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after-witch · 5 months ago

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The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You get your period and Mahito wants to run a few tests.

Word count: 3465

notes: yandere, consensual relationship, reader is on their period, mentions of other people's torture and death, humiliation relating to period, Mahito being Mahito is his own warning

It’s not often that Mahito bothers with your bathroom. Only, in the past, when you’ve been in it--naked and wet and usually mid-shower, as he apparently finds it entertaining to see what noises you make each time he surprises you.

(Once, after comparing him to the killer in Psycho, he’d demanded to then watch the film. ‘But I didn’t stab you and you didn’t bleed chocolate syrup,’ he’d said, simply, after the scene in question.)

Today, though, he’s decided that there must be something interesting in there, because he’s spent the better part of 5 minutes rummaging--you can hear the sound of items being moved--in the closet and, judging by the sound of rustling, he’s now fiddling with the trash can.

“Hey,” he says, finally sauntering out of the bathroom. When you turn to greet him, a sarcastic remark about having fun digging through the trash on your lips, your heart stutters.

In return, Mahito simply blinks at you.

“What’s this?” He asks, dangling one of your used pads from his hand.

The smear of dried blood in the center of the white pad feels accusatory, out of its proper context in the trash can. A bit of toilet paper sticks to the end of it, remnants of the ball you created to cover up your mess.

“Oh fuck,” you say, reflexively. “Put that down! That’s--it’s--”

“It’s blood,” he says, giving the pad a sniff. “Smells funny though. Why’s it in your bathroom? Why’s it on this thing? When did you get hurt? Why were you hiding it in the trash?” The questions come simply, nearly rapid-fire. He probably says them as he thinks them.

Your cheeks burn something awful by the end of his questions, and your answer comes out half-stuttered. “It’s--I didn’t get hurt. I’m on my period.”

One of his fingers is stuck to the bottom of the pad, and he peels it off deftly, holding it closer as you wish you could snatch it from his hands and forget this ever happened.

“Oh,” is what he says, eventually, with a quiet hint of curiosity. “I guess I’m lucky then. I’ve been wanting to study human menstruation for a while now.”

The word study sticks to your chest, but you aren’t able to peel it away so easily. You don’t want him to study you; don’t want to be under his scrutiny in such an obvious way. It’s easier to pretend he knows about people, about humanity, when you’re firmly playing at something closer to a normal relationship.

As if anything about this was normal.

“Can’t you study one of your… experiments?”

Experiments. Oh, what a simple, inoffensive word for what they really are--you shake that thought away as easily as a mosquito, though it never truly leaves the room.

At this, Mahito’s eyebrows raise, and the edge of a smile tickles his lips.

“Oh,” he coos. “That’s awfully selfish to say, even for you.”

He closes the distance between the two of you now, and you don’t bother resisting when he gives your chest a poke--thankfully with the hand not currently holding your used pad--and encourages you to sit back down on the sofa.

“I want to see.” Simple and clear, like most of the things he says to you. His directness with you is something that does make him stand apart from most people. If he wanted attention, he told you so; if he wanted to be left alone, the same. There weren’t mind games with him or--or hell, if there were mind games, you were too stupid to notice them and that was just fine with you, because the alternatives of your past relationships had been far worse.

“Why?” You ask, if only to delay the inevitable.

Mahito shakes the pad on his hand, smiling a little at the way it sticks, before he peels it off and sets it on the coffee table. He sighs. “Movies never show it. They always show the woman eating ice cream or screaming at her boyfriend or cuddling with pillows, but they never show what’s actually happening down there.”

You squirm without moving.

“It’s just blood.” Your tone stays flat, uninterested. If he thinks it’s boring, he might move on. “Nothing special about that.”

Mahito’s smile reminds you of an eel.

“Then show me.”

It’s not a request that you can parry off, so you don’t bother; instead, you spread your legs, pulling up your skirt so that Mahito won’t do it himself. You might just lose the garment entirely, if it was left up to him.

Mahito claps, then crouches down in front of you, getting far too close to your pad-clad underwear for comfort. He takes a sniff and you’d like to die on the spot.

He gives the pad a poke.

“Why do you put this in there? What’s it called again?”

You close your legs a little--instinct--and he holds them open for you. It’s easier that way, you think. Easier when he takes control and you don’t have to fight your instincts.

“It’s a pad,” you force out. “I put it there to absorb the blood.”

He tilts his head. “Why?”

Your nose wrinkles at the question. “So it doesn’t get on my clothes or everything I sit on.” A ghost of a memory pushes through your brain--blood stains on school bus seats and church pews--and you force it down.

Mahito tilts his head, and you think he’s about to ask what you’re thinking about, but instead he sighs and rests his head against the edge of your thigh.

“Humans are so squeamish.” His fingers reach up and climb up your leg, dancing on your inner thighs, towards the pad. You twitch--it tickles--and he smiles. “Does everyone use pads?”

“No,” you say, as he grips the top of your underwear and begins to slide them down. You do move, now, but not to oppose him. It would be pointless. Instead you hike yourself up a little, so that your bare privates aren’t touching the couch. “Some people use tampons,” you finish, as if you’re not sitting here, hunched on your sofa, while a curse pulls down your underwear to get a look at what’s underneath.

Mahito glances up at you. He wants you to elaborate.

“A tampon is like a cotton stick, I guess? You put it up--there--and it absorbs like a pad. But from the inside.”

“Oh!” The edge of Mahito’s fingers play with the pad on your underwear. “I guess some of my experiments have been on their period, then. I wondered what those were.” He pouts, just a bit. “Maybe that’s why some of my experiments haven’t been working out right. I wasn’t taking menstruation into account.”

The thought has your stomach roiling. But you don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to think about it--what Mahito does, when he’s not here, and how what he does is just as much a part of him as the moments when he’s snuggling with you in your apartment or fucking you into your mattress.

When you look back at him, he’s grinning.

“You’re squeamish, too. About my work.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Don’t worry. It’s cute on you.”

With that, he gives up all pretense, and peels the pad away from your underwear in one swift motion.

“What are you doing?” You ask, even though you know the answer.

“Keeping it.” He sets it next to the already used pad. In contrast, the pad he’s just peeled away still has mostly brighter red blood on it, rather than the dull, brown old blood from the bathroom trash can. “I want to see how long it takes for you to bleed through your underwear. And some more things,” he adds, casually.

Oh, you think. This is too far, too weird. It’s puncturing the bubble you’ve created around you and Mahito in a way you don’t like.

“Mahito, I am not--”

In an instant, his eyes are on you. It’s a look that says, “You are,” and your lips feel like they clamp shut without hesitation. Something low climbs into your stomach and takes root there. When your shoulders slump, defeated, he pats your knee in appreciation.

“We’ll have a slumber party this week,” he tells you, voice getting more giddy as he goes on. “For three days? Four? However long you bleed.” He stands up and begins to survey your apartment, but for what you don’t yet know. “I can get a lot of experiments done in four days.”

You don’t have the heart--or the stomach--to deny him.

When you were thirteen, you once got your period in the middle of class. You didn’t know it until you leaned forward in your desk to get a closer look at what the teacher wrote on the blackboard--your needed glasses at the time, and didn’t yet know it--and one of the boys behind you let out a distinct tween boy guffaw, snickering just loud enough for everyone to hear: “Dude, that’s fucking nasty.”

And then you’d felt it--wetness clinging to the inside of your black pants. And you’d scooted back, looked between your legs, and there it was: a smear of red on the dull grey chair.

You were too embarrassed to do anything but sit back down, cheeks so hot that you began to sweat, and listened as everyone behind you began murmuring about your period. You had wanted to die for almost two weeks, and for the rest of your school career, you wore a sweater around your waist just in case you started without warning.

That incident, as life-defining as it had been, was not as embarrassing as what you’re going through right now.

“Mahito,” you mumble, voice thick from your tightened throat. “Is this really necessary?”

Mahito, seated at a folding table he’s hauled into the living room, glances up at you. You, naked as the day you were born and perched awkwardly on top of a porcelain bowl that Mahito had shoved underneath you.

“Which part? The bowl or you being naked?”

“Both,” you blurt helplessly.

Mahito smiles. It’s such a pretty, awful little smile. “The bowl is,” he admits. His eyes leer over your body, awkward as it must look right now. “I just like to look at you.”

God help you, you feel flattered; the warm flush in your skin tingles with the new emotion. Mahito’s praises never failed to make you feel like that, even in the midst of something like this.

Mahito abandons the table and squats in front of the sofa, peering in between your spread thighs at the bowl underneath. You squirm, and he smacks the inside of your thigh sharply. You stop moving.

“I thought it would come out faster.” His tone is soft, low. Detached to everything but mild curiosity. Like a child studying an insect in a chair. “But it’s more… oozing than anything.”

“Don’t call it oozing,” you say.

Before he can answer, a timer resting on the folding table dings delightfully. Mahito doesn’t waste time and yanks the bowl out from underneath you, leaving you to land flat on the sofa with your bare ass.

“’Hito!” You whine. “It’ll stain!” Thoughts of having to get the smeary blood out of your couch override the desire to keep your whining to a minimum, lest Mahito get annoyed with you. But, you think, it doesn’t matter much now. He’s not even paying attention.

Instead, he whisks the bowl over to the table and places it on the scale to weigh.

He sighs out something like disappointment. “It’s not that much blood at all, really. I don’t know why women complain about it so much in movies.”

He wasn’t paying attention to your whining earlier, but he does hear your incredulous intake of breath at his words. He glances back at you, confusion written on his face.

“What? It really isn’t. Now, when someone loses a limb, that’s real blood loss. And it spurts out, instead of oozing.” He nods, affirming his thoughts to himself. “That would be something to complain about.”

“It’s not just the blood,” you say, half absent. Your mind drifts to when and where and how Mahito might see someone lose an arm. Did he cut it off? Or another curse? Did the blood droplets spray over his face? Did the person die right away or--

While you were lost in thought, Mahito left his post at the table and returned to crouch in front of you, now sitting flat on the sofa despite the inevitable stains.

“Go on,” he says simply, all the while pushing your thighs apart with his hands. There’s a bit of blood smeared on the inside of your thighs and he leans forward to give it a lick. The awful feeling nesting in your stomach bristles.

“Don’t.”

Mahito blinks up at you. “I want to,” is all he says, before he does it again.

The look he gives you--Will you try to stop me?--is met with you dropping your chin, just in time to see him smile. He gives another lick. “Tell me what else makes you complain when you’re on your period.”

You think about the sneering boys behind you at school, the way one of them tapped you on your shoulder and said, voice full of glorified condescension, “Aren’t you even wearing a pad? That’s nasty.”

Instead, you rest your hands on your naked stomach and murmur out the answers Mahito wants to hear.

“Cramps.” You swallow, forcing yourself to taste the ghost of your milkshake from lunch this afternoon and not the bile that wants to come up. “From the um, uterus contracting. It can hurt really bad.”

One of the girls in the class discretely handed you a pad, but your embarrassment had been so awful that you pretended not to see her, even when she waved it in front of you. “What a bitch,” she’d murmured to a friend afterward.

“Back pain,” you continue, voice cracking. “And you can get tired. You want to eat but can’t… or you don’t want to eat at all, sometimes. It’s just… a lot of stuff.”

Your body jolts when Mahito puts his hands on your stomach--he wouldn’t transfigure you, he’s said that, and you remember his words well. But it doesn’t stop you from imagining.

“Is that why women get angry when they menstruate?” The mild glare you give him is met with the most innocent of expressions. “What? It’s what all the movies say. Though the man usually gets hit with something after he says it.” He smiles, as if daring you to hit him. You don’t.

Instead, you keep talking. Maybe it’s a way to ground yourself. Maybe you just want to talk to fill the space where dead, disfigured women, corpses created at Mahito’s whim, exist.

“Your hormones can fluctuate.” You smile a little at the forced nostalgia. “Sometimes I get really upset over dumb things. Especially when I was younger. One time, I sobbed because my mom said she was going to get fast food for dinner and she changed her mind.”

Mahito rests his elbows on your thighs, digging into them harshly. His hair tickles your skin, and you wonder, idly, if he’ll get your blood on the silver strands.

“Do you want to cry now?” He asks, almost sweetly. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Do you want to cry? No. You might, though, if things keep going the way they are. So you dig your teeth into your lip and shake your head.

“No. This is just… embarrassing, I guess.” To be naked. To be bleeding. To have Mahito sitting there, your blood on his tongue.

Mahito quirks his head, then scoots back to pry your thighs farther apart so he can get a better view of your bleeding privates.

“I don’t see why humans get so embarrassed about their bodies. It seems silly.” He rests his chin on his elbow for a moment, hums, then hoists himself up and returns to the table where he’s got a few used pads and the bowl still lined up.

“Mahito?” You ask, while he’s tinkering with his findings. “Can I put my clothes on now. And a pad?”

“No,” he answers, voice light, without even looking behind him. “I need to put this inside you first.”

You do move to get up off the couch now, a pang of fear shooting through your stomach, but you stop when he turns around with a wrapped tampon held aloft. Where did he get it--the thought flickers, and turns into something more pressing: Why does he have it?

But you know the answer, don’t you?

“I don’t use tampons.” A useless thing to say, but you say it anyway.

He simply blinks at you, and crouches back down in front of you, parting your thighs like air.

“They’re uncomfortable,” you try, louder.

This time, he stops moving, and a little bit of hope flickers through you just long enough for him to furrow his eyebrows.

“But when I make my penis, it’s much bigger than this, and you don’t say it’s uncomfortable.”

Your mouth opens to answer, and your tongue sticks to the inside. It’s stupid to argue with him when he’s got his mind set on something. So you don’t.

When you don’t continue to complain, he nods, then unwraps the tampon and skims the back of the wrapper. At least he’s reading the damn instructions, you think, in the instant before he awkwardly shoves the tampon inside you--too rough and hard, and you whimper as it pinches in an entirely awful way.

Mahito’s lips quirk. He checks the back of the wrapper again, tsks at himself, and pulls it out. This time, the insertion is less chaotic. It’s still sore, but no longer painful. Just… uncomfortable.

“Aw.” He pats your thigh. “You did great. Let me start the timer!” He jumps up, hair swinging as he rushes to begin the timer for whatever phase of the experiment he’s on.

“Can I put some clothes on now?” Though you’re no longer hoping to avoid staining your sofa, it wouldn’t be awful to be a little less vulnerable in the moment.

Mahito taps his chin with his thumb, considering. Then he shakes his head. “I want you naked. But we can cuddle on your bed for this part, so you don’t get crabby!”

There’s no time to voice a complaint or offense; he hoists you up, some of the blood that had smeared against your bottom rubbing off on his arm as he carries you into the bedroom. He doesn’t seem to mind; he simply plops you on the bed--fuck, your comforter--and hops on to wrap himself around you.

Silence stretches around you, even as he wraps his arms tighter and presses his nose against your neck.

“Are… we done after this?” You venture to ask, quiet and tired.

Mahito talks into your neck, cold breath--is it even breath?--ghosting your skin. “Oh, no. I have lots of things I’d like to find out this week.” You can feel his smile pressing into you. “You’re being very helpful, you know.”

“I am?”

Mahito hums against you, and sniffs your hair. His answer is so light and sweet, the contrast makes you feel a bit sick.

“Earlier, I’d considered just grabbing someone to experiment on instead, but since you’re being so sweet about everything, I figured I’d just use you instead.”

The dread in your stomach puffs up, its sodden hairs standing on end.

“So you saved me from having to find at least one woman to test my questions on. Maybe two,” he adds, voice still light. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

“Nice?” You ask, voice hollow.

Mahito presses a smooch to your neck. “Don’t most people feel nice when they do a good deed?”

A good deed, to stand in for women who might have otherwise died horribly. For women who would have spent their time not thinking about humiliating childhood period experiences but their families--their partners, their children, if they had them.

A good deed to snuggle with Mahito, while miles away, someone was begging for death from underneath a mass of twisted flesh.

“I guess.” Your voice cracks, but it doesn’t bother him. You suppose a lot of things don’t bother Mahito and so often, you try not to let them bother you.

He sighs against you, and presses his hands lightly where you’d laid them earlier to indicate your cramps. His fingers dully stroke against the spot, and you wonder what it would feel like for his fingers on you not to bring mild comfort and the growing tingle of affection--but terror and pain and fear.

You wonder, too, if Mahito ever thinks the same thing.

#mahito x reader #yandere #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere mahito #yandere jjk #afterwitch writes

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world-of-aus · 3 months ago

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The Arrangement - Chapter 4

Pairing:Mobboss!bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angsty Dialogue

Authors Note: I apologize immensely for the delay but my mental health has absolutely tanked in the last three weeks. I have fought enough to feel a semblance of normal and was able to put this chapter together. I hope you all enjoy, and look forward to the groveling and ass kissing our guys gonna do. Love, and many thanks, happy reading. 🤍

Bucky thinks he finally understands vividly the phrase ‘so close, yet so far’.

The two of you have been married a little over a week and it’s as if nothing has changed, he still barely see’s you despite the two of you living in the same house. You’re asleep when he arrives, and you’re gone when he wakes, and despite his best efforts, you’ve managed to avoid him at every turn.

He knows there is no excuse you could give him, no longer any reason for you to still be actively avoiding him the way you have. And while he’d give just about anything to have you at least talk to him about what troubles you, to enjoy his presence the way you had the night of your wedding, he doesn’t want to push when your discomfort is so obvious.

So he gives you time.

The first two days he gave you all the space you could have possibly wanted making himself scarce, but as the third came and went as did the days that followed, he found his patience running quite thin, an underlying hurt brewing deep within his chest.

Your close friends had all but advised against his plan to confront you.

‘She just needs time pal, she’s working through a lot of emotions, don't get a hot head because she’s coping in the only way she’s known, let her come to you when she’s ready.’

‘Listen, I’d avoid you too if I had to marry an ugly mug like yours.’

‘She’s conflicted B, she’s had her happiness ripped from her before, she’s been placed in uncomfortable situations without having anyone check up on her well-being, she’s putting herself first for the first time in a very long time. Don’t mess this up, because she won’t be the only one you lose this time around.’

He had taken their words to heart, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He just wanted to talk to you, to feel a sense of normalcy in your shared marriage, he wanted you to be happy, genuinely happy. Bucky wanted you to want to be in this marriage not because it was asked of the two of you but because it was something you genuinely wanted. He knew it was a lot to ask of you, but he would do so anyway.

Or at least he was going to try.

You're finalizing emails to meet with the other heads sometime this week when a knock stills your fingers on the keys and draws your gaze from the screen. You call out for them to enter, you weren’t sure who you were expecting but you hadn’t been expecting him. You only barely manage to conceal your shock.

“Bucky, what are you doing here?” You question unable to help the way your eyes flicker to the time on your desktop, you were certain you had mastered the times you arrived home. Your eyes flicker back to his, “I was just about to make my way to the house I would have met you there.” You lie.

He offers you a smile that barely meets his eyes as he closes the door behind him, your heart races in your chest as he closes the distance between the two of you. You watch as he rounds your desk, he stops to lean against it, his eyes taking you in.

“Is everything okay?” you worry somethings happen, with his sudden appearance.

“I don’t know y/n, is everything okay?” he questions in return.

“Well yes,” you answer, “I was just -” He stops you mid statement, he doesn’t want another lie from you.

