#is it not so interesting that he was the sole cause of his own death

[bronzeplates]

The weight of your own actions can get heavy...

[shomatoriashi]

11/03/24; 06:20pm

sylus x fem.reader

love and deepspace - spy au | canon divergent | inspired by the kingsman movie series

warnings: unedited; 18+ content; potentially ooc; alcohol use; death of a family member; angst to fluff / smut; sylus is referred to skye in this story / au.

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

alternate title: the spy who loved me.

sylus qin-

a name that was synonymous with fear among the underground world.

much of his background was left a mystery, but that didn't stop people from trying to fill in the missing details with their own rumors-

like how he wasn't human due to the destructive evol he carried; that he had struck a deal with the devil himself to obtain such an ability.

or how his movements were as quick and silent as that of shadows, and that sylus had millions of eyes around the world due to his connection to the crows-

yet there was one fact that remained true regardless of what the rumors said, and it was how that man was a vital part of onychinus, a hidden sect made up of skilled assassins and spies that only a select few of people even knew about-

which included your father, the current head of your family's mafia.

he paces around his office, trailing his eyes over his mahogany desk before landing on a picture of you, his sole daughter. his gaze was solemn when he picks up the picture frame, carefully tracing at your smiling features as you were being held within your mother's embrace.

you had turned 24, celebrating your birthday with your mother as you wore the bracelet she had given you that day as a gift. looking at this picture causes the man's heart to clench almost painfully within his chest.

his wife was still so vibrant; how could he have possibly known that her life would end just a mere few weeks later? a bullet had pierced through her heart, his men unable to shield her when a rival faction had targeted her. and upon realizing that your mother had died-

you had changed drastically.

no longer were you the starry-eyed girl who clung to her parents, basking in their unconditional love for you. now, you became someone that had little regard for her own life-

you drank copious amounts of alcohol, going out to bars every single night with every intention to get blacked out drunk. the pain of losing your mother took its toll on you, and truly, your father understood where this behavior was coming from. the loss of your mother was enough to push you over the edge.

despite his best efforts of trying to soothe your broken soul through various means (buying you a new car, filling your room with all of the things you loved)-

it didn't work.

and if he couldn't stop you soon, then he would lose you, too.

he no longer trusted his men to truly keep you safe during this dire time in your life-

which was why he resorted to hiring the devil himself to be your shield.

{ ... }

when sylus was told he had a new client by luke and kieran, he was barely interested and simply waved off their excitement.

however, once the twins showed him the down payment the man, mr. zero, had given him-

he was all too willing to meet with the man to see what his next job would be like. using one of the many bars he had owned as a meeting spot, sylus had sent his client a text detailing the time and place with a thinly veiled warning of what would happen if he was ever late.

adjusting his suit, sylus brushes back his hair while entering the club, crimson eyes scanning the area before heading towards one of the private rooms. the bouncer greets him before opening the door, revealing a middle aged man seated in front of him.

the door was heard shutting from behind him, and sylus takes a brief moment to finally assess zero's features. as the onychinus leader stared at him, he noticed how the man appeared much older than he probably was. a weary expression was seen on his face, and even when he was smiling at him, it was filled with a bitterness.

"i hope that my payment was enough to get your attention, mr. qin." sylus hums, going towards the bar to pour him and mr. zero a shot of whiskey. "you could say that... after all, there's not many people who would give me a down payment of 50 million."

after pouring the drinks, sylus hands zero a glass before sitting across from him. he takes casual sips of the amber liquid, allowing the smoky flavor to burn down his throat as he waited for the older man to speak. zero runs a hand across his hair, tilting the glass up to his lips as he downed the shot of whiskey within seconds. as he slams down the glass, zero pulls out a photograph before sliding it across the table.

setting his drink to the side, sylus takes a moment to admire the picture, seeing a young woman smiling with what he assumed was her mother.

"that's my daughter and her mother... my wife- she was killed a year ago, and i have never been able to forgive myself for being unable to protect my wife." sylus frowns at the image, detecting the way zero's voice broke down. "my daughter still grieves the loss of her mother, and i'm afraid that she'll go down a path that not even i can save her from."

"please, i beg of you, mr. qin. i need you to protect my daughter by whatever means is necessary. if you do this for me, with each month that she remains safe- at least until i can finally bring my wife's murderer to justice, i swear to you, i'll give you 10 million."

sylus's eyes darken with amusement, tilting up his own glass of whiskey as he downs the shot in one gulp. letting out a satisfied sigh, sylus sits back against the couch while spinning the glass around his pointer finger, "10 million per month... and if my services were to last an entire year-"

"money is not an issue when it comes to protecting the ones that i love." zero's gaze was filled with a determination, making sylus break out into an almost shit-eating grin.

perhaps the best clients were the doting fathers who would give anything for their daughters.

{ ... }

your dad had put you on lockdown again.

but were you going to let that stop you?

hell no.

surrounding the borders of your room were dozens of men that worked for your father. not only had they put an external lock on your bedroom door, but a tracker on your phone as well.

deep down, you knew the true reasoning as to why your father kept you in such a luxurious cage-

but you refused to acknowledge it.

feeling your heart begin to clench with pain, you look away from your door and allowed your gaze to land on the shimmering gold settled on your right wrist. as you take in the various charms and the way the gemstones glittered below your bedroom light, a memory of a loving smile was brought to the forefront of your mind-

a loving smile you would never see again.

panic was felt rising against your throat, the raw pain of it all threatening to spill out of you as bitter and harsh as bile. your heart continues to pound, filling you with a desperation as you quickly headed toward your window.

fueled by your own grief, you push open the window and breathe in the cold air, allowing the rush of adrenaline to course through you. your eyes look at the distance between the edge of your window and the ground below. knowing that this was the only way for you to get out of your stifling prison, you began to climb out of your window sill, trying to hang on to the best of your abilities as you decided when the best time to jump was.

as you focused your attention on the pristine grass that was settled below you, the sounds of a motorcycle passing by makes your heart jump within the confines of your throat. your eyes become quickly blinded by the searing light, making you lose your grip on the windowsill.

your body make its quick descent to the ground, and you clenched your eyes shut, preparing yourself for the painful impact-

yet the impact never comes, with your ears managing to pick up the sounds of something shift within the air. your eyes become wide, seeing a tall man with silver hair appear in front of you as he captures you in his arms.

time seemed to stand still, with the perfect stranger shielding you as he landed on the ground with an audible grunt. he ends up taking the brunt of the fall while keeping you safely tucked away with his embrace. blood was felt rushing to your ears, making you feel dizzy as you steadied yourself by placing the palm of your hand against his chest.

you found yourself straddling this man's waist, lips parted as you drank in the sight of him. never before had you seen such a pure, masculine beauty quite like him, with full lips and ruby red eyes that could make your heart melt-

and judging from the sheer girth of his arms wrapped around you, the strength of his body was evident to you as well.

he smirks at you, and you wince when he places the pad of his thumb against your lips, "what's this? has a princess just escaped from her castle?"

your mouth goes dry upon hearing his voice, and had you been given more time, you would have basked in his voice-

however, sudden cries of your name was what succeeds in breaking you out of your reveries. with a gasp, you cling to this hot stranger and look at him with pleading eyes.

"please, you've got to get me away from here, i beg of you."

he shoots up an eyebrow at you, but thankfully does not ask questions. taking you in his arms, he takes quick strides toward the single motorbike settled on the street. you take in the sight of the sleek vehicle, eyebrows furrowed when you saw two helmets settle on the seat.

but you were given little time to think about it, feeling your bare feet land against the concrete as he relinquishes his hold on you. tossing you the other helmet, he gestures at you to get behind him, "if it's a getaway you want, it's a getaway you're going to get, sweetie."

calls of your name were getting louder now, which prompted you to get on the back of his bike while donning the helmet. as he revved up his bike, you made sure to flash your middle finger at your father's men all while clinging to the front of your savior's chest.

