did anything about it.

It was on his shoulders now, but Jon couldn’t do it without you. He didn’t want to either.

Draped in blacks and furs, scar over the skin right beside his eye still red and imposing as the snowflakes fell across the wildness of his curls. Jon stood tall as he faced the two men who had yet to find any redemption or remorse. They had watched what you did to the man responsible, and now Jon would finish what you started.

His eyes dark as he looked up, their hands tied together and noose around their necks with looks of contempt from all three men standing there. Jon’s a seething and quiet outrage as Yarwyck spit, “You shouldn’t be alive, it isn’t right.”

You stood only a few feet beside Jon, his voice rasping deep as he didn’t turn away from them. “Neither was killing me.” Eyes flashing to down in that cell, the first time you pulled the edges of his shirt to the side to trace over the wounds deep in him and how they later felt flat against your palms as he knelt over you.

Bowen Marsh was pleading with more regret but no apology. “Would you let my mother know, she still lives in White Harbour. Tell her I died fighting the wildlings.” It wasn’t her Jon had issue with, and it was his duty to listen to the mens final words and requests. He gave a nod in agreement to his request, and their fate was sealed.

He let them go loose, and it took minutes for the sounds to stop. Jon had told them he wouldn’t give them a death as merciful as you had to Ser Alliser, and yet he felt little guilt. Looking to you, it was hard to tell if there was regret or shame in your own eyes.

A power of the gods had told them that Jon Snow should not be dead, and it was through you they chose to do so. You could argue against the idea, but you both felt that deep pull. Loving one another was just part of who you were for so long, but this wasn’t just that. This was something darker, something more desperate and protective that Jon knew would be impossible to keep away from this time around.

You could feel her eyes on you, watching with a shocked curiosity that you knew would lead to answers you already dreaded. You knew what you had done, what you had felt and what was said about such powers in her god. Her intentions for one man, but it flowed through you to bring back another.

Men all around this camp wanted to speak to you, had things to address and questions which needed answering but none of them were what you could handle. Not today, maybe not tomorrow or ever by this state of your mind. Not until one final thing was done.

When none had seen you part, none followed, she finally did.

A small fire finding itself lit as the remains of the hanged burned before the brother, the leader they betrayed and the men who now remained which stood with him. A few stragglers remained about, and it was them who helped you up.

The steps towards the lift were sturdy but you felt even there the cold wind of night increasing over your face. The long leather across your back and arms at least sheltered the warm better then everything else on you. Closing the gate behind you, you leaned against the back with your hands braced against the wood as you looked to the rising view of Castle Black.

The darkness of the North you knew in front rose up and the fires lighting below dimmed. Enough of the days clouds had scattered as the moon shined bright, but the crackling and gears turning around you were loud. The floor not shaking, but uneasy under your feet as you raised higher then most had ever been before leaning your head back eyes slipping shut to await the stop.

You knew in the morning, Ser Davos would seek you out and speak the words you wished you could throw into the mud. Where your place was now you did not know, but you did know it wasn’t that and it never would be. Your father did not come all the way to the Wall thinking it would help the Iron Throne and if he truly died in attempts to reclaim land from the Boltons that was not for anything but the North either.

A North that he turned away to your face and not. A North all his side called you a traitor for siding with, you had no place in his plans then and you could not see taking up them in his memory as right or fair. A new purpose needed to be carved before the swirling agony of panic inside you had you leap from these heights. This was far taller then the stone walls of Winterfell. This jump would certainly kill you.

The tops of the wall were higher then most, only opening up in carved spots to look out too as braziers laid about that had the stragglers within. Some men only watched you with a silent fear as you passed, others with a nervous mutter of a title you had not heard in a long time. Coming around the corner was an empty opening, but high enough the sky lit the trees below.

The wind was utterly freezing as it blew the edges of your coat and the strands of your hair around behind you. Your eyes widened a bit and the cold stung them, but the sight was as magnificent as it was invoking of terrifying. You had been out there, just barley and yet with no idea this was truly what lay beyond.

Only, the cold grew within your bones and for just a moment the dark of the night enveloped you with blues and cries of an infant in dreams long passed. Images of this sight but in the daytime flashed through your eyes and pretty red hair flashed through your mind and instantly you closed your eyes to push them out.

For too long you had been nothing but a problem in his life, something keeping him down and even now your very name in Ramsay’s hand caused his death. Even in his new life you had no idea if you belonged in it or if he wanted you in it. In the throes of the night it wasn’t even a thought that was all just a passing passion but now in the quiet and the freezing high dark you could hear him.

Hear how much he wanted to break you case any others wanted to play with his new toy. The vile spitting in your ear of mocking that ruined the memories of the only man who before then had taken you like that. Ramsay ruined all of it and you felt like a stupid child for thinking the kind of man Jon had become would care at all to take on your pain as his burden anymore.

If your true purpose in such a new life was just to be there to bring him back then you fulfilled that and should leave the realms to those who still deserved to fight for it. You felt her before you saw her, something that creeped up your spine and wrapped their tendrils around your neck speaking whispers of fire into them.

Not dressed much better then you, Melisendre stood beside you looking out to the far North with something less knowing on her face. A quieter shock that permeated her person and a tone quieter then such certainly held the night before. “The Lord of Light works through you, your grace. A power that should not belong to any. I merely speak to the Lord and he answers with his own power if he sees fit, and I do with offerings and practices he desires and yet it was you who he chose the one to bring back.”