“Don’t,” he shakes his head, “don’t do that sweetheart, don’t hide behind another lie, we both know you’ve been actively avoiding me since our first night home after our wedding, and you’ve been doing so since we signed that contract Monday, and somehow that feels worse than when you would cancel on me when I was with your sister, at least then I wasn’t catching on to the lies you made to get out of it.” Your eyes shut on a shaky exhale, “Talk to me,” he pleads, worried you’ll continue to shut him out, “tell me what I can do to make this right. This isn’t what I want for our marriage I don’t want -”

Your eyes snap open, “and you think this is what I want, you think this is how I wanted our marriage to go?” you question looking up at him in disbelief. “There may have been a time where I envisioned vividly what our marriage would be like but – I,” you shake your head unable to speak on that night right now. “I don’t know how to do this,” you continue, “I’m not even sure how to feel because before all of this,” you gesture between you, “I was certain with all finality that you’d be nothing more than someone I called a friend, my brother in law, my sisters husband and I was finally coming to terms with that, I was finally starting to feel okay with it. But just like that night I’ve had the rug ripped out from right under me yet again and I’m scared Bucky! I’m scared that it’ll happen again, that I will get too close, get too comfortable – fall in love – and with a snap of a finger it’ll all be taken away. I can’t go through that again.”

I don’t think I’d survive a second time.

“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he knows he’s pleading again, but he wants to do right by you, he wants to right his wrongs. “You’re my wife now y/n your happiness is above anyone else’s, I made vows to you that evening, vows I intend to keep. Please tell me how to fix this.”

The tone of his voice almost breaks you, has your resolve crumbling.

“That’s just the thing B, I don’t know.” You answer truthfully. “How do I come out from behind her shadow if everywhere I look it reminds me of her, of everything she had, everything she took from me that should have been mine. I can’t even look at you without being reminded -” you shake your head looking away from his cerulean blues as you press your fingers into your eyes willing away the sting of tears.

You feel your chair being pulled to where he knows kneels before you, gentle hands prying your from your face. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, “y/n, sweetheart look at me,” he murmurs, “please.”

Your eyes slip open, to find his waiting gaze, “you are my wife. And ill be damned if you feel anything but. Please give me the chance to give you the marriage you deserve the one you are worthy of, I know you don’t want too, and maybe I shouldn’t ask, but let me try, let me try to be the man that is worthy of you.”

He can see the hesitation in your gaze as you look down at your intertwined hands, “what if she comes back? Decides she wants you back.”

He runs his thumb along your wedding band drawing both your gazes there. “I made a promise to you, I recited my vows to you,” your gazes find one another, “I am faithful to you. My wife.”

“But what if -” he chuckles shaking his head, “There are not what ifs, I’m. Yours.” He’s squeezing your hands in his, “give me a chance, give us a chance, let’s try.”

Your hearts beating like a wild drum in your chest, “Okay. Let’s try.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au

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swiftcast-selene · 6 months ago

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✨ pre-dawntrail wol questions! ✨

over on our little server i've been asking a WoL development question a day until dawntrail and it's been well-recieved so far, so after a month of doing it i figured i may as well put them on here~

use them to draft your own posts! send each other asks about them! answer them in the tags! do whatever you want with them, as long as you're having fun!

how is your wol about personal hygiene? are they on top of it? always perfumed and spotless, a little messy sometimes, or do they have to be reminded to groom?

is there a texture your wol absolutely can't stand, either food or feeling-wise? or is it not something they tend to worry about? do they go to great lengths to avoid it or do they just power through it?

what is your wol's evening routine? do they prepare for the next day? do they just wing it? do any weapon or gear upkeep? just pass out because that's tomorrow them's problem?

how does your wol's echo manifest itself? do they see visions as they happen? all at once? delayed? do they get any physical symptoms from it?

does your wol have any siblings? how do they get along with them? is it a good relationship or is it tense?

how does your wol feel about romance? are they a hopeless romantic, waiting for The One, or are they more casual? do they believe in soulmates?

how does your wol feel about their hair? is it important to them? just kind of in the way? who cuts it? do they take good care of it or are they not particularly fussed about it?

how good is your wol at taking care of their armor/clothes? do they mend them themself? pay to gave it fixed? just change it when it gets old?

what's in your wol's travel bag? any trinkets? any vital items they cant go without? do they travel light and figure stuff out on the fly, or do they bring way too much with them? (bonus points if you have images!)

how does your wol sleep? very light? very heavy? do they need a specific item to fall asleep? is it easy for them to fall asleep, or does it take them forever? where do they prefer sleeping?

where was your wol during the last calamity? how did it make them feel? did it change their life, and if yes, for better or for worse?

shadowbringers spoilers: how did they feel being so... up and personal with another calamity? did they feel responsible? scared? did they feel like they owed the first to stop it, or were they more detached from the situation?

for the canon casters: what does casting magic feel like to your wol? how does being "out of mana" feel?

for the physical fighters: how does it feel when they do those impossible moves? the twirls, the jumps? do they supplement with aether? dynamis? is it purely physical or is something else involved?

what would your wol be if they weren't the wol? what would they do as a job or career? would they be happier?

is your wol good at cooking? what's their specialty? what can they never get right no matter how hard they try? what flavour profile are they good at cooking? what do they eat on the road?

out of all the scions, which one is the one your wol gets along with the best? what about the one they get along with the least? why?

how good is your wol with money? do they save up? scrounge around? spend it with wild abandon?

what would you say is your wol's greatest flaw? what part of their personality causes them the most problems?

what is your wol's best quality? what's the thing that they do that really gets stuff done of makes people like them? hard mode: their own perception vs. a friend or partner's perception.

what does your wol do to unwind? any hobbies? reading? sewing? croquet? sitting in a dark room in complete silence?

how good are your wol's table manners, based on their own culture? how does it compare to ishgardian table manners? eorzean? doman? steppe?

what is your wol's inner monologue like? do they refer to themself as "i"? "we"? "you"? is it organized or all over the place? are they kind to themself, or do they chide themself constantly?

what's your wol's relationship with food? do they skip meals or do they eat at specific times religiously? is food important to them, or is it just a means to an end to keep their body going? does food mean something cultural or personal to them?

what is your wol's relationship with their family? are they estranged? still very close? tense?

what does your wol think about lying? is it unacceptable to ever lie, are white lies okay, are they a pathological liar? how do they feel about people who lie to them?

how does your wol feel about allag in general? the tech, the experimenting, the crystal tower? any thoughts on allagan ruins? are they impressed, scared, resentful, neutral?

what sense does your wol most rely on? hearing, touch, sight, smell, taste? maybe even aethersense or dynamis?

how does your wol feel about mind-altering substances? do they partake? do they dislike them? are they neutral? do they take them socially, or anytime, or not at all?

how does your wol feel about children? do they want them? like them from a distance? hate them? no strong feelings?

how does your wol work out? lifting? sports? walking? how often do they do it? is it for fun or to keep up their physique? do they enjoy it?

#wol questions #ffxiv wol #character development #it's mostly self-development questions but a few are lore or relationship related~

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firegirl888101 · 1 year ago

Text

Insatiable Madness (7)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

It seems you'll have to restock some food soon... But is that really your biggest concern?

Reader is Gender Neutral!

You couldn't get the words you wanted to say out of your mouth. How could you be so blind? So naive? It should have been obvious, the way their voices sounded the exact same, the way their characters acted a little too accurate for a fan...

What the fuck could they possibly want with you? You're not the leader of the country, or a famous figure, or.. or...!

"Stop squirming." Capitano ordered you, letting a brief and satisfying hum leave his lips when feeling you move less.

This is really happening. You thought it couldn't possibly get worse after seeing your family massacred in the restaurant. The clear pain and agony on the corpses faces, their screams being silenced by sharp weapons out of this world.

Perhaps if you never felt the need to play that stupid game you'd have been killed along with them, maybe that would have prevented your now never-ending grief.

Let's calm down, rethink things and gather what I already know. There's no use wishing for a different outcome when I can't change what's already been done. You thought to yourself, taking a deep breath.

These... Fatui Harbingers are after someone called The Decider. They used that... compass thing Dottore supposedly made to locate them, and as it pointed to me, they think I'm the person they're looking for. They killed everyone in the restaurant for some unknown reason and now they're trying to take me back to their world...

Arlecchino said 'The Tsaritsa has been searching for someone who can control what can't be seen for awhile now'... What could that possibly mean? As far as I'm aware, I have no special abilities or anything like that.

"You know, this is the quietest I've seen you since first finding you hiding in the toilets. It was very amusing..." Scaramouche taunted you, knocking your head.

You pretended to continue being stuck in your thoughts, and ignored him.

"Well, apart from when I beat you senseless." He corrected himself with a laugh. "How are those mortal bones you have? I should have hit you harder, that way you wouldn't be able to move..."

What a monster. I can't believe the harbingers were my favourite characters.

"Your taunting will break them if you continue." Signora rolled her eyes.

"Rosalyne is correct. Heartless puppet..." Arlecchino cursed under her breath.

"And your arrogance will lead to your demise, witch." Scaramouche snarled at Signora, turning his head to give a warning glare to both women.

"Enough." Pierro warned the two, seperating them with a push. He looked at you staring at the drama for a moment, then continued walking next to Dottore.

Capitano then placed you gently on the ground, keeping a firm grip on your shoulders to stop you from moving.

"Do not think this is a regular occurence," He sighed to himself, grumbling like an old man. "We're all a little unsettled in this world, we're usually more calm and collected in the presencse of prisoners."

Oh, no, I know very well from the game that this is a regular occurence.

"Stupid gadget..." Dottore cursed to himself, taking a screwdriver and tinkering with it.

"Dottore, you've been tinkering with that compass like a mad man since we first arrived in this world." Sandrone eyed the doctor suspiciously.

"Assuring it'll function correctly is all I'm doing."

"Deary me doctor, I'm beginning to doubt your intentions." Columbina smiled at him whilst using her body to block his path.

"You're mistaken in your intrusive comment."

"Miss Columbina is correct," Pulcinella frowned at his coworker. "It's becoming suspicious how you're delaying our departure of this world.

"Do you really think I want to stay here without my lab? Without my clones? Without my life's work?"

You could feel the tension rising as each harbinger began to question the doctor. You knew they didn't really get along in game... but it was frightening to actually view it in real life.

I'm starting to feel sorry for the fatui underlings who have to pretend they don't hear anything...

As they continued to argue, you began to notice where exactly they had taken you.

The park? It's practically deserted, nothing like how you saw it earlier in your aunt's car. The bird's which once flew for their children hid in their nests, the squirrels hiding in their little burrows for comfort.... It truly was something new.

"Hey comrade! We're talking to you." Childe tapped your forehead.

"You definitely weren't talking to me. You were talking to him." You pointed at Dottore, who's arms were crossed.

Although, now that you're paying attention, somethings noticeably wrong. The Harbingers all don't look as confident as they once did, they were all looking at you, some had hopeful expressions whilst some glared at you.

"We definitely were." Sandrone scoffed.

Next to Dottore's feet was a crushed compass... wait, did he destroy his gadget?? How the hell were they going to leave Teyvat without it?

Hold on, isn't that a good thing? That means they can't take me to Teyvat... but it also doesn't change me being held hostage...

Also what happened to the police? They left as fast as they came!

"Stop leaving us." A harbinger clicked their fingers in front of your face. "The Director asked you a question."

"..." You stared at him in confusion, due to you not hearing the question and being too scared to ask him to repeat.

He simply sighed, and realised the context of your conflicted response. "Do you happen to have a house near this area?"

what.

"Of course..." You replied quietly. You had a feeling you knew where this was going, and it wasn't going somewhere you found favourable.

"Guide us to your home, any tricks will not be tolerated."

Are you kidding me? I'm not taking them to my house!

"Do I have the right to refuse due to privacy?" You asked after pretending to think about it.

"No." All the harbingers replied at the same time.

Great.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

You unlocked the front door of your parent's house with frantic thoughts. Good thing you were gifted an extra set of keys for your 16th birthday a couple years ago...

Fortunately, you hadn't encountered anyone who recognised the harbingers. Unfortunately, however, the police still hadn't found your new location. You thought they would have thought to track your phone by now, but it seems they haven't...

Is there something stopping them? Or maybe, they're trying to think of a plan to save you?

Let's not think about that right now, right now you have unwanted guests in your house.

"I'm setting some rules." You spoke loudly, causing the whispering schoolgirls to hush.

"Who said you could set rules? Have you forgotten you're not in control once more of your situation?"

"That's where your wrong!" You smiled. "This is my house. Which means I am in control here. That's just how it works, sorry!"

"What sort of bullshi--"

"We understand." Pierro nodded. "What rules do you plan to set? As long as they are equal I will not stop you."

"First of all, my bedroom is off limits." You glared. "This is because it's a special place for me, and I don't want it to be ruined by Fatui Harbingers whose manners are that of a barbarian."

Of course, you weren't going to tell them the real reason was because of the embarrassing merchandise and a certain Childe pillow and whale plush on your bed.

"Understandable." Dottore glared at Pantalone, who simply shrugged with a playful smile.

"What? I routinely check your lab for good reasons you know."

"Secondly," You shushed the millionare. "Don't fucking break anything or take apart a piece of technology in this house. Any questions must go to me."

"Who do you take me for?" Sandrone crossed her arms.

"Weren't you the one talking about taking apart the giant machinery in the restaurant earlier?"

She stayed quiet.

"Where's the fun in that Decider? How do you suppose I understand this world if you won't let me investigate?" Dottore whined, picking up the TV remote he found next to him.

"You ask, like a normal person."

"How normal do you think I am?" He argued back pressing buttons on the remote with confusion.

"This can't possibly control a weapon, there's too many buttons..." He muttered to himself.

"That's a remote control for the TV. Well, since you'll probably want the full name: the television." You said, snatching the remote out of Dottore's hands and pressing the power button.

The TV lit up, and showed a woman introducing the news of the previous day.

"Woah! That's so cool!" Childe swooned, walking directly in front of it.

"Don't stand so close!... Oh my god, I sound like my mother." You shuddered at the end.

"What exactly does it do?" Pantalone questioned, slightly smiling whilst taking a seat on the sofa.

"One, I didn't say you could make yourself at home. Two, it displays what you want it to display. It's a type of monitor, meaning it's programmed to be connected to whatever you want it to connect it to."

"I don't follow..."

"Alright," You sighed. "This Television screen displays the programming in this little box." You guided the harbingers.

"This remote control guides the programming to show what you want to see at a point in time. For example, if I didn't want to see this woman talking, I go to the menu where I can see all the channels and choose what I want to see! Or, if you know the specific number for that channel you want to watch, you input it using these buttons."

"Like a performance on a stage!" Columbina giggled, her hands clapping with glee.

"Not exactly, but if that helps you understand I suppose the idea works."

"This is genius." Dottore hummed in delight. "But you're absolutely terrible at explaining. Let me try."

Dottore then scrolled down the list you demonstrated, he squinted his eyes at the words... almost as if he couldn't understand them. He then pressed on a random channel which almost seemed coincidental.

"Oh please don't click on that one, I'm squeamish." You sighed, covering your eyes when watching him click on it anyway.

"Dottore get that disgusting surgery off of the... the... thing!"

"The screen." You reminded Sandrone.

"That's right! The screen!"

Finally done! Updates will begin to slow down once again as school holiday's are almost over and stress begins... No need to fear, I won't stop working on this.

Little unrelated note: I HATE THE DESERT. I wanted to finish it before I move to Fontaine but it's taking me forever 😭😭

Please don't expect too many happy, nice and generally fluffy scenes.

This is Yandere, a genre which should never, under any circumstance be considered normal. It's abusive, unhealthy and leads to a lot of victims facing awful conditions which they never should or ever have to endure no matter who they are.

This is fiction that I'm writing, meaning it's all taken light-heartedly IN A FICTIONAL SENSE.

If anyone, by chance, is currently in conditions where a loved-one or yourself has suddenly become distant and/or being hurt when away from eyes please get help. Talk to them, or if it's you, talk to someone you know you can trust.

If you can't talk to anyone, find authorities who can help you. Call 999, as it is in the U.K, or your local emergency service. They will always help you, and will never deny your rights or freedom.

Thanks for reading this, I hope all who's reading knows this information already, but I thought I'd include it since who knows when it comes to where you are in the world and whether your education programs taught critical information like this.

✨Elusive✨ Taglist!:

@valeriele3 @pale-value @pix-stuff @yumi-genshin-writer @yuii-v @itz-luna @annoying-mary @etherisy @khalhaimdad @haikyuusboringassmanager @magica-ren @sweatyexpertdeputyduck @booksandteaplusart @9140 @whatamidoing89 @raesleepyhead @nasidibakar @shikanosn @purpleamethystsblog @chihawari @esthelily @stuffyfrenchflowers @conspicuous-mayonnaise @sielt @katsumikumo @greyhoundwires707 @carminerin @raidendeeznuts123 @angelofdarkness2 @conspicuous-mayonnaise @ginnxy-galaxy @clara-maddenlin

Quick Reminder Here! If you no longer want to be on the taglist that's completely fine; I take no offence whatsoever so please don't hesitate to tell me. ^^

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rise-my-angel · 3 months ago

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Heart of the Great Wolf

59 - Court of the North

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

Length: 17.3k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, past character death, distrustful and deceitful actions, possessive behavior and language, subspace tendencies, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v

Notes: A breather from the last few heavy chapters, but also a slow burning plot in the background I hope you all enjoy! Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Of all things to make you nervous, this seemed as if it was the most simple one to surpass. It was easy in writing, and Jon was confident where you felt nothing but a racing heart to accompany the ragged nerves. Though, he had offered more then once to delay this for you sake. The eve before, Jon had been undoing the braids in your hair, which he had done in the morning, murmuring warm in your ear that if you were not comfortable yet, you did not need to do this.

Leaning back almost instinctively closer to his warm, gentle touch running through each strand of your hair you had withheld the urge to shake your head. “Most already know about it, the longer I hide away the more impatient they may feel.” Jon had not responded right away, sighing deep enough which you could feel dance across your skin closer to your ear. Before he could say a word, you had attempted to control the damage of what you had worried he thought you to imply. “I only mean, everyone has questions about near everything. While we even attempt getting things together, the least I could do is give them something to focus on.”

If you could have turned around to glance at Jons expression, you’d have seen his brows furrow down towards you as his jaw clenched. Attempting to seek out the right words, you both knew Jon was trying to not overwhelm you in multiple manners. Since the other night, you and him had been on much more equal terms in understanding of where your mind was and wasn’t at any given time. Jon particularly did not wish to let you wander too far into doubt or blame, should it lead to you spiralling away too far for him to coax you back again.

Mumbling both under his breath, and also loud enough to make his words known you Jon was certainly rasping through an unidentifiable frustration. “They have enough to focus on, without me throwing you into the centre of it. You’re only just starting to get better-” Attempting to placate that you were fine, Jon did not even acknowledge that you were still speaking. Continuing to talk right over you with more of a firm authority. “I don’t want you to be fine. Everytime you try and settle for being fine, you end up way too close to going right back to getting worse.”

It wasn’t a judgment, but for that brief moment the darkness of such a fog told you just what he was attempting to say the opposite of. That you not getting better faster, was being a burden.

