#she's not Thrilled. she doesn't like her but. she doesn't hiss at her very much

[knifegremliin]

she's going to stay. i haven't officially told my mom that i've decided yet but. she's staying.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Mine, Always and Forever ~ Ramsay Bolton x Stark!Reader

Small disclaimer: It's Ramsay we're talking about; The story will have heavy dark themes and scenes that might make you uncomfortable.

Summary: Ramsay's obsession has always been Lady Y/N Stark, since the very moment they were children, and up into their adulthood. Everything he does, he does for her. He would burn the whole world to see her in his arms again, desperately needing him again. Ramsay Snow was going to trample over every noble house known to Westeros, just to gain the right to claim the little she-wolf that encaptured him in her spell.

Y/N was looking down at Sandor Clegane, wearing a conflicted yet highly determined look on her face; He, however, was smirking, he was amused to the point of barking a laugh in her face. His large hands kept a strong grip on her hips to keep her comfortably on his lap.

"Anyone told you you're one crazy lady, little fox?" the disfigured man teased the red haired Stark lady; Her long nails were digging harshly into his shoulders.

"Yes." she said deadpan. "Let them say whatever. As long as I get out of here, I don't care."

"You want me to risk my neck, to get you out of King's Landing. That's bold, even for you." his fingers dug painfully into her flesh. "And you think giving me your maidenhood's gonna sweeten me into losing my life, is that it?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Sandor. I'm only here because you're the only trust-worthy person in this pit of vipers." she hissed at him. "My maidenhood is not yours to take, nor am I giving it away to anyone except the man I've been in love with since I was eleven winters old."

"Sentimentalism won't get you anywhere, girl." he scoffed, finally pushing you off him to tumble on the hard ground. "And neither will you fleeing. Everything is surveilled by the Lions."

"Robb is at the Twins. If I get there, I can return home to Winterfell. I am the oldest - Someone must take care of our home." Y/N got up, her long red hair a beautiful mess all around her. "Sandor, I need you. Please. What do you need me to do? Beg you? I will beg you, if that's what you want."

"Tell me who's that poor bastard." Y/N looked at him confused, but dragged a chair by the bed and sat down.

"Roose Bolton's bastard, Ramsay Snow." her voice was serene and casual. "You know, that crazy guy who gets off on flaying living people."

"I'm beginning to think someone slammed your head against a wall. Girl, you're deranged." she shrugged her shoulders, as if to say she doesn't care much. "Does anyone know about him?"

"My dad used to know I had a thing for Ramsay - Obviously, we didn't speak much about it. If mother found out I was head over heels over a lowly bastard from a disgusting family like the Boltons... Well, I wouldn't hear the end of it." she laughed dryly. "Mother would be very disappointed to know that all of her girls have terrible taste in men - Take Sansa for example, falling for an old dog like you... And, to be fair, I don't think Arya even has a taste for men at all, if you catch my drift."

"The little bird won't sing me sweet thrills." he huffed under his breath. "Convince me, and I'll think about helping you get out of your cage."

"Let's see... It all began many years ago, when I had just passed my eleventh year alive, and my father took me to the Dreadfort for business with Roose Bolton..."

The Stark party arrived on horse-back after many hours of uncomfortable riding through the snow and cold; Eddard was afraid his little girl would get ill - Cat had told him many times not to take her - But he couldn't refuse Y/N's pleading. She was eleven years of age, and behaving very much like how Lyanna used to. Y/N might favour her Tully side, with scarlet hair shining like red copper in the Sun, and light eyes that peered deep into your soul - But at heart, she was a valiant and loyal Wolf.

The forest hiding the Dreadfort was thick, yet beautiful, though in no way could it compare to the woods around Winterfell. It was a warm Spring afternoon, with the flowers in bloom; the sky was blue and embellished with a few lazy clouds, and the breeze was gently rustling through Y/N's long scarlet locks.

Lord Bolton was awaiting the Stark retinue; He took Ned aside to guide him into his council room to speak business; The servants were guided into the Fort to be houses; And Y/N remained trugging behind, looking around and exploring with the curiosity of a little fox.

It was then that she spotted that brunet runt with eyes like crystal icicles; He was staring intently at her from behind a tree. Y/N knew who that was - Ramsay Snow, the bastard of Roose Bolton. Her dad mentioned him, and told her to be nice to him. Of course she was gonna be nice to him - She loves Jon and treats him just like her younger brother, because that's what he is!

