#or any way to find the rest of the series

[pixiepipedreams]

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — intrusive thoughts, tied up in knots, by the concept of us // in-ho x reader x gi-hun

♡  ⁄  pairing: in-ho x reader x gi-hun ♡  ⁄  warnings & tags: fem!reader, canon-typical violence & death, obsessive behavior, lying/manipulation, age gap (reader is 20-22, in-ho & gi-hun are late 40s, early 50s) ♡  ⁄ wordcount: 6.9k ♡  ⁄ summary: the second vote holds no promises for a brighter future, and both in-ho and gi-hun find themselves contemplating the ever intriguing player 132. THIS IS PART THREE OF A SERIES! (➊) (➋)

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

In-ho had dedicated his youth to policing the criminals of Seoul, and he has seen the balance of human nature. He had been devoted to fighting the good fight, keeping the criminal population in line, dealing with drunks and abusers and the worst of the worst. He’d never done anything unjust, never used unnecessary force, but still, he’d been tossed to the curb in his hour of need, falsely accused of accepting bribes. Like clay, the cruel hands of the universe shaped him into what he needed to become to survive. The games had been both a blessing and a curse, a way to fight back, to save his wife and unborn child.

None of it had mattered. Every sacrifice was just another digit pressed into his moldable form, so slow and sure that he hadn’t even noticed the difference until he’d received the invitation from Il-nam to front the games. It had felt like a reclamation, a saving grace, a way to hide from the misery of his life as a widower, from the disgust he felt with an uncaring world. When choosing between the lesser of two evils, he chose the more black and white option - give one or two pieces of gum on the bottom of the country’s shoe a chance to unstick themselves and reform, while the rest get tossed and burned like the trash that they are. Like everyone is.

That’s what you should have been.

Another piece of gum, debris, a bag of trash rotting on the side of the road. Another inconsequential player, another layer of scum on this waste of a planet. But at every turn, you surprised him. The optimism in your view of life, the intelligence in your eyes, the strength that you carried even in fear. You pointed out flaws in Gi-hun’s arguments, you challenged In-ho just by existing. He should hate it. He should want to corrupt you, bring you down to his depths of apathy and revulsion with the world.

In a way, he does.

Player 132. (Y/N). You were an unexpected factor in his mission, made all the worse by the fact that you bear the same number he did in 2015. Every flicker of feeling that you cause in him is only accentuated by the closeness the games force the players into, the camaraderie between those meant to be competitors. Despite himself, he feels that same union with his team, as well, celebrating the victories of every passing team in the Pentathlon.

Weakness. Human connection. One that he can work in his favor, a flaw to exploit.

That’s what he pretends the victorious feeling in his chest means while they return to the dorms, but even he can’t deny the high of winning as a team. His sabotage had only made it more delicious that they all made it out alive, and the adrenaline still buzzes in his veins, better than any glass of whiskey.

Your hands fidget nervously as you stare at the player count, wondering how much longer it could be before you find out if Young-il, Gi-hun, and player 222 made it out alive. The bed you sit on is closest to the open concrete floor, and you feel on edge, ready to jump and run at a moment’s notice. The rest of your team is more tucked into the tighter enclosure the bunkbeds make, conversing about the games. Where are they?

“Hey,” player 120 says, her voice soft and assuring, calling for your attention. “132. You surprised me out there. It was really… impressive, honestly. You sure you’ve never played Spinning Top before?”

You look over, smiling faintly, your leg jittering as it bounces in place. “I’ve never played it. Well - in America, we have tops, but you just spin it from the axle. No twine. I guess I just… had a good teacher.”

007 laughs, but covers it quickly with a cough. His mother whacks him on the chest, then turns to you with kind eyes. “Are you and player 001 close? He doesn’t seem like the… helping sort.”

You tilt your head, surprised by the observation. But you can understand it - when Young-il isn’t engaged in conversation, he shows little to no emotion, carries a coldness that seems impenetrable. “We’ve talked,” you say vaguely. “He promised to help me with any games that I don’t quite understand. Since I wasn’t raised here.” You clear your throat, feeling oddly embarrassed, like you’re admitting to some deep secret crush, even though you’ve done nothing of the sort. “What are your guys’ names? So I have something to call you besides a detached number.”

The group goes around sharing names, and you commit them to memory. Whatever the outcome of these games, you refuse to forget any of them. Perhaps it would be too big of a burden to remember everyone’s name who’s already died, would haunt you until your own end, but it feels like a bigger sin to not know at all.

Light discussion starts, easy joking, but you can’t focus, your eyes flicking from the group to the door as you wait endlessly. Where are they?

When his team returns to the dorms, In-ho’s eyes instantly find you, a locked missile on target. You’re sitting near your team, but still separate, disengaged. Another curiosity - despite your disposition, and your apparent friendly nature, you keep yourself apart. Perhaps you recognize the truth he’s accepted long ago - despite any kinship one might feel with a person, or a group, everyone is on their own at the end of the day. Family, friends, coworkers, passing acquaintances, they all fall away to serve their own needs. It takes you less than a second to meet his eyes, and his stomach clenches at the way you instantly relax, sheer relief etched into the line of your posture. He’s not foolish enough to assign his own reaction to unease.

He gives you the tentative smile that Young-il would give, but his eyes are dark. Whatever cocktail you stir inside him, he knows that your own reaction to him is much simpler. Attraction, maybe. Comfort, certainly. Why him, of all people, instead of Gi-hun, or that player, 120, that you’d spoken to before, he can’t begin to comprehend. Is his mask that good, his performance so inviting? No, it’s not quite that. He needs to dig into your mind, unravel the knots into understanding. Perhaps the knots are his own.

He follows his team with a sense of purpose, duty, forcing himself to look away and your warm, relieved smile, that churning in his mind feeling so out of place in the typically still waters of his mind. As they sit, he shakes his head, focusing on the group, his team.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know what happened,” he says, infusing a sheepish embarrassment into his words, his hands clenching the metal of the bench as his shoulders tuck forward.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dae-ho says quickly, his voice overlapping with Gi-hun’s own assurance.

“What happened earlier?”

In-ho’s spine straightens on instinct at the sound of your voice, and he forces himself to relax, looking up, oddly surprised to see you step up to their group. He shouldn’t be. His eyes trace over you, as if checking for wounds, even though he saw you escape earlier entirely unscathed. Your hair is a bit messy, the grease of not showering settling in, and your hands are shoved into your pockets, an infused nonchalance to the posture. You make a concerted effort to look at everyone in the group before your eyes land on In-ho.

His mouth goes dry.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Jung-bae says with a small grin, always playful and easing the tension. “Big bad number one over here just struggled on his game. We made it out, though! So nothing to worry about.”

“If he hadn’t helped me in Jegi with the final kick, we never would’ve made it,” Gi-hun adds, a trace of his old smile on his lips, trying to comfort whatever tension in him that he’s sensing.

Your eyes narrow, searching In-ho, in a different manner than he just analyzed you. Like you know something. That intelligence you hide behind easy smiles flashes in full force, but then it’s gone, any concerns or comments you had not even reaching your throat. “I’m glad you all made it,” you say finally, smiling, and your eyes flick to player 222. “Especially you.”

She meets your gaze, a quiet appreciation in her expression. She nods her head slightly, unable to express her true gratitude, and that’s another thing that In-ho doesn’t wish to think about. The pregnant player. Another barnacle on the world’s ship, but perhaps the way he closed off his feelings after the passing of his wife had left some backdoors open for unwanted sympathy. He refuses to wonder about what the outcome would be if his wife had entered the games instead of him, refuses to imagine her in this place, founded on cruelty and equality.

She would have died either way. There’s no reason to wonder, to feel the sick twist in his gut.

In-ho rocks in place, unable to tell if it’s the surge of his own undesired emotions or the act of Young-il that causes it. “222, are you doing alright?” he asks, but doesn’t care. He doesn’t.

“Yeah. Thank you all for including me on your team,” she replies with a slight bow of her head, and In-ho catches a soft smile on your lips, likely comforted by the fact that you genuinely helped her.

“She smashed that ddakji and flipped it on her first try!” Jung-bae adds, grinning. 222 ducks her head, hiding a proud smile. “And for a pregnant lady, you were fast, too. We were lucky she joined our team.” His eyes flick to you, and In-ho clenches his jaw briefly. There’s too much ease in Jung-bae’s words, in every conversation, and he finds it grating - both with Gi-hun and you. In-ho’s eyes flick to Gi-hun, his own expression dry of any emotion or reaction.

Gi-hun is already looking at you.

He hadn’t heard the conversation the two of you had last night, too far away at the time, but he had watched. Observed. Even not knowing what passed between the pair, he knew that some sort of understanding had been reached, that you hadn’t taken your eyes off him for a moment.

That earlier, when you brought the pregnant woman to his team, you’d looked at Gi-hun first.

The conversation continues, and In-ho laughs in all the right moments, in the bond over the victory, but he keeps you in his line of vision. When Dae-ho stands next to you, his eyes land on the distance between you both, a sour feeling in his gut, like bile.

“Perhaps we should learn each other’s names. I still don’t know any of your names. I’ll start.” He gives his name, and its meaning. Huge tiger. In-ho suppresses a laugh - which is an odd feeling. Laughter doesn’t come easily to him anymore, and fighting to keep it down is unfamiliar. Jung-bae gives his next, because of course he does.

When player 222 offers hers - Kim Jun-hee, a name that instantly gets engraved in his mind - he can’t seem to help the words bubbling from his lips. “Jun-hee, when we get out of here, you should head straight to a hospital. You’ve been under a lot of stress. You need to get yourself checked out.”

“Okay,” she replies softly.

“I’m Oh Young-il,” In-ho adds, tossing his false name into the ring. Amusement rises in his chest - it’s likely that no one will look too closely at his name, or assume he’s lying, but he’d been rather proud of the joke of it all. Right down to the last detail, of taking Il-nam’s family name. Flying right under Gi-hun’s nose.

“Young-il?” Jung-bae repeats, arching a brow.

“Yes. ‘Young-il’ sounds like ‘zero one,’ and that’s my number,” he explains with a playful smile, his finger pointing to the patch on his chest. His eyes meet yours, catching the way they narrow. It would make sense that you hadn’t put the pun together yourself, and he gets the cold feeling that you’re suspicious of him. You, of all people. It isn’t that you come off as naive, but you had trusted him so easily last night, allowing him to sit with his hand in your hair as you fell asleep. He had assumed you didn’t see through his manipulations, the strings he pulled in the world of these games.

The group shares a laugh over his name, but not you. You arch a brow, smiling, but with that sharp look in your eyes. “The gamemakers must have a sense of humor,” you murmur wryly, but that coldness spreads in his body. Everyone else chuckles, but In-ho knows there’s more to your statement.

And he realizes there might be even more to you than he thought.

“And you?” he asks quickly, looking to Gi-hun. “Your full name, I mean. I only know you as Gi-hun.” Another lie, so little in comparison to the rest.

“Oh, right, um… Seong Gi-hun is my full name,” he replies quietly, eyes flicking between In-ho and you. Curious.

“Seong - that literally means last name, doesn’t it?” he asks, feeling almost nervous. It’s not the right word, but the strange tightness in his chest can’t seem to be described any other way. He laughs, his chuckles rolling off him through the anxious energy, at his own bad joke.

Nobody else laughs, but there’s a flicker of amusement in your expression. “Like our ‘un-Seong hero’?” you add, voice laced with humor as you speak in English for the first time in his presence. He laughs harder, not expecting the cheesy joke from your lips, and you laugh too.

Such a delightful sound. Something bright and sweet, like the sky on a cloudless day in a past that’s long gone. There’s a couple chuckles in the group, but nobody laughs as much as the two of you do. Somehow, you make him feel like Young-il, the man he used to be, and In-ho, the man he’s become, the man he’s always been underneath it all.

The doors open, guards filing in, and the joviality of the room quiets, stills. Any small relief that the groups have managed to find after escaping the last game with their lives dissipates. You tear your eyes away from Young-il, your mind churning, twisting over the information, but it’s hard to stay focused on his potential deceptions with the gut-dropping recognition of the button being wheeled in.

“Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game.” The head guard stands in the center of the group of pink-clad soldiers, the rigid square on his face an indicator of his rank. The lights turn off, the now-familiar glow of golden light shining down on them as the pig takes the spotlight above their heads. “Here are the results of the second game. In the second game, 110 players were eliminated.” The familiar chiptune plays as the bank above everyone's head fills with bundles of won, counting the bodies that had been bloodily removed from the schoolyard scene of the last game. “The prize money accumulated up to this point is 20.1 billion won. Since there are 255 players remaining, each person’s share is 78,823,530 won.”

Uproar. People start shouting out complaints, the ‘O's growing restless at the realization that even with so many dead, the split of the prize pool isn't enough. Even for you, that amount isn’t enough to settle your father’s debts and pay his medical bills.

In-ho has to hide a smirk, even as something inside him clenches. Just as expected, desperate greed wins over the lives of the people whose blood invisibly stains the prize pool. He eyes Gi-hun, who stares around the room, cataloguing the people complaining with barely disguised loathing. Gi-hun, who has never been able to look past the cost of all that money to see the freedom it grants. In-ho can hardly judge. He’s barely touched his own money, after all.

“I completely understand your disappointment. However, we always keep the door open for you to pursue new opportunities. You will now take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not. Whether to continue the games for a bigger prize or to stop here is entirely your choice. Please feel free to exercise your right to choose in a democratic manner.” The guard’s voice is clinical, rehearsed, and a sick feeling twists at your gut. Just how many games have there been? How many times has he said these exact words?

And the implication slams into you, the easy manipulation of the words. The vote hasn’t even happened yet, and you already know the outcome. Desperation, self-preservation. Nobody is leaving the games today.

“I should go,” you say softly, as the crowd accumulates at the edge of the glowing ‘X’ and ‘O’ separation on the ground. You give a slight bow of your head, turning to leave, feeling displaced, uneasy.

“Wait, (Y/N),” Gi-hun says, halting you in your tracks. Your eyes flick to him, widening. “Stick with our team. You said you, uh, you wanted to fight by… by our side, last night, didn’t you?”

Lips parting, you can’t seem to take your eyes off his face. That wasn’t quite what you said, but based on his shifty expression, he knows that. You said you wanted to fight by his side. The invitation still surprises you, but underneath that surprise is a warmth at being included, at him asking you to stay. You nod, smiling a little. “I would appreciate that, thank you. And, if it’s at all possible, if… if we end up staying for another game, I’d like for us to try and keep an eye out for the team that kept me alive today.” If. You don’t want to crush their spirits with the foresight you currently hold.

Gi-hun’s eyes soften, smiling just a little, but it feels like a victory. You find yourself craving more of that smile, to see the full force that used to come easily to him, if the lines of his face are anything to go by. “We’ll do our best,” he replies, his voice just as soft as those eyes. He must be a very kind man. You get a little lost, looking at him, at the lingering cloak of who he once was. "We have to end the games here,” he adds, turning to the group. “I will help you all with my winnings from the first game when we get out. Please trust me, and vote to leave.”

“Don’t worry,” Young-il adds, eyes locked on Gi-hun. “I want to stop here too. I should go.”

“Yeah,” Gi-hun says, his eyes softening as he looks back at Young-il. “You should be with your wife at the hospital.”

And then you freeze. Wife. Your lips stay closed, but your eyes widen a fraction, feeling a horrible sense of disappointment that takes you by surprise. It shouldn’t be shocking, you should have suspected it, seen the train coming at you full force. He’s twice your age, it makes sense for him to be married - hell, Gi-hun probably has a wife too.

Young-il’s frozen too, and his eyes slowly slide to meet yours from the side. His expression is unreadable, and he doesn’t respond for a moment, his lips parting. Then he looks back at Gi-hun, giving a smile that seems a little tight around the edges. “I’ve been away too long,” he responds quietly, agreeing.

The group chatters, quickly agreeing to all vote to leave. Deep in your gut, you know it’s not enough. But you’re not thinking about that, not in this moment. You’re thinking about Young-il’s hands on yours, guiding you through the motions of spinning an invisible top. You’re thinking about him cradling you to his chest, of the details of his face that you don’t dare to look at now. And you come to the realization that you’re well and truly fucked.

“Guys, all huddle up again,” Dae-ho calls, drawing your attention to him. He’s much easier to focus on than Young-il or Gi-hun. He juts his hand out, arm rigid and straight, into the center of the group. Everyone lays their hands on Dae-ho’s, and you hesitate, before setting yours down last. It’s strange, being a part of a group. “In one, two, three. Victory at all costs!”

“Victoryat all costs!” You all call back.

The voting is in reverse order, this time. Young-il doesn’t hesitate before pressing the ‘X’, but there are a few surprises - namely, two of your old teammates pressing ‘O’. But you can’t blame them. Even with Gi-hun’s offer to pay off your group’s debts, you don’t know what to pick. Hyun-ju hasn’t received that same offer, nor has Young-sik.

Player after player gets called up, but it’s obvious early on that your vote alone won’t matter. Even if every ‘O’ on your team switches, even if Young-sik and Hyun-ju had voted differently, it wouldn’t be enough.

“Player 132.”

Your body trembles, but your feet move automatically, not sparing a glance for Gi-hun or Young-il. When you reach the buttons, you stare down at the glowing red and blue domes, unblinking. It doesn’t matter, does it? What button you press? You already know the outcome. You feel a horrible guilt at the idea of taking Gi-hun’s money, just another stack soaked in blood. The money floating above you may be no different, but at least it’s from your competition - the cost of your own survival, not his.

You press ‘X’. It won’t be a close vote, not by a longshot, so your ‘X’ serves no purpose other than to prove to Gi-hun that you stand with him. Your mind is still detached as you step to the red side, standing next to Young-il but refusing to look at him.

He leans closer to you, heat prickling at your skin from his proximity. “(Y/N),” he murmurs. You bite the inside of your cheek, not reacting. You feel ridiculous, like the little kid you haven’t been in so many years right now, crushing on a married guy. It isn’t his fault. Maybe he felt protective of you, just because you’re only in your 20s. He never actually did anything untoward.

His hand in your hair, stroking it until you fell asleep. Comforting, safe, but not wrong.

The blue crowd cheers on their side - another recruit to continue the games. He sighs softly, settling a hand on your arm. Your body jolts, despite yourself, a zing running through you, your eyes flicking up to meet his despite yourself. “I–”

“Excuse me, everyone!” Gi-hun’s voice rings out across the room, taking command of it. Your breath catches, head turning to stare at him as he walks toward the center. Ever since the first game, he’s been magnetic, unignorable. Young-il’s hand tightens on your arm, then drops, and he suddenly steps forward before Gi-hun can make it to the open space.

“Are you all out of your minds?” Young-il shouts, sending a shiver through you. Your eyes flick to him, stunned. “You still want to keep going after watching all those people die? Who’s to say you won’t die in the next game? We have to stop. We’ll all die if we keep going! Come to your senses, and leave with that money.”

You feel like you’re waiting for something - maybe the guards to step in, to shout that interruptions to the voting process aren’t allowed, for one of them to press a gun to Young-il’s head. But it doesn’t come.

Players from the ‘O’ side step up to argue, including the detestable player 100. But your eyes drift back to Gi-hun, watching him watch Young-il. Touched isn’t the right word, but Young-il joining him in protesting the continuation of these sadistic games definitely affects him. Gi-hun’s eyes are huge, relieved, to not be fighting for this alone. Awe doesn’t fit any better, but it’s the only thing your mind comes up with.

“If we play one more game, the prize will be at least 240 million!”

For some reason you cannot decipher, it’s Gi-hun’s expression that pushes you to step forward, into the aisle. “And if you die?” you say, your words sharp, eyes flicking to player 043, who had just spoken. “Almost a third of the players died in this last game. What makes you think you’re special enough to make it out? You’re all cowards, just hoping as many people as possible die. You’re not fucking invincible - everyone here has the same odds of getting out. Do you feel so lucky? There’s 255 of us left - if another 110 die, that’s almost half of us. 50/50 odds - a coin flip. Heads, you win - tails, you’re gone forever, and you’ll be the one who dug that grave.”

Silence, for just a moment. Then, player 095 - Young-mi, you remind yourself, Young-mi - sobs, tears streaming down her face, pleading with the other players to not continue these games. Pity wrenches through your gut, and again, you wonder what someone so fragile could have done to end up here. How she ever called the number on that business card after being slapped by the recruiter. You find yourself unable to look at her, your eyes finding Gi-hun’s once more. Something akin to dread builds in his expression, but there’s a quiet gratitude laying under the surface.

Young-il steps between you two, eyes locking on yours for just a moment before scanning the crowded ‘O’ side.

“If you die here, your family won’t even get your body. Then it’d be the end for you and your family! Don’t you see?” Young-il shouts, but the ‘O’s are beyond hearing. Their arguments are solid enough, but they refuse to acknowledge on thing - that every single one of them is praying that as many people as possible will die, besides themselves. It doesn’t take long for them to start up a chant, mob mentality kicking in, spreading like an airborne virus.

“One more game! One more game!”

A chill runs through you. Those words were exactly what you had thought during the first vote. One more. Just one more.

The vote continues, digital numbers climbing higher and higher, and you can’t bear to watch. Knowing the way something ends is much different from watching it all happen. Will you survive one more? And what about the one after that? There’s little chance that the vote will turn back to your team’s favor - at least, not while player 100 is alive. 10 billion won owed… that man won’t rest until there’s at least only four players left, splitting the prize into 11.4 billion per person.

Gi-hun’s posture is slumped in the glow of his red vote, and your heart aches for him. He’s a good man, you know it deep in your soul. How a man like that could possibly win such cruel games is beyond you. And to be the only one to make it out alive…

Your feet take you to his side before your mind catches up. “Gi-hun,” you murmur, your hand grabbing his wrist. He goes still, statuesque, but you persist. “Please, can we… can we talk?”

A few breaths pass, but he nods, turning to you, his wrist slipping from your hand. He looks down at his arm, then his eyes meet yours. He feels… strange. It’s the same tightness in his chest as he felt earlier, when you approached his team with Jun-hee in tow. There was no guarantee that his team would do better than any other, especially since he hadn’t known the game going in. But the look in your eyes as they met his, a desperate edge to them, but not desperate on your own behalf… it had stunned him into silence. He wasn’t able to speak. It wasn’t the desperation, but the sheer trust that affected him so. You had trusted him with two lives, neither one of them your own. He’s not worthy of that trust. Every life that has been entrusted to his care, with the exception of two, has met a violent end. Both you and Young-il, so firm in your belief of him. He wants to apologize now, for not speaking up when you asked for his help. But what could he say? He can’t explain his reaction, the stunned twist of his chest the way he’d been trapped in your gaze. The way his mind had fit the puzzle pieces into place to paint a clear picture of his understanding of your character.

Your eyes are wide, intense as they meet his. “What is it?” he asks quietly, his brows furrowing, his lips set in the frown he’s worn for years now. “Are you alright?”

You huff out a breath, nodding, the intensity never leaving your expression. “Yes, but… Well. I had a few questions,” you say slowly, your expression pinching, as though you’re holding something back.

“A few questions,” he repeats dumbly, rubbing at his wrist, still feeling the warmth of your hand. He hasn’t been touched, not gently, in years now. “About?”

You swallow, and his eyes follow the bob of your throat, chest seizing with that strange tightness. “About… about your games. If you don’t mind. I know it’s a hard subject, but… We need to plan ahead, to think more about how this will all play out.” He just gives you a blank stare. Faintly, he feels himself nod for you to continue. “At this point in the games, how… how many people were left, in yours?”

Gi-hun’s brows furrow, and he tries to think, beyond the blood splatters on the playground scene, beyond the sounds of gunshots, beyond his tongue desperately working to melt the sugar honeycomb candy. “About 100,” he says finally, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“Oh, wow,” you mutter, eyes flicking up to the board. “So… 155 less than we have now. You really must have saved a lot of people this time around, interfering in that first game.”

His eyes squeeze shut for just a moment, remembering the weight of a body pinning him to the ground, after the first death caused a stampede of people attempting to escape. But… but you’re right. So many more people died in his first Red Light, Green Light game. “And?” he asks tiredly, rubbing his forehead, trying to focus on this room, not that giant field filled with blood. To not remember revisiting it later, when it was empty, with only one opponent. Sang-woo. He flinches, tries to cover it with a cough, but when his eyes meet yours, he can tell he wasn’t fooling you.

“Sorry, it’s just… Well, it’s impressive. You’ve given more people a chance, here.” You cross your arms, shoulders hunching up, but your eyes don’t leave his. “They said it was new, allowing the players to vote after every round. You didn’t have that choice?”

“No… well. If the players called a vote, and the majority decided to leave, then the money would be split among the deceased players’ families. None of the surviving players would get anything. My…” His jaw clenches on reflex, and he shakes his head. “One player called for a vote, after the first game.”

“And everyone chose to stay?” you ask, brow furrowing.

“No… no, actually. We all left. But they gave us the option to return. Most of us did,” he explains quietly, eyes flicking around the room, finding it hard to look at you as he answers the stream of questions, the tightness in his chest only growing.

You pause, taking that in, your breaths even beside him, almost meditative. He peers at you out of the corner of the eye, taking in the contemplative twist of your lips. “Why would they change the rule?” The question stuns him, and he doesn’t have an answer. If anything, it might be because of him. To prove a point. But that feels too self-important to say, to admit that the Front Man may be choosing to play a separate game with him at the cost of hundreds of lives. But you don’t wait for an answer, sucking in a quiet breath. “How many people made it to the final game?”

His eyes flutter shut. “Two. Is that all of your questions?” he asks, voice a bit too sharp, now. Raw emotions threaten to crash over the dam he’d built in his mind. Memories, he can handle. But they don’t exactly have therapy for the kind of trauma he went through, and every emotion goes unsorted.

Silence. Gi-hun opens his eyes, squinting at you, feeling oddly guilty. It’s not your fault, not really. But this isn’t a subject he’s spoken openly about, ever, and he feels like a stripped wire. “Yes, sir,” you mutter, arms tightening across your chest. “I’m just trying to figure out the best way to convince these people to leave. One of them needs 10 billion - that means he won’t rest until there’s only 4 players left. If not less. I’m sure the gamemakers will want to cut the number of players by more than half in the next game, to try and make the final games closer.”

His eyes slowly open more as you speak, surprised by the observations. They’d tickled at the back of his head, but he’d been operating on blind determination this entire time. Analysis has never been his strong suit, though admittedly he’s gotten better at it in the years since his own game. You remind him of…

He bites the inside of his cheek, almost hard enough to draw blood. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice quieting to something softer. “You don’t need to call me sir,” and those words are just blurted out, spilling like a bowl of ramen after too much soju. It’s the last thing that he should have focused on, but it feels wrong, to have you call him something so impersonal. “I’m sorry for being short with you, it’s just that… I don’t speak about that time.” He reaches out, but aborts the motion halfway through, his hand hanging in the air. What the hell is wrong with him? “You say that you think they’ll try to cut the players by more than half?”

You nod, your eyes softening as you look up at him. “We need to keep our team together next round. To keep as many of us alive as we can, but also… because we’re the only votes that can be guaranteed to be ‘X’ next time.”

Resourceful and compassionate. Something inside him aches as he nods, feeling struck dumb. “You said you were a student, didn’t you?” he asks, eyes roaming over your features as you blink back at him.

“Uh… yeah, actually. I spend most of my time studying, to be entirely honest,” you admit, eyeing him curiously. “Why?”

The corners of his lips twist up, a gesture that feels unfamiliar in his life after becoming a billionaire. “Nothing. I can tell, though. I appreciate having your brain to work on this with me.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Is that why you’re here? Student loans?”

You stiffen, eyes widening a fraction, biting your lip. But you nod. “That, and to help my father,” you say vaguely. You have every right to play your cards close to your chest, but he wants them laid out bare, for him to study, learn, understand. The urge terrifies him.

He swallows past the lump in his throat, nodding. Your father. “You shouldn’t be the one bearing your father’s problems,” he mutters. A brief alternate future flashes through his eyes, one where Ga-yeong, as an adult, has to pay his gambling debts, one where he never entered the games. Guilt stabs through him. “What is it? Gambling?”

What he doesn’t expect is the way your expression darkens, your mouth twisting into a frown that doesn’t fit your face. “Housing debts. He hasn’t had a job in a while, and he was never good at holding one down to begin with. Maybe gambling - I haven’t asked.” Your face is pinched, your lips a distractingly cute shape, even in your upset. He feels a bit dizzy, actually, but he shakes it off, feeling an instant aversion for your father. Perhaps it’s because he reminds Gi-hun of who he used to be, who he still could’ve become. “He’s in the hospital,” you add in a hushed tone, but don’t elaborate. He doesn’t want to push you, but he feels a shocking wave of anger. You shouldn’t be here - although he believes that about every person in this room, that nobody deserves to end up in these games, it’s fiercer, more violent when it’s you. Sure, you likely have your own debts as a student, but your father’s incapability shouldn’t be the reason your life is on the line.

“So that’s why you voted to stay after the first game?” he asks, his voice insistent, intense. Angry.

Maybe you think he’s angry at you, because your eyes narrow. “Yes. But I voted ‘X’ this time, didn’t I? Why, is that a problem?”

“He shouldn’t be your responsibility. He should be taking care of you.”

“He’s my father,” you snap back, defensive. “He’s the only person I have in this country, the only parent I have left. I’m not–” You cut yourself off, eyes oddly shiny, and it takes him a moment to realize that you’re tearing up. His mouth opens, then clamps shut, his expression clearing itself of the white-hot anger he’d felt. His hand reaches out, taking your upper arm in his grasp. Right. Your father is in the hospital, and here he is, practically yelling at you for giving a damn, just because it made him uncomfortable to be speaking to someone on the other side of the situation he had been in years ago.

His own mother’s death sits in his chest, unresolved, clumsily compartmentalized along with every other horrible thing he’s had to deal with. The guilt of eternally letting her down, until the very end. Of not even being by her side in her last moments. Of Ga-yeong, thousands of miles away, and the way these games got in the way of everything and everyone he cared about.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, his eyes wide, flicking between your own.

Gi-hun hadn’t said anything that you hadn’t already crossed your mind. Your own guilt feels like lead in the pit of your stomach, Gi-hun’s words mirroring your worst thoughts. His apology stings, a slap to the face. Why should he be sorry? You feel sick. “Whatever, alright? It’s fine.” You rub at your eyes, at the tears that never fell. “We all have baggage.” Yours just happens to be a sick, indebted father, and a strained relationship with your dead mom. “I voted to leave, even though that money up there isn’t enough to cover it all. Whatever your baggage is, beyond these damn games, isn’t my fault, and you shouldn’t be taking it out on me.” Gi-hun just stares at you, wide-eyed, looking a little younger. Not by very much - but he looks like the man he might’ve been, before his first time in these games. 

A thought bubbles up like a laugh, that it’s probably been a while since he was last scolded by a woman for hurting her feelings.

He presses his lips together, eyes darting to the side, and you realize, belatedly, that his hand is still warm on your arm. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, softer this time. “I told you, though, I’ll give you enough money to cover your debts. Your father’s, too.” He squeezes your shoulder, his other hand partially raised, almost in surrender.

You would laugh if that sentiment doesn’t twist the knife in deeper, despite being well-intentioned. “I already feel horrible enough, taking the blood money from this game,” you reply, voice tight. “I don’t know if I can handle your ghosts on top of my own.”