If Jon could tell from the degree which your shoulders stiffened even under his gentle, massaging touch, he made not a motion of it. Your words were quiet, were he not right behind you, you may have not even been heard. “I am trying, Jon. I promise.”

The sigh was monumental for a man like him. Hands dropping from your hair to smooth down your upper arms, bare to the cold room as he had stripped you down to only a shift by the time he had brought you over to the cabinet to undo the braids across your head. Nudging the side of your head with his just enough that he could rest against you, eyes trailing down as much as they could to watch you. “This isn’t about that. We have a baby, darling. I only want to share you and our son with everyone enough so they can see the life we made together. But I won’t make you, you know that.”

Nodding almost to yourself, as Jon let one arm slink around your front to pull you back into him closer, your hands reached down to rest there. Pushing up the soft material against his forearms to trace along the skin you could find your thumb winding across his wrist to find his pulse, strong and steady underneath as it had been ever since it started once more. “I only-” Cutting yourself off with a sigh, Jon nudged the side of your head again almost in the same affectionately pestering way Ghost would to prompt you to continue. “I don’t want to disappoint any one. Let alone you.”

Murmuring in your ear with a low rasp which could’ve sent shivers flying up your spine as they vibrated against you, Jons tone was far more teasing then your serious one might have elicited. “Disappointed in what?” When you had no answer, Jon pulled you closer. His grin was felt against the hair he nudged his nose against playfully. “Let me show you off for one morning.” A gentle ask of only one, and Jon replaced any touch to the side of your head with a press of his lips. “Only one. I’m too possessive for anything more then that.”

Now though, as you stood more dressed and done up then you had been in well over half a year, your reflection told nothing but calmness. Your heart however, disagreed along with the dizzy feeling coursing through your veins and infecting your bloodstream. The nerves of last night nothing compared to it now. Jon though, looked as he always did, except for the ease in which on the other side of his chambers, did he have little Eddard in his arms.

Barley able to catch he was speaking, the low rasp whispered down to him was received either with muffled babbles of the babies own, or small giggles. A world in which could exist that Jon would not have anything close to this, felt as if it should be held accountable for such a high crime. As if he was born to be a father, no matter the outlook on the matter his entire previous life. In truth you had caught yourself stuck watching him as if you had never seen such a sight.

The way father and son would reach out to one another, causing Jon to smile and thus making the baby smile right back. Soon enough you could imagine both of them would taunt you with matching smiles to convince you of anything and everything. Turning in their spot, Jon shifted little Eddard in his arms to look him over to you as well, purposely whispering something in his ear which you could not heard from where you were.

A jesting tone coming about your voice with a mocking narrowing disapproval on your face, “Keeping secrets from me already, you two are.” Jons smile only widened in an unfairly handsome manner, causing you to turn away before the ruse of unamusement was revealed in a wanting grin. “No, no. Please, continue.”

Turning back you purposely did not look in the reflection of the mirror before you as the sound of Jons approaching figure came up behind you. Toying mindlessly with the laces at the waist of your dress as if to retighten them, you felt Jons warm come up to your back. One hand clearly busy holding Eddard firm against his upper torso, the other winding around to grasp at one of your hands and replacing it to toy with the laces himself. Rasping deeply and enticingly into your ear, “We could put this off.” His head dropping down to press a kiss to the skin below your ear, mumbling into it with hot breath. “Stay up here, let me enjoy you before going down there to show you off to everyone.”

Your hands swiftly grasped at his, knowing you could feel the grin coming over his face as yours fell with a playfully disapproving one as you pulled him away from undoing the front of your dress. “You are aware you’re holding our son.”

Jons response seldom helped with the light feeling in your stomach, only that time the nerves came off much more as light and floating then anxious. “And? There’s only one way to give him a baby sister-”

Just as his head dropped to your neck you pulled more forward trying to wrench yourself from his grasp, calling his name out with a laugh. Pulling one subsequently from him. Jon grasped the side of your head to press a kiss before turning you by your hip to face him. Your hands rested on his waist as he pulled you into his free side while adjusting how he stood so the baby could see you too. Glancing to the later, your voice dropped playfully as you leaned in as if whispering to him alone. “You’re starting to see why it didn’t take so long to make you?”

The little giggle from the baby as unknowing as always, responding almost only to the playful tone and grin painted too over your eyes that could so easily illicit something from him. Jon murmured still leaning more to catch your eyes, “It isn’t my fault I want you all hours of the day.” Running gently his nose along the bridge of yours, Jon nudged you a little as it to move you to the perfect position to capture your lips in his kiss.

One of your hands rose, wrapping around the back of his neck as the other pressed into his chest to lean up to meet him better. Softly guiding yours with something asking to go deeper, guided by using your grasp around his neck to his advantage. Leaning in as if to overpower you as he ever so briefly teased his tongue to toy with yours before returning to more of a chaste, long kiss.

Except, it was not only you two there, and a certain someone continued to prove they were as protective of you as his father. The sounds of a grumpy babbling protest came from Eddard as a tiny hand came up as if to tap at what he could reach of Jons shoulder. Once to catch his attention, and the other having Jon pull suddenly from your lips to turn and look down with a playfully incredulous look of offence. Without sparing a moment he leaned down more to him, “She was mine first. You have to share her.”

If an infant of barley over a week could say no, the unhappy fidgeting sounds coming from Eddard would have been just that. Leaving your hip to cup the back of his sons head, Jon pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, muttering back that yes he does. You grabbed the hand of the baby’s which had hit at Jons attention, with a kiss of your own. Leaning in to meet his wide green eyes. “Go easy on him, he deserves a reward for having to put up with the both of us, does he not?”

Once again, he seemed to disagree as long as he was close enough whenever Jon would kiss you. Even from such an age, a protective little wolf he was already. Finally, Jon gently put him more comfortably into your arms, keeping the small bundle laying out more so he could hopefully feel more at ease seeing your face before bringing him out to the world.

Jons lips found your forehead that time before pressing his against it, a hand running through the hair behind your head soothingly. “There will be a lot of people wanting to see you and speak to us, if its too much-” Trying to gently protest saying you could handle talking to that many, Jon just smiled softly, tilting your head up to meet his eyes again better. “I’m saying, if you get tired at all, tell me. No one is going to take issue with a newborn mother needing to sit down for a little while. Don’t push yourself.”

As if it came out without a single thought, which it likely did, you knew the moment it slipped from your mouth you were in trouble later for it. “That doesn’t quite sound like what you were encouraging with me the other night.”

Jon though did not hesitate to turn you towards the door of his chambers before pulling you tightly gripped into his side. That time, his voice more akin to a growl as he muttered into your ear. “I moved you to the bed, because I wanted you to simply lay there and take it, darling. I’ll gladly do all the work when I’m that deep inside of you.” Such a mistake you had made, Jon was a man of promises. And he needed not vocalize a promise in order to ensure he would later act on it. He hadn’t wanted to push you, but finally you were slowly coming around more and more to wanting to be with him again without the anxieties of the dark fog surrounding it.

It was still there, but not so overpowering all day anymore at the least. Hopefully, it was kind enough to hold itself off from getting in the way of the mornings proceedings. And as you approached the corridors nearing the main hall, with Jon on one side of you, the approaching feeling on the other of Ghost almost acted as the final pillar of support. It had only been the three of you the night you brought little Eddard into the world, and it was when the four of you were together now did you all finally feel a little more put together, a pack a little more whole.

Jon promised he would do most of the initial talking, and for you to, as he specifically put it “To stand there and look beautiful as always.” Which luckily for you, beyond the initial scene of celebration, there was little pomp or theatrics involved like twice seen in Kings Landing. The North as always, was never quite as obnoxious about it’s royalty then those surrounding the Iron Throne.

The rest of the council proper respectively took their places amongst the Northern Lords, and beyond them the crowd of people both within the hall and outside its doors. Many from Winter Town and around to give congratulations and welcome backs to their King in the North. Keeping you with a hand at your lower back at all times as he spoke, Jon ensured you were close to him comfortably. You stood in front of the main table, and the only other ones by were on Jons side.

Bran in his new wheelchair which he had seemed rather happy with, no doubt feeling much more independent. Followed by Arya behind him, normally taking turns with Meera, currently in the crowd beside her father, to be the one to push Brans chair for most of the hard work. Arya had taken well to Bran being back, and despite her not having been near him since he had awoken without the use of his legs, she was happy to take turns with Meera to get him around. A small trio together, but for now it was only the two Starks up with you, as they watched their brother with pride.

Behind you on your side was your mother, a more difficult to read expression. Not that you blamed her. In some ways, children were a difficult topic for both of you, let alone sons. She had lost all of her boys before they were born, and she had once thought she lost her chance at having a grandson when learning of the night at the Twins. But here she watched you, finally with a son and with a feeling inside few would know how to read. But no doubt, it was nothing compared to the fight of calm and nerves shining across yours everytime you caught sight of the crowd before you, when not paying attention squarely on Jon or little Eddard in your arms.

There was only one Stark present, whom did not join up with the others of the family, but unlike Jon’s keen eyes, you had yet to notice the way she was watching you three through the morning.

Part of her felt bad for being so suspicious. Her eyes narrowed as she now stood off to the side, everything in her direct eyeline looked fine. But there still sat something in her head which refused to be quiet. It was as if everyone here had accepted the events which played out but never once gave thought to how it looked, let alone question what had truly been taking place leading to it.

It wasn’t as if in her mind, Sansa was going to accuse her older brother of holding you down and forcing you against your will. That would be a leap so grand even she knew was to a vastly unrealistic extreme. You had seemed willing from every way she watched it, but Sansa knew too well what role most women like herself and you had to play. Sometimes one may be able to pretend enough that their situation was fine, that they fell into it without anymore questions or care for the rest.

Almost too many times to count did Sansa meet women who played the dutiful wife in public, but you seemed to not quite grasp what she had been getting at the other night. As if you didn’t question what was going on or what this could be, should her darker suspicions be proven right.

Standing up by the front of the main hall, you had been standing next to Jon for some time as people all came forth to meet the newborn in your arms. When nothing else took his attention away, she could see Jon had a hand on your person as much as he could, sometimes pulling you more into his side if you drifted too much or whispering something to you alone to hear. It looked..well to Sansa, it looked like Jon was being extremely possessive. You didn’t seem to question any of it, as if to you, everything was fine.

But Sansa had yet to shake off that feeling as if something was not quite right about the situation between you and her bastard brother. The last she had ever heard of you before coming here was that you were dead. You, Robb, her mother, and yours and Robbs unborn son. The war was lost for you all, and won to the people of the capitol and it never ceased being a point of mocking pride to Joffery.

The memory of her final day in Kings Landing. The formal morning feast to celebrate Joffery and Margaery’s wedding day, Lord Tywin had gifted his grandson a Valyrian Steel sword. First using it to cut into pieces the grand book Tyrion had gifted his nephew, before waving it around to the crowd. Toying with it he had first joked that it would be like “Cutting off Ned Stark’s head,” everytime he used it. As gut churning as it had been to hear, it was followed up by him asking the crowd what to name it.

When Widow’s Wail had been chosen, Joffery had gleefully commented that it was as if he could hear your wailing and crying all the way here the night you, her brother and mother were all slaughtered. That it was a shame the baby never had a chance to be born before he too could “hear his mothers crying” before you died. It had made her angry the longer she had thought about it. None of them would have had a reason to know from the moment a blade entered your stomach, to your death, you had been drowning in your own blood to the degree you were incapable of making a sound.

She had never heard you come close to crying her entire life, but you had heard Sansa cry countless times, and been the one comforting her more often then even her mother did. That horrible day by the river, how Sansa knew she was letting Joffery treat the butchers boy terribly, and how she had yelled at Arya for it, when looking back on it, Sansa knew her sister hadn’t truly done anything wrong. But Sansa was too naive then, she didn’t really know what to do.

So when Cersei had told her to come before King Robert and tell him what she saw, Sansa had glanced to her father, taken back and confused by this display, then to you. Watching with narrowed eyes but the suspicion was directed towards neither sister. She had meekly said everything happened too fast, that she didn’t see anything. Arya had yelled at her over and over calling her a liar before hitting the back of her head and grabbing at her hair. Both sisters begun to struggle and yell at the other when their father had grabbed Arya yelling at her to stop it, you had detangled the girls grabbing at each other and pulled Sansa to the side shouting at both of them, “Enough.”

Later it was when Sansa had figured out that to spare the fate she knew was coming, Arya chased Nymeria off by force. As Cersei asked about it, you had shared a knowing look with Arya as you had quickly put it together when one of the guards had said, “We found no trace of the direwolf, your grace.”

But you had certainly known what was about to happen the moment Cersei stated, “We have another wolf.” The King had said so be it, and you had turned to him passing through the Starks with a hiss that he couldn’t mean it. He had only said, gesturing to the confused Sansa to get her a dog instead, that a direwolf was no pet.

Still Sansa could remember the horrible realization, how she tried to plead and shout, grabbing at her fathers arm and begging him not to let them do this. The way Arya didn’t hesitate to angrily look towards Cersei yelling at her that it wasn’t Ladys fault, to leave her alone. Sansa still could recall how she had turned to yell desperately to the Queen. “Please, please, it wasn’t Lady-” As soon as Cersei had started to give orders was when their father interrupted.

Feeling exactly as it happened, the moment her father had morosely told Jory “Take the girls to their rooms.” Did she break. The sobs desperate to come out instantly as Sansa realized what was about to happen, and how as if she had reverted back to a little girl had almost turned into you, and how without any hesitation did you let her fall into your embrace attempting to balance a seriousness and a comfort. Sansa years later had listened to Joffery mock in front of the people in Kings Landing that you probably had cried desperately before you died, and all she could feel was that night and how you ran a hand over her hair the more she tried not to burst into blatant tears.

Her father had told the Queen without any hesitation what Sansa had not been ready to hear for months. “The wolf is of the North. She deserves better then a butcher.” Before looking to you as you both shared a tiny nod of understanding did he leave the building. You gently waiting for Jory to take your place, before you nearly shoved passed the Lannister men around you all to follow.

She had not known it for a long time, but once Lady was gone, you had been the one to stay with her last for the proper final time. Cleaning the blood from her fur, and wrapping her up in a sheet with herbs tucked away as to not let the smell of eventual rot overtake. You had watched the four guards take Lady’s body back North until they no longer could be seen. Sansa had not been allowed to have one final time with Lady, and she didn’t know for a long time that you had taken that time in her place for her.

For a long time after that, Sansa would dream about Lady. They would be together in the warm sun, running together. When she would wake up, she would call out Lady’s name as if she would again see her direwolf’s golden eyes, but she never did. She would wake up, the dream would fade away, and Lady was dead again. Sansa suspected you understood that it never stopped hurting for her.

That evening at the table, she and Arya had been yelling at each other and when her sister had thrown part of an orange at her Sansa had let her emotions get the best of her. Shouting that she wished they had killed Arya instead of Lady, and never had Sansa forgotten the way you yelled at her. Only her name in a warning, but you had never yelled at her like that before, never given her that look before and she sat in a shocked, guilty silence over it. You had then covered up for her and Arya both when their father came in questioning the rooms tensity.

Sansa had tried returning to her food, sensing her father sitting something down beside her with a gentle, “That’s for you, love.” Opening the draw stings, you had begun pouring wine out for her father and settling into your seat finally. The doll inside was well made, the hair yellow and draped along the back of a white porcelain face. A dusty pink dress with a dark blue vest sat over top with gold trim around the edges of it matching the hair. Telling her with a hope in his voice, “The same doll maker makes all of Princess Myrcella’s toys.” As she looked at it in silence, he had asked, “Don’t you like it?”

She did. But in that moment, she hadn’t wanted to tell her father that. He was trying to reach out to her gently after what happened to Lady but she was too upset to listen. Not even looking at him she had snided out, “I haven’t played with dolls since I was eight. May I be excused?”

You had been far more stern about it then even Septa Mordane would’ve been, had she still been at the table. Barley glancing at her between the sip of wine passing your lips, “A thank you is traditionally the first appropriate response.”

Her father though, gave her a break, only telling her it was alright and to let her leave. Storming off, she had sensed your eyes following her retreating figure along with her father. Had she stuck round for a few seconds longer, she may have heard the amusement between you both as her father tilted his head in a slight exasperation. “War is easier then daughters.”

You had only laughed, jesting in reply “I’m inclined to believe my father would agree with you.”

Spending more time doing your duty by her fathers side, Sansa had almost never seen you in your time together in Kings Landing. Then you and her father were arrested. It felt like treason in and of itself, being forced to write to Robb, calling you and her father traitors. She had desperately hoped that Robb would not hate her for it. She had no choice, Cersei had told her it was essentially the only thing Sansa could do to try and help you and her father.

The night you had escaped, Sansa had recalled looking out the window with but a single candle to light. Preying that you would make it to Robb safely, and you did. Then Robb and you had declared war, then everything else followed and the deaths to come.

Sansa hadn’t even known she was to have a nephew until she was told of her families slaughter. You and Robb had died together, and your unborn son, from what all accounts said, was horrifically butchered and cut from your womb. The whispers had spoken that Roose Bolton had carved you open so deeply, that had the baby been fully grown inside of you, it would have spilled out amongst all of the blood and insides which came from you too. That was the last image she had when she’d try and think about what your final days looked like.

So, to stand there in the hall that morning, Sansa struggled to see the sight in front of her as anything but a trick. As if you were just being used for your position. She didn’t know anything close to if that was true, but perhaps it was easier to go down that train of thought for now then it was to accept the actual truth. Thus, she let it fester.

Looking around the room, she wondered who would she even be able to speak to who could give answers. Many of the Lords here all accepted the situation, and she did not know them well. So she turned her attention to those she already knew. Arya and Bran were not here for your time before marrying him, and she didn’t know most of the advisors by your and Jons side. But she did know Theon.

He had slunk off to the side of the room, likely to escape the crowed never ending in front of you and Jon. As she silently came to his side, she matched close to his posture allowing the quiet to brew between as he sensed she was there no doubt. You had been confused by her more direct questions the other night, so she this time, started as subtle as she could.

“When did they get married?”

Theon glanced to her in question, before turning back to where her gaze also kept on them as he thought back. Though, his expression was far more forgiving then her blank yet stern one. “If I’m not mistaken, they are actually drawing close to a full year to the day sooner or later.”

Quiet she was, as even more quiet as she kept her voice to herself and Theon alone with your name coming from her lips. “She reunited with Jon, and it took what? A half a year after that point for them to marry?” Theon affirmed only the timeline, not the unknown breakdown within her head, but no doubt was attempting to put it together the more she asked. “He was only crowned King in the North after about a month when they reunited. Then five months after that, he marries her. If being King meant that it didn’t matter a highborn marries a bastard, that timing seems odd.”

Theon had shrugged as he crossed his arms over his front. “With all due respect,” Nodding towards you, “If she hadn’t been so tormented in her head for so long, I think Jon may have married her the same bloody night they called him King.” Whatever meaning he had behind did not match Sansa’s. It only made her grow more suspicious.

Playing her cards a little too loosely, she took the risk to assess it outloud between them. “So, he rushes to marry her, and then as soon as they are he gets her pregnant right away.” To Theon, that was a very uncomplicated and general paraphrasing of the utmost disaster that was your developing relationship with Jon, but he had not found intent in dismantling her point just to over explain a relationship that wasn’t his.