With a bow and quiver attached to her back, Y/N stepped towards the boy, extending her hand towards him. "You are Ramsay Snow, aren't you?" the boy looked at her, soulless, but grumbled affirmatively. "I'm Y/N. Want to come help me out with my archery?" he looked at her as if she was crazy; Y/N let out an impatient sigh, and turned on her heel. "You know the woods better than I do - I am sure you will find me once you remember how to move your feet. Left foot, right foot, and repeat."

She thus wandered into the forest, looking for a place to practice her archery; It didn't take long before she heard the noise of rapid footsteps approaching. Ramsay stood right behind her, his demeanour guarded, cold and wary - Typical for that of a mistreated bastard.

"See? I told you you'd find me easily." she let out a soft chuckle, turning her back to him and fidgeting with her bow.

The boy didn't answer immediately, unsure of how to respond to the noble girl. He’d been taught to keep his distance from highborns, especially someone like her, the daughter of the Warden of the North... But there’s something different about her, something that doesn’t seem to care about the invisible lines that separate them, about ranks or blood.

"How did you know who I am?" he asked in a low voice.

"What, Bolton's bastard son?" Ramsay flinched slightly at the word, but Katrina’s tone is curious rather than cruel. She steps closer, studying him with those sharp, Stark eyes. He nods, unsure of what to expect from her. "Dad told me to be as nice to you as I am with my own bastard younger brother. Jon is a delight to have around, truly - Too bad mother can't see that." she shrugged her shoulders lazily. "You don't talk much, do you?"

"I don't know how to speak to noble ladies... My Lady." he admitted begrudgingly. "Nobles aren't supposed to see a bastard like me."

"Well, you can start by calling me by my name - Y/N - And then, you can continue by coming with me and helping me out with my archery." she grinned, and before Ramsay could react, she grabbed his wrist and tugged him along, her energy infectious. Ramsay stumbled slightly, caught off guard by her boldness, but he didn’t resist. For once, he didn't protest to being dragged around - He enjoyed the physical touch from her.

"Where are you taking me?" the boy found himself speaking a little louder.

"Deeper into the forest! I need someone to help me practice. I can't hit anything if I don't have someone to fetch the arrows."

Ramsay blinked, bewildered by how casually she dismissed the divide between them. He’d never been treated like this before — Like he’s just another boy, not the bastard son of Roose Bolton. And yet, there’s something exciting about the way she was pulling him along, like he was a part of her adventure rather than an outsider.

They reached a small clearing in the woods. Katrina lets go of his wrist and unslinged her bow, not wasting any time. She lines up an arrow, but her aim is slightly off. The arrow flies past the tree trunk she was aiming at and disappears into the underbrush.

"Damn it!" Y/N stomped her foot impatiently. "This is all Robb's fault! If he hadn't told on me, I would have been able to train with Theon!" she whined so cutely, the bastard thought with amusement, watching her look around aimlessly for that arrow. "Great, it's lost. Only four left I guess." she grumbled to herself with resentment.

Ramsay hesitated for a moment, before rushing toward the underbrush. He found the arrow easily enough and returned it to her, watching as her eyes widened in awe.

"You found it - And so easily! How cool!" no one had ever praised him before - It felt really good. "You know how to shoot?" he nodded his head. "Can you teach me?"

The boy stepped to her side, raising her arms up and placing her in position. Without even realising, his hands lingered on her body; He was enjoying touching her so much, and she wasn't protesting, too focused on holding the bow and arrow properly with those small, delicate hands of hers. She was so very cute, he thought to himself, as he positioned himself in a way that almost engulfed her whole.

"You’re holding it wrong." he muttered into her ear. "Follow the trajectory of my finger - Focus on the target and hold the tip of the arrow a little above the spot you want to hit. Draw the string with an inhale, and release with an exhale." he then fixed the angle of her drawing arm. "Boys won't tell you this, but girls have this small curvature of the arm - To aim properly, you'd have to arch your arm like this... And it will improve your accuracy." he then kicked a little at her feet, getting them in position. "Posture is half the work; Stand straight... And release."

With all points ticked, Y/N released the arrow, and lodged itself close to where it was supposed to reach; It hit the tree trunk, which was all that mattered for a beginner. "Wow! Robb will be so jealous when I beat him at archery next time!" her voice went up cutely as she chirped with excitement, almost bouncing on the spot with glee. "Thank you, Ramsay, thank you!" huh... She thanked him. What a peculiar girl.

"Don't thank me until you win." he teased her. "Try again - Without my help this time." that comment stopped her in her little joy party. Right, Ramsay won't be there to help her. Damn.

Regaining posture, Y/N drew the bowstring back, feeling the difference in her stance. She released the arrow, and this time it hit the tree trunk with a satisfying thud. She did that, all by herself! She grinned, turning to Ramsay with a look of triumph and victory.