Gi-hun’s expression twists, but there’s a deep understanding in his eyes. “Please. If that money is good for anything, it’s helping people escape the same fate that others couldn’t.”

Your insides are churning, a befuddling mixture of guilt, pain, understanding, appreciation, and… something else, something you shove deep down. If your feelings for Young-il were misplaced, you refuse to make the same mistake twice. But something about Gi-hun tells you that he’s unmarried, unattached. A man with any kind of relationship in the outside world, filial or romantic, wouldn’t come back to a place like this.

“If we make it out,” you finally reply, your shoulders dropping, arms loosening. Gi-hun nods, his expression drawing in at the reminder. One more game. “I’m still with you, Gi-hun. I trust you.”

He smiles, just a little, and finally releases your shoulder, albeit hesitantly. There’s something strange in his eyes, stress or guilt or something more. As you finally walk away, you don’t let yourself wonder, don’t let yourself get caught up in frivolous emotions for a man who carries too much weight to ever let someone else lighten the load. And you pretend you don’t feel Young-il’s eyes watching you as you take a bed in the corner with Gi-hun’s group, choosing to lay down and stare at the mattress above you, trying not to think of anything at all.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

♡  ⁄ taglist: @pursued-by-the-squid @in-hos-wife @bloooooopblopblop <33333 @nellabear @gloriousjellyfisharcade @politicstanner @xcinnamonmalfoyx @beebeechaos @delfinadolphin @bbrainr0t @ineedazeezee @watasinekoru @solarpotato @nerdytif @speedymagazinewhispers @machipyun @dilfismz

[enzosbabyangel]

ᥫ᭡ Day 4 . . . high sex with junkie!Fred

cw: 18+!, mdni, porn without plot, possible dubcon, mention of heavy drug use(cocaine), innocent!reader, filming, corruption kink, incase it’s not clear reader asked to fuck while high, kind of finger sucking?

Moans spilled from your lips as you laid on your back, holding your legs by your knees, on the messy, dingy mattress. Blankets and pillows thrown to the side except on singular pillow that your head rested on.

The coke in your system emphasized all the pleasure you were feeling while Fred’s cock rammed into your poor overstimulated pussy. Shameless moans spilling from his own lips while his hand lazily held your ankles. His camera aimed right on where the two of you connected.

Fred groaned as he looked up to see your face, pointing the camera towards where he was looking as a lazy grin tugged his lips. “So fucking hot baby..” He murmured. His free hand moving just slightly to rub your calfs. “Got you so addicted to high sex didn’t i baby? fucked you last night ‘n you already craved more.” He rambled. The idea of corrupting someone as innocent as you had almost a full load of precum escaping him and into your pussy. The thought never failed to get Fred all hot and bothered.

You giggled, your sounds slurred as you strained your head up to look past your legs and where his hips slammed into yours. Loud moans spilling from your lips at a short series of rather rough thrusts that practically kissed your cervix.

“Yes yes! i’s so good..” You pretty much chanted as you pulled your legs closer to your body. Speaking high nonsense such as; “Lovee coke.” “Wanna do moreee,”

Your series of random ramblings about loving coke and wanting to do more just earned a chuckle from Fred. Smug smirk finding its way onto his face as he manhandled your legs to wrap around his waist.

He brought the camera closer to your face and slowly brought his hand up to your face. Thumb running over your bottom lip before forcefully forcing its way into your mouth, which you obediently accepted. He shoved his thumb as far down as he could and pressed against the bottom of your tongue.

“God, turning you into such a junkie huh?” He asked rhetorically. Pushing down on your tongue harder before pulling his thumb from your mouth. Running his hand down your body until he reached back up to your tits, groping them roughly as he spoke again. Grin plastered on his face. “Corrupting my babydoll into loving drugs.”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . written by enzosbabyangel, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours. Doing so will result in me blocking you and reporting.

tags: @mattheoriddles-sluttt @weirdogirl888 @jennieonline @bella-713 @txzii @couch-potato69 @chalametlover444 @erika5373919882920

[stayevildarling]

Agatha Harkness x Reader- She‘s got away- Part 1

A/N: this is part one of a series based on this poll. I hope you enjoy. I am very open to any requests for this series or any notes. my inbox is always open🤍

tw/tags: westview agatha, female reader, very slight mention of abuse, angst, slight manipulation

word count: 2.1k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay, @laavaagirl, @wtfffisgoingon, @milflovers4

As you stand by the bus station, the bright flickering neon lights blur your view a little. Meanwhile, all you can feel is rain, heavy and cold as you try to find shelter near the ticket booth. The place smells old, the kind of old that meant many people had moved through here before, nostalgic. You could almost feel people‘s stories, passing through on their way to a better life, getting ready to take a leap and meet someone or move for a job. But the rain reminded you of the sadder ones, the people who ran away from their life in order to find a better and safer one.

You stand beneath the flickering yellow lights, hands holding onto the strap of your duffle bag like it‘s the only thing keeping you standing . Your breathing fogs in the cold and for a moment you regret grabbing the coat you are wearing so hastily a few hours before, feeling the cold seeping into every part of your body. But you didn‘t have a plan, no time to pack properly or to plan where you are going. You just picked up the things you could, wallet, phone and some clothes and essentials before running, without looking back.

The sound of old squeaky tires causes you to look up and you sigh in relief when seeing the bus approach. The doors hiss open and you climb aboard, sinking into a seat near the back by the window, pulling your hood up and trying hard to stop your body from shaking. You glance at the timetable on your phone one more time, seeing it going through the city before heading to remote areas, some of them places you never heard of before. As the bus leaves, you decide to do some research, seeing your phone being on low battery and wanting to find the right stop to get off.

Westview. Your eyes eventually fall upon it despite how your eyes burn, wanting nothing more than to find some rest. Once you researched the population and how truly small and boring it seemed according to the internet, you settle on it, having never heard of it before. But it was perfect as it meant no one would think to look for you there.

The ride is long, hours pass in silence and even though you did manage to grab your headphones in order to listen to some music, of course your phone was by now dead and with how run down this bus is, there are no charging plugs either. And so the silence stretches for hours, only broken by the occasional murmurs of another passanger, the sound of the road beneath you. You keep your head down, seeing the city lights slowly fading replaced by a pure darkness. One that undeniably matched how you felt inside.

No matter how hard you tried to stay awake, keep your guard up and stay safe, your eyes eventually grow heavy, too heavy. You had been running for days, for years technically but never physically until a few days ago and the exhaustion lingered in your bones, the cold still seeped into your muscles and eventually your body took over, eyes closing and finally getting some rest at last. Despite it being hours later, it feels like minutes when your heart slams in your chest, eyes widening when the bus jolts and the intercom startles you.

„Westview. Last stop“ the driver announces and you are quick to wipe your face, forcing yourself to move despite how much it is aching at this point. As soon as you finally step off the bus it feels like being on another planet. The silence of the night makes you feel uneasy, always having lived in cities so far and it buzzing no matter what time of the night. As you walk through the quiet streets of the town you feel like you are frozen in time. A single main street with a few shops, a diner with a big neon „Open“ sign, a gas station that looked almost abandoned. The only noise is the quiet hum of the streetlights and for the first time tonight you begin to regret, realizing there aren‘t any big hotels and questioning whether you maybe should have planned this one a little better.

The first place you wanted to stop was the diner, feeling incredibly hungry as you couldn‘t quite remember the last time you ate, the last few days having passed in a blur. The last bottle of water you finished hours ago but you carried on, wanting nothing more than to finally find a warm place to stay, even if it was just for the night before moving on. And so first you try a motel, finding it on a map near a bus stop but as you walked to the front desk, a woman in a knitted sweater barely glanced at you from her magazine before announcing they are full.

The next place was some kind of bed and breakfast but the owner, an older man also turned you away, explaining they had no vacancies. There was no suggestion, no alternative, a simple no. And you began wondering why everyone had been so strange, considering how late it was, the fact that they would turn a young woman away without even trying to be helpful or at least offer a friendly smile.

In the end, you do settle on the diner, sinking into a chair before ordering some coffee with the loose change you had left in your coat pocket from the bus ticket change. The middle aged man serving you coffee in an apron seemed much more friendly and by the time he came around to ask if you needed anything else, some food perhaps, you take your chance considering you aren‘t only running out of options but also time. You clear your throat before speaking „Do you perhaps know any place I could stay for the night? I tried the motel and b&b but they are full“ you announce trying to keep a friendly smile and hide your desperation.

His eyebrows furrow before he questions „The B&B full?“ the edge of surprise in his tone confuses you but you simply nod. He exhales sharply before rubbing his chin, he did seem like he wanted to help you „Not much else in town, I‘m afraid“ he sighs before your stomach twists at his words. „Nowhere? I just need a bed“ you sigh in frustration before he nods understandingly. „Not unless you know someone“ he adds.

By your expression he could tell you didn‘t but before he could respond another men sitting at the bar called him over and your last flicker of hope left. It isn‘t until you put your change on the counter, grabbing your bag and getting up before there is a thud. You didn‘t notice the woman in the booth behind you until you walked straight into her. The impact sends you backwards for a moment before you bend down to pick up your bag „Sorry..“ you begin before looking up but you aren‘t prepared for who you just bumped into.

The woman is smirking, not in an irritating way, not surprising but simply amused, almost as if she anticipated this. Her hair is darkly curled, face sharp with high cheekbones, knowing blue eyes. She was older than you but not old. Her body is coated in a dark purple long coat that looked expensive, almost as if she didn‘t belong to a town this size.

„Well well“ she mutters, voice smooth but almost etched with something teasing. „You look a little lost there darling“ she chuckles which causes your throat to tighten „I..“ you try to speak but nothing comes out and she tilts her head as she scans you. She could sense the exhaustion, seeing how your knuckles are white from gripping the bag on your shoulders, dark circles under your eyes, a deep sadness behind your eyes and body trembling from what she assumes to be the cold out there. But she could see something else, something deep behind your eyes, knowing there must be more to the girl that looked so rough but beautiful at the same time.

She sighs, almost dramatically „You‘re new“ she says, not even questioning it but you assume with a town this size it wasn‘t really anything out of the ordinary to notice new faces. You nod before she carries on „I heard you are looking for a place to stay“ and for a moment you hesitate, realizing how strange it was that she listened to your conversation despite how quiet you had mumbled the words to the waiter before. „Yeah“ you swallow before her smirk deepens.

„Well aren‘t you in luck? I have got a room for you“ she smirks and for a moment you feel like running but there is something safe in her smirk, not in a threatening way but one that you can‘t quite place but by now being able to tell it wasn‘t something evil. Still every fiber of your being wanted to turn around and say no but glancing at the quiet town out there, you knew there wasn‘t any alternative, no busses now and the only option the small bus stop to sleep.

„How much?“ you ask a little hesitantly before she chuckles „Depends sweetheart, how long are you planning on staying?“ she asks and by your silence she can tell that you had no idea. You should be questioning her, where does she live? why is she offering a stranger her home? who is she? but instead all you do is stay silent and lock eyes with her.

„Not too much, definitely cheaper than the B&B or Inn, my name is Agatha by the way, Agatha Harkness“ she offers and you barely nod before she turns, walking to the door. „Come on“ she calls over her shoulder „Before you freeze to death out here“ she winks and before you can even think further your feet follow her, out of the diner, into her car and eventually into her home. Her house is on the edge of town, in a quiet street, two stories, wood and a wide porch.

After she unlocks the door she steps inside, taking off her coat and turning the lights on. You hover in the doorway, seeing how the rest of her body is equally clothed in shades of purple, some old looking jewrely coating her neck and fingers. „Well?“ she pulls you out of your thoughts and you blink before stepping inside, still a little hesitantly.

„Relax sweetheart, I don‘t bite“ she sighs as she offers to take your bag and sets it down. There is a pause before she smirks again „Unless you ask nicely“. Your stomach drops as you gulp but before you could respond, she turns around, leading you through the house, past some furniture, warm light and the smell of something herbal.

Eventually you reach a wooden door at the end of the hall and she pushes it open „Here“ she exclaims leading you into a warmly lit room, a rather large bed, a small window and a dresser. It seems like she must have used it as a guest or spare room because really it wasn‘t much but it was safe and oddly enough the woman made you feel safe. She steps inside, setting your bag down on the bed for you before walking over to the heater and making sure it‘s warm enough. „Towels and spare bedding in here, bathroom is opposite this room and you are welcome to use the kitchen at any time“ she announces with a friendly smile and you nod before watching her leave.

„Than- Thank you Ms Harkness“ you remember your manners and she smirks before she chuckles lowly „Agatha please dear“ she corrects you as your eyes meet and you simply nod before she leaves, shutting the door behind her and finally allowing you to sink into a warm bed. And hours later as you lay in said bed, listenting to the wind rattling in the older house, you can‘t shake the inner turmoil, part of you not trusting this stranger as she didn‘t seem like the kind of woman to just rent out a room.

It feels as if she had been waiting for you, as if every moment since buying the bus ticket led you right here into her home. But before you can think about it further, your body finally relaxes, feeling the cold that clung to you before leaving and replaced by the warmth of the room and covers. And so at last sleep washes over you as you feel the warmth of the strange ladies house elop you.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

I See You As You Are - Pt 7

aemond x f!reader 

Series Masterlist

Summary: The first couple of weeks and months following Aelors birth Aemond becomes more protective than you thought possible. You practically have to beg him to sleep. He reluctantly starts to accept the help people are offering the both of you. Life slowly starts to go back to normal as you both fall more in love with Aelor.

Warnings: 18+ soft family moments that made me want to crash out!, aegon appearance again, overprotective aemond, oral(f), fingering, p in v, breeding kink

Authors Note: i will forever spread my sibling agenda sry – idk why this took me so long to write just so many ideas all at once i guess 😵‍💫  but i love this series and im not abandoning her i just get too attached sometimes and don’t want to see it end - also don’t want to rush the writing of this bc i love it too much - me over explaining myself to no one but myself! n e ways enjoy i love u and i love this chap and story

Word Count: 8k 

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ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

It’s been a little over a week since you brought Aelor into this world and Aemond is positive he only sleeps when.. Maybe when he blinks. He needs to be aware of everything that moves inside your shared chambers. If you breathe too heavily he’s next to you. If Aelor coughs he’s hovering over the crib. You look up at his bloodshot eye with pursed lips as he escorts you back to bed. 

“I don’t want you out of bed.” Aemond presses his lips to yours and helps you lay back into your well of pillows. 

“And when pray tell, will me and Aelor be taken off of bed rest, maester Aemond?” he flares his nostrils and pulls your blanket up your body. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever let you two out of these chambers.” his tone is teasing but you both know how truthful his words are. 

“Husband.” you look up at him. 

“Hush.” he shakes his head. “There is nothing you two need outside of these chambers.” you clear your throat. 

“Come lay with me.” you pat his side of the bed. He slowly crawls into the bed and you both turn and look at each other. “Tell me what you’re scared of.” your words soft.

“He’s so little and you’re still so fragile.” you narrow your eyes at him. “You know what I mean. I just don’t want either of you taken from me. Whether it be a misstep on stairs or a sickness. I won’t allow it.” he shakes his head. “I won’t. I can’t. I’ll die without you and our son. I will. I can-

“Aemond,” you cup his cheek. “We are right here. Healthy and safe.” you nod your head. “One more week.” you press your lips to his. 

“One more week?” he mumbles against your lips. 

“You have one more week to prepare to take Aelor and me on a walk throughout the gardens.” you pull back. 

“I’m sorry I’m overbearing.” he whispers. 

“There is no reason to apologize.” you brush his hair back. “Could I make one more request?” he nods, starting to get up. “Lay back down.” you chuckle. “Please go to sleep. I know you haven’t been.” you wipe your thumb under his eye. 

“Do you promise that you’ll both still be here when I wake?” he whispers, pulling you closer to him and curling against you. 

“Yes, Aemond. We will both be right here.” you smooth his hair back as he lets his eye close and finally begin to rest. 

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You wake up and groan as Aemonds side of the bed is empty. You feel for any warmth but it’s cold and you roll over and look at the ceiling. Pushing the blankets off, you get up and walk over to Aelor’s crib and find him curled up next to the egg with his little fingers reaching out towards it. You brush his wisps of hair back before walking over to the table where you’re sure there’s a letter waiting for you. 

~

Wife and my little son,

Please - for my sanity - do not leave these chambers until I return. I won’t be long, I just went to collect some things. 

I’ve promised you a walk today - which I still plan to deliver. 

I thought we could go to the library and we could read as a family. - Yes, I know you said the gardens.

Tonight is the full moon and I had hoped we might wish upon it as a family. - We’d have to go out a little earlier than normal. 

My wish for the moon: Please don’t let my wife hate me for not letting her and Aelor out of our chambers. 

~

You smile and walk the letter over to the side table and place it with your growing collection. You begin to dress for the day and a warmth settles over you when you hear Aelor start to coo. You quickly finish dressing and go scoop him out of his crib, placing kisses across his face. You carry him over to your chaise and curl up with him watching him smile and grab at your fingers. 

You could stay like this all day, with the exception of having Aemond at your side, curled up with your son enjoying the silence and the song of the breeze through the windows. Though you can’t help but smile at the thought of being able to show your perfect son off. You rise with him and bring him over to the wardrobe to dress him for the day. You hear the door open and close before you hear the familiar steps.

“I half expected you both to be gone.” you can see relief wash through him from that not being the case.

“We would never dream of leaving you.” you walk over to him and he places his lips on your forehead before offering the same to Aelor. “And to address your letter we would never hate you, Aemond. We’re content here, with you.” you nod and he reaches down to press his lips to yours.

“How are you both?” you watch as he scans over the both of you.

“We’re very excited for you to take us to the library.” you smile up at him. “And to see his very first full moon.” you smile as Aemond brushes Aelors hair back. 

“May I?” he holds his arms out and your eyes snap up to him.

“Aemond, of course.” you help place Aelor into his arms. 

“He’s so perfect.” he whispers, looking down at him. 

“Even if he threw up on you this morning?” he smiles and waves you off. 

“Your mother is wrong.” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t even call it a spit up.” he traces his finger along his chin. 

“Mm, is that why you changed your jerkin?” you hum walking back to the wardrobe to pick out clothing for Aelor. 

Your heart swells as you hear Aemond silently coo and talk to Aelor and you push around different fabrics. You were secretly happy Aelor ruined his jerkin because you can finally have them match. You chew your lip pulling out the dark green fabric and basking in its softness. You hold it up and look over it smiling at his little buttons.

“It seems as if your mother is going to have us match today.” Aemond chuckles as he spots the green fabric in your hands. 

“You two will look so handsome.” you coo. 

“I thought we agreed that all three of us have to match?” he raises his brow walking over to you with Aelor. “Something about an early grave?” you purse your lips pretending to be lost in thought. 

“I don’t recall.” you shake your head. You lift off Aelor’s current outfit and begin to pull the green over his head. “Oh my Gods,” you look up at Aemond. “Hold him next to you.” you nod quickly. 

“Like this?” he cradles Aelor in one arm and you bring both of your hands to your cheeks. 

“Aemond.” you softly coo. “You both look so handsome.” you push your bottom lip out. “My distinguished little gentlemen.” you walk over to them. “My sweet boys.” you smooth Aelor’s hair before cupping Aemonds cheek. 

“Are you done?” your eyes snap up to him and you can see a hint of a smile. 

“Nowhere near done.” you shake your head. “Let me just adjust some things.” you smile up at him quickly.

You start to adjust Aemonds hair and straighten out his jerkin. Aelor softly fusses when you smooth out his hair more. You move Aemonds arm to have Aelor more centered and push down his outfit from his neck. Aemond watches you with a small smile as you move them about as you please. You finally stand back and admire them both. 

“May we escort you to the library?” he holds out Aelor’s arm to you and your heart melts. 

“I would love nothing more.” you tickle Aelor’s neck before grabbing onto Aemonds other arm. 

Aemond helps escort you down the stairs of your chambers and the second you step out into the hall you stop and look around to see if anything has changed. You have the same guard and the same tapestries adorn the walls all the way down the hall. There's a small buzz of people in the Keep at this early hour and you smile to finally be a part of it once more. You turn and brush Aelors cheek with your fingers before you take Aemonds arm.

The walk to the library is full of whispers to Aelor of his different surroundings. Aemond has kept a calculating eye on everything going on around the three of you. If someone walks too close he’s silently moving you to the otherside of the hall. You chuckle knowing what he’s doing and you pause and look up at him. 

“Don’t you think people will want to see the new prince?” you raise your brow at him.

“We’re going on a walk to the library not a parade through the city.” he says louder than needed as he looks around at prying eyes. “If we stop for one person we will soon have a line.” you know he's right enough in the matter.

“Then let us go hideaway in the library.” you smile up at him, patting his arm.

He continues to lead you through the halls and when the massive wooden doors come into view a smile spreads across your face. Aemond pulls open the door for you and motions for you to walk towards his section. You watch as servants start to have tea prepared for you and light a couple of candles. You take your normal seat and open your arms for Aemond to place Aelor into.

Aemond pulls your book down from a shelf and takes his seat. When he turns his gaze to the both of you he’s glad he’s sitting because he’s sure his knees would give out. His wife and son, sitting in his chair, in his section. He brings the book to his lap and opens it in search of the last chapter you both left off on. You lean further back in the chair as Aemonds soft voice greets your ears. You begin to rub Aelors back as he starts to curl into your chest with heavy eyes.

“Do you think I’m boring him?” Aemond looks to you with a worried expression.

“No.” you shake your head once. “I think your voice is very soothing. Comforting. He probably feels safe and at ease.” you look down and see Aelor asleep on your chest.

“Should I keep going?” he whispers.

“I would like that and I think Aelor would too.” you nod with a smile.

Aemond continues on with the story in somehow an even softer voice than the one he started with. He pauses after every chapter and asks if you want him to keep going. Aelor eventually wakes and fusses until you place him in Aemonds arms. Aemond brings the book back to his lap and watches as Aelor spreads his hand across the current page. You watch them with a warm expression as Aemond attempts to continue reading. After the next chapter he closes the book and sets it back on the table to give his full attention to Aelor.

“Do you think he’ll enjoy reading as much as we do?” Aemond watches as Aelor grabs at his rings.

“If we keep this up I’m sure he will. Soon he’ll have his own section in the library.” you chuckle. 

“Maybe you’ll take over my section.” Aemond whispers down to your son.

The rest of the afternoon is filled with Aemond reading to the two of you in short spurts. It only took three times of asking if he could walk you three around the Keep until he agreed on the condition that he can turn everyone away who asks to speak with the three of you. He holds you closely and once he sees your eyes start to droop he insists that the three of you return to your chambers for a nap and you had no complaints with that idea.

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

The sun has barely passed the horizon and Aemond is trying to herd you and Aelor to the door with whispers that it’s almost Aelor’s bedtime and you should be fast asleep too. You bat his hands away which are immediately back on your waist as you start your descent down the stairs. 

“Aemond, I know how to walk.” you sigh. 

“I would prefer to carry you both.” you turn your head and he stops you on the stairs. “If you don’t pay attention I will.” his tone not joking.You turn your head back and start moving once more. Once you make it to the bottom of the stairs you stop. “What’s wrong?” he steps in front of you. 

“I figured you wouldn’t want me to touch the door. It might be too strenuous.” you purse your lips. 

“You’re right.” you watch his lips twitch up and you flare your nostrils as he turns to reach for the door handle. 

“Aemond Targaryen.” you hiss and his eye snaps back to yours. 

“Yes?” he wraps his hands around your waist. 

“I’m not going to break.” you huff. 

“I’m aware.” he presses his lips to yours in hopes of removing the soft scowl. “Can I not just dote on you? Is it not my job to do everything for you?” he pulls back. 

“There’s a difference between doting and overbearing.” you hum and step past him to open the door and walk through. 

“I’m sorry.” he makes his way to your side quickly. “Please don’t be mad at me.” he whispers and you stop once more. “Please, I’m sorry.” his heart starts to beat faster at the thought of upsetting you. 

“I’m not mad at you.” you look up at him. “Now give me a kiss, offer me your arm, and take us to the gardens to look upon the moon.” you wait expectantly and you watch as a smile spreads across his face.

He presses his lips to yours before placing them on Aelors forehead and holding out his arm for you. He bites his tongue when you start down the main stairs and takes a step closer to you. You glance at him and he is already staring at you, calculating your every step. 

“How are you feeling?” he whispers once the three of you make it to the main hall. 

“Like I’m going to ask the full moon for you to relax.” you turn to him. 

“Do you still love me?” he searches your eyes. 

“My Gods Aemond of course.” you press your hand to his chest. “I love you more than life itself.” you cup his cheek. “I might love you even more if you take us out to the gardens as promised.” you smile up at him. 

“You’re sure you still love me?” he steps closer to you. 

“I’m sure.” your reach up and bring his lips to yours. 

He starts to escort you once again through the main hall and you sigh in relief at the soft breeze that greets you once the three of you make it outside. You smile as you enter the gardens and adjust Aelor so he can look at all of the life growing around you. Aemond stays glued to your side and an arm hovering around you as you walk Aelor up to different flowers. 

“This was the first place your father took me when we met.” Aemond’s heart skips at your words. “We’ve been coming here ever since.” you whisper carrying him deeper into the gardens. “Tonight is very special.” you turn to Aemond as you enter the small courtyard. 

“It’s the full moon.” Aemond leans down and smooths Aelor’s wayward strands. “If you make a wish upon it when it’s full it’ll come true. I’ll make sure of it.” you smile watching Aemond softly talk to him. 

“What your father didn’t tell you is that he’s actually the moon.” Aemonds eye snaps up to you. “He makes sure we have anything and everything we wish for.” you nod. “We’ll wish for you for the next couple of years but soon you’ll be able to do it on your own with us and you can teach your siblings.” your smile widens. “We can make wishes as a family.” you look up to Aemond and see that his eye is glossy. 

“You want to have more?” he whispers. 

“You didn’t think I’d be content with just one?” you tilt your head. 

“How many do you want?” he steps closer, wrapping his arms around you.

“At least two more.” you nod. 

“And at most?” he tilts his head. 

“Four more?” he nods his head quickly. 

“Yes, I would like that.” he rubs circles into your sides sending warmth throughout your body.. “It’s always up to you. I’ll be content with any number of children.” he lets his mind wander to your chambers filled with children running around and giggling. “A family.” 

“Let’s make our wishes before you start crying.” you cup his face. 

“I’m not crying.” he purses his lips. 

“Mhm.” you nod, wiping your thumb under his eye collecting the tear. “I love you so very much.” you whisper up at him. 

“It sounds as if you might cry now.” he watches your cheeks flush. “And I love you more.” he presses his lips to your forehead. “Look up to the moon so I can get you both back into bed.” he tilts your head up to the sky. 

You let your eyes close and Aemond does the same, never letting his hands leave your sides. He smiles when he feels Aelor grab onto his arm and he cracks his eye open and looks down at him. He watches as his face spreads with a smile and he reaches up to Aemond. You open your eyes when you feel Aemond start to scoop Aelor out of your arms. 

“My wish was to hold him and to offer you a dance.” he holds out his free hand. 

“Let us dance on our balcony while he sleeps.” you offer him a warm smile. 

“I would like that.” he nods. “What did you wish for tonight, my beautiful wife?” he hums, pulling you closer. 

“I had wished for us to dance.” you chew your lip. “And for you to let me kiss you until I fall asleep as I once used to do.” 

“Then let me keep you waiting no longer.” he offers you his arm. 

You curl into his side as he leads you three back to your chambers. Aelor quickly falls asleep in his crib allowing Aemond to whisk you out to the balcony. His hands are on your waist instantly as he begins to sway the both of you across the stone. As the breeze begins to cool you a bit too much and Aemond scoops you up and brings you back inside. 

“This is how I would prefer to take you around the Keep.” he whispers before pressing his lips to yours. “Now let me go get your sleep dress so I can give you your kisses.” he sets you on the bed, letting his lips linger on yours longer than necessary.

“Or might you just stay here for a little while?” you mumble against his lips. “Please?” you hold him closer and sigh when he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You try to pull him onto the bed with you and he starts to chuckle. 

“This is more than just kisses.” he kisses down to your neck. 

“Please.” you whisper. “Aemond please,” you whine.

“Let’s get you ready for bed.” he smiles as you shudder when he licks up your neck. “I can tell you’re going to fall asleep soon.” he lifts up and chuckles as you try to pull him back. 

You watch him with a pout as he walks over to your wardrobe and pulls out a night dress for you. He stops to check on Aelor before walking back over to you on the bed. He bites his lip looking and you lidded eyes as you fight to stay awake. He helps you undress and brings your wandering hands to his mouth to place kisses against each finger. 

“Go to bed and I’ll kiss you as much as you want when you wake up.” he pulls the covers up to your chin. 

“I’ll stay awake.” you whine. 

“Your eyes are shutting before me.” he smiles. 

“No.” you shake your head and curl against him as he gets into bed. 

“One more kiss.” he nods and you reach up and bring his lips to yours. 

“One more.” you mumble against him. 

“Rest.” he hums and kisses your forehead.

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Over the past couple of weeks Aemond has slowly relaxed and gone back to a regular sleeping schedule. Aelor is happy and healthy, though this doesn’t stop Aemond from darting to his side when he makes a noise. He’s hesitant to think about the egg, let alone even look at it for too long. He wants it to hatch so badly but maybe that’s why it’s not. 

Maybe since he didn’t have an egg his son's egg will never hatch. It could all be his fault. He could be the reason Aelor grows up like him. Picked on and-

“Aemond.” you grab onto his arm. “Staring at the egg isn’t going to make it hatch.” your words soft. 

“Do you think it’s my fault it hasn’t hatched?” he continues to stare down at the colored egg. 

“Not at all. You’ve been quite the doting mother hen to that egg.” he turns to you with a squinted eye. “I joke.” you cup his cheek. “I believe it’s up to the Gods if his egg will hatch. It will be no one’s ‘fault’ if it does not. You are doing everything right.” you look into his eye and nod. 

“So I should keep doting upon the egg?” the corners of his mouth shift up. 

“I had hoped you might dote upon me?” you tilt your head. “I would just like some kisses.” you nibble on your lip. “For now.” he chuckles. 

“I could indulge you in a kiss or two.” he hums, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. 

The moment his lips touch yours it’s as if all of his worry and doubt drift away. He’s never felt more wanted than when you cling against him trying to be as close as possible. How quickly you open your mouth and invite him in eagerly. The small noises you make when he squeezes into your sides and- He’s pulling off of you and turning back to the crib. 

“He probably just moved.” you whine trying to tug him back. 

“It’s happening.” he shakes his head. “There’s a crack. It’s moving. What do we do? Do we take Aelor out? I need-“ he cuts himself off, not ready to say that name after the words ‘I need,’ and looks between you and Aelor. “I’ll be right back.” he’s thudding down the stairs, leaving you to look after him with wide eyes. 

Aemond doesn’t care about the early hour. He just prays he’s sober enough to help. He doesn’t hesitate at the guard as he pushes himself into his brother's chambers. He walks over to his bed and shakes his shoulder. Aegon pushes his hand away and Aemond yanks him harder. 

“Get up.” Aemond hisses. ���If you want to be a family, get up. The egg is hatching and I don’t know what to do.” the words taste foreign on his tongue and he watches Aegon's eyes snap open. 

“Alright.” Aegon nods. “Let’s go.” he rises from the bed and so do Aemonds eyebrows. 

