#one option was to just go back home and be done with this silly little adventure and go back to living a normal life as a person | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thyme-in-a-bubble · 4 months ago

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pop that cherry

a/n: woop woop! here's the little slutty story that you guys voted for when i asked what you wanted to see happen next in this au ৎ୭

summary: “hey, I get it,” he flashed you a comforting smile, “I’m a complete stranger. You just shook my hand two seconds ago and now we’re expected to bang in front of a bunch of other people you also don’t know,” his broad thumb swept over your knuckles, “you just have to decide if you wanna pack up your things, go home and chalk this up to just a fun experience, a lesson learned about what corners your sexuality and such does and does not stretch to,” he uttered with sincerity, “or you can come back inside and we can make some magic happen. It’s up to you.”

warnings: camgirl!reader x various, pornstar!ari levinson, roommate!bucky barnes, porn director!bruce banner, smut, porn au, college au, reader’s porn name is cherry blossom (UrLittleCherry), filming pornography, reader's first time doing professional porn, kissing, masturbation, toys, oral, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, size kink (pornstar!ari is famous for his monster cock, you're welcome), belly bulge, manhandling, multiple orgasms, squirting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, facial

word count: 3832

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

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Curled up and melted on your mattress, you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. Your puffy pussy, hidden between your still trembling thighs, clenched in dull soreness from the fuck machine frozen by your feet and still glistening from the show you’d put on only moments earlier.

“Hey, pretty girl,” a familiar voice emanated from your doorway, “I didn’t know you were done streaming.”

Lazily blinking up at Bucky as he leaned against the frame, “yeah, just signed off a few minutes ago,” you exhaled, “did you just get home?” the question flowed from your lips and he swiftly nodded in confirmation, “how was class?”

“Oh my god, don’t get me started,” your roommate let out a groan and pushed himself off the wall, his stride swiftly carrying him the short distance to where you laid and plopped himself down beside you.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you felt him press a slow peck to your exposed shoulder.

“Do you need help lifting the toy back in the closet or–,” Bucky’s kind offer was then cut short by the shuttering gasp that suddenly crawled out of your lungs.

“Oh my god,” your eyes grew to the size of saucers as you stared down at the message you’d opened on your phone, “oh my god!”

“What? What is it?” he propped himself up on a forearm to peek over your shoulder.

“I–…” your eyes scanned the email wildly, “this can’t be real, right?” you cast a glance back at your friend.

“Let me have a look,” and you swiftly handed him your phone before hearing him skim through it, “dear miss Cherry Blossom, bla, bla, bla… we here at Smash Studios really love your vibe and were wondering if you would ever consider doing professional pornography, because if so, then we would love to work with you,” his blue eyes flickered a moment longer over the screen before they fluttered up to meet yours, “no, I think it’s legit.”

“Holy shit…” you breathed, an airy giggle then bubbled out of you as this was quite the news to take in, even when one wasn’t still hazy from haven fucked one silly in front of hundreds of people.

“You think you wanna do it?”

“Beautiful, gorgeous! And look right here, up there, yeah, that’s it…”

Sharp clicks shuttered the camera and shot throughout the massive house as a photographer snapped the last of the stills for the shoot. You were posed perched and kneeling on a bed with your right hand buried in the already tiny crop top, you’d brought as one of the outfit options, and held up high to reveal your tits.

The groan of floorboards creaking then found your ears and your gaze swiftly fluttered towards the door where the salt-and-pepper-haired man, who you’d come to learn was the head of the little porn studio, crossed over the threshold.

“How are we doing in here?” Bruce adjusted his glasses before stepping further into the room.

“I think we’re about done,” the photographer lowered the camera from his eye and cast a glance to his boss, “think we got the shot.”

“Great,” Bruce clapped his shoulder as the other man passed by and exited the room. As you tugged the short t-shirt back down into place, you met Bruce’s gaze before he asked you, “how are you doing? You ready?”

Though your mind was way too preoccupied to offer him an answer and instead blurted, “has he arrived?” as you scooted off the bed and felt the tiny shorts you wore ride up enough for your grasp to float down to adjust.

“Not yet, I’m sorry,” he tilted his head, “trust me when I say that he isn’t usually this late. He wouldn’t have the stellar reputation he does if he was. But we can still begin without him and just fix it in post if you’re–”

Someone then poked their head and announced, “hey Banner? He’s here. I just spotted his bike roll up the driveway.”

Feeling your heart thump in your chest, you heard Bruce clap his palms together, “great!” before you followed him out of the bedroom and through the pristine halls of the rented modern mansion.

Just before your bare feet began to conquer the long staircase, your absentminded grip tightened on the glass railing as you looked down at the open living room, clearly visible from the wide balcony, and spotted the figure that then sauntered in.

“So sorry I’m late, traffic was literal hell.”

Ari Levinson.

With sun-kissed brunette locks flowing from his head and a motorcycle helmet nuzzled under his burly arm, the infamous pornstar was not only blessed with a smile that could make anyone swoon, but also a dick so huge that any sane person would be downright terrified by the idea of having it split them apart.

Though that wasn’t what had stopped you in your tracks, what had made your palms embarrassingly clammy when he soon shook one of them once you’d somehow made your way down the stairs.

Why did your very first partner have to be someone you’d obsessively been getting off to for years?

You were barely listening to what the people around you were saying as you couldn’t rip yourself out of the trance you’d snapped into.

“I’m sorry, what?” you soon blinked, trying to avert your gaze.

“I asked if you were ready,” Bruce patiently repeated.

“…for?” you breathed, feeling as if you were inside of a giant ethereal cheese bell, making the entire world around you seem blurry.

“For the shoot,” Bruce’s words still flew straight over your head, “I said that I was thinking that I’d do the filming myself, if that could make you more comfortable since you’ve already met me. That way it’ll just be me, the two of you and then Sam in the corner doing audio.”

“O-okay…” you said quietly, feeling your cheeks heat up as Ari let his gaze linger over you, an observant brow soon twitching as he spoke up.

“Wait, actually,” he placed a palm on Bruce’s forearm, halting him as he reached for the bulky camera resting on the white couch, “do you mind if I grab a quick smoke break first?”

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, “let’s just all take five before we begin.”

It caught you completely off guard when the object of your distraction walked by you and paused to murmur in your ear, “come with me outside for a second, will you?”

Shadowing him all the way out of the tall glass door and onto the terrace, you watched him lean his frame against the fence and tilt his body for you to slot in beside him.

“I don’t actually smoke,” you uttered softly as you let your fingers ghost over the railing.

“Oh, neither do I–, or well, that’s not completely true, I do, just didn’t need one right now.”

“So then why did you ask for a smoke break?” you cocked a brow.

Blowing out a swift breath, Ari then twisted to face you more and gazed directly down at you.

“You mind if I hold your hand?” he held out his own palm.

“Oh, uhm,” your glance flickered down to his upturned hand before you carefully placed your own atop of it, “okay.”

His warm fingers swiftly engulfed your own as his stare stayed fast upon you.

“So, this is your first time, huh?”

“Oh, no, I'm not a virgin, I–”

“I meant porn, sweetheart,” he tilted his head to be more at your level.

“Right,” you averted your gaze as butterflies soared in your stomach, “yeah, I haven’t really done this before… I mean, I’ve some stuff, I’ve cammed for a pretty long time now and even recorded custom videos for some people, but no, I haven’t really taken this step before…”

You were staring down at his large hand engulfing yours as he then said, “you know, it’s okay if you don’t wanna go through with it. This field isn’t for everyone, in fact, only very few thrive in this environment, and if it’s not for you, then it’s okay.”

“Oh, no,” your eyes flickered up to find his as you urged, “I wanna do this, I really do. I’m sorry, I guess I just kinda got a bit more nervous than I expected.”

“Hey, I get it,” he flashed you a comforting smile, “I’m a complete stranger. You just shook my hand two seconds ago and now we’re expected to bang in front of a bunch of other people you also don’t know,” his broad thumb swept over your knuckles, “you just have to decide if you wanna pack up your things, go home and chalk this up to just a fun experience, a lesson learned about what corners your sexuality and such does and does not stretch to,” he uttered with sincerity, “or you can come back inside and we can make some magic happen. It’s up to you.”

“So, Cherry,” Bruce purred behind the camera as he knelt on the floor beside where you sat at the foot of the bed, “I can’t believe we finally convinced you to come have some fun with us. I gotta tell you, you are just a fucking dream come true…”

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled, kicking your feet slightly as they dangled over the edge.

“But you must get that all the time, I mean, look at you.”

“It has been known to happen on occasion,” you chuckled, thinking back to all of the lewd compliments the viewers of your streams generously tossed at you.

“So, a little birdy told me that this is your very first time fucking on camera. Is that true?”

“Yeah, it is,” you bit down on your bottom lip, “I’m so ready to pop that cherry.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” he smirked, panning the bulky camera over your frame as you tilted your head in a nod, “you’re just ready to show the whole world what a perfect slut you are?”

“Think it’s about time,” you giggled in response.

“Well, then why don’t you do something for me and stand up?” he shifted back a bit as you got up from the bed, “and now, I’ve already seen it, but can you please turn around and show everyone how fucking perfect your ass is?” a grin stayed fast on your face as you slowly spun around. Your butt was barely covered in the tiny shorts that clung around your hips, so when you twisted and let the camera catch that part of you, Bruce quietly groaned, “wow…” and he shifted his grip to let one of his hands float up towards you, “can I touch you?”

“Sure,” you arched your back a bit to make his palm’s journey that much shorter.

“Damn… this has got to be one of the greatest booties I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he offered your softness a brief squeeze. His fingers first dented one cheek, then the next, before his grip caught your waistband and tugged your shorts up just a tad bit more, making the fabric momentarily rub against your covered pussy.

His flat palm then scooped around your hips and guided you back to face the camera.

“Do you wanna see my boobs?” you smiled as you blinked down at him with big doe eyes, your hands gently grazing over the hem of your crop top.

“Oh, yes, please,” he virtually begged as he let his warm palm stay glued to your waist.

Peeking down, you slowly lifted the shirt up and let your tits quite literally spill out as they jiggled slightly from the release of how fiercely you let the cotton graze over your skin.

“Jesus christ…” you heard him utter as your palms fluttered down to play with them, squeezing the soft peaks gently before Bruce’s fingers sneaked up to pinch one of your nipples.

Once you’d put on a show and pushed the tiny shorts down your legs, the crotch of which had been slightly soaked since you weren’t wearing any panties underneath, you rested back down on the bed and spread your legs wide for the camera, grinning as the older man asked you to play with yourself.

“Oh my god… I gotta tell you, I am so hard right now,” you watched how intently he stared at the small monitor, getting a closeup of how your fingers rubbed your little clit, “you have no idea how tough it is not to just fuck you right now, it’s crazy…”

“Oh yeah?” you giggled, the melody of your want echoing throughout the room at every teasing touch you offered yourself, “how bad do you wanna fuck me?”

“So fucking bad…” he uttered in a nearly hypnotise tone.

Continuing to circle your puffy pearl, your fingers briefly dipped down to tease your entrance, only shyly slipping inside before you swept back up.

“You know what?” Bruce said as he then began to twist a bit to get the open door to the room into frame, “I have a little surprise for you,” and perfectly on queue, Ari appeared at the threshold, burly chest on show with just a pair of jeans hanging low on his hips.

His stride was slow as he only stayed in the doorway a moment before sauntering over to where you sat, melted back and resting against the one forearm that propped you up.

“Hey,” he smiled and plucked up your face as soon as it was within reach.

“Hi,” you managed to utter just before he bent down and pressed his lips to yours in an unhurried and gentle kiss.

He kissed you as if he had all the time in the world, like some dude wasn’t pressing a bulky camera closer to the intimate act, but like he was the lead in a PG romcom.

When Ari withdrew, he let himself linger in your warmth, ever so slightly nuzzling his nose against your own as your fingers kept up the dizzying pattern you drew between your parted thighs. Tilting his head, his touch traced the length of your arm till his reach came down to aid your efforts, making you gasp from the way he caressed you.

“You,” he nudged his nose gently against your own, “look like you’re in need of some cock in that little mouth of yours.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, you said, “you read my mind,” before popping the button of his jeans and tugging the zipper down. Even though you’d seen his famed cock numerous times on screen before, it truly was something else to witness it in person. A breathy, “holy shit,” left your lips as you tried to wrap your fingers around his girth, though he only let out a soft laugh at the way your eyes grew wide.

Ceasing the caress he drew between your thighs, he instead grabbed the base of his heavy length with his fingers still glossy from your arousal. As you stuck out your flat tongue, he tapped the weight against you for a second before you tilted your chin and wrapped your lips around the bulbous head.

As you disappeared into the meditative motion of slobbering all over his cock, gradually taking more and more of his intimidating length, your frame twisted to lay on your side and face him more.

Blinking up into his hooded eyes as the corners of your lips burned from the severe stretch, you felt his hips begin to move, rolling to meet your every bob, till his fingers tangled in your hair and he got to take over completely, fucking your face till slobber dribbled down your chest and rained down on your crop top, still tugged up and framing your tits.

His free hand then snaked its way back down your body and cracked your legs open wide for the camera to see as he plugged your pussy up with two of his fingers, making you moan around his girth as the tip of him bruised your throat.

When he yanked your mouth off of his cock, he did so with a gravelly growl, like he could have lived in your silky warmth and it pained him to say goodbye so soon.

“Come here,” he grabbed you and flipped you around for your frame to face him as his feet stayed planted on the side of the bed. Kicking his jeans the rest of the way off, you panted up at him as you scooted even closer, nearly letting your butt hang off the mattress’ edge as you laid already crumbled and folded before him, utterly bewitched by the anticipation of what his legendary size must feel like stretching your poor pussy out.

Shimmery spiderwebs of your nectar clung to him as he then let you feel the weight of him tap against your puffy pearl, briefly skimming through your folds before he found your eyes and tipped down, nudging to catch your weeping entrance.

“Oh my g-god…” you gasped, all of the air escaping your body to accommodate as he slowly pressed just the tip inside. Your cunt clung around his dick as he gave you a second to catch your breath. Your pulse throbbed in your pussy as your silky walls moulded around him and your thighs gently trembled from the intensity of it all.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he gave you another inch, “you feel so good,” gently stuffing more of his length inside.

His grip dented your trembling thighs as he held you open for the camera to see how you struggled to take his cock. Even when the tip of him kissed your cervix and made you feel as if he was all the way up in your fucking throat, when you hazily gazed down to see where he split you apart, there was still a generous inch of him that your little pussy just couldn’t take.

As your eyes lingered a little longer, you too caught sight of how a dull bulge formed in the lower part of your belly, perfectly timed with each of his mind-numbing thrusts.

When you then tumbled over the edge, nearly blind from the overwhelming pleasure, your pussy couldn’t help but accidentally gush around Ari’s girth, simply because of how mind-boggling he felt.

“Oh, shit,” you panted. Still in your orgasmic daze, you swiftly cast a worried glance up at Bruce steady behind the camera, “I’m sorry,” you briefly broke the scene as Ari too paused his movements as you breathlessly spoke, “I really tried not to squirt, I know that wasn’t part of today’s plan, but–, fuck…” your eyes fluttered up to find Ari’s, “your dick’s just so goddamn big,” you hazily giggled.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Bruce’s voice washed over you as you watched a smile tug at Ari’s lips, “that was just an unplanned bonus.”

“Wait, so you’re not mad?” your neck twisted to cast a glance at the director.

“No,” he swiftly shook his head and flashed you a reassuring smile to calm the obvious anxiety that had bubbled up inside of you.

“Oh, good,” you let out a sigh, “sorry, I just got nervous for a second. Okay, alright, we can keep going.”

“You good?” Ari checked before he cracked out of his frozen form.

“Yep, yep, I’m okay, I’m wonderful,” you chuckled and let the last bit of nerves wash away.

“Alright,” he dipped down to press a soft kiss to your lips, before his hands guided your arms around his neck, slinking them around him.

His grasp then scooped down under you and he effortlessly plucked you up off the bed, a shy yelp bubbling up from your lungs as he picked your frame up to cradle you in his arms, his massive cock still lodged inside of you, though when he settled you in his strong hold, it felt as if he found a mystical way to slide even deeper.

Moans flowed from your lips and vibrated against his skin as your neck soon gave up and lent your cheek to smoosh against his fuzzy chest.

“There you go,” he stood up tall and bounced you in his arms like you were a toy, just a cocksleeve for him to get off with, “there you fucking go…”

As he picked up the pace and truly gave you a taste of how a real pornstar pounded a pussy for the camera, your eyes screwed shut tight and you felt yourself float away on a cloud, curled up in Ari’s burly arms and surrounded in a storm of your collective moans. The existence of the video camera even faded from your reality as you peeled your eyes open and peeked up at Ari from the pillow of his pec, knowing full well that he too could feel how you began to clench around his cock once more.

“You gonna cum again?” he repeatedly lifted you up and down on his fat girth, “you gonna be a good girl and cream all over my cock, huh?”

Blinking up at him, your brows crinkled in pleasure as you nodded, “uh-huh.”

“You think you can squirt again for me?” his grip dug into the plush of your ass hard enough for it to leave marks.

“I-I don’t know–”

“Oh, I think you can,” he switched up his pattern, slowing down slightly and dragging you all the way up till his cock nearly slipped out of you, only to sink you back down in such a rough, yet intensely slow manner, that it made your eyes roll in your skull, “just listen to that,” he smirked at the soft sloshing sound that sinfully echoed as his fat girth repeatedly slid against your g-spot, virtually bullying it till you surrendered, “it’s like she’s begging me to just spend the rest of the day making her gush over and over again until you fucking pass out…”

A shrill cry escaped your form as you let go once more, shaking in Ari’s grasp as Bruce knelt down to capture your sinful drizzle.

You nearly felt drunk, like you were hours into the best party of your life, when you eventually found yourself planted on the floor, quaking legs unsteady beneath you as you blinked up at Ari, looming above you and furiously fucking his fist.