{ ... }

sylus wasn't expecting you to be so damn alluring up close. as he felt the way your body was pressed against his back, a strange warm begins to surround him, the sensation being enough to make his heart begin to race steadily from within his chest. when sylus made his escape from your home, the change in your demeanor was immediate.

the sounds of your melodious laughter echoes from behind him, and he sees the way your hair whips from behind you. reaching a stoplight, he brakes in time, balancing his bike while taking a moment to look back at you-

which ends up being the biggest mistake he could make.

he feels the way your head rests against his broad back, noticing the almost wistful expression in your eyes. ignoring the way his heart began to pound, sylus focuses on the traffic light. deciding to hide his emotions behind a snarky remark, he begins to speak, "it's not normal for spoiled princesses like you to get on a bike with a stranger."

sylus swore he could hear your pout, "i'm not a princess... i'm just... i just want to forget."

he hears the way your voice breaks and frowns, ready to say something, but stops when the light turns green. shaking his head, sylus chooses to forget about your pain, recalling the reason why he was put in this situation to begin with.

strengthening his resolve, sylus picks up speed and weaves expertly across the city, the sound of your laughter no longer echoing from behind him.

{ ... }

your savior ends up taking you to the top floor of a high-rise apartment. carrying the two helmets within his hand, you watch as he extracts a sleek black key card from his pocket, opening the door for you to step in first.

"after you, princess."

"i have a name." you fold your arms across your chest, telling the man the syllables that make up your name. amusement was heard in his voice, and you forced yourself to remain calm when his rich voice repeated your name.

"i like that name, it suits a feisty woman like you. as for me, you may call me skye."

as you step into his apartment, you take in the the luxurious furniture, recognizing the brands while your hands traced at the onyx figurines of crows settled on the table. you look back at the man and scoff, "skye? i'm sorry, but that name does not suit you at all."

you look away from him, becoming interested in the cabinet that was filled with expensive bottles of liquor, completely missing the offended look on skye's face. you step closer to the cabinet, pulling the glass door open before gripping at a bottle of cognac.

before you could twist the cap open, sylus stops you by placing a hand around your wrist. a stern expression was settled on his face, "and what do you think you're doing?"

"i'm trying to forget." a flash of emotion was seen in his gaze, yet just as it appears, it was gone within mere seconds. even when you attempted to remove your hand from his grip, skye doesn't relent, managing to take the bottle of cognac away from you.

"whatever you're trying to forget, i'm sure using liquor isn't the answer."

skye places the bottle back into the cabinet, slamming it shut before taking your hand. as he grips at your wrist, you caught sight of your bracelet shimmering against your skin-

making your throat close up in response.

caught up in your painful reveries, you were dimly aware of how skye places you on a seat, settling you in front of a dining table. your eyes never once looked away from the bracelet your mother had given you-

the last gift you would ever receive from her.

you think back to your last day with her-

and the need to reach out and get a bottle to help with drowning your emotions quickly resurfaces, with you ready to bolt towards the cabinet when the sound of glass being slammed in front of you snaps you out of it.

skye was settled in front of you, a frown painting his devastating features when he slides the glass of ice water toward you. "drink this instead, you need it."

unable to find it in yourself to go against him, you take the glass and place it to your lips, draining it within a few gulps. skye watches you intently, noticing the few droplets that fell from your mouth before descending toward your throat, making his eyes darken in response to the sight.

letting out a weary sigh, you place the glass back down on the table, not meeting skye's gaze. listening as he gently inhaled, skye tentatively asks you, "this is none of my business, but i need to know... just what are you trying so hard to forget?"

you don't answer him for several seconds, clenching your eyes shut as you allowed your hands to form into fists against the table. no matter how much time had passed, this was something you would never get over-

"i lost my mom... she was killed..."

you keep your eyes shut, just basking in your memories as you told skye everything. it was strange, but something about skye made you want to open up to him-

that even though you knew it was crazy to feel such a thing for a man you

"to keep it simple, my father... he's a... he's a really powerful man. he comes from a long line- from old money, essentially. when he was younger, he fell in love with my mom, who happened to be a normal civilian."

you take a moment to gather your emotions, taking in a deep breath as your hands began to tremble. just when you felt like you were close to losing it, skye places a hand over yours, engulfing it in a warmth that soothed your anxieties.

opening your eyes, you gasp upon seeing how close skye was to you. his rufescent eyes appeared... softer, somehow. you felt the way his hands gently frame at your face as the pad of his thumb traced at your bottom lip.

"and you were born out of love." skye's voice was solemn, with his expression void of its playfulness. yet his words succeeds in making your throat clench even further in response. you were left dumbfounded, watching as sylus slowly inched closer to you, with his lips a mere few inches away from your own-

why did it feel like he knew?

his breath warms at your lips, and just as you were about to close your eyes to meet with him-

a sudden knock at the door makes you jump away from him.

skye clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he stands from his seat to answer the door. you were about to ask who it was, but stopped when you smelled the familiar scent of your favorite takeout. with the bag in hand, skye returns to you, placing the food in front of you. as you looked at all the containers, you said out loud, "all of these are my favorites..."

you catch the momentary stiffness in skye's composure before he visibly relaxes. "sweetie, you are mistaken, since such a meal can be anyone's favorite."

the strangeness of it all was starting to get to you-

but when skye opens up a container and offers it to you, you allow the lingering scent to wrap around you, awakening in you a hunger that you hadn't felt in a long time. taking a hold of your utensils, you began to dig into your favorite food-

with the lingering doubts still settled at the back of your mind.

{ ... }

being around you proved to be a much more challenging feat than sylus could have ever anticipated.

before he got to know you, sylus had every intention of whisking you away after your failed escaping attempt, keeping you within his penthouse for 12 months with the goal of collecting the 120 million from your father-

but now that he was forced to be in your presence-

forced to see the vulnerability in your eyes along with the pain that came from missing your mother-

he felt something change.

why did it suddenly feel like the money didn't matter to him anymore?

why did the sight of your smile cause his heart to do somersaults within his chest?

why did it feel like his mission was to truly protect you without any conditions?

sylus quickly erases those thoughts from his mind the moment his phone rings. looking down at the screen, he notices the caller's name and visibly stiffens.

it was your father, the man who chose his alias to be zero.

was it already time for his monthly report?

closing his eyes, he answers the call while ignoring the feeling of guilt that threatens to take root inside of him.

{ ... }

your relationship with skye was... odd, to say the least.

despite how serendipitous your meeting with him felt (like he was in the right place at the right time the night of your desperate escape), you couldn't deny that a part of you felt safe with him.

perhaps the loss of your mother made you lose a bit of your rationality. losing her felt like you were left with a gaping hole deep inside of your chest-

a hole that you wanted to be filled by skye.

it was maddening, trying to sift through your emotions when it came to skye. you had been staying with him for close to 6 months now, yet the way he payed so much attention to you (seeming to care for you while buying the things you needed, never once complaining about your presence) coupled along with his lingering kindness-

it was enough for him to weasel his way into your heart-

yet at the same time, you knew that he was acting suspicious. there was something that skye was hiding from you, which did nothing but further complicate the feelings you had for him.

despite how strange everything felt, one fact remained undeniable-

and it was the fact that his presence was enough to pacify the shattering pain of your mother's death, with you practically clinging to him as the days went by. with his snarky and haughty attitude, you felt incredibly safe when he was close to you-

even now, you found yourself yearning for his presence, even though he was settled a mere few feet away from you. your hands itched with the need to grab on to his hand and ruffle his hair each time he teased you-

so caught up in your thoughts, you end up unconsciously walking toward his room, noticing how it remained slightly open. his deep voice was heard speaking in hushed tones into his cellphone, and as you neared the room, you heard a familiar sound coming from skye's phone-

"i don't want the money anymore, i'll send every last penny back, just please-" skye harshly speaks into his phone, making your heart turn to ice when you recognized the booming voice on the other line-

it was the sound of your father's voice.

"how do you know my father?" skye immediately faces you, dropping his phone in the progress. the man visibly pales, swallowing thickly as he shakily called out your name.

"i-it's not what you think, please believe me, it's not what you think it is-"

"you...you lied to me? you had b-been working for my father this whole time?" angry tears cascades down your face, and when skye visibly winces, looking away from you while letting out a string of curses-

that was all the evidence that you needed.

you turn away from him, running out of his room as the tears marred your vision. reaching the front door, you pull it open with a brute force that nearly rips it from its hinges. knowing that he would catch you if you tried to use the elevators, you hurriedly take the stairs, making your desperate descent while choking back your sobs.

everything made sense now-

like how strange it was that skye had another helmet for you-

or how he knew your favorite takeout-

and the way he seemed to read your mind these past couple of months-

it was all because of your father.

everything had been meticulously planned by him-

and you were stupid enough to fall for it.

gasping for air, you manage to escape out of the apartment building, the tears streaming even faster down your cheek as you staggered into the street, breaking out into a run while praying that skye wouldn't find you.

your mind was in a deep haze, exhaustion tingeing your every step when a low whistle was heard.