Face twisting almost like a wince, he directed his gaze to the side to notice her watchful eyes yet unmoving. “Everyone kept still calling her Queen. May as well make it less complicated.” Sansa had not picked up on the fact that it was only a joke. His follow up though, only made her eyes narrow more at Jon. “As for getting her pregnant, I don’t think I should need explain that process to you by now. A man lays with the same woman enough times, eventually it will happen.”

In her mind, she struggled to rationalize it in a different way, no matter what her better logical side was insisting on. She found herself deep into something she knew deep down, was a rather harsh outlook. Jon had rushed into marrying you, and rushed into getting you pregnant and now here he stood. King in the North, with a son and heir with the once Queen in the North. Made officially so, when it was Robb you were at the side of. You had been married to Robb before made King and Queen and you both had lost the son unborn to you. Yet now, her bastard brother stood in Robbs place. His crown, lands, title and even his wife. Only Jon now gets the son which Robb never had a chance to have. Robb didn’t have an heir when he died, and yet it felt as if Jon rushed into ensuring you birthed him an heir.

With a son between you two, it would certainly make his position a lot harder now to denounce. In her worst reading, which Sansa was unable to send away from her mind, it was all rather unfavourable. Robb was a Stark, and when he was named King in the North you became his Queen already being his wife. You then both died before you had a chance to birth Robb a son and heir.

Then Jon, their bastard brother who laws Sansa grew up with stated he had no rights too, claims Robbs title as King in the North. Then to ensure his claim is strong, marries his brothers widow, the last Queen in the North and as soon as he can, puts a child in you. And here he stood with a son and heir to present to the Northern Lords. But as she looked around the room, it felt as if not a single person was seeing the deception which Sansa was.

Struggling to tell herself that this wasn’t a manipulative ploy to use you for your position, just for Jon to strengthen his own. It was as if no one was seeing this for what it could be, but her.

“I imagine it is too late to try and tell them that they did not have to bring gifts of any form?” Jon chuckled deep in his chest as he turned more into your side as a hand slipped to your opposite hip, turning you to match his position. Muttering under his breathe that it certainly seemed too late.

Thus far little Eddard had done well with the attention as long as you didn’t pass him off out of your or Jons arms. Both yourself and Jon spending much time ensuring either he or yourself were interacting with him in some fashion seemed to help. A small wave of a very tiny arm reaching out to him, and Jon without a hesitation allowed the baby to grab at what he could reach of his hand as a good enough way to hold hands together, bright wide eyes gazing down to bridge wide eyes, as his other ran along the top of his head. “If you don’t sleep well after today, I don’t know if you ever will.”

Nudging him slightly to grab his attention you jested, “At least so far he doesn’t take after you in that sense.” Both of you well aware that in addition to a lifetime of sleep troubles, Jon now then ever before struggled to get enough sleep moreso then he was willing to admit to you. You had begun wondering if he simply could function on four or five hours compared to most normal people needing perhaps double that amount. Newborns though, especially early born newborns according to Maester Wolkan would often sleep more then they were awake for some time. Though when his cries would wake you and Jon up in the very dead of night, it certainly didn’t feel that way. But neither approached it with frustration, there was little point between you to get upset about what could not be changed. Often the little one would allow you both to just begin falling back asleep before needing something else, only causing you both to laugh gently into one another at his needing timing.

“One can only hope he takes after you in other ways.”

Both your eyes and Jons tore up from the baby to the approaching figure. Jon was either doing a far worse job then you at feigning civil pleasantries, or was not even trying to hide his glare. You had perhaps a little more experience in playing that role with the man in question as you were the one to greet him in a half meaning greeting. “Lord Baelish.”

Giving an appropriate bow, he made a vauge gesture of asking further permission to approach. None of you made a scene in front of the crowd, or the few watchful eyes. Allowing him to come close as he continued on as if a conversation was being shared previous. “Even so young, it is lovely to see the little Prince with so much wolf in him, and a wonderful choice of name.”

You couldn’t quite pin why the way he said it made you uncomfortable, but perhaps it was bordering on a mocking that he thought neither you nor Jon would pick up on. The unspoken tension was saying otherwise. Jon had taken up the discussions mantle for you, with a short and unhidden tone of dislike which the man before you did not seem surprised nor perturbed by. As if he had already experienced this side of Jon well before right now. “If only his grandfather could be here to meet him.”

The tension between both was something you knew had already boiled beyond a safe point. Pulling the baby a little closer into your front as if to shift him away from the mans clear view, contrasting to the manner you attempted to placate anything furthering then this. “Forgive me, my lord. I am surprised to see you’re still here. Surely a man such as yourself has many matters to attend to in the Vale?”

He was at ease more dealing with you, Littlefinger switching his tone and gaze to something much better suited for what he always did best in playing to a specific crowd. “I have many matters all over to attend to, your grace. The Vale is simply one place as such, and I have many trusted men there to keep the peace for me while I’m gone.”

You had the sense, Jon had never seen the kind of smile on you before, which sat present on your face. One so unreaching of your eyes it was almost staggering how false it was. “You have never been this far North before, if I am not mistaken. I could only wonder as to what business then would keep you here now that you have safely delivered Sansa Stark home.”

The nonchalant mannerisms in his gestures as he spoke was merely a smokescreen of casual conversation. But the eyes watching both from Bran and Arya spoke even more suspect of him. All but interrupting their conversation with Meera to watch him close and untrusting. He did not acknowledge it, but you knew he was aware of it. “Let’s simply say, making up for past mistakes.”

Not a moment could pass to breathe before your false polite demeanour had nearly spoken back with a thick layer of condescension. “Winterfell should run out of candles before you find enough to light in forgiveness for that amount of errors, my lord.”

He did not react, not did your eyes blink watching him. The air was heavy before he found himself overstaying his welcome to the degree it could grow too noticeable. Looking between your son and you, he did not even make such a chance of including Jon in the formality. “I congratulate you both on the birth of your son. I believe I had once wished you a future of beautiful children, it is a shame it took this long to get you back from the summer heat, in order to finally achieve that.”

Littlefinger bowed before making his leave, and your watchful eyes as he retreated would tell Jon that more was being said between you both then either party had used in genuine words. You had told him that Littlefinger had once used his knowledge of your early time with Jon as a threat, but not what he said to do it. Nor that such a threat was now being used as a crude slash at your heart for what he felt that comfortable implying to your face, in front of all attending.

Jon didn’t however, need to say a word either for Ghost to catch what he was trying to tell him. And as Petyr Baelish made his leave from the main hall, as subtly behind did the sight of a large, white direwolf with watchful red eyes. Jon it seemed, had enough of letting the man walk about his home without eyes he could trust watching his every move.

And he knew you weren’t yet aware of it, but Jon couldn’t help but wonder how much the distrustful way Sansa was attempting to pretend she wasn’t watching him with, was influenced by the retreating figure Ghost now followed.

To some degree, she put more trust in Littlefinger then Jon, and he knew that acting with swift aggression towards the man would only alienate her more. Having Littlefinger in his home, around his family and his wife was one thing but Jon was not going to let him do so in any secret any longer. Afterall, Jon was more then aware that he and you had secrets between one another that a man like him would never conceive of guessing. And more then one at that.

As evening fell on the day, should those present have been aware, one watching one watching another should have been an amusing sight.

Yet none knew they were being watched, let alone followed save for the first of the chain. As night continued to fall quickly over the sky as the depths of winter grew closer, so did the beauty of the snow which was illuminated by the brightness of moonlight. On the clearest of nights, even the stars were visible shining along with it, but it was not quite so lucky this far north for such things. Not that you were put off by such a notion. You had grown up by the sea, always able to look up into the stars far into the distance as if they were falling into the water the further they travelled.

When you were very young, you had always wondered what the lands beyond your island home could have possibly looked like. Across the Narrow Sea you couldn’t imagine anything but what you knew, just a large span of islands stretching across water, each city their own plot of land separate from another and you could not imagine it could look as beautiful as the world you came to see, was.

The first time you left your home was not truly what you’d call a journey. Sailing young to Storm’s End and you had never came close to leaving the castle. Only from the front gates to the beach leading down to the waters you knew well. You had at such a young age always wished that your family had been allowed to live there. Storm’s End was large and sturdy, as if the largest of creatures could come crashing through it’s walls and every stone would stand in place without a shake. By the waters wind it was always beautiful and cool but the further inland one get it grew warm and even hot in the summers, but unlike Dragonstone, there was no volcano sat within the middle to smoke and smoulder to set the lands alight with the scent of brimstone.

The tomb of your family lay there, stretching back to it’s beginning. Not as long existing as many families in Westeros, but to your young mind it may as well been the beginning of time which they started. You had asked your father would one day you be buried with them here, or would one need to be made on Dragonstone. He had assured you, Baratheon’s belonged here with each other. You had spent many years wishing your King Uncle would have let you live here, all the things in the world you could’ve had.

But as you walked through the snow now, the light falling having given the previous footsteps a fresh dusting which you followed in near perfect succession, you knew that would have been for the worse. You had no resources on Dragonstone which were not thickly coated in a history of dragons, and few wished to travel there to live in order to provide you with education. You had no friends, not real ones at the least.

The other children anywhere near the castle were years older then you, and did not wish to stood low and play immature games with such a small girl nor did they want you tagging along and interrupting their own fun. The ones whom were your age were separated by the woods between the castle and villages on the other side of the island. You seldom had reason to be brought that far and thus when you did, you were treated far more as their Lords daughter then a girl wishing for friends.

The first time you had seen anything of the North, you felt such a strange feeling. It was large, such a large and vast stretch of land that kept going and going. By the time your ship had stopped in White Harbour already the people were so different. With each other they were loud and lively and yet also somehow felt as cold as the lands around you. You had felt as if each person was angry with you, but you did not understand what. Your father had told you that Lord Eddard Stark had two sons your age, but upon learning that they were in fact both at least two years older then you and much taller, you had felt the same worry. That you were now just in closer proximity to children whom did not want to waste their time on a childish little girl.

Sometimes they could be so cold and serious like the adults around you, that you worried that they would be annoyed with you when you weren’t as mature. You had wanted to go home, you wanted to have been able to live in Storm’s End so you never had to come here, you had one chance to make friends and for weeks you were scared they hated having to put up with you.

If such a thought wasn’t ironic enough now, you knew it was even moreso considering that you for those first weeks, thought Jon specifically hated you. He and Robb together could laugh and have fun no matter what they were doing, but whenever Jon had to interact with you, you felt like he waned to be anywhere else. Robb would be the one to come find you to get you to come with whatever he and Jon were doing, but it then would always feel like the later was trying to force you to grow up already so you weren’t as annoying to deal with. Always hovering over you like you were a burden he was forced to watch.

You had been on a ride through the wolfswood one afternoon, the lightest mood you had been in thus far just in awe of how far the North went on and on. Robb had to turn back at one point, telling his brother were he not back in half of an hour or so, to continue on without him. So you and Jon had stopped by a cliffside so you would all be somewhere recognizable for Robb to spot coming back.

A feeling of guilt had sat within you, being forced to watch you like you were an infant when clearly Jon would’ve preferred just going back with his brother. You had attempted to stay mostly on the other side of the flat clearing of land you two were on, shoving down most things you came up with to say in case he would finally snap, and tell you to shut up. You didn’t know when the thought came to you, but part of you wondered if you could see how far the woods went on for if you stood at the top of the cliffside.

There was no clear path up for some time by the sides, so you looked back. He wasn’t looking, and you didn’t want to annoy him by asking, so you quietly did it on your own. You had done this sort of thing all the time alone, so you had found it quite easy to climb up. By the time Jon had noticed you weren’t where he left you, he had but all yelled your name when he realized. But you were nearing the halfway point and it would take more effort to climb down from where you were then to keep going.

The sight almost was as fascinating as it was puzzling. The way not even this high up did the wolfswood seem to have an ending. It simply kept going and going. You didn’t realize with how long you had been looking out to the sight, that Jon had followed you up. When he had grabbed your arm saying your name, you for a moment were swept up in the sight before you that you had merely turned to him in excitement asking all of the wolfswood looked like this.

Face falling though, as he looked at you with those grey eyes speaking something you couldn’t understand, you had begun to apologize, that you’d never do it again. Jon had called your name twice as you attempted to promise you could get down on your own when he nearly shouted it. Wide eyes looking up at him in nerves though, did he smile. “Do you do this a lot on Dragonstone? Climbing?”

Confused at his sudden tone change, you nodded. Muttering as your head dropped with an honesty that you didn’t have any friends there so you explored the woods behind the castle and learned that you liked to climb. You recalled feeling taken aback when he had smiled more turning to stand more beside you to look to the same sight. “Well, I know you like to ride already. And now I know two things you like that we can do together.”

Sometimes it still felt after that like he was watching over you, but less and less did it seem as if he did it because he was obligated too but more because he was always on the lookout for things that you enjoyed or liked, so he could start doing them with you more often. You made friends with he and Robb both quickly, but Jon was your first true friend.

It was why now, everything you wanted as a girl felt backwards. Had you lived on Storm’s End, you’d never have had a single reason to be sent to Winterfell. You’d have never understood the beauty of the winters cold as you walked through thick trees coated in snow as you walked into the night of the godswood. And never would you have lived any life leading to the sight you had stumbled onto.

The Weirwood tall and even in the darkness, the red leaves stood out so vividly against all else. The white bark blending into the snow which too nearly hid the just as white figure of Ghost. The direwolf’s eyes as red as the leaves and directed towards the sight you were a fool for once attempting to live a life leading away from this. His original white fur around your shoulders, but his now were thick and dark, matching the colours of fine leather underneath and his long, black curls all once more pulled back entirely as his grey eyes shined bright in the moonlight still sitting between the clouds.

You could not hear him from there, but you could see the gentle way he held little Eddard in his arms, both facing the wonder of the Weirwood as if already sharing with his son, the beliefs which sat so strongly within him. For a good moment did you not even find it in you to disrupt the three of them. A trio of wolves all in a place encompassing so much of who and what they were that it felt a rare moment you considered yourself an outsider.

But it was striking, how in any point in your life you wanted things which would have certainly taken having any of this, far away from you. That this wasn’t a land you’d always yearn to return too, that twice you would kneel before a heart tree and offer your heart, life, and purpose to a wolf, a Stark, a man of the North and it was with him which you belonged. Both of them, but the sight before you was the one which all blood and death had led you and Jon towards and there was no longer use in pretending as if any of it was wrong. The only thing which was wrong, was the thought of ever thinking this place was not where you belonged. That you did not belong here, belong to him.

You had truly not even noticed Jon had caught sight of your appearance, watching the three of them with bright eyes shining with a ghost of a smile until he had affectionately called out to your name. “What are you doing back there?”

Noticing not the gentle smile already dancing across your lips you stepped forward more. “Admiring you three. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Coming close to the Weirwood, did the more eager sound of little Eddard cry out as two small arms shifted from under the blanket to reaching out. An even wider smile was to follow on you and Jon watching. A free arm reaching out to pull you close as you put your gloved hand in his. “Not interrupting means I can’t admire you.” Nearly close to a playful roll of your eyes was interrupted as he shifted his hand to cup your cheek. Tilting you up to more meet his gaze as he stepped as close into you as he could. Both of your hands reaching underneath the warmth of his fur cloak to rest at his waist, eyes fluttering closed the moment he continued to lean in closing the gap between your lips and his.

A gentle coax for you to simply let him guide you, you could feel the leather of his glove tracing over your cheek with his thumb. Jon barley deepening it, but not letting a single breath through your lungs pass without gifting it all to him. Each press of his lips almost tingling in your own as your hands clutched at him tighter before one drifted upwards. Tracing across the facial hair scratching under your palm at his jaw you almost pulled him closer to you, and you up to him.

Once, twice, again and again he moved his lips with yours but the second part of you or him shifted to deepen it did Jon tear from you. The kiss begging for more but instead tilting your head down to press a kiss firmly to your forehead and resting his own thus against it. The hand on your cheek now tracing along your hair loose down your back, raking through it gently enough by the back of your neck to keep you where he wanted. Your hands both now winding around the back of his neck as your lips begged you to lean up and kiss him once more. But he kept you in that position, until the needing tenseness in your shoulders relaxed for him. Only then his voice rasped so low and deep, vibrating in your ear. “I was telling our son that this was where we married.”

A gentle nod against him, not even unwilling to part from his warmth, but turning to rest your head more in the furs against his neck as you looked to where he still held little Eddard comfortably bundled in his arm. The press of Jons lips to the top of your head followed as you met the wide little green eyes looking up at you. One hand leaving Jon only to drift down to run along the side of the baby’s head as even just with the touch did his eyes begin to blink heavily. Murmuring against Jons front as the feeling of Ghost settling more by your feet join. “I’m almost shocked we didn’t already conceive you that night alone.”

His small ears not understanding a word of what that meant, but the feeling of Jon turning more to nuzzle the side of your head as he rasped for you alone, not even to reach the baby’s hearing as he cupped the back of your neck to keep you leaning up against him comfortably. “I was desperate to.” Only a hum left you to indicate you were listening, still letting a gloved hand run over little Eddard’s head as part of you considered in what felt like little time did you imagine he’d start growing out locks to match Jon perfectly, as he himself continued to murmur into your ear. “How many times did I take you that night? Six? Seven?”

A shiver ran right down your spine, warming your insides substantially as it begun to travel between your legs, the hand still around the back of your neck tightening ever so slightly. Yet not at all enough for Jon to miss, nor not catch the shaking tone of breathlessness which your voice spoke with. “I kept thinking about it..” A nudge against the side of your head when you faltered as if prompting you more commandingly to continue. “When you...when I was..”

The tone was rough but not even a smirk crossed his features, just a tightening of his hand by the back of your neck as his voice and accent flowed thick. “When I had you on top of me?” Only nodding as you almost nervously bit your tongue, Jon continued to contrast by a gentle nuzzle against your hair as if a wolf while again his hand tightened more. “Gods, I was so deep inside you that way.” That time the increasing tension in your blood had you lean more into Jons front as he found himself unable to stop rasping with a thick want in your ear. “You didn’t even know what to do.” Shaking your head no, you felt him breathe in deeply. “Just let me bounce you on my cock as much as I wanted.”

Once more you nodded, but that time Jon pulled your head from the furs hiding you in his neck to meet his eyes. Narrowed and a darkening grey with an expression any but you may have interpreted as angry, but his ramble came out almost instinctively. “You’ve always done that. Let me do anything I want to you.” Again you nodded, and that look tricking one of anger grew harsher as did he hold behind your neck. “I didn’t even ask to put a child inside of you. I did it because I wanted to, wanted to see you swell with my child. It’s like it doesn’t matter what it is I want, you’d let me do it to you no matter what it is.”

Letting the hand trace along his facial hair drop down to sit high on his upper torso, you inhaled long and deeply as you glanced down to what of Jon you could see, though the layers between you outside meaning you did not catch how hard you were making him, looking at him that way. There was an intention whenever Jon would tear his eyes down your body but knowing you were doing it in such a more innocently needing manner made him feel as if he was throbbing. Your voice but a whisper, letting your other hand drop from the growingly sleepy bundle Jon was still carefully holding to let it too join against his upper torso. “Because I trust you. With our son, me, anything.”