“Put something on. My wife and child are there.” he strides over to Aegon's wardrobe. “Quickly.” he snaps, tossing trousers and a tunic. He pulls Aegon out of his chambers and down the hall once he’s clothed. 

“My Gods, slow down.” Aegon groans. “And get me some water.” he looks up at the stairs to your chambers with tired eyes before he starts his climb. 

“You will have nothing if you don’t help.” you hear Aemonds curt tone as he and Aegon make it to the landing. “Did anything happen?” Aemond is back at your side. “Do we take him out of the crib?” he turns back to Aegon. 

“First we relax and tell me where the water is.” Aegon looks around. 

“No.” Aemond shakes his head. “Come check on the egg and my son first.” he glares at Aegon. 

“Aemond, it's just water.” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “Aelor is fine.” you nod up at him. 

“Alright.” Aegon groans and walks over to the crib. “What a handsome boy. You did well, brother.” he grins across the crib at Aemond.

“What of the egg?” Aemond presses looking down at Aelor and the egg.

“It’s hatching.” Aegon nods. “Shouldn’t be long now.”

“Should we leave him with the egg?” Aemond looks over to him.

“Yes.” he nods. “Was that enough to merit me a cup of water?” Aegon blinks at Aemond expectantly.

“I suppose.” Aemond nods his head to the table holding the water pitcher and Aegon is next to it shortly after. “So what happens now?” he brings his attention back to Aelor and the cracking egg. 

“You see when an egg cracks, brother,” Aegon walks over to him. “Something usually comes out.” Aemond flares his nostrils at Aegon's tone. 

“I’m aware.” he says through his teeth. You hold on to his arm tighter hoping it’ll offer him some comfort. “Should we call for the keepers?” his tone a fraction smoother. 

“I figured you already called for them.” Aegon raises his brow, sipping on the water. “So you came to me first?” he smiles. “Do not look at me like that. I’ll go call for them.” he waves Aemond off and walks back down the stairs. 

Aemond’s mind is racing as he keeps his eye on the crib. He refuses to believe an actual dragon is hatching mere feet from him. His little son's very own dragon. You look up at Aemond and see his slightly flushed cheeks and reach up to cup his face and slowly turn him towards you. 

“What’s wrong?” you take in his glossy eye. 

“I’m just so happy for our son. For Aelor. He gets his own dragon. His very own.” his voice barely audible. “There’s soon to be too many people here for me to be this emotional.” he shakes his head and you wipe under his eye. 

“Might I have a hug?” you whisper and Aemond grabs your hand from his face and pulls you against him. “I would still like to have my other kisses later.” you whisper and you feel his small chuckle in his chest, thankful for your distracting words.

“I could provide those for you.” he whispers and starts to pull back. 

“The keepers will be here shortly.” Aegon announces as he makes it to the stop of the stairs once more. “Might you both pick different chambers? I already tire of these stairs.” Aegon groans, going to refill his cup of water once more.

“All the more to keep them. If they’ll deter you from barging in then I think they’re perfect.” you look up at Aemond as if you’re telling him to be nice. 

“Maybe you’ll change your mind when you have more children.” Aegon waves him off. “The offer is always there.” his words are followed by a quick knock and the voice of the keepers coming up the stairs.

“Congratulations, my Prince.” the keeper looks to Aemond before walking over to the crib. “A healthy boy. No wonder his egg is hatching already.” the man muses. 

“Should we have taken him out of the crib? Is there something more I should be doing? Would you like some water?” Aemond rapid fires questions at the keeper.

“He is perfectly fine in the crib. There is nothing for us to do besides wait. Though looking at the egg.. Ten minutes maybe.. Maybe more..” the man shrugs and Aemond nods before turning back to you.

“What did he say?” you look up at him. “I also think you sound so very elegant when you speak in that tongue.” you whisper and watch a small flush spread across his cheeks.

“The egg will hatch soon. We just have to wait now.” he turns his attention back down to Aelor and watches as you reach in and smooth his hair.

“Does the dragon stay here with us?” you look up at him. “Am I now raising our boy and his dragon?” your mind races on how you would even go about doing that. 

“Not necessarily.” Aegon comes to Aemonds side. “Of course it’s so tiny now so it’ll spend more time with Aelor here to help strengthen their bond. When it grows and my Gods do they grow fast, it’ll be housed in the pits that you can visit.. If Aemond releases you from these chambers.” he lets out a small giggle. 

“Aegon.” Aemond warns.

“Relax brother,.” Aegon sighs. “The keepers will tell you everything.” he looks up at him.

The three of you watch the egg slowly crack more and you hear Aemond’s inhale as Aelor slowly wakes. His eye widens when Aegon's hand enters the crib and pinches his little cheeks. Aelor lets out a small coo and turns his head towards the egg. You watch with wide eyes as he grabs onto the crack and you feel Aemond stiffen. Aegon grabs onto Aemonds arm and whispers lowly.

“Let him. He’s safe. There are plenty of people here who know what they’re doing.” Aemond looks down at Aegon and where his hand is placed on his arm.

“And you’re one of the people who know what you’re doing?” Aemond scoffs.

“You did come get me first.” he chuckles. 

As Aemond goes to retort there's a more prominent cracking sound. The keepers slowly walk over and soon the crib is surrounded by watching eyes. You grab onto Aemonds arm and lean closer into his side. A short shriek is heard followed by another crack. You watch as Aelor grabs at the egg and pulls a piece of its shell off. You gasp when you see an eye before it disappears once more. 

“Are you nervous?” Aegon whispers.

“Be quiet.” Aemond hisses.

“So you are.” Aemond turns his head and Aegon bites his lips to stifle his laughter. “I’ll be quiet. Don’t kick me out.” he nods back to the egg. 

You and Aemond inhale at the same time when Aelor pushes his little hand into the growing hole. When he pulls it out you see a small tail wrapped around his wrist before it slips back into the egg. You watch as Aelor pushes his hand into the egg once more, slowly scooting towards it. He pulls another piece of the egg off and your eyes widen as the dragon is now blinking up at everyone. Aelor grabs the dragon and brings it to his side. 

“He has a dragon.” Aemond whispers. 

“He does.” Aegon grins. 

“His very own.” you look up at Aemond and squeeze his arm, knowing how emotional this is for him. 

“What are you doing?” Aemond is stepping forward when the keeper grabs for the dragon.

“We must examine him.” the man nods and scoops the dragon out of the crib.

“Will you bathe him as well?” Aemond looks at the mess starting to spread across Aelor’s linens. 

“Of course.” the man nods and turns to the other keepers before walking to the bathing chambers. 

“They’re cleaning the dragon so we can change Aelor’s sheets.” he turns to you. “Let’s go find him a fresh set.” he holds onto your arm as if it’s his lifeline. 

“Then I suppose it’s just me and you left.” Aegon chuckles and scoops Aelor out of the crib. 

Aemond glances at Aegon and Aelor before deciding Aegon probably knows what he’s doing in that sense too. He shakes his head, not quite ready to accept all of Aegon’s help. Aemond helps you pick out a clean pair of sheets and walks back over to the crib to strip it. You grab a change of clothing for Aelor and hand it to Aegon who smiles up at you from the chaise. 

The next couple minutes in your chambers consists of everyone cleaning and preparing to bring Aelor and his dragon back together. Aegon stands once he has Aelor changed and brings him over to the crib. Aemond takes Aelor from his hands and nods once at Aegon who is well aware that is the only thanks he’ll receive. The keepers come back over and place the small dragon in the crib and nod at Aemond to do the same with Aelor. 

“How is the dragon?” Aemond looks across to the keeper.

“He is well.” Aemond smiles. “We will leave you. Someone will return to care for the dragon and remain down the hall to offer the three of you reprieve until he is no longer fit for the Keep. They will help feed him and help instruct you on anything you should need. Your brother also knows a great deal and could offer you his wisdom.” Aemond chokes back a laugh at Aegons ‘wisdom’ and wonders if he’s ever seen it. 

“Thank you.” Aemond nods at the man.

The keeper nods at you and Aegon as well before taking one last look in the crib with a smile spread across his face. The keepers wave before they leave the three of you to look down at the crib. Aegon looks between Aemond and you and smiles before walking over to the table holding the water once more. 

“I will leave you three. I’ll have them house the keeper close by and I’ll have your guard tell you where. Should you both need anything else don’t hesitate to ask. All I ask is a nicer wake up and maybe some water before I’m dragged out of my chambers.” he raises his cup of water before starting towards the stairs. 

“Wait,” Aemond calls out. “Thank you,” he nods when Aegon turns. “Brother.” Aemond groans at the smile that spreads across Aegon's face. 

“Would you like a hug baby brother?” Aemond scoffs. 

“No. Leave us.” Aemond waves him off.

“One day.” Aegon calls over his shoulder as he starts down the stairs. 

You watch as Aemond stares down into Aelors crib with a furrowed brow. He inhales when your hand enters the crib to brush back Aelors hair. You then bring your delicate touch to the dragon's head and he slowly blinks his eyes open. He lets out a small purr before curling back up with your son. 

“I know nothing of raising a dragon.” you turn and whisper up at Aemond.

“You know some from our readings.” he hums. 

“Mm, shall I start to work towards becoming a dragon keeper?” you purse your lips. 

“My wife, you’re perfect at everything so if that is what your heart desires then I have the utmost faith in you.” he pulls you against him. “But the keeper will remain down the hall and if it’s too much we can always just bring the dragon to Aegon and he’ll deal with it.” he brushes your hair back. 

“Speaking of Aegon..” you look up at him with a raised brow. “I see that your relationship with him is improving.” you don’t want to pry but it warms your heart seeing them hopefully start to mend bridges.

“We’ll see.” Aemond starts to lead you back to the bed. “For now I would like to finish offering you the kisses you asked for while our son sleeps with his dragon.” he can’t help the grin on his face at that statement.

“Maybe soon we can have my handmaidens keep Aelor overnight.” he steps back and looks at you with a raised brow.

“Why?” he presses his lips to yours once.

“So I might enjoy my husband for the night.” you pull his lips back down to yours. “I miss you.” you whine against his lips. 

“I rarely leave your side.” he chuckles, helping you lay back on the bed. “And when I do it’s under an hour.” he starts to crawl over you.

“Must I tell you what I miss?” you pout, pulling him down to you.

“Yes.” he whispers against your lips. “Tell me.” he kisses down to your neck enjoying your small breaths. 

“You haven’t filled me in almost two months now.” you whine softly as he starts to suck on your neck. 

“You’re still fragile.” he lets his teeth graze against your skin.

“I’m not.” you grab onto the back of his jerkin. “Please.” you whisper.

“Ask me again in a couple of weeks.” he kisses back up to your pursed lips.

“I won’t break.” you furrow your brows.

“No, but you deserve one. You just brought our child into this world.” he presses his lips to yours.

“Let me bring us another.” it’s taking all of his restraint not to take you at your breathy words.

“Two weeks.” he grabs your wandering hands and places them at your side. “It’ll just be like the lead up to our wedding.” he presses his lips all over your face. “Now let me go check on our son and his dragon before you take advantage of me in my emotional state.” he starts to detach from you.

He chuckles at your soft string of curses as you try to pull him back to you. You rise from the bed and smooth your skirts before returning to his side once more. Your son is curled up with his dragon and looks like a perfect little prince. 

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You’ve been trying to get Aemonds attention for the past two weeks now but he has resisted all of your advances. The amount of sheer slips you’ve had your handmaidens bring in makes it seem like you’re running a pleasure house. You’ve even gone so far as to sleep naked and he simply covers you with the covers and curls into your side. 

Tonight officially marks the two week mark he set. Gods know why he’s making you wait, you’re ready to combust at the thought of him. Aelor is with your handmaidens for the night and his dragon is with the keepers. Your chambers are clean and there are candles spread throughout offering a warm light. You pace around looking for something to do until you hear the door open. You sprint over to your chaise and spread the sheer silk around your body. 

“Mm, what is the occasion?” Aemond is fully aware that it is exactly two weeks since he told you to wait. 

“Aemond,” you whine. “I’m begging at this point.” you go to get on your knees. 

“No, no.” he shakes his head with a smile. “That’s my spot.” he sinks to his knees before you. “I have also been counting down the days, my insatiable wife.” he presses his lips up one of your calves. “Aelor is with your handmaidens for the entire night?” he looks up at you with a dark eye.

“Yes.” you nod quickly.

“Mm,” he continues to kiss up to your thigh, smiling at how you tremble. “And what is it that you want to do tonight?” he looks up at your already heaving chest. 

“Aemond please,” you spread your legs before him, not caring anymore. “Please,” you groan as he starts to kiss your other calf, enjoying your breathy begging. 

He kisses up to your thigh once more and pulls back softly chuckling at your whine. You look down at him with a soft pout until you feel him starting to push your slip up further. He can see you center glistening in the candle light and looks back up to your pleading eyes. He looks across your body and nods knowing you won’t be getting any type of sleep tonight. 

“You are so very beautiful.” you let out a small whimper at his words. Your nails dig into the plush chaise as he licks up your center. He groans at your sweetness and grabs onto your hips to pull you closer. “Please let me know if it’s too much or if it doesn’t feel right.” he looks up at you. 

“Please just-“ you let out a soft cry as he buries his head between your thighs once more. “Yes,” you gasp as his tongue swirls around your bud. 

He rubs circles into your hips as he continues to lap at you listening to your sounds. You slowly roll your hips against his face and he quickens his movements pulling a gasp from you. He groans as he moves his tongue down to your core and finds your pooling wetness. He moves back up to your bud and encases it and sees your stomach flex. 

“Aemond.” you whine, grabbing onto one of his arms. “I’m- I, please,” soft pleas continue to fall from your mouth as he moves his tongue faster. With another cry of his name you fall apart on his face. “Oh,” you jolt as he starts to move his tongue even faster. 

Aemond can’t get enough of your sounds, it’s been far too long. Gods and your taste and the way you’re gripping onto his arm is spurring him on even more. He moves his other arm and circles one of his fingers around your entrance before slowly dipping it inside. Your broken whimpers are all he needs to hear before he starts pumping into you. 

He looks up at you and sees that your slip has shifted and he groans looking at your breasts. Your eyes are squeezed shut, focusing on the pleasure he’s offering you. When he pushes another finger into you, your pleasure begins to build rapidly. You start arching off the chaise when he pushes his fingers into you faster. He smiles as he laps at you and he hears your wetness coating his fingers. 

“Aem, I’m, please yes.” you squeak and pulse around his fingers. 

“Was that good?” he slowly slips his fingers out and sits back, slipping them into his mouth. “You taste very good.” you whimper at his words.

“Take off your clothes. I need you.” you reach for him but he’s already grabbed onto the hem of your slip and is pulling it over your head. 

“Are these still sensitive?” he whispers as he brushes his fingers against your nipples. Your small whimpers tell him everything he needs to know. He rolls the peaks between his fingers and watches you squeeze your legs shut. 

“Aemond please,” you grip his wrists. 

He chuckles and wraps his arms around you and lifts you to carry you to the bed. You pull at his clothes desperately and whine when he lays you back on the bed. You go to stand but stop when you find him removing his layers. At each reveal of his skin you spread your legs wider. Once he’s bare he crawls into bed with you and presses his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around him and pull him as close as you can. 

“Fill me.” you plead into his mouth. “Please,” you wrap your legs around his waist. “Fill me, I need it.” Aemond chuckles but lines up at your entrance nonetheless. 

He slowly pushes in and watches your face relax as small moans pour from your mouth. He presses his forehead against yours as he gets lost in your warmth and feel. When he settles within you he brings his lips to yours and slowly starts to rock his hips. You’re squeezing around him tightly and he’s trying to focus on kissing you to truly enjoy the feeling. 

“Move.” you jerk your hips. “Please.” your breath catches as he snaps his hips. 

“Hush.” he presses his lips to yours once more. “Let me just relish in the feel of you, my perfect wife.” he murmurs and kisses down to your neck. “I probably don’t even have to move to make you come undone.” he smirks against your skin as he brings his thumb down to your bud. 

“Yes,” you dig your nails into his back. He nibbles at your neck as he continues to swirl his thumb around your aching bud. “Please,” you hold him tighter. 

“I can feel how close you are.” he whispers into your neck, starting to roll his hips into yours. “Come for me and I’ll start moving.” he stills his hips once more and you let out a strained whimper. Your body is humming with pleasure as you moan out his name repeatedly. 

“Aemond I’m-“ you gasp as your pleasure slams through you. 

“Just like that.” Aemond lifts his head up and starts to pump into you. “You’re so perfect.” he presses his lips to yours. “Already wanting to be swollen with our child again.” his pace quickens at his words. 

“Yes.” you pant trying to nod your head. “Please let me.” you whine feeling your legs start to tremble from pleasure. 

“I’ll keep you filled with children as long as you please.” after every snap of his hips he rolls them into you after. 

“Thank you.” the two words slightly pleasure slurred as he continues with his pace. “Tha- mm-

“Fuck,” he groans as you pulse around him causing his pleasure to slam through him. 

You sigh with a smile as you feel his warmth spread throughout you. He presses his lips to yours as you both slowly rock against each other not quite ready to separate. You both stay sealed together until you both pull back with swollen lips, softly panting. He pulls out of you and watches a small frown form on your face. 

“We’re not done.” he kisses your lips. “I just need some water.” he chuckles before getting out of bed. “Would you like anything?” he glances over his shoulder watching you still spread out in the bed. 

“To be filled again.” he tilts his head back and laughs at your words. 

“In a moment.” he hums and slows his stride enjoying your whining filling your chambers. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist  ⏾ wips  ⏾  taglist

sorry this took me so long sometimes i get stuck on scenes and forget i can skip around the chapter and finish other scenes 🫠 

im prob going to continue my sibling agenda and next chap is going to be a time skip of prob like 3yrs UGH i just want these babies up and talking !!! dad aemond is going to send me to my grave so be patient w me plss

also feeling emo so i love u all who love this story with me and if you have any cute little family and/or dad scenes you want me to try and bring to light lmk and ill sneak it in 👉🏻👈🏻  ok ily bye 

i see u as u are taglist: @readerselegance @sinistersnakey @thebirdandthebee

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters @rere10 @sxlsvv @sarahrosw36q @tricksterreaper @somethingsaladsomething @naty-sunshine

[fuckitupfelix]

"no me mires con esos ojos"

valentines mini series >_• !

dick grayson x male reader

wc: 0.8k

the small, tender moments are what matters the most to dick. even the silly ones.

FEM ALIGNED DNI

no me mires con esos ojos — dont look at me with those eyes

dick grayson likes the simple days with his lover. he finds great comfort in knowing that after every patrol, no matter how battered and bruised he gets, he can come home to a familiar face in his apartment; and it won't just be a furry one. there's no need for any explanations, lies, or excuses. his boyfriend understands. he always did.

so when the door of their shared apartment swings open to reveal dick in his nightwing suit, the fabric around his chest and shoulders torn, he's met not with anger or a loud outburst of concern, but with a frown, furrowed eyebrows, and a gentle kiss on the cheek. the warm smell of food wafts over from the kitchen.

"what's for dinner?" dick asks, shutting the door behind him. his eyes follow (name's) hand as it cups his cheek, and he leans into the touch, shutting his eyes— just for a moment— and feeling a bit more at peace.

"i got some frozen soup dumplings on sale the other day. they're cooking on the stove for another ten minutes or so," (name) hums his reply. his gaze falls to the torn bits of dick's suit. "do we need the medkit?" he asks, softer this time.

dick shakes his head, exhaling softly. he brings a hand up to cover his boyfriend's, giving it a small squeeze.

"i just got thrown around a bit. nothing's broken. promise," he breathes out a chuckle. his boyfriend cares, he really, truly, cares. eventually, dick opens his eyes, and is met with his lover's tender gaze.

"don't look at me with those eyes," dick laughs.

"i can't admire my boyfriend?" (name) jokes, but dick can see how the corners of his eyes crinkle a little more after that, the way his expression softens, the small curl at the corners of his lips.

dick leans over, closing the little distance there was between the two of them.

their lips press together gently, and (name's) small smile grows into a grin. he pulls his lover closer, his free hand reaching up to the back of dick's neck, his fingers curling around the hairs at the base of his neck. dick lets out a soft giggle at that. his hands drop to (name's) hips, thumbs gently rubbing along the fabric of his own t-shirt on his boyfriend's body. these tender moments make up for whatever kind of day dick has, regardless of how horrible or dreadful it seems to get.

te lo doy todo, ni modo — i give you everything, there's no other way

harsh flurries of snow whip at the faces of unsuspecting individuals in the streets, the wind picking up in sporadic bursts. what was supposed to be a pleasant, romantic day off ended up leaving the two stuck inside a walmart. dick was bundled up perfectly for the weather— a thick sweater underneath his parka, paired with the ugliest scarf, gloves, and hat he could find. at least he was warm.

(name), who had not checked the weather prior to leaving, was missing the unsightly accessories, and with the wind blasting round after round of snow into his poor face, had decided that an emergency shopping trip was in order.

"why do they only have kid's sizes?" (name) asks, holding up the tiniest green scarf he'd ever seen. "i'm not small enough to wear any of these."

"we could make it work?" dick hums, approaching (name) from behind and resting his head on his shoulder. from the corner of his eye, he can see the look his boyfriend give him. dick laughs.

"seriously?" (name) snorts. he gently jabs his elbow into dick's chest, mumbling something about how ridiculous he was being.

they both continued to make their way through section after section of the store, trying to find anything that (name) could wear. he felt bad; he was ruining his lover's plans for the day— the odd day off that he got, and they were spending it in a walmart. how romantic.

their search continued until something in particular caught (name's) eye. an all too familiar shade of blue on black wool, in a matching set of a scarf, hat and mitts. it was perfect.

"babe," dick turns around to be met with his boyfriend wrapped up in nightwing merchandise. the signature bird logo wrapped around the entirety of the beanie, as well as on the outside of both of the mitts, all while (name) sports a huge grin.

"wh— where did you find that?" dick manages to say after a small fit of laughter. he's grinning so hard he can feel his cheeks start to ache. "you actually wanna get these?"

his lover nods, and dick knows it's stupid, but he swears his heart skips a beat;

"of course i do. nightwing's my favourite for a reason."

slow buildup to valentines day ,, this is how im coping with the fact that im still single </3

[utilitycaster]

I love the current discourse because a "woman with a crippling traumatic pasts, gets help of her party to heal from it and spends the rest of her life living a simple quiet life with her lesbian partner" is not the problem, and it has been done before in CR, it's Yasha

If you think about it, Laudna and Yasha's characters mirror each other in more ways than just a monochromatic palette, but one wound up being more interesting and earned her epilogue better and it's not the one that was present for all 100+ episodes of her respective campaign

Yeah; this has come up a TON but like. I have watched/listened to all or part of the following actual play series:

Critical Role (almost everything barring a few one shots, mostly from C1-era)

TAZ (afaik everything except a couple of the most recent episodes)

NADDPod (everything)

RQG (only main campaign and main-campaign canon sidequests, not one-shots, but I listened to all of that)

Relics and Rarities (all)

D20 (most)

Desiquest (first 2 episodes)

Into the Motherlands (first 2 seasons)

Burnt Cookbook Party (haven't listened the last few months for life reasons but intend to catch up, was otherwise caught up)

WBN (first 3 arcs, intend to catch up)

I also am a regular listener to NADDPod and Critical Role's talkback shows. I've been a regular DM since 2020 and had DM-ed one shots prior; I've been playing D&D and occasional other TTRPGs since 2016. I've read a number of articles on the topics of actual play as a form and TTRPGs and discuss it with friends. I'm saying all of this to make it clear: people can tell themselves that I'm stupid and uninformed and don't know what I'm talking about, and I think we all know they're just mad I disagree with them and am a better and more convincing writer to boot, and they're entitled losers who want me to write posts that make them feel good solely through what I'd call bullying but really it's more like if someone tried to shove me in a locker and accidentally gave themselves a concussion running headfirst into a locker, and I filmed it.

ANYWAY getting to the point yeah Yasha tells a story that hits the same core beats while also being a superior character on every level. She also had a difficult and abusive childhood (starting from a younger age) and experienced great loss and injustice, and also committed great harm. In her grief she was taken advantage of by sinister forces that sought to use and control her, and while she was able to escape with assistance, the bindings followed her. She continued to experience loss, and despite fighting back succumbed to her past controllers until her friends - not some stranger, but the people she'd met, coupled with her own abilities - broke her free, and she was able to meaningfully and rewardingly end her servitude. She messily worked through her feelings and in the process found love, and, having been forced to be a weapon and killer, made a choice to set that aside and find her own identity.

Any claim that Laudna's story manages to touch in a meaningful way on the same notes, when she never takes charge of her own destiny and simply drifts and flops about through various paths of least resistance until settling back in a rut, is a desperate and sad lie told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

I say this as someone who thinks that Critical Role campaign 2 is the best longform campaign of D&D I've seen, and that Candela Obscura Circle of Needle and Thread, Moonward, and EXU Calamity are all some of the best shortform campaigns of actual play: there is nothing I can think of that Campaign 3 does, across the board, that something else in actual play (ie, in this improvised format) doesn't do in a far superior fashion. That's really it. It's mediocre at best. None of these were the casts' strongest character nor relationship and it's certainly Matt's weakest plotting. If you liked it, that's great, but yeah there's nothing special about it.

[breelandwalker]

Snow Moon - February 2025

Boots and mittens on, witches - it’s time for the Snow Moon!

Snow Moon

The Snow Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs during the month of February. Despite what certain groundhogs will tell you, February is the month that sees the highest rates of snowfall across much of North America, according to the National Weather Service, and many alternative names for the moon and the month in which it falls reflect this.

As with many full moon names, we find the roots of the Snow Moon among the indigenous peoples of North America. In this particular case, a colonist explorer noted in 1760 that the Naudowessie (Dakota) people called this month Snow Moon specifically due to the tendency for snowstorms to come during that month. Some other indigenous names for this moon and month refer to commonly-sighted animals. Some examples include Eagle Moon (Cree), Bear Moon (Ojibwe), Groundhog Moon (Algonquin), and Goose Moon (Haida). Another notable example is Hungry Moon (Cherokee), denoting the scarcity of available food in deep winter.

The moon will be at peak illumination at 8:53am EST on Wednesday, February 12th. It will be below the horizon at this time, meaning the moon may appear to be full on the 11th and the 12th, depending on where you live. It should be highest in the sky around midnight EST on the 12th - the perfect time for magic!

What Does It Mean For Witches?

February is a month of change and transition. Though winter still holds on, many places may be showing early signs of spring. Little buds may be coming out on the trees, certain species of birds are beginning to migrate back, and hibernating animals start to wake up and reappear.

As we begin to turn toward the end of our long winter’s rest, it’s a good time to think about how we prepare for oncoming change and how we care for ourselves and our practices during times of stagnation.

We might also contemplate the concept of distance and stasis as it relates to our practices, be it keeping long-distance bonds fresh, doing things remotely either alone or as part of a larger group, or feeling distant from your craft or your deities. And yes, such things are normal and cyclical. Our inspiration and motivation wax and wane just as the moon does. If it feels like you’ve been far away from your craft for too long, perhaps it’s time to bring it back into your orbit.

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

Gather fresh snow or icicles for moon water, or make your own moon ice by leaving a bowl of water out overnight to freeze, if the temperature drops low enough.

If it snows in your area, you can wish upon a snowball. Grab a handful of powdery snow, whisper your wish to it, and throw the whole thing up in the air to release the wish into the universe

With winter scarcity in mind, practice creating a minimalist spell as an exercise. Create a workable spell with as few components, words, movements, or ritual elements as possible. This is more of a challenge if you’re used to using material components or rituals in your spellwork. Many witches cast spells with focused thought or energy work alone.

You can also try creating a spell with only components and materials that you already have on hand. Explore your home and see how many items you can identify a magical purpose for and brainstorm different ways they could be used in your craft.

Explore the concept of self care as magic. Use your routines to create moments of rest and harmony, make a point of being kind to your body and your mind, and cultivate a more positive relationship with yourself - it’s the only one guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Connect with your local biome by looking for any early signs of spring in your area. Feed the returning birds and identify the plant and animal species you see around you as they appear one by one.

Happy Snow Moon, witches! 🌕❄️

SOURCES & FURTHER READING:

Bree’s Lunar Calendar Series

Bree’s Secular Celebrations Series

Snow Moon: Full Moon in February 2025, The Old Farmer’s Almanac.

Snow Moon: The Extraordinary Full Moon of February 2025, The Peculiar Brunette.

Witchcraft Exercise - Home Brews, Bree NicGarran. (Masterlist here)

Moon Info - Full Moon Dates for 2025

Calendar-12 - 2025 Moon Phases

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison, Llewellyn Publications, 2004.

(If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar, check out my monthly show Hex Positive, and find my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

[oacest]

oacest scholars, do you have any gcest fic recs for a beginner?

we decided to answer this in brief and limit ourselves to three recs each or, as evidenced by past failures to answer this same simple and straightforward request from other people, we'd spend forever quibbling about our choices and never actually post the dang thing. here, in no particular order, are some good jumping off points:

trill's recs:

1) @snickfic's baby, you're gonna be the one that saves me, aka my fave fic (technically series, it's got two parts) in this entire fandom. in which liam gets knocked up in the mid 90s by someone who's not noel, to noel's intense anguished jealous heartbreak mild dismay. even if you're not really into mpreg this one is well worth it. the characterization is god tier. bal and i insisted that jackie, who staunchly doesn't like mpreg, read it and even she was converted.

2) i could be your lover, you could be all mine, by hapaxlegomena. a collection of unconnected porn ficlets. lots of extremely tasty stuff in here, i reread random bits of it regularly.

3) the D'YA WANT SOME? series by one of our own triumvirate, bal! im sure she's squirming in horror that im including it but it is by far the best, most well-written, most well-characterized, thoughtful, hilarious, hot, fascinating work in this whole fandom imo, and is a perfect intro to the whole concept of pre/early days oasis and what noel+liam might have been getting up to behind the scenes (as it were) before they were famous.

bal's recs:

1) Filmstar, an orphaned fic on Ao3. This one gets recced plenty but for good reason. It's very funny in a deadpan way and the Liam in it is such a perfect little weirdo. It's a great fic to start with, readable even if you don't know all the lore and whatnot.

2) outta sight and outta mind by lustmord. this author writes Trauma and specifically the brothers' trauma in a way I find endlessly compelling. (for all that Everyone Knows about their shitbag dad, it is still such an unspoken and often unpredictable presence in the room; you can't really get into them without tangoing with it in some fashion)

3) Let Me Be The One, by @savageandwise. absolutely fantastic Liam voice, this author just GETS him. I often think about this quote as a literal thesis statement for Noel's whole insane deal:

You think he's perfectly willing to allude to it in public if he's the one pulling the strings. Cause he thinks he's cleverer than the rest of the world. He thinks it's edgy and rock and roll when he does it. It's his brand of anarchy. And when you do it you're just stupid and embarrassing and determined to destroy everything.

jackie's recs:

1) Trying To Find A World That's Been and Gone by @storyshark2005. my colleagues graciously let me be the one to put it on my list because this is Thee fic. as we were all getting into Oasis initially, this fic was our constant companion and teacher, holding our hand as the fixation unraveled within us. it's a present-day fic that beautifully and masterfully unpacks the entirety of their relationship from the glory days to the estrangement and it is so jam-packed with research and details, you can just assume that everything that's being referenced is based on something that actually happened. in my opinion, this is where any new fan should start.