"i knew you'd run out of onychinus's cage eventually."

your movements ceased when you felt the barrel of the gun become pressed against your head, an icy sensation now felt coursing through your veins. your throat turns dry, and you caught sight of a tattooed man sneering at you, cocking his gun once more before pressing it against your temple.

"you're comin' with me, princess." he smirks at you, continuing to press the gun even closer to your head, "as much as i'd like to shoot your pretty little brains out like i did with your mama, i'm sure your daddy's willing to pay a hefty price just to have you back. once i get the money, then i'll kill him before claiming victory-" he was suddenly cut off when a crow manages to slam the gun out of his hands, its beady eyes never once straying from the man as it let out a harsh caw!

"what the fuck-"

the man was unable to finish his sentence when darkness surrounds the entirety of his body, wrapping around his form like deadly tendrils-

"close your eyes, princess."

recognizing skye's voice, you immediately turn away from him and clench your eyes shut, hearing a piercing scream before the wet sounds of something imploding in on itself echoes throughout the area. you fell down to your knees, only to be caught by a powerful pair of arms.

you were openly sobbing now, clinging to the front of his shirt, "s-skye... w-what...why-"

skye cuts you off, swallowing your words with a searing kiss when he crashes his lips against yours. you moan at the sudden sensation, tightening your grip on him as he pulls you into his broad chest, shielding you from the gruesome sight that was settled a mere few inches away from you.

"not here," he purposely crushes your face within his chest, blocking your vision when he picks you up. your tears were still falling, yet you felt the strange sensation of your body being pulled, with the air seeming to crackle with static in response for a brief moment-

before landing back within the quiet safety of skye's living room.

with your face still hidden within his chest, you felt the way skye began to tremble, pulling away from you. he shakily frames at your face, using the pad of his thumb to trace at your bottom lip before telling you, "fuck, i thought i lost you-"

as if remembering the moment, skye takes you back into his arms, pressing another kiss against your lips, filled with an even greater desperation than the last one.

not daring to break apart his connection to you, he takes you to his bedroom, kicking down the door before falling into his bed with him. your hands grip at the silken sheets, letting out a moan when skye dips a hand into the waistband of your pants.

"it may have started out as a lie, but my feelings for you are true." you feel the way he dips a finger into your folds, collecting your arousal as you tossed your head back in response. his breathing becomes labored when he inserts his middle fingers inside of you, thrusting the single digit in and out of your core before huskily admitting to you, "my true name... is sylus qin... and your father hired me to protect you."

a part of you felt angry and annoyed, but feeling the way skye sylus was moving his thick finger in and out of your slick heat was making your mind go hazy. instead of using your words, you allow your nails to grip at his biceps before raking down his skin, earning a hiss from him.

"fuck, kitten, that hurt- but how about you punish me more and give my back those same claw marks?"

you hated how the sight of his smirk was enough to make your legs clench in response for him, feeling sylus remove his finger from your slick heat momentarily, now gripping at the waistband of his pants as unbuckled himself-

his crimson gaze was eclipsed by complete darkness now, his desire and need for you evident in the way he tore off his clothes, ensuring that he was utterly bare for you. your traitorous heart ends up racing in response to his nakedness, and you felt a powerful ache settle between your legs at the sight of sylus's godly form. recognizing the lust in your eyes causes him to smirk as he places his large hands against your clothes, now working on tearing off your own clothes until you were utterly bare for him.

hungry eyes raked through your form, and you watch as sylus licked his lips before laying back down against the bed. he spreads your legs wide open for him, giving your inner thighs a kiss before whispering against your skin, "let me show you the true depths of my devotion to you... let me make it up to you."

"sylus-"

you had only said his true name out loud, but it was enough to make sylus surge forward, burying his face within your slick walls. the sensation of his tongue drinking up the evidence of your honeyed arousal makes you fall back in bed, hands gripping at his soft hair. instinctively, you spread your legs wider for him, allowing sylus to take you to heaven when he kept devouring you like he was a man starved.

never had you felt such potent sensations of pleasure before, with sylus expertly eliciting moans and gasps of his name, allowing it to fall from your parted lips like a never-ending mantra. as he continued his ministrations on you, the more you felt a coil seem to tighten within your abdomen. "o-oh my god, s-sylus!"

you gasp when your back arches against the bed, with sylus keeping your hips still as you spilled yourself into his hot mouth. with a grunt of your name, sylus drinks in everything you had to offer. red hot pleasure courses through you, making you cry out to him as you tightened your grip against his hair.

"ngh... fuck... you taste s'fucking sweet." sylus manages to release his hair from your hands, crawling toward you as he spread your legs wide for him to settle between. drunk off of the sheer taste of you, sylus presses his lips against yours, purposely deepening the kiss, allowing you to taste yourself with his kiss alone.

distracting you with his kiss, you managed to remain relaxed for him when sylus suddenly pushes his cock into your entrance, the sudden intrusion making you toss your head back as you cling to sylus. a string of curses was heard coming from the man settled above you. when you felt your walls taking in every inch you had to offer (completely sheathing him), you lost all train of thought, allowing the man to piston his hips in and out of you.

"fuck...!" sylus grips at your hips, keeping it still as he begins to thrust his cock in and out of your slick walls at a breakneck pace. the squelching sounds of your lovemaking echo throughout the room, making you cry out to him when you felt the moisture flowing out of you.

"o-oh...!" you gasp, wrapping your legs around sylus's naked waist, allowing him to reach deeper inside of you with each pound. by now, he was quite literally fucking you into his bed-

and you found yourself enjoying every minute of it.

from the way sylus seemed to harshly grip at your waist, you were certain that it would leave a bruise-

yet you didn't care, allowing this powerful man to bring you towards another release while you sloppily met his thrusts with your own-

the telltale sensation of his cock growing inside of you as he tightens, stilling his hips one last time before spilling thick ropes of his cum deep within you succeeds in making you cry out to him, your voice seeming to echo throughout the room along with sylus's growl of your name.

unable to help himself, sylus captures your lips once more, purposely swallowing your moans as he rode out both of your releases, his hips weakly pounding in and out of you, making sure that you had milked every last drop out of him before landing next to you on the bed.

your body was damp with sweat as a pleasant haze goes through you. not wishing to break your connection with sylus, you tentatively move closer to him, resting your head against his chest before pressing a kiss against it.

"y-you... did you want me... to forget that i'm mad at you by fucking my brains out?" you weakly manage to tease him, earning a rich chuckle from him.

"depends... is it working?" he leans down to press a kiss against your hair, making you smile when you cheekily tell him,

"how about you find out... when we go a few more rounds...?"

sylus needed no further urging from you, returning back to you as he placed a desperate kiss against your lips...

[ epilogue ]

your father was pacing around his office, filled with anxiety at being caught.

he prayed that you would forgive him-

that he could see you again, happy and whole despite your own pain.

truly, your father wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms, to bring you back home all while telling you that he did this all in the name of love-

that losing your mother made him go crazy at the thought of losing you, too-

but a part of him still felt too guilty to do anything.

as he was caught up in his thoughts, the sound of a notification coming from his phone startles him, making him look down at his phone to see a message from sylus himself.

eager to know what it says, he opens up the text and reads through it, eyes filled with relief as the older man breaks out into a grin. in the text was what looked like a screenshot of a bank account wiring back 110 million dollars along with a single text:

i finally understand. she's worth all the money. with this payment, i promise to protect her for the rest of my life - s.q.

end notes: omg i can't believe i'm gonna lose sleep over this story, but lmaoo, it's my dream story, and i need to finish writing this. spy!sylus, how i need you so 😭🙌🏻 this is currently unedited, but i'll make any changes tomorrow, it's bedtime for me!! also, for the reader's dad using an alias to contact sy, i wanted to do something so you readers could use any name that suits you outside of the alias! making it a true insert hhhhhhhh 🥹 this was a tough story to write though, but i hope you readers enjoyed it all the same!