Jon only looked at you as the grey returned more to his eyes shining brightly before sighing out. Leaning down he captured your lips once more, a slow and chaste embrace pouring much of what he found himself unable to say into his kiss. A language you always knew how to read. Barley pulling back before he would reconnect, pressing multiple smaller kisses to your lips again ultimately failing each attempt to stop before you drifted your hands up. Cupping both sides of his face you indulged in a far more needing kiss, allowing him to go harsher as his teeth bite at your bottom lip.

Tearing away before he pushed it any further, he mumbled against your lips. “Do you know how I realized this one needs to go to sleep properly?” Tilting his head vaguely to where he held the baby you shook your head gently, only eliciting a breathy laugh to dance across your skin. “I’ve kissed you this much and he hasn’t fought me on it once.”

Your own laugh came so much easier, your forehead meeting his as he joined. Only pulling back from him enough to relieve him of his duty. “I can take him.” Gentle did he transfer him into your arms, never letting go until sure he was secure. Not in the way you as a girl feared, like he was making a fuss to ensure you did it right, but out of the sheer degree of protective within him. It was not yet often in the week of your return that little Eddard was found in one’s arms beyond you two.

Jon noticed you hadn’t responded to his comment truly, and now able to more freely, grasped the side of your cheek and jaw to tilt you to look up at him, his other running a thumb along and down the side of your neck. “How am I supposed to have you the way I want when my own son fights me for your attention?” Almost not bothering to let you answer, did Jon pass your lips by tilting your head enough to start pressing his lips down the sensitive length of your neck.

Knowing as you held the baby you were powerless to let him do so, your eyes fluttered in want to close as your voice breathed out high pitched as it was quiet. “He’s only protective. He doesn’t..” Swallowing the urge to let a whine bordering on a moan as you felt his tongue drag along your skin before once more covering up the trace with his lips, Jon stepped closer to you forcing him to lean down much more over your shorter stature to come with the same need. The hum in the back of his throat his only indication he expected you to keep speaking. “He doesn’t understand what any of this is yet..he-”

Tilting your head up to meet his now much more dark eyes as he dragged them down to your lips and back with a roughness scratching at his voice. “He’s lucky it’s cold out, or I’d have taken you right here as soon as he fell asleep.” Yanking you to meet, his kiss was so much more rough. Short lived but a deep harshness to it as he bit at your bottom lip tearing away, soothing with a single gentle kiss before running his nose along yours. “Let me get you two warm inside before I do anything else.”

Only a nod, you allowed Jon to turn you in place as he much more calmly called to Ghost. The direwolf getting up to start walking first as Jon pulled you into his side firmly, your head turning up to the side as he guided you away. “He’ll need to be fed before we sleep tonight, I assume.”

Jon left another firm kiss that time to the side of your head, his arm shifting upwards so he could grasp ahold of the white fur around your shoulders and strands of your hair which fell loose over it. His voice was steady and unphased, a striking opposite to the words slipping so easily from his deep voice. “I’ll long since have you bare by then, should make it easier.”

A shiver not from the cold winds ran back down your spine but he again looked unphased by his own words, despite the knowledge within Jons own head how painstakingly hard he had been since he first saw you appear like a vision sent to torment him by the gods. Dressed in his fur standing in the night snow of the Winterfell Godswood, you never made Jon more worked up then seeing you look so much like his, in his own home. It was possessive, but Jon was more then that he knew.

Jon knew he was little more then addicted to you, and looking down seeing you holding his son in your arms only had him pull you closer into his side. He adored you for so much more then your body, but for a man with few words, sometimes the rawness of lust he felt for you was his only way of expressing the degree of his love. Which made watching you simply interact with the baby something that made his cock howl at him to strip you bare and slip inside of you again and again.

Perhaps it was something only you two did and would ever understand, and for Jon he was perfectly fine with that. For the second pair of eyes watching someone else that night however, it was research. It was following what one told her to do despite how everyone else didn’t see a reason to care.

Your second night home, you had run into Sansa outside the crypts by the glass gardens and for everything you two spoke of that night, it was the whispering in her other ear during the daylight of Petyr which were speaking a different story. It was hard to keep up, her trust in you and her family on one and Petyr Baelish’s teachings on the other.

Was he feeding into her views to sully the already sour image he painted to her of her brother? She struggled to know that. She had watched you and seen something genuine, and even the way you both looked at each other was something Sansa had seldom seen adults share between each other. Certainly nowhere near anything she had ever come close to experiencing.

But then another part of her still sat in Petyr Baelish’s study, going over the details of what Alyane Stone’s life was. The lessons discussing how she will be perceived because she is posting as a bastard, and teaching her to not react in offence as if it would be the first she’s ever been treated as such. It was the words in her head which Petyr had so delicately taught her that festered in her mind like rot overtaking a bleeding wound.

“They will look down on you. You were raised with the love and worship of a highborn girl, but people will not gift you the same outlook anymore. People do not trust what is different from them, they will be suspicious and expect the worst of those who they do not trust. Everyone knows that bastards are wanton and treacherous by nature, having been born of lust and deceit.

It had been hammered away in Alyane Stone’s mind to the degree which even standing there once again as Sansa Stark, did she follow Petyr’s advice. Watch him, keep an eye on Jon when he is with you. Petyr was sure he said that for Sansa to properly pursue what was rightfully hers, that she will need you on her side. You were twice Queen in the North and a born and raised proper highborn. So he told her, watch what Jon does. Watch him manipulate you, watch him seduce you into staying rooted by his side. That was what Petyr had said.

Following you to the godswood, Sansa had watched the way Jon interacted with you. It was a manner she had scarcely seen a man ever interact with a woman, let alone coming from her own brother. She could hear Petyrs words. Wanton by nature, born of lust and deceit. It certainly looked as such. Exactly what Petyr had said people would say about Alyane when she was to cozy to the side of Harry Hardyng.

Petyr had said that a wife of Harry would be he envy of every highborn maiden in the Vale, even a few reaching as far as the Riverlands or the Reach. That because bastards were lustful and lecherous, the more she earned Harry the Heir’s favour the more women would hiss that she had somehow bewitched him. At the time, she felt it laughable. Alyane was the opposite of that, Harry had been rude her once because she was a bastard and she had taken off embarrassed.

It wasn’t until he returned at the ball to dance with her did she forgive him. Alyane was a bastard she was used to it, but within her, Sansa was a highborn girl. She was nothing of the sort. But then she stood there, spying on her own brother. Spying on you, by law twice you were her sister and to Sansa you had felt as such far before. But she spied, and all she could see and hear was exactly what Petyr warned her of.

Even when you were holding the baby, Jon could not keep his hands nor lips off of you. No doubt whispering things in you ear to keep you seduced to his side. Jon was her brother, but he was a bastard and Sansa struggled to see past one to get to the other. Her worst ideas which she already had tossed away for such ridiculousness were far beyond inaccurate.

Jon needn’t hold you down and force himself on you. The part of him which was a bastard had pushed away what of his blood was a Stark, and it was that side that had lured you into his bed willingly. And even now, keeping you on the edge and control of his lust, as if should you drift too far the spell would break and you’d see clearly.

But Sansa was not the only one watching. Because as she watched you and her brother, Littlefinger watched her. And this was not a plan he had yet to lose. He had brought Sansa Stark home, but in truth, he had trained Alyane Stone so well that she still watched and thought through Sansa’s eyes. He had told her to be distrustful of Jon. Littlefinger more then most men knew exactly what desire looked like, and it lived within Jon Snow’s eyes each time they even slightly drifted towards you.

So he conjured a story to Sansa that you were a traumatized and confused widow, bewitched and seduced by the lecherous and wanton ways of a jealous bastard brother. If Littlefinger could manipulate Alyane so much that such lessons could trick Sansa now, perhaps he knew, she was not the only one he may be able to sway against Jons side.

Some plans though, did not always work the way one intends. An example provided so generously by the same evening, now within the warm walls of Jons chambers sat an amusing one.

Jon had gotten as far as peeling off the cold outer layers covering you both before little Eddard had decided enough was enough. The rapid switch from blinking awake with such a gentle and precious look on his face to fidgeting and grumpy was one which drew laughs from both you and Jon rather quickly. Changing the order of things, peace was found first between you all before anything further.

You had argued playfully with Jon about pretending to allow you modesty, when as he helped with the top layer of your dress, did he end up all but yanking the fabric away to allow your breasts bare. A fluster swimming up your chest and into your eyes as you had protested. Jon slowly letting a hand trail along your side to the skin just above your stomach where the tighter layer of the dress kept your skirt in place, pulling you back into him as his other grabbed at your hip. “If I sit you two by the fire this way, you’ll warm up faster.”

The sight now had been the in between. A little pack of four you were, Ghost half curled up on top of the fur before the fire, giving a cozy space for Jon to lean back against. Pulling you with him, Jon carefully lay you back against his chest enough that kept you comfortable but was also an angle safe for the baby to feed at. Jons arm was wrapped around your front, resting just under where you held at the baby, his other grasping tenderly at your waist against him. The skirt of your dress outstretched across half the fur as if taunting with what Jon had not gotten off in time.

But none of you were impatient for this part. Your eyes trained without faltering on little Eddard, as the thought came to you once more. The strange fact that some women chose not to feed their infants from their own breast, not out of necessity, but of choice. Of inconvenience. This was such a small, simple task shared between mother and son that you struggled to come up with any reason to willingly surpass this to another for your own sake. While Eddard was still so small and new to the world, feeding him of your own milk was the most natural way to bond you both together so quickly.

Muttering into your neck behind you, Jon felt almost as warm as the heat from the fire he had sat you all in front of. “He’s still on the small side.”

Your smile was gentle, still not having looked away from the baby. Your voice if possible was quieter then Jons merely muttering for your sake only, but knowing and trusting he’d always hear you. “Maester Wolkan says that he’s growing at an appropriate speed. By the time a full moon passes, he should be the size he is supposed to be. That some infants born at full term are still sometimes on the smaller side until they start walking.”

Adjusting his position, Jon leaned the side of his head against yours as his own eyes shined bright watching you both. An affection dripped from his words but lacked the rawness of need which motivated him as he had led you in here in the first place. “Of course he’s small, he came from you.” You didn’t need to see him to know he was smirking to the point it would break out into a grin as you smiled almost in audacity. Protesting that you didn’t stay that small forever, but Jon let the hand on your waist shift you indescribably closer into his chest with a breathy chuckle deep in his chest. “You’re still smaller then me.”

Now inside, you could feel the edges of Jons curls loose as they danced across the side of your head and brushed just at the edge of your cheek as you turned somewhat to lean into his touch. “Something you’ve never let me forget.”

Jon muttered in a passing tease of his own attempting to come off as dry and even. “I’ve never let Arya forget it either.” As if all he needed was to hear yours, the moment a gentle laugh left your lips did a much warmer one husk in your ear from Jon. Almost envious of the fire before you, knowing it was graced with the sight of the smile which always accompanied Jons laughter, a sight more handsome then you knew how to handle.

When he broached it, you had not at all expected his question. “What did Littlefinger mean this morning? When he said something about you and your children, what did he mean?”

As if on a sign hanging from his chest you could read the protective level of distrust radiating from Jon even here and now. Only you rested comfortably against him, shifting subtly the hand on your sons back down to cover his. Jon only raised yours off, placing it right back against the baby as he then covered your own hand with his larger one far more successfully. Some days neither of you were even aware of the smallest of gestures shared between you and Jon, it was merely things you did from each of your souls towards one another.

Your voice however, was not low to be quiet, but as if distant in memory desperate not to fall within it like a trapping vortex in the sea waters. “I told you he had tried to threaten me into being quiet, did I not?” Jon only nodded, no doubt his jaw as tense as you felt his muscles turning, but you continued with the opposite hoping it would soothe him. “I had turned on him. Saying to just tell me what it was he wanted to say in truth instead of trying to use you to scare me. And his response was...I don’t know, I didn’t think on it for a long while. He parted ways telling me he hoped I could return to Robb soon, wishing me a long life with many children. He said that I suited summer there far less then I suited snow.”

Barley a grunt let Jon, having no problem connecting the very mocking dots Littlefinger had toyed with you about. The tenseness still felt behind you as did his rasp strain more in a force to remain on the side of quiet. “You lost everything that night, and finally when you have the chance to share even a little bit of that with me, he mocks you for what you still lost.” The frustration on his face must have been so distinct were you facing him. It was almost as if he was convincing himself. “I told you, you belong to me. We belong together, I’m not giving you up to anyone ever again.”

Your laugh almost was enough to ease even just the tightness he held your waist with. “You and I have a son together. A man and wife can’t quite get more bonded together then sharing that.” Jon only watched you and little Eddard for a while again. Whatever was stewing in his head, he let stay there until it boiled to the proper point. Simply choosing to watch the mother of his child feeding his son from your breast, as if his was which the old gods had always been fating Jon towards.

The routine was without words. Getting his fill, you would then raise up Eddard to the opposite shoulder Jon was resting by as he pulled your hair off of that over to him. Almost without failure, the moment the tiniest burp would come from the little one, would he start to drift off. His head dropping down to your neck and shoulder as his eyes begun to drift closed.

Jon always took over from there once night came, the insistent claim that you did enough all day for the baby, the least he could do was not force you to jump up at any instance for him if he could bring him to you or back to bed. Each night thus far, Jon would shush you gently to stay in bed while he went and tended to Eddard, only ever bothering you if he needed feeding, to which he’d prop you up in the exact position you two had been in minutes ago, but upright in his bed.

That time barley managing to stand, you almost on instinct lifted up the loose fabric of your dress to cover your chest with a modesty as Jon carefully put the baby into his bed, up against the wall merely a few feet beside and down from where you both would rest. Neither of you had been anywhere near ready at the idea of giving the baby a room he would be alone in.

Whispering low words to his son as he drifted off, Jon pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before turning back to you, still standing at the fur in front of his fire but now holding your dress more up to hide you away. Jon however, only dropped his head with a smirking laugh as he approached. Raising his head up along with his eyebrows to you, grasping your hips within reach with something incredibly playful draping across his grey eyes. His voice low and rasping but filled with as much tease. “I think darling, you should know by now that I’m only going to peel the rest of this off far before you could properly put it back on.”

Jons hand almost childishly tugged at the skirt of your dress, but your hands did not drop. Your eyes did along with your tone in as much of a lecturing tease as he mocked you in playfulness. “Am I allowed to stay partially dressed as I take your things off from the day, or do you demand I do so with nothing else on?”

Jon only tugged at the material harder that time, not blinking nor shifting his expression at all while his eyes once more darkened. The yank was enough that it slipped from your grasp and exposed your breasts to him in a bounce. A small gasp left you, grabbing onto the skirt in front of you which he hadn’t pulled down enough yet, something bright in your eyes matched his but was painted over far more embarrassed. “Jon..”

Leaning in, he only nudged your nose with his. “Let me see you. All of you.”

His tug that time was more experimental, a question as he did one then another before finally moving his hands both to properly undo the laces keeping it against your person. Brows narrowed in focus as he kept his eyes trained on ensuring he took it all off of you respectfully. Sitting it aside from where you stood as he had knelt down by you. Looking up, Jons eyes were bright and asking of a permission you both knew he did not need to stop for.

But regardless he did, and the slight bite at your bottom lip with a nod was good enough for thus far. Pressing a kiss to your calf, up to your inner thigh, and trailing a path from your knee up to the warmth between your legs. Surpassing your core, Jon skipped up to your stomach. His lips refusing to miss a single scrap of skin which consisted of the scar across your womb before continuing his path up. Between your breasts but considerate of your sensitivity and pressing but a small kiss to what would be your cleavage before back up your neck. Rising up to his full height as he did so, his taller and stronger stature mixing with how he still was almost completely dressed, made your smaller bare frame feel exposed and vulnerable, a shaking exhale at how his lips against your neck only grew as purposeful as they were needing and sloppy.

Hands tighter and tighter at your waist, Jons breathing picked up with the high pitched breathlessness of yours. Rasping deeply, hardly able to convince himself to part from any way his hands and lips could touch you. “Are you still alright with this?” Your nod was lightheaded, but his voice calling your name was firm. Pulling you by a grip on your chin to look up to his stern expression. “You’re not still too sore? You don’t have to be ready so soon, it’s alright.”

Your own hands reaching up to flat against his chest you nodded along with a breathless voice which was tinged in the need your heart too raced with. “I’m not sore, I’m fine, I promise. Please..”

Leaning further into his front, Jon held you tight at your hips. Grey eyes on green until he found nothing but a complete truth in them, nodding down to himself with a mumble against your lips. Hand still pulling your chin up to his him, “Let’s get this off first.” Your nod was eager and his kiss too short lived, but he allowed you to work.

Bare in front of him, you took no rush in undressing Jon. Each layer taken off as the heat from him and the fire behind almost made you feel as if you could start to sweat, but never did you consider wanting anything else. Boots off and set aside, part of you always felt as if you should be unlacing his breeches in some kind of show when you took them off in such intimate moments, but you always just felt those nerves.

It never was anything but slowly pulling them down and kneeling in front of him with a hitch in your lungs, Jon had clearly been hard for some time. His cock full and thick, the colour deep as much blood was needed to harden a size and length such as his, but Jon only grabbed your hands. Pulling you up to your feet before cupping your cheeks.

Nose nudging against his, your hands wound up around the back of his neck, grasping at his curls before he nudged you to the right angle to kiss you. Rough and urgent as he held at the back of your neck to keep you there, soft lips guiding yours, deepening each second and growing rougher with that. You could feel his cock against your front but you dared not disobey him by doing what you wanted now, only being allowed his kiss so far.

Deepening his kiss each time as if to tease you with more until he chose the fairer path for you, licking at your lips instead of demanding you. Only gliding his tongue into your mouth once you had graced him permission, with your nerves hesitantly brushing your tongue with his. Jon though could guide your kiss with him for all of eternity, he knew just how much to give you, to explore and taste as he pleased before it became too much. Shying away as he ran the hand at your neck along your hair, back to rough and urgent but not such overpowering kisses.

But your arms wound around his shoulders and back of his neck even more, letting your hand entangle in his curls grasping with your own need to ground yourself against his touch making you dizzy. Leaning more over you, your back arching into his front, Jon let his hands run down your sides.

Hands smoothing along your waist and hip only for one to detour. Nibbling at your bottom lip, Jon only teased at letting his tongue brush against yours in your mouth at the same instance one rough hand slid along your ass. Grasping at one cheek, not tightly nor meanly but enough you cried a whining need into his kiss before his other hand joined. Large, calloused hands grasping and kneading at your ass as you held his hair tightly. Jons kiss growing more and more urgent, licking and deepening against you as he pushed your hips up against his cock, hands still grasping over and over at your ass.

Letting one hand overtake the other, Jon simply pushed your front to press up against his throbbing cock, fingers toying with pressing harder into the skin. Pulling from your lips with a force, the saliva not even snapping between you as you looked up to his hooded, black eyes with wider innocent ones. “Jon..are..did you want..”

Dragging his eyes all the way down your body and back, his jaw clenched as he once more grasped roughly what he could hold, which in his large hands was much. But he shook his head as he growled out, “No. Spread your legs, I need to taste you.” But as you asked about the bed, almost drifting towards it, Jon tugged you back with a feircly disapproving glare. “Now, darling.”