“You want me to cum all over that pretty little face?” he grunted as you hazily stuck out your tongue.

“Yes,” the corners of your lips blissfully curled up into a grin, “please–”

Even though your bones had turned into jelly and your pussy clenched in soreness, the drawn-out moan that rumbled in Ari’s chest as hot ropes of his cum then shot out and painted your features sent tingles throughout your body and filled you with a desire to just wrestle him back down onto the mattress, hit rewind and do it all over again.

#lea’s writing #sugar and spice au #ari levinson smut #bucky barnes smut #ari levinson x reader #chris evans smut #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series #chris evans x reader #bruce banner smut #ari levinson au #ari levinson x you #ari levinson series #sebastian stan x reader #marvel smut #mcu smut

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charliemwrites · 1 year ago

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Awooooooo!

Content: Voyeurism, Dog Urination, Implied Non-Con Touching

Your dog is weird. Just.. just weird. Like, all dogs are weird. They have their quirks and their oddities, silly babies in fluffy bodies.

Johnny though…

He snuggles up in your bed every night; you don’t even bother trying to kick him out. He’s presses up tight against you, head almost on your pillow. Have to start sleeping in a shirt because one too many unfortunately placed cold nose bumps…. Yeah. But that’s fine. The fuzzy space heater is worth it.

(So what if you sort of wake up sometimes and half-dream its skin you’re snuggled up to. If you imagine a more human rasp to the quiet snores by your ear. If the tongue on your cheek is softer and smaller than you’re used to….

Your dating life has been dry for some time.)

Johnny pees in every room of your house at least once, but that’s not entirely surprising - he’s an intact male, after all. (Something you’re trying to, heh, fix. Though the appointment mysteriously keeps getting moved or cancelled.) thankfully, though, once he’s “marked his territory” he starts asking to go outside.

And that’s where the weirdness begins.

The first time you let him out off leash, he shoots off into the woods and only returns once he’s done. You panic, feel so stupid and irresponsible, near tears by the time he gets back. When he sees you upset, say on the porch steps, he darts to your side and leans into you until you calm down.

You stop worrying so much about his little “trips”. Means you dont have to clean up after him to keep the yard tidy after all.

The first time he bounds off into the woods and doesn’t come back after a few minutes, you almost go searching. But.., but well he’s a good boy. An hour later he comes back, scratching at the door.

You’re not sure what he’s up to and it makes you anxious. Don’t like the idea of an “outdoor” dog. All of yours have been in-home pets kept in sight at all times. You’re scared Johnny’s going to get hurt or bitten or hit by a car.

But he always comes back healthy whole.

One hour turns into two, then three. Entire mornings, only returning in the evening to climb into bed. Eventually a whole day. You have someone install a doggy door big enough for Johnny to slip through so that he can come and go as he pleases.

You get used to having a pet that’s only around sometimes, though you sniffle that you miss him when he’s gone. As if understanding, he’ll always lick at you, comforting.

The other weird thing - he demands to climb into bed while you’re doing “self care”. Again, dogs don’t get human social boundaries. He’s allowed on the bed so why is it that he wouldn’t be allowed up even if it’s not bedtime? It’s understandable dog logic, even if you have to stop the first several times it happens.

Keeping him out isn’t an option. Even if you manage to shut the bedroom door on him before he wriggles inside, he makes such a ruckus. Barking, howling, knocking over the trash and scratching at the door. You almost step directly into a puddle of pee once.

You just keep the lights off, close your eyes, and try to ignore the odd brush of fur or gust of air from his nose. Pretend he’s not there at all; and not staring the way he tends to.

Not getting off just isn’t an option. You make your peace with your dog too dumb to even turn away.

(You also learn very quickly to wash your toys as soon as you’re done. Can’t even wait to catch your breath. Calling him nasty makes his tail wag. You know it’s not reasonable to think he’s doing it on purpose.)

“Johnny, drop it!”

Instead of doing that, he drops his front half low, a lacy black pair of underwear in his teeth. He snatched it right out of your laundry basket while you were trying to start the washer.

“I’m going to turn you into a pair of boots. Put those down!”

Chasing a giant wolf-dog for your panties is ill-advised but what are you gonna do? Let him shred your underwear?

“I wanted to wear those out tonight, you bastard!”

You’re supposed to have a date. At this rate, you won’t even be able to shower, never mind get ready. Johnny’s been a nuisance all day, ever since you got off the phone with your mom this morning, updating her about your life and plans for the evening.

Determined, you give up and go to finish the laundry - only to hear a crash and a yelp. Johnny’s knocked over the mirror and stepped in the glass.

“Oh, baby boy,” you groan. “Dammit, John-Bon.”

You text your date for a rain check, then call ahead for the emergency vet. Huh… your first aid kit is much better stocked than you remember.

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hero-hoe · 9 months ago

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Owner!Ghost with dogboy!Soap who gets puppygirl!Reader as a gift.

MDNI. 18+ ONLY

Hybrid au. Kidnapping tw, naive!reader, Fem!reader, handjobs (m/m). Ghost and Soap are a little off. Sadomasochism tw

Ghost who's had Soap ever since retiring being discharged due to injury and thought "fuck it, I need something to keep me busy", so he gets himself a retired dogboy. Nothing wrong with 'im, they just tend to cycle hybrids out after a few years of use. Any longer and they go a little wrong in the head. Something about their genetics and how they could get too into their tasks and needed human handlers on the outside.

Ghost is pretty sure the one he got is a little messed up anyway. Fine by him, the man had done his fair share of awful things, too far beyond being considered a good man anymore. At least having the mutt gave him purpose again, he was losing his mind trying to fit back in with polite society on his own. Johnny was Price's idea to get Simon out of his house, to take care of himself instead of wasting away in a bare bones cabin in the countryside. Take the dog on walks and all that, get a membership at one of those expensive city gyms that let hybrids in so they could both keep up on their training.

Johnny would bark his ear off about his time in the military, causing messes he never had to clean up and getting paid for it. And he didn't push when Simon said nothing about his own experience. And then they settled into a decent enough routine, too intimate to just be hybrid and handler, but Ghost wasn't a man who liked labels. They were just Johnny and Simon, that's all that mattered.

He got a good dog. Sure, he was a bit off, but nothing that couldn't be handled. He barked a lot, hated strangers, refused to sleep anywhere but Simon's room after the first few nights. And he was energetic, always bouncing off the walls or chasing down random animals in the woods. If he brought back something to snack on, Simon never minded, so long as he clean his own mess. Ghost wasn't above rubbing the dog's nose in the blood and mud puddle left on the kitchen floor. Good thing Johnny learned the first time.

It'd been a few years, Ghost hadn't bothered to keep track, but his silly pup was getting restless. Only after the third time coming home to Johnny humping himself stupid in the toy he'd gotten, teeth sunk into the pillows, did Simon finally take him to the vet. Trying to handle the situation himself hadn't helped, and he didn't like seeing his boy so miserable, even if he looked beautiful because of it. Simon swore Johnny never looked better than when he was desperate and on their sheets, fucking into a silicone pussy like his life depended on it and whimpering into a slobber covered pillowcase.

Everything was normal, the vet said, a waste of £150. It's actually a good thing, they told him, means he's healthy and happy enough to breed and is having ruts. Gave him three options: have Johnny fixed, let the mutt handle it himself every time, or get him someone to play with. Simon was offended at the idea of getting his pup snipped, immediately shutting the thought down. But he couldn't keep watching Soap sob and beg, pleading for something Simon didn't have. He held Johnny in his arms each but after that, making sure to stroke his needy pup through every orgasm needed with a hand around his neck for stability.

Johnny was a good dog, Simon relented. Never once bit without being told and made sure to moan nice and loud whenever he was hit. He deserved a treat.

So Simon did his research, went to all the shelters and breeders and even searched the parks for a new treat for his boy. Nobody was good enough, he thought, until he found you. Soft, sweet, and so, so innocent. You didn't hesitate to take his hand when he offered you a treat and some ear scratches, wandering away from your old owner and right into his truck.

You ate the special biscuits he gave you and fell asleep with a dopey smile on your face, so happy when he told you he was gonna take you home and introduce you to his puppy.

Johnny was at the door like always, waiting on his knees at the time Simon said he'd be home. He was anxious and confused today, able to smell you from outside as soon as Ghost pulled up. You smelled so good, but he hated the idea of Simon bringing another dog home. Was he not enough? He'd been so good, why would his master need another pup?

"Settle, mutt." Simon huffed as soon as he heard Johnny's whine, the hybrid kneeling obediently at the door with his ears tucked back. "Stop the damn whining. Got you somethin'." He huffed, shifting you in his arms.

Johnny scooted closer, staying on the ground and sniffing at you cautiously. One of Ghost's massive hands laced into a well maintained mohawk, tugging tight until he calmed down. The pain grounded him, a reminder that Simon was there, that he wasn't being replaced. "Fer me?" Johnny asked, taking another deep inhale along the skin of your thigh where is dangled over Simon's arm.

Ghost hummed, the sound pulling another whine from Johnny's throat. "Smells s'good." He whispered, eyes dilating as he crawled closer. "She's pure bonnie, Sir."

Straddling Simon's boot, rutting mindlessly against his shin while taking in deep huffs of your skin, Johnny couldn't wait to play with you.

#cod x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #hybrid au #owner!ghost #cod drabble #soap drabble #ghost drabble

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caitified · 1 month ago

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kate x model?

model

kate martin x reader

warnings: jealously, i used them as the pronouns if i haven’t done this for other fics and you want me to switch i can! maybe a part 2 where they go to an event or something lmk

kate never expected herself to be the jealous type. she was grounded, confident in who she was, and knew she didn’t need anyone else’s validation. but dating you – with the world’s attention on you, people leaving adoring comments and celebrities tagging you in every other post – it brought out a side of her she hadn’t seen before. she had experienced some of this herself, but this was different.

she’d scroll through your posts sometimes, reading the comments that poured in after each new campaign, each runway shot, and couldn’t help feeling a tight knot in her chest. it was a mix of pride and something deeper, something almost possessive.

“can you blame them?” she muttered to herself, eyeing a recent photo dump you posted recently. but then she’d read comments like, “god, [y/n] is unreal. if i had a shot, i’d never let them go,” and it’d make her bite her lip, trying to shake off the small pang of jealousy creeping in.

she knew it was silly – she knew you loved her, had shown her countless times, but still… seeing the world fawn over you, knowing how much attention you attracted, it made her wonder if one day you’d realize just how many options you had.

one evening, after you wrapped a big photoshoot, you came home to find kate in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone. she quickly put it down when she heard you come in, flashing you a warm smile, but you noticed the slight tension in her shoulders.

“hey, you,” you said softly, crossing the room to wrap your arms around her from behind. “missed you today.”

she leaned back into your embrace, letting out a sigh as you kissed her neck. “missed you too.” her voice was soft, but you could sense something was on her mind.

“everything okay?” you asked gently, turning her around to face you. your eyes met hers, searching.

kate hesitated, then let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “yeah, it’s just… sometimes it’s weird, you know? seeing all those comments. all these people who think they know you, who say things like they… like they could just be with you.” she looked down, almost sheepish. “i know it’s stupid. i know i’m the one who gets to be with you, but sometimes… i don’t know. i just get a little jealous.”

you reached up, cupping her face, guiding her gaze back to yours. “kate, you have nothing to worry about,” you whispered, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “those people don’t know me like you do. they don’t know how much i love the way you make me laugh when no one’s around, or how you hold me when i’m stressed, or the way you look at me like i’m the only one in the room.”

she felt her cheeks warm, but her lips curled into a shy smile, the tension in her shoulders easing.

“besides,” you continued, your voice dropping as you leaned in close, lips barely grazing hers, “you’re the only one i want looking at me like that. you’re the only one who gets all of me, every piece.”

she let out a soft breath, her hands slipping to your waist, pulling you flush against her. “you have no idea what that does to me,” she murmured, her voice a bit huskier now. “i may not love sharing you with the world, but… you make it worth it.”

the intensity in her gaze sent shivers through you, and you melted into her as she kissed you deeply, her hands gripping you with a quiet need that told you everything she couldn’t put into words.

when you finally pulled back, her eyes were warm, but that fierce spark was still there. “you’re mine,” she murmured, almost to herself, as if to reaffirm it.

“always,” you whispered back, your fingers lacing with hers. you gave her hand a squeeze, grounding her in that quiet promise that she was the only one for you.

#kate martin x reader #kate martin #wnba x reader #wnba imagine #wbb x reader #wbb imagine #iowa wbb #lv aces #las vegas aces

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cookiepie111 · 5 months ago

Text

Bite me love me pt 2

Local Austrian man manages to woo and disgust a lady in 5 minutes

König x black reader

A/N: shame you just can't seem to shake that man off. A second part to bite me. Love me. Some time has passed in the story. Reader goes to watch a movie at königs house. Reblogs are appreciated. Smut. Not proofread

Tag list: @thatmusedhatter @himboelover @canyonswft13 @montenegroisr @kneelingshadowsalome @havikshoochiemama @wordstome @lanalafey

"Hey :)"

.... It's him again

"So what that guy who pulled out a knife out on your date??"

"Yeah. Then he won't stop messaging me, and pulled up at my house."

"Yeah.....he also bought you a coat. Which you're now wearing. To his house...."

It's time for your friend to mind her business...

" .... if I didn't go to his he'd just come to mine!"

Which isn't false he's done so multiple times since your first date. To give flowers, pick you or simply because he was bored. Maybe if you know where he lives it will give you a leg up on him?? Find some dirt on him. Something, anything!

♡

His place is nice. Way nicer than you could have thought, his city house seemed like the safer option. simple and clean, honestly, it looked like no one lived here, there's no pictures or trinkets. No items that could even tell you anything about say for the stack of cd's on the table. Old school. That's all you got.

"......."

"....."

you can't enjoy this movie. It feads in the background, while static plays in your head and tingles in the back of your eyes. The week's been a little bit too rough with you. There isn't a support network here like there is back home, no friends you run to, calling them just isn't the same. you need to talk and cry to someone. You need some comfort. You need to be held.

It's his thumb wiping away the tears from your eyes that brings you back. "What's wrong?" so wrapped up in your feelings, you forget how close he was, cradling your face in his hands as he inspects you. leaning down to get a closer look at you, blurry eyed mess

You can't help it , burst into tears hard, choosing to hide away in his shirt than face him. He holds you close to his chest, pulling you in, allowing you to take out your emotions on his chest. He's so warm.

"I-I've just ha - had a rough week. --Been really str-stressed. " it's hard to get the sentence out between hiccups it's silly. You couldn't even point a finger to any one thing that upset you. It just felt awful inside. Tight so wound up why bother telling him. But it wouldn't stop you kept crying.

His touch is spreading warthm all over you, from the hand that rubs your head to your back. To think he could be so gentle. That you'd fine solice in this man.

"It's okay. A rough week can be fixed. I will help you. I'll be here for you"

Oh, he's being so kind.

This is it ,This is the comfort you've been missing, feeling you've been craving. His body so warm and steady next to yours. This is-

"Having an orgasm will help you calm down and relax"

.....

UGHH!

And just like that, the spell is broken, veil lifted. This man is no longer comforting or sweet. The arm around no longer comforting, you quickly need his hands off you.

Yet His hand still remains.

The disgust in your eyes is apparent, too strong for him to brush off as he quickly moves to explain himself.

"Female or help realise endorphins and make you feel all happy. If I eat you out, it will make you all warm and fuzy inside. You can stop thinking for a bit-

[Cut the fucking cameras]

His rambling fades out as you stare blank eyed at this man. Is, is he really trying to justify why he should get to eat you out.... ugh oh gosh that's what you get for trusting this man. time to leave

"It's fine, just lie down it's fine." You're snaped out of thoughts by his hands, moving you to lie down.

"König!" He's wrestling you down before you can complain.

"Shh, sshh, it's fine, darling. I'll take those nasty thoughts away"

It happens a little bit too quickly, the tugging of your pants, discarding of your underwear before you know it he's staring at your bare pussy and suddenly realise how serious he is about this

"Wait könig-"

He doesn't waste any time, that's for certain. Fucking his tongue into you, he eats like he's been longing for this like this was the only moment for him. Feeding the deep ache in his stomach.

Your legs hurt, pulled so far apart over his shoulder, Somethings stiring deep in your stomach. it's hard to breathe... It's so hard to fight it, to not clench around the tongue working at you.

"Ahhhh"

The sounds he's pulling from you are embarrassing, too desperate to be yours. It sounds foreign to your ears.

It's hot in your belly, pleasure shooting around your brain. you're struggling to form a sentence, pushing his head further in you

"König!"

You'd never said his name like that before, so sweet and needy.It made him stop the words rolled in his head he licked his teeth coming up.

you whine a little. he looks so big. Seeing his face, the evidence of his hard work, your pleasure dripping down his face. It's so embarrassing.

He needs to hear it again, that desperate voice of yours crying his name. He can use his fingers on you, see your desperate face while you cry out his name. But no luck, you felt him everywhere, the fingers deep in you, the hand holding your shoulder down, lips on your neck. What a heavy burden this man is. You're nothing but a crying mess under him

He's right it did clear your head. you feel a lot better now

♡

He let's you catch you breath. Pulling you up to lie on his chest. Your brain feels fuzzy, mouth heavy and dry.

That feeling between your legs won't go away. The ache is still there. You can't look him in the eye it's too embarrassing can't voice what you want, just want him again. Tugging his arm to your legs

He hums and happily to oblige

[ könig in his diary tonight. I think she's warming up to me! :)]

#könig x black reader #cod x black reader #könig x reader #könig smut #black reader insert #cookie writes #call of duty x black reader #cod smut #cod x reader

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myg-butterfly · 1 year ago

Text

Nothing New

Ot7! BTS x Choreographer! Reader (Seokjin x Reader focused)

Summary: You get hurt and have to find a replacement. You just didn't think that replacement extended to your relationship with the BTS members. Will they still want you when you're nothing new?