2) If I Had a Gun by @savageandwise. it's probably cheating to put another fic by this author when bal's already done it, but... I don't care lmao. in many ways we're splitting hairs because all this author's fics are worth your time. but I do hold a special place for this one because it so wonderfully captures the tenuousness of their dynamic at any given moment. how they could go from fighting to flirting to hating each other to needing each other in rapid succession. it feels so true.

3) Here's Looking At You, Kid by RedheadAmongWolves. don't be thrown off by the fact that this is one chapter away from completion, it's still totally worth it. the characterizations are great, the vibes draw you in, the UST is delicious. honestly, this is really meant to function as an overall author rec. there were several here I could've chosen.

[deadhands69]

Cute When You Stutter

loser!Shigaraki x gn/afab Reader

suggestive ▷ smut ▷ fluff

part 1 of 5

[series masterlist]

Grocery shopping with your boss is always an adventure, today especially so. You swear half your job is trying to get him to live on more than instant ramen cups and energy drinks. 

“You need to eat a vegetable,” you plead for the fourth time today. He makes a scrunched up face in response. You’re about to offer sexual favors in exchange for him eating healthy but turns out there’s no need. He throws a bag of baby carrots in the cart before wandering off somewhere. You continue shopping, knowing he’ll pop up eventually.

Pausing at the Valentine’s aisle, you make a quick turn. Even after critiquing Shigaraki’s diet, you can’t help it. You find yourself mesmerized by the shiny colorful wrappers. Grabbing a few bags of chocolates and conversation hearts for everyone, you throw them in the cart with the rest of the groceries. You could wait a few days for day-after candy sales but by then all the good stuff will be picked through. 

Without warning, you hear a loud giggle followed by your asshole ex appearing at the other side of the aisle. An attractive girl clings to his arm, it nauseates you to think you used to do the same.

“Oh, hey y/n,” his fake smile flashes in front of you, “this is my girlfriend.” He emphasizes the word, as if it means that much to you. Turning to her, he tells her to toss whatever she wants in the cart. She does so, racking up quite the pile of pink and red. They’re both clearly dressed for a date while you’re in the baggiest sweatpants and hoodie you own. You don’t want to care, but it’s hard not to compare yourself to them. 

It’s fine though, you’re over it. You were over it the moment you found out he was cheating on you and realized the person you thought you were dating doesn’t exist. It sucked, absolutely, but it’s been a while now and you’re definitely over him.

Here’s the thing though… as much as you don’t care about him, his opinions of you, or how pretty the girl on his arm is (okay, you care a little about that in a worried-about-her-run-girl-run kind of way but whatever) there’s still an involuntary twinge in your gut watching him trying to flaunt his amazing life in your face. Worse, you can already picture the looks of pained sympathy from all of your mutual friends after he will inevitably spin this into some weird thing to make you look pathetic without him like he did when you broke up.

No, you can’t let that happen. Not again.

Shigaraki walks around the corner, arms full of ramen packets. At least some of them appear to have vegetables in them.

“Hey, these were on sale and I got as many as I could carry but-” you practically knock them out of his hands, grabbing him by the shoulders and leaning into his ear. 

“Play along,” you whisper. His eyes widen.

You keep it subtle. Not laying it on thick as much as your ex, you don’t want to make it look like he got to you in any way. Brushing your hand against the back of Shigaraki’s arm, leaning into him, normal “look this is my boyfriend” stuff. He tries to play along as much as he can, but stiffens at your touch. You run your fingers over his shoulder and notice his hands shaking. 

“It’s okay,” you mouth before reaching for his hand. You’re careful to only grab two of his fingers and his palm, avoiding all five. Pushing the cart down the aisle, you try to stroll past them as casually as possible, while his new girlfriend continues filling the cart with plushies and candy. You sneak a glance at Shigaraki who looks mortified but it would be hard to miss the way his pants tighten in the front. In spite of all of this, he still hasn’t pulled his hand from you. The two of you walk all the way to the checkstand like this. As you approach the self check aisle, he abruptly realizes he's still holding on and yanks away from you, looking rattled.

“Do you know how dangerous what you did was?” he asks as you walk out to the car.

“You didn’t hate it,” you shrug, knowing fully well what his other hand was adjusting in his pocket earlier.

“No, but…still,” you unlock the trunk and he quickly moves the bags in before slamming it shut and climbing into the passenger seat. 

“Why do people like guys like that anyways?” he asks as you start the car.

“I honestly don't know.”

series masterlist - bnha masterlist

taglist: @shigarakislaughter @kalulakunundrum

[starl0rds]

Theory of Desire

Hwang In-ho x Fem! Reader ୨୧ · ♡ · ୨୧

Pt. 6 in a multi-chapter series!

“It wasn’t real. Any of it?” The words were less of a question, more of a truth you refused to accept.

The past has always been a part of you, and that includes In-ho. It only worsens the sting of betrayal.

Warnings: minors dni! smut, mentions of sex, masturbation, wet dream, fingering, oral sex, blood, dirty talk, dom!in-ho, praise kink, basically plot with porn/porn with plot

Author's Note: thank you so much for all the love and feedback on the fic!! I'm overjoyed to hear how many of you are liking it. chapters will be updated every few days on ao3 <3

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

Chapter 6: it finds a way to live in you

What you're given, what you live in 

Darlin', it finds a way to live in you 

And your heart, love, has such darkness 

I feel it in the corners of the room 

- “De Selby (Part 2),” by Hozier

In-ho remembered those last days clearly. He sweltered in the heat of the urban summer, all those years ago, spent almost every day he could at the precinct. His life had shrunk to going between work and the hospital. Sometimes, he slept at either place. Today was no different. 

He arrived at 7:00 on the dot. After downing a cup of black coffee, he continued work on his open cases, throwing himself into this job like it was a life-line keeping him from sinking. And he was, sinking, quickly. This time was the longest she’d ever been in the hospital. And they had discovered she was pregnant. God, she was—

In his daze, his shoulder collided with someone else’s.

“Hey!” the detective scoffed as he adjusted his folders. “Watch that.”

“Pardon me. Detective Kang.”

“Detective Hwang. Still uptight as ever?”

“If that’s how you perceive me.”

“Would it kill you to lighten up? I’m really not going to miss you when you’re gone, Detective.” 

In-ho froze. “What do you mean by that?”

“Seriously?” The other detective laughed. “The captain’s assistant let it slip to Min-gi, and he told everyone else in the precinct. They all know.”

“Know of…”

“Oh, I see. Denial might work with the captain, but it won’t on me.”

Though his voice was even, a nagging worry began to grow in In-ho’s mind. “I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Moonrise Capital. Gwang-jo Ventures. Out of the few.” Detective Kang sneered now. “Sound familiar?”

The loans.

Sensing he’d hit a nerve, the other detective leaned in, emboldened. “I suggest you enjoy your last week. You’re fucked, golden boy,” he grinned. In-ho felt the pit of despair opening up in his stomach.

The smoke from his last cigarette curled into the afternoon sky. In-ho had never really been a smoker, but these days it was easier to indulge a few cigarettes during work rather than down a bottle of whiskey in his dwindling private time. He knew she would disapprove. Maybe he would stop if she would only get better.

The rest of the morning after his conversation with Detective Kang had passed in a blur. At lunchtime, he had stared down at the scant leftovers he had packed for himself, bulgogi over rice, and placed the lid back on top of the tupperware. It had felt too much like a prisoner’s last meal.

His mind drifted back to the open cases, sitting on his desk. He had work to do, undoubtedly. But after he was gone, they’d likely be reassigned to one of the other detectives. He pursed his lips at the thought of someone like Detective Kang going through his cases. 

And then there was that woman. 

In-ho thought of what he had read in her file—the words from her testimony, filling pages upon pages worth of notes, contrasted against the paucity of the rest of her file. He felt a pang of empathy for her. Firefighters fight fires with water. The police fight crimes with evidence, he heard Chief Kim say in his head. 

His mind turned. Below, the bustle of cars and motorbikes cut through the rippling heat of late summer. The sun beat down on his face.

He put his cigarette out on the balcony and grabbed his keys.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

(chapter cont. here on ao3!)

taglist: @k1ra-park3r, @fries11, @orihime188

[aerialflight]

fic rec list (2025 and all the random fandoms and ships i got stuck in)

It's truly been ages since I made a list and I'm not kidding when I say I've been wildly going back and forth in old and new fandoms. Yes, it includes arcane. It was short lived and glorious and I have so many to share with you now that the fever has passed (somewhat). Anyway! Hope you enjoy! (Also, I think this is the most shippy fic rec list I've ever made, it's fucking ridiculous fnewiofpewa)

-

[Arcane] (i want it noted that i was a jayce fan since s1 and the vindication i felt at the flood of jayce/viktor fics that came in after s2 was unparalleled. so yeah, nearly all the arcane fics on this list have this ship. sue me.)

Balance (this world is a wasteland but we can still grow) by zillac

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

Viktor stays in the Hexcore chrysalis a few more hours. Jayce stays busy falling into the ravine of an alternate dimension and fighting his way back to his partner so that they can invent something new together: a future. ~~~ “What am I?” Viktor asked. “What do you want to be?” Jayce was bearded and haggard and hopeful. “Yours,” Viktor said, a memory and a realization both, like it was a truth that was woven into each of his metal and organic molecules.

(i need fix it fics like i need to breathe, especially for these two. it's not too long and hit the right spot for me when it came to the hurt/comfort, and there were some fucking lines here that legit made me look it up because it was so fucking beautiful and i needed to know if the author really came up with it, goddamn it. also, when i say fix it, i mean in general, not just for the ship. and caitlyn and jayce's relationship was so nice here, i loved it!)

Recourse Pathways by begaydocrimes10001

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

Jayce blinked once. He blinked again. There was the sun, and clouds, and when Jayce ran his hand over his cheeks, there was barely any stubble. (Jayce and Viktor find themselves in the past, just a few hours before a group of Undercity kids broke into Jayce's lab and sparked a chain of events that would later end the world. They get a second shot at preventing it, and, maybe, creating something better in its place.)

Part 1 of State of Matter Changes

(listen, i know that the fandom is bloated with time travel fix its by this point and i'm just as much as a sucker for them too, but i'm more in love with this series because of how much focus it puts on other characters and the chain reaction viktor and jayce's actions have beyond this first fic. truly, after part 1, the series shifts to other characters such as silco, vander, mel, and even sevika more. every fic expands and extends the series of events that occur to make zaun independent and what that actually means. it's so freaking good and the characterization and focus of each character and their perspective is excellent! even if you're not that into jayce/viktor, once you get past the initial part 1 of this series, you'll end up loving the political machinations that happen in the rest.)

Dress me in midnight, feast upon my bones by hexhomos

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

The rocket strikes through the heart. Reality collapses in less than five seconds. Jayce rebuilds Viktor, little by little, piece by piece. And if his partner comes back from the dead a little different, well... what's not to love? Jayce is a quick study. He can adjust himself into a suitable form. He pledged himself to this task a dozen years ago; he's in it for the long haul. * To put it bluntly: this is the one where Dr. Frankenstein runs away with his bride. ( Jayce follows Viktor down to the depths of Zaun, and amid the riots and war-banners, everything changes. )

(*screeEEEEAACH!!!* INSANE. TRULY AND POSITIVELY INSANE. GOD HELP ME I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH OH MY GOD FNEIOWFPEWA)(for the LOVE OF GOD the way this author fucking expands the idea of jayce being a goddamn immigrant and what that means, the author just fucking GETS him, AND VIKTOR IS A MAD SCIENTIST AND I STAND BY THIS SO FUCKING HARD HELL YEAH!! i just, god, GOD, the author got them so RIGHT. i know i'm yelling a lot, but seriously, it's so good. it's so so so good nfewofewa)(READ!!)

Forged in Fire by chicandcheesy

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

Jayce Talis has lived in the Undercity since he was eight. Now, he's a blacksmith with more scars and trauma than cash. He’s tired, broke, and frankly, just trying not to lose his mind. Then Viktor—a reclusive scientist who had been expelled from the Academy—walks into his forge one day. Suddenly, Jayce's life is turned upside down. Between questionable alliances, sexual tension, and Viktor’s maddening habit of being too smart for his own good, Jayce starts to think he might actually go mad. But if anyone’s worth the trouble, it's Viktor. - (A Zaunite Jayce AU)

(i am and always shall be in love with the idea of zaunite!jayce. it just, oof, hits me in the gut. the idea of someone so optimistic as jayce being rundown and hardened by zaun makes me feral. i love how you can see how much he's changed yet stayed the same compared to canon. every fic writer has their own idea of what jayce would be like if he lived in zaun and it's fascinating every time. also, it's so funny how much viktor is the same yet the power dynamics between them have been flipped. god, i can go on, but please just read the fic, it's so good fnewiofpnewe)

Run It Back Again by Withercrown

Ships: Jayce/Viktor, Silco/Vander

Sometimes there's nothing you can do except scrap the whole experiment and start over. The worst possible outcome becomes an opportunity for a new beginning. Viktor and Jayce, estranged enemies in a brutal war, go back to the start - and then earlier than that. The key to their salvation ends up being an undercity brat named Silco. He's not quite the person they remember. (Completed. Updates frequently.)

(so while i'm not as into the league of legends lore, i do have a soft spot for the divorce era versions of jayce and viktor. and man, it makes me cackle watching jayce fumble his way into viktor's good graces lmao. and silco!! is a fucking ally cat and i love him in this fic so much!! and the fact jayce has to play nice with so many people who hates his guts fill me with glee lol. seriously, please read if you love time travel, the divorced era, and seeing jayce suffer. it's a good time XD)

Butterfly Nebulas by MalaMari

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

In a whirlwind, one can have everything, nothing, then everything again. In a single night, a near stranger stood at Jayce's side at both his darkest and brightest moments. Sometimes, the presence of a single person can change everything. Aka: Arcane, but focused on Jayce and Viktor where everyone gets more friends and (maybe) a happier ending.

(first and foremost, this fic is very much friendship based and the banter is absolutely what sold me to this fic. it's just so much fun to read?? and the relationship between caitlyn, jayce, and viktor is so heartwarming and believable in how much they care about each other. and while the plot in itself is slow, you can see how the author is building up the canon divergence brick by brick through every relationship and interaction that occurs. this fic is a slow burn both in the ship and in the plot and i appreciate the time and effort the author is spending to do it. please read this fic, i'm so excited to see where it goes!)

Of Memories and Tomorrows by Lieyantosh

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

Instead of dissolving with Viktor like Jayce expected, he gets sent a decade into the past when Viktor didn’t even know him yet. Of course the logical action to take is to kidnap him. Meanwhile Viktor, twenty-two years old, figures that hey, as long as he can research magic, this isn’t too bad of a predicament. Or: Post-Season 2 Jayce and Season 1 Viktor, the grief of having lost your soulmate while having to look at his younger version who doesn’t even know you, the endless exhaustion of being a second-hand love and also science.

(this is hands down my fave fic on this list, no questions asked. just, GOD, jayce is so fucking feral and deranged and insanely in love with viktor, and viktor who doesn't know him from adam just has to Deal with that lmao. but yeah, this fic was both incredibly healing and sad and genuinely unnerving at times because, like i said, jayce is fucking unhinged here lol. i reread this 3 times and i just fell in love with this fic so hard and fast, it's ridiculous. please read, it's so freaking good fnewiofpea)

Men of Progress by Zairielon

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

On a frozen tundra, a mystical figure makes the decision to save Jayce's life. Thus begins a journey of destiny, the indomitable strength of the human soul, and love that transcends death, all bound together by the Arcane. The Mage gives Jayce and Viktor a chance to change their fate. And the two humans push back against the natural order of time. Maybe, just maybe... life is not set in stone. OR, Jayce does not lose their dream. And he will never let Viktor slip through his fingers.

(*YELLS EXCITEDLY* IT UPDATED!! hey, HEY, if you didn't know, you know now. this fic, which didn't update in 2 years, FINALLY UPDATED and finished the fic! truly and sincerely, this was one of my fave fics back when and i fucking YELLED when i saw this got completed. seriously, this is still one of the best arcane time travel stories i ever read! please read!!)

In Loco Parentis by Anonymous

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

The boy blinks a few times, shaking his head before he looks around, his eyes darting from all different parts of the ravine. Viktor instinctively takes a step back when his eyes land on him, grasping his cane even tighter. “Uh hi?” Viktor points his cane at him. “Who-Who are you?” He tries to make his voice sound strong, the way that the men that haggle for money do, but it comes out shaky. “Are you going to hit me with that?” The boy eyes the cane warily. “Maybe.” Viktor juts a chin out. “If you don’t tell me who you are.” “Oh!” The boy brightens. “I’m Jayce! Or: During the rescue with the Mage, Jayce gets transported to the Undercity and meets Viktor instead, and everything spirals from there.

(the fic that started my obsession with zaunite!jayce. i know it's incomplete. do i care? no, no i do not. i reread this obsessively for literal YEARS. also, ALSO, with the context of s2, this fic just fucking hits different now. truly, if there's a fic i want to write fics for, it's this goddamn fic, its HAUNTS me fnioewfewew)(please read, i beg of you!)

If you're gonna be the death of me [that's how I wanna go] by Caspercryptid (FaiaHae)

Ship: Ekko/Jinx

Jinx has loved Ekko over half her life, so she's not shocked when she starts coughing up flowers.

(hey! it's a wild ekko/jinx fic! but yeah, the idea that it's this couple in particular who got hanahaki made me brain spiral like a hamster in a wheel. really love how the author writes jinx and absolutely recommend it!)

the dust inside the rusted souls by MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

Viktor is dying. This is nothing new. He’s been dying since he was born, since he took his first acrid lungful of Fissure air, and he accepted his premature expiration long ago. Everyone has to die anyways, right? All the Fissure had done was move up the finish line. That doesn’t make it any easier. —— Or, Viktor never tries Shimmer, and his death is the slow, painful erosion that everyone said it would be.

(so fucking angsty with no happy ending, and yet one of the most beautiful fics i've read in a while. and the way the author wrote viktor was so accurate it actually hurt, goddamn. even though it doesn't end happy for viktor, i still believe this fic ended with some hope and i love that. please give this a chance, it's really good!)

scientist and scientist by milkbird

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

“If this Hextech thing doesn't work out,” Jayce drawls, slow and sweet, head still dangling awkwardly from his neck, except now he's facing Viktor. “You know what we should do?” This is a joke Viktor isn't in on. But now he's intrigued, so he draws up his good leg and rests his elbow on it, letting the quiet hum of music wash over him. “What,” he asks, “Should we do, Jayce?” Jayce is holding in a laugh. “Suicide pact.” (Public appearances are boring. Viktor steals Jayce away, and they reflect.)

(this fic screams neurodivergent and i fucking LOVE it! it's so funny and yeah! these two are mad fucking scientists! let them be weird!! it felt real in a way where i definitely have friendships like theirs where i can be weird with someone and they'll say ditto. it just has that vibe and it's so damn good!)(#Jayce is hot and sincere and also weird as hell)(this is literally one of the tags and it's what convinced me to give it a go. i have no regrets!)

destabilise by antiparticular

Ship: Jayce/Viktor

Jayce was naked and in Viktor's bed. Don't get him wrong - Viktor had dreamed of this happening, both literally and on slow days in the lab when he was feeling particularly self-indulgent, but for it to manifest outside of his overactive imagination? He was half tempted to pinch himself to check he'd actually awoken. Why was Jayce Talis in Viktor's bed? And more pressingly, why did Viktor not remember? -- We've all seen the fics where Jayce and Viktor end up in their past bodies post S2 and immediately get down and dirty about it, but what if their trip to the past wasn't as permanent as they expected?

Part 1 of destabilise

(*cackles like a madman* this was so fucking funny and i NEED people to read this. it truly never occured to me that there would be an aftermath of s2 jayce and viktor hopping around through space when there absolutely would be! of course! and it's just as funny as you think it is! if you need a good laugh, please read!)

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[The Witcher] (i know, i'm surprised too. why brain, why.)

Songs of War by StarsAreMassive

Ship: Geralt/Jaskier

Life after Oxenfurt wasn't what Jaskier thought it would be. Dull and uninspired, what is a bard to do? Other than drag a half dead witcher back to his room, thus setting off a chain of events that start a war and and pave the way for a new Warlord in the North. Meanwhile, witchers all over the Continent are pushed to breaking point. Geralt wants to know who this fucking bard is who keeps singing about him. And Letho establishes a venomous hatred for lutes.

(so, i read the warlord fic and became so fascinated by the concept. i truly understand why the premise spawned hundreds of fics now, it's such a fun idea to play with. but this fic made me desperately want more in a way that consumed me. it's an origin story of why geralt became a warlord and honestly? it built up to it so well and with so much humor at first, courtesy to jaskier who goes Through It in this fic lmao. it steadily gets more serious and it made me so eager to know what happens next. please give it a read, it's so well written and is such a believable origin story for the warlord idea.)

Standing in Time with You by Sapphire09

Ship: Geralt/Jaskier

Cornflower eyes opened to the sight of a dark wooden ceiling full of holes. He noted the holes absently, a familiar sight he equated to his life while still on the road, wondering where he is. The last he remembered was the tall ceiling of his Oxenfurt chamber. He also remembered the pain. Weird, how the afterlife looks like the room of an inn. ------ Jaskier remembers being dead. That doesn't explain why he wakes up looking like he was fresh from the Oxenfurt graduating class instead of the handsome, distinguished professor he actually is. Nothing is making much sense, honestly. He just hopes he's not just going completely crazy first before figuring anything about what the fuck happened, or is happening.

(time travel! it's unfinished but god! it's so good!! this fic both made me laugh so hard and had me feeling so bad for jaskier lmao. god i hope this fic gets updated one day, but even if not, i hope this fic inspires others to write more time travel fics in the witcher fandom. the possibilities are endless!! absolutely recommend!)

Roll for Initiative by Draco_sollicitus

Ship: Geralt/Jaskier

En route to game night, a beautiful, mysterious woman falls on Julian Pankratz out of nowhere. She mistakes him for a real bard and then starts talking nonsense about "portals," as if they haven't been outlawed on the Continent for half a millennium. She gifts him magical dice, urging him to "save the White Wolf." Julian, playing Dungeons and Dragons as the fabulous bard Jaskier, rolls a Nat 20 while trying to gain an ally in the murderous Butcher of Blaviken - and is instantly transported to a very strange world similar to the Redania of centuries past. There, he meets the real Butcher, a stoic and sarcastic Witcher named Geralt. Julian also quickly discovers that in this world, he has something that other bards don't: Jaskier the bard really does have magic, and quite a bit of it too - something that both interests and worries Geralt. The Witcher and the bard's quest for answers brings adventure, surprises, heartache, magic, healing -- and maybe a little bit of true love.

(*points vehemently* i've been saying for years that i've wanted to read a witcher fic that involves d&d and it's here! i somehow missed it and it's here!! genuinely had so much fun reading this, jaskier having the same abilities as a d&d bard had me grinning so hard. the possibilities!! also, it's reader interactive! the comment section of the fic was just as much fun to read as the fic, i truly could not predict how the plot would go because depending on the roll of a d20, the plot can go anywhere. love this idea and how well the author executed it! seriously, please give this fic a go! it's a fun time, i promise XD)

The Wanderer's Choice by Little_vesuvius

Ship: Geralt/Jaskier

Julian has never been normal. He has a talent, a gift that is both debilitating and powerful. He has always heard the songs of everyone, everywhere, he goes. His mind is never quiet. The longer he stays in a place the louder the songs get. With every passing year in a city, he grows sicker, and no healer can help him against the crushing noise of the songs of every living being in Oxenfurt. So when he has the opportunity to travel, he does so as Jaskier the Bard. In Posada, Jaskier finds an angry, silent man brooding in a corner, with a loud enough song to drown out the world's crush of noise. Curious, he follows the man, only to discover he is the infamous Butcher of Blaviken - but a man with such a sad, lonely song surely isn't a monster. Geralt just wants to know why this fool of a bard is following him on hunts and won't leave him alone, even knowing his reputation. It's not like anyone really wants to be around him. The bard will get sick of the novelty soon, surely. Or his temper. Filavandrel just wants his people to be left in peace. Finding an old elvish legend in the form of a human bard is the last thing he expects when he captures a witcher.

Part 1 of Heartsong AU

(i've always loved the jaskier is not human trope, and this fic was so creative?? it has a part 2 too and i'm just really fascinated by how the author explored this power jaskier has in this fic. it's really interesting and i definitely recommend!)

-

[Star Trek] (another unexpected fandom i haven't looked at in a long time. see a pattern? also, mckirk won me over HARD.)

Hotspur by kurgaya

Ship: Jim Kirk/Leonard McCoy

try. verb. 1. to attempt to do or accomplish; 2. to subject to strain, as of endurance, patience, or tax; 3. to determine the truth of (a quarrel or question) by test or battle [Academy Era]. "God forbid you're a Shakespearean wife then," Bones grumbles, and Jim laughs.

(finished this recently and i swear, i felt ALL the emotions, holy shit. this fic is made to break and fix your heart. jim has a service dog due to Tarsus Trauma and it's accurately depicted with respect and empathy. and Bones is depressed, which i do feel like i need to tag as a warning (please read the fic's tags), it got very Real at times. but man, it explores his depression in ways that hit me right in the chest. definitely brought up things i haven't thought about it a long while. but the healing process absolutely made this worth reading, i definitely cried at some parts. also, as an added bonus, it has a fake marriage trope embedded in the premise that brings a lot of hilarity and warmth to it in very interesting ways! please read, it's such a unique, very funny at times, and undeniably compassionate fic that explores trauma and recovery beautifully, with all the ugliness that comes with it.)

AsQ by laughter_now

Ship: Jim Kirk/Leonard McCoy

It started out as an ordinary day. So ordinary in fact that it took Jim until late in the afternoon to realize that something was horribly wrong. It was unusual that Bones wasn't in Sickbay during a busy shift, but it wasn't unheard of. What was wrong, absolutely and terrifyingly wrong, was that Bones wasn't even on board. In fact, nobody aboard the Enterprise has ever heard of a Leonard McCoy. There is no record of anyone by that name ever serving in Starfleet. In fact, there is no record of him at all. And that is so wrong that Jim can't even find any words for it.

(is it weird if i say that this is the most enraging and heartbreaking fic i've read for jim kirk? not even tarsus made me this pissed off. jim goes through so so much?? yet the catharsis somehow makes it worth it and i don't have any regrets reading this. not gonna lie, this was hard to read at first, but i literally couldn't stop reading due to the twists and turns this rollercoaster of a fic took me on. seriously, if you want a fic that has mystery, tension, and has you yelling out in triumph, this is absolutely for you.)

Quell the Cosmic Tides by SpocksBrainWorms

Ship: Jim Kirk/Spock

Enterprise is safe to fly another day. All thanks to Captain James T. Kirk's sacrifice. He's made peace with his death, even though it breaks his heart one final time to see the hurt in Spock's eyes. Still, the last thing he gets to see is the face of one of his dearest friends... until his eyes snap back open. Not in a hospital. In a shuttle as it lands at the Academy. “Once you exit the shuttle you are free to return to your dorms. Those of you who are new, you’ll follow me to registration and physicals,” a vaguely familiar-looking officer says, and Jim’s heart stops in his chest. Surprising, considering it shouldn’t be beating at all.

(god, GOD, i'm so so in love with this fic, it's ridiculous! THE time travel fic of this fandom other than lullabyknell's. sincerely, if you haven't read this fic yet, for the love of god, PLEASE do, it's fantastic!!)

When the world comes in by bluejbird

Ship: Jim Kirk/Leonard McCoy

Everyone is blessed with a gift, but Jim's isn't as exciting or useful as the rest of his family. His gift is dreaming of his soulmate. As hard as it is to watch his soulmate live without him, the dreams provide comfort during times when Jim would otherwise give up. Or, the one where Jim spends his life dreaming of Bones.

Part 7 of Interconnected

(honestly? you can read any of the other fics in this series, they're all soulmate fics but in different ways and they're all very very good! this just happens to be my favorite in the series XD.)

Not in Our Stars by emluv

Written for a prompt requesting a fic in which brilliant young medical student Leonard McCoy volunteers for a Doctors Without Borders-type organization and ends up helping with the rescue efforts on Tarsus IV, where he meets a teenage, traumatized Jim Kirk, who will, for whatever reason, allow only McCoy to treat him. I have played fast and loose with TOS information about Tarsus IV and its location, making it closer to Earth so that McCoy could feasibly make it there and back in one summer. Title taken from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, Act I, scene ii: “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in our selves...”

(a gen fic? on this shippy fic rec list? more likely than you think. but yeah, young mccoy hit me where it hurts and i could just see the more grumpy, cantankerous man he'll become. and yet he's still so endlessly compassionate no matter the age. something that this jim definitely needs. the slow building trust between the two and the sheer competency mccoy shows here made me fall in love with this fic. truly, i should've gotten more into the star trek fandom, there's so many fics out there to be read!)

exclamation (not an explanation) by TheWriter2

Ship: Jim Kirk/Spock

"Just before he makes it to the door, Spock realizes that if he is about to throw Vulcan propriety to the wind and embrace his humanity, then he had better do it properly." Having rejected his admission to the VSA, Spock finds himself with very few options. Still angry at his father and Vulcan, Spock decides to join Starfleet and honor his human heritage. There’s only one problem— the Vulcan High Council has banned Vulcans from joining Starfleet, claiming that the organization is abhorrently militaristic. So Spock decides to defy the odds and find a way to enlist. But the road to a starship is full of many pitfalls, and at every turn Spock risks someone realizing his Vulcan heritage and facing a court martial. To Spock, though, it’s all worth it; especially after he meets a bright young cadet who can take Spock to the stars with only a glance.

(this was the cutest fucking fic i've ever read omg!! spock is so! awkward and adorable and i just want to hug him so bad fnewofepwaf. the idea of spock having to pretend to be human mulan au style is fucking inspired, it's so funny and cute! seriously, if you just want a fic that fires endorphins in your brain, this is absolutely for you!!)

-

[Crossovers]

Whatever Can Die is Beautiful by UrieNanashi

Fandoms: The Witcher, Elden Ring

Ship: Geralt/Jaskier

Jaskier is finally free. After so long trapped in a form not his own he had begun to doubt which was his true self. But here he is, unshackled. The betrayals, violence, abandonment- the destruction his family wrought upon themselves and others, all of it left far behind. Jaskier is determined to enjoy this second chance. To bask in the beauty of life and ignore what horrors linger. Then he meets Geralt and things become complicated. ......................................................... “They don’t exist.” “Pardon?” The bard���s brown hair flops as he tilts his head. Geralt bravely doesn’t sigh again. “The monsters in your songs. They don’t exist.” For some reason that gets him a grin, “How do you know?” Geralt stares at him. “I’m a Witcher.” The bard laughs, “So just because you’ve never seen them that means they don’t exist?” “Yes.” Geralt says flatly. “Agree to disagree.” The man says flippantly, “But I would love to hear more about the monsters you’ve fought.” “No.” Geralt takes a drink desperately and finds he is almost at the bottom of his tankard. He contemplates whether it’s worth the coin for another. Probably not.

(truly, you don't really need to know anything about elden ring before reading the fic. i went into it without knowing anything and the fic still resonated with me. this fic feels episodic, with a monster of the week and both characters slowly getting to know each other through their adventures. i love jaskier and how he's depicted here, with all his secrets that he's trying to run from. the ambiance of the fic really seeps into you and pulls you into the story. absolutely recommend and you go into this blind without knowing anything, trust me.)