With a nervousness, Jon watched as you moved your legs apart better for him, only looking to watch your throat move with a swallow when he lowly ordered you to stand wider. Nudging your chin up to meet his eyes, Jon captured your lips in a chaste kiss before kneeling down. Resting his forehead against your mound, Jon groaned. “Seven hells..it’s not fair, I can’t go this long without..”

Cutting himself off, Jon pushed your inner thighs as far as he could from there before moving his mouth onto you. Tongue brushing up along your clit, he gripped your hips from moving but your hand tugged at his hair in need, a growl vibrating again you. Sparing you little time, from one pattern to another Jon lapped at your clit in one moment almost like a kitten in teasing, to the next his tongue fat against it before sucking at the bundle of nerves with a growl. His hands on your hips were tight enough bruises no doubt were forming.

His facial hair was thick, scratching at the skin of your inner thighs as he sucked and let his teeth scrape just against your slit before letting his tongue sloppily taste over it as it a salve to soothe you, but only bringing forth more pleasure. Twisting inside your core, you burned white hot with a beg of his name and your hand almost pulling at his curls. Your eyes closed, too overwhelmed and too shy to watch him but had you opened then, as you pulled at his hair Jons eyes snapped open. Never stopping tasting you as he glared up at your pleading figure in nothing but pleasure his mouth and tongue gifted you.

Eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head, Jon grunted as he pulled you more into him, sucking harshly to the point your gasp was sharp. Hurling you to the edge, Jon sucked and licked at your clit as if not a single other thing mattered. Drawing closer and closer your hand didn’t even mean to pull at his hair but it did, and each time he grew more greedy.

Licking down to your core and back up to your clit, no longer staying in once place Jon finally allowed himself to dive deep into your cunt. The soaking taste nothing but a pure addiction to him, he refused to let you even slightly drift away. His tongue running along your walls as he drank from you with a terrifying need. A thirst which he refused to entertain a solution not found between your legs.

Closer and closer to the edge Jon drew you, his own grunting growls vibrating against you as the coil twisted at each brush of his tongue from your clit back inside of you as if feasting only for himself. Begging at his name, hotter and hotter did you burn before it burst. Only, it didn’t.

Tearing himself from your cunt, Jon rose up before you could even think to beg him to let you cum, Jon bit roughly at your lip, sliding his tongue inside to make you taste yourself against his tongue with fervour. Turning you by a grip at your hips to the bed, Jon tore from your lips again as the saliva snapped between you. Guiding you to lay flat against the fur for him, Jon pulled your legs both wide open as he kneeled in front of you on the bed.

His eyes were dark, an anger only you could see was truly need as he stared intently at your soaking cunt. Rasping deeply he dragged his eyes up to meet yours, it seemed like he hadn’t noticed the growling manner it hissed out. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me again.”

“Jon?”

Your gentle and meek tone ignored, Jon somehow yanking you wider for him as one hand pressed down against your sternum keeping you flat against the bed contrasted to your feet spread obscenely wide at his behest. “The next man who even thinks about you this way, I’ll kill him.” Something far gone was Jon, replacing with the feral teeth baring anger of a wolf before you. Unable to come down even when your hands reached up to try and run along his waist. “I should drag you out there right now, take you apart until you’re crying.” The hands on your thighs were nearing a painful tightness but you still found yourself begging for more. “Fill you until I’m spilling out of you, then cover you with whats left.”

Biting your lip, your chest heaved as you knew he was watching your walls clench around nothing, desperately soaking wet wishing he would come to you already, but the wolf was not one to ever be told what to do. “If the only thing I do for the rest of our lives is fuck you, no man will be happier then me. None of them have a clue what you’ve given me, none of them understand. You-”

Cutting himself off, Jons head dropped for only a moment before he shifted. Gripping the thick base of his cock, Jon used his other hand to grasp at your jaw, forcing you to look up at him, Jon did not finish what he was to say. Looking nowhere but your eyes with his pitch black ones as he slid roughly inside of you. He was not gentle the way he was he other night.

One hand holding you open for him, Jon begun to pound his cock with a roughness that his skin slapped against yours right away. Your head wanted to throw itself back, but couldn’t. Forced to look Jon in the eye, his hips only moved harder and faster. Sliding as deep as you could take him, and barley managing to slide halfway out before roughly pushing his cock back just as soakingly deep. Your hands barley reaching his waist to grasp at, your voice weak and nothing but a gentle, almost innocent plead. “Jon, please, kiss me?”

But he shook his head, breaking eye contact to drop down and watch himself. His cock sliding deep in and out of you, rougher and rougher he trusts got the more he watched. Letting your jaw go to hold at your thighs, forcing them back wide open and grunting as he pounded harder and harder. A screaming in your veins at the shock of pain followed by a humiliating sound of how wet you were. In and out, he found a rhythm, but he was so fast inside of you.

Your breasts almost on a lewd display each rough force, the sound deafening of his hips slapping into yours. Jons grip nearly had your lower half up on display, wide and unable to move unless at his control as he fucked you, over and over without a care for how it looked. Again his voice growled and not a man, but a wolf looked and spoke down at you. “You’re mine, darling. You always were.” Nearly dropping his head back down in a long groan, Jon lost some of his speed as he thrusted rougher and slower into you each time. Your insides burning, set alight and screaming for him as you were soaking wet around his cock. The wolf only continued on with a deep possessiveness. “From the moment I saw you across the yard, you belonged to me.”

A hand reaching up to almost caress the side of your face, your skin and hair now undeniably soaking in sweat as the coil within you twisted and burned so tightly you felt not sane within your own mind, only consumed with Jon as it truly under a curse or spell. It was innocent in contrast to the rough manner which his cock would thrust roughly inside of you, the sound of your wetness each time he slid deep as if to seduce him all on its own. But your voice was light and you tried to grasp at his waist and forearm with wide eyes, “Jon, please, gods..I love you..”

The man within Jon and the wolf were at war, his heart tearing inside his chest to lean down and kiss you, the other only grew more shamelessly possessive and Jon had not a clue where this terrifying intensity had even come from. “I know, darling. I know you do, fuck you were born to. You were born for me, my cock, all of it. I’ve always loved you, and I don’t want a single man out there thinking he’ll ever come close to the way I love you.”

Your head flew back, eyes struggling to stay open as your orgasm begged you to be let out but you refused to even consider asking Jon for it. You’d accept him never give you another if thats what he wanted, you didn’t care, you trusted however his cock wanted to use your body. Finally letting go of your legs, Jon leaned down. One hand shifting to grasp behind your head tightly in your hair.

Slap after slap, pound after pound did Jon sink so deeply, so roughly inside of you as he bit at your lips, his tongue making the same path as if to refuse parts of him to not be inside you. But he had one more thought, one which Jon had not wanted to jump into but it was the wolf sinking his cock in and out of you.

His other free hand slid between the furs and your ass, pulling away with a bite to your bottom lip Jon hissed your name. Eyes fluttering open, the moment your met his black ones did he slide one thick finger deep into your ass. Back arching up as you cried his name into the night, Jon met his cocks pace as let a finger, knuckle deep in your ass sink in and out just as greedily. Pleas of please and his name, Jons head dropped back to a kiss, forcing your head up to his with his only other hand to make sure you could not escape his kiss.

Hurling you closer and closer to your orgasm did you cry out, and as if he could match you perfectly, the moment your soaking walls clenched tightly around his cock did Jon growl your name into your lips. His kiss rough and biting and deep as your hands reached up to grasp at his back and shoulders.

Nails digging into his back, clawing down without even realizing as you so desperately needing something as his kiss refused to let you even moan out for him. The stinging sensation so striking in Jons blood he throbbed inside of you. Pounding once, twice, almost managing seven more incredibly cruel thrusts before he sunk deep as he could.

Your orgasm almost pulled Jon deeper as he came, his thick seed hot and spilling deep inside of you but his hips did not still. Almost thrusting incredibly shallow to ensure every single drop would stay inside you where his seed belonged. Pulling suddenly from your ass you cried out, but as your orgasm waved over you, you realized how lightheaded you felt.

Not yet coming down, Jon tore from your lips. His eyes suddenly wider as he looked down to you, a rasp more concerned on his voice as he prompted your name. But your hands wound into his hair reaching up to press your lips again to his, the feeling as if blackening your vision as Jons seed was so thick and hot inside of you, almost making your orgasm go on and on. Vaugely aware that Jon pulled from your kiss again, he ran his hand along your sweating hair, again murmuring your name in a gentle concern, but without much more knowing, did you feel yourself fade.

Hardly even coming down from your end, and Jons cock not even yet truly done spurting thick amounts of his seed inside of you, but you felt like he held you above the clouds. Just Jon, and a floating underneath you as you clutched at his warm self before slipping into the darkness.

It was strange, still drastically in need of coming down to the ground, but Jon had noticed you quickly slipping away before passing out before you had even stopped cumming so beautifully around his cock. Heart pounding and racing, he looked down at you while he propped himself up partially with one hand, his other running along your neck almost as if to ensure your pulse was fine.

But you were, only passed out as you both came together. No faster then that had sent the wolf within Jon away and brought the man back. Almost cradling you as he hovered over you, Jons breathing was heaving desperately. Both your bodies glistening with sweat and dampening your hair, but otherwise you seemed fine. Hands almost growing tight if he tried to pull away.

Unwilling to leave your still soaked, warm cunt, Jon turned you in his arms. Laying more on your sides, Jon pulled you close. That had never happened before, he had never seen you drift so far you passed out before either of you had even came together and finished once.

Laying there in the night, the fire crackling beside the bed as Jon stayed deep, and half hard inside of you, you tucked into his chest and Jons face tucked into your hair, his arms wrapped firmly around you, and nothing but the peace of your son together still slumbering behind you both.

He had not a clue what came over him that night, and still, part of it scared him. He had been so blatantly possessive of you in an unhinged manner, a feral sort of way. It was the side of him which had truly wanted to tie you to his bed and never again let you leave it, keep you spread open for him to fuck over and over at every perfect time, keep you here for him alone and refuse to share you ever again.

It was incredibly intense, and he had gone so much more rough then he knew he should’ve, but yet you seemed incredibly happy snuggling further into his front as you slept. Jon knew as he laid there, there were a few places such an intenseness could’ve come from, but one of those options scared him more then the other.

He was a Stark, the White Wolf, wolves were protective of their mates. Thats all this was, Jon told himself. Nothing else. He loved you with everything his soul and heart had, that much was true, but an obsession had taken over Jon that night inside of you, and Jon for the first real time lay there trying to fall asleep, cock still sunk deeply into your cunt. It was not the first time a Stark had ever asked himself that question, but it was the first time, Jon had ever asked the question about himself. The worrying wonder of just how much of his father did he inherit.

The question Jon fell asleep with repeating in his head, how much of Rhaegar Targaryean was actually running through his veins.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones imagine #asoiaf imagine

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sorrowedpickle · 1 year ago

Text

In my arms

Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Summary: times are hard for Jenna while filming for Wednesday, so you decide to pay her a little visit

A/N: I was eating Reese pieces while making this

A lil short once again

Warnings: none? I think

Your fingers drum on your knees as you stare out the window, eyes watching the trees and buildings pass in the dark night as the Uber drives you from the air port to your girlfriends apartment, well her temporary one.

It had been hard on her, the filming of Wednesday was a difficult process. She would wake up earlier than the rest of the cast to get ready and film, practicing different things to make her role perfectly.

Then, without even having a break from her hours of work, her Cello instructor would be waiting inside her apartment for her to start their session. Leaving her absolutely exhausted with not much sleep, the most she can get is only about six to seven before getting up and repeating the whole process.

She had called you a number of times, crying her eyes out and seeking your comfort late at night. Ranting about all of it while all you could do is sit there and listen, heartbreaking as you listen to the poor girl as she speaks and cries.

So, you did the only thing you knew you could do. Bought the expensive ass plane ticket, went through the whole process of getting through security only for the flight to be delayed for a few hours next to a screaming baby.

But, it was all worth for her, especially since she’s gone through worse in the past few months you two have been apart. It’s the least you could do instead of just lazing around your home worrying about her.

Eventually, you arrive at the apartment building and get out, hauling your duffel bag over your shoulders and paying the uber a decently large tip and stepping inside making a beeline for the elevator and luckily, the lady at the front desk doesn’t question you.

You feel a mixture of emotions running through your body as you wait for the elevator to take you up to Jenna's apartment. On one hand, you're excited to finally see her after being apart for what feels like forever. On the other hand, you're a bit anxious about how she'll react to your surprise visit.

The elevator doors open, and you step out into a quiet hallway. You make your way down the hall, feeling a bit nervous as you approach the door to Jenna's apartment.

You feel your heart race as you knock on Jenna's apartment door. A few moments later, you hear soft footsteps and the sound of locks being undone. The door opens, and Jenna stands there in shock, her eyes wide and her mouth open.

Before she can say anything, you step forward and wrap your arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace eager to feel her in your arms again. She immediately melts into you, clinging to you tightly.

You feel her shudder slightly, tense body relaxing under your hold and you take a moment to realize how much you’ve actually missed her. Her smell, the way she felt, her holding you. "You're here," she whispers.

"Of course I am," you respond, running your fingers through her dark hair. You breathe in the scent of her shampoo and feel the weight of her head on your chest. It's like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, and all the tension and worry of the past few weeks dissolves into nothing.

For a moment, you stand there, simply enjoying the sensation of her in your arms. You had gone too had been too long without holding the petite girl and she seemed to agree as her grip tightens on you.

You slowly pull away but not too far, reaching one hand up to rest on the side of her face causing her to look up at you with those beautiful brown eyes.

You smile, pressing a gently yet needy kiss to her soft lips that she immediately returns, placing both of her arms around your shoulders to pull you closer.

Then, with a sigh of contentment, you slowly pull away and gently lift her up bridal style and carry her inside the apartment, kicking your duffle back to sit beside the door.

As you make your way through the apartment, you take the time to look around the place. It was small but enough room for one person, her things liter around the place made it seem fit just for her. The take out boxes helped with that too.

You enter her room and gently set her down on her bed, noticing how exhausted she looks after the long hours she’s been working. Her skin is pale, and she has dark circles under her eyes from fatigue. You brush her hair back from her face, noticing how long it's grown since you last saw her, and kiss her tenderly on the forehead. "I'm here now," you say softly. "You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Jenna looks up at you with a soft look on her face. The small smile made your heart melt, and you can feel her arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly. You smile down at her, feeling the way your heart beat started up and warmth that filled your stomach. She seemed to always have that affect on you no matter how long you’ve known her.

"I missed you so much," Jenna says, her voice trembling.

"I missed you too," you reply, brushing a strand of hair from her face. A smell smile rest on your face as you stare at her, deep brown eyes tired but so full of life, freckles scattered across the pale skin she had earned from the lack of sun in Romania. "Let's get you some rest, okay?"

You help her shift into the bed and get comfortable, moving to lay beside her in the her back pressed into your front as you wrap your arms around her and pull her impossibly closer. Her arms wrap around yours, gripping tightly as she’s in a dream and you’ll disappear when she wakes.

You simply just kiss the back of her head, legs intertwining with hers and you take her hand, linking your fingers together and squeezing them gently.

You both lay there in the bed, listening to the gentle sound of each other's breathing, lost in each other's embrace. You feel your limbs growing heavy with weariness, but you don't want to let go. You want to stay here, in this moment, with her forever.

Just as you think you might drift off to sleep, you hear Jenna's voice, soft and husky. "I love you," she says, her breath warming the skin on your arms causing goosebumps to run along your skin.

You smile, your heart swelling with love. "I love you too," you say, your voice just as quiet and tender as hers.

As you drift off to sleep, you're filled with a sense of peace and contentment. This is home, her in your arms.

—

Tagslist: @bluetreecloud20 @skate-to-breathee @wol-fica @raven-ss @restlessdot @dumb-fvck104 @tabberthecat @crazyoffher @rhythm-catsandwine @makncheese12 @alexkolax @jennasfav @melthedwarf @t-wylia @unknownuserzdjdh @pnsteblnme @eevelyn

A/N: something I had saved in my notes for a bit.

Also please let me know what you think, I’m not sure about it😭

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x reader #lorraine day x reader #x reader #tara carpenter #vada cavell x reader #x fem reader #wednsday addams #wednesday series

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books-and-catears · 11 months ago

Note

I need to cry, my suicide tendencies are at there peak, can you help me with something with the Obey me brothers?

Like please I want to cry my eyes out

Okay hon, you really need to talk to someone about this okay? Please make sure you're not alone. I'm so sorry this is happening to you. I don't know what's wrong but things always get better...You will get through this. Again please talk to someone and don't isolate yourself okay?

It's been a while since I've received this ask, I apologise deeply for the delay, and I sincerely hope you're feeling better now.

TW: Suicide ideation

Cry Your Heart Out

Lucifer doesn't like the way your eyes look as you sit in on another RAD council meeting. Your mind is far, far away. Like you don't want to be here. He ended the meeting early so you could go home. But you look the same.

"MC." He knocks on your door after dinner. You open the door. Somehow your eyes look worse. His gut screams at him to not leave you alone.

"I feel particularly tired today. Would you like to listen to some music with me?" He asks. You shrug and say, "Sure." You almost seem like you're on autopilot.

He takes you by the hand and leads you down. The music has a strange melancholy that stung your heart. Like it understood you. Like it was screaming your misery out loud. You didn't know when your face flushed red, steaming tears falling off your cheeks. In the next second, you're buried in his chest.

"I- I can't-"

"You don't have to say anything. Just stay here for as long as you want."

❄️

Mammon didn't like the way you were avoiding him. It's not like you were ignoring him, but you seemed so distant. So...disheartened. Why? He couldn't even bring himself to ask.

There was something he dreaded deeply about the answer. Because he'd seen a semblance of those eyes before and it never ended well. And the long rope just resting on your desk brought forth more worry.

"Oi Lucifer, I have a favor to ask." He muttered into his phone. That day, after school, you found him hanging upside down from the ceiling in your room.

"Mammon what-"

"What's wrong with ya lately?"

"Me? I'm fine-"

"I can't get down unless you tell me the truth. These ropes are enchanted and everything! So if you want me out of here, you better spill okay?!"

Why do you care? The question died in your throat. And you spilled tears before words. He was down in seconds, cooing in shock and distress. "Oi, I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

But you held on tight to his jacket. He cared. That was all you needed really.

❄️

Leviathan was sitting straighter than usual as you entered his room. Alert and eager. You almost felt bad coming all the way to his room to tell him you don't feel like gaming today. But the console wasn't even plugged.

"Hey Levi-"

"Don't do it. Don't you think about it!" He sounds around. He was trembling, on the brink of crying.

"O-okay I won't say no to gaming with you I'm sorry I didn't know-" You bent down to his level. He caught you offguard, throwing his arms around you.

"You're thinking of leaving again, aren't you?" Levi's voice cracked, muffled in your shoulder. "You're thinking of going away and never coming back."

"Wait...Levi, when did I even say-"

"I thought you were just spending less time with me, I just assumed you finally got tired of me. But then you weren't with my brothers either... you're tired of ALL OF US."

You were tired of yourself, you wanted to reassure him. But he wasn't going to stop wailing anytime soon. In your heart you were just a little bit glad to have someone want you.

"Please don't go... we'll be better. I'll be better. I'll be even better than my brothers! I'll try my best to be! So don't you dare thinking of going anywhere!"