Your eyes glared to her before returning back to the windy darkness. “What do you know about it?”

“Many have seen the wounds on your person, and none of them think you should have survived it. But I know you didn’t, your sights in the flames was death but here you stand.” Neither noticed the figure leaned against the cold walls of ice some feet away with keen ears. “The Lord brought you back himself, so you could be the one to bring another back.”

Your tone was low and filled with much ire, “And yet I didn’t have to burn any alive to accomplish it. What does that say about this god of yours.” Melisendre watched you curiously, the sight of Jon Snow as alive as he was dead hours before was a shock. He was not the name in the visions and flames she sought to revive. No images of her King showed death but it was death spoken of him, offering the princess as a final sacrifice was needed.

Appearing, you had taken away that chance and the Lord would not consider burning her body the offering, but you had done it at your own hand and that was the blood he decided would bring this man back. He accepted your offer, not any else and she could not help but consider that only someone of once death could bring back another in such a way.

“I think it means the Lord intends to keep you alive, that the flames showed me the truth. The King will return to us, because you have returned to him, the wolf at your side.”

For all her calm, she didn’t expect the move and you didn’t quite either. In a second, you had the woman pinned roughly to the wall with a small but sharp blade pressed to her stomach. Just barley scraping the fabric as you leaned into her with fury in your eyes. “Don’t speak to me about what your Lord intends. You looked me in the eyes, told me of a future with my husband that was ripped away from us by his own men.”

There was a hitch in her breathe, it seemed drastic pain sent more then just the King’s Baratheon into such a violent push. “I spoke the truth, it was not any fault of mine that he did not show me which wolf you would be at the side of. We do not choose our destiny.”

You pushed a little harder, blood rushing in your veins as your muscles screamed at you to act but you just stared at her with unmoving stillness. “Do not speak to me about my destiny, you have no right now or ever again to tell me what future you think I should follow. He was my husband, the only thing he fought for was his family and his people. You have no right to have any part in his memory. Or anyone else I love.”

Not easily persuaded by her words or allure, and Melisendre knew that too well as you dragged it a little down her stomach. “Do you feel where that blade is? Where it would go into you if I pushed a little further? That’s where Roose Bolton stabbed me, three times in this very spot. I bled out in minutes, having to watch him shove the same blade into Robb’s heart as we died beside each other.”

The figure just beyond felt that pain in his own heart, more ways then one but truly an unsettled feeling at how similar their ends were in wounds and betrayal. And how you were at the centre of both.

“I lost everything that night, and I have no idea where it is I belong in this life anymore. Maybe my destiny was to just be here and bring Jon back, but it cost me my life and my sister. Don’t you dare tell me that everything the North lost was just because you think I was with the wrong person at the wrong time. Don’t you dare tell me that.” You didn’t hide the tears, not as they ran down your cheeks and not in the anger they soaked your voice in.

The shaking in your hand from the burning in your nerves was too angry. You knew one more word from her and you would push this too far. Pulling back with a shaky inhale you ran a hand over your mouth before stepping away.

“You leave tonight.” Quiet and barley audible over the wind but she heard you and so did he. “You dragged my sister up onto a pyre and almost burned her alive for your god. If the only thing that brought Jon back was what I did then that is my weight to bare but you put her there. You put the King’s only living heir, the daughter he loved more then anything as a sacrifice to bring him back.”

Stepping in a way that you weren’t quite in sight before you turned back to her.

“You served my father well, but you will not serve me nor any in the North. You leave tonight, and if I ever see you in these lands again I will show you exactly how getting that scar felt. Only I don’t presume your god will see to keep you alive for it.”

Finding his grey eyes as you stepped out, you could see pain in his. You lost Robb but so did he, and he didn’t deserve to have you around to make that pain worse. You did enough damage to Jon Snow as it was. You said nothing as you walked away but he saw the desperate tears in your eyes as you saw them threatening to fall behind the anger in his.

Standing at the top of the landing, palms both leaned forward and braced on the wooden railing as she looked back to you for one last time. You knew all Melisendre found was contempt. She had tried to speak to him in your leave, but found nothing more of comfort.

“You put Shireen on that pyre, not her. Which means that little girl’s blood is on your hands. If I ever see you anywhere in the North, or anywhere near her ever again, I’ll hang you myself.”

You felt him beside you as she left. Both once dead, brought back for the other side by side as the moon fell high over the sky you thought for a moment, that it felt normal to be beside him like that. But just as the thought came to you, so did the guilt, so did the blood, and so did the twisting lies of Ramsay as he took you in ways now that only two men you ever loved had you.

And you felt sick. Jon was looking at you, but you both knew you were trying to not look back and you wished you never interfered in his life in the first place. Unable to shake the thought that Jon simply would been better off if you left him alone. He didn’t need you to bring him down just as he found true leadership for the only cause that mattered. Both of you could feel something rotting and dreadful inside of you that day you separated on the Kingsroad and only now did that feeling stop for good.

Somewhere in the dead of night, he wondered if it just might be the gods trying to tell you both, that you and Jon Snow hadn’t just wanted it, but that you had truly needed to be together. He couldn’t find reason to chalk up these dreams, these visions, and the way only you brought him back to all but coincidence.

He just needed to find a way to make you believe that. And more present and urgently, he needed to know exactly what Ramsay Bolton had done to you, to twist your fears of Jon’s love into this such terrifying doubt inside you.

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