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[aliceinborderlandscrolls]

How To Make A Cheshire Blush

Chishiya Shuntarō x reader

You make it your goal to see Chishiya blush

Fluff - Suggestive

I have known Chishiya Shuntarō for a little over eight months since entering the borderland. In that time I have never seen him flustered… Ever.

How is that even possible? What man could be so calm and collected that nothing makes his cheeks flush the color of strawberries? Not even when facing death does his calmness fade…

I glanced over at Chishiya who was watched the group we teamed up with mild amusement as they betrayed each other one by one. How can they all be so foolish? If only they would put their fears aside and trust one another. Maybe then we could all make it out alive and find out who the Jack of Hearts really is. This entire game was so tiresome. I sighed loudly, earning a glance from Choshiya before he returned his gaze to a man sweating profusely as he told another player their suit.

“We’ve been here for days and it’s so…” I folded my arms on the table, “Boring.” I sighed again as my shoulders slumped.

“Find something to do.” Chishiya had zero interest in my boredom and did nothing to try and entertain me.

It wasn’t his problem nor benefit him, so why should he care?

My attention found its way to the pair, Aba and Kotoko. It seemed that they have been attached to the hip quite literally since the start of the game. Studying them closely, they reminded me of a business looking man and his personal assistant.

I chuckled at the thought of all the drama and scandal they might have caused in the old world, especially if he was high up there. I watched as Kotoko pressed herself even more into Aba’s side while he looked as if he held all the power. For a moment I wondered what it would be like to be just like her. To be someone who didn’t rely solely on herself.

I suppose in a way I have some trust to Chishiya, I considered him my friend. He did treat me as a friend though. I also considered Kuina a friend and I knew she thought the same about me. My mind briefly drifted to her and I hoped that she was doing okay, alive somewhere right now.

My thoughts drifted back to Chishiya. He was cool and highly intelligent, not to mention drop dead gorgeous, but something I wonder if he would sacrifice me for his gain.

“I wonder what that feels like.” I muttered as I placed my chin in the palm of my hand.

“What?” Chishiya took a bite from his own bag of cookies as his attention flicked over to where I was looking, “To be a self righteous prick?”

“No.” I shook my head leaning on my chin, “To rely so heavily on someone to protect you that you don’t learn how to protect yourself.”

“You wouldn’t make it very far with that mentality.” Chishiya muttered, “Luckily, you’re too smart for that.”

I grinned at the small compliment from the Cheshire man. It was rare to hear praise from him even if it was usually mixed with mockery. It was in that moment that my innocent grin turned sly as I thought of the perfect thing that could keep my boredom at bay.

His brows furrowed at my smile, “Quit looking at me like that, it’s weird.”

“What if the only person I knew to keep me safe was you?” My grin turned into a smirk.

“But it isn’t?” His answer came out more of a question as he tried to figure out my plan.

“But what if?” I leaned my weight onto his side, wrapping my arms around one of his, “Would you take advantage of my undying loyalty, Shuntarō?” I could see a blush coat his cheeks and I couldn’t help, but laugh, “Of course you would, you sneaky cat.”

He nudged me off him with a grunt. I leaned closer to make sure I was seeing this right… The Chishiya Shuntarō was in fact, blushing.

“Oh my stars.” I gasped in amusement as I pressed a hand to my heart, “Is that a blush I see, Chishi?”

I did it! I thought as excitement built up inside me. I made him blush!

“No.” He looked away from me.

“I think it is.” I poked his cheek, giggling as I sat back.

My giggling died down as I looked at him. He didn’t say anything, but he seemed flustered. Is it possible that he held some kind of feelings for me?

“Chishi.” I smiled when he looked at me, “You want some?” I held up my strawberry cake roll.

He eyed me and it suspiciously before he gave a simple nod. I opened the package, breaking off a piece for him to try. I shook my head as he reached for it as I brought it up to his lips. He opened his mouth slowly as he took a bite.

“So would that make you a self righteous prick?” I teased quietly as I fed the cake to him.

He rolled his eyes and he leaned back, taking time to chew and see if he liked the cake.

“Way too much strawberry.” He mumbled after he swallowed, but continued to eat the next piece I gave him.

He returned the gesture with his own bag of cookies as we munched on the others snacks.

“I am an asshole.” He spoke without hesitation, “I am not kind. I am manipulative and I do what I must to get ahead. I don’t care about anything so why are you always hanging around me?”

“You are those things, but I think you’re wrong about how you see yourself Chishiya. You are so much more than that. You are kind, to Kuina and to me. You are manipulative, but that just means how intelligent you are in understanding everything. You can solve the hardest puzzle on earth with just a glance. You say you don’t care, but deep down I know that you do. You have just built a wall that is worth climbing because you mean more than anything in the world to me.” I answered softly.

He wasn’t able to respond as the speaker dinged.

“I believe it’s almost time.” I sighed as I looked up at the clock.

My attention turned to Kotoko who grabbed a packet of cookies… The same brand that Matsushita grabbed a few minutes ago.

“Hm…” I hummed watching what would be a meaningless passerby between the two, “Maybe I do have more undying loyalty than Kotoko.”

“Seems so.” Chishiya smirked.

I turned in my seat, brushing my hair away from my collar.

“Heart.” He said and turned so that I could tell him his suit.

“Diamond.” I repeated the symbol I saw.

“Fits us well.” He muttered standing up to begin our journey to our cells.

“Aw does that mean I have your heart Chishi?” I stepped up to him teasingly.

“You have my headache.” He stated before walking into his cell.

I entered the one beside him with a warm feeling creeping in my chest. I think it’s the other way around, I think you have my heart Shuntarō.

“Heart.” I spoke my final answer as I waited to leave the cell.

[starsofang]

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.

[regiawrites]

And There Will Be No Tenderness - S.R

Warning(s): Sub!Spencer, Fem!Dom!Reader, Brief Overstimulation, Riding, General Idiocy Word Count: 6134 Summary: Y/N and Reid never see eye-to-eye, but one kiss changes everything.

Garcia hustled into the conference room as quickly as she could with the height of her hot pink pumps, fiddling with the remote as she moved. "Good morning, my lovelies," She greeted the team. "Sorry for the hurry, but this one's a bad one."

"When are they good ones?" Rossi asked dryly as he flipped open the manilla folder in his hands.

"An excellent point," she granted, "but this one is particularly bad." 

She clicked the remote and a series of gruesome images appeared on the screen, so gruesome, in fact, that even Hotch's face twitched. Four women, clearly dead, were covered in blood, bruises, and an array of other injuries, although no two seemed similar.

"These unfortunate four are Kerry Whittingham, Jasmyn Willis, Carly Smythe and Louise Fresca," Garcia said, gesturing to each of the women as she did so. "All of these women have been missing for between 6 and 11 months, all reported missing by their families within a week of them vanishing."

"How have they been linked together?" Morgan asked. "They all have different causes of death." 

"Yeah," Y/N agreed. "Kerry Whittingham was evisceration, but it says here that Carly Smythe's cause of death was drowning. What's the connection?" 

"That is where things get really bad," Garcia said with a grimace before clicking the remote again. 

Four images of matching symbols appeared, each woman having the same mark burned into their wrists.

"Are those brands?" Y/N asked, horrified, making brief eye contact with JJ who mirrored her expression. 

"Human trafficking, maybe?" Emily suggested and Garcia nodded. 

"The local police department thinks so, yeah." 

"So, they're being sold-" Y/N started, but was cut off by Reid scoffing 'Obviously'. She shot him a glare but spared him no response as she continued. "-and showing up dead. Are there any signs of sexual abuse?" 

"Only on Jasmyn Willis," Garcia answered.

"So, they're not being sold to be sex slaves," Y/N guessed. "They're being sold to be killed."

"Or they're just being sold to whoever's interested," Reid contradicted, as he always did. "I doubt a human trafficker cares." 

"But they WOULD," Y/N argued with a roll of her eyes. "If they were being traded for sex, the trafficker would be more concerned with keeping them alive." 

"Y/L/N's right," Hotch said, and Y/N shot Reid a smug smile that he ignored. "A trafficker would want to keep the women alive so they could continue to bring in money. They're likely being kidnapped and traded with the sole purpose of being tortured and killed." 