❄️

Satan seemed to be extra wary of you during all the magical classes. Potions, Charms, Curses and hexes - everywhere the demon of Wrath followed even tricking teachers if he needed to.

"I'm not trying skip my classes or anything, Satan." You said one day, turning to look at him. It was the last class of the day and everyone had left the room except the two of you.

"What I'm worried about is much worse than that and you know it, MC. Now let's go home."

He reaches out his hand. You don't take it, just sighing and glancing at the potion on your desk.

"Everyday I wake up hoping that all these bad feelings were a nightmare. But every morning, it's real. I'm tired."

"What is it that worries you so?" He leans down to cup your face, turning your eyes to meet his earnest ones.

"It's a human problem."

"I don't need to be human to understand your pains. Just give it a chance, won't you?"

You left the classroom holding his hand, the vial of the Sleeping Draught potion you'd concocted lay smashed, a mess on the floor. Satan apologized for his clumsiness.

❄️

Asmodeus had the unfortunate timing to barge in the middle of your breakdown. He gasped and fell to the ground watchin you curled up in bed with your eyes red and puffed up.

Immediately on his knees he crawls towards you, his gentle touch nudging you back to some resemblance of reality. "Darling..."

"I'm fine. Just need some more rest." You shook your head and tried to brave a smile. "Need to be alone and relax a bit."

"Oh MC, if it's relaxation you want, there's noone but me that can provide you the best!" He promptly tucked you in the sheets with him.

"Asmo I don't need-"

"Shhh! Give me a chance, won't you? If you don't like within 10 minutes, I'll leave you alone."

You closed your eyes and sighed, wanting to get over it. But then Asmo's fingers ran through your hair, soft and cool, gentle and slow. For once, all the horrible voices in your head fell asleep before you did.

"How do you feel MC?" He coos as he brushes some hair off your forehead. You only murmur in hia name in response, he chuckles and pulls you closer. His heart beats easier seeing you at peace.

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chaifootsteps · 5 months ago

Note

It's always surprising to me how many new weird things keep happening around HH and HB. Not weird as in haha weird, but weird as in "What did I just read, and how do I forget it?" weird. In just the last few days we've had:

Someone say that slavery is "barely" used in the hellaverse

Another person downplay the unfortunate history and practice of enslaved children being given as "playmates"

Michael's post talking about how a Valentino cosplayer assaulted (because yes this is full on assault) him at a con

Someone try to shame said assault victim for sharing his experience

A video posted of a NINE!!! year old asking the VAs a very inappropriate question for someone that age at an official panel with who how many people attending (Also can we talk about how terrible this video is for that kid? Because now their face has been posted for so many people to see, and let's be real there are weird people online who will say horrible mean things about them.)

A VA making light of said video and the weird situation, because apparently a grown person asking a weird/fetishy/sexual question to another adult is comparable to a child, who again is NINE, asking something like that

The same VA then deleting said joke and afterwards going "Oh I guess twitter isn't the place to have nuanced conversations"

The same VA then deleting the post made after the weird joke and trying to bury by mass posting about other topics

The new HB episode being teased further

Said episode being delayed

A weird hashtag going around trying to pressure for the release of the new episode

Posting date for episode being announced

There are probably a bunch things that happened that I didn't mention, but it's wild that this happened in just a few days. It's like the hellaverse spreads a toxic around it that both attracts weird things and makes the already present weirdness get weirder.

I think the worst for me was the video thing. It really just showed that even the VAs don't really care if people so young are watching this content. I was so disappointed that the question was even answered. The VA that asked the question was probably just trying to be nice to the kid, but I feel like they could have encouraged for a new question to be asked or just anything. The parent that brought the kid to the panel cannot have their head screwed on right. Why would you let your NINE YEAR OLD child ask a full grown adult a question like that. The dumpster fire that the hellaverse is continues to burn, and I'm gonna keep watching. Just from far far fffaaaarrrr away, like need a telescope distance away.

Didn't I tell you way back that as the normal, reasonable people drifted away, the crazies were going to get louder and worse? Well, here we are.

#anonymous #viv stuff #vivziepop fandom #actual blog post

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wixxid · 8 months ago

Text

IVORY · PART ll

Fandom: Dune

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Female OC

Words: 1,658

Warnings: dark themes, abuse, and arranged marriage

Summary: Deceit leaves you waiting in doubt, while also allowing you a glimpse into the violence that is house Harkonnen.

"It's been days."

Sitting at the metal dining table, you stare down at the meal sitting on your plate; a platter of strange meat and fruit. It's late evening and yet you've still to see the sky. The duke sits the table opposite of you, troubled with a face equally as displeased as you sound.

Three day's have passed since your arrival to Giedi Prime.

That's how long you've been waiting to hear from the Barron. That's how long he's been making the envoy wait, with little to no news other than the fact his nephew is nearing to the planets orbit.

Feyd-Rautha was never here.

We've travelled time and space only to be left in disillusion. Stranded and seething in what is only another insult. The Barron had denied all your fathers requests to speak. We're to simply wait the coming time for the ceremony to take place.

"Is he dead?"

The question slips from between your lips, more as a suggestion than a question. In these last few days you've been contemplating the delay in your marriage to the Harkonnen. Your mind couldn't help but wander to the faint possibility.

You're father glanced you and then to the female servants. He utters, "Don't say that?"

Turning your eyes to the women, you observe how still the three of them stand. Their bald heads are bowed lowly, their eyes everted as if it were forbidden to look upon us. Neither of them spoke, a noticeable trait amongst these walls. It's terribly quiet.

"Do you think they listen?"

The duke sighed with a gesture, "All of you, leave us."

Immediately, the three women scurried from your site and out of the dining room. It leaves only the two of you now. Taking your glass of drink, filled with a substance you could only describe as strong - alcoholic - you take a sip.

"Don't get comfortable," he counselled. "They all listen. The servants. The guards. The walls. There's nowhere here you can ever believe is secure."

"Then why do we stay?"

He paused, "You know why."

Getting up from your seat, you headed towards a decorative wall ornament. A silver plate, rippled and bent into an unusual disk. The shiny chrome reflects the jarred image of your pale face.

"I'd accepted my fate from the beginning," you started whilst refusing to look at him. You can feel the emotions bubbling within your chest. "I'd made peace and readied myself for our arrival - and for nothing - to be made a fool."

"If he didn't need our alliance, then we wouldn't be here."

"You think he'd kill us?"

"Yes, and yet we still breathe," replied your father. "Whatever it is that's happening, it's not without reason. I don't believe this is the Barron's doing."

"Then it's true."

"What is?"

Your turned around, "Feyd-Rautha."

The duke tensed at the mention, before looking away with a sigh of defeat. It haunts him. Your father never wanted to speak of the marriage. It was your mother who came to you after the fact, confessing the identity of your match.

Your father is too shamed. Surrendering to the enemy and going so far as to parlay with his only daughter. It had hurt the mans pride, not only as a duke but as a father. He wanted better for you, better than a monster.

"He can't hurt -."

"Don't lie to me," you interjected. "As soon as it's done and I'm alone, there's nothing he can't do to hurt me."

"He won’t kill you."

"No," you mutter bitterly. Pausing, you emptied your cup with a last mouthful. "That would mean mercy."

Pursing your lips, you flare at his poor attempt to reassure your welfare. There's paths worse than death, and murder is too clean. Striding across the dining hall, you exited hastily without properly bidding him goodnight.

It angers you.

This waiting game has brought you to the edge of sanity. As you said before, you'd made peace with the situation, but now you're unsure. You're stuck in a twisted purgatory; neither free from this place nor bound to it.

Navigating the abandoned hallways, the click of your heels echoes amongst the wide tunnel like space. The palace is endless and vast, and sometimes you wonder what you might discover if you were to steer from the trail.

There's much the other houses don't know about the Harkonnen's. They're a secretive and sly race, who don't take kindly to sharing their technology and resources; other than the exorbitant production of Spice.

"Why are you following me?"

Pausing in the middle of the hall, you waited for the hidden figure to emerge from the shadows. You had herd them trailing you from the moment you left the dining room. Their mind is far too active for you to ignore amidst the emptiness.

"It's only polite to mind one's guests. The palace walls can easily deceive the unfamiliar."

Piter appears the dank recesses of the hallway, still clothed in traditional black. The two of you have barely associated after your initial contact upon arrival, but you aren't at all surprised to find him lurking.

"And what might I find, if I were to stray?" you asked daringly. "Perhaps the truth?"

"The truth isn't always worth it's labour."

You're gaze narrows, "Tell me what you want."

"Answers," he simply responded. "It's my function to seek answers - even to questions still yet to come."

"Isn't it only inevitable."

"In a manner, but why not reach for the power of foresight?"

Stepping towards him, you inch closer to the mentat; until you're merely inches from one another. Although he doesn’t move, you can see the uncertainty in his face. He expects you be otherwise, but you react differently; a miscalculation.

“Tell me my future.”

He looks at you with hesitation, before answering. “Your future is your own creation. But,” he adds whilst looking you up and down. “I do expect it be bleak.”

You scoff beneath your breath. He’s blunt, but at the very least he shows honesty. It may not be on the most respectful of terms, but it's better than you expect. Eyeing him once more, you leave Piter alone in the darkened hallway.

Walking back to your room, you're quick to take notice of the servant standing idly outside of your doorway. This one’s different. You’ve not see her face before. There seems to be quite a few, following you like shadows.

“A bath,” you instruct, to which she obeys.

Opening the door to your room, you enter first while she trails afterwards. Swiftly she maneuvers herself to prepare the bath in the adjoining room. It’s gives you time to breath, and you do so deeply.

The weight on your shoulders is overbearing. A force to be reckoned. You’ve been on constant guard the moment you step foot on this rock, and although you know you shouldn’t allow yourself to slip, you bring yourself at ease.

If only for a moment.

The servant returns, helping you undress from the layers of clothing that've been shielding you from the many faces. They’re not to see you before the ceremony, but you’d rather they don’t see you at all.

It’s easier to hide.

Slipping into the hot bath, you submerge down into the milky white water. It smells subtle but flowery, not a smell you first expected to breath in a place like this. You'd expected something unpleasant and sterile.

They say the Barron himself bathes in vats of black oil. They dredge it from this very terrain. It's supposedly a mineral enriched concoction. A way to heal the mans fowl wounds and morbidly ill health.

Improbable.

Rotating your neck, you ease the taut ache within your muscles. The ceremony will be soon, if not tomorrow then surely the next. You’ve not seen their ways of marriage, but you imagine it to be cold and emotionless; savage.

It’ll more akin to a fete, than a true celebration.

Sponging along the length of your arms and shoulders, the servant carefully washes you as if you're made of precious material. Leaning over, you cant help but catch site of the bruised flesh at her collar.

“Stop.”

Immediately, the woman stills like a statue. Your damp fingertips running across her soft but marred skin; the color of deep purple. She flinches when you press the tender wound. It's recent enough.

“Who did this to you?”

Remaining quiet, her unmoving eyes stare into the distance. Fear or loyalty. Either way she refuses to reveal the abuser. The artery at her neck throbs with the increase of her heartrate.

“Speak.”

She stumbles at the sound of The Voice. It brings her to her knees, hand splashing against the waters surface as she tries to steady herself. The answer you compel comes unwillingly and to a surprise.

“Ne-Barron."

Frightful eyes gape up at you, body shaking as she tries to come to terms with the power that'd overcome her freewill. Disorientation. As much as her instincts beg for her to flee, she makes no move to runaway; to scream in horror and obscenity.

Instead, she collects herself as much as she can, before retrieving the sponge to continue bathing your flesh. There's no need to force for further elaboration. Her words came accompanied with a testament of emotions.

Torture.

Torment.

A common endurance on this planet. Resting in the bath, you only need to imagine as to why the brute would decide to leave the servant so obviously bruised and battered; only the reason hardly matters. Logic is for the sane.

Feyd-Rautha is psychotic.

Your only real concern is, if he's so willing to inflict pain and suffering to that of his own people, then what might he do to you; an outsider. An Atreides. Those bruises hold no shame or remorse. They stand as his representation.

Would he make you walk among them as another?

A symbol of his dominion.

#fanfic #female oc #fanfiction #feyd rautha #joe x female oc #dune #house harkonnen #feyd rautha harkonnen #Atreides!Female OC #feyd x you #dune 2024 #dune part two #series

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darksigns-exe · 3 months ago

Text

anywhere with you - noah sebastian x nick ruffilo

word count: 1.1k warnings: mentions of anxiety, a little bit of angst and a lot of big feelings note: by request from @somewhere-diamond <3 sorry for the wild delay!

Nick is awfully quiet, he thinks. He’s never the boisterous type, but he’s quiet even for his standards today. There’s a barely there edge of anxiety to him, and Noah knows that it must be so much worse under the surface. He watches as Nick fiddles with the sleeves of his hoodie, and his heart aches a little. Noah tries to think of an excuse to get the rest of the band out of the house. He can’t exactly usher them out with a my maybe boyfriend needs quiet time please leave. As far as they are concerned, he and Nick share this place as friends and nothing more. They don’t know that Noah hasn’t slept in his own bed since the week after they’ve moved in here.

Thankfully, Jolly is somewhat attentive and seems to understand the non-verbal cues just fine. Not even twenty minutes later, he’s practically dragging Folio out by the back of his jacket.

Nick seems to deflate as soon as the door clicks shut behind them. And when Noah comes back into their little living room, he finds him in a truly pitiful state. He looks as if he’s one bad thought away from breaking into tears, and he simply can’t have that. They’ve been here often enough for Noah to know how to approach him, but everything feels so different now.

“Nick?” he asks softly, trying not to spook him too much.

The deep furrow of Nick’s brow makes his chest ache a little. If there was a way for him to take that feeling away entirely, he would.

“Is it okay if I hold you? Or do you need something else?”

Nick blinks up at him for a moment, and Noah thinks that he looks so terribly unsure of everything.

“Can we just sit here for a bit?” Nick replies, sounding so very timid.

Noah sits next to him on the sofa in an instant, “Of course. Whatever you need.”

Nick’s held him like this plenty of times and Noah still feels a little clumsy about this, but if Nick needs to burrow his face into his chest, then he’ll give him that. And really, if he can accept this softness from him, it’s only right and fair if he gives a little bit of it back. He’s content to hold him like this for as long as Nick needs it. One hand rubbing soothingly along his back, while the other rests just above his waist.

This all is still so tender and Noah isn’t quite sure what exactly they are, but he knows that Nick means more to him than anyone else ever has.

“What brought this on?” he asks after a while.

Nick shifts in his embrace, twists out of it so that he can look up at him.

Noah can’t help himself then. His fingers brush along Nick’s cheek before he can stop himself. Nick practically melts into the touch, and maybe that already gives him the answer to his question.

“I don’t think that I want to hide this – us – from them. I want to be able to hold your hand when they’re around. I know this is new but –” he trails off into mumbled words and Noah won’t force from him – not today.

“We don’t have to hide.” Noah says and finds himself sounding surprisingly firm, “I love you Nick and I don’t want to hide it from our friends.”

Something flickers across Nick’s face then, and a moment later he sees him swallow down a shaky breath.

“I know we haven’t really talked about what this is. But I don’t think that people who are just friends touch each other like that.”

Nick gives a faint little chuckle at that, “I agree.”

He sits up then, but remains close enough for his knees to still touch Noah’s thigh.

“Can we go back to what you said before that?”

Part of him wants to play dumb and make him specify what part he means. But Noah knows exactly what he means.

“The bit about us not having talked about this? We should go back to that, yes.”

Nick shakes his head, “The other thing. You love me?”

He sounds almost surprised, and maybe that stings a little. But he knows that Nick is so willing to give love without expecting anything in return that it doesn’t really surprise him.

“Of course I do. I think I always have in a way.” he replies, “I’m not always good at saying it or showing it, but I’ve never cared more for anyone.”

The kiss that follows carries more meaning than the words ever could. It’s chaste in its own way, gentle and sweet, and fills Noah’s chest with warmth. They never quiet part, Nick remains pressed up against him for a long while, and Noah can’t exactly complain about that.

They spent the remainder of their evening with re-heated takeaway and a movie they’ve seen plenty of times. For once, Nick is the one resting against his chest, instead of it being the other way around. Noah keeps his arms wrapped around his middle, his hand resting comfortably on Nick’s tummy. They’ve kissed before, they’ve done more than that, but for some reason he still has to work himself up to press his lips against Nick’s cheek.

Nick tries to peer up at him then.

“Watch your film.” Noah whispers and seals the words with another soft kiss.

Nick turns back to the TV rather reluctantly. And when Noah trails his kisses a little lower, he doesn’t turn to face him again. Instead, he just melts further against him.

The moment is so perfectly mundane.

When the credits roll across the screen, Nick slowly begins to shift again. Noah can’t quite bring himself to release him just yet, though.

“Stay here for a moment?” he asks, pulling Nick a little bit closer again, “Tell me if it gets bad, okay? Doesn’t matter what’s going on or where we are. If you need out, tell me. I know that I can’t magic that feeling away, but if I can help make it better, I want to do that.”

“I think I just needed to hear you say it. Going from being able to touch you just like that to having to hide how I really feel didn’t make me feel good.”

The admission stings a little, but it’s good to know what Nick needs from this – from him.

“Then we don’t hide it. I’m all yours anyway.” Noah replies.

Nick is curled against his front when they finally find their way into bed. His hand wraps around the one Noah had placed against his chest.

“Noah?”

He hums in acknowledgement.

“I love you too.”

taglist:@deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

#noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo #nick ruffilo fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 7 months ago

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Promise

We will pretend it hasn't been 3 weeks since I made this post asking for writing ideas.

Anyway, @wangxian-stan here's the idea you suggested, I hope you like it and sorry for the delay!

Here's the prompt:

It is so quiet in the jingshi that, if Lan Wangji tried, he would even be able to hear the sizzle of wax melting under the gentle flames of the candle wicks. The silence rings in his ears – and not even the sounds of the night outside are doing much to fill it.

It’s unnerving. Such undisturbed silence reminds him of times he would rather forget. Of loneliness, pain and the discordant notes of songs ending in tears, the bitter taste of alcohol and regret.

The dull sting of his wounds being cleaned adds on to that – especially since the claw marks on his back cross over the faded scars of the discipline whip. It feels almost uncanny, some kind of déjà vu – except it is not a healer or his brother that is helping clean and bandage his wounds, but his husband.

However, for all the teasing and talking Wei Wuxian does, the energy and the liveliness that Lan Wangji loves him for – he is being unsettlingly quiet as well. He has been this way ever since Lan Wangji returned from his night hunt with the back of his robes torn into, red painting the edges. The injuries do look worse than they feel and Lan Wangji made sure to tell his husband this much from the start – but Wei Wuxian seemed a bit too shaken by the sight to really listen, his expression darkening and his voice waning until he decided not to speak anymore at all.

And so, he is now tending to Lan Wangji’s wounds, with the gentleness and care of someone that has known far too much pain, his fingertips trembling on the washcloth as he cleans the injured skin. The beast had hurt him not out of an oversight, but rather, as a choice – he had not thought much about it, intercepting the hit in place of Lan Jingyi more out of instinct than anything else. Whilst a hit like that would do little more than inconvenience him, someone as young as Jingyi could have been incapacitated by it for a long time – so it was a small price to pay, in hindsight.