The Case of Leonard McCoy by AceOfSpades

Fandoms: Doom (2005), Star Trek

Ship: Jim Kirk/Leonard McCoy

The first thing Jim noticed about McCoy, and what started him on this whole messy path, was that McCoy was just a little…off.

Part 1 of Investigations

(listen, LISTEN, even if you've never seen Doom, it's legit one of the most suspenseful, cat and mouse mystery fics i've read in ages. seriously, it's so much fun to read, especially when both characters are so intelligent and every move makes sense and creeping ever closer to the truth. even though bones is also a different character, he's still definitely bones, just multilayered. like an onion! and jim is so persistent and perfectly kirk here, no wonder bones fell for him haha! absolutely recommend even if you've never watched doom, though it definitely helps in understanding what's going on on bones' side and adds to reader enjoyment. please read!)

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

70 - Conflicting Boundaries and Ties

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

Length: 21.3k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, flashback scene, past character death, blood and violence, disturbing imagery, references to infant death, self harm, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, over stimulation, blindfolds, bondage

Notes: No I don't know why this chapter is so bloody long, don't ask why. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

It felt normal, everyone sat where they always did and food piled onto their plates without thought. A few seemed to be missing, but most of which always made their way a bit later to give the rest of them a chance to both wake up and for the youngest to get their early morning energy out of their system. Multiple times Arya had to turn to Bran and fix how he was holding his cutlery, his small hand holding each utensil with a closed fist and letting it stab down at his plate, his young mind not grasping why food wouldn’t stick when he did it. Only a year older, Arya had a good handle on bringing her little brother up to speed. Sansa kept eyeing Arya with a suspicious look, but also one with a wondering in mischief that wasn’t often seen on her face.

Across the table from them, Jon sat beside Robb hoping that his nerves did not come off of his person whatsoever. He looked more tired then usual, but the previous nights known activities could explain that. Nudging his brother in the side, Robb was the first to bring the more unusual missing person up as he gestured with a nod to the seat normally you took beside Sansa. “I’ve never seen her this late. What did you leave her out in the woods?”

If he played everything off as normal, it seemed as if his brother bought it when he shrugged one shoulder. Half finding his words through bites as if to cover up whatever would’ve come out in his speech. “If I never found her maybe.”

He felt lucky, Robb taking it much more playful then Jon knew it really was. “Didn’t think she’d be one to take losing so harshly.” Jon only jesting that maybe you were afraid they’d tease you for it right away, a grin shared between both brothers as Robb only muttered, “Well, we would.”

Jon could thank the gods no one could hear his heart by the time you made your way into the dining hall, otherwise they’d worry he was about to die, even if he felt like it anyways.

Nothing looked out of place, you had dried from the rain of the night before and your dress was different as if it wouldn’t be the next day, but Jon thought he hated it. The image burned into his mind was of last night, how you looked with the rain soaking your hair that it stuck to where it touched your neck, how it all drenched your dress and even though you had been dressed in more leathers for so much time outdoors, what soft fabrics covered you still had clung to you.

Swallowing roughly whatever of his food he had been chewing, he tried not to think back to the way as you heaved to catch your breath looking up at him, the way he had almost noticed for the first time just how much mature your body had changed to be almost without him noticing. You always covered up so modestly, that until your clothes stuck to you in the rain did Jons eyes, without you even noticing, tear down to your chest as you breathed heavily, the thought of whether or not they’d fit perfectly for his hands, but he dared not make any move like that.

Here as you walked in, you were innocent. Hair mostly pulled back save for loose strands you always liked to lay at the sides of your face, the braids done behind your back in a fashion he’d only ever seen on you before. Something you once told him was a sort of style that was common amongst women from the Stormlands, a complete contrast to the night before where your hair had fallen loose around you. If he curled his hand into a fist perhaps Jon could still feel the way the strands were soft and soaked between his fingers. Your dress long and warm this time, hiding away much of what men would describe as the body of a woman.

It drove Jon mad sitting there as all traces of the night before were nowhere on you, and how normal and calm you appeared without even glancing at him. Not even in an avoiding manner, as if you continued your day now as if nothing happened. No one noticed how tightly Jon held the fork in his hand to the point his knuckles turned white looking at you.

Instead of taking your seat, you found your way behind both girls, crouching down with raised eyebrows as you muttered between them. Not enough for no one else to hear, but quiet enough to indicate you only meant to speak to them. “Now, either you can both come with me. Or, we can wait until your mother comes down and all four of us can have a long chat with Septa Mordane and get to the bottom of this.”

Just as Arya tried to protest that it was Sansa’s fault, did Sansa protest that she didn’t do anything and it made both Robb and Jon smile at how little your knowing expression changed. Both turned to look at you, and that time Sansa at only six, tried very hard to act as calm and mature as you despite the blatant look of fear in her eyes of disappointing you. “I only did it because Arya did it to me first.”

It was lost on her that she sounded exactly like the small girl she was and not anywhere near as mature as you were almost ten years her senior. Tilting your head you only looked at her until her own gaze dropped with guilt, turning then to Arya. Jon knew whatever it was his sisters had done, you’d give Arya a little more slack considering she was only four, which her answer matched that. “I did not-” Sansa only snapping back that she did, and Arya cutting back in with a louder, “Prove it.”

A smirk, you pushed up to your full height before taking the matter out of their hands. Picking up Arya with ease at her size, you plucked her down onto her feet before half turning to look back at Sansa. “Either we handle this now with just myself, or your mother and Septa will determine what punishment is suitable.”

Both hands nudging the girls out of the room, if it were any normal day Jon wouldn’t have considered anything that you said nothing to him. But still, his heart pounded as he sat there with narrowing eyes watching where you were no longer in sight. You seemed calm and normal about this though, nothing like you were upset or mad or different in any way. Maybe that was a better sign then anything else.

No one knew, and neither of you gave away that there was anything to know. It made his day easier to get through. One thing, then the next, only sometimes did you make an appearance throughout Jons day spent mostly him with Robb, but normally you’d only show up with Theon in toe. No one in Winterfell thought you were acting different, and it made Jon relax immensely. No one treated him as if he were acting different.

By the time evening fell over the sky, Jon walked back to his chambers considering if he were hungry enough to even think about joining everyone for supper. The thought was rather boyish, but that if you were going to be there, he might find worth in it after all. Maybe he’d change through first. Take off his heaviest layers, wash up as if you needed impressing.

He didn’t notice until he already closed the door. The nervous figure standing in the middle of his room, hands wringing together in front of them with wide eyes and a matching expression that told him there was nothing but gut wrenching anxiety behind it all. Gently calling your name in question, you nearly turned to him with a startled gasp. As if you stood there nothing but nerves, and nothing like the normal girl you were during the day.

Opening and closing your mouth, he could see that the manner of yourself in the day was nothing but a facade. One falling apart before him as he stood there, but the moment he took a step towards you did you take two away, turning from him somewhat. Your voice soft but a stammer. “I- I came to apologize.”

Face twisting in confusion right away, Jon took a hesitant step towards you even when you weren’t looking. “Apologize?” You didn’t look at him as you nodded, just wrapped the shall around your arms over you more as if to hide away. Turning to attempt to glance back at him but never fully committing as you looked to nothing. “Apologize for what?”

Your brows furrowed, turning to him in your own frustrated confusion. “What do you mean for what?”

For a moment, both of you stood there. Feet from each other feeling as if it were miles. Both too afraid to approach as if it would spook the other, but really the only one at risk with such emotions were you. Something wide and almost shining behind your eyes that looked as if one wrong misstep here and he’d pull tears from you. Which spoke to him that something more serious was going on in your head. You never cried. Or, you never wanted to cry in front of anyone.

Tilting his head to implore you to give him something to go off of, you bit down on your tongue as you looked away only to inhale before speaking. Still not looking back at him. “For last night. I-” As you cut yourself off, Jon felt something twist in his stomach.

This couldn’t happen. Not now, not so soon. He’d never been happier then he was last night and it was all about to be for nothing. Jon was sure, he wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t sure. He knew it, he felt it, but now his own heart pounded painfully unsure if he read it wrong, and what that meant for your friendship going forward. The fear flowing through his blood that he had ruined everything.

Looking back at him though, something soft and vulnerable was on your face but the expression was strange as it tinted in shame and guilt. But not a judgmental one, a personal one, an upsetting one. “I should never have done what I did last night. When we..it was wrong, it was inappropriate, and I know I never should’ve put you in that situation.”

Jon took another step closer, now that fear turned to pure confusion. “You didn’t do anything wrong-”

“I did, Jon.” A raise in your voice lowered, looking around the room as if terrified everyone in the castle could hear you yelling before turning to mostly a mutter only he could hear. “I know better then that. Not to...” Repeating you, as not to what, trying to prompt you into being honest. Jon felt confused about what you were really trying to say now, but hearing it out loud hit him in a way he didn’t expect. “I didn’t mean to- I tempted you into it.” You begun to pace along his floor. “Being alone with you so late at night with no one around, the rain, my clothes, everything. It was wrong of me to put you in that situation.”

Truly, for a moment, Jon had no words as you looked at him with the watering in your eyes wishing to turn to tears as you elaborated. “If you need distance from me...or if you wish for your father to send me back home again, I’ll understand.”

His chambers were dead silent but the fire crackling beside him. Sometimes, Jon could forget. That you were younger then him. In two months, you’d reach your sixteenth name day but Jon had been eighteen for nearly half the year now. He’d been a man practically since you arrived a year and a half ago, but you were younger, and so much more innocent.

It was easy for Jon to grasp on his end, he knew he had never kissed someone before and he didn’t hesitate to share it with you. But you weren’t where he was. You likely had never even considered having your first kiss until bloody marriage the way you were raised so strictly. Everything the women in your life had taught you, the Seven, your Septa that Jon hated even though he never met her.

Jon kissed you last night, and you stood in his chambers now afraid that you had tempted him into it, and it was your fault. That you had done something wrong.

Sighing deeply, Jon took a step forward before his hand reached out. As if taming a spooked horse, he silently asked if he could come close. You looked at him wearily before nodding, and looking away again, the shall wrapping tighter around you. Coming up to your side, the nerves clearly hit you strongly as you turned away from him. Not stepping away, but your back now facing him not able to handle looking at him with your guilt.

Without second thought though, Jon let a hand raise. Come up to your upper arm, while the other found gentle and light at your waist. The term slipped from his tongue with ease, rasping and strong as if it was as natural as saying your name. “Darling, I need you to listen to me.” He waited until you nodded, his hand running up and down your arm soothingly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t do anything in the first place. You didn’t tempt me, or seduce me or whatever it is everyone down south is putting in your head. I kissed you. Not the other way around.”

Your voice was a meek mutter, “I kissed you back, I encouraged you. You- men are different, and I shouldn’t have encouraged it when you didn’t want-”

He could tell his chuckle confused you. “Who says I didn’t want to?” You had no reply, nor did you have any idea of an answer he knew. “I kissed you, because I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time. Is it the kiss itself you’re upset about, or because it was with me?”

You didn’t really think about it, the way you turned to look up at him right away with wide, distressed eyes. Not realizing how close you stood with his hands on you, and how the stance had you and Jon pressed right up against each other. “No, that wasn’t it I promise-”

Moving the hand on your arm, Jon brushed some of the loose strands of hair at your side behind your ear, letting his hand trace to your cheek as this thumb ran over the soft skin. “Let me make this easy. Did you like it? When I kissed you?” Your nod was so shy Jon’s eyes could’ve rolled into the back of his head. “One more question.” Leaning down, he tilted your head up to look at him. “Did you want to try again?”

“Now?” Jon nodded, a stammer coming back over you as he felt your muscles twitching under his touch as if wanting to run.

Narrowing his eyes at you, Jon moved you to sit at the edge of his bed. Facing him as he sat beside you, your arms loosened their hold on the shall a little, his hand still cupping your cheek as he leaned over to you. “There’s nothing wrong with what we did, and there’s nothing wrong with the fact that you liked it. It was a kiss, darling. I didn’t tear your clothes off and take you against the tree.” The bright grin Jon had as you flushed terribly, looking away with a complete stammer.

You were so innocent about things, but he had never found it more endearing then that moment.

Your hands finally fell to your lap, fingertips toying with each other, voice soft. “I don’t want you to get into trouble.” He knew what you meant, but he nudged you to look up at him with his hand under your chin, his eyes asking you to explain. “I’m supposed to wait until I marry-”

Jons grin grew. “To what? To kiss a man?” Your embarrassment tried making you turn away, but with something a bit more playful added to it. Muttering your name, he tilted you to look back at him as he leaned close. “We don’t have to do it again, we don’t have to do anything. But you need to understand you didn’t do anything wrong, and I kissed you, because I’ve always wanted to kiss you. And if you ever want to do it again, I’ll be right here.”

That time your brows narrowed. Something a bit girlish in the way you let it mutter out in an embarrassed sort of jealousy he could sense you wished to cover up. “Why though? Why do you want to kiss me? You have plenty of other girls-” Jon interrupted with a gentle laugh asking what girls when you begun to stammer again. “The other girls..you..the ones who you kissed before me..”

Jon tilted your head to meet his bright gaze, “You’re the only one I’ve ever kissed, darling. The only girl I’ve ever wanted to kiss.” There was both an innocence but a hopefulness in the way you looked up at him, as if possibly everything was going to be alright. “This is new for both of us, but, we can do it together. However fast or slow you want.”

Jon knew it would be slow, very slow. But as you looked up brightly at him with a hope in your eyes even more prominent, he knew that taking it slow would be perfectly fine as long as it was with you. “I think I’d like that.” Prompting you to elaborate, there was a soft but embarrassed smile as you said it, the words foreign on your innocent lips. “...to kiss you again..”

He was as new at this all as you were, but still did it feel natural for Jon to take the reigns. Leaning close, cupping your cheek as his lips hovered over yours. Your eyes slipped closed, his hot breath dancing across your skin as his grey eyes looked down to your lips with a deep rasp. “We can do this as much as you like, I promise.”

For a moment, Jon waited to see if you’d close the gap, but he knew better. He was still correct. You were younger, far more naive and innocent about physical feelings and as close to a woman as you were, Jon still was the man. He had to ease you into it, make you feel safe. And for now, being the one to kiss you, was what made you feel safe.

His eyes slipping shut, Jon closed the gap. His lips connecting gentle to your softer ones. Slow and chaste, but just as you had on instinct last night, responded right away. Moving with his kiss but letting Jon dictate everything about it. Your hands slowly reached forward, finding his upper chest, slipping to his shoulders as Jon cupped both your cheeks and turned you to his mercy.

More and more he deepened it, but never without slowly guiding you. One kiss, then another, barley able to even describe it as pulling away before Jon kissed you again. By the time he pulled away, your eyes still closed as Jons fluttered open to look down at you. Pressing a firm kiss to your forehead, Jon very gently let his nose nudge into yours to gain your attention. “Do you want me to ask everytime, or is it alright if I just kiss you again?”

Luckily, he read your nod. Pressing his lips back to yours. Both of you sat on the edge of his bed, nothing intense or even perverse about the gentle, intimate manner Jon kissed you with. His hands by your cheek and hair, yours clinging to his shoulders as if trusting him to lead you.

Jon knew what he felt, he knew it for a long time. He wouldn’t say it, but he felt exactly as he did last night too. Jon knew what love felt like, and he had found it nowhere but in your sweet and gentle kiss.

Yet, it didn’t feel like it was staying that way. Jon could feel you, taste, you, hear you but further and further did you seem to drift away from him. Out of reach of his arms and touch as the room around him grew cold. Too did everything change as Jon looked around. No longer sitting, he stood in the middle of his room until the his head whipped around, hearing screaming. Your screams echoing along his own walls as if they were made rock echoing at him. His hands raised up to his view, soaked in blood as you screamed more and more. Turning one way, he looked back towards his bed where it no longer was.

You laid against what looked like a cave wall, eyes open but unmoving. Soaked in blood like his hands, and the lifeless body of a small blood soaked infant in your arms. The screaming had faded as you and your son had from life, but the lingering horror tearing his eyes up did not last. Instead, Jon was forced away from you to a sound of crashing against the walls. Turning around and around you had disappeared, but now he stood in his room alone, but with walls made of wood.

Banging and clawing and smashing and suddenly did deathly arms break through. Faces torn and rotted and bone but with eyes shining blue as they clawed their way to the inside of Jons chambers. Dressed in blacks and leathers with Longclaw at his side, he heard fighting and shouting and death all around as they tried to get in. Each wall they tore down Jon could see around him. The snow blowing around everywhere and the white cold freezing beyond compare.

Just as they crashed inside, burst through as those outside the room in the cold died by the thousands did they circle him. But when Jon spun to face them, he was unarmed. He was lost, confused, and in the dark of the courtyard of Castle Black. In his hand, he clutched tightly a note with a paper tinged ever so slightly in pink before the wights which approached him.

One, then the next, each wight wore the face of his brothers. Most watched and did nothing. In his stomach he felt two at first. Right in his stomach and another not so far, the wight with blue eyes but the face of Ser Alliser. The next the same, but the face of Othell Yarwick, again in the stomach and one more by his hip. The next wight both in the chest, and the face of Bowen Marsh. The final was the most confusing, a knife plunged right in his heart as he could see Olly mouthing the words, “For the Watch.” But Jon could not hear them.

The cold fades around him, as water and green and lush surrounded as he fell backward against the ground, wounds bleeding out. As if armour had been covering him he felt heavy, and the wights fighting around him were nothing but living men in a battle. He could not make out the face which stood over him, but held in their hands was a great war hammer. And just as it was to come down, shattering his bones to pieces did Jon whisper a name.

His insides told him to whisper one womans name, but Jon laid there and whispered another. The name of the voice he could hear echoing in the distance, his own name right back. And just as the hammer found his chest, did Jon awake with a horrible startle.

Hands grasping at his arm, you leaned down right into his curls with a gentle shush. “Jon, breathe for me, it’s alright.” One gasp after the next, did Jon lay on his side struggling to seek his breathe. He had torn awake suddenly, tearing from your gasp as if the dream he had, had forced him into being awake with a jump. Turning to the side with his palms against the sheets hardly able to breathe like it had been taken away from him.

Pushing yourself more as Jon sat up more, his feet finding the floor but not committing to standing did you drape yourself gentle along his back. One hand by his waist, you reached the other to slid under his arm and seek out his heart. Scar and all you felt it pounding under your hand, but Jon reached his own up. Snatching yours and clutching it in the same spot tightly.

Your head leaned into his neck with your lips leaving gentle presses to his skin as his now more sweat dampened curls didn’t bother you in the slightest. Your voice hardly a murmur, but whispered light in his ear. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

His eyes remained closed for a moment as he tried to control his breathing. Not willing to let go of your hand, you continued to match the gesture with your lips not leaving his skin. Neck, his cheek, side of his head whatever you reached to try and lull him back to you. Feeling his head lean back into you, did you nuzzle right back. The hand on his waist curling around to press more to the scars along his stomach, not even realizing the degree to which your touch against the wounds was bringing Jon back down so quickly.

Letting his breathing even out, Jons eyes opened to the room. The fireplace the only light in front of him, but it was his chambers. The same ones his dream showed, where he kissed you the night after the first time. Only now, it was many years later, and he was the one in pieces as you kneeled behind him with gentle words and a sweet touch to bring him back to you.

His voice strained with a rasp, as if he had been yelling fiercely, despite silent in his sleep. “I’m sorry I woke you.” Shaking your head, you leaned back down into his neck muttering not to be. You felt his back lean more into your touch, his free hand rising up to run his hands through what he could of your hair, his fingers dancing through the soft strands with a sigh like he felt relieved. It took him a good minute to say anything, as if finding the courage too. “Normally they don’t wake me up like that.”

Your hand free along his chest run along the skin you could reach, feeling his muscles relax each passing motion. “You called my name out.” Your voice just a tender mumble in his ear. “Right before you woke up, you called to me quietly, like you were afraid.” His brows furrowed, you only nuzzling the side of his head more. “You don’t have to tell me, Jon. It’s alright.”

Shaking his head, he swallowed back down that fear now that he could feel and hear you in what he knew was the present. “It wasn’t just one thing.” You didn’t let go of your hold on him as he spoke. “It was about us, at first. When we were younger, then..everything kept changing. I was back at Hardhome, then Castle Black the night they murdered me. And you-” Jon dared not tread into the screams and sight of you he saw. Refusing to even bring it up to you, not just remind you of it, but not wishing for you to know he dreamt of it near every night. You leaned more into him with a tighter grasp, even as Jon relaxed more. “Then...I don’t know. I’ve dreamt of it before but I never figure out what it is. I was in a field..a battle..I was on the ground about to die when I tried calling out to you, then I heard your voice and I woke up.”

A gentle whisper in his ear, “We all have nightmares sometimes-”

“Like the ones you pretend you don’t get every night?” It wasn’t an accusatory tone, but it caught you off guard. Pulling back only enough to look over his shoulder more at him in a wide eyed question before he shook his head. “If you get to comfort me after mine, why don’t I get to after yours?”

Voice very quiet, but you knew Jon always heard you. “You’d never get any sleep if you did.”

Jon actually chuckled deep in his chest, a small bemused smirk coming over him as he turned somewhat to try and meet your eyes. Letting go of the hand over his heart to try and reach back to you, feeling the ends of your hair as his grey eyes grew a bit brighter looking at you. “I’m awake to know when you have a nightmare more then you think I am.” Asking why, almost in a purposefully playful tone to ease him back into things Jon only let his fingers trace over your cheek that he could reach. “Whose going to protect you if I’m asleep?”

Heart tight, you leaned more to grasp at him now as if for your sake. “We protect each other.” Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you gently pulled at him to follow as you moved behind. “Come on, we still have a little while before the baby wakes up.”

Instead of Jon resuming how he normally slept, on his side pulling you firm into his chest, you took the reigns with a gentle hand. Laying a bit more up against the bed, and pulling Jon down to rest more against your front. His hands able to grasp onto either side of you as he lay somewhat on his front and side against you. His legs reaching the end of the bed whereas yours higher up didn’t go nearly as far. One hand ran over his shoulder and back, the other not hesitating to find his curls and run your fingers through them, never allowing them to snag on a strand.

Mumbling into your front, you could tell how quickly Jon was fading back into sleep. “We’re not laying like this every night.”

A gentle laugh you weren’t even sure if it hit his ears as his breathing evened out against you. Always the one to comfort you, you suspected sometimes Jon forgot he had been through just as much pain and horror. That he still had things to haunt him. Your eyes tore between looking up to the stone ceiling, and back down watching Jon sleep as your hands never ceased running through his curls.

You knew come morning he likely wouldn’t be very willing to admit what had been in his dreams specifically, but you felt thankful he at least allowed you to give him this. That he allowed himself to be held by you for once, not to push down his struggles for your struggles.

By the time the sun peeked through the windows, you weren’t sure you slept much after that. Dozed off a few times, but you knew most of the time you had never let go of Jon or your gentle touch. By the looks of where the brightness was in the sky, Jon would’ve been awake before you by this point, but still his muscles felt dead to the world.

Glancing over, it was as if as long as Jon was asleep this deep, so was his son. You’d have to wake him soon to feed him, but both wolf and pup were as gone to the waking world as the other. A gentle knock at the door though, your eyes flew down to Jon, but still he did not stir. A smile crept on your lips, and this you had begun the painful process of sneaking out from his touch. Still asleep his brows furrowed as he reached out to grab at you, but you prompted him more to relax, laying on his front.

Leaning down, you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, your hands running down his back gently before getting up from the bed. Pulling something warm over you quickly just to cover up modestly, you creaked the door open only enough so that you could be seen and nothing else.

Both Sam and Olly seemed to have been bantering over something as they stood outside the door, but much to both their surprises, you were not who they expected. Part of you could only wonder, how often did Jon open the door in the early hours of the morning sending people off not to disturb you while still asleep, yourself. Your voice a quiet tone to try and ensure they didn’t speak too loudly. “What is it?”

Looking to Olly, it seemed you being there had taken them both off guard. Sam attempting to sound as normal as possible, as if otherwise he’d be coming off as awkward. “Well, I was just hoping to see Jon about something-”

“Is it urgent?” Sams head jolted back a bit by your more stern question, even moreso when you repeated yourself. “Is it urgent? Does he have to speak to you right now, or can it wait?” Sam only commenting that of course it could wait, and interrupted before he could say anything else. “Good. Now..now isn’t a good time.”

You could tell for a moment that Sam’s instinct was to make a joke about much more physical affairs, as if that was one he’d normally make to Jon. But meeting your eyes, there was something he could see in them that told you would not take that very well, for whatever it was it was serious he seemed to pick up. “I only thought, because Jons normally-” Shaking his head to cut himself off did he change routes. “If you could just tell him that I need to talk to him about something, sometime today.”

Nodding firmly, “Of course.” Sam looked at you and then Olly before making his way. Your glance at Olly though, was more hesitant. Part of Jons dream he said, that night at Castle Black. The Olly in front of you now was very different no doubt then the one holding a knife that night, but still you thought. Jon didn’t often have so blatantly bad dreams, and you wanted to take care of him as he would you. “Maybe, you should come back later too.”

Olly’s brows furrowed, “Is everything alright?”

He didn’t buy your smile, nor did it last long enough on your face for it to be meant too. “It is, it’s..” Trying to put it as diplomatically as possible, you didn’t want any hint of guilt put on the boy for something that had been long discussed over again. “It’ll just be a slower start to the morning is all. Jon needs time before everything else today.”

Hesitating at your expression, but he did not fight you. “I understand, your grace. Should I pass that onto the maids?” Asking if he would please, Olly too made his leave as you closed the door.

The timing couldn’t have worked better, as one stirred awake before the other. A small sound crying into the morning air of the bedchambers, little Eddard breaking a smile out onto you without delay. Walking over to his cradle, you leaned down to let your hand rest at his front. “And how were your dreams last night?” Just a small babble with a smile did his make yours grow wider. “Good. At least one of you had an easy night.” Picking the baby up into your arms, he wasn’t yet impatient to be fed, just leaning into you as you held him more high against your chest to rest against at first. One hand holding him firmly, the other resting comfortingly along his back, not unlike the exact manner you had done lulling Jon back to sleep.

Looking over, you turned so the baby too could see him. Little head turning as he still rested it against you, a hand reaching out with a tiny cry as you smiled. Looking at Jon then the baby with a whisper, “Let him sleep more, silly boy. You and I can get through one morning on our own without him.”

By the time Jon stirred awake, his voice was a grumbling husk so heavy with sleep his accent was thick to follow. Glancing over to his side of the bed, Jon had turned onto his side facing you, letting his elbow prop him up to watch you closely. “Wish I could make up to this more often.”

You laughed gently, leaning against the headboard, you held the baby to your breast to feed, a tired but relax look on your face as you had been gazing down at the baby and even brighter now looking at Jon. “You could if you let yourself sleep in more.”

Shaking his head, Jon pushed up right away. Coming up to your side, and slinking his arms behind you and tugging you into him without jostling the baby. Kissing the skin below your ear before Jon rasped into it, “I can’t take care of you if I’m asleep and you’re not.” Muttering with a playfulness that he didn’t always have to take care of you, Jons brows furrowed as if you said something ludicrous. “Of course I do.” His lips pressed firmer to the hair at the side of your head, leaning down against you as his hand wrapped around to your waist and his other traced along your front. Pushing the material of your shift up, not for any indecency but so he could freely run his hand along your stomach, smoothing over the scar that matched the fatality in his.

The morning quiet for a few minutes as you both watched your son feed from you, Jon unable to help himself most of the time from turning into your hair with his lips to follow. Sometimes trailing down to your neck, but never yet pushing it too far. One hand always against your stomach quite firmly, as if so you always could feel he was there.

Neither of you yet spoke about his nightmare, but at least for the time being, there was peace between the three of you as long as you stayed in the little bubble of Jons chambers together. If only it lasted.

Forearms leaned across the table, your fingernails dug mindlessly into the wood as your face felt permanently twisted in thought. It had felt like that for the past hour, the men around you all discussing more then you could comprehend all together and eventually you found yourself lost in the whirlwind of theory and information being shared.

Having started from the top, the original intention was to relay everything of what they knew now and what occurred to both Stannis and Ser Davos, only for the interrupting figure of Ser Royce entering the room before they begun, his tone rough and on the side of doubtful, but when on this topic, doubt was something Jon was very used to being sent his way. “If the Queen is right, and these things are responsible for what happened to my son, then I want to hear about it. All of it.”

More then once your eyes would turn from the table, head spinning just enough to look over your shoulder to where the door to the side room was still partially open. On the fur laid out by the fire, Gilly was sat with little Sam, an easy to read book in her hands, and Sam in her lap as she slowly and quietly read the words. Helping Sam point along to each she read, sometimes prompting him to say certain ones back. A bit beside her, you could see the small cradle on the ground as well where your son was laying.

Sometimes you’d look and he was unmoving, clearly asleep. Other times you’d hear the occasional faint sound coming from him as a limb would move. If it was loud enough, Gilly sometimes would turn from Sam to give the baby bright smiling attention with ease. This time however when she glanced upward, with a more nervous swallow and bite to her lip did she look wearily at you. An attempt to act as if she was still looking at you in a normal way, but the manner she diverted her gaze quickly back down to little Sam told that she knew she couldn’t keep it up for long.

Eyes glancing back to the discussion around you, your shoulders deflated, feeling like your brows furrowed more and you turned inward on yourself. Pretending you didn’t feel Jons gaze on you each time your mood grew more dour each time Gilly would no longer talk to you.

Around you though, a thorough discussion was being had as the question was brought up, asked by Ser Davos as he gestured to you. “Why her though? I only mean both times wights attacked any of you in a group, they always went for her first.” Many things tossed about at first, being a woman, looking the most venerable, or that maybe you were simply just convenient in both instances.

Sam shook his head at most. “Nothing I’ve been able to find says anything about that. During the Long Night, they make no mention that women or children were exempt or special in anyway when the dead came through.”

Tormund rumbled from where he sat, giving Jon a more knowing look drenched in a darkness shared between a horror none here but them had seen. “Boys right. When they hit us at Hardhome, it didn’t matter who was in their way. A whole group of those things were children when they attacked Karsi.” Jon only muttering roughly to add that then she too was woken up into one of them.

It was your father who brought it up, directed at Sam. “You killed one of them, with a piece of obsidian. What happened before then, that could possibly tell us anything?”

That time it was Sam whose eyes went over to Gilly, but instead of a fear he once may have still held, there was something more brave in him finally as he spoke of it. “It didn’t care about me at all. It just threw me out of the way trying to get to Gilly. Or, well, she said it was here for the baby.”

Jons face twisted downward as he looked away, eyes closing for the length it took to roughly exhale through his nose before answering the why being asked in result. “Because that’s what Craster was doing to his sons.” All eyes looked at him, and yours barley flickered over as well with a knowing that only made you feel heavy in your limbs. “Everytime one of his wives had a baby boy, he’d wait until nightfall, then take them out to the woods and leave them there. So the Others could take them.”

“How do you know that?” Jon met Benjens gaze who looked the most like he believed it but still something exasperated in his tone that most all held hearing it now. “His wives used to say strange things about it, that they were gifts to the gods but I never..”