"What like some kind of sick eBay for serial killers?" Rossi asked, face twisted in disgust.

"That's one way of looking at it," Hotch sighed as he stood. "Wheels up in 20."

As the team filed out of the room, Y/N glared at Reid as they walked towards the bullpen. "Stop contradicting me at every chance you get, asshole!" she snapped at him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You know," he started, "research suggests that those who frequently use curse words are less intelligent than those that don't."

"Oh, shut up, Reid."

"Most likely due to a lack of adequate vocabulary," he continued.

"Shut up, Reid."

"I'm just saying, maybe you'd be less insecure about me 'contradicting' you if you-"

"If you're about to imply I'm an idiot, I will hit you," she told him, glaring up at him as they reached their desks. She leaned down to grab her go-bag from beneath her desk.

"You're also very quick to resort to threats of physical violence, which further suggests you have a lack of trust in your own intellect," he said, grabbing his own go-bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Don't profile me, Reid," she said, voice flat and unamused, before she turned and headed out. 

Trailing after her, Reid said, "I'm not profiling you; I'm making an observation about a coworker." 

"And your observation is that I'm stupid?" 

"I don't think you're stupid," he said with a shrug, and Y/N narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

"You don't?"

"You're a qualified profiler, you can't be stupid," he said. "I do, however, think you're reckless, untrusting of yourself and quick to jump to conclusions." 

"I'm not untrusting of myself," she argued, though she couldn't say she wasn't reckless. She was notorious for thinking with her heart and acting on impulse.

"If you weren't, my contradictions wouldn't bother you." 

"That is so not how that works!" she snapped. "How would you feel if every time you said anything, someone was like 'uhm, actually'?" As she said 'uhm, actually', her voice slipped into a high-pitched, nasally lilt, and she mimed pushing glasses up the bridge of her nose.

They reached the elevator, and continued to bicker as they stepped inside.

And for the whole elevator ride down. 

And for the whole walk to the jet. 

Mercifully, the pair sat at opposite ends of the jet, and didn't talk to each other for the flight, so the team had some peace.

 ***

Within a few hours, the team was set up in the conference room of a police station in Pasadena, Captain Ray Jenkins sitting among them. He was a tall, portly man with a thick moustache and a heavy brow.

"So, the suspect you have in custody had DNA matching two of the victims in the back of his van?" Y/N asked Jenkins.

"Yes, and he also had Carly Smythe's engagement ring in his glove box," he told them, showing them a picture of a diamond ring. "He's remaining silent, though." 

"I'd like to talk to him," she said, and Jenkins nodded. From somewhere beside her, Reid snorted, and she turned to glare at him. "What?" 

"I'm shocked you want to talk to him, is all," he commented with a tight-lipped smile. 

"Why would I not want to talk to a suspect?" she demanded, and he shrugged. 

"Talking involves patience. And tact."

"Oh, 'tact' says the most awkward person I've ever met," Y/N snapped. "I've had to watch you talk to women before, you don't have much tact then." 

Reid turned to face her straight on and level her with a glare, but Hotch held a hand up. "Don't start," was his only warning, effectively shutting them both up. "Y/L/N, you talk to the suspect." 

***

Kyle Hannigan was skinny.

That was the first thing Y/N had noticed about him as he sat across from her in the interrogation room. 

Skinny and short.

There was no way this man kidnapped those women, at least not on his own. 

"You didn't kill those women, Kyle," Y/N said, leaning on the desk between them, flipping through the pictures. 

"That's what I've been saying all this time," he huffed back, testy. As irritated as he sounded, he looked unnerved as his eyes flicked to-and-from the photographs of the mutilated women.

"You don't even know who killed them, do you, Kyle?" she pushed.

"No!" 

"I don't even think you touched them," she said, fighting back a smile when he raised a questioning brow at her. "I mean look at you-" she gestured to him, "-you're short, you're skinny. Jasmyn Willis was 5'9 and a weightlifter, she could have fought you off blindfolded." Kyle's jaw ticked at the insult, but he remained silent. "You're just the delivery driver." 

He stared at her, dark eyes looking up through his brows.

"So, if you're just the delivery driver, who got those women into the van, Kyle?" she asked. "And more importantly, who's running the operation?" 

He continued to stare at her, silent. 

"You know, whoever's above you in the food chain is absolutely going to let you go to prison for this," she told him. "Hell, they probably want you to take the fall. You gain nothing by protecting these people." 

"It'll be my word against his, and no one will believe me over him," he said, low and slow, leaning towards her with a glare. "So, what's the point?" She, too, leaned forward and matched his fiery glare with a cool, flat stare.

"Your word against who's, Kyle?" 

His eyes flicked towards the one-way mirror behind her, then back down to her, and she didn't miss the desperation in his eyes. 

He wanted to tell her.

He looked up at the CCTV camera positioned in the corner of the room.

"Who?" 

He continued to stare at her before raising his right hand, forming it into a claw shape and tapping it to his shoulder.

"That's all you're getting out of me," he said, before folding his arms over his chest.

***

"A claw shape that he tapped to his shoulder?" JJ asked. "What does that mean?" 

"It's ASL," Reid said matter-of-factly, pulling out his phone. 

"And what's it ASL for?" Jenkins asked him, and Reid shrugged. "I thought you were a genius."

"That doesn't mean I'm all-knowing," Reid said, simply. He began typing something into his phone.

"Great load of good that is, then," Jenkins grunted. "What do we do now?" 

"Our tech analyst is looking through his cell phone history to see if there's any suspicious activity that could be an accomplice," Hotch informed him, but Y/N didn't pay much attention to Jenkin's reply as her phone vibrated. 

She unlocked it and, surprised to see a text from Reid, she looked up to give him a questioning look, but he was pointedly not looking at her. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she tapped on the notification and had to force her face to remain neutral.

Reid: It's ASL for Captain.

And that was how Reid and Y/N found themselves snooping around Jenkin's office, looking for incriminating evidence. After forwarding Reid's text to Hotch and Garcia, she slipped into his office, followed by Reid.

"This is not how we're supposed to do this!" Reid hissed at her as she rifled through one of his drawers while he kept watch. "Nothing you find like this will be admissible in court."

"Yeah, yeah," she grunted, closing the drawer as quietly as she could before opening the next one down. 

"We're going to get caught." 

"Not if you do a good job keeping watch, we won't," she said, reaching for a drawer with a lock on it. She pulled and it didn't budge. "Shit, it's locked," she mumbled, looking around the desk for a paperclip, which she found in a small plastic cup, and bent it into an L-shape. 

"What are you doing?" Reid whispered, panicked and stepped away from the door.

"Keep watch!" she hissed back, wiggling the paperclip around and managing to twist the mechanism, unlocking the drawer. "Aha!"

"Why am I not surprised you can do that?" Reid asked, not looking at her. She glared at the back of his head.

"Because I'm a cornucopia runneth over of useful skills," she snarked as she started digging through the drawer. 

"Sure, that's why," he said, but she paid no mind as she started flicking through a folder she found. 

"Holy shit, Reid, I got something," she said, and he spun around to look at her.

"What, really?" he asked, walking over to her and she tilted the folder so he could see it. "Is that-?"

"Carly Smythe, yeah." 

From Y/N's hands, Carly Smythe's bruised, but very alive, face stared back at them from in front of a dirty wall. She was only wearing a white tank top in the picture, and her hair was flat and greasy, eyes hardened as she glared at the camera.

This picture wasn't a part of the investigation.

The picture was stapled to another sheet of paper, one with messy writing scrawled over it. 

Carly

24

140lbs

5'6

Brown eyes

Brown hair

No Tattoos

Limited known sexual history

Sweet voice

$10k min

$33k to Poseidon

"Oh my God," Reid muttered. 

"She isn't the only one either," Y/N said, flipping through the rest of the pages, through profiles of several women, including the four known victims. "We have to get this to Hotch." 

Before Reid could say anything, they heard Jenkins' voice coming from somewhere outside. Y/N's heart dropped.

"You were supposed to keep watch!" she whispered accusatorily at Reid, who sputtered out a response she didn't listen to as she lifted her shirt and shoved the folder into her pants, covering it when her shirt fell back down.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, eye flicking Wilding between her and the door as Jenkins' voice got closer. 

"Smuggling this out of here," she said, like it should have been obvious.