Tags: ANGST (sorry), eventual fluff, Injured!Reader, Fem!Reader, Bangtan are kind of assholes, this isn't really proofread sorry, I also don't know how this shit actually works with Idol groups so I'm just making shit up lolsies.

A/N: HI omg sorry this took FOREVER. I was gonna have this done this weekend but we went to go visit family so I put this aside omg, but it's finalllyyyy here! I hope this lives up to your expectations. Thank you for all the love on the teaser, and remember, comments and feedback are always soooo appreciated!

Taglist: @bangteezbaby @thelilbutifulthings @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @juju-227592 @kikz165 @plexcaffeinate

All the members had just gotten home from rehearsal, and immediately went to find you just so they could throw silly little tantrums about you not being there.

The way they were pouting reminded you more of kicked puppies than world-wide sensations.

"It's fine guys, I know someone who can cover for me until I get better."

"But we like your choreography better." Taehyung whines into your shoulder and you pat his head in comfort.

"It's just a month or two, Tae."

You had broken your leg about a week ago, and consequently, you couldn't continue choreographing for the group until you were fully healed.

Which meant either the boys paused their learning, or you brought someone else in to cover for you - and you're all aware that pausing isn't really an option.

"But I'll miss you." Your boyfriends were overly dramatic, acting like you were leaving even though you all lived together.

"You'll still see me at home, it's not like I'm dropping off the face of the earth."

He huffs into your shoulder and rolls over so he's sitting next to you normally now.

"Anyway, how have you been? Have you felt okay?" Seokjin sits down on the other side of you and you feel yourself growing a bit shy under his caring stare.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

•••

"Hi! Thank you so much for covering for me. We're on a reall-"

"Save it, it's whatever. I always told you you'd need my help again at some point."

You don't like the implications in her tone but you pass it off with a small chuckle.

"Okay, so they already know 2 out of the 5 numbers for this album, and we were in the middle of learning the 3rd one. I taught it to Hoseok in advance so he can take over for that one. So you wouldn't need to be at the studio until next week. I'll send you the videos I took of the foundation of the other 2 numbers so you can learn it and then teach it."

She looked so uninterested in what you were saying, but you had to be professional.

You called her here in the first place.

"Kay, cool, got it. Also, can I get the guys' numbers? You know, just in case."

"Oh uhm, you can ask them when you see them next week… I'm not sure if they want me giving out their numbers to people they don't really know."

"Well they're gonna know me soon right? Don't be greedy, trying to keep all of them to yourself."

She giggles but you can feel that it's not really one of genuine giddiness and you hope that your discomfort isn't apparent.

"I'll ask them when I see them later today."

You plaster on the best smile you can and she gives you an equally forced one back.

"Okay. Bye!"

She basically struts away and you're left standing there; maybe calling her was the wrong move.

•••

Yep. Calling her was probably the wrong move. But it depends on which side of Y/N you ask.

On the professional side, this is absolutely great. They hit it off right away, all the boys growing comfortable with her rather quick (something HYBE valued a lot), and she was great at her job. Talented, bold, confident, friendly, the whole package.

On a more personal side, this was putting you on edge. How suddenly, all the guys would talk about was 'Joanna said this a rehearsal' or 'Joanna invited us out to eat'. It was always Joanna this Joanna that, and you knew they were just excited to have a new friend, to have someone who shares their passion, you couldn't help but wonder if their feelings for you were simply out of excitement. And now that you're not the newest thing around, would they still want you? Would they still talk about you with the same sparkle in their eyes as they do with Joanna? It left a pit in your chest.

And — yeah, calling her was the definitely the wrong move.

Finally, a long-awaited date with all of you. They were filled with energy, talking and joking on the ride there, and you felt your heart growing lighter, you still had them.

They even helped you get off the car with all the gentleness in the world, helped you get in your seat and made sure you were completely comfortable.

The lightness quickly weighed down into something much heavier when you saw Joanna walk in and make her way to the table.

And the weight felt like it had been dropped to you feet when the guys scooted to make space for her, Namjoon even standing up to hug her and letting her sit first so she'd be in between him and Jungkook.

How long has it been since they hugged you with such happiness?

"Oh my god, Y/N, hi! The boys didn't tell me you would be here."

Something about the way she said "the boys" made your hands itch, almost as much as your throat itched to say 'likewise'.

"Welp. I'm here. Haha."

Dinner wasn't fun, to say the least.

Joanna was blatantly saying shit to embarrass you the entire time, and it even worse, your boyfriends seemed to be soaking up her every word, laughing whenever she pointed out something embarrassing about you when she knew you in high school.

"Yeah! And when we choreographed together, she would always forget her parts." She lets out a giggle and Hoseok laughs too: what's so funny?

"It was only once or twice." You groan, mostly to yourself, but Joanna hears it.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Everyone laughs at her words again and suddenly, you start to think that staying home was the better option.

"I've always said she has the memory of a goldfish. Sometimes it felt like I was doing all the work because i constantly had to step in and help when Y/N froze up."

She turns to you when she speaks her next question:

"How are you doing now that I haven't been here to clean up after you? Are you making Jimin do it?" She laughs and nudges Jimin, who's sitting next to her, on the shoulder, and he happily shoves back with a bright smile on her face.

"I'm fine, it's rare that I forget stuff lately."

She gasps in a dramatic manner, you wish she would just disappear already.

"You? Not wasting time in rehearsal? Because you forgot? That's unheard of!"

You hate the way pretty much all of the guys laugh at her words: they know how much work you've put into being a good choreographer. Why were they laughing at you?

Suddenly, you feel the person next to you pressing up closer against you: Seokjin.

You look at him and he has a soft smile on his face, but not towards Joanna; his entire focus is on you.

"You have a really good memory darling. We can tell you've worked on it." The knot in your stomach softens its grip after hearing Seokjin's words, and for the first time since you got here, your smile is genuine.

"Anyways, how'd you injure yourself?"

"Oh, we were doing some cardio and I tripped. Fell at an awkward angle and it twisted my leg. Haha."

Joanna laughs a little too hard at this.

"I've always also said that for a supposed dancer you sure are clumsy as hell."

Some of the guys giggle at her comment, and you look down at your lap: why were they laughing at you?

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Seokjin sit up a little straighter, and you suspect he's gonna say something.

"Supposed dancer?" He raised a brow and to most people, it would've seemed like he was just egging onto the joke, but you and the rest of the table could tell that there was a serious undertone to his question.

It was no secret in your relationship with the guys that Seokjin had a specific soft spot for you – in a relationship as big as yours, its bound that all of you will have your weak spots for one another: Jungkook and Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung, Hoseok and Yoongi, you and Seokjin.

So you were more than relieved when he met your gaze from across the table; he knew you were uncomfortable.

And as everyone knows, he's not one to stay quiet.

"I just mean it's surprising that for someone so clumsy she went into the professional world where coordination is crucial."

Jungkook uses this point to tease Namjoon, and thankfully the attention is taken off of you. You catch Seokjin's stare again and this time it's accompanied with an apologetic smile and him reaching out his hand to hold yours.

As your hands meet on top of the table, you seem to be the only one who notices the look Joanna sends you at the display of affection.

•••

More days pass by and everyday they get home later and later until you're left going to bed on your own.

You'd made it a habit to wait for each other if one was out late, but it didn't happen often since you had almost the same working hours and when you went out, it was usually altogether.

You'd tried to keep that habit after your injury, but they were coming home later everyday, and you weren't sure you had it in you to keep staying up for them.

Especially on nights like this one, where when they do get home, you're dismissed almost entirely.

The door opens and you sit up, ready to greet them one by one with a hug and kiss, but most of them just mumble a "hey" or "hi Y/N" and walk straight to their rooms.

Only Jungkook and Seokjin genuinely acknowledge you, Jungkook giving you a hug and a peck on the forehead accompanied by a soft "Hi baby." before going to his room as well.

Seokjin also hugs you, but he picks you up while doing so: shifting you in his arms so he can carry you to bed with him.

As he begins to walk, your eyes meet and he sends a soft smile your way.

You barely start to relax in his hold when you realize that he's walking into your room, and you slightly panic at the thought that he's going to leave you alone in there.

Your slight panic turns into franticness as he sets you down and steps away from the bed.

"No! Don't-" Jin whips around at the sound of your voice, and you feel immediate guilt when you see his startled expression.

"Sorry, I- I know you're tired. Sorry, you can go."

Your attempts to decrease his worry don't seem to work, because he's already making his way back towards your bed.

"No, no. What happened? Whats wrong?"

"Its nothing." Seokjin gives you a stern look, you both know that lying to him is impossible.

"It's not nothing. Is it your leg? Or is it something else?"

"Its stupid" you mumble.

Noticing that you're unsure of yourself, he sits closer to you and brushes you hair out of your face in attempts to comfort you.

"Its not stupid if its bothering you" you feel your tears welling up again at how soft Seokjin's voice is. How soft he is with you.

"I just- I don't think I can be alone right now." You lean into his touch as you finally get at least some of the truth off your chest.

"You don't have to be. I was going to shower, do you want to join me?"

"I don't want to bother you."

"You won't."

"But my leg, I won't be able to stand for long."

"It's okay, we'll bring a stool in and I'll help you."

"But you're tired-"

"Never of taking care of you."

Something in your heart settles through the rest of the night, there is no other intention behind Seokjin asking you to join him.

He washes your hair and even dries it once you're out, he helps you get dressed and he goes to sleep holding you, and even if it's just for one night; all is right in the world again.

The next morning, Jin wakes you up and asks you if you'd like to come to rehearsal with the 7 of them. You're elated, to say the least. You knew it was a minimum thing, but your heart couldn't help but flutter at the thought that they wanted you around.

•••

Jin on the other hand, is pissed. Not at you, (never at you), but at his 6 boyfriends and how absolutely dense they could be, this being one of those moments.

He'd mentioned that you were coming with them, and all of them responded well: "I hope she likes the choreo!" "Yay! I want to hear what she has to say."

Their response to you tagging along wasn't the problem, no.

It was their response when he tried to tell them about how you were feeling that pissed him off:

"Wait guys, before we leave, I need to talk to you about something real quick."

All of them were attentive towards him immediately, so he thought they'd receive this better.

"It's about Y/N. And partially Joanna."

"Okay?"

"I talked to Y/N last night and she seemed upset. She didn't really want to talk about it but I'm almost completely sure that she's feeling left out, and I think it may partially be because of Joanna."

All of them begin to speak at once, until Taehyung's voice cuts through everyone else's.

"Why do you think it has something to do with Joanna?"

The 6 boys settle down and stare expectantly at Jin.

"Have you guys not noticed how backhanded all of Joanna's comments are towards her? Even when Y/N isn't present, she always makes a joke at her expense. And not to mention, we've been spending a lot of time with Joanna, much more than we've been spending with Y/N. I know if I were her I would feel hurt; being injured and spending the whole day cooped up alone while my boyfriends are spending all their time with someone who treats me like dog shit."

Jin wasn't sure what he was expecting the boys' reactions to be, but it definitely wasn't the outraged faces they were all giving him.

Jungkook is the first one to respond:

"I mean, I noticed the comments but I thought they were all in good fun? You know, since Y/N and Joanna have been friends for such a long time."

Taehyung cuts in next:

"And if Y/N is feeling left out, I mean I understand but what does that have to do with Joanna?"

Almost as if on cue, there's noise coming from the kitchen, meaning that you're awake.

Jin quickly gets up to go to you, but not before leaving the 6 boys with one final word, "Just pay attention to how she speaks to Y/N, you'll see what I'm talking about."

•••

It's hard to describe – the knowledge that you're being left behind without any obvious evidence surrounding you.

It's not something that everyone outside of your point of view might see, but you can feel it cutting through you deeply.

Not being able to do what you love, and on top of that, not being able to spend time with the people you love, it's a shattering feeling that claws through your chest.

Which leaves you where you are now: in the car with the rest of the boys on your way to rehearsal.

You thought that maybe being back in the studio would relight the spark that made the 7 men drawn to you in the first place, but even the car ride there felt cold and almost uncomfortable.

•••

The atmosphere changes the moment you step foot in the studio. It feels lighter, somehow. You don't know how to feel, not with the voice in your head insinuating that this lightness is because of Joanna; the guys are more at ease with Joanna than they are with you.

You usually hate being wrong: but now, you wish you could say the voice in your head was being irrational, yet you can't. Not when you turn around and see everyone besides Seokjin and Yoongi - who are off conversing to the side - gathered around Joanna, happily talking to her.

When did they stop looking at you like that?

Finally, she takes notice of your presence and makes her way over to you.

"Y/N, girly! Hey! Are you here to learn?"

You don't respond, confused as to what she's trying to ask you.

"Ya'know? Learn from the best! We've been so productive with this number."

She responds like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and you almost feel offended at what she's insinuating.

"Oh, um- I'm here to see what the guys have done."

Joanna blinks at you, as if your answer threw her off, before continuing.

"Oh. Ok then. Cool! And are the boys cool with that?"

You can tell, she wants this to sound passive aggressive. Kind on the surface, but a clear jab at your insecurities.

Jungkook quickly cuts in;

"Of course. Why wouldn't we be cool with that?"

Joanna stutters through her response, being caught off guard by Jungkook as she thought no one had heard her remark.

"Oh! I don't know, you might get distracted? You know?"

"We'll be fine."

This time it's Jin who answers, and even if it's a little selfish, you're glad that his tone towards Joanna is automatically cold.

"Okay thennnn!"

She turns to you:

"But if you start being a distraction I'll have to ask you to step out. Heh, step out. That's funny."

She giggles at her little joke (at your expense), and makes her way into the practice room.

Rehearsal continues as usual, and you feel a bit lighter as the boys all make jokes and include you while they stretch and warm up.

They start to run through the choreography, and your heart swells with pride seeing them dance; all their hard work really does pay off.

As much as you wish to get up and dance with them, or even get up at all, you know you can't. But just seeing them perform will do.

Once they finish, you start to clap and Jimin and Jungkook turn towards you with a playful vow.

"Its looking really good guys!"

All of the boys respond with a 'thank you' and a smile.

"I do have a couple pointers about some things I noticed-"

"Okay, let's run it again!" Before you could finish your sentence you're cut off by Joanna's squeaky voice.

Thankfully, Hoseok cares about what you have to say, and the rest seem to agree as well.

"Wait, I wanna hear what Y/N had to say."

"Yeah! It's felt weird learning a brand new number and not having any of your input on it."

"Y/N, go on." Seokjin is the one who speaks last, and the look in his eyes tell you that things will be alright.

"Ok, so first thing make sure you guys are agreeing on your directions, make sure that it's either a complete diagonal or if its a slanted move so you all move the same direction-"

"Oh yeah, I explained that to them already, they know." You're once again cut off by Joanna.

You use this as a chance to tease the boys, as you always normally.

"Oh, then why are y'all making that mistake huh?" Your tone is playful, and you see Hoseok step towards you with all the intent of playing along, when a gasp coming from your right stops you both.

"Did you come in here just to criticize?"

Of course it's Joanna.

"Wha- no. I was just teasing them. The dance looks grea-"

"I told you you were gonna distract them, and what did I say I was gonna do if you got them unfocused?"

"I didn't mean to, I was just giving pointers-"

"I've been teaching them for the last few weeks, I know what they need to focus on right now."

"But I know that it can look cleaner than it did right now."

"Well this is my choreography! I know what's best! You don't get to come in here and just start shitting on my work because what? You're jealous?! You think you're better than everyone else?!"

You're taken aback when Joanna starts to scream at you, so much so that you try to step back, completely forgetting that one of your feet is injured.

As you place your foot down, a soaring pain strikes from your foot all the way to your thigh. A sob escapes you and that's when Jin's protective nature kicks in full force.

In the blink of an eye, he's crouching next to you and picking you up while everyone else in the rooms stands frozen in place.

The ice is shattered when a wail comes from somewhere else in the room: it's Joanna.

Everyone's head whips to her direction, but for very different reasons.

Jin, for one, is beyond disbelief that she'd go as low as fake crying to get the attention back on her.

The rest of the guys seemed concerned, but not because of her. Rather because they just saw her true colors, how Jin was right, how they'd neglected you.

Seokjin picks you up and rushes out the door, leaving everyone else in the room frozen.

•••

You don't really process anything that happens afterwards. You just know Seokjin is with you as you go to the doctor to get your foot checked out, and that's enough to push you into a state where you know you can space out.

You couldn't comprehend it, how you were hurt and the rest of them weren't there.

Did they even care you were hurt?

It didn't make sense, that you were asking yourself this. When had things gotten this bad? How could they have let thing get this bad? It left you aching more than your injury, and you think that shouldn't even be possible.

When you get home, you find all the boys kitchen, a mess everywhere -much to Jin's despair- attempting to decorate what you assume is a cake. They're all focused to the point where they didn't hear you come in, and if they did, they're really good at acting like they didn't. You want to hide in your room, maybe ask Jin to hide with you, play into their ignorance, but the petty part in you is much quicker.

"Joanna doesn't like cake."

You speak without thinking about it first, and it's clear that none of them were expecting a comment like that, not even Jin, because their heads whip around instantly to you.

You panic for a little, thinking they'll get mad, but Hoseok and Yoongi start laughing at Namjoon's terrified face, at the maknae line looking like they're deer in headlights, and at Jin's round eyes.

Before you know it, They're all running up to you, and Seokjin has to grab you by the waist to make sure they don't knock you over.

They all speak at once, and you can only make out some things like "are you okay? what did the doctor say? im sorry." What cuts through all the rambling is Namjoon's smooth voice, sounding a bit exasperated as he speaks: "The cake is for you Y/N. We were making the cake for you."

Oh.

"Joon! You ruined the surprise!" Jimin stomps his feet, but you know he's not actually upset.

"Well we couldn't just let her think that we were baking a cake for fuckin Joanna!" Namjoon defends himself.

Yoongi steps in front of the two and turns to you, "It was supposed to be a 'Surprise / I'm sorry / We love you / Get well soon' cake but you got here before we finished."

His genuinely dejected demeanor makes you giggle, he looks like a sad cat.