Swallowing rough once more, Jons hands braced against the table curled more into fists as if to relieve the tension somewhere. “I saw it. I followed Craster in the woods one night, and saw him leave his son out there. And I saw what came and took it away.” The wide look in his grey eyes as he found Sam, head tilting with something of a silent apology trying to follow. “It was there for the baby. Probably came to collect, and when the mutineers took over the keep, it went looking for the child.”

The glance shared between Meera and Bran caught both your and Jons attention. “We heard a baby in the middle of the woods, early on before we were captured by those men.”

Bran nodded, his eyes finding Jons as if too putting things together at just how close to this winding mystery they all were at separate times. “I went out in Summers mind trying to see what was happening, but before I did, I saw Ghost.” Jon standing up a bit straighter with a narrowing in his eyes. “They had him locked up in a cage, but Summer fell into a trap before I could see anything else. The next morning when we went to go look, was when they found us.”

Jon looking to Sam with something a bit more agitated playing close to his chest, “You and Gilly were already at Castle Black when that happened. Which means it was another boy they-” Cutting himself off in thought, Jon forced the thought through without blame for the women, he knew it wasn’t their fault for it. “They must have convinced Karl and the rest that it needed to be done.”

But Bran had pointed out what the glaring issue was as he mentioned to you, “But neither time they attacked her had anything to do with the baby. He wouldn’t even have been born when she got attacked at the Nightfort, and north of the Wall they attacked her when she was alone. If they wanted the baby, wouldn’t they have gone right for him, just like the Others did with Sam and Gilly?”

That time, you and Jon knew everyone saw the uncertain look shared between you. Neither of you tried to hide it, nor did either of you hide what expressions followed. Jons with that of frustration, yours much more of something helpless and defeated as you turned to look back at your nails still failing to scratch into the wooden surface. “What? What is it?”

Jon chose the hard path, but too the direct one. “In both times, the Nightfort and that day in the Haunted Forest. She was there both times, but what about her is different then anyone else was who was there too?”

A woman was out, as Meera and Yara were present the second time. The second time could’ve been called an easy target when alone but you were in the room with Theon the first, and Tormund and Olly both were just outside the room when it happened. You were unarmed properly the second time but armed the first. All options thrown about seemed to go nowhere until it dawned on one of them.

It seemed fitting that it first came from Bran. “The Andals.” Most eyes looked to him, but Jons only looked to yours. You felt them, but didn’t look at up at them. “The four at the Nightfort, and when we were north of the Wall. We’re all descendants of the First Men, but she isn’t.”

Tormund looked to him in a doubt, “I’ve seen my people and southerners alike get carved up by those things. Didn’t matter who they were.”

Bran kept going, his eyes narrowed as if putting it together in his mind from pieces he knew, pieces he saw, and everything else he’s head. “That was before, when the Nights Watch and Free Folk were both constantly north of the Wall. They still had men to collect for an army at that point.” Jon looked over to Tormund with a nod, Hardhome. An attack meant to collect the Free Folk left and gain the most of their army from what was far North they could, and they succeeded in the tens of thousands. Sam asking what that had to do with you being a descendant of the Andals, but again Jon caught your eye.

Yours were wide but with hardly any brightness in them, a tilt of your head slightly to the side to indicate that he should just say it. That at least, was something you both knew, for better or worse, though most of it continued to point to worse. “In some way, we know parts of each others languages. The Others using old runes to leave messages. The old stories say the Long Night ended with one man finding a way to defeat the Others, but we know better. One man isn’t enough to lead a battle to victory, not against them.” Jons eyes trapped back not dissimilar to somewhat of the disturbed way they looked when he awoke so violently that morning. “I killed one of them with Longclaw, and then one raised up tens of thousands they just killed. That was a message too. That it doesn’t matter how many of them I or any one else kill, they’ll always have more power against us then we do them.”

Leaning more to where Jon stood, Sam asked “What are you saying?”

That time when Jon looked at you, you knew you failed at giving him anything comforting, as if it all had left that morning behind safe in his chambers and had no part out with everyone else anymore. But his eyes were soft, trying to assure you, but you felt too distant and strained in your chest to be able to understand what he said in any specific of the silence. “The Dawn Age started when the First Men made peace with the Children of the Forest. Some treaty not to fight each other anymore. We may have enough weapons and dragon glass to defend ourselves and the people we love, but not enough to take down an army of that size. And we know we didn’t kill them. If we did, they wouldn’t be here now. They just left.”

Stannis put it together in words as some were still connecting it. “You’re saying that the First Men made an arrangement of peace with the Others?” Jon nodded with his muscles rather tense. “What does that have to do with their attacks on my daughter?”

“If they made some kind of deal to end it, it was thousands of years before the Andals ever came over to Westeros. They may not know the difference between the Free Folk and the Northerners living on the other side of the Wall, but they know the difference between the people they made a deal with, and the ones that they never agreed to have peace with.”

A loud scratch had you nearly flinching, the right painful degree of pressure pushed downwards to scratch into the rough wooden table just as you matched in how hard you bit down on your tongue, keeping your face twisted but unmoving, and hopefully to any but Jon, unreadable.

Tormund and Sam both brought up that they attacked the free folk, Northerners, and they didn’t care, but Jon too had an answer that you both knew, was far more confident then a man just figuring it out as he spoke them. “It could be two options.” First looking to Tormund, “They saw your people as necessary casualties to build their army.” The second he looked to the rest of them. “Or they see our mixing with Southerners as breaking whatever deal the First Men made thousands of years ago.”

Shaking his head, Sam looked as in disbelief as everyone else, only he had the courage to say something about it. “What kind of deal-” Jon only muttered that he had no idea, that it was over eight thousand years ago, which Sam relented. “Any information on the Long Night since has all but disappeared, I suppose that disappeared as well. But why now? The Andals came over four thousand years ago, the Rhoynar not long after that, why only wake up now?”

It was not lost on either of you, that you said it, so Jon didn’t have to trap himself in what could’ve come off as a lie. “That’s what we are still trying to figure out. We have ideas, but not the whole picture.” It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t quite the truth, and your nails continuing to carve into the wood meant you missed the grateful but needing look Jon had given you for it knowing he didn’t know how to say it or even what to say about it. Neither of you hardly understood it yet as much as you knew.

Ser Davos asked a very good question however, “How do you know that? The Andals and the First Men, how can you be sure that’s why they’d attack her instead of any of you?” Jon only saying that he and you went beyond the Wall in the first place to find answers like that. “So, what do we do? If whatever this treaty existed doesn’t apply anymore, what do we do?”

Jons answer was tinted in more vagueness then he was letting off, but it still was the right one. “Exactly what we’ve been doing. Prepare to fight, and hope the rest of the Kingdoms join us before it’s too late.”

Sitting down, his hand running over his face, Ser Royce looked up to Jon. “I never knew your father to be a man to lie in such outlandish ways, Jon Arryn himself raised him to value the truth. I may not know what the rest of the Lords in the Vale will think about any of this, but if Ned Stark were the one telling me all of this, I’d believe him. Which means I have every reason to believe what his son is telling me now.”

Jon nodded, a strain in his low tones. “I’m not asking you to believe me without question, but I’ve seen what the Others can do. Sam’s seen it, Tormund’s seen it. What the army of the dead will do to us if they breach the Wall, and even if the North somehow manages to protect itself, you, your people, no one in the south will be safe. And the Others won’t care how much you didn’t believe us.”

You could see why Ser Royce would be a man that greatly respected Ned Stark, the blunt manner he got to the point without being rude about it. “If I did choose to believe all this, what would you have us do?”

Right away Jon had an answer, and a powerful one. “Train. Your people all need to train. Spears, pikes, sword, bow and arrow. Every man who can hold a stick needs to be able to fight, and if they all fall, then your women and children need to know how to fight all the same.”

Leaning forward, he had the same expression that many of the men in the hall had the day Jon said it to the North. The same one that your father and Ser Davos now were wearing as Ser Royce said it. “My youngest granddaughter’s tenth nameday is this year. Do you expect me to put a sword in her hand when she’d barley be able to hold it up?”

Your nails only dug deeper, to the point you wondered if the stinging you were feeling was actually drawing blood, but you had not the will to drag your hand from it’s position to do so as Jon said it. “If winter doesn’t kill us all before I get a chance to have a daughter of my own, I won’t hesitate to train her exactly as I will my son.”

You knew no doubt to the southern men, all fathers in their own rights looked at Jon as if he had said something completely mad. But, your eyes only tore up to the side to look at your fathers, a narrowing glare to not stay in silence when you knew he understood Jon was right. Whether or not he felt pressure from you, or he found it willing in him to say it, did Stannis speak up in Jons defence. Saying your name as you hadn’t yet looked away from your father in a stare that could only be described as eerily matching of his own. “She came home to Dragonstone at twelve, someone had begun to teach her the basics of sword fighting while she was gone. I didn’t like it, I had never intended for her to learn. Fighting wasn’t for girls. But, she already started, and it would be a waste to let those lessons go nowhere. So I kept them going. I could only imagine how unprepared for this threat or the world she would be now, if no one bothered to start her on that path in the first place.”

Neither of you said anything how he had somehow figured out it was Jon, nor did you suspect Jon knew either. Only feeling his eyes in the back of your head as he spoke. “Ser Royce, I can only tell you what I told my people when they said the same thing as you. I hate every single time she’s anywhere near a fight or battle, but I’d never want to take away the fact that knowing how to defend herself has saved her own life more then I ever have.”

Were you not in a room with so many people, or your nails finally wanting you to scream in pain, you might have looked up to him with a brightness that Jon would know was a protest. You knew how to defend yourself because of him, even if he didn’t swing the sword in every instance, you still owed all of it to Jon for knocking you to the dirt in the courtyard with a training sword in the first place.

Ser Royce sat in thought, “I cannot promise anything, and I won’t until I know in my soul this all is true, but I could speak to the other Lords of the Vale. At least push the stubborn old bastards in the right direction.” Glancing at him, his face didn’t change any from how rough it was but his tone did take on what felt like a rare jest towards Jon. “No offence meant of course.”

You could hear Jon actually withholding a bit of a smirk. “No offence taken, my lord. There’s nothing you could say that I haven’t heard dozens of times already.”

A crack of a smile came over the man in return. “You’re your fathers son, no doubt.”

Only then did your eyes look over to Jon, and you knew only you had seen the flash over the greys that spoke much like something distant and disturbed again like that morning. Whatever this dream was in detail, it felt as if it wasn’t the first time he had it. Just the first time you had woken up with him when he awoke from it so suddenly.

The last to get up, it wasn’t until you felt a warm hand grab at your wrist, pulling your hand up from where it felt like it was melted to the table. Your fingertips shaking slightly as blood was clearly dripping from them, somewhat too coated as if it had been doing so a while. Nervous eyes glanced up to Jon, his own narrowing in a worried disbelief as he found the spot you had been carving into.

Prompting you to stand with his other hand finding your waist, Jon turned to Sam with as much of an even tone as he could despite you knew he felt otherwise not calm. “Sam, could you and Gilly watch the baby a little longer?”

It was discreet, the way Sams eyes looked from Jon down to where he clearly had a hold on your wrist and the sight more of blood, but with wider eyes trying to hide as neutral he nodded. “Of course, whenever you’re...finished.” Jon muttered a thank you, but you felt Sams eyes on you as Jon turned to walk you out.

Motioning for you to lean against the wall as he closed the door behind him, you sighed shakily before he came close to your front. Without saying much, Jon grabbed at your hips, lifting you with a gesture to sit back on the high table behind you, “There you go.” Looking over there only seemed to be two which had bled, eyes scouring for any sharp shards of wood he must have come to the conclusion whatever you scraped them so hard against was attached to the table not in your skin.

Hidden from his side, did he pull out wrappings, one hand holding yours up he lifted his other to use his teeth tearing at the fabric to make smaller strips before gently wounding them around each finger. “I’ll clean this later, but this will do for now.” Asking in a gentle voice if he just kept that on him, did he surprise you. Eyes peeking up with more of a playfulness and smirk to match, “I know who I’m married too.”

One finger then the next, before using the third to wrap around both and your hand in general, did his brows begin to furrow a little. “Jon?”

Shaking his head with a sigh he didn’t look away from his work. “Soon enough your hands will be covered in more scars then I am.” Your head tilted almost in a bemused disapproval, and too did he smirk before continuing. “I know you weren’t seeing anything.” A single shake of your head no. “Do you want to tell me what happened this time?”

With a sigh, you finally found it in you not willing to look away from him. “Everything we know, and it still doesn’t feel like enough.” Glancing up to you with a furrowed brow, Jon finished tying the wrappings off before pulling your hand up to press a kiss to the skin still exposed. Letting it sit in your lap with your other as he cupped the side of your head, leaning in with gentle eyes as you finished. “Sometimes it gets to me.”

Running his thumb over your cheek, he gave a small shift to a more stern expression. “You get hurt enough as it is. You can’t be doing it to yourself.” Leaning down more to meet your eyes properly, you gave him a nod. Which for now, he accepted without words to follow from you. His other hand coming up to your waist, sitting a bit low closer to your hip.

Keeping your eye, he slightly grasped at the skirt of your dress, pulling it enough that your lips parted, a fluster rising in your chest. Jons smirk grew as he only moved it enough to give him proper room to stand between your legs. Shifting his hand so the thumb on your cheek could now tilt you by the bottom of your chin to look up at him. Where the inclination came from, you weren’t entirely sure, but the tone you said it with while not at all seductive, there was a purposeful innocence about it that Jon knew was no accident. “My King?”

Eyes closing, Jon let out a rough exhale. His jaw clenched as he murmured your name in warning. “Don’t.” Asking what specifically, you felt his hand both at your waist and more by your jaw tighten as his eyes begun to bleed the grey into a darker colour. “Don’t tempt me here.”

You knew you were pushing it, a small grin fighting it’s way onto your face. “I didn’t say anything, my King.” A roughly muttered word of stop, and your hands reached up to rest at his shoulders. “I only ask if there’s anything you need. The King takes such good care of his people, he deserves to be rewarded-”

Both of you knew it was a trap you were setting, but Jon let himself walk right into it. Grabbing both of your cheeks, Jon pulled you up into him to press his lips to yours. Sliding a hand right away to the back of your neck, keeping you there in his hold. Your hands slipped to his waist to steady yourself, only able to follow Jons command.

His lips were so soft, guiding you deeper and deeper as you felt a whine in your chest travel up for him to capture. A growl rumbling deep in his chest, never parting from you for more then half a second and certainly never enough to let you gasp for air. Leaning more over you, Jon tilted your head back even more, nowhere for you to escape his kiss.

He didn’t even need too, the bite to your lip causing you to part the, so his tongue could slide into your mouth. You would’ve done so for him without being asked, but Jon had other ideas. Ones that had his hand on your cheek drift down. Grasping at your waist with a tightness, did he step forward. Too many layers between you, but enough bulk sat low attached to his person that you’d feel it at least brushing to your inner thighs. A tease of what you could have if you were anywhere else.

Running his hand down your thigh, he gripped tightly the edge of the skirt of your dress as low as it was, the temptation to yank it up growing more and more appealing to him. Brushing his tongue against yours as you let out a higher pitched moan, Jons hand fisted the hair at the back of your neck through his fingers tightly. Readjusting his hold more and more, as if telling you like a wolf that you were under his control. Which his strength certainly spoke of that. Letting go of your dress, Jon shamelessly let his hand drift up the skin of your leg, squeezing your thigh roughly until he got to his destination.

Pulling back, the saliva trailed between your lips as he watched with hooded eyes as yours barley fluttered open up to him. Rasping low and roughly, “It’s like you want me to take you where anyone can find us.”

Looking up at him, there was a lightness in your heart, but a breathlessness caused by him as you said it so genuinely. “Like you said, we’re married, and you’re King. You can take me anywhere you want, any time you want.” Eyes bleeding black, Jons gaze twisted looking over you as his hand roamed under your dress to the nothing in his way.

Suddenly his large hand covered you completely, a gasp letting out as he yanked you back to his lips. A biting roughness as he kissed you deep that had your hands tighten against him. The feeling of his fingers thick along your folds finding out all over again just how quickly his simple touch and kiss could make you wet. Toying with the idea of sinking two inside of you then and there until a rather loud clearing of a throat hit both of your ears.

There was no hiding it, Jons hand shoved up the skirt of your dress and the rough, possessive hold of your hair as he kissed you. You sitting on a high surface legs wide enough for Jon to even stand between them in the first place. But what was worse, was that the throat clearing was followed by the worst possible voice lecturing your name that could’ve been.

If your horrifically embarrassed jump and gasp spoke of one reaction, Jon somehow spoke of a whole other. Pulling from your lips, both his hands eased. One gentle as he ran it smooth down your leg once more before seeking the edge of your dress and pulling it back down modestly, before running it along your waist in a firm manner. The hand in your hair running down it smoothly as he nudged your nose with his gentle to say without words to let him speak for you.

Unable to stop the small grin bright on his handsome face as you nodded, heart racing too much to think. Gently grabbing both your hips to help you down, but Jon was subtle at least. One hand polite at your lower back, the other grabbing your injured, or more recently injured hand in his, running over the fresh wrappings. Moving your fingers in a way that it was clear that at least at some point in the encounter, did he dress a wound for you to distract.

Which your fathers gaze flickered down to it right away, noticing it with a small narrow before again sternly looking back to Jon. Ser Davos stood beside him, trying as hard as he could not to look thoroughly entertained by all of this thus far.

“I was hoping to speak to you alone on a matter.”

Addressing Jon specifically, he kept his calm as if nothing happened despite how flustered you stood beside him. “Of course.” Pulling you more into his side, Jon cupped the other side of your head to press a kiss to your hair, muttering just loud enough that they’d be able to hear it. “If you want to go get the baby, I’ll meet both of you when your father and I are done. Alright?” A nervous look was clear in your eyes as you nodded. The silence following as you made your way back into the room, praying to the Mother that neither of them would say anything to Jon and just let the embarrassment fade away.

Sam always busying with something, sat reading and scribbling away at something. Looking up with a genuine smile, his quill in hand pointing over to the other room. “The little Prince is still with Gilly, nothing to worry.”

Pausing in your step, you turned back with something of a troubled look that tried to act as if it were merely banter. “You know Sam, you don’t have to use titles with me or him. It’s alright to call us by our names the way you do with Jon.”

Nodding a bit, Sam was easy to talk too. Very little judgment came over him no matter how awkward you stood there, now wrapped hand fidgeting with the other. “Old habit, I suppose.”

Mustering what you hoped was even part of a smile. “I understand. I married Ned Stark’s eldest son and right up until he died, I never could shake the habit of calling him Lord Stark.”

For a moment it seemed as if words had passed, you hardly even moving to the other direction when Sam spoke. Something more serious in his voice, and eyes. “What was he like?” Turning back with wider eyes, he spoke with a respect but still trepidation. “Robb Stark, I only know what little Jon told me about him, but he was his brother. He was your husband, and King in the North. It’s odd hearing so much about someone who had that big of an impact on the people in your life but will never meet.” Lips opening and closing, your heart felt heavier in the thought which Sam picked up on right away. “You don’t have to, of course. I was only wondering.”

Shaking your head, you moved a bit more into the room without committing to sitting anywhere near where he was. A barrier you put up that Sam had detected, as if without Jon by your side, he had hardly ever seen you exist in a room with people and feel comfortable. “No, it’s fine. I- I suppose I’m just not much of a story teller, but, if there was anything you’d like to know specifically?”

The easy manner Sam laughed was relieving a bit, that it wasn’t directed at you. “I’m aware of that at least. Jon told me once that you never had a very good imagination.” That had you laugh lightly, Sam to join moreso as you muttered that he was correct. “What did it feel like? Learning you were to marry one Stark, but not the one you’d been with for years?”

Almost as if a nervous girl you glanced to the closed door, no doubt Jon having left with your father and Ser Davos already. Looking back to Sam, your brows furrowed a bit, hands still fidgeting. “It was confusing at first. My father told me there was no choice, that King Robert had ordered it. Only for me to speak to him myself, and he told me that my father had come to him, insisting on the match out of nowhere.” Asking why, you inhaled the nerves and attempted to exhale that feeling you had in the Black Cells realizing that very thing. “My father leaned the truth about Joffery, and he knew that made him Robert’s true heir. If he suspected war was coming, he knew marrying his eldest daughter to the heir of Winterfell would put the North in his pocket.”

The casualness which Sam would jest things, even with someone like you, made it easy to understand why Jon would’ve liked Sam so quickly. “So much for that plan.” You broke a small, silent smile in agreement. Letting him follow up in questions himself. “Now, I’m not asking to be rude, or question your time with Robb, again I’m only curious-”

Your tone gentle as it was a little amused. “Just ask it, Sam.”

“If Jon had come to you with that idea. If it were more then just a fantasy in his head, coming to you and bringing you far North to just be together instead, would you have done it?” Your eyes were wide, asking him where he heard about that. “Jon told me. Once he opened up about you, it was like I couldn’t get him to stop talking about you.”

Again your eyes drifted to the door where he wasn’t outside of it, drifting just slightly to the side where you knew your son with him was, but too did you feel the scar under your clothes and the question wasn’t as easy to answer as you thought. Perhaps it was more honest then it needed to be, perhaps it was the ease in which Jon had said in front of everyone, the future of a daughter you both didn’t even have yet as if it were without question to happen. The security of now, perhaps made the loss of before slip from your lips a bit more with honesty.

Not really looking at him, but just off to the side as if lost in memory. “Robb and I hardly had a chance to be husband and wife, and even less time to ever have a child together. Having that now with Jon, it means the world to me but...” You could still see him, brown curls always perfect in place and his bright blue eyes and warm soothing voice, not a single bit of him was gone from your memory. “Maybe there was someone out there better for him, a girl he’d love more or be happier with..but instead he had me. And no matter what, Robb deserved to be loved. And I don’t regret for one second being allowed to be the one to give that to him.”

The room was silent, nor did you have the strength to look at Sams reaction to such honesty from you of all people, but your head turned the very second a small sound was heard that you knew too well.

Muttering a mere, “Excuse me.” Not hearing what he said politely after as you gently opened the door. For only a moment did you have enough in you to not feel the lonely detachment as Gilly only referred to you as your grace, and no longer your name as bright green eyes sought yours, with arms holding themselves up.

Leaning down with a smile bright on you, the brightness too on little Eddard’s face grew as did the nonsensical sounds he gave you in return to your voice. “I missed you too, sweet boy.” Your fingers running along his front almost in a tickling motion, as he attempted to grasp at the loose strands of your hair in return. “Were you good for Gilly?” Just a babble, but your voice played right along with ease. “That better be the truth you’re telling me.”

“It is.” Your head turning somewhat to the side, Gilly with a more apprehensive look but life was more within them looking between you and the baby. “He’s very well behaved. You and Jon have done a good job.” You swallowed whatever that feeling was back down to interpret later, nodding with a thank you until your attention was forced back with that grasp of your hair.

“Alright, alright, come here, you.” Picking up the eager Eddard, as soon as he came close did the baby snuggle right into your front. Cupping the back of his head to press a kiss to the top of his you mumbled gently, “Let’s go get you fed, and if you’re lucky, grandfather will stop lecturing your father long enough that he might get back in time for your bath.” Turning more to her, you were more formal, and it was not lost on either of you how quickly it felt like whatever friendship had been brewing here was now lost. And neither of you were good enough at this to know how to mend it. “Thank you, Gilly.”

Luckily, the hall outside was empty save for two guards whom now never left your shadow. Thankfully for you, the two present didn’t feel the need to say much. But you knew with Ser Davos in the same walls as his son, it was only a matter of time before your embarrassment of getting caught by your own father would spread to Allard and Theon both, and gods protect you when they got hold of that kind of fodder to make fun of you with.

Jon tried not to think about it, the ease in which he relayed the details of that night with near as much anger as he felt in the moment, barley restrained beneath his words. The three of them stood in private, Jons anger across from the troubled look of Ser Davos and the withheld but perturbed expression of Stannis as the later considered his words carefully. “Littlefinger tried to have her killed before if the information you are telling me is correct. How can you be sure this wasn’t a leftover from a plan he previous had in place.”

His jaw was clenched roughly, the feeling of having to subtly let out the tense air from his lungs to even speak not lost on both men. “Their orders were to take her head, and bring it back to the person who ordered it. Littlefinger had been in Winterfell for weeks, and was dead for days by the time they showed up. If it was him, they’d have no one to bring it to, or even pay them.”

Ser Davos nodded in an agreement. “No use in trying to murder a Queen if they’re getting nothing out of it.”

Following up with what theories he had so far, Jon didn’t say anything for a moment. None of whom was involved had said anything about it, and Jon couldn’t be sure you’d want your father to know but here he was asking and he had to be honest. “It’s not a strong possibility, but there’s a chance Euron Greyjoy had something to do with it.”

“Greyjoy?”

He knew there was more personal of a history there. Stannis had been the one to defeat Euron and Victarion in battle at sea during the Greyjoy rebellion. His actions against their fleet were the reason Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon could get to Pyke to end it in the first place. So he nodded once, hands tense at his sides trying to explain it without reliving those hours all over again. “When we were north of the Wall, he sent men after us. Tried to kill me, and kidnap her to bring her to him.”

Much like you could be when holding back, Stannis had one word responses. “Why?”

There was a lot he left out, but there was no room in him to explain anything to do with your abilities, the facts were easier to work with in this scenario. “He wants the Iron Throne, and he wants her by his side when he gets it.”

Both older men gave the other a glance, Ser Davos himself knew about Euron from beyond the Greyjoy rebellion, and Jon could only wonder which would be more willing to give him that information. Ser Davos himself, or Allard, as the former spoke. “If he wants her by his side, why send assassins after her?”

Shrugging one shoulder, Jons voice was rough but even. “Maybe if he can’t have her, no one can, to a man like him. It might be a stretch, but I can’t rule it out.”

“I agree.” Nodding, Stannis had kept his calm more then Jon could’ve even pretended to do despite the information. “These assassins, they didn’t think to harm the boy?” Jon shook his head, affirming they never even tried to touch little Eddard, only making Stannis think more. “It would be someone then who doesn’t yet know you have a child together. Eventually most of the realm will hear it, some already have, but this was someone who didn’t have a clue. Otherwise they might have reconsidered their plan, or strategy at the least were they to know a child, an heir was in the picture.”

Voice more on an edge did Jon feel unable to hide it. “You’re saying they’d have gone after my son too if they knew about him?” Stannis only repeating what Jon had said previous, that he couldn’t rule it out.

Already the guard he had and the measures he had in place were as heavy as Jon could get without being overbearing towards everyone, but perhaps it helped that he knew he had most of it surrounding you, and normally the baby could be found with you or him, if not one close by. Back and forth they went, but Stannis changed the subject before Jon could even think to leave. “One more thing. You knew, about the one my daughter has been hiding here, the bastard boy.”

Jon tried very hard to ignore the smirk across Ser Davos’s face reacting to what came from his mouth next, with a bit of a jest in his eyes. “You might need to be more specific.” The two mens glances meeting just barley before Jon returned his attention to Stannis, whom was either not amused or didn’t pick up on the joke at all.

“One of Robert’s bastards, Gendry. She admitted to me that she brought him here and has been hiding his identity.” But the look in his eye too, was serious, as Jons was in the confidence he had in why you had made the choices regarding him in the first place.

“Aye.”

Hard to read, if the quick quirk raised in his brow was negative or positive with this man as his tone never changed once. “Am I correct to presume you knew about this?” Jon again nodded, with no shame nor anything to hide in him for it, if you had brought it up first it seemed. “If he is here, I would presume she told you of what happened. You don’t think it would be appropriate to inform me that you have someone here who was a prisoner of mine?”

“Gendry might have been your prisoner once, but he isn’t now.” Bringing up your name with more of a sternness, “She brought him here to protect him, because he is her blood and she doesn’t want to see any other members of her family dead more then she already has. Gendry may have been your prisoner once, but he’s also her family. And she’s my wife, my Queen. Which means he’s under my protection too. From anyone who might come looking for him.”

The stare between both men was difficult to read, neither knew the other well enough to determine the degree of possible hostility spoken amongst such words. But Stannis was at the least, a man who knew when to pick his battles, and when not too. “Very well. You’re roof, you’re decision.”

Jon could only watch as the man took his leave, Ser Davos not quite following as he turned halfway to watch until Stannis was out the door and back. “I think finally being a grandfather is making him soft.”

Were that not such a drastic image in his head compared to what soft meant to most men, Jon might have laughed instead of looking at Ser Davos incredulously. “That’s Stannis being soft?”

Tilting his head in an understanding amusement, he let the smirk come out more freely as well. “I’m the one who set Gendry free, you know. More then anyone else I knew how angry he was about it, and more then a few times did he bring it up as if I robbed him of a great opportunity.” Asking low of an opportunity for what, he appreciated how blunt Davos was. “The red woman put it in his head that she could perform her blood magic better with Kings Blood, and having him as a prisoner could mean she’d be able to use him for anything, including kill him in the name of her damned fire god.” Before Jon could say anything, he rounded himself back to the point. “I’d say his reaction to learning you let her hide Gendry here and not say anything, was basically nothing compared to how he’d feel just weeks ago.”

It wasn’t meant as a slight, Jon of all people understood that your family was as complicated as they came, but it was an awkward truth. “He’s been here for days, and he’s spent almost no time with the baby.”

The grimace was warranted from Ser Davos as he mentioned you by name. “During the war, the King went back and forth on the subject of if he wanted her as his heir or not. Now that they actually speak again, she’s all but told him she wants nothing to do with the Iron Throne, and now he watches her have a male heir of her own for a Kingdom that isn’t the one Stannis was fighting to rule. Not alone, at least.”

Jon made no comment on that, nor did Ser Davos say it for him to make any sort of point over it. But it was only honesty that came from Jon when he said it. “We didn’t have him because he would be my heir.” There was a narrowing in his grey eyes, but too something more raw. A confusion of why people kept looking at you three and assuming thats why he existed. “We had him because we wanted too, because I’ve always wanted a child with her. He’s not my heir he’s...just my son.”

A man of low birth and humble beginnings, as he put a comforting hand on his shoulder, Jon knew that Ser Davos of all people said it solely because he meant it in his heart too. “Most highborns in the south raise their oldest child like an heir. To some, Stannis included, they have a hard time looking at that child just as they are. He raised Shireen like a daughter.” Your name coming from his mouth with more of a grim truth. “But he didn’t raise her like one. Between you and me, I’d say he raised her with a bit of resentment. That she wasn’t born a boy. Having an heir would’ve been a lot easier for him if she had.”

A weight sat in Jons heart. You had said something similar, many months ago beyond the Wall. That you suspected your father always wished you were born a boy, but here a man so close to your fathers side echoed that very sentiment.

It didn’t help the feeling, but Jon suddenly could think of you and realize the problems always seemed to stem from much deeper inside you. How you think the people only ever look at you and see a Queen, how you still struggle to see past the fact that Jon looked at you as more then just a dutiful wife, and the simple fact that you were raised thinking that you were your fathers failed heir.

With everything in between, there was too much noise in your life. But you were more then that to Jon, more then all of that, you were everything to him. But you put nothing but title and duty and responsibility on your shoulders every time something happened, so maybe he thought, he needed to, just at least once, take all of that away from you.

And the wolf howling inside of Jon, had a dark and perverse way of knowing just how to do it.