"And what excuse are you going to give him for us being in here?" he demanded, holding his hands up in distress.

"Kiss me," she commanded, and he choked.

"Excuse me?"

"Kiss me!"

And he did.

As the door handle turned, he surged forward and their mouths connected, lips crashing together. 

Reid grabbed Y/N's hips, pulling her body towards his as his tongue glided over hers, taking her by surprise as he took complete control of the kiss. She slid her hands into his hair, tugging it at the roots.

He whined into her mouth, and all higher thought ceased in Y/N's mind.

Pulling his hair harder, she kissed back with a punishing harshness, vaguely registering her ass hitting the desk as Reid pushed her against it, sliding his hands from her hips up to her waist, around her back and pulling her back against him. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged on it, making him whimper in a way that had her whole body heating up in response. 

"Ahem." 

Gasping, they tore away from each other and spun towards the door to see Jenkins smirking at them. "I don't think that's an appropriate workplace activity, Agents," he commented, and Y/N grinned in faux sheepishness. 

"Sorry, it’s all new," she said, pushing Reid away from her less harshly that she ordinarily would. "We can't keep our hands off of each other." 

"I won't tell your Captain, don't worry, sweetheart," he said, a look in his eye as he turned his gaze to her that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Both Y/N and Reid managed to get out of the room, and the folder shoved into the front of Y/N's pants felt like it weighed a tonne.

It took less than 24 hours before Jenkins was on the other side of police custody, coughing up information about his clientele.

Six days later, four other men had been arrested for the murders of the women, and had several other murders linked to them.

Three weeks later, the Team had busted a huge ring of human trafficking. 

One month later, Y/N was still thinking about that kiss. 

Each member of The BAU had been rewarded (read: forced to take) a two-week period of leave after the events of the bust. Morgan had been shot, Rossi had a joint dislocated and, all-in-all, it was an incredibly stressful time.

Five days in and Y/N was going stir-crazy from both the boredom and the haunting thoughts of Reid’s mouth on hers. Every so often her mind would wonder to the plush look of his lips, or the intense furrow of his brow, or- when she was particularly out of control- the whine he’d made against her lips when she pulled his hair.

By day seven, she’d exhausted her Netflix subscription and had purchased Disney plus.

By day nine she’d nearly finished The Golden Girls and was out-of-her-mind bored.

As Dorothy made a snide comment, Y/N’s phone notification went off, and she practically jumped on it in all her enthusiasm. Her enthusiasm promptly dissipated when she realised the text was from Reid, and she rolled her eyes.

Reid: Are you busy?

You: No why?

Reid: I’m bored.

You: Okay and?

Reid: Are you telling me you’re not?

You: Well obviously but I didn’t text you to complain about it

Reid: Can I come over? Everyone else is busy. I’ll buy you pizza.

You: I can buy my own pizza

Reid: It tastes better when it’s free, no?

You: Fine you can come but if you don’t have the pizza I’m not letting you in

Reid: Deal. I’ll be there in an hour.

Oh, God, Reid was coming over.

She tidied up her living area, even rearranging the throw pillows on her couch before looking down at the ratty T-shirt she was wearing and had been wearing for a least three days. She debated leaving it on, but your skin tingled unpleasantly at the thought of Reid seeing it and she reluctantly decided to change.

But she couldn’t change into clean clothes without showering.

And if she was showering anyway, she may as well shave.

But if she shaves without exfoliating, she gets ingrown hairs.

That dangerous train of logic is what compelled her to take an ‘everything shower’, listening to music while she pampered her skin and ridded herself of all body hair. For Reid of all people too, to add insult to injury. He probably wouldn’t even appreciate it, not that she’d give him the chance to appreciate your silky-smooth legs, but still. Some acknowledgements of her immense efforts wouldn’t go amiss.

She stepped out of the shower and slathered herself in vanilla-scented lotion, before dressing into a simple pyjama set consisting of loose (but very short), plaid shorts and a black tank top. The doorbell rang just as she slid her feet into her slippers. Checking the clock, she rolled her eyes when she realised it had been almost exactly one hour since his last text, the punctual motherfucker.

She shuffled to the door and looked through the peephole to make sure it was actually Reid, snorting at the way the lens disfigured his face in a bizarre perspective, before letting him in. “Reid,” she greeted, as neutrally as she could when she wanted to tear into the pizza box that he was holding. It wasn’t lost on her that it was from her favourite local place.

“Y/L/N,” he responded in much the same tone, stepping in and slipping his shoes off and revealing a mismatched pair of truly bizarre socks, setting them on the shoe-rack beside the door. He’d known her for long enough to know she absolutely did not tolerate shoes inside her home, and she tried not to feel fond.

“That pepperoni?” she asked, jerking her head towards the pizza box.

“Obviously,” he said, shooting her a distinct look of irritation, like she’d asked a stupid question. “Hey, I don’t know your life,” she snapped. “You could be one of those freaks that like Hawaiian.”

“You know, it’s widely considered fact that the components of balanced flavour are ‘salt, acid and sugar’, so by that logic, a Hawaiian Pizza would-“

“Oh my God, you’ve been here less than five minutes and you’re already doing the thing,” she groaned, taking the pizza box from him and walking to the living area.

“What thing?” he asked, following behind her.

“The ‘uhm, actually’ thing!” she says, plopping down onto the couch and setting the box on the coffee table. He rolled his eyes again and sat down next to you, not deigning to respond.

Silence settled over the two of them.

Dying for anything to relieve the awkwardness, Y/N leaned over to grab a slice of pizza, aware of Reid’s eyes on her. She turned to shoot him a questioning look, but he didn’t meet her gaze and pointedly stared at the TV.

Fuck, his jaw was sharp, and his neck was an elegant arch.

An echo of his desperate whine ricocheted in her head for a moment as she stared at him.

Such a sweet noise from such sweet lips, pillowy and plush against hers. If a kiss was all it took to wring noises like that from him, she couldn’t help but be curious what noises he’d make if she put her hands places that weren’t his hair...

When he swallowed and cleared his throat, she snapped out of her stupor and chewed on her slice, turning back to the TV.

Half an hour later, neither of them had said anything. At some point, Y/N had taken the half-eaten pizza into the kitchen, and bought back a bottle of water for Spencer, who nodded in gratitude, but the awkward silence remained.

They snuck glances at each other, but it became apparent they didn’t know how to be civil with one another.

“So,” Y/N started clumsily. “You done anything interesting on your leave? “I- uh-“ he cleared his throat “-Re-read some of my favourite works in their original languages, I wanted to see if they held any nuances that got lost in their translation.” “Interesting,” Y/N said. “I imagine that killed time for about a day.”

“Yeah, it didn’t take long,” Reid laughed quietly. “I’ve spent the rest of the time writing to my mother and watching Doctor Who.” “It’s a good show. Tennant is the superior Doctor.” “Naturally,” Reid agreed, shockingly enough. “Although I’m partial to Eccleston for nostalgic reasons.”

“Who’s your favourite sidekick?” “Donna Noble,” he replied. “I think she had the most character, and her personality complimented The Doctor well.” “I thought Martha was cool, too,” Y/N said. “Even though she was obviously just a rebound for The Doctor to try to get over Rose.” “Some of my favourite episodes are from when Martha was on the show,” he told her and she smiled, smally at him.

“Really?” “Yeah! ‘The Waters of Mars’ was incredible!” Y/N felt her heart flutter at the way his eyes lit up and his mouth broke into a wide grin, deciding to ignore it. “Oh, God, that’s the one where the water’s poisoned and makes the people at the station into- like- zombies, right?” Y/N asked, twisting around in her seat to face him properly. “That freaked me out. Like the one in the library.”

“Where River Song is first introduced?”

The conversation flowed with an ease that was unfamiliar to them after that, and it turned out they had a lot more in common than either of them thought.

It wasn’t long before they were sifting through Y/N’s streaming service subscription, settling on a horror movie they were both fond of.

The Fly.

“You know, even with the clunky visual effects, this movie is still incredible,” Reid commented quietly, not looking away from the screen.

“Probably because it’s a romantic tragedy more than a horror movie,” Y/N said. “It doesn’t need to rely on visuals, the story-telling does most of the heavy lifting.” She turned to him. “Although the ‘clunky visual effects’ are better than some CGI I’ve seen recently.” Reid laughed at that and nodded. “Yeah, I can’t argue with that,” he said.