"It's okay-"

"No it's not. Cake or not, we're all really sorry- hold on, we should sit down for this." Jungkook grabs your hand and leads you to the couch, the rest following suit.

You all sit in silence for a second before Hoseok speaks up:

"Well I guess I'll start." He sits up a little straighter so he's facing you directly, and you feel nerves run through you: was he upset? Was he going to scold you?

The guys seem to notice how you tense up, because Hoseok's face falls a into a small frown, while Jungkook scoots closer to you and Jin places a hand on your thigh.

"Y/N, I am so so sorry for the way we've been acting, and the way we haven't been acting. You got hurt under our watch, we should be the ones taking care of you, no questions asked, and we've failed to do that. There's really no excuse for how inattentive we've been. In our heads, or at least my head, I didn't really see you all day, so I thought that everything was okay because I still got to wake up to you, I still got to come home and feel comfortable knowing that you were here: we had your company. But I failed to return that company, we all failed to give you the bare minimum, and I truly am so sorry."

For the time you've know Hoseok, you've only seen him cry once or twice, so when you see tears start to fall from his eyes, it shakes you up and down. Before you can go console him, Jimin speaks up from where he sits beside Hoseok.

"Hobi's right, Y/N. We didn't pay you enough attention. We were too worried about ourselves to consider how our actions looked to you. The whole thing with Joanna, we did spend a lot of time with her, but even then, all we did was talk about you. Not in a bad way, obviously, but you just always came up in conversation. I don't know why I thought that talking about you would translate as 'we're still giving you our attention' as if you could read our thoughts or something. But again, we were selfish and careless, and I can't apologize enough for how we acted."

You appreciate Jimin's attempt at lightening up the mood, and you appreciate his words overall.

The next hour goes by in the same manner. The boys apologize one by one, not to just you, but to Seokjin as well, and before you know it, there's no one in the room that isn't crying, all of you a teary and snotty mess.

"We love you so much, Y/N. Please let us make it up to you. I love you so much." Yoongi's the last one to speak, and he finishes while walking up to you and bowing at your feet.

The rest of the guys join him, even Seokjin, and you don't know what else to do except throw yourself on the floor with all of them and cry.

The night ends with all of you cuddled up on the floor, until Namjoon and Jin make you all get up so you could go lay down properly.

They guys don't let you walk, no, Jungkook carries you while Taehyung and Jimin squish at his side in an attempt to stay close to you.

You all manage to squeeze into a single bed with you in the middle, hands everywhere trying to keep you close.

You feel warmer than you have in weeks, and meanwhile the guys do have a lot to make up for, with arms wrapped around you and sweet nothings floating in the room, you think this is a great start.

#bts #bts fic #bts au #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts drabble #bts hurt/comfort #bts ot7 x reader #bts poly #bts fanfction #bangtan

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inuyashaluver · 11 months ago

Note

Okay I think I need more MLT fics because that was too cute for me to handle at 7 AM

nail day - maya le tissier

maya le tissier x reader

description: in which you and your girlfriend have your monthly nail session, resulting in silly arguments and timers being set

warnings: nothing i think, fluffy!!

a/n: your wish is my command, lovely! IM FEEDING EVERYONE MAYA CONTENT WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT, I LOVE HER ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, maya find it hard to be apart from each other. the familiarity of one another’s presence was considered a necessity at this point.

a main contributor to your major codependency is the fact that you both play for england and manchester united. there wasn’t really an option to be separated and that was the way you liked it.

—

you and maya originally started dating when you both signed for brighton & hove in 2018, you were the same age and just stuck together like glue, your friendship short lived until you both started flirting shamelessly with each other.

through endless pining and yearning over numerous dates, you began to date when maya made the first move.

it was a cold day and maya had texted you that chilly morning that she had a little surprise for you. when she came to pick you up for training, she stood at your front door with a warm drink in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.

“what’s all this for?” you smile, hugging the girl tightly, taking the items quickly before ushering her inside your flat.

“oh just because, look how they spelt your name on the cup” she giggles nervously, fiddling with her hands as she avoids eye contact with you.

your eyebrows furrow but you look at the cup nonetheless, you look down to see maya’s handwriting on the cup.

‘girlfriend ♡’ followed by a little ‘please x’ written under it. the smile on your face was something maya would never forget, it made her heart beat so fast, honestly feeling like a panic attack.

you put your cup down with a big smile and immediately jump on the girl, she catches you by your thighs and laughs brightly when you kiss her cheek repeatedly.

“i’d love to be your girlfriend! you’re so cute” you coo, she smiles up at you and wraps her arms around your waist to give you a tight hug. “you’re the cutest” she mumbles into your shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss there while she holds you to her.

everything felt right in that moment, like a missing piece of you was finally complete. both of you knew, this was special.

—

when you and maya signed to manchester united, you moved in together in a brand new flat, creating a home of your own together. a perfect reflection of the two of you in every nook and cranny.

one thing you and maya agreed on wholeheartedly was that spending time together outside of football related activities was incredibly important to your relationship.

whether it was enjoying a night in or just going out for a stroll, you both loved that quality time of just being together without a care in the world.

one of your favourite activities to do with each other was to get your nails done. every single one of your teammates at united as well as england knew how important nail day was to you and maya.

it was a time for both of you to just sit and chat with a little pampering, you would both make an effort to match in some way. whether it was the same colour or same little design, both of you would be walking out of that nail salon with matching smiles and nails.

did you get teased for it? oh god, like no tomorrow but you and maya loved it more than anything. a subtle yet extremely loud ode to your relationship.

something else you and maya also loved about nail day was your nightly back scratching session. sure it sounds weird but you and maya literally couldn’t get enough of it, becoming part of your night routing no matter where you were.

so much so, it blended into your everyday lives, the gentle scratch of nails offering a comfort the both of you couldn’t explain, it was familiar, it was home.

—

you and maya finally had a free weekend, both of you excited for nail day. the previous day in training, some of the girls were asking what you’re matching set will be this time, something maya took great pride in and asked for opinions to everyone that was willing.

“do you think red or white?” maya ponders to ella and millie, the girls look at your girlfriend with amused smiles as she slings an arm over your shoulder.

“hm, red goes with the kit” ella points out, millie nods along with the girls words. maya thinks about it for a moment, “true, but england camp is in a couple days and we won’t have time to change it so if it’s white then it’s universal” maya explains, at your girlfriend’s seriousness, you begin to giggle.

maya immediately looks down at you with a smile before she realises you’re mocking her, “baby, this isn’t a joke” maya huffs, “i know, lovey” you nod with a sympathetic pout before kissing her cheek affectionately, causing the girl to melt into your touch with pink cheeks.

“but if we’re wearing the away kit, you could also get blue as well” millie informs, this conversation was genuinely so serious and it was so endearing.

maya sighs, she’s frustrated. “shit, you’re right,” she tucks you closer into her side as you all conversed.

“we’ll figure it out, maya baby, don’t stress” you chuckle, reaching up to graze your nails on the back of her hand to ease her worries, maya looks at you and nods before giving you a quick kiss on your lips.

—

you both ended up getting both blue and white nails, maya gives you a satisfied smile when you both interlock hands after walking out of the salon. you both had the time of your life just chatting and enjoying each other’s company while getting your nails done.

when you both got back to your house, you both binge watched a bunch of movies while packing your bags for camp, which was coming up the next day.

giggling and getting distracted by maya wanting your attention. managing to tug you in her lap to lazily make out, you give into her for a couple minutes before you realise what she was doing.

“maya” you scold, she smirks at you while she squeezes your hips, “yes, beautiful?” she kisses your lips sweetly and you physically have to push her away when she keeps chasing your lips for more contact.

“the bags” you point out with a smile, she groans and rests her forehead against your collarbone, nuzzling into you while you remind her what she needed to pack, she tended to be quite forgetful when it came to packing her bag. (you think she does it on purpose to make you do it - spoiler, she does)

“you’re not listening, are you?” you huff, feeling the girl kiss your neck gently, “you sound very pretty” she mumbles into your skin, moving to kiss your jaw and giving you a teasing kiss on the corner of your mouth.

you shake your head at her amusingly, “you’re impossible” you whisper against her lips, kissing her quickly before hopping off her, receiving numerous complaints as you packed the girl’s bag for her. she gave you a big, dizzying kiss as a thank you so you weren’t complaining.

that night as soon as you got to bed, maya gives you a devious grin and you already knew what she wanted. she pushed you to lie flat on the bed while she peeled your shirt slightly upwards.

you let out a sigh of relief when the girl gently rakes her nails over the skin of your back. she kisses your cheek as she scratches your back, smiling at the way you completely melted under her touch. it was incredibly intimate for the both of you, something that you both considered your love language for each other.

after about five minutes, you and maya swap, she hums happily as your nails graze her warm skin. “i love you” she exhales, you kiss her back quickly, “i love you” you giggle at her progressively getting sleepier by the second.

you take your hand off her for a second and she immediately springs up to look at you with an offended expression. “hey! that was way shorter than what i did for you!” maya accuses, throwing you a half-hearted scowl as you look at her with wide eyes.

“it was the same amount!” you laugh, she shakes her head instantly, sitting up to face you in the bed. “no, baby, sorry but you’re wrong,” maya tutts, crossing her arms over her chest as you giggle at her.

“don’t laugh, it’s not funny!” she whines, you nod and place a hand on her thigh, your nails gently scraping the skin there.

you watch her visibly soften for a second before she points an accusatory finger at you, “don’t try and weasel your way out of this, missy” she scoffs, you laugh brightly at her and you can see her fight a smile.

“i’m not laughing” maya grits and rolls her eyes, you can see the corners of her mouth twitching as you laugh at her. “hm, i think you’re smiling though” you grin, moving closer to her and poking her cheek, she moves her head to bite your finger and you yelp as she almost catches it between her teeth.

“nope, that’s it’, we’re setting a timer” maya hurriedly grabs her phone from her bedside table and puts on a five minute timer, looking at you expectantly when she lays back down. “fine” you groan, watching your girlfriend become a puddle under your touch.

after the timer went off, she reset it and you immediately protest. “maya! no, it’s my turn!” you whine, the girl looks at you in mock confusion, “what, no? it’s still mine, look” she shows you her screen and you can see she reset the timer.

you narrow your eyes at her but give in easily, you both would do anything for each other and you both knew it.

“the deal is that you scratch your girlfriend’s back, (y/n/n), be serious!” maya exclaims after scratching your back after her 3 turns, moving to tackle you to the bed, you both lay on your sides giggling and smiling as you just look at each other. the amount of love you held in your eyes told you both everything and more.

she grins lazily at you when you push some stray hairs out of her face, she pulls you closer to her and instinctively scratches your back.

you smile and kiss her sweetly, returning the gesture and falling asleep easily that night.

—

when you both arrive to camp, you’re immediately asked about the results of nail day, maya boasts immediately and shows off to everyone. even showing the media team which has shown to be a new tradition in the arrival videos.

long story short, nail day is essential for both of you and everyone knows it.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily lessiiii

liked by ellatoone and 44,232 others

mayaletissier: don’t let your girlfriend take advantage of you just because she’s cute and pretty, kids

view all comments

yourname: you don’t scratch someone’s back for two seconds and suddenly you’re taking advantage of them

↳ mayaletissier: i still love you

↳ yourname: i’m a saint because i love you more

yourname: you got way more scratches then i did!

↳ mayaletisser: i did not!

↳ yourname: 30 minutes worth!?

↳ mayaletissier: have i ever told you how beautiful you are

↳ yourname: minx

lionesses: these nails were a definite favourite!!

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #maya le tissier #maya le tissier x reader

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lightlycareless · 4 months ago

Text

Not really Naomi's first day of school, but more like your and Naoya's reaction to it. Mostly yours, Naoya tends to be quite... distant because of work ugh I hate it. 😿😭😭😭 I just like writing silly domestic things :)

warnings: fluff. domestic au; you have a beautiful daughter with Naoya named Naomi. He is a good husband!!! as well as an overprotective father, just like you.

Happy reading!

“—but nothing too far, we must be able to answer quickly if something happens!”

“Then why are we even considering beyond the estate? There’s no safer place than here!”

“Well, you are right in some way… but she still deserves to make friends, you know? Hang out with kids her age, make friends… do things of her age! And not limit herself to me or my staff…”

“No one will be good enough for my little mochi. We might as well keep her here, you know? Besides, she actually doesn’t need to go to school. She has her whole life set up already just for being my daughter!”

“Oh, Naoya, just listen to yourself! We can’t deprive Naomi of the world! It’s her right, just as anybody else’s”

“But we can choose what’s right for her, and I think her being homeschooled is the best option.”

“…For us, not for her.”

Naoya sighs.

Seems that at the end of the day, no matter how much the two tried to avoid the subject, they always came back to the same conclusion: Naomi needed to go to school.

No homeschooling, no private tutoring, none of that. She ought to go to an actual building where she’d meet other people, from teachers ready to aid her growth, to kids who wished to befriend and play with her.

It was a day that everybody knew was coming, and yet, you and Naoya couldn’t help but feel highly unprepared; mainly due to both needing to prolong the inevitably.

And neither could be blamed, after all, you and Naoya had grown accustomed to having little Naomi around all day; hearing her cute giggles resounding across the estate, the pitter patter of her feet running from one side of the hallway to the other, her witty chatter that often made little to no sense, yet you loved hearing, for it filled the cold, emptiness of your home with her warm presence, to her adorable snores…

You didn’t want her to go. You wished her to stay…

But as good parents, this needed to be done. And soon, instead of taking Naomi to accompany you to your errands, or your quick runs to satisfy whatever sweet craving you had, you’d be taking her to school; to leave her there for seemingly endless hours, unable to know what she was doing.

If she was happy, if she needed you.

And yet, that was the beauty of watching her grow; another part of you wanting to accompany her through this special moment and all that pertained through it: from buying her first backpack, dressing her up in her first school uniform, to helping her choose what hairstyle she wanted for her first day—

It was all exciting for you and Naoya.

Didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult for overbearing parents like you to drop her off at the gates of whatever prestigious school both decided to enroll her in (only the best, Naoya required, anything less is just a waste of my time).

You naturally preserved the moment through thousands of pictures, a few selections posted on her dedicated Instagram and causing an expected commotion in your family.

naomis_grandpa: Naomi-chan looks adorable as ever!! I can’t believe she’s going to school already—time sure flies by! Why don’t we celebrate her first day of school by having a small gathering? I can arrange something over there!

l/n_hinata: Oh, I wish I could’ve been there but you know how work is 😥😥!! I’ll call you later to ask how her first day went (and if you’re faring well lol) Good luck, Naomi-chan!!

l/n_ren: Haha, she looks just like you on your first day, all the way down to the pout! The resemblance is uncanny, she really is your daughter.

zenin_y/n: I wasn’t like that on my first day..

the_strongest_one: Yes, you were! I remember! You wouldn’t stop crying once your mom and dad left you hahahaha!! I think I have a picture somewhere… anyways, did Naomi cry like you? Or was she strong, like me?

zenin_naoya: leave my wife alone.

the_strongest_one: sure sure, but does your wife know you just dm’d me asking for the picture?

zenin_y/n: Naoya.

But Satoru’s words did highlight an important point, one that you expected to happen yet surprisingly, it didn’t. Naoya was equally amazed when you told him about it…

In other words, contrary to all beliefs… Naomi did not cry. She did not whine, demand to be taken back home, nor did she tightly cling onto you as you guided her onto the entrance.

Nope, nothing at all.

Instead, she was excited to start this new adventure! See what this so-called school had to offer and seize the moment!

You won’t deny that seeing her so happy was both elating and disappointing in some ways, undoubtedly for having your expectations refuted—the two were virtually inseparable, after all, surely… Naomi was just as affected as you were.

But alas, the ones far more emotionally invested were you and Naoya, trying your best to move on with their day as if nothing had changed, behaving like Naomi was still at home, just around the corner…

Kind of dramatic, wasn’t it? She was to return home 4 hours later…

“Oh!” Your thoughts would be interrupted by the loud sound of your cellphone ringing, a call from the only person you expected to do so at this time, pausing your work and rushing to respond, a smile on your lips as your husband’s face appears on the screen. “Hello, my love! How are you? How’s work treating you?”

“Dreadful, princess—as always, every second I go on without you is pure torture.” He confesses, exhaustion evident in his face. Oh, how you wished to kiss his worries away. “Just wanted to check in on you, I didn’t call you on a bad time, did I?”

“No, not at all. I was just tending to the garden; I heard you asked the gardeners to change the flowers to something Naomi liked, That’s very sweet of you.”

“Well, she mentioned liking sunflowers—and you know I had to do it.” He states proudly, your heart flutters at his smirk. “And you? How is my pretty princess?”

“Tired.” You admit. “And a bit hungry too; it’s almost noon.”

“Don’t forget to eat, I don’t want to come home and hear you hadn’t.”

“I know, I know… it’s not like my staff will allow it anyways.”

“Good. It’s what I pay them from.”

“Naoya…”

“I know, I know.” He sighs. “No need to scold me.”

“I’m not scolding you…” you pout, Naoya laughs.

“You’re adorable—anyways, do you know how my beloved dumpling is doing? I’ve missed her so much.”

“Ah, right! Wait, I think she should be awake right now so you can see her!”

“Wait,Y/N—" Naoya tried his best to lessen the shock which you would inevitably encounter once acknowledging reality, called out your name a few more times, but it was all for naught for you were determined into getting to Naomi’s room, hoping to find her playing with her toys in the company of either your seamstress Hitomi, or your cook Haruko, the latter being her favorite nee-san at the moment (though you don’t tell Hitomi that).

To see the glow of your face dim upon entering your daughter’s room is a sight that will remain imprinted in the back of Naoya’s mind, filled with an overwhelming need to comfort you, yet impotent to do so while kilometers away.

There’s no doubt now that you remember where Naomi was supposed to be, pushing you into a vivid emptiness her absence placed in your heart: a sentiment you never thought possible until becoming a mother.