You knew he heard you come inside, the door closing slowly behind you and the light footsteps approaching but Jon was content as he worked away it seemed, to just know you were there. Turned away, you could see his shoulders a bit tense, and were you to turn him to face you no doubt there would be a deep frown etched into his features which more then likely he had tried to run his hand exasperated over his face and failed to wipe the frustration off.

Laying happily against the fur before the fire, Ghost rose his head up as you approached. Hands and nails running freely over the fur by his ears. Leaning more and more into you, almost knocking you over with his sheer size with how he nudged his head more into your crouching front as if to cuddle. Were he standing no doubt he’d have done so. More of a huff left the direwolf, his eyes slipping closed as he lay back down against the fur much more content then he had been before.

Gently did you take off your heavier outer layers, fur cloak and warmer dress with just something lighter and soft underneath, watching Jon now, the whole time. For a moment did you stand by the cabinet wondering if he wished you to leave him in silence, when as if reading your mind did he speak with a tint of playfulness. “Will you come here already?”

A withheld smile came over you, coming up you let a hand come up to his hair, curls still up from the day and working to let them loose without really even considering it. Looking over his shoulder to him, your eyes naturally found their way to his work before quickly diverting back away. Only for Jon to chuckle, smirking as he didn’t even look up at you. “You’re allowed to read my letters.” Mumbling you didn’t want to invade his work, Jon only smirked more. “First you want to ease my workload by doing things like this for me, now you worry you’re not allowed to even know what I’m doing?”

The smile on you was soft, knowing the judgment in his tone was jesting far more then it was meaning. Still letting your fingers run through his curls, once again you wondered if in the next few days if he’d want the ends trimmed. Getting too long, was normally when Jon would tend to keep it up for much longer into the night not wishing to deal with it all. Your only response to his words as light in tone as he set it as. “I only want to do what’s best for you.”

Brows narrowing, Jon let the quill hover mid air before setting it down flat to look up at you. Not yet finding the words, he pushed back in his seat. Only as you went to give him room to stand, did Jon grab you by the arm, and yanked you down into his lap. A surprised yelp came along with a laughing scold of his name, Jon let his laugh out much more brightly and free as he turned you. Sitting across him with your arms around his shoulders and back of his neck, Jon grabbed your hips to make you face him more, your lower back now pressed against the wood of the desk.

One hand moving up to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, Jon trailed down its length still, toying with it before slinking up to cup your cheek. Muttering with his eyes roaming gently over what he could see of you, despite how yours stayed on the wandering greys no matter where they went or why. “Eddard?”

Your fingertips toyed a little with his curls in return. “With Bran and your sisters, like you suggested.” Only muttering a simple good, Jon continued to just let his eyes wander you freely as his thumb gently ran back and forth over the soft skin it touched at your cheek. Other hand on your hip warm and steady to keep you there. “May I ask why?”

Jon was good at getting the point. “Because I wanted you all to myself, and having our son here means I’m always fighting him for your attention.” Instantly you laughed, Jon following in a way that always made him look so handsome, such bright eyes as he did so like a laugh on him was a rare beauty. “Do you think I’m exaggerating? How often does he get mad at me when I kiss you?”

Leaning more towards him, Jon followed, the sides of your head resting against the other, Jon now able to run his hand freely down the hair along your back. “He’s just protective. Which he gets from you, you know.”

You felt his chuckle more then you could see it that time, but it was there all the same. “Which is why he’s not here. Our son would be very upset if he knew what I was planning on doing to his mother tonight.” A shiver ran down your spine, swallowing something devious as it only filled your blood and travelled to every corner of your veins, asking what that plan was exactly. Jon remained calm, not giving away at all what was in his mind, hand still smoothing down your hair. “It’s something I’ve mentioned before, but it’s alright if you don’t remember it.”

Pulling back, you looked at him more confused. “What are you talking about?”

Nudging you closer, Jon let his nose gently nudge at yours with a whispering rasp. “We’ll get there, don’t worry.” His lips meeting with yours before you had a chance to ask anything further, melting into his kiss and touch in an instant.

Your hands wrapping more firmly around the back of his neck, you felt Jon sift his fingers through the locks of your hair at the back of your head. Guiding you to follow, he didn’t yet deepen the kiss but refused you any air to move. Hands tightening where you held at him, and Jons hand on your hip too tightened as he bit at your bottom lip.

Only as you gasped, such an instinct to allow his tongue to slide inside your mouth did Jon not continue, but coax you slow back to something more chaste. Small nibbles did he bite as if teasing what he had done before, the sounds between you barley managing to include your small needs to breath until he bit at you once more, but harder. Were it any harder, it may have even drawn blood but pushed right to that edge with his kiss without ever letting you fall off of it.

Suddenly yanking you from his lips, Jon leaned forward as he turned your head slightly to the side. That rough need found the sensitive skin of your neck. Deep bites of his teeth followed by a sucking feeling as it to bruise along with the sharp marks made. Gasping out into the open air, a charged tingling ran from your neck down to your chest. From there a desire flooded your bloodstream only to increase as Jon further moved along, further marked your neck with a viciousness.

Only a brief gentle brush of his tongue and lips before he’d move on as a tiny soothe to his roughness, but still did he work you over harsher then even your nails dug into the skin of the back of his neck you held him at. You felt yourself leaning enough to give him more room, but with Jons grip on your hair you could barley move.

Shifting you by your hip did Jon move with you. Hidden beneath the layers, still could you feel a growing pressure that had Jon bite down rather harshly the moment he too moved you he could grind you down onto his growing length. The gasp from you sharp, as Jon pulled away from your neck but not at all ceasing his other movements. Cupping your cheek, he turned you to him with gentle shushes on his lips. “I’m sorry, darling, I know.”

Not even granting you the protest he knew you’d give for his rough treatment, he captured you in a kiss once more. That time it was much slower, guiding your lips to mould with his as he deepened it without the urgency of before. His hands though, both now were at your hips, subtle as he moved you down onto his covered cock.

Pulling back enough to rasp low, “Come on.” His hold moving you to stand up with him, steadying you on your feet with you grabbing more to his shoulders. Wide eyes looking up at him, Jon cupped both your cheeks. Bright his face shined but with something that one could mistaken as sad, if not the tighter hold he took of you, standing close enough you could feel his breath hot dance across your skin. “I need to take all this off you.”

Gesturing down to your dress, Jon kissed you once more to steal away your breath. Sliding down your neck on one side, the other where his teeth had sunk into you did he trace along your hair instead before seeking your dress. Hands quick as he let go of your kiss to grab at the skirt and instantly move to pull it up and off of you. Wasting not a second, as if in a hurry did he follow with your shift leaving you bare in the cold of his chambers.

Swallowing, Jon held at your waist looking down with black bleeding into the grey of his wandering eyes. Smooth his palm was running from your waist up and down to your hip once more, before your voice soft and a bit unsure seemed to break the spell. “Jon?” Eyes peering up at you, you hoped he could see the nerves flowing through you at his silence. Your hands grasped lightly at the belt strapped across his person still.

As if once he had gotten in, he removed his weapons and had not the mind to do a single other thing to get comfortable. Instead of letting him wash you over with a fluster of a comment he could make, you made a point to look down and back to his eyes. He only nodded a yes.

Cold and bare you stood there, taking the time and care you always did undressing him, and not even sparing how much you were respectful of his clothes when Jon had simply tossed your own to the side when he had it off your skin. Kneeling down to his boots, you exhaled with hope it was silent as you felt his hand run along your hair.

Truthfully, you had thought nothing of it. Reaching for the laces of his breeches, only to have your hands snatched by his. “Don’t.” You couldn’t grasp how much you had made his cock throb, the wide innocence as you peered up at him while bare on your knees, an ask in your eyes as if wondering what you did wrong. Shaking his head, his rasp came strained. “We’re not doing that. I don’t know if I can even trust you with that again.”

Waving through your heart was something full of an immense guilt right away, Jon only pulled you to your feet. Tilting you by your chin to look at up at him right as you spoke. “I’m so sorry, Jon. I promise, I am.”

Leaning to brush his nose down yours, he sounded just as strained but with that tenderness which came you warm still in your heart. “I know you are, but..it’ll take time. It’s not easy trying to make sure you’re alright when you do that, and last time I completely missed that you weren’t.” Trying to protest that wasn’t his fault, Jon again cupped your cheeks. “You didn’t want me to notice, but that’s on me. I should’ve known better. That I struggle to go easy on you. You were hoping that would happen, but I never should’ve let it get that far.”

Your hands held at his shoulders, muscles tense from trying not to fidget so openly despite how you had to bite down on your lip just to stop it from a quiver. “Are..will you never want me to..”

Brushing his lips to yours, it was barley what you could call a kiss as he mumbled against them. “Until I can trust you with you’re own well being, I’m taking care of you from now on. Not the other way around, and that’s final.” You once more, couldn’t know how much Jons cock begged to be released from their restraints at how you had obediently nodded in agreement.

Everytime it was an order he gave you, you never questioned it and it drove Jon mad. Especially when it had to do with this.

Nudging you backwards as he told you to lay back on the bed, Jon only watched with darkening eyes as you slowly did so. The fur against your back was soft and comforting, the opposite of the darkness watching you. Until you were laid back, propped up with your palms behind you did Jon reach for the laces of his breeches.

He never blinked as he undid them, not as he slowly dragged them off his person. No words, and barley a blink before Jon suddenly moved up onto the bed hovering over you so close it pushed you down onto your back once more. Grasping at your jaw, Jon kissed you with an urgency. All but shoving his tongue into your mouth, your hands flew up grasping at his shoulders desperately.

His curls acting as a curtain, hiding your kiss from any of the no one watching. Kneeling more to the bed, Jon wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you more up to press your front to his. The urge in his own mind to forego his plan, and yank you up onto his lap right there and sink deep inside of you, but he had to contain himself. He had a plan.

Your legs shifted on either side of him, one thigh resting up by his hip as the other somewhat wrapped around his calm. Jons tongue deep as he brushed against yours, pulling back only to mock you with the temptation of giving you air then not ever allowing it. He controlled it all. Your nails dug into his skin as you felt his cock hard brush between your legs. Not paying any mind to it, Jon held a skill in ignoring his burning need as long as he was entangled with you in one way or another.

Slowly, did he move. Grabbing a hand from his shoulder, Jon pressed it into the bed, intertwining your fingers before slowly doing the same to the other. Pushed down into the fur, his own lips more red and swollen from how roughly he treated you, and gasps from your own looking no doubt more abused. Without you even noticing, occupying your mind blind with his kiss rough and deep, gentle brushes of his tongue against yours before refusing you more, you hadn’t at all noticed.

Until suddenly did Jons hands and fingers intertwined with yours, did you feel he was moving until he suddenly pulled them high. Crossing one wrist against the other as one large hand kept a firm grip of it. Pulling back to look down at you, your chest heaving almost as if mocking him with how little he’d been able to touch them to his greed and pleasure. His voice was a rough rasp as he sought your eyes, black staring back at you enough to nearly stop your lungs.

“Tell me no at anytime, do you understand?” Taken back by how intense he suddenly felt over top of you, Jon much more sternly called your name. “Tell me you understand, that you say no at any moment, and I stop right away.” But you didn’t say that, with something nervous and meek on your mind did you only ask Jon what he was about to do, but his head tilted slightly with a narrowing disapproval, he needed you to just say it.

“I understand.”

Barley muttering a good, Jon pressed his lips to yours once more before pulling back, mumbling into them, “Don’t move.” You read the unspoken second command, don’t watch so blatantly what he was about to do. Eyes forcing themselves to the stone ceiling, your hands itched to reach down and grasp at something to ground the nerves and want between your legs. Only as Jon returned, you felt him put something onto the bed without looking up to see.

Coming back to you, now sitting more at your side did Jon run a hand down the side of your face, touch gentle as he looked down at you. With a hesitation, his brows furrowed in what you could see was a self doubt. “Jon?”

Flying up to meet your gaze, something innocent within them once more made Jons blood run hot. Rasping as he traced along your jaw, “I need you to trust me, alright?”

Your words did not help how hard he was, “I always trust you.”

You couldn’t grasp what he was doing at first, almost thinking he was going to kiss you again until you felt something drape along your skin, and then nothing. A soft material shielding your eyes, your heart begun to race more instantly. Muttering his name, almost a brief panic at how little you could feel he was there, but the moment he seemed to tie the knot behind your head, you felt his warmth. One palm braced on the other side of your body as he leaned down to leave a chaste kiss to your lips. “We don’t have to-”

“No, don’t stop.” Almost wondering if your phrasing may have confused him, your mind muddled with trying to put together the mystery of what he was doing, the blindfold only ever being done once before in a drastically different setting. So you stammered through a breathlessness trying to rephrase. “I mean, keep going. Please..”

Without you seeing, he nodded before remembering you couldn’t see. What part of Jon that still felt a man, reminding himself to take care of you. That you will need his touch and voice significantly more then usual, not being able to see him. “Two more things, alright?” You nodded, and suddenly you felt a softer material across your wrists.

Tying your raised arms to the headboard, you stuttered a breath as your heart pounded. He said two, what more could he possible do? What more could people do with one another that you-

Only you figured it out, as you felt something at your ankle, rougher material. Not scratching or even tight. In fact the tie on your wrists was tight enough they couldn’t move, but whatever he tied around your ankle was slack a bit. Until you felt him pull, moving your leg to something wide open, a fluster coming over you almost instantly. Because then Jon did the same but the other.

Experimenting, you tried moving your leg, able enough to somewhat bend it at the knee, but nowhere near enough to close them, or even slightly. Jon did do three more things, tie every part of you that could move after taking your sight away. One again he draped over your top half, a hand running down your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts and gently caressing over your scar as he rasped so close to your ear. “Tonight, you aren’t doing anything. I’ll do all the work, you just lay right there, okay?”

You could feel his other hand run down your hair more as you bit your lip with a nod. Only to be prompted to use your words. Mustering through your nerves and racing heart only, “Okay..” Before Jon pressed his lips to yours.

The hand on your stomach rising up to cup your cheek, his soft lips were slow. Almost methodical as he kissed you again and again, the hand on your cheek sliding down to your neck, tracing along your collarbones once more. But this time, just as his tongue brushed your lip, did his hand gently grasp at your breast, pulling a high pitched gasp.

Lips pressing to yours once, then your cheek as he leaned down to murmur in your ear, “I know they’re still sensitive. I won’t do anything else.” Hardly a grope, just a gentle squeeze of what he had in his hand, he knew to be careful. The shiver down your spine made your core awaken with a startle. wetness already between your legs, the need to hide it by pressing your thighs together now taken from you so completely that it made his gentle touch to your breasts even more overwhelming.

Pressing his lips down the marked side of your neck, you could hear him muffled with something of a growl in his voice. “You shouldn’t look so beautiful like this.” Never his teeth, but your lips fell parted open as he allowed his kiss down each bruised mark to be sloppy to soothe the leftover sting. “Makes me want to never let them heal.”

Along your skin he trailed them without failure, a hand running along your side as he moved. Your breath held as his lips reached your breasts, but only a lingering kiss to the skin there before moving along down your sternum as his voice softened. “Why you ever want to be on your knees for me, when it’s nowhere near as good for you as what you give me..”

Trying to sound confident, but it only came out with a heavy need being muttered out. “I want you to feel good too..”

You couldn’t be sure how he had moved, but you felt both hands now on your legs stretched wide, pushing up ever so slightly to the little amount you could bend them. Before Jons lips kissed a path along your scar and paused the moment he reached your mound. “You can live without that, but I could never give this up. I’d go mad without being able to taste you, darling.”

A sound wanted to come from you, but biting down on your lip trying to prevent it despite Jons breath so hot between your legs. Closer his lips had gotten, before he hovered right over your clit. Being forced to wait there, not a clue that Jons eyes were overtaken with a darkness, his hands braced on your thighs as he could stare at the wetness between your legs with greed.

Tighter and tighter his grip got until without a shred of mercy did he move. Tongue running flat against your clit, sparking something burning inside of you as you wished you could jump away from it, but his lips only followed. Sucking at the bundle of nerves in a way that felt as if he was making up for what sparing your breasts he had. He could be content without one, if he could have this.

A rough hand sliding to your hip by your ass, did the other follow before Jon kept you steady from even writhing against the burning need. Tongue running over your clit in whatever way had forced that cry from your chest out into the world with a startling beg. His name your only words, but it pleaded into the air as he dragged you to an orgasm with a stinging pleasure to your clit.

Barley letting his teeth scrape against it before his tongue soothed the feeling, your mind felt foggy at how quick it came. Hands tense against the headboard your toes curled in as your head fell back as much as it could. A wave washing over, being drawn in and out of the shore again and again as your orgasm flowed. Jons tongue soaking your clit, letting it burn as he treated you almost as if a kiss.

Again and again did Jon draw you to your end from that alone, only to feel him move you what felt like shoving you higher against the bed before his mouth found it’s true desire. The wetness between you in amounts Jon could drink for days, parched with a thirst and you were the one thing he needed to keep him going. A greed in how much he ran his tongue along you, how much he refused to let a drop escape him no matter how much he had to pull you into his mouth closer.

A growl left, as his hands gripped your plush skin with a force that would leave bruises of his fingerprints. Vibrating against your soaking walls, and twisting the core within you faster, but truly it never unwound properly. He kept you slipping from one orgasm to the next, his mouth there to taste every single bit it would give. The taste so addictive against his tongue, Jon could feel even with his eyes closed, them rolling into the back of his head.

Your back trying to arch as he guided you to another end, no idea who had caused you to have so much of a wetness, you from his mouth or just his mouth alone against you without ever drawing up for so much as air. Begging his name, your head felt light and far away, only Jons touch between you existing.

Neither of you held a clue how long he kept you there, hands trapping you against his mouth as the only sounds in the room beyond your breathless begs was his greeding, merciless tasting.

Small you spoke out, barley able to speak through each cry for him. “Jon, it’s so much..I- I-” Cutting yourself off both times, you feared the nonsensical beg that you couldn’t take it but you could not fathom a world beyond Jons touch. But your very words brought that into existence with your heart racing, hands clenching tight unable to move as he pulled from you.

The soaking between you was cold in the air, but his words breathed hot so close that Jon interrupted his own words between sentences to run his tongue along you more. “I know it’s a lot..but you need to be good for me.” You nodded, but Jon growled with what sounded akin to anger of your name. “That’s not a suggestion, darling. Just lay there, and be good.”

You nearly begged out, “I promise,” more the once before he finally sunk back to drenching your cunt with his mouth.

In Jons own mind, it was just like when you let him sit you on top of his mouth. He knew you had no idea that this was dangerous. How much Jon could stay there and refuse to let you go. Taste you until you were crying begs and pleading for him to stop, but even if you did, he still would slide inside of you before it was over. Jon had soaked you so much that he groaned into your cunt with the thought, that not even his size would hurt with how wet you were for him.

And even so, you never begged anything more. You cried, and moaned, and let out high pitched whines at the burning inside of you each time he dragged his tongue inside of you. Sweat built to a sheen over your skin and dampened your hair before he stopped.

Sucking roughly at your clit once more before moving from your cunt. Not sending where he was, Jon all but leaped up to grab at your jaw. His kiss rough and bruising as he bit once more at your lips, that time, he was the one certain he might have drawn blood. But he ignored it, beyond the whine you gave him that had his cock throb. His tongue deep inside your mouth, making you taste what you gifted him.

Never would you understand his desire, but he tried every single time to make you understand what you had caused him to be endlessly, helplessly addicted too.

But then he muttered into your lips, his hands on your thighs suddenly sunk two thick fingers deep inside of you at the same instance. “That’s my girl.” Your heart felt it was bursting out of your chest, how he spoke to you and yet how little you considered that he had tied you and blinded you to his complete control. Thrusting them deep, he pulled them close to leaving your warmth before a third joined as his rasp was as thick as his accent was rough. “You are perfect for me, it doesn’t matter what I do, you were meant to take me.”

Nodding, Jon rewarded your agreement with a deep, lingering kiss before your legs shook in place as another orgasm was dragged through you with each deep thrust of his fingers in and out of you. Only dragging them out as long as it took for them utterly soaked to cup you.

You could feel Jon moving, but not a clue how or what but you laid there not even the thought in your head to question him. Without any warning, the moment his soaking hand grasped at your hip, did he replace the feeling with his length. Sliding deep inside you, soaked not even with as tight as you were around him, did you give a single bit of resistance. His cock so thick that it always stung but he had done every bit of work to ensure it wouldn’t this time.

Jon knelt on his knees before you, lips parted as he could barley catch his breath, let his other hand run tight against your clit and with that and but a single thrust did you ruin him. Walls clenching around his cock did he nearly hold you down against the bed. “Fuck, darling.. you can’t do this to me right away..”

He could see your hands desperately trying to grasp something to no avail, and the question truly burned in his mind if he was willing to give that to you. From where he knelt, so slowly did he drag his cock along your sensitive walls, that high pitched cry from your lips so beautiful to him that he sunk back just as deep, just as slow.

When he planned this, Jon hadn’t thought he’d take this pace. He thought he’d fuck you, truly fuck you like a wolf does his mate but something about taking you this slow and gentle had his heart burst from his chest with a loving need. Truthfully, he didn’t imagine many men enjoyed this. That many men ever would tolerate going this slow, but smoothly sinking his cock in and out of your soaking cut Jon looked down to the sight.

His hands tight on your hips, but otherwise his eyes were wide. Mouth somewhat agape as he watched his length sink inside you again and again. Your mind had become such a fog of pleasure, Jon wondered if it even registered in your head how obscenely wet it sounded each time he sunk deep back inside of you.

Jon did this because he needed you to trust he could take care of you exactly as you needed, but it wasn’t until his cock was surrounded by your warm tight walls, did Jon realize that you needed him to be slow and gentle as much as he needed it too.

Carefully, without ever stopping did Jon move himself to hover over top of you. One palm braced into the furs, sinking almost deeper each time from this angle as your legs couldn’t even think to close on him. Capturing your lips in a kiss, it was as slow as his pace.

Tongue brushing against yours with a patience, not to overwhelm you the way he knew you felt being filled with him. Pulling back, the saliva between you both not even severed as he rasped, “I’ve got you, darling. I’ve always had you.” Begging his name with a weakness in your throat, Jon kissed you once more.

His hips thrusting again and again inside of you with an excruciating pace to the wolf within his chest, but Jon again pulled back to look down at you, not even seeing your eyes and past that darkness his heart a man almost tore at him. You trusted him with everything that he took all of your control away and never once did you assume he’d take advantage of that.

He couldn’t. Again and again his cock filled you, but never could Jon consider doing anything but making love to you with every way he could prove how deep that ran. How much you had always meant to him. Resting his forehead against yours, not any part of him cared at how needing it sounded as he fucked you. “You have no idea how much I love you.” Hips moving perhaps a bit faster, enough that a cry left you once more which he had to soothe with a kiss. “I need you, darling. I’ve always needed you..”

Not even allowing you to answer, he pressed his lips to yours. Your cunt clenching around him and Jon knew you were so close he could taste it. Keeping that pace, again and again his cock thrusted deep, pulling only halfway before he had to feel you completely once more. “It doesn’t matter whats coming our way, I’ll protect you. I promise.”

As your orgasm burned and blazed around you, Jon was so relieved did he too find his end right with you. As deep as he could did Jon spill inside of you. His seed thick and hot as he let his hips grind into you, his kiss not sparing you the treatment.

Shaking around as each wave after wave you came, Jon let his hand fly up. Grasping tightly at both of yours as much as you both could hold at the other. Even when Jon filled you as much as he could, he didn’t stop. Not the slow pace, not how much he refused to pull out of you in any amount before he needed his cock as deep as you could take him again.

Once more, neither of you knew how long he kept you there, feeling as if it was a never ending moment refusing to change a single thing about how he fucked you. Easing you into him stopping, Jon could tell your mind was a fog.

Suddenly did you feel as if he left you with no warning, despite how long Jon eased out of you, but your mind couldn’t grasp it. Lifting off of you, a weak beg of his name did Jon kiss you again, his hand running along your hair caressingly. “I’m right here, I just need to untie you.” Before he did so, did he allow the blindfold to free your sight once more.

Fuzzy the world felt, but his grey eyes all you needed to feel calm once more. Arms, then legs were you free as Jon turned you into his front. Laying you both on your sides, he carefully placed your legs apart enough that it wouldn’t overwhelm you with what he knew would be sensitive as soon as the rest of your mind returned.

Your hands draped along his chest, scars somehow comforting under your palms as he hid you in his chest, and his own face in your hair with presses of his lips and murmuring words to bring you down back to him.

It was possible you fell asleep, as when a knock came to the door, you felt as if you had been startled awake. Running his hand over your hair, Jon muttered into your ear. “It’s alright, they’re bringing the baby.” Nodding, Jon whispered once more when you looked up with something filling your nerves as he pulled away. “Hey, come on now.” Pulling the furs over top of you, Jon kissed your forehead before meeting your eyes. “I’ll be right back, and I’ll bring Eddard with me.”

His breeches tossed on but lose, and a soft shirt of a grey dark enough it matched his eyes did he return to you with. Senses more awake, the sound of a little noise of nonsense pulled a gentle smile on you. Keeping the fur pulled high did Jon slink down onto the bed beside you with a playful glint in his eye. “It appears our son doesn’t want my attention.”

A laugh left both of you, as he carefully let little Eddard into your arms. Much like how you awoke that morning, Jon let his arm wrap around your back under the fur, pulling you close as he rested his head somewhat atop yours. The quiet and the baby all you both needed before a weight made itself known on Jons side of the bed.

Before you could even look, did you hear him louder try and protest, “Ghost-” But coming to your feet was the presence of the large direwolf. So large that his head lay down on the furs atop one of your legs and Jons. His own eyes narrowed but playful, as both white wolves pretended they were frustrated with the other to no convincing. Jons free hand now preoccupied with Ghost, did someone else too try.

Eddards little arms tried reaching out to Ghost, whom when he lifted his head did you and Jon subtly shift forward so he could actually reach. The scene was all Jon needed. No matter what was outside those doors, the Long Night could come and rage beyond control but as he sat there, his direwolf, his son and his girl, the little pack he always wanted, he could pretend for now that this was perfect.

And maybe it was, as long as you and Jon both could ignore that ever since coming back from the far North, did it feel as if the nightmares came each and every night to haunt you for it. For going that far north in the first place, or for leaving it, that was what neither of you could figure out.

Each night Jon had been trying to let that nightmare go further and further, he knew what each dream showed him until the battle leaving him dead in a field of green. It wasn’t a vision of the future he knew, but maybe if he let the nightmares fester a little while longer he may figure that out.

That was until his eyes slipped closed that night, you tucked firmly back into his arms, did Jons dream finally show him purple eyes, hair of silver.

The nightmare, a memory that certainly did not belong to him.

[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 41

Notes: AN ANNOUNCEMENT! I wanna say that I have NOT stopped writing neither the 'Juno' fic or the Courtship series. I still plan on continuing those! They just take more time than the Uncontrolled Chaos series does. Uncontrolled Chaos was my first series I started here, and is by far my most followed one, so it is my priority. However, I don't want to become drained by it and that reflect in my writing. This will also hopefully give me more time to give my other series some love too. SO from here on, I will be updating the series every weekend. This doesn't mean I won't still potentially add a chapter here and there during the week if I get a spurt of muse. But as for an actual schedule to go by, I will be doing my best to post at least one update every weekend. Hope this is okay. <3

Summary: Shadow overhears an interesting conversation.

UC Masterpost!

Link to My AO3!

Start:

Amy had been relieved to see Shadow returning with Sonic by his side, both safe and sound. After some hugging and soft reassurances that he was okay as well as some apologies for making her worry, Sonic was able to convince her to go to bed and get some well-deserved rest. Afterwards, Sonic and Shadow went out to the garage to find Tails laying there asleep at the workbench by the radio.

Sonic smiled all soft at the sight, walking over to pick his little brother up and carry him to Shadow.

“Can you take him??”

Shadow blinked, staring at Sonic as if he hadn’t quite processed the question before looking at the fox. Then Sonic again. “I-..”

“I need to take care of something.. and he is seriously late for his visit to Snoozetown,” Sonic continues, already moving to carefully hand the kid off to Shadow whether he agrees to such a thing or not, “just tuck him in for me, huh?”

 “The fox and I-.. we’re not..,” Shadow tries to defend his case as to why he’s not comfortable with such a task, but Sonic just snorts and rolls his eyes.

“I know you and your Tails aren’t close.. but my Tails is close to my Shadow. So he won’t mind.. he may not be showing it, but he’s really missin’ Shadow, too.. it’s why he’s been overworking himself to get him back home to us.”

Shadow’s brows knit slightly at this, looking down at the fox that’s been pushed into his arms before sighing and giving a small nod, “Alright..”

“Thank you.”

Shadow turns, carrying the fox cradled in his arms to the door and through the home. He’s not actually sure which room belongs to the fox, but he does know which ones are the guest room and which one is Sonic’s. So by process of elimination, he finds it quite easily. It’s very tidy. Clean. The bed has a white comforter with bright red stripes on it. He wonders if the fox’s favorite color is also red like Sonic’s..

He also wonders why the hell he knows that.

Moving to the bed, he ever so carefully shifts a hand from under the kit’s back to reach and pull back the comforter, laying the child down then and pursing his lips as he looks him over. He’s still got his shoes on.. and his big, bushy tails are hanging off the side of the bed..

A nurturing nature he’s long forgotten begins kicking in, moving to carefully slip off the fox’s red shoes and place them neatly at the foot of the bed. Picking up one tail at a time, he ever so gently and tenderly tucks them up on the mattress and covers them with the comforter to keep them from dangling off. Tails shift in his sleep then, groaning quietly and smacking his lips together and rolling onto his side further into the middle of the bed before parting his lips to snooze quietly through them. Shadow smirks ever so slightly, carefully tucking the comforter into the kit’s sides to make him nice and cozy.. 

Then he’s moving to the window and shutting the blinds and closing the curtains. End of the world or not, the kid needs some actual sleep. So he doesn’t want any sunlight waking him early. 

Once all this is done, Shadow makes his way back to the doorway and grabs the knob to slowly shut it— pausing just before it shuts to take one last look at the child..

He’s never stopped in all this mess to think about it, really.. how this world’s Shadow’s absence has effected people other than Sonic..

With the other Shadow having moved in after being found by Sonic… he supposes the other Shadow may have taken on an older brother figure to the kit as well. Which means when this world’s Shadow went missing, this Sonic didn’t just lose a lover.. but this fox lost a brother..

Their family was broken.

Shadow’s lips curl into a thoughtful frown at this thought.. crimson eyes watching the kit’s shoulders rise and fall with his deep breaths as he sleeps. 

His mind can’t help but wander back to a time when he himself was someone’s brother..

To a time when tucking in a restless and tired child at night wasn’t uncommon. A time when being loved and missed by someone wasn’t such a distant thought nor outside the realm of possibilities. A time when he loved someone too.. took care of them. Protected them. 

Had a family.

His eyes shut and behind his closed lids, orange fur is replaced with blonde hair and a blue headband..

He closes the door.

Making his way towards the room he sleeps in, he finds Sonic still isn’t there resting..

So he instead makes his way back down the stairs to check on him, assuming he’s still in the garage once he doesn’t find him in either the living room or the kitchen.

Walking to the garage door, he opens it only to immediately pause upon hearing a quiet voice speaking from the inside..

“I just miss you so much..”

‘I know, my love.. we’re getting closer, though. It won’t be long until I have you in my arms again.’