This was too weird, and it was making Y/N itch. It was making Y/N come closer to giving in to the urge to press her mouth to his.

“Shocking,” she said, drily, trying to shift their dynamic to what it normally was. “You usually contradict me every chance you get.” Reid stopped laughing and cast her a side-ways glance.

“I’m simply correcting you,” he said.

“My asshole you are,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “And don’t start with the whole ‘people who curse are less intelligent’ shit, or I will throw you out, pizza and all.” “And to think we managed to have several civil conversations,” he groaned, taking a sip of his water and rolling his eyes. “Well, it was nice while it lasted.” “I’m being perfectly civil,” Y/N said, knowing full-well that she wasn’t. “Just admit that you get off on proving to everyone that you’re smarter than them.” “You have no idea what I get off on,” he snapped, turning to her. When their eyes met, time stilled for a moment.

She’d never noticed before how his deep, brown eyes flashed gold in the light.

“What do you get off on then?”

The question had escaped her lips without her permission, and she abruptly snapped it closed as they looked at each other with wide eyes.

“What?” he asked wearing a look of pure shock, like he didn’t even believe he’d heard her correctly.

“Nothing!” she practically squawked, looking away from him and ignoring the feeling of her cheeks heating up.

“Did you just ask me what I get off on?” he choked out, looking incredulously at you as you awkwardly looked at him, looking away again immediately.

“Pfffft, no,” you lied, stupid as he’d clearly heard her.

“You totally did!”

“Okay, so maybe I did,” she admitted. “It kinda just slipped out, I don’t actually wanna know.” “Don’t you?” he asked, voice dropping into a husky tone she didn’t know he was capable of.

She gaped at him, not even knowing what to say. “I-“

“I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me since we kissed,” he told her, leaning forward. “Your eyes keeping dropping to my lips, and your pupils dilate when they do.” He leaned in closer to her. “You also keep absentmindedly biting, licking and playing with your lower lip when you look at me.” “…So?” she asked, not denying it. They both know he was too good a profiler to lie to, especially about something he’d observed himself.

“So, you can’t stop thinking about it,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “And you want to do it again.” When she didn’t say anything, he moved closer to her, so close, in fact, that they could feel each other’s breath puffing onto their faces.

“Do you want to know why I really asked you if I could come over tonight?” he asked, lips so close to hers it was agony.

“Why?” she asked breathlessly.

“Because I want that, too.” She gave in.

With both of her hands on his cheeks, she dragged him the extra inch forward and slotted her mouth against his, swallowing down a keen that threatened to bubble out at the contact. His long, deft fingers gripped her waist and pulled her closer to him, and she followed his pull as elegantly as she could to land in his lap.

Immediately, and like she’d been wishing she could do for a long month, she sunk her fingers back into those brown curls and tugged. The soft noise he made against her lips was hardly the high-pitched whine that had haunted her, but it was enough to make her double her efforts, pressing her body against his and kissing him with poorly hidden aggression. He matched her sudden ferocity, sliding his hands around to her ass and squeezing hard enough to have her breath stuttering out of her chest. When he chuckled against her mouth, she bit down on his lower lip, just a quick tug in between her teeth, but it was enough to make him gasp, and she took that as her opportunity to pull his head back by his hair and look down at him.

Eyes blown out, cheeks flushed pink and his lower lip already kiss-swollen, he already looked like a mess.

“God, I want to fucking ruin you,” she hissed, grinding down over his hips and grinning wickedly at the firmness she felt against her. He whined, his eyes flicking upwards momentarily before he refocused on her face. “Please do,” he gasped, rocking his hips up against her, gripping her ass again.

“Already begging?” she teased. He glared at her, but it was hollow, before he reached up to grab the back of her neck and drag her to his lips again.

When their lips crushed against each other’s, Y/N’s hands immediately started to rip at Reid’s shirt, almost ripping the buttons off in her haste to get it off him. He whined into her mouth at her aggression, reluctantly taking his hands off her to slide the sleeves of his button up off his arms, leaving his chest bare to her. She raked her nails down his chest, trails of pink following her fingertips, and he arched into her with a sweet keen. She pinched his nipple with one hand, and he gasped. Taking his surprise as an opportunity, she slid her mouth across his jaw to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, pausing to bite and suck at the sensitive juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“Oh!” Reid moaned, thrusting his hips against her particularly hard at the overwhelming sensation. “Oh, God, Y/N, please.”

“Please what?” she taunted, continuing to leave marks on his neck, and continuing to tease his chest. She ground her hips against him far more firmly, speeding up her steady rhythm. “I don’t- I- Oh!” he struggled, breaking off into a whimper before he could get the words out.

“If I knew that this was all it took to get you to shut up, I’d have done it sooner,” she said, laughing cruelly when he glared at her. Still choking out a chain of whimpers and whines, he slid his hands up her tank top, cupping her breasts, long, deft fingers pinching her nipples harshly in retaliation. She squeaked, shocked, turning to him with her own glare. He gave her a paradoxically shy little smirk, proud of himself, and it infuriated her.

When she pushed herself backwards, down his legs and away from the bulge in his pants, he whined in protest. She pulled his zipper open, shoving the soft fabric of his boxers to pull his cock out, hot and heavy in her palm; it was bigger that she thought it would be, definitely bigger than average, and delightfully thick.  “Oh, God, what are you going to do with me?” he asked, voice breathless and desperate as he tried to buck into her hand, whining when her weight on his lap meant he couldn’t drive up enough to get any real friction.

“I’m gonna use you,” she told him, stroking his cock deliberately slow, squeezing around his sensitive head.

“Oh, fuck!”

“Until you can’t even think anymore.”

Nodding enthusiastically and gripping her hips, he tried to drag her back towards him, but she tsk’d. She placed a hand on his chest to push him onto the couch and used the leverage to stand up. Slowly, she began to push the waistband of her shorts down, the way he stared at the movement as though hypnotised flooded her brain with a heady feeling of power. “Reid?” she cooed, and it looked like it took a tremendous amount of effort for him to drag his eyes from her hips to her face.

“Ye-yeah?” he stuttered out, almost absentmindedly reaching for his cock and fisting himself in a loose grip. She bit her lip as she watched the tentative movement. “Do you have any condoms?” she asked, hoping to God he said yes. The hope was foiled when he looked at her with an expression of panic.

“No, shit, no, I don’t,” he huffed, and she could see him calling himself an idiot in his own head.

“Fuck it, I’m clean and on birth control,” she said. “Are you-?”

“Yes, I’m clean, Y/N,” he said, a pleading look on his face. “God, I’ve been thinking about this for a whole month, please don’t make me wait.” Ordinarily, she’d tease him, but seeing as she had felt exactly the same way, she finished sliding her shorts down her legs, leaving them on the floor as she straddled him once again. She pushed her hips down on his, grinding her wet pussy over the throbbing heat of his cock and they both gasped. “Please, don’t tease,” he begged, looking up at her with the saddest puppy dog eyes. “Just fuck me, oh my God, please.”

“Eager,” she teased and slapped her ass in retaliation, making her yelp and jolt forward, making her wetness slide over his cock once again. She started grinding down deliberately hard to get back at him.

He threw his head back and gasped, and she took that as a chance to start sucking and nibbling on the column of his throat.

It didn’t take long before he was whining in that sweet, sweet way that made her head spin. “Please!” he whimpered desperately, pushing his hips up to meet her movements, and she relented. Pulling away from his neck, she lifted herself up before sinking down on his cock.

“Fuck!” “Oh, God!”

He was fully inside of her, stretching her out in a dull ache as her adjusted to him. “Fuck, you’re so big,” she mumble, gently starting to rock as the ache lessened. He didn’t respond, and the glazed look in his eyes made her question if he’d even heard her. He grabbed her ass, kneading the firm flesh in a way she thoroughly appreciated.

Slowly, she started bouncing, and he screwed his eyes shut, whimpering quietly at the almost overwhelming feeling of her hot, wet pussy squeezing him. “You feel like heaven,” he whispered, jaw going slack as she started moving faster.

It didn’t take long before they we both panting, flushed and desperate as the moved against each other. At some point, Reid had wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck, licking and sucking and biting wherever he could reach.