“Y/N…” Naoya murmurs, heart-stricken upon seeing the sorrow in your face.

“Oh, Naoya… how could I forget that she was at school?” you lament, defeated.

“She’s always been there, it’s only natural that you’d forget.” Naoya attempts to console you, you sigh. “…What makes you feel this way? Besides missing her, of course.”

“… I don’t know, I guess… I fear that she might not like school at all. That the teachers don’t like her either… that she doesn’t get along with the kids…”

“She’ll be alright, my love. Naomi is a good kid, she’s our daughter after all.”

“I know, I just… wished I could be there for her. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but that’s how it’s always been! I’m there for her when she needs me… and she’s here for me when I need her…

I just… miss her, I guess.”

“I’m sure she misses you too.” Naoya can be nothing but understanding of the solitude you must feel in a place like the Zen’in estate now that he, and your daughter, were away.

Naomi had truly come into your life at the best moment, a blessing of sorts, that is without a doubt. For not only was she remembrance of the ever-growing love you felt for one another, and the achievement of a personal milestone…

But also, the one to fill the void your husband’s absence had unwittingly given you.

Though you knew the type of relationship you’d have once getting together with Naoya and all that his demanding career entailed, it didn’t make it any easier to live out. There were countless nights were your heart ached so much to have him near, and yet, all you could do is anxiously wait for his return—hope there would be one, if fate hadn’t decided to cruelly rip him—

You worry that your attachment to Naomi might come to harm her in the long run, that you’d hinder her growth for your own personal desire…

But you just loved her so much to act otherwise. You just wanted the best for her, and nothing less. Was it all too wrong?

“She’ll be home soon, you’ll see.” Naoya adds, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your gaze returns to him, to his gentle smile, a reminder that he’ll always support you. “And when she is, I will call her, and she’ll tell us all about her first day at school.”

“Do you think she’s having fun? Or do you think she’s afraid? She’s never been that social, you know? At least not when meeting new people. What if she doesn’t get along with anyone? Or what if no one likes her? Oh, she’d be devastated….!” You naturally fret as a concerned mother; there is nothing you’d like more than your daughter to be liked by everyone!

“I wish I could tell you.” Naoya continues, understanding your concerns for he too considered them—experienced them, in fact. He’s known what it felt to be lonely, even when given everything in the world. So, the last thing he desired was for his daughter to go through the same. “But there’s one thing I know for certain.”

“What is it…?”

“That she’s an adorable kid. The type one could only love. And if they don’t, they’re stupid.” He shrugs. “And there’s no cure for stupidity, so don’t worry about anything; She’s perfect just the way she is… and I know that because she’s got you as a mother.”

“Naoya… when did you get all sappy on me?” you murmur, doing your best to hold back your tears.

“I—I’m not sappy, I’m just… saying the truth.” He stammers, and though subtle, you’re still able to see a tint of red in his cheeks. “How about I pick you two up after work and we get something to eat? It’s been a while since we’ve gone down to the city.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful! And that way we can also celebrate Naomi’s first day of school! I can’t wait to hear all about it; I’ve always loved how cheerful she spoke, makes everything far more entertaining!”

“We just gotta keep this a secret from your father; he’s been calling me non-stop about a supposed reunion he wants to make for our daughter.” Naoya warns. “Haven’t seen him so enthusiastic since… well, he’s always like this, isn’t he?”

“I kind of feel bad for leaving him out…”

“Well, he is on the other side of the country.”

“If it were up to him, I think he would’ve liked her to be enrolled in a school over there. And as much as I love it when they spend time together…”

“Yes?”

“…We’re a bit too much, aren’t we?” Naoya laughs at your words. “People might think we’re bad parents…”

“No, Y/N. I know for a fact that I have much to improve, but not you. Never.” Naoya smiles, wanting nothing more than to hug and kiss your insecurities away. For he could be nothing but glad that his daughter was unconditionally loved, cherished far more than his family even bothered to care.

Your worries and enthusiasm just proved what he always knew, what he saw the moment his eyes fell on you, what his heart sung when he fell in love:

“You’re absolutely perfect.”

🥺

#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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rise-my-angel · 2 months ago

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

64 - A Mockingbird's End

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

Length: 16.3k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, past character deaths, mentions of violence, disturbing or gory imagery, mental duress, executions, character death

Notes: I'm sorry this took so long to come out. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The last she had been down here, somehow felt as if she were more lost now compared to then, even despite the turmoil in her mind. Looking up to his statue, Sansa could not say how long she had been there, seeing his face stern in the stone carved just like she could remember it and yet not at all. If she thought back carefully, she could still remember the final good times. How even though she had previously claimed to Septa Mordane that she would never forgive her father, never wanted to speak to him again, she had broken that instantly on the second day of the Hands Tournament.

A silly wishful girl who had been enamoured with Ser Loras Tyrell gifting her a red rose as his favour, and the memories of the day before having watched The Mountain thrust his lance into a mans throat he bled out on the ground. Without any thought, Sansa had leaned into her father, wrapping her arm around his in worry. The manner of softness her father gently held her hand, murmuring that it was alright. How neither let go when the Mountain sliced his great sword through the neck of his horse, or when he attacked the weaponless Ser Loras and too watching as the Hound fought the Mountain in defence. Even when it was all over, only did either let go as Sansa stood to clap.

Her father never got angry with her for what happened at the inn. Never looked at her with a betrayal, only confusion as to what was happening around him. How despite she tried to put the blame on him for being the one to do it, he had delegated the task of ending Lady’s life himself because she deserved better then what they would do to her. How all of the mess had started because she stubbornly didn’t want to side against Joffery when they came across Arya and the butchers boy.

She felt stupid for not seeing through Joffery’s facade of sweetness when it was staring her right in the face. She had trusted in him and yet, she made the same mistake again and again.

She trusted Joffery would keep his word and show her father mercy, and he didn’t. She trusted Petyr to help her, and he had used her for his own gain. But in truth, what other option was there for her? Sansa knew nothing of a life out in the wild to survive on her own, and she had no one she could truly go to that would be able to help her in a way that mattered. She knew little of what her home in the North looked like anymore because he kept it all from her on purpose.

But what was worse, was that Sansa still put trust in him after he had done far worse.

The fight she had gotten into with Robin was childish. She had been building a snow castle of Winterfell, having stepped out into the courtyard and seen snow falling. Her cousin had come in, and for a little bit she felt normal. They joked about whether or not Winterfell had a moondoor, and both tried to come up with a fun way to put one into her girlhood home for the sake of it. But he had accidentally knocked over one of the towers, and Sansa had felt frustrated. Standing up saying he ruined it, only for Robin to argue back that he didn’t. Back and forth they argued about it until Robin stomped on the snow castle on purpose, and Sansa found herself, albeit not with much force, slapping her cousin across the face.

She felt horrible instantly, it wasn’t his fault he grew up so different from the violence she had been around for years and that to him, a slap on the face was enough to send him running away. She tried to call out to him saying she was sorry, when Petyr came down from where he had been watching. Looking down at her hand, she felt that guilt saying she shouldn’t have hit him. Petyr tried placating her, saying that his mother should’ve disciplined him long before now, and to not worry about what she would say when she learned of the little fight.

Standing there all alone, Sansa asked him why he killed Joffery, truly. He had said that it was to get revenge on how Joffery had hurt the ones he loved, but then he...well he made it confusing. Telling her that he loved Catelyn, that in another world he might’ve been Sansa’s own father, but that they did not live in that world. He had taken advantage of her confusion, and kissed her in the courtyard.

It wasn’t Sansa’s first kiss, that was Joffery when he tried to manipulate her into thinking he was a nicer man then he was. Nor even her second, but her third was no more as real feeling as the others. This was one from a man posing as her father, saying he could’ve been in another world and then kissed her. She didn’t really know what to do, and allowed it to happen only as long as it took for her muscles to awaken and pull away. She didn’t want to accept it, that maybe he wasn’t being honest about why he was helping her, but she had no choice.

Even worse, Lysa had seen. Her Aunt Lysa had grabbed Sansa by the back of her neck and held her over the moondoor yelling at her to look, calling her horrible things for a kiss Sansa never wanted. Petyr had come up, telling her to let her go, that he’d make it right and send her away instead. But then he had looked her right in the eye and told her, that the only woman he’s ever loved, was Catelyn. And pushed her out the moondoor himself.

Petyr had wanted her to marry Harry Hardyng, pose her as Alyane and marry her to him but did she grasp why? No, of course not. She did what she was told. But now she knew. Were anything to happen to Robin, the title of Lord of the Vale would go to Harry. It was why they called him Harry the Heir. She had been tricked into feeding her own cousin poison, so that his death meant Harry would take his place and Alyane would marry at his side. She dared not think what would’ve happened then, not after knowing what lengths Petyr had gone to before.

But she couldn’t give excuses anymore. Sansa had lied for him. He protected her more then once, she had no other person there who could protect her and yet she stood there looking at the statue of her father and hated herself. She hated Alyane Stone, she had allowed all of it to happen, she had followed Sansa here to Winterfell and she had allowed Petyr to whisper in her ear trying to tear her apart from her family all without telling any of the truth.

Standing in front of the statue, the tomb of her father, Sansa felt her eyes sting at what betrayals and death followed her nativity even to this day. Her brother had sentenced Petyr Baelish to death, but Sansa wondered who would die with him. Alyane Stone for good, or what was left of Sansa Stark that he would drag down to the seven hells with him.

Footsteps trickled in slowly however, breaking the silence and not yet interrupting it either as a shorter figure approached from the corridors coming close. Neither said a word yet, but both understood that something had to change from the last time. Something had to break before it shattered on its own between them.

It was Arya who found her voice first, quiet as if not to echo across the walls. “That day, at the Sept of Baelor. Joffery said you asked him mercy for father.”

It wasn’t a question, but Arya had the feeling her sister was going to answer it as one anyways. “I did. I never understood why they were trying to claim he did, I knew him. We knew him. He would never do something like that, I had to do something, more then what they already made me.” That time the question was a proper one, asking what they made her do not that the answer surprised Arya. “Cersei made me write to Robb. She said he needed to come down to Kings Landing and swear fealty to Joffery. She said what would happen to father depended on Robb, and on me.”

Almost a laugh could’ve left Arya had the haunting of a tomb that never would be didn’t sit mere feet away. A roughness to her voice was not however, overpowering of the edge almost bordering on cynicism. “The Lannisters put his father and his wife in chains, and they thought Robb would just go down there to kiss Joffery’s ass?” Surprisingly, Sansa let out a burst of a laugh first.

Trying to smother it right away, but Arya only turned to look at her with wide amusing eyes. Trying to steel herself back into a calm, Sansa only let a grin peek through with another laugh that grew infectious on Arya, trying to speak through the laughs to explain herself. “It isn’t funny it’s only- looking back on it I have no idea why Cersei thought that would work.”

Sisters both looking to the other, Arya let herself remain a little less tense, hoping it would ease the air between them further. “It did something alright.” She wasn’t sure the last she had even shared a real joke of any form with her sister.

Pivoting back herself, Sansa found the words to finish towards Arya’s actual question. “When that didn’t work, I pled for mercy. In front of the court on my knees, begging him to simply show father mercy. Joffery looked me in the eyes and said he’d show him mercy if he confessed and said he was the rightful King. And I was stupid enough to believe it.” Glancing to her side, Arya yet said nothing watching as something seemed to sit right at the top of Sansa’s throat before it cracked out. “The day after, he took me up onto the walls and made me look at fathers head, that showing him mercy was giving him a clean death.”

No yet what she wanted to say was out, but Arya filled the gap for her for now. “I tried to stop it, or I wanted too.” Feeling Sansa’s curious eyes on her, Arya only looked up at the statue of her father as her hand gravitated towards Needle just as she had that day. “I didn’t know what I would’ve even done, but I tried to go to him. Even with just Needle I wanted to get there and stop it, but someone stopped me first.” Sansa only asked in a short whisper of who. “His name was Yoren. He was in the Nights Watch, down there looking for new recruits. He recognized me and stopped me. Held me there and told me not to watch. But I could still hear everyone shouting around me, and I could still hear you. Screaming for Joffery to stop. After that day all I could think about was killing him for it.”

A heavy swallow dredged down Sansa’s throat, almost as if once doing so it created a dark upsetting pit in Arya’s own stomach. If the sting in her eyes was anything she knew Sansa too matched if she dared look. “I almost did.” Arya’s head whipped up and over to look at her but Sansa’s eyes had trained more down on the ground, distant in nature. “When I was up on the walls. I looked down to the fall and I knew it would kill him. I can’t remember if I had a plan for what I would’ve done after or if I didn’t care. But I wanted to push him off the walls then and there. For a long time I wished I had killed him.”

Letting the quiet sit, Arya had the feeling that something was about to burst finally and allowed Sansa to simply keep speaking until she had no more words left. “But I did, I didn’t know I did, but I carried the poison. I watched Joffery die. But father, mother, Robb, they were all still dead. And the bad things still kept happening. Beacuse of him. Beacuse just like with Joffery, I was stupid enough to believe I could ever trust anything about him.” Arya never expected her to say it or to even come close to it, but she did. “I’m sorry for bringing him here. I never should’ve trusted him. If I knew what he had done..”

Cutting her off, Arya found the role odd to play comfort to Sansa but yet it came quite naturally as she turned to her a little more. “If you didn’t bring him here, we never would’ve known what he did. Everything he’s done. But you did and we do, so maybe that’s all that matters now.” No words were given back as Sansa continued to look up to the statue until something much more full of life came out of her mouth, changing her tone drastically. “You really would’ve pushed Joffery off that ledge?”

A smile graced Sansa’s face finally. “I came close, I was only a foot or two away from him before someone stopped me.” Though, when Arya asked who, she was both surprised yet not by the answer. “The Hound.”

The two sisters it seemed, had found a whole new discussion between them. A topic of the strangest thing they now had in common, yet.

“You’re sure there’s nothing else I can do?”

Jon could easily see why someone such as Ser Yohn Royce would take to Ned Stark, only ever in written correspondence did they two previously speak but the man in person was a bit on the rough side, serious, and was more blunt then many outside of the North. It was for his fathers sake did he agree to keep Sansa’s identity in the Vale a secret, but it was also for his fathers sake did Ser Royce come to Jons aid now.

A drink shared between them in the quiet of a study, Jon had felt as if finally he had a chance to think, to simply let go of the weight forced down onto him from the days proceedings. Both thanking him and asking if he needed anything, not wanting any strife between him and the Vale now of all times for what he was to do. But Ser Royce was as he seemed to be by nature, stern but blunt. “I assure you, your grace. He may act like it, but he isn’t Lord of the Vale. Executing him will do nothing that would make a single one of us even blink.”

Leaning forward, Jon perched his arms further along the wooden desk he sat across from the man. “What about Lord Robin?”

Only huffing out a laugh, Ser Royce leaned back in his seat. “Boys a handful, no doubt. But getting him out from under Lysa and Littlefingers thumb has done wonders for him already.” Taking a long sip from the wine before him, adding, “He tried to poison the boy too, no matter how little sense one has in their head, you tell them that and love dies out right quick, let me tell you. You take that mans head and no one will shed a tear.”

Nodding somewhat to himself, Jon sighed deeply. Reaching up to run a hand across his mouth, the relief yet stress was clear on his shoulders. He hadn’t had a single moment’s peace in the over a week or so he had been back, it was absurd how much the man had walked into Jons home and thrown everything off kilter so drastically.

Another laugh, that time much more quiet filled the air. “You’re just like him you know.” Raising his head, Jon only gave him a look of question. “Your father. Would sit just like that carrying all that stress on his bloody shoulders like it was about to crush him too. He’d be proud of you.”

Not quite a grimace, but a twisting came over Jons face as he found a break in not knowing how to respond by taking a slow yet steady drink to pass his nerves even a little. “I don’t know if I’d say that.”

Pointing to him a moment, Ser Royce didn’t let that doubt linger. “Now I know you’re just like him. Could never take a compliment, was always too hard on himself. Jon Arryn used to joke that Ned wore stress on him the way women do their gowns.” Part of Jon felt the curiosity, never the chance to really ask but also not knowing how. With what Jon knew was the truth his father hid from them all, asking seemed almost odd. Peeking into a secret he wasn’t supposed to be in on.

“What was he like?” A raise of his eyebrow, Jon specified. “Jon Arryn. I knew my father looked up to him, but I never met him before he died.” Both men were well aware the usage of the word was more for simplicity sake, certainly at this point.

Ser Royce found a bit more ease in his posture at the question. “You were named after him- or well, I’d say I was surprised Ned never told you anything about him, but you lot don’t up easy in the first place do you?” Jon barley shrugged a shoulder, but his eyes were full of a painting speaking the language of a curiosity. “Your father served as his ward for many years when he was young, but, the man was always more like a father to him then anything. No offence meant to your grandfather, but Jon Arryn was just a man easier to open up too. And he never took that for granted, treated your father like the son he never had. Then at least.”

Both let a small smirk out, but Jon felt not quite satisfied, that pricking in his mind like a bird pecking at the inside of his skull yearned for something else. A scrap of anything of a time he now realized his father wanted him to know next to nothing about. “What about the rebellion?”

Inhaling deep, Ser Royce took a mighty drink before settling into the memories of a time long passed. “I fought on your fathers side remember? Horrible thing the Mad King did, Brandon and Lord Rickard didn’t deserve that. But after they died, the Mad King ordered Jon to bring him the heads of Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon. He’d been like a father to them half their lives, asking him to kill them after-” Cutting himself off, Ser Royce took pause, one both could understand wasn’t easy. None of those days could be easy to look back on. “So instead, Jon took up arms. Called on the Lords and Knights of the Vale, declared war on the Targaryeans. All to protect them.”

Jon could only sit in silence, it was an odd thing. Considering the man whom had become his namesake, and hearing something that felt a little too striking for his comfort. A father figure risking everything to protect someone he considered a sort of son. Swallowing roughly, Jon desperately wished to push past it, to shove it back down deep into the depths of his stomach before the wonder of a father that should never have been took place instead.