“Fuck..,” the unmistakable sound of Sonic’s breathy little chuckle along with a wet sniffle, “You sound so damn cheesy..”

‘I can’t help it. Not having you with me has made me delusionally cheesy.’

Sonic snorts, Shadow peeking around the door to see him sitting at the workbench with the radio on.. speaking into it to who he can only assume is his Shadow..

He’s got small tears rolling down his cheeks, but he’s smiling bright and wide.. Shadow can’t help but feel a bit lighter seeing this.

He’s glad they’re working things out.

“…How’d the other Sonic take the news of us being together?”

Shadow’s ears perk up at that, leaning a bit more against the door as his curiosity gets the better of him. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping.. he should leave and go to bed. Rest.

But..

‘Not great at first,’ the other’s Shadow voice sighs through the speaker, ‘But he came around…’

“He feel embarrassed for not figuring it out until earlier??” 

‘Perhaps a little.. but I think most of it was just.. a lot of self loathing.’

“That’s.. really sad,” Sonic frowns, leaning a his cheek on his hand as his elbow props on the table, “Why the self loathing??”

‘He blames himself for a lot of the differences in our worlds.. for not looking for his version of me after the battle on ARK.’

“Well, dude should’ve looked,” Sonic huffs with a spiteful roll of his eyes.

‘It’s not that simple, darling..’

“Don’t see how it ain’t. Nothing could’ve stopped me from looking for you..”

‘An inhibitor ring might..’

There’s a long moment of silence. 

Shadow’s own eyes widen slightly as he listens, brows furrowing as his hand squeezes the knob of the door he’s holding a bit tighter..

“What.. what d’ya mean?”

‘It’s.. it’s just a lot,’ the other Shadow sighs through the radio speaker, sounding tired and distressed over the entire topic, ‘Just trust me when I say him not looking for me wasn’t because he didn’t care..’

“Alright.. I’ll trust you.”

‘What of the other Shadow, though?? Has he handled the situation well? Has he been kind to you?? This Sonic seems to think he’s pretty intense..’

Sonic chuckles, rolling his eyes fondly, “Intense is definitely one word for him.. but yeah. He’s cool. A bit icy, but so were you at first. It’s honestly been both a pain and extremely endearing having to deal with you being this way again.”

‘You miss me being a pain?’

“Well— no. But it’s just.. nostalgic, I guess?”

‘Maybe I should be an ass to you more when I get back.’

“As if you need to be any more of an ass than you already are,” Sonic teases with a giggled little grin. The other Shadow’s chuckling can be heard through the speakers.

‘..I was just worried. This Sonic is pretty convinced the guy hates him. Didn’t want him mistreating you..’

“He’s been fine,” Sonic assures softly.

Shadow frowns a bit at hearing this.. hearing his own Sonic thinks he hates him. Though he shouldn’t be surprised by this.. what has he really done to make his Sonic think otherwise??

“Again, he’s-.. grumpy.. and a bit difficult now and then, but nothing I can’t handle or haven’t handled before.”

‘Good,’ the other Shadow sighs, ‘So this Sonic is just projecting his self-loathing onto his Shadow, then?’

“Probably, yeah,” Sonic nods with a shrug as if the other Shadow can see his body language, “But there’s definitely some tension between them.. hate or not, they’re not exactly friendly.”

‘Mm. Definitely not..’

“Is it wrong of me to want to meddle???” Sonic chuckles.

‘Meddling wouldn’t be the best idea,’ the other Shadow sounds amused nonetheless, ‘Don’t be more of a troublemaker than you already have been.’

“Hey- you’re the one using chaos control with a fake emerald and switching places with alternate dimensional versions of yourself!”

‘Touché.’

“I just think they could be happy,” Sonic defends with a shrug, finger tracing invisible circles on the workbench he’s leaning against, “Don’t like seeing any version of you so alone and sad.. the brooding is nostalgic and amusing and all, but it’s also just kinda depressing.”

‘I know, love.. but we have to consider the fact that maybe that’s just how it’s meant to be in their world. Maybe they’re simply better off the way they currently are. We just-.. just may not be meant to be in every universe..’

“You really believe that?” Sonic asks quietly, brows knitting with a knowing little smile on his muzzle.. he knows better. He already knows the answer.

‘..No.’

“Me neither.”

A heavy sigh comes from the other Shadow again, Shadow himself furrowing his brows in thought over this whole conversation..

They really believe that Sonic and Shadow are suppose to be together in every universe?? That’s such a close-minded way of thinking. A dumb one. An illogical one..

And yet Shadow.. almost admires it. Admires the fact they love each other enough to truly think that their bond extends all barriers of time and space.. that it’s simply inevitable.

‘..They’ll work it out on their own.. for now, I’m more concerned with getting back to you.’

“Aw yeah?” Sonic’s voice takes up a playful little tone, “Whatcha gonna do to me when you get back..?”

Shadow’s eyes widen slightly, a blush beginning to grow on his muzzle.

A low chuckle rumbles through the radio’s speakers, ‘Such things aren’t appropriate to be spoken through this microphone, darling..’

“C’mon..,” Sonic coos, his tail swishing back and forth behind him as he leans closer to the radio, “M’all alone.. give me somethin’ to think about while you’re away..”

And that is Shadow’s cue to leave, yup.

He’s moving to shut the door silently, turning to hurry his way back up to the bedroom before he hears anymore of that.

Once in Sonic’s room, he closes the door behind him and sighs heavy as he leans his back against it. His eyes stare down at the floor, taking in everything he just heard and processing it slowly.

There were three big things that stuck out to him more than anything else.

His Sonic blames himself for not finding Shadow after the ARK Battle.

His Sonic thinks he hates him.

And the alternate Sonic and Shadow both believe that their love is inevitable.

It’s all a lot to swallow. And he himself doesn’t know which to believe and which to just brush aside..

He runs a hand back through his quills, taking a deep breath through his nose before sighing it out to push himself off the door and walk to the bed.

He knew going off of this Sonic and Shadow’s conversation and interpretations of the situation was pathetic. And foolish. If he wanted to get any real solutions and answers, he needed to talk to his Sonic himself. One on one..

But then the entire idea of such a thing seemed silly because that shouldn’t be his priority right now. He needs to get home. Not be worrying about figuring out him and that Faker’s history. He needs to be in the present, in the now.

Deal with that first..

And then.. when he was back home..

Maybe-…

Just maybe..

[sm0lprism]

Bite-Sized (18) - A BG3 G/t Fanfic

This contains g/t (giant/tiny content) so if that isn't your thing, then I suggest you stop reading. Thank you!

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 | Previous chapter| Series master list

Summary: Gale gives Ria a small lesson on harnessing the Weave while Astarion finds himself utterly blood-drunk and stricken with jealousy.

Pairing: Astarion x f!borrower!oc (Tav/oc) (slow-burn)

Warnings: Blood mention, vampire things.

Word count: 3.4k

Taglist: @whatthisfemsheplikes @alexcutecolly @rose7420 @empressxmachina @taters169 @feral-sins @smolgloves @smolkuriboh27 @junipers-teacup (if you want to be removed or added to the taglist, feel free to let me know!)

Much to Lae’zel’s dismay, the githyanki creche proved to be a complete bust and none of the tadpoles were removed. In fact, quite the opposite had happened – the gith had turned against the entire group, and they had even angered Vlaakith herself, the imperious queen of the githyanki. Through this, they learned the truth of Vlaakith’s tyranny through another gith, Kith’rak Voss, explaining that Vlaakith was a false queen and not the true heir to the githyanki throne. Lae’zel refused to believe this new information, and since Kith’rak Voss had come to their camp that one night, she had gone deathly quiet. She wouldn’t even train with Ria and said that she needed time to think this over by herself. 

Now that the creche had failed to remove the tadpoles, Halsin reminded them that they should traverse through the Underdark to reach Moonrise Towers, as it was the safer route according to the druid. They returned to what was left of the Goblin Camp and found the secret entrance to the Underdark through a series of puzzles that Gale had no trouble solving. 

The group then descended into the Underdark, a fascinating place that had giant glowing mushrooms and was completely void of any natural sunlight. After exploring through the Underdark for some time, the group eventually decided to set up camp for the night. Astarion was growing hungry again and had swiftly left to go hunt. Now that left her alone with the rest of her giant companions. 

Since the event with Gandrel, Astarion had, oddly enough, become more friendly towards her. He still had his usual biting remarks, but now he was even offering to carry her as they went about their journey and they talked frequently. Ria wasn’t sure what to make of this, combined with her complicated feelings towards him, she didn’t know what to do about it. For now, though, she needed to get hold on her magic. 

Perhaps now is a good time to ask Gale for that magic lesson.

The wizard was at his tent, flicking through a very thick tome and occasionally releasing a ‘hmm’ and ‘ahh’ sound as he turned each page. Ria softly walked towards his tent, wondering if now was a good time to ask him about teaching her how to control her magic. 

If I don’t ask now, it’ll never happen. 

“Gale?”

Gale blinked, snapping his tome shut, and his warm brown eyes immediately darted towards the ground where she was standing. A gentle smile soon lit up across his features and he crouched down. 

“Ria! What can I do for you this fine evening?” 

“I want you to give me a magic lesson.” She cleared her throat. “If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

Upon hearing the words ‘magic’ leave her lips, his face brightened even more, his smile almost reaching his ears. 

“Oh, that is simply marvellous! I would be delighted to give you a lesson. There are no records that state borrowers can tap into the Weave, but what better way to find out?”

“Oh, I can use magic,” she replied quietly. “I’ve…erm…done it before.”

Gale’s eyes turned as big as saucers and his jaw slacked slightly. 

“By Mystra! This is…well…this is remarkable!” he exclaimed, offering his open palm for her to climb onto. “I do have to ask if you will stand on my table, my knees are absolutely killing me right now.” 

A small smile crept onto her face as she eagerly climbed onto his hand, grasping onto his thumb as she made herself comfortable on his palm. Very carefully Gale stood up to his full height and brought her to a small table that sat outside his tent next to his telescope. While she still had to crane her neck upwards to look at him, this was still significantly better than talking to him from her position on the ground. 

Gale clapped his hands together with delight. The sheer joy on his face resembled that of a young child receiving a large portion of sweets for the first time. Ria could tell he was truly in his element and was ecstatic about the whole scenario.

“When did this happen?” Gale questioned, his eyes bright and shimmering in the dim light.

“Well, I’ve only been able to use it when I’ve been in dangerous situations…I used it on Minthara and G-” she paused, clearing her throat, before continuing. “Uh, just Minthara, yeah. That was the only time.”

Gale scratched his chin, deep in thought. “I see. And what sort of magic were you able to conjure?”

“So far, only lightning,” she answered. “And…I was able to teleport and fly. Although, I’m not sure how I was able to do that.”

“This is positively jubilant!” Gale rubbed his hands together excitedly, his face practically beaming. “Ria, do you understand what this means?”

She stared at him, somewhat befuddled. 

“Uh…that I can do magic?”

“Well, yes, obviously,” he said. “But you can tap into the Weave! A borrower, such as yourself, is blessed by Mystra. Mystra did mention she was fond of pixies, but she never mentioned borrowers during my time with her. This is incredible!” 

Mystra.

The name did resonate with her, and she had heard Gale exclaim the name a few times during their travels, but she didn’t know exactly who Mystra was.

“Uh,” she said awkwardly, biting her bottom lip. “Who, exactly, is Mystra?”

Judging from Gale’s facial expression, it would’ve been easy to believe that Ria had just told him that one of his family members had just died. His face was of utter shock and disbelief, and it almost looked as if his entire facial features were melting right off his skin. 

“I-I’m sorry,” she quickly said, alarmed by Gale’s dreadful expression. “I didn’t mean to offend or anything, I have heard you mention her many times, it’s just I don’t know-”

“No, no, forgive my overreaction,” Gale interjected, composing himself. “Mystra is the goddess of all magic, the Weave itself, so to hear someone who has never heard of her before is…quite a shock, to say the least. Especially when I’ve practically spent my entire life studying the Weave and…well…other aspects of Mystra.” 

Ria breathed a small sigh of relief. “Y-yeah, that’s what happens when you’ve lived underneath floorboards. My parents didn’t exactly teach me a lot about the gods. They always said that the gods didn’t care about little people like borrowers.” 

“Ah.” Gale’s expression changed from shock to sympathy almost in an instant. “That does make sense. I once again apologise for my overreaction. That was rude of me to assume.”

“No, no, it’s quite alright,” she answered, and raised one eyebrow. “What do you mean by ‘other aspects of Mystra,’ exactly? Is this related to the orb in your chest?” 

“Ah, indeed it is,” Gale answered. “I suppose I didn’t tell you all the details when I first brought up my condition with all the others. I’m what one might call a wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the Weave, but compose it, like a musician or a poet. This, undoubtedly, attracted the attention of the goddess of magic herself, Mystra. She became my teacher, and in time, my muse. And then later, even my lover.”

Both of Ria’s eyebrows shot up her forehead in surprise. “You did…that with a goddess?”

 A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips upon seeing her reaction. “Oh, absolutely. We mostly indulged purely in abstract and incorporeal interactions, as she preferred it that way. It was most invigorating.” 

“O-oh.” Ria’s eyes widened as she struggled to think of what else she could say to that, but she failed to find the right words. “How interesting.”

“Interesting doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he went on, his smile growing ever wider. “But enough about me. You wanted a magic lesson, correct? And I am more than happy to offer that to you.”

Gale extended both of his arms, one facing the sky and another towards the ground, and clapped his hands together. A glowing purple orb emitted from his hands and flew off to the other side of the camp before it vanished into thin air. 

Ria watched with amazement, her mouth slightly parted, and she wondered where to even begin replicating what Gale had just done. 

“Now you try.” His warm brown eyes flitted over her frame. “Don’t worry if you don’t get it at first, just replicate the movement and see if you feel anything.”

Ria copied Gale’s movements as best she could, but she was met with nothing. Not even one ounce of light appeared from her fingertips and she looked up at him with worry. 

“Don’t look so distraught,” he said with encouragement. “Just keep trying. What emotions did you feel when you first used magic?”

“Rage, anger, fury,” she replied. “And fear.” 

“Channel those emotions.” Gale pointed an index finger to the air as if he was some conductor. “If that is what allowed you to tap into the Weave the first time, then you need to replicate those feelings as best you can.”

“R-right.” She wasn’t exactly thrilled about relieving those memories. Memories that she would rather keep to the back of her mind and never think about again. But, if that is what was needed for her to harness her magic, then she’d have to do it.

Inhaling a deep breath, she closed her eyes and pulled her mind back to her fateful encounter with Minthara. She remembered how the drow had her in her grasp, almost suffocating the life out of her. How she had thrown her into a cage as if she was nothing. She remembered Gandrel, and how he had almost ended Astarion’s life, his bow ready and poised to take the shot that would’ve put an end to everything. 

The emotions began to flicker across her brain, reminding her of the pain and anger she had felt. Her jaw clenched as those memories played through her mind, igniting a burning rage in her belly. These feelings began to almost manifest as sparks began to crackle at her fingertips. Her anger, her rage, her fear, was almost like fuel to the fire for the wild energy that coursed through her veins.

And it needed to be released. 

“Excellent!” Gale exclaimed, positively delighted as he watched the scene unfold before him. “Now see if you can expel that energy.”

Not even a second after the words had left his lips, a bolt of electricity shot out from her hands, aimed directly at the wizard’s face.

“Ah!” 

Gale seemed to be prepared for this, and simply deflected the magic with a counterspell. The bolt of lightning seemed to almost bounce off the wizard and shoot upwards into the air, fortunately not hitting anything.

With her eyes now open, Ria quickly grew mortified over what had just happened. 

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry!” she spluttered, her eyes wide with worry and concern. “I should’ve been more careful, that was so stupid of me, I could’ve hurt you!”

Gale simply shook his head, completely unbothered by the whole thing. “It’s fine. I had a feeling this might happen and had a counterspell at the ready. Please do not stress about it.”

“B-but I could’ve-”

“Did anyone die?”

“Uh, n-no, nobody died, but-”

“Then it’s fine. A small shock of lightning wouldn’t have done much even if it had hit me, given our size differences. Perhaps it may have frazzled my beard a little, which would’ve had me a bit upset, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s nothing.”

Ria opened and closed her mouth, wanting to protest this, but she said nothing. After a moment, she took a deep sigh, and nodded. 

“Okay, I suppose you’re right.”

“And we’re not even talking about the best part. You harnessed the Weave!” He clapped his hands together in delight like an excited child. Ria thought he would start jumping with glee with how happy he was, but the wizard remained grounded. 

“I suppose I did,” she said quietly, the beginnings of a smile starting to show on her face. 

“You absolutely did,” Gale beamed. “Now, shall we carry on?”

***

Astarion was completely and utterly stuffed. 

The Underdark itself had provided him with a completely new array of different creatures to feast on. They tasted different, too, and he found the blood more filling than the other beasts he had fed on in the past. Tonight, however, had given him something so delightfully delicious he couldn’t even walk in a straight line anymore after completely draining the poor thing. He was almost certain it had been a bear; the creature had been incredibly large and had bits of brown fur that had annoyingly got caught in some of his teeth. It had put up a tremendous fight, too, but the creature didn’t have much of a chance once Astarion had dropped down onto it from an oversized mushroom. Although, the more he thought about it, the beast had seemed far too large to have been a bear. 

It had brown fuzzy fur, surely it must’ve been a bear? Hmm…I can’t even remember…

He had managed to spit the fur out of his teeth as he staggered back to camp, clutching his rather swollen stomach. He couldn’t remember anytime where he had been so well fed that had resulted in him having a pronounced belly. Cazador had ensured that he and the rest of his spawn siblings had remained practically starved during his 200 years of enslavement. He was used to not feeling full, so this was certainly different, but not bad in the slightest. Although, he had perhaps drunk a little too much, so much in fact that he struggled to walk in a straight line. But, for the first time in a long time, he felt…happy. And that was worth the drunken movements and airy thoughts he was feeling. 

Blood still smeared on his lips and chin, he entered the camp on clumsy footsteps, not even bothering to greet the rest of his companions as he came through. He was feeling particularly chatty tonight and he wanted to talk to Ria about the little adventurous meal he had just dined on. He quickly stopped in his tracks as some bright purple lights coming from near Gale’s tent caught his eye. 

The wizard is showing off his magic again…how predictable.

Huffing through his nose, he turned to carry on his way, but he froze when he saw Ria situated on a small table in front of Gale. The wizard was practically glowing in front of her, casting dazzling magic projections in front of her, and she was trying to mimic his movements. It appeared that he was giving her a magic lesson of sorts. 

His stomach twisted into knots as he continued to watch the two of them and his jaw clenched. Why would Ria want to spend time with the wizard of all people? Astarion found Gale positively boring outside of his looks and he had a habit of talking his ear off for no good reason. 

Well, perhaps it makes sense that she would seek him to help harness her magic, he thought bitterly, huffing through his nose. Gale was a wizard prodigy after all, so it made perfect sense that he would be the best person to teach her. Despite this, he still couldn’t stop a burning feeling that refused to leave his chest as he watched Ria interact with Gale. Whatever this feeling was, he despised it, and he wanted nothing to do with it. 

Forcefully pushing the festering feeling away, he attempted to clear his head. He’d just wait until her little magic lesson with Gale was over, the wizard couldn’t keep her the entire night to himself after all. They’d be finished soon enough. 

“Having troubling thoughts, Astarion?”

Being both a rogue and a vampire spawn, not many things managed to sneak up on Astarion, let alone startle him. But, in that moment, he nearly jumped out of his skin as the archdruid suddenly appeared behind him. 

“N-no, whatever made you think that!” he snapped, smoothing the ruffled fabric on his shirt. 

Halsin smiled as a chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “You can’t hide it, Astarion. It’s as obvious as a bear seeking out honey.”

Astarion angrily folded his arms across his chest, avoiding eye contact with the taller elf. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Making those clothes for her was a very thoughtful gesture,” Halsin continued, pretending to ignore Astarion’s previous statement. “It seems the two of you are close. It’s nice to see.” 

“I did not make those for her!” he quickly said, lying through his teeth. “Shadowheart made those, not me.”

“Hmm. And all those pieces of fabric you looted off the bandits we’ve fought over the past few weeks, that was because you just liked the fabric? Not because you were making some borrower-sized clothing?”

Astarion huffed through his nose, but didn’t say anything. 

“Are you sure you don’t want my advice?”

Why couldn’t that bear be him so he can shut up. 

If he wasn’t so blood drunk, Astarion would not have hesitated to deliver several acts of violence against the archdruid during that moment. But, of course, that was not going to happen. Exhaling deeply, Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose and then turned to face Halsin directly.

“Fine. Tell me your Oakfatherly advice, hmm?” Astarion frantically scanned the camp, keeping an eye out for anyone that might be eavesdropping. “But do keep it down, I do not want anyone else to hear this.” 

“Of course.” Halsin smiled softly and leaned in closer to where Astarion was standing. “For borrowers, and other smaller folk, it is incredibly important that you don’t make them feel small.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes and almost scoffed. “Well, how do you suppose I do that when she must look up to everyone? She’s tiny.”

“Precisely my point.” Halsin cleared his throat. “You have started to get better at this, but every now and again I notice that you still leer down at her, almost mockingly so. That certainly wouldn’t make her feel very good.”

“And your solution is?”

“Always kneel down when you’re talking to her,” Halsin answered. “Or offer her an open palm, if she is open to standing on your hand. It is important to always get down to their level, as we are giants in their eyes.”

“That seemed like an obvious one,” Astarion muttered under his breath.

“Perhaps don’t always flash your fangs so obviously in her direction,” Halsin continued, his face growing serious. “I notice you tend to do that, especially with her. Not a good look considering you tried to eat her when you first met.”

Astarion faltered upon hearing this. He didn’t have anything snappy to retort with, as he knew deep down that Halsin was right. 

“Anything else?” Astarion said dryly. 

“My other advice might be too…explicit for casual campfire discussions,” Halsin said slowly, a small grin crawling up the side of his face. “Perhaps that can wait until things really start to get serious between you two.”

Astarion’s jaw nearly hit the ground. For the first time in his long, undead life, he was almost speechless. Mouth opening and closing for a few seconds, some words finally found his lips. 

“Excuse me! I do not need help with that sort of thing. Not to mention there is no way that would ever happen to begin with!”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Halsin gestured towards Gale’s tent. “It looks like Ria has finished her lesson with Gale.”

Sure enough, Gale had placed Ria back onto the ground and she gave him a small wave as the wizard retreated into his tent for the evening. Seeing this, Astarion immediately stumbled away from the archdruid, still clutching his rather swollen stomach. There was no way in the Nine Hells that he wanted to hear Halsin’s explicit advice on wooing a borrower. Not like he needed any help with that anyways, he had spent the last 200 years perfecting his craft.  Not like I’ve been very successful in seducing anyone in the group, he thought sourly, pressing his lips together in a thin line. But that didn’t matter at that moment. Right now, all he wanted to do was to see Ria, and he couldn’t stop the smile lighting up his bloodstained face as he wobbled towards her.

[thetomorrowshow]

i came to take up your offer

posted to ao3 19 November 2024

this is a fic that was a dream i had :)

~

Grian’s been trying to leave for months, now. Years, even. 

When one’s home world turns to war, though, the portals all close. There are ways to get out, but hubs tend to ban the presence of refugees, so if you escape you have to be well-disguised and have quick entrance to another world.

Grian’s seventeen when the war breaks out, and the draft comes for him as soon as he’s eighteen. He escapes when he’s twenty-three, after fighting in this stupid war for five years.

There’s a small group of friends that he’s gathered—people from high school, fellow soldiers, et cetera—that are all waiting on a message from him at any time, telling them when and where. Grian’s not sure how he ended up in a leadership position, but he promises them that he’ll work on it, and until then he fights this bloody war and hates every second of it.

Then it happens.

Twenty-three years old, about to march into a battle. He’s out on the field already, scoping out the place, taking notes on where they ought to line up their cannons, when he passes over a patch of land that makes his stomach swoop.

Grian blinks.

Then he backs up, walks over it again.

It’s just a bit of grass, a space no bigger than a meter squared, nestled between the roots of a massive, gnarled willow tree. He’d thought that hiding under the shadow of the tree might keep them hidden, give them a moment of surprise against the opposing army, but now he quickly leaves it, noting down that it is not an advisable place for anyone to be.

There’s a portal under the grass, he’s sure of it. One that no one had caught, hidden as it was.

He sends out the message that night. They’re all there, camped on the other side of the hill from the battlefield, but he doesn’t dare to whisper of their plans aloud. Plans to desert could just as easily get them executed as the battle tomorrow.

Found it , he writes. Meet me after the battle if you survive .

None of them respond. He doesn’t expect them to.

-

This battle is no different from any of the others. Grian considers himself lucky that he’s on the winning side, because it leaves him with less of a likelihood that he won’t make it. He sits in a trench for days, tnt exploding all around him, bullets whizzing past his ears, and occasionally pops his head up and fires at the lines opposite.

By the afternoon of the fifth day, they’ve won this one. The other army retreats, and the soldiers all around Grian breathe silent sighs of relief as they haul themselves out of the mud and trudge on back to camp.

Grian hangs back, volunteering to start digging graves. Nobody else wants to, of course, when they have the chance to go back to camp and wash off and sleep, so they let Grian stay and lead the gravedigging, a handful of others helping him.

Once the rest of the army has disappeared over the hill, Grian turns to Martyn.

“By the willow tree,” he says shortly, and Martyn nods once.

It isn’t too deeply buried. They dig for maybe half an hour before BigB’s shovel vanishes entirely, and from there, they dig carefully, handfuls at a time, to completely unearth the small square of swirling, purple portal.

Grian’s never cared too much for purple, but right now, in this final moment, it’s the most beautiful color in the world.

They stand in silence, gathered around it, all eyes drawn to it. Finally, Grian pulls his gaze away, quickly counts everyone there.

“We’re missing someone,” he murmurs. There’s only nine of them, including himself. Shouldn’t there be ten? “Who are we missing?”

“Timmy,” Martyn supplies. Grian bites his lip, glances behind himself at the bloodied and torn ground.

“Did he. . . ?”

“No,” Netty’s quick to assure. “No, I saw him. I think he’s on the hill.”

On the hill? Why hadn’t he come down to help them?

Grian huffs, adjusts his pack over his shoulders. “Right. I’ll go find him. Pretend to dig graves.”

He isn’t the oldest among them, but somehow, he’s become the leader. They trust him—maybe it’s because he was able to get in contact with an enemy soldier and convince him to join their group, or maybe it’s because he’s willing to admin a world once they get out to create a safe place for them, or maybe it’s because he’s an ordained minister and he married Martyn and Netty for free. Maybe none of that.

Maybe he’s just the only one who dared.

So Grian, the leader, heads back out from under the shade of the old willow tree.

He doesn’t want to go looking for Jimmy. He knew they were supposed to gather after the battle, and he should have seen them getting ready. If certain members of his group weren’t such bleeding hearts, he would have just left him behind.

Having to take the time to look for him could put their entire escape at risk.

He finds him, and not nearly quickly enough. He searches for what must be almost an hour, trekking across uneven, exploded ground and limp bodies, before he eventually spots a figure sitting on the side of the hill. He’d had to go all the way to the other side of the battlefield to see him, angled to look out toward the setting sun as he was.

Grian huffs when he sees him, starts hiking up the hill. Of course, he had to be on a different side of the hill instead of the one that faced that battlefield.

Why didn’t he come down? He knew what was happening, why didn’t he help them?

Jimmy’s face is smudged with dirt and soot and a bit of crusted blood, his helmet in the grass beside him, his hair limp and greasy. His uniform is barely recognizable under all the grime, even worse than some of the others of their group. He must have been near an explosion.

He’s just sitting there, knees pulled up to his chest, gazing out at the reddening sky. He doesn’t even look at Grian, not more than a glance to the side.

“Come on,” Grian says, folding his arms. He’s out of breath from the walk up, exhausted down to his bones. He hasn’t slept in almost two days straight, far longer than any soldier is supposed to go (but about the amount of time that all of them spend, anyhow). “Let’s go. We’ve already dug it up, we’re just waiting on you.”

Jimmy doesn’t respond.

“Let’s go,” Grian complains. “Get up, we’re going. Unless—”

“I can’t hear you,” Jimmy says bluntly.

Grian rolls his eyes, then sits down in front of Jimmy, the grass crunching under him. Jimmy’s eyes focus on him, weary and irritated and bloodshot.

After a staring contest that Grian quite decidedly wins, Jimmy groans, digs in his pocket. His dirt-stained fingers pull out a hearing aid, gingerly fit it into his right ear.

“We’re leaving,” Grian says, once Jimmy stops fiddling with it. “We’ve got the portal, we’re all about to go in. You coming?”

Jimmy sighs. “What’s the point?”

“What’s the point? The point is that we get out of here. We’ll never have to fight again, come on.”

“Wherever we go, it’ll turn to war eventually. That’s just how it is.”

“Not on my server,” Grian says firmly. “I’m gonna admin a world. It’ll be peaceful, I swear.”

It’s clear that Jimmy doesn’t believe him. He shifts, just a bit, so that he can see the sunset over Grian’s shoulder.

There’s something odd in his expression, under the layers of battle. Something dark. Something . . . disturbed.

Well, he tried.

When Grian rejoins the group around the portal, Martyn raises an eyebrow.

“He didn’t want to,” Grian says by way of explanation. Martyn sighs.

“I’ll go talk to him,” he says, heading off in that direction. “Don’t wait up, all right?”

They don’t.

Grian goes first. He went to a hub once, when he was thirteen. The one he lands in isn’t so different from that one, but Grian doesn’t stick around in its portal room for long. He heads to the first public restroom he can spot (just off the main room, the sign visible from far off), where he takes off his shirt and balls it up, shoves it into the trash can. He sticks his dog tags into his pocket, then scrubs the grime off his face until he’s moderately presentable.

His trousers are plain enough that they won’t immediately call him out as a soldier on the run, and his white tee is dirt stained but passable. He has all the money he’s ever earned in his backpack, which he transfers to the front pocket of his trousers.

Tom slips into the restroom, stripping his shirt off. Grian pats him on the shoulder and walks out, then confidently strides to the nearest information desk.

“I’d like to buy a world,” he says, his eyes following Netty and Salem as they fall into the hub together. The woman at the desk surveys him for a moment, then slides a paper to him.

“Fill out the form.”

-

They call it Evo, and it’s everything Grian’s ever wanted.

Evo. It’s an old, abandoned world (absurdly old, honestly), the cheapest available. Grian had spent every coin he had to purchase it, much to his chagrin. Even so, this rusty old dump is safe, and has respawns, and they can all live here in peace.

He loves it.

He gets to properly build for the first time in his life. He has his own place, where he can feel the clay under his feet and feel the salty breeze against his cheeks and it’s perfect.

Grian doesn’t spend much time around spawn, usually out in the ocean, working on his base, but he stops by to fix up a rail on his little train track and notices that Jimmy’s there, sitting atop the Property Police station.

He’s staring at the sunset, legs drawn up to his chest.

Grian doesn’t call up to him. He doesn’t do anything.

He just watches him for a moment, then heads back home.

[justplaggin]

me: why does this guy remind me of a c- no i must be seeing things

filmography: tiger (2020), cat demon lord (2023), werecat (2024)

tumblr:

further evidence:

the guy himself irl:

general consensus: pspspspspspsps

me: oh