But it does make Lan Wangji’s heart squeeze to see his beloved be so affected.

The ointment Wei Wuxian uses on him next smells of herbs and the faint scent of disinfectant – again, much too familiar. A very effective cure, developed by the Lan healers long ago, though unkind to the touch. It stings terribly being placed on an open wound, Lan Wangji knows it better than anyone.

Which is why he’s tried to keep his reaction contained, not wanting to worry his husband any more – yet a faint hiss does still leave his lips as Wei Wuxian applies some of the medicine to his wounds. His fingertips lift off the sensitive skin, and a gentle current of cool air blows over the sting to soothe it. The knowledge Wei Wuxian is so gentle moves Lan Wangji to finally speak.

“Wei Ying…”

The other makes a questioning noise, continuing to gently blow over the wound and alleviate the sting.

“It is alright. I feel fine.”

“It’s important to make sure you heal properly. Do you know how easy it is to get an infection from something like this? Open wounds must be treated seriously even if they’re not bad.”

Lan Wangji feels like those words are not Wei Wuxian’s own, rather repeating what he himself has heard a long time ago, a lifetime ago, from somebody that had been too good at her craft to die the way that she had.

“You need to be more careful.” Wei Wuxian adds, the tone of his voice softer, worried and loving all the same.

“I am.” Lan Wangji replies, and he’s being truthful in this simple, confident reply. He is careful, calculated and precise – but not when it comes to protecting the people he cares about. There is no time for him to weigh his options when danger befalls somebody he considers part of his family, and he knows Wei Wuxian cannot blame him for it – because he does the same.

Wei Wuxian carefully covers the wounds in bandages, his touch light. “You know what I mean. You got off easy now, but what if it won’t be like this next time?”

Lan Wangji sighs, fondly, warmth blooming in his chest at his husband’s worry. “Wei Ying…”

“I know, you’re the great, peerless, undefeated Hanguang-Jun…” he smiles as he says it, “…but you’re not immortal.”

“Not yet.”

That pulls a light chuckle out of Wei Wuxian, and it is the first time that night that the heaviness in the jingshi lifts. “Well, since you promised me forever, that means you have to make sure you get there in one piece.”

A smile tugs at the corners of Lan Wangji’s lips. “I will. I promise.”

He feels a soft pair of lips at the nape of his neck, Wei Wuxian’s lips whispering into his skin. “I’ll hold you to that.”

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts #i loved writing this #and i realized how much i missed writing

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randomimaginesideas · 8 months ago

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Let me rage part 2

Summary; Finally reunited Valtor and (Y/n) can get back to conquer the magic dimension. (Y/N) gets to meet the Trix and shows why she is Valtor’s right hand. Deciding to infiltrate Alfea she meets the Winx, and becomes an important player in this battle.

This work is also published on AO3 under my username Acourtoffanficsandfeelings, if you prefer to read it there.

Continuation of Together again, and second part of let me rage.

A/N; First, I am incredibly sorry for the delay. I was having an intense writer's block for a certain part in this chapter and didn’t really know how to continue.

It seems that to this day Valtor is still a beloved character, and this fic still gets kudos, and comments. And that motivates me to write. So even if it has taken a while I hope I’ve managed to write a chapter you’re all very happy to read, as I did my best to make it as long as possible to make it up to you guys. While writing this chapter I concluded that this part of the series will be 3 chapters instead of the original two, as I felt it would have the story flow more.

Also because I hope this way to fetch out the character of the reader more, to give her some emotions, and struggles, while still remaining an badass amazing villain lover. And to show you some more moments between Valtor and (Y/N).

So I want to thank everybody again for sticking around,and reading this after my long absence, and if you just found the fic and this was already out when you found my fic, I hope you also enjoy everything that I’ve written so far.

Monday morning. Idle chatter could be heard filling the classroom as some of the Alfea students were waiting for their new teacher to make an appearance. A teacher who was ten minutes late. When the wooden doors started to creak, and announced the arrival of somebody the chatter slowly faded out, and silence filled the room. “Sorry class, I know I’m late, but as I’m sure some of you would agree with me, this school can be quite a maze.” The students, including the famous Winx, watched as the new teacher made her way towards the desk, and placed her bag on it before turning around to face her students. “Hello class, I’m Professor Whiteshade, and I am your new teacher specialized in Enchantix.”

While she was introducing herself (Y/N) could feel the eyes of the students observing her. They took in the white floor length dress that she wore, with the black belt across her waist. She could feel their eyes looking at her blond hair that was so pale it almost looked white when the lights hit it in a certain spot. It had been pulled into an intricate bun to keep the hair out of her face. (Y/N) didn't like the look she had currently on, but there have been worse faces she had turned into.

One of the students raised her hand, gaining (Y/N)’s attention who smiled at her. “Yes,-” She glanced down at one of the papers on her desk, pretending not to have seen Bloom before. Valtor had shown her some of the winx in his scrying orb and explained the most important facts she needed to know: like the fact that Bloom was the fairy of the dragon flame. “Bloom, is it?” The red head nodded, before asking her question. “Not to be rude professor, but why are we now suddenly getting this extra class in our curriculum?”

“Not rude at all, and an understandable question at that. I understand you’re not looking forward to more homework, so I will try to keep it at a minimum. As you all are well aware there is a new threat trying to conquer the magic dimension.” (Y/N) voice got serious as she looked across the room, seeing multiple defeated faces of the fairies who’s home had been affected by Valtor. A good person would have felt bad when she looked at those faces, but (Y/N) knew that sometimes things had to be destroyed for a new world to rise again. A world in which she and Valtor ruled the magic dimension.

“Headmistress Feragonda has asked me to come to Alfea, and teach and guide you students as you learn more about Enchantix in these troubling times. From the information I’ve gotten, two of you have already received your Enchantix.” (Y/N)’s eyes found those of Aisha and Stella, whom she gave a reassuring smile. “You should be proud of yourselves for earning your Enchantix, despite how grave the situation was in which you’ve gotten them.” (Y/N) focused on the class again. Aisha’s and Stella’s expression grew dark as (Y/N) could see the memories of those moments come back to the girls.

“Enchantix isn’t easily gained, it requires great sacrifice. I know of fairies who’ve nearly died in their efforts to earn their Enchantix. And sometimes you need to sacrifice your own happiness and choose to do what’s right because not everything that makes you happy is right.”

~~~

“Are you sure this is the only way?” (Y/n) asked as she looked at the beaten and locked up form of professor Whiteshade, who was currently lying unconscious on the floor. “You know that there is nobody I trust more with this than you.” (Y/N) felt Valtor place his hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her. The two of them were standing in front of Whiteshade’s cell, which was located one floor above Griffins, where Valtor had told her his plan regarding Alfea. “We need to have an inside source, and find the hall of enchantment. They will notice if I or the Trix slip by but they won’t notice you.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, knowing he was right, but not really agreeing with the plan.

“I’ve only just returned to you, and you wish to have me leave again.” She muttered, feeling rejected. Valtor quickly turned her around, guiding her by her shoulders. One of his hands grabbed her chin gently between two fingers, and tilted her head up. “That is a cruel thing to say, for you know that is not my intention. I’ve missed you with all my heart, and I dislike this plan as much as you do, but there is nobody I trust more with this than you. And the sooner this is over with, the sooner you can return to me.” Valtor said as he looked into her eyes, and pressed a brief kiss on (Y/N)’s lips.

A sigh left her lips afterwards as she enjoyed the closeness between them for a moment, knowing that she would have to part from it again so soon, and then she relented. “Alright, I’ll do it.” Valtor smiled at her as he slowly released her from his hold. (Y/N) turned to look at the real professor Whiteshade again, as she whispered a spell, closing her eyes. As soon as the spell had crossed her lips the shadows around them in the room seemed to twist and turn as they started to glide across her body. Through the glimpses of shadow Valtor could see her clothing change from the black dress she wore to a red sundress. Her (Y/H/C) turned into the lightest of blondes. And when the shadows moved away, and (Y/N) opened her eyes, even her eye color had changed.

She looked almost identical to the professor Whiteshade in the cell, only the trained eye would spot the differences. A mole that wasn’t there where it usually was, a scar that wasn’t there, perhaps a bit more weight on the arms or legs. (Y/N) had always been able to manipulate the shadows, to make things seem different from what actually, but only small things like books, trinkets or furniture. But during her years with Valtor he had taught her to think bigger, to practice her spells, and now she was almost able to place the spell on almost anything. For everything in the shadows is not what it seems.

~~~

It had been two weeks since (Y/N) had arrived at Alfea and she was annoyed. She knew she was doing important work for Valtor, passing along information from the room of enhancement to Valtor, but those types of things took time. It turned out that Alfea had finally invested in a librarian who took her work seriously. Although it wasn’t difficult for (Y/N) to charm Barbatea, and learn all about the library. But it also meant that Barbatea knew every nook and cranny, and would know it if things disappeared. So (Y/N) was forced to make copies of some of the lesser important spells, and tried to find substitutes for the more important books and scrolls. (Y/N) was particularly proud of the erotic romance novel she had managed to look like an ancient spell book. Now she just hoped that nobody would open the book.

After spending seventeen years as a statue, her powers were still on the weaker side. Each week she felt her power grow, and Valtor had helped her by sharing his power. But from the moment she had woken up she had used her magic continuously. Pretending to be Griffin when anybody would try to contact her to keep up the appearance that Cloud Tower was still standing. Or that one time they had intercepted a call from Feragonda to King Radius to ask how things were regarding the fountain, and King Radius had replied that; everything was quiet but they would keep an eye out for anything strange and notify her when they did. And now, (Y/N) had to continue to keep up the appearance as professor Whiteshade, and keep the illusions of the books going even if she wasn’t anywhere near them.

And on top of all that she had to actually teach the students something about Enchantix. The first couple of days (Y/N) had mostly placed the focus on introductions in the class, and to Enchanctix, telling what she knew of Enchantix, but she was running out of information. So one day she had made a parkour course for her Enchantix students, before letting them race the others. To make the students see how much stronger they would become if they earned Enchantix, and why it came with such a heavy price.

But the thing that kept (Y/N) going was the fact that she knew Valtor was growing stronger every time she sent him something through the shadows. And Valtor also seemed to know when to say something to her, even when he couldn’t speak with her.

~~~

It was dark in the library, most of the Alfea students were in bed, as were most of its teachers. Barbatea had just wished (Y/N) goodnight, after (Y/N) had promised the librarian she would lock up behind her, but just wanted to research one more thing before her class tomorrow. (Y/N) had turned off the lights, preferring the light from the moon shining through the windows. (Y/N) always waited half an hour after everybody had left to make sure that Barbatea wouldn’t just reappear.

When the half hour had passed (Y/N) slowly rose from the chair she had been vacating, and she closed the book she had been reading. From her bag, which was filled with her students' homework to keep up appearances, she grabbed a gardening book that she had taken from the greenhouse earlier today. After placing it on the table right next to the one she had been reading previously, she placed her hands on top of the books, one on each. (Y/N) closed her eyes, and tried to focus. “Mirror image.” She whispered as she felt her magic move beneath her hands. The headache that had been slowly growing bigger these past week, grew stronger with the new spell she casted.

When (Y/N) opened her eyes she let out a sigh of frustration. It almost looked like the spell had only taken half effect. The title of the spellbook had been transferred to the gardening book, but the flowery cover could still be seen underneath.

(Y/N) lifted her head to look at the ceiling as she took another deep breath, trying to soothe the headache, and focus on the shadows she was already controlling. Her image of professor Whiteshade, and covers of around fifteen books she was trying to keep up, while focusing on creating a new one. If she focused, she could feel the shadow connecting the books together, although weak as it was, it was there. (Y/N) tried to imagine Valtor standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders, placing a kiss on her lips as she had her head tilted backwards. And his words he had whispered to her long ago that fateful day; that she was strong, that she was capable of anything, as long as she remained by his side.

“I miss you.” (Y/N) confessed to the quiet library, with only the moonlight and the shadows as her company. It had been two weeks of no contact with either Valtor or the Trix. And after only a week with Valtor,before she had gone to Alfea, after being stuck in stone for seventeen years felt like a short time to be together again. But (Y/N) also knew that they would have all the time in the world together once Valtor and her conquer the magic dimension.

Thinking with their end goal in mind (Y/N) returned her attention back to her task at hand. “Mirror image.” She said again, and this time when she opened her eyes, she had two identical books. Or at least when you didn’t look too closely. Perhaps a tear wasn’t in the place it always was, and maybe the letter R was a different font but didn’t look out of place at first glance.

(Y/N) stood up and placed the duplicate copy back in the place it belonged, before grabbing the original and walking to a shadowed corner of the library, a place where the moonlight didn’t reach. (Y/N) squatted down and waved her hand, the shadows twisting underneath into a calm whirlpool of shadows. She imagined Cloud Tower, more specially Valtor’s desk, next to the scrying orb as she pushed the book into the shadows, and dropped it.

(Y/N) stood back up again, and went to turn around when she heard a small thunk, and something hitting her ankle. The shadows had gone quiet again, no longer moving as their mistress had no longer any use of them. But that wasn’t what caught (Y/N)’s attention, for she had expected them to be quiet. No, on the ground near her ankle she saw a small circle with something sticking out of it.

After picking it up, (Y/N) made her way towards the window. In the moonlight she saw she was holding onto a ring with a small note attached to it. Before (Y/N) studied the ring she opened up the note. It was a small letter, one that would sometimes have been tied to the foot of a bird. The only message on it was; As promised. Two days.

(Y/N) turned her attention towards the ring. It was a ring that was on the wider side. The first thing that caught her attention was how blue it was. When she looked closer she recognized the blue to be some type of coral, from andros more specifically. The whole inside of the ring was made of polished blue coral, the sides inlaid with gold to give it a more delicate effect. A smile came on (Y/N)’s face as she brought the ring to her chest and held it there for a moment.

Seventeen years ago Valtor had promised her all the jewelry her heart desired when they were rulers of the magic dimension. (Y/N) had mentioned how her sister had gotten a ring from Andros, which had used coral instead of diamonds, and how she had always wanted a ring like that. And how some corals from Andros were worth more than some of the most expensive diamonds. So that was why her sister only had one small part of her ring infused with the coral. In response Valtor had promised she would have the most beautiful ring of Andros one day, even prettier than her sisters.

(Y/N) remembered how Aisha hadn’t been in class today as there was another attack on Andros. Seemed like Valtor had remembered his promise. With a smile (Y/N) placed the ring around her, or rather professor Whiteshade’s, finger. She tore up the paper and threw it in the trash, making sure nobody would be able to read it, and even then it couldn’t be traced back to her. With renewed strength (Y/N) made her way out of the library, and towards her bedroom.

~~~

That had been two days ago. It was now Saturday, and everybody, teachers and students, were free to do as they pleased today. But (Y/N) had been on edge the whole day, just waiting for something to happen. She kept herself busy by making sure all her shadows were still where she needed them to be, and keeping her head ache to a minimum. But she did all that from the solitude of her bedroom. (Y/N) was in the habit of keeping her curtains almost closed, not a fan of the burning daylight.

Her attention was pulled when the small streak of light that came from the crack in between the curtains turned dark. Opening her curtains she could see storm clouds gathering above Alfea as it started to rain. If (Y/N) hadn’t suspected something was amiss, the fact that the magic barrier was going up was a definite sign.

Relief and excitement coursed through (Y/N)’s body. Relief that her stay in Alfea would finally be over, and excitement to know the future that will be waiting for them. (Y/N) stepped out of her room and ran into professor Palladium and professor Wizgiz who had also been residing in their chambers. The tree of them ran up towards one of the rooftops, knowing that Faragonda had gone there to activate the barrier. “Miss Faragonda!” Professor Palladium called out to her, gaining her attention.

“Brace yourself. The lighting is bewitched, and clearly the work of Valtor.” Faragonda warned them as she turned to look back in the sky. Up in the storm clouds the mark of Valtor had appeared, whenever the lighting struck it grew brighter. Faragonda turned her attention back to the professors at her side. “Keep your eyes open, be prepared,-” “Look, he’s using the witches from Cloud Tower.” Professor Wizgiz said, pointing towards the storm cloud. Professor Wizgiz was right. From the storm clouds, they’re hands outstretched came the lighting that had previously been in the clouds. The lighting struck the magical barrier, and with Valtor controlling them the magic of the witches was a lot stronger than they’d normally had, making the barrier fall apart.

Faragonda turned back around to face her colleagues. “Alright, get the girls. They’ll need our help, and we’ll need theirs.” Faragonda said with confidence before she was hit with lighting from behind. Luckily with everything going on it just seemed like professor Whiteshade stepped away from the blast to protect herself, and certainly not because she didn’t feel the need to catch the headmistress. (Y/N) had to give credit where credit was due, and Faragonda quickly got back up again. “Alright, you two,-” Faragonda looked in the direction of the professor's Palladium and Wizgiz. “Gather all the fairies and prepare for battle.” The two professors ran off as the barrier fully broke, and tiny glittering pieces fell down the sky.

Then Faragonda looked professor Whiteshade in the eyes. “Go to the library and don’t let any of the information get into the wrong hands.” (Y/N) turned to walk towards the library when she heard Faragonda call out her lover’s name, which made her stop in her tracks. Faragonda was way too focused on Valtor who came down from the sky to notice that she had stopped.

Valtor landed with two feet on the ground, arms folded together in front of his chest. “We meet again, Faragonda, it has been a while.” Valtor smiled as he tilted his head slightly sideways, almost as if he pitied the woman standing in front of him. “You’ve grown old.” He added chuckling. For the briefest of moments (Y/N) saw his eyes go over Faragonda’s shoulder in her direction, before returning towards the furious headmistress.

“You’ve bewitched the girls from Cloud Tower.” She accused before throwing a spell at him in her anger. Valtor managed to easily catch the spell with his hand, before throwing it back in Faragonda’s direction, which managed to hit her in the chest. Faragonda flew backwards towards the edge of the roof, hitting the brick wall. She landed close to (Y/N), who was now calmly inspecting the spectacle. Now that Faragonda could see that professor Whiteshade had remained standing, (Y/N) could see the clogs in her head turning. “I’ve always been known to be rather persuasive.” Valtor said, walking closer towards them as (Y/N) slowly started to make his way towards him. “No, no!” Faragonda muttered, almost shocked, as realization slowly started to dawn on her. “Or should I say, we are very persuasive.”

“I suppose we are.” (Y/N) chuckled, as she let herself drop the image of professor Whiteshade for a moment. With each blink of Faragonda’s eyes a different person was standing next to Valtor. One moment in her place stood the professor, then Griffin, and then King Radius , and with the next blink shadows circled around the woman standing next to Valtor, revealing the woman lying behind the shadows, beneath all the false faces she created. A smile on her lips that Faragonda knew all too well from many years ago, then the professor was back in place but the smile still remained. “Well, as fun as this little reunion is, I was under strict orders to make sure the information in the library would not fall under the wrong hands.” (Y/N) told Valtor, who matched the smile on her face.

“Well then, you better get going. Faragonda and I have a lot of catching up to do anyway.”

#imagine #imagine valtor #valtor x reader #winx club valtor #valtor imagine #winx valtor #winx baltor #baltor #winx club #canon divergence

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