Ser Royce thankfully, seemed entirely unaware of the turmoil in the man across from him, not nearly an expert on the deepness of the grey within his wide eyes. “He was a good man. It didn’t mean anything insignificant, naming you after him. A great honour.”

Jon again nodded, face twisting a bit to hold back the vision of his fathers face. The risk of what that face could turn into, but he had no image. He had nothing to go on, nothing to compare him to but two men who held looks distinct from him. It all was twisted, he almost regretted the question. A gruff rasp forced itself out to sound casual. “I know. He meant a lot to my father, it won’t bring him back but maybe this could give him something. Whatever justice this is after so many years.”

Leaning forward, through the abrasive nature was an understanding man. “The Queen and your father had started this, looking into his death. Now you and her are finishing it. No shame anywhere in that.” A glance around the room, Ser Royce asked with much more of a brash casual nature as if he could easily flip flop between them. “Where is she, if you don’t mind my asking? Your wife?”

Looking up as if that would give him the answer, Jon pushed up from the desk by his palms with a low mumble. “Let’s find out.” The guard outside his door given a simple instruction to find you and bring you back to the study, he left the door partially open for you before making his way back to the desk. Trying to find an explication that would suffice for your sake, “She likes to stay busy.”

A smirk came over the mans face with a knowing. “No need to explain to me of all people, your grace. I have plenty of daughters, and their own fair share of grandchildren between them. Finding time to do near anything with a newborn is a miracle for a new mother, let alone one with the duties of a Queen.” He meant it in a joking manner he new, but Jon couldn’t help but consider the fact that he could reasonably say he wished you didn’t.

If he had it your way, you’d take care of the baby and yourself. Leaving the worst of things to Jons burden but you were as stubborn as he was protective. He’d have to chain you to his bed to get you to stop trying to alleviate his stress. A rough rasp with what of a smirk Jon could muster. “She’s done more then enough, would rather her take it easy.”

He could see what of Ser Royce his father liked, blunt and to the point. “She’s a Baratheon, your grace. Trying to tell any of them what to do is a lifetime of a challenge in and of itself.” Again, Jon forced a laugh. He knew that certainly between yourself and Stannis, but he dared not stray into Robert. The truth regardless, he was your uncle, and he died. He didn’t wish to let what happened before he was even born get in the way of that, but the thought never really went away.

The man whom was the reason his father would never go to the King and ask to make him a legitimate Stark. Drawing more eyes to Jon from him was nothing of what he wanted, what he lied and gave up to keep. And yet he thought, enough of a man despite that, to inspire his father to name Robb after him.

It was all too complicated, and knowing practically none of them but his father did not help paint a picture to Jon of the world outside the North.

The slick sound of metal swinging through the air should’ve been one which many would give feelings of either a rush of battle or fear of it coming for them. Instead, it flipped and turned in your hand again and again. The gold of the handle held jems of rubies and emeralds, and filtered over to the handle which had carvings each made to outline where the back of a mans hand was to wield it. The black was not it’s natural, scorched from dragonfire and unable to be broken so easily. The dragon bone made to hold a blade of Valyrian Steel, the question rattled through your head. What then?

When Jon did his duty, when Petyr Baelish was dealt with, what then? A man hovering over the traces of your life like a vulture. Seeking any chance to swoop down and take what he decides is his without any care of the rot around as long as he got it. He slithered his way into Catelyn’s life so young that his presence bled into the Starks. Carving his way from one to another.

First Brandon Stark. Betrothed to the young and beautiful Catelyn Tully, Brandon found himself challenged to a duel for her heart. A young, weak and meek Petyr Baelish thinking what the stories always promised. The lesser man always came out in the end, but forgot that the real world was far harsher then that. Defeated with an almost humiliating defeat, he thus suffered the embarrassment, near emasculating fact that Catelyn had to plead to keep him alive. That he was “Just a boy.” So Brandon Stark left him a token to remember him by, a scar carved into him from navel to collarbone.

Then he was murdered, and the still young and beautiful Catelyn was quickly and swiftly married to his brother. Ned was her husband and Stark became her name and off they went out of Littlefingers life beyond his reach for who knew how long. Not anywhere near the revenge he could take upon the man who humiliated him, but his brother became the next best thing. Then he attached himself again further to the others.

A parasite breaking off to infect the other Starks even when they didn’t realize it. Bran attacked with the very blade now flipping in your hand. He hadn’t expected Catelyn to be there still, he didn’t understand the grief a mothers dedication could hold onto and slashes across her hands came just as they were relived on you now. An echo of the stain he left behind in an attempt to spill a child’s blood. A child who could not even think to run or fight back.

He leeched off of Sansa in a sick fantasy of a woman who never loved him, trying to form her to go from girl to woman which was thus made perfect for him. You could think of no worse man to hover over Sansa’s life after that of Joffery. If you thought more of it, you’d consider her true name now.

He had used her to carry poison, knowing the blame would be placed on her and her husband. Tyrion was arrested as she was whisked away to saftey. He would be found guilty no doubt at the hands of half a family whom hated him and she would be free for whatever he desired. She could marry whoever worked best for his own goals. But you looked at that blade and wondered.

What was his plan now? Was that why he brought her here? His plan to free her to marry off had failed? Somewhere out there still lived Tyrion Lannister no doubt. The rumours which had reached you spoke that he was found guilty along with Sansa whom wasn’t even there to defend herself, and in response, he had killed the mighty Tywin Lannister. Shot with arrows in the privvy, as if to show him that even in death, Lannisters were just like the rest of them. Not even they were good enough to shit gold.

He had disappeared the same time Lord Varys did. It took no mastermind to put that together, but yet he was not there when Aegon had crossed the Narrow Sea. You certainly would’ve recalled had any of them mentioned the man, and your own mixed feelings attached to things he had done and what you had once thought of him. Where he was now, you almost dared not consider. You had enough to tackle here and now without travelling into foreign lands to find out.

But the thought returned to your head. What then? Jon cut off the head of Ramsay Bolton, and in his place was something even worse which came clawing it’s way towards you. Somehow being far away from the likes of Euron Greyjoy made it worse, you always knew where Ramsay lurked, you never knew where Euron did. You take away the piece of Petyr Baelish from the world, what comes into his place?

He was a man whom would see this country burn if he could be King of the ashes. What worse would fill that spot when he’s gone? What lurked beyond him?

One always could be found either pestering you by dragging a young girl still not yet a woman into a brothel to force you to do business at his leisure, by the side of Renly making bets and trading laughing insults, typically to the dismay, at your father’s expense. If not then, he would be seen conspiring with Lord Varys. Always the same at small council meetings. The first to arrive and the last to leave, both men normally could be found muttering their mysteries at each other speaking riddles only they truly knew. But Lord Varys, he was not the same sort of man.

He had told Ned Stark once that as strange as it may seem, in his own way, he was a man of honour. Just serving honour in a way which did so differently then the rest of you. He would not take his place, he was not the same sort of threat. It hadn’t escaped you however, that despite being an advisor at Aegon side, the entire time on Dragonstone he was nowhere to be found.

Just as your thoughts were about to fall off the edge of the cliff and down into the sharp rocks below, did your mind get dragged away with a sudden voice coming to your side. A low rasp, but not quite the one you would’ve wound a craving in, but one that seemed to soothe a nerve which had been long untended too. “I’d congratulate you on the bravery it took to say what you did today, but something tells me you don’t quite feel the same way about it as everyone else does.”

Looking up, your hands nearly slipped from their almost instinctive focus, grasping quickly the sturdy hilt before the blade sliced through the find leather gloves and reopened wounds which always seemed to target your hands. What that could mean you dared not think about. Pulling it back down into your lap, you let the golden cover return to it’s just as ornate sheath and sitting it to your side. Or, at least the side of you that was not taken up by the very sleepy bundle covered beside you.

Only a mutter coming from you. “I did what I needed to do. Nothing more.”

A grin came over him, his cheeks did the same thing as Jons when he smiled as charming. Wide and bright, almost a dimple on each side of his smile with a breathy but deep laugh. Making no fuss to sit beside you, it did strike you as interesting that his nieces and nephews were all here to spend time with but it was you whom Benjen Stark seemed to consistently find his way to. “Just take the compliment.”

Your eyes blinked heavy down to the icy pond before you, the ghost of a smile came across your own lips. As much a ghost as the true one sitting on little Eddards other side. A small carrier, almost like a basket to sit him in when treading outdoors, blankets on every single side and heavy to cover him, angled a manner which any falling snow would not accost his face. The large direwolf white as the snow around you lay comfortably in the cold, head resting on the stone right beside where the baby slept.

He followed you both everywhere, and in the small case he was elsewhere, he typically followed you if Jon were not by your side. You almost wondered if Jon even needed to command that, if the two White Wolves simply spoke the same over protective language. Drawing back to the present, your voice was low but only an uncertainty and weight against it as you spoke. “I’m not so skilled at that. Taking compliments.”

Leaning back more comfortably, Benjen seemed at ease out here in the Godswood as Jon did. Men of the North without any doubt, were your son not with you, you’d wonder if you looked a true foreigner sitting here. Benjen joked with an ease, “I’m aware. Heard more then enough from Jon to know that’s true.” Gesturing to the baby, he found a fondness in his eyes. “Everything it took to get him indoors, and it feels everytime I see him now he’s right back out here.”

Your eyes drifted to him, a brightness coming over them as much as something significant was captured in your chest. Hardly a voice at all but Benjen’s simple proximity meant he heard you clearly. “The first week of his life was in a place like this. He never knew indoors until Jon got him to Castle Black. I think part of him feels more at home outside, the only thing he knew besides Jon in the first hours of his life.”

Tilting his head a bit as it to capture your attention to his bemused disapproval he matched it in tone. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but he knew you for as long he was away from you.” Your lack of response almost said as much as if you let out a monologue of thoughts on the matter. You certainly hadn’t thought of it in those terms. Yet it seemed Benjen read you better then you did him, rooting out that feeling filling you again drop by drop at the thought. “None of that reflects on you.”

Sighing deeply, your head hung. Eyes slipping closed for the length it took to inflate your lungs with the refreshment of a bitter cold down your throat. “Jon tried to tell me that.” Jesting with a casualness that Jon was right, you withheld the desire to sigh once more hoping he took no offence to the stiltedness of your sudden shift in demeanour. “How many mothers could say they spent the most important first few hours with their child, apart from him as he nearly starved?”

The feeling came over you that perhaps Benjen was holding back something more openly comforting then he would’ve naturally been for your sake. Speaking slowly, as if to ensure you understood him. “How many new mothers could say they were kidnapped hours after giving birth? Or could say they killed men to fight her way back to him before it was too late?” You had no such response, and it seemed he knew that, a slight laugh coming from him. “You’re too hard on yourself. I can’t tell if that’s from your father and mother, or if that was simply my brothers influence rubbing off on you.”

A mumble came from you, your eyes drifting back to the baby, turning a little in his sleep as Ghost shifted to see him clearer along with him. “I am afraid that it was far too late for me to pick that up from Ned Stark of all people. If anything he and the others had to be the ones to try and drag that tendency out of me.” The only small smile you could give with any air of amusement, “To varying degrees of success.”

Benjen joined your laugh. The quiet falling between you but without the air of awkward as so many people would make it feel. As if he waited to find a flow where you could be drawn back in with ease, only to find it a feat not easily taken on. Cutting into the quiet on his own. “You don’t need to feel happy about what’s going to happen, but you shouldn’t sit out here beating yourself up for not figuring it out before now. If it weren’t for you, none of this would’ve come out the way it did.”

Was that true? Were you to turn in place and look upon the bleeding face carved into the Weirwood, you considered Bran. What he was capable of contrasted to however it was connected to you, he had even explained it and yet you still didn’t understand. You knew what he was and who came before him but where you it into this which he could not accomplish on his own was still unclear.

Your hands traced over the shielded blade once more, dancing across the jems to the black dragon bone which still baffled you. “And how many died to get here? If I never trusted him in the first place, if I talked Lord Stark out of-”

Cutting you off, Benjen once more came across more amused as if to even you out. “Lord Stark? My brother’s been dead how long and your still referring to him like you didn’t marry two of his sons.” Mumbling that putting it in that way, Benjen laughed running a hand in mocking thought over his facial hair. “Alright, before you married into his family. Twice. With both of his sons-”

The sigh that left you pulled out a far greater laugh which echoed nicely in the wind, your own smaller laugh breathing out just enough to ease the tension so wrought in your shoulders. Inhaling through your nose, your gaze drifted up to the snow covered trees all around. “The things everyone in the south must be saying about me.”

“I’m willing to wager that whatever they’re actually saying is much more inappropriate then you could come up with on your own.” Wide eyes turning to him almost in a bemused audacity, he shrugged a shoulder. “When your surrounded by people all crammed into a small area, you learn quickly that people will say almost anything about someone else to amuse themselves when they get bored.”

Your eyes drifted to the side a little, the weight continuing to lift little by little as if that was his plan, which possibly it may as well have been. “Do you ever get tired of it all? That none of this ever seems to stop?”

“Everyday. But I can’t live my life on what ifs. I spent an entire year asking myself what if when half my family never came home from war. I stopped asking about what ifs then, no amount of wondering what I could’ve done differently will change that it happened.”

Your hand drifted over, running over the top of the blanket safely covering the baby’s head. The small bundle seemingly having drifted further into the comfortable warmth. Why you said it, you weren’t even sure. It came out before you had the sense to stifle it. “Sometimes I worry Jon has what ifs about everything he’s done for me.” But by the time it was out, there was no taking it back. You almost tripped over your words, eyes flickering closed as you grimaced through a head shake attempting to backtrack, as if it were not already too late. “I only mean, either I’m the problem or he’s putting his life at risk trying to fight the problem away from me. Just the wonder what his life would look like now if he had someone at his side who could give him peace.”

The green of yourself in little Eddards eyes not being visible helped. All you could see was hints of a son whom looked so much like his father, and ignoring whatever traces existed that were of you. As if you could imagine a life where the mother of Jons child was anyone better then what you gave him. Before any answer could come to you however, did the interrupting voice of a far less inconspicuous figure come intruding through the godswood.

“My Queen, my lord. Your presences have been requested by the King.”

Looking over at you, a much more bright look sparkled in his eye. “We dare not refuse.” A small smile waved over you again, both of you standing as Benjen waited patiently for you to pick up little Eddard from the smaller cradle, Ghost taking up an instant position to snatch it in his mouth where he no doubt would see fit to deposit it somewhere warm inside the walls. The slumbering bundle resting comfortably in your arms, his head drifting down to rest where he could against you, the action hardly made a dent in his sleep so far.

A respective hand found higher on your back as he guided you inside, Ghost close on the other. Up one set of stairs down the hall and into another did you know you were being led to the study which Jon had seemed to unofficially claim as his own. Away from much of the hustle and noise of the castle, and in a comfortable darkish area that was not quite cramped, but not wide and spacious.

You wondered if it was in part a passing over trait from his time in the Nights Watch. The quarters of the Lord Commander were not unlike it, dark and grim to some but without distraction and mostly to the point. A bow from the guard as you pushed the partially open door to walk through it, did Jons eyes catch your glance first. No doubt gazing over the snow still somewhat melting in your hair and from the white fur once of his still around your shoulders, and the still sleeping bundle in your arms.

Excusing himself briefly, he stood from his seat passing Ser Royce, pulling you just a tad bit closer to his side with one hand, the other finding the top of little Eddard’s head with a gentle smile at how little things phased him now that he was home. Rasping to you while his gaze was directed towards the baby, “Still prefers the outside?”

A tilt of your head to indicate yes, you almost found it in you to smile. “He has much of his father in him, no doubt.” If Jons gaze could smirk, it would’ve been as his grey eyes peeled up to yours, withholding the urge you could read in them to kiss you, at least in front of the present company. Certainly one difference you could note between he and Robb, one was far more willing to show that affection so openly without question then the other. Not that such a thing truly mattered in the grand scheme of things.

Peeking passed him, a smile more of grace came over you to the standing Ser Royce behind Jon. Almost on an instinct were you the one with a small, handless curtsy as if the manners in front of a Lord had been imprinted in your head. A man proper as him in title showed you the same with a smaller bow of his head as Jon and Benjen both shared a glance withholding smirks.

“I believe we have not been properly introduced, my lord.” Stepping closer, you shifted the baby more to come out from hiding under your cloak, the feeling of warmth behind you as Jon took the liberty to unburden you with the weight of the fur. “I must thank you for-”

“No need to thank me, your grace. Simply doing my duty is all that I did.” You continued to thank him regardless, allowing him the freedom to dictate the discussion as he pleased. “There was something that needed to be said, and if I’m the only one brave enough to do so, then so be it.” Your head tilted in a curiosity, but found a parting of your lips as something once more long lost waved through your blood. “Yourself and Robb Stark called upon the Vale to help fight for justice against the Lannisters, and we had utterly failed you both.” Shaking your head you tried to dismiss it away, but it was a distinct bluntness on his tongue that showcased this likely had been something long building up. “Were the Knights of the Vale given the choice to fight for whom we pleased, we would have joined far sooner then the never it turned into. We could only do as we were bid, and Lady Arryn refused any of us to leave for any cause.”

You knew she was a problem during the war. Locked herself and the Knights of the Vale away and refused to come out or cooperate in any manner. Robb had hardly known her, but being his aunt, he had sent her a raven as well as the rest of the Northern Lords when he was the first to take up arms against the Lannisters. She refused to even speak to her nephew on the matter. By law Ned Stark was her brother and he had been murdered and yet still she hid away. Not even coming to the funeral of her own father, something you could only find as an insult beyond belief.

Were you in the middle of the south, received word that your father had fallen at the Blackwater, you’d have had no qualms setting yourself a path to Storms End for the same. On opposite sides of a war or not, but she had shut out her entire family on any side and locked the knights and lords willing to step in and fight for herself. An entire army untouched by years and years of devastation and war and she had them right at her fingers, then Littlefingers, and now, you could only hope it was not too late to give Robin the teachings he deserved to be able to rule.