Y/N sunk her hands into his hair, gripping it tightly to keep him there as the brutal pace she had set brought her closer to the edge. The way he was practically sobbing into her neck told her he was close, too.

“Reid,” she panted, pulling his head away from her neck by his hair. He looked up at her, flushed cheeks and mouth hanging open, eyebrows hitched and eyes watery. He looked so fucked out she couldn’t help the pride that rushed through her. “Are you close, baby?” she asked him with a cruel smirk, and he nodded pathetically, crying out when she gripped his hair tighter to cease the movement.

“Please,” he begged. “I’m so close!” “Don’t you dare cum before I do,” she hissed, leaning back a little so the hand that wasn’t in his hair could rub her clit.

“I’m trying, I’m trying, but you feel so good! Ah, ah, please cum, please cum, please cum!”

His begging, desperate and needy, pushed her over the edge, her fingers on her clit and his cock filling her up as she toppled over the precipice of her orgasm. She cried out his name as her walls shuddered around him, dragging him over too. He cried out, louder than he had before as his orgasm wreaked havoc on his body, his legs shaking and tears finally dropping onto his cheeks. He babbled an incoherent stream of pleas as oversensitivity kicked in, crying that it was too much as she rode her own orgasm.

Her bouncing slowed to a still and she fell against him, both breathing heavily and flushed.

It took several minutes for both to catch their breath, and for coherent thought to be functional again.

Y/N hurried into the bathroom to clean herself up and tried to not spiral into panic; not only had she has sex with a coworker and totally violated the fraternisation policies at the bureau she’d had sex with Reid. Worse, she realised she didn’t regret it. She should, but she doesn’t, and she has never believed in being guilty about things that don’t warrant guilt.

She supposed it was harmless, really. Honestly, if they had this new way of working out their animosity towards each other, they’d probably be more pleasant to be around.

So, really, fucking him was for the good of the team.

Yeah, I’m totally doing it for the team, she told herself as she finished cleaning herself up.

When she left the bathroom and returned to the living room, his shirt was back on his body and his cock was tucked back into his pants. He was sitting there looking so awkward it was painful, and he didn’t look at her when she sat beside him.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly, and she sighed. “No, we shouldn’t have,” she agreed. He nodded, eyes not moving from his hands where they were folded in his lap. “So, what now?” he asked.

“I have condoms in my dresser,” she offered, laughing when his head shot up and he looked at her so incredulous it would have been offensive if it wasn’t so funny. “You don’t want to do it again?” “No, no, I do,” he rushed out with pinkening cheeks. “I just didn’t think that you’d want to! “Well, I do,” she said matter-of-factly before standing up and walking towards the bedroom. When he didn’t immediately follow, she turned around with a raised eyebrow. “Are you coming or not?” she asked.

Reid had quite possibly never moved so fast in his life as he followed her giggles to her bedroom.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

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.

[andreal831]

Do you see Klaus as an unreliable narrator in TO?

1000% yes.

He's a textbook narcissist so we have to remember everything he says comes from a place of being unable to look outside himself or to empathize with others. Which makes the entire narration of TO unreliable.

One example I can think of is when Elijah and Klaus are talking about Tatia (Elijah is also an unreliable narrator because he centers everything on Klaus. In my opinion due to guilt). We hear, and in TO see, how much Elijah cares for Tatia. But not really Klaus. We hear him and Elijah say Klaus loved Tatia, however, in the scenes in TO, Klaus essentially assaults Tatia by kissing her without even being concerned if she wants him to. Even when she pulls away from him, he just moves on. This isn't the actions of someone who is in love. And then when we see Tatia and Elijah interact, there is clearly some history. They have an ongoing flirtation. Yet, when Elijah and Klaus tell the story, it essentially focuses on their brotherly bond and less on Tatia. We don't hear how devastated Elijah was from her death, but how loving Tatia nearly broke their bond apart. Even when Elijah learns he was responsible for Tatia's death, instead of allowing him to feel that pain and grieve, he has to apologize to Klaus (and also deal with Klaus murdering his own father). Klaus doesn't react the way he did when he learned of what Elijah did to Aurora because he truly didn't care about Tatia. But he continues to push the narrative to center Elijah's past love interest around himself.

We see him do the same with Stefan in TVD, to the point where a large majority of the fandom believes Stefan and Klaus were romantically invovled despite being explicitly told that Rebekah and Stefan were invovled at the time. I'm not saying yes or no to either, but pointing out how the narrative impacts the viewers.

We also see this with how little emphasis the show puts on anyone that is not directly related to Klaus. Klaus is not the sole narrator of the show, but we can safely say it revolves around him. So characters like Aya, Celeste, Gia, Emil, etc. Their flashbacks are quick and just serve to explain how they know the Mikaelsons. Whereas, Klaus' love interest in the past, Aurora, gets exposition and depth through flashbacks.

The narration is told in a way that continues to victimize Klaus and brush aside his crimes. For example, when he lets Cami into his head to "scare her" and show her what a beast he is. He could show her endless slaughters, and that's just in the past year. He could show himself sacrificing a teenage girl or killing Jenna, stabbing his siblings, killing his mother, etc. But instead he shows himself turning for the first time and his family chaining him up to suppress his werewolf side. He doesn't even show the plethora of village people he just murdered which even scared Elijah. He only shows her what will create sympathy for him. We see this throughout their "talks." Even Cami calls him out on it multiple times for phrasing the story in a way that undermines how his siblings were feeling.

Contrast this to how Elijah's story is told. We already talked about Tatia and a lot of his exes. They are either explained very quickly and then moved on without allowing him/the audience time to grieve, or he they are handled through Klaus' POV so that their death's are justified/excused. But more than that, simply how his backstory is told, or Kol for that matter, is done in a less sympathetic light than Klaus.

We don't really see Elijah feed from people or murder without cause. That is up until the show decided to introduce the Red Door. This entire storyline is used to retcon Elijah as "the worse brother." But lets be honest, they've all killed so many people, why is Elijah killing seen as worse? Because they make it scary and bloody and it scares even the main characters. Whereas Klaus' trial is made to be humorous. The audience is supposed to laugh at Klaus forcing a girl to watch her mother burn alive because she was coughing too much. Even Klaus killing main characters like Carol are made to be humorous. They make Kol seem like this unhinged killer, but Klaus is the one who goes off and kills with him. When Kol does it, it's out of control. When Klaus does it, it's funny so their lives don't matter.

We see this with how the show treats Rebekah and her suitors. Rebekah is seen as naive because she keeps falling for the wrong people who take advantage of her. But Klaus is seen as compelling when he allows Caroline to manipulate him, to the point that it gets his brother killed. Or Aurora manipulate him to the point that it gets Rebekah kidnaped. Or Genevieve manipulate him to the point it gets Hayley killed and almost Hope. But when Klaus is manipulated, it's because he cares too much and the women took advantage of him. When it happens to Rebekah, it's because she's stupid and needs Klaus to make her decisions.

We see it in how Cami's transition is told. Cami is struggling throughout Season 3 but all Klaus sees is himself. To the point that when Cami snaps at him for pushing too far, the next scene is him killing a random art critic, essentially implying that it was her fault. She shouldn't have prioritized her own emotions and snapped at a grown man because he can't be responsible for his own actions.

TO thrives on Klaus being an unreliable narrator because it allows his misdeeds to be pushed to the back of the audience's mind and his victimization brought to the front. Even how he speaks about himself is unreliable. Initially, he blames Mikael for making him a monster. But then he learns his mother made him weak and blames her. But then he later blames Elijah for what he did to Aurora a year later. And throughout the show he blames all of his siblings for "abandoning" him when we never see a moment of them attempting to abandon him. Yes, I'm sure all of these things contributed, but the main point is that at no point does he blame himself. He never once takes accountability for his actions and no one ever makes him. Elijah and Rebekah attempt to several times, and lord knows Cami tried, but they are seen as unsympathetic in those moments through Klaus' eyes.

Thanks for the ask! I answered this one so quickly because I don't think I've talked about this individually and it is so fascinating to me. Let me know if you agree or disagree <3

[buttercandy16]

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."

[dreamermonica]

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)

[rise-my-angel]

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.

[stari-hun]

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.

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

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)

[kurishiri]

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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[chthonia27]

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.”

[fan-goddess]

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..."

[natureboy96]

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.