Your own words tried to express it all however, in fewer words then was likely needed to convey the degree which you needed nor wanted no apology of any sort. “You have helped us enough, my lord. Helped Jon uncover a plot against him in the first place, and today to expose what sort of man he had been painting himself to be. You’ve been of invaluable help.”

Ser Royce raised his eyebrows towards Jon on the other side of the room. “A difficult woman to compliment.”

A more jestingly dramatic sigh came out of Jon as he walked back over, a hand finding your lower back firmly. “You have no idea.” A playful glare shared between you both before he gestured for you to hand the baby over to him. A smaller soft sitting area by the fire with a spot all ready set up to lay his son out with him while he worked it seemed. Laying him down, you silently appreciated how much he refused to allow you to do all the work the way you were prepared to do regardless.

It happened faster then you could stop it, what came next. How it all would look and come out to a man such as him, but it begun as Ser Royce stepped forward, shaking hands as he and Benjen introduced themselves to one another. “A man from the Nights Watch I presume?”

A pride natural on Benjen as he responded, what was over half his life spent there he had an easy time jumping into any discussion of the matter. “I am, the first ranger for Castle Black for..” Reaching in his mind looking back, he had a bit of amusement seeking that far. “Gods, it’s more then well over twenty years by now.”

Nodding for a moment, the thought seemed to register in Ser Royce’s mind, the dots connecting as he in a much more fond manner pointed out what he likely hadn’t considered in some time with everything else going on. “My sons at Castle Black. One of your rangers, not that I’ve heard from him in gods know how long. Imagine you’re all rather busy preparing for winter.”

An understatement if there ever was one, and yet as Benjen tilted his head a little trying to put it together, he found himself asking for specifics. “I’ve been beyond the Wall for longer then I’d like to admit, but if it was somewhere a little over five years ago, I’d know him well.”

If it came to Benjen right away, he didn’t show it, but it didn’t quite come to you right away either. Not the way that most would be able to just attach a name to the face of a man they knew. “Waymar Royce. My third son, had little chance at land or wealth the way his brothers will, so he took the black.” You stood far more still then Benjen did, catching Jons attention in the back of his head but your eye fell far and distant trying to understand the feeling inside of you growing, or what it meant as Ser Royce continued with a fonder amusement. “Last time I was ever in Winterfell, stayed here for a few days or so when I went up with him.” A laugh coming over that to Jons own memory, had him chuckle as well. “If I remember correctly, was back when the Lady Sansa was still just a girl. Think it broke her young heart knowing Waymar wasn’t staying, even moreso realizing where he was going.”

Benjens face was more recognition, details fuzzy in his mind but more collected then yours. “I remember him. Strong lad, we could always tell when we had men come there who grew up in a castle. Was eager to make an example out of other boys during training.”

A raise of his eyebrows as he huffed out, “Doesn’t at all surprise me. Love the boy, but gods help me was he ever arrogant sometimes. Imagine he’s grown out of that now.”

Almost looking to Benjen and Jon for agreement, it didn’t clue in for Jon, but he picked up the hesitation between the flickering of eyes he and Benjen shared. Looking between them, an ask of what came more bluntly from him when Jon tried to start more gently. “My lord..”

That time without meaning it in aggression, Ser Royce was a little more forward as his face twisted in a gruff worry. “What is it?”

Benjen took the start, but the three men had yet to notice the manner which you seemed to have frozen in place. Frozen in more ways then one as something cold ran up your spine that did not enter the room itself. “No one’s seen Waymar for some time.” The man said nothing, a confusion waiting for an answer before he reacted at all. “Went out on orders to track a group of wildlings, and never came back.”

Looking between he and Jon, it was understood to be somewhat true. Jon had never met the man, but that was it. All his time in the Nights Watch and he never met him at all, and it was not a difficult thing to sniff out who the highborns were in a place like that, but Ser Royce seemed to find more confusion at the same instance you grew colder and something in your heart begun to shake. “What do you mean never came back?”

The room fell colder and colder until the roof faded away as did the walls. Stood on a higher floor, yet beyond the stone tiles were snow. Snow and forest and woods all around as darkness creeped as the sun begun to fall behind the sky. The room and men were before you, all the furniture in place and fire blazing but yet it was all covered in the falling snow. Your eyes flickered between the three of them-

Two. Only two men, you were standing where the third was as if you were trapped between both he and yourself. All looking around in a clearing, did you feel the dread rising. His voice was arrogant yet confident, but yours traced along with him in a whisper with wide eyes. “Your dead men seemed to have moved camp.”

All eyes turned to you suddenly, but you saw them none. Much stronger that time you followed the voice of whom you stood with just as you had argued back once before. “They were here.”

Your name was called, by whom you couldn’t even hear. Instead of a rasping voice by your side it was the older face of Gared organizing that you all look around. Your body turned on its own, not feeling how you slipped from Jons grasp. Turning into the room more you paced, almost as if looking for something slowly but with a trepidation, not recognizing that the woods you walked through looked just like the study you also were just in, as if both blended at once.

Again your voice whispered, unaware if any even heard you as the three men behind were not there with you now, as if you couldn’t recall what was happening around you clearly. The voice was not the strong one you stood as but a repeat of what you somehow still knew was said, the sight of Gared nervously picking up the remains of entrails did you whisper, “What is it?”

But the scream was far away, not for your sight again. Horses ran in distress as a cold wind froze your skin and a feeling compelled you to turn. In the room facing them, you yourself looked upon the blue eyes of a little girl whose orange curls were one pinned dead against a tree. Suddenly you felt as if you saw them, yet they weren’t even there. None were in the room close to it, but you felt his need to run.

Not even the force it took of two men to stop you drew you out of the sight before you. Almost falling to the ground did the two pairs of hands guide you as to not hurt yourself but you could not run and thus you watched.

The swift stroke of a blade of pure ice slice a head right off. But not yet done were you, you watched the true one in question force his bleeding self up. Blind from ice having shattered into his eyes, his fine furs unlike the nights watch and dark hair belonged to a man who had refused yet to die after being striked down. Your voice whispered as his did too, standing his ground one last time against an impossible foe. “Dance with me then.”

But the one you watched as, too watched the other man fall. It took no time with the freezing presence surrounding them for him to open his eyes wide and blue just like the girls.

Jons hands found both sides of your face leaning close to you, Benjen with one on your arm and other on your back to keep you steady as breaths gasped for your lungs. The room returned, but beyond them was more of a sight then you left it. Ser Royce stood further away with more then confusion, an apprehension and fear he did not understand. By the door both guards had come in, no doubt at the scene whatever you had done had caused.

Jon called your name gently, moving one hand to run down the side and back of your head through your hair as you caught your breath and pounding heart to settle. Despite the cold you felt as if you had begun to sweat and shake, as if the cold was outweighed by the drive of fear between the men whom had been invading your vision.

His rasp struggled to find itself comforting in your heart as your hands tensed, palms braced against the floor you didn’t realize you apparently fell too. “Darling, look at me.” Barley able to force your eyes to focus long enough to find his worried grey ones wide and bright towards yours, you barley found it in you for a hand to rise up and grasp at his forearm in lieu of speaking just yet. “You’re back here, you’re alright.”

It was mostly a nod to go along with it, still yet your mind yelled too loudly for it to tell any other part of you to settle. Lungs, heart, all overworked as you swallowed roughly to force away the weight in your throat. Your eyes closed, trying to even your breaths out as you heard Benjen gentle beside you. “Is the reaction always this strong?”

You knew Jon wished he could say no, but he was not a liar. A single nod of yes was all that was needed to convey the degree of pain in his heart, as much as it never got better for you, it never got easier to watch for him. A more soothing feeling of Benjen running a hand over your back in a comfort helped along with the warmth of Jon so close, but neither changed the scene you had watched before your eyes.

Cracking out loudly, did you find it within your energy to speak. “Ser Royce...your son..” Eyes opening up as your heart settled enough that your still heaving breaths had begun to finally work in calming your mind, he stepped forward with a large trepidation as if he knew not what to say, not that you would blame him.

More on the rough side did he try to stay formal while also letting a shortness peek through. “I mean no offence, your grace, but if this is a strange, long winded way to tell me my son is missing or dead-”

But your head shaking had him cut himself off. Hand curling into the material covering Jons forearm, he leaned the slightest bit closer to match how his hand on your cheek slid down to the side of your neck more firmly. Eyes casting down to settle the sight but not able to shake it off as it had rattled you to your bones the last time too, you tried to breath out in almost a faintness, “No he- worse. It’s far worse.” Asking what that could possibly mean, your gaze finally rose, switching between both Starks before you as they both realized there might be a discussion coming they weren’t prepared for, or had even planned for. But ignoring the display Ser Royce had seen, was now set to a task that would be impossible.

Jon took the responsibility for it without any hesitation. Looking up and back to him, his voice was low and rough but a seriousness sat within his tense expression which was not to be questioned. “I think my lord, you’re asking questions you might not believe the answer to.” But Ser Royce did not say it with a judgment, only as plain as he could muster through his confusion and concern.

“I just watched the bloody Queen in the Norths eyes go white as snow and start rambling like she was having some vision. I think whatever answer you have for me couldn’t get more unnatural then that.”

Yourself, Jon and Benjen all knelt there wishing desperately that he could’ve been right, but he was nowhere close.

Part of you wished you could stop seeing, not a vision before your eyes or even closing them, but just letting the sights wilt away so you didn’t have to face what you were looking at in truth. Not everyone was looking at you, but there were a good number who kept glancing with an unknown you suspected was weariness. Sat somewhat to the side of the room, you had almost doubted briefly to Jon if you should be holding the baby.

A small mutter as your brows furrowed looking down to him, “If it happens again and I’m holding him-”

Jon had crouched before you, hands braced on the sides of your thighs as you sat looking up to you with nothing but trust. His voice just as low for only you to hear with reassurance, “You’re his mother, I won’t keep him from you just beacuse you’re scared of this.” Trying to protest what if you accidentally hurt him, he cut you off. Reaching up to cup your cheeks, “You won’t hurt him. Alright? I know you won’t.”

Hesitating, you finally nodded as Jon pressed a kiss to your forehead before moving around to the main table. Taken the lot of you to where Sam was, it would be easiest to explain this if there were as many people to validate it as possible. You knew Jon hadn’t intended on approaching the Vale with any of this, and if he would in the future it wouldn’t be bombarding one man without any preparation. That was your fault.

Jon stood beside Sam, and around the other sides of him stood Maester Wolkan, Benjen, Theon, Tormund and Lord Howland with Ser Royce in the middle across from Jon and Sam both. You sat still close, but somewhat off to the side. More to where Gilly was kneeled to the ground playing with Little Sam quietly.

Most in the room kept looking at you whenever Jon wouldn’t notice. You didn’t blame them, you couldn’t possibly imagine how you looked or sounded, but it didn’t stop it from hurting that you were beginning to be looked at from many as something of a pariah. Gilly and Sam both kept sharing looks when they’d glance at you, your eyes cast to the side pretending you didn’t feel it. Certainly you knew Ser Royce kept doing so, and on occasion you would catch Wolkan and Theon both too.

Your head would turn down to little Eddard laying in your arms, him trying to reach out to you as if he senses the distress in your heart and sought to heal it by keeping close to you at all times. One finger almost always had his hand grabbing onto in some way as they spoke to your side.

Trying to explain things to him was a delicate task, Jon had to keep everyone focused on the facts alone and not make it sound like an embellished story more then the truth would appear. Like most Jon had tried before, Ser Royce struggled with it. “These things you speak of, they’ve been dead for thousands of years.”

Tormund had the least tact, but a bluntness with you imagined in his own was, Ser Royce would appreciate. “They weren’t dead, old man. They were sleeping, but they’re not sleeping anymore.”

Sam had interjected to try and piece it together in a more put together sense from how much he’s read thus far. “The old texts say they sleep beneath the ice for thousands of years. And when they wake up, they’ll come for us. All of us.” Asking gruffly isn’t that what the Wall was for, Jon had the answer no doubt.

“It is, but we don’t know what they’re capable of. The First Men barley left anything for us to translate, and we’ve had to piece together what we already have. But they know we’re all on the other side of the Wall, and they clearly think they can get passed it.” Letting others say their peace, most went around the table with what they could provide.

Jon had started with the night a wight tried to kill Lord Commander Mormont, Sam had given the details of the attack at the Fist of the First Men. Benjen was more vauge, talking in depth of the dead they would find and how many rangers disappeared and never came back and how many others begun to desert as a result of what they’d seen.

Ser Royce had fallen very silent when Howland Reed begun to speak, and you and Jon both suddenly understood why he choose to be at this meeting instead of Meera, who had been there. Telling with a heavy heart that his children had gone out beyond the Wall with Bran, and one of those wights had murdered his son out there. That the body had to be burned and never brought home because he would’ve been changed.

If that left pain, it left even more questions which had Theon glancing up at you pretending not to notice as he spoke for you. The day at the Nightfort, the trio of wildlings had died in there, mostly likely frozen to death, and they woke back up with blue eyes and attacked he and you. You ignored with your head down that most of them looked at you, and noted the ones in the room not even bringing up the fire. Just another thing that would make it all look worse on you, a blessing for Jons image was to keep that claim out of it. He didn’t need you muddying the already murky waters he had to wade through in order to try and get outsiders to understand.

By the time it came to what occurred at Hardhome, Jon and Tormund both took great length to explain it, and there was no misidentifying the horror behind both their eyes at the extent of power and death they had watched that day. “If they breach the Wall, they’ll come for everything and everyone. And if no one but the North is ready when they do...we’ll be lucky if five thousand people down south manage to live through what they didn’t even know was coming for them.”

Palms braced against the table, Ser Royce spoke with slow words to try and form a coherent thought of the amount put in front of him. “And you’re saying, my son is one of these things?” Jon specified it was a wight. That the Others could turn nearly anyone into a soldier for their own army.

If any of them noticed the slight manner Jon and yourself glanced to the side to catch the others unnerved gaze, no one seemed to think anything of it enough to say anything. You looked away at that point, catching a glance that time with little Sam. The wooden toy horse he had near his mouth before he noticed you and smiled, waving the toy as if to wave to you. Your smile was small and soft but it made the toddler smile back. Yours however, fell rather quickly when you looked more up to see Gilly’s gaze hesitant towards you, and directing little Sam’s attention back to her.

You had just started to feel like you found a friend who treated you normal, and now you sat in a room full of many people all on your own. Most of them looking at you like you were a curse yourself, or a curse put upon Jon. You hadn’t even heard the question about you being asked, your ears only picking up once you heard Lord Howland speak on it. “She has an ability my son did, the Sight. Something which can show them dreams and visions, give them answers to questions we didn’t even know how to ask.”

Ser Royce made a guess as to a bit of what it sounded like, “You mean those dragon dreams the Targaryeans always claimed to have?”

Jon and Howland Reed both shook their heads at the same time with a no on their lips. The later allowing the former to explain a bit clearer. “A similar idea maybe, but this is different. These are connected to the North itself. The Targaryeans spoke of them like they were prophecies, but she can see the past and present. More then she ever has anything like the future. It’s giving her answers, not promises, but they aren’t always easy to know what they mean.”

He wanted you with him, you told yourself. Jon wanted you by his side more and you wouldn’t disobey that, but you hated sitting in this room being looked at like out of everything being said, you were the strangest one. Bran had what you did and far more to a powerful degree, he wasn’t losing his mind, or appearing like it. That was only you it seemed. It made you want to take your son and disappear where no one could look at you in that judgment.

“And my son turning into one of those is what she saw?”

Benjen took the mantle up for your silent sake. “She saw more then that. Everything she saw that day was from Wills perspective, one of the rangers with him. Sometime after that, he ran. Crossed the Wall and tried to run away, and was caught by my brother.” Jons brows furrowed as he looked up to his uncle asking when did that happen. “A little before Ned was named Hand of the King.”

Jons gaze that time turned noticeably to you, not that you wanted to notice. A wondering rasp distant in his voice as he explained almost to himself. “His brothers were slaughtered by them, turned into wights and he deserted. I was there that day.” Meeting Benjens gaze with a realization striking on his features. “The ranger, Will. I was there the day my father executed him. He kept saying the he saw the Others and then-” Cutting himself off, Jons head tilted a bit as if looking back to his own memories. “Then we found the direwolves...”

Something was there no doubt, but putting it all together was a nearly impossible task. Especially when you knew was much as the both of you did, together.

A shake of his head to draw himself out of it, Jon pulled himself back in as he addressed Ser Royce. “I’m not telling you what you should or shouldn’t believe. I know how impossible this all sounds, but if they breach the Wall, they might not stop until they slaughter every one of you.”

The few who caught the manner in which Jon had phrased that narrowed their gazes, but little was spoken of it otherwise in the moment. Yourself nor Jon had even realized what it was he ended up saying.

“What is it you want us to do?”

Sighing through his nose, Jon swiftly pulled something hidden at his side and placed it on the table. A shard looking like black glass with the heft of a stone that would shine if the sun were still at play. “Dragonglass. It kills them and wights both. I nearly went to war with Aegon Targaryean just to get it, beacuse I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my people alive. But I won’t stand by and let the rest of the kingdoms die if I can help it. I don’t need every man in the Vale up here to fight with me, but I want you and your people to know how to survive. There’s no point in all of this, if I just let everyone but the North get destroyed.”

Sliding it towards him more, Ser Royce picked it up with trepidation. Looking its cool smoothness over as Jon continued. “I’m not asking for an answer. Just that you think about it. Beacuse they’re still coming if you believe me or not. I’m sorry about your son. Really, I am. But what happened to him will happen to everyone you’ve ever known if we don’t prepare for this.”

Tormund if anything, knew how to somehow end on not as firm or strong of a note, but certainly how to end it with a packed punch as he gestured to Jon. “He pissed off damn near everyone in the Nights Watch bringing my people south of the Wall so we didn’t all get slaughtered. Probably helped getting him killed too.”

If anything almost had you cracking a smile, it was the fact that the sentence came from Maester Wolkan’s mouth. “I assure you that story is true as well. Once you’ve seen a man walking around with a stab wound in his heart, you find yourself willing to believe just about anything the North will throw your direction.”

“If you wish to return home after tomorrow, I thank you for your help. But you’re welcome to stay in Winterfell as long as you need to decide if you even believe me.” Dismissing the meeting for the night, Ser Royce offered the shard of dragonglass back to Jon, who handwaved him off. “Keep it. You may need it one day.”

Nodding in a small bow, Ser Royce politely did the same for you before parting with nearly everyone else. As Sam made his way over to Gilly, Jon gestured for Theon that he too could leave. One of the few times he had no doubt in that, Jon was far more equipped to handle you in this specific state then any else.

Murmuring your name, Jon finally reached a hand out as if to beckon you to his side by the table as well. Pulling you gently into his side by the waist when you got within reach and turned you to face him, tilting your gaze up to his eyes by under your chin. “How do you feel? The honest answer.”

Sighing, you kept your hold of the baby close to you as if for more comfort. Muttering in hopes the only other trio of a family in the room couldn’t her your self doubt so evident. “I’m sorry I made you do this all tonight so suddenly.” Murmuring that it wasn’t your fault, Jon let the hand by your chin move so his thumb traced the cheek he was cupping the side of. Not willing to dwell on the topic, your face twisted a bit downward. “The deserter your father executed, you found the wolves that day?”

Nodding, his warm hand and body in general your only comfort so far. “The same afternoon, we were on our way back.” Asking the question of his own for the same clarification, “The ranger you saw through that day, he’s the same one..” Once again you nodded, Jon sighed but not in a manner you thought was towards you at the least. Running down your hair finally, you felt his fingers toying with the loose stands. “Feels like the more answers we find the less anything makes sense.”

Shrugging one shoulder you muttered meekly but earnestly, “You’ve done a good job so far.”

A small, soft grin Jon gave you, before cupping the back of your head. Pulling you in to press another kiss to your forehead, uncaring of the eyes watching. As if noting everyone treated you slightly different for the things occurring with you, except for Jon. The only one treating you without looking at you with a degree of unsettled weariness about being around you. “Come. Let’s get you fed, so we can get him fed.” Gesturing down to the bundle moving in your arms as he had found more ease in sleepiness between you and Jons warmth so close.

Hesitating, you bit your tongue before letting it slip out. “I’m not sure I’m up for being around everyone else tonight.” Jon however, only smiled further turning you to circle the table near the door.

Pulling you close to mumble in your ear with a tenderness that had you leaning more into him. “Good. I wanted a night between the three of us alone.”

Entering slowly, the early hours of the morning meant few were up and about just yet. It left you good time to make your way, the heft of a blade attached to your side hidden under a warmer shall draped across your upper half from the cold. Gently you had called out to him asking if you could come in, creeping the door open enough to slip in before shutting it once more.

Through the open windows, the sun had not yet arrived to the world and would not for some time you expected. Clouds covered the sky thick and dark, and just as you had awoken yourself did what normally would be snow turn into the pattering of rain against the shutters. A rare event in this cold, but it almost felt as if it created the conditions fair to what was to occur. It was much like another event, one which led back to one man as it always seemed to.

Brans room was coated in a gentle light, and a blueish tint covered the rest as the grey from the sky reflected against the white snow below. Seldom did such rain bother you, Dragonstone and Storm’s End both were nothing but scorching sun or torrential rain. You would walk the halls of your home as a girl to the sounds of rain constantly, it hardly even phased you to go outside in it with nothing to protect. Many times when one was outside, you could stand there one moment then the next great swooping clouds rushed over the skies and poured every inch of rain down for all the Seven Kingdoms all over your head.

Your main watching guard as a girl, Allard, he would joke that he could pick you up and toss you into the sea without warning and you’d be perfectly fine with it. You father always preferred you to stay on the island, but the rare occasion he would leave on business to the captiol, Allard would always take you out into the open water. It would always start raining on the ship, and you loved it.

Perhaps it was why you felt few of the nerves now. The calming sound of rainfall soothing something inside long forgotten. Bran was sat up in his bed, but he looked the nervous you expected. Gesturing to the empty side of his bed you asked, “May I sit?”

Nodding, you took a careful seat not to show off the blade just yet. A deep sigh left him before he looked at you in a freely expressed frustration. “I should’ve known about all this already.” Saying his name gently trying to get his attention, Bran only continued over you. “I’m supposed to be able to see things, learn things no one else can. I should’ve put all this together months ago.”

A tender tone on your words, you neither dismissed his doubt nor encouraged it. “You had what? A year and a half to learn what you did? Why should you be expected to know how to see what you didn’t know happened, if you’ve only just started?” Looking down from you in doubt, you continued without giving him a chance to form an excuse against himself. “I’ve been the closest one to all of this for over five years and I only just put it together when you did after knowing for what? Days?”

Doubt shined in his eyes, but something akin to hope almost flashed across them when he met your gaze once more. “You had other things to worry about.” Quick as anything with a smallish smile, did you point out so did he. It drew but a breath of a laugh out, but it was something. Better then the narrow eyed self doubt you came to fix. “When I woke up, and my mother was gone. I was upset about my legs, but also beacuse she wasn’t there. I was angry for a while after that, and no one ever told me why she was gone.”

It wasn’t untrue. Robb and yourself both knew leaving Bran in Winterfell with that information wouldn’t have been good for him in that time. Only telling him the plain truth that she had left to protect the family from something just like what was happening at that time with his father and sisters. Your hands tensed for a moment, putting the thought away. The version of the woman you wanted to think of, whether or not Bran or Sansa should ever learn of the later as Arya was forced to witness. “She could barley bring herself to leave your bedside. For any reason. That catspaw attacking her that night to get to you? It made her move fast. She wanted to be with you when you woke up, but she needed to find out who was trying to hurt you more. Many times she wanted to go back to you and Rickon but the war always got in the way. She never stopped wanting to come home to you.”

Not quite a smile came over Brans face, but it was something perhaps fond enough that it eased the pain inside of him. Fifteen he was now, and yet as he looked up at you again did you just see the innocent face of the boy of ten you left him as. His voice too finding itself dropped deeper but yet still had an air of innocence that you felt relieved still lived somewhere inside what he’d seen and been through. “He’s tried to kill you more then he has me, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t care more about that.”

A raise of an eyebrow sat with an air of playful, despite your dry tone. “I’ve died once, and more men then Petyr Baelish alone have tried to have me killed. Eventually, you become numb to it. Besides,” Pushing back and smoothing out some of Brans messier hair from sleep, the gesture felt something comforting Bran hadn’t had since before his fall. “The night it happened, you were ten, unconscious and crippled. I’ve always been able to at least try and fight back. You were a child, and you couldn’t protect yourself no matter what. You can make an argument for attempting to kill a political rival, you cannot make any for murdering a child.”

The only sound between you both for a moment was the small crackling of fire inside the room and rain against the stone outside, until you found the words to speak it. “I have something for you.” Not saying anything, Bran watched as you pulled it carefully from under your shall.

The cover against it, the entire thing was doused in gold and gems, the black dragon bone handle its only standing out contrast as you carefully placed it in Brans now outstretched hands. Slowly he pulled it open, the metal shining even here, designs traced down the middle in symbols which were not quite writing, but images and patterns meaning nothing now. “How did he even get something like this?”

Your head tilted a bit with a shift near a wince. “I’m not so certain I want to know. A man with no morals and a penchant for influencing powerful people. My guess would be not in a fair manner.”

Bran looked it over the same way you did, something so ornate that it was the very reason such a drastic search for the truth was made. Someone only higher in status could possibly have given the man the dagger, and it painted a grand conspiracy around it. And you had no doubt he did it on purpose. Bran seemed to find the same conclusion. “He said he lost it to Tyrion Lannister in a bet?” You nodded in a confirm. “Do you think he lost on purpose? Planned all the way then to frame him?”

Biting your tongue in thought, you could see something like that. “It’s possible. Always would plot very far ahead, perhaps he didn’t know exactly what he was going to frame him for, but one of his spies told him about your fall and that opportunity seemed too perfect to pass. Everything was already set into place without him even needing to interfere.” Both of you looked at the other in wonder, but those details almost didn’t even truly matter. How he planned what mattered less now, and would matter none in a few hours.

Looking down to the blade, his brows furrowed again. “Are you sure you want me to have this?”

Your smile formed instantly, again such an innocent look on his face as he asked. “I am. You can do what you wish with it, keep it as a reminder that you have more then one way to fight back even as you are now. Make sure you can protect yourself before Summer is almost too late.” It was a strange thing to grin over, but both of you did. Adding one more however, you knew this was the far more important reason. “Besides, the blade is Valyrian Steel. It the worst comes for us, for you and theres no one else there? This might be the one thing that could save your life easily. It can actually withstand their weapons and-”

“And kill them.”

Repeating it back firmly, you moved to let his hand curl around the handle more as if to prompt him to keep it close. “Most of us have ways to protect ourselves here, we know dragonglass works against wights and whatnot, now you have a weapon that can do both.”

Thinking for a moment, Brans face twisted in doubt. “You and Arya don’t have anything Valyrian Steel.” Clarifying that Arya and yourself both know how to fight with more then just dragonglass, Bran laughed a little. “I always wanted to be a Knight of the Kingsuard. Who knew you and my sister would be able to fight way more then I can by now.”

Nodding moreso to himself in general, your tone unknowingly echoed one told the same to Arya who posed the same sort of upset over it for Bran years ago. “You can do far more then need to fight. Men who aren’t fighters have done great things before. Rule as Lords of a Holdfast, sit on a Kings council. Who knows, one day you might even build castles, like Bran the Builder.” That one got a better smile from him. Leaning forward you caught his eye. “You’re worth more then your legs, Bran. More then whatever ability you’ve come into. You’ll always be a Stark first.”

It was just as your hand made contact with the door handle when he called your name. Half turning back, something more troubled sat on his face. “What were you doing last night? When you had that vision?”

Hesitating, you at the minimum could count on one hand whom would not look at you as if you were mad for it, and thankfully, Bran was at the top of that small list. Your eyes narrowed however as you answered. “Nothing. It happened completely out of nowhere...you weren’t-”

Shaking his head no, Bran knew your ask but he was nowhere close to contributing to it he was sure. Both of you looked at each other before you shook your head. Assuring it probably didn’t mean anything before telling him when to make way to the courtyard, Bran clearly didn’t believe it didn’t mean anything, nor did he think it was a mere strange one off occurrence.

And neither did you.

The rain had yet to let up. It poured as an echo of the last time you stood in a spot just like this, and how it wrapped around to the same man. Petyr Baelish was not responsible for Torrhen Karstark’s death, but his manipulation of Catelyn had led to a spiralling of events leading to a moment similar to now. Whereas then you had been in the courtyard of Riverrun at the side of Robb.

Rickard Karstark had been walked out into the clearing in a calm silence, he and Robb both spoke firmly but without any franticness or even denial of what was to come. The man understood this was to happen and had accepted it with everything left in him. The rain poured down on you all in that day too, making the morning sky appear dark like the eve as it matched how all felt.

You would never forget that day, you never had. You hated to think back on it, the way it was truly a curse. An omen cast upon Robb which came true so shortly after it was shocking. As if he predicted it in his final moments. The only anger he showed in those final minutes did Robb ask if he would speak a final word. Rickard Karstark had looked Robb up in the eye and spat out with nothing but a hatred in his soul.

Robb had brought his sword down in anger of his own. For everything he had done with the wrongs around him, he was still told he was no longer worthy of the title bestowed upon him by his own men for nothing but who he proved himself to be as a man.

Yes Catelyn had released Jaime Lannister, and it was treason. Robb nor you ever denied that. Instead of acting a boy showing her sympathy for her plight it was for the girls, Robb spoke low to her condemning her for what she had done. His own mother was all but a prisoner for the remainder of her life for what she had done. Robb loved his mother and she knew that, but she also knew why he treated her that way and did not fight it. And Rickard Karstark had heard you plain as day when you revealed that she had been manipulated by Petyr Baelish to do this. And he blamed her for his woes anyways.

Those boys. No older then Bran was now. Willem and Martyn Lannister. Two good, innocent boys who did their duties as squires and were not the enemy for their name alone. You had promised them mercy and they had died thinking you a liar when they were dragged from their cells in the middle of the night and murdered. And Rickard Karstark had blamed Catelyn, felt nothing towards those two dead boys, and insulted both Robb and Ned Stark in one breath.

What would have happened if Jaime Lannister had never been set free? Only the gods know for sure, but you knew it traced right back to him. It felt as if it always did. A shadow following the ones you love, a plague slowly infecting each of you drip by drip. For who was left of the Starks, it made sense it was whom it was here to witness.

He tried to murder Bran, he had used and manipulated Sansa for years, and his betrayal in Kings Landing was what sent Arya on the run in the first place. Had he never betrayed him that day, she wouldn’t have had to run from the Red Keep and she never would’ve spent years without even so much as a roof over her head to call any kind of home.

It however, felt almost ironic. The one Stark not named so, the one he had never actually plotted against so directly, that was to be his final opponent. Jon had never been but a tool to him, a name to drop when needing to manipulate the right people and nothing more. He had been looked down on and forgotten as unimportant and yet he was Littlefingers final judgment.

Where Brandon Stark had shown mercy, where Ned Stark had wished he didn’t, where Robb never even had the chance to try. It was the bastard he couldn’t care less about which was the one who would stand before him this time. Eyes glancing to the crowd, covering him quite comfortably as she held him close you met your mothers eyes. The first she had truly seen anything of you in years, after thinking you were gone was the day you were the one with the sword heading towards the block.

She had hardly recognized that side of you then, and she barley did now. The roughness of a life she hardly understood, but stood there in the crowd with the rest. Beside Maege Mormont, near Ser Yohn Royce who stood in a watchful silence. Not so far from Tormund who watched almost with a curiosity of the finality of events which to him were vastly over complicated. It felt something, that so many stood here one in the same in the pouring rain.

If anything, perhaps it gave just the slightest bit of hope. That perhaps not all was lost and Jon was uniting people more then he understood. Without him no one would truly be here this way, and maybe the rest of the cause was not entirely lost.

Those somewhat behind where the four of you stood parted a bit as Jon approached. Dark eyes even darker then normal. A tenseness in his muscles and clench in his jaw, he took not a moment of this lightly you knew. Not for a second did he consider anything but giving this every honour and respect that most would never grant Littlefinger for what he had done.

Approaching Sansa as she stood beside you, a hand came to brace against her upper arm comfortingly. Jon’s voice was no less rough as he clearly appeared to feel. “Are you sure you want to be here for this? You don’t have to.”

A darker scowl had been etched into her face the entire time thus far, but she had been silent and still when she took her spot. Unlike yourself, she and Arya both had hoods hiding them from the rain whereas you simply allowed it to drain around you. Vaguely you could see her eyes flicker over to Arya and Bran before finding Jons again with a stern confidence. “I need to be here.”

Watching for a moment, Jon seemed to wait to see if doubt flashed across his little sisters eyes and found none. Flickering his gaze to you, no words needed to be said in your case. He read you as you did him. You had hardly any time being home, and neither of you had a chance to breathe. You both felt as ragged as you had for months in the far north.

You both knew this would not be a solution to everything wearing you down, but you did trust in Jon when he reassured you that it would be enough. Give you a chance to breath like you so desperately needed. No doubt much was coming in the near future, but Jon was adamant. He had what of his family left there was, and he needed to mend the remainders of those broken bridges between them.

But also, Jon needed to breathe beacuse he needed a chance with you. With the baby. Jon felt as if he was hardly being given a moment to be a father, to be a family with you and he needed it. You needed him, and he needed you and your son needed you both. And the looming eyes of one man had been getting firmly in the way of that. Jon needed you to trust him that it was going to be alright, because he needed you to know that he would take care of you.

Stark blood ran through his veins, but those here now calling themselves Snow needed time to each other and never truly had you had that since bringing the baby into the world. Jon never had that with his mother, and thus you wanted the three of you together to have it no matter what.

Theon on one side and Benjen on the other, it was a symbol that this wasn’t justice alone. This was truly a matter of family in uniting for this act. He had spoken somewhat, but you hardly heard a single word of it. As if suddenly the rain poured so heavily overtop of you that it deafened voices into nothing. He had looked to the girl beside you, his voice speaking but only could you make out the form of the plead of “Sansa,”.

You did not know if she said something, or nothing. He had no response to either possibility, but Theon and Benjen tossed him roughly to his knees, head over the block. Jons stood, hair pulled back, fur adorning his shoulders making him look that much more intimidating with his black eyes staring down. The hilt of Longclaw sat on the ground as both of his hands sat across the top with a patience.

You could see the words on Jons lips, and you could sense despite the tense nature of his entire demeanour, he spoke with a low rasping respect. You knew what words came from him, reading as if that was all your senses had. “If you have any last words my lord, now’s the time.”

But the rain was so loud it grew and grew. It blotted out the light peeking through the dark grey clouds and blackened around you. The rain grew muffled in that darkness but you saw not Petyr Baelish in your eyes unblinking sights.

Rain poured, and with few witnesses in the courtyard of Riverrun, you could recall seeing eyes looking towards you with a hatred that this was your fault. It was his father and he would be the only son remaining once it was done, and you knew somewhere along the way, he held guilt for what happened to you, and too maybe, what happened to Rickon. You didn’t know how but you knew why, and you saw the same anger in his eyes as you did in his fathers.

For all that had led up to getting here, you saw none of it. Your eyes had painted over white, and in the dark scene of pouring rain none had noticed until it was finished. All you could see or hear was what felt like the Sight trying to tell you something, but Bran had watched the execution in front of him. This was not his doing, whatever this was, was trying to speak to you alone. But you didn’t know what they wanted. You were supposed to bear witness to the final moments of Petyr Baelish’s life, but all you could hear was the spitting anger of Rickard Karstark on that day in Riverrun.

“Kill me and be cursed. You are no King of mine.”

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