"Was that cool?!" was she asking for validation - From him?!

"Yes, My Lady, you did well." she didn't seem to notice the way he called her; She was far too absorbed into her success and practice.

Ramsay smiled for the first time in his life; a small, hesitant smile that Y/N almost missed - But she caught it, and something about that moment made her feel like she’d cracked through a layer of ice.

For once, the boy felt at ease around another human being, even if that person was an eleven year old brazen noble lady who tried to best her younger brothers at silly things like archery and swordsmanship. Wasn't she supposed to learn embroidery and other girly things? Well, now that he thought it over, Ramsay was sure most noble Lords wouldn't take their daughters with them on delegations; They'd take their sons, right? It only meant Lord Stark loved his daughter very much, he noted. Not that he'd know what that was - Surely, the little haughty thing was going to forget all about him.

As the sun began to set, Ramsay realised he had to escort the young lady back, before either her father worries, or his father thinks he murdered her. That bloody monster - He hated his father more than he hated anyone alive. He was going to get the most miserable death there is.

For dinner, however, Ramsay wasn't allowed to sit at the table with the nobles; Y/N's mother also didn't want Jon to sit with the rest of the children... So in that regard, she could understand the miserable, spiteful look on Ramsay's face. It was Y/N and Robb who begged their dad to allow Jon and Theon to eat with them... But Y/N was afraid of Roose Bolton and his terrifying icy glare - He was empty, and ruthless, just like a harsh blizzard.

In a way, Y/N was glad they'll only be staying one more night in this awful place... But she would dearly miss her new friend. She wonders if she'll ever see him again - Hopefully, yes!

The night settled swiftly over the cold stone halls of the Dreadfort - The place was deathly silent, save for the scary howling wind and the occasional flicker of torchlight casting long, terrifying shadows all around.

Ramsay was lying on the bed, half-asleep, and thinking over the events of the day - His mind was obsessively settled on the young noble lady who treated him so well, who smiled so sweetly at him... Who felt so good in his arms. He loved how she dragged him all around, and grinned so enthusiastically; How she thanked him for helping her with archery... In his perverse mind, he wanted to bury his hands in that gorgeous mess of long red hair and pull her into his arms, never to let go ever again; He wanted to squish her in his arms until she explode, that's how cute she was; He wanted to slam his lips against hers and kiss her until she had no more air in her lungs, and her body was bruised and imprinted with his hands all over.

Not once did he expect to hear the heavy door of his sparsely furnished cold room creaking open, revealing the very girl he was fantasising over, wearing a thick nightgown and holding tightly a fur-lined cloaked draped over her small shoulders; Her wild hair was even more tousled than before.

The air is cold, a reminder of the unforgiving northern weather. Ramsay’s small, sparsely furnished room is dimly lit by a single candle on the bedside table. She waited for a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, before walking in - The boy, already on edge, bolted right up, startled by the sudden intrusion. His first thought was that an assassin was trying to get him, or his father wanted to beat him half to death -

But no. It was the object of his obsessions. Y/N stepped forward, letting the dim light of the fireplace reveal her nervous face. The boy's stiffness melted away, and he leaned forward to look at her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice as cold as that of his father.

Y/N offered a small, sheepish smile, pulling the cloak tighter around her shoulders as she moved closer to his bed. "I don't like sleeping alone. It's cold and scary here." she said, moving her bare feet closer to the bed. "Can I sleep in your room... Please?"

Ramsay blinked in shock, still processing her presence. It was not every day that a noble’s daughter sneaked into his room in the middle of the night, asking to spend the night. He shifted, making space on the bed as Y/N climbed on... The sheep walked right into the wolf's den.

"I thought noble ladies weren't allowed alone in a room with a boy - A lowly bastard, no less. Who knows what I'll do to you." she looked at him all confused and innocent - Of course she had no idea what he was talking about; No one tells noble ladies what men want to do to them... How they want to ravage them...

"No one has to know I am here." she smiled sweetly. "Besides - I had something for you." all of his wicked thoughts dispersed on the spot, thinking what it could be that she brought - For him! He felt a weird warmth spread through his chest - And much below also; He watched attentively as Y/N revealed a small tray filled with desserts from inside her cloak - All the sweet desserts a bastard son like him wasn't allowed to eat, from the dinner he wasn't allowed to attend.

"I am sorry... Your father scared me too much... I was too much of a coward to ask him to let you dine with us." she said in a tender, guilty voice, placing the plate on the bed for him to try out the cakes. "At home, mother doesn't want to see Jon and Theon, our ward, eat with us... So I and Robb begged dad to let them eat with us, and he agreed." she messed up her already rousled hair. "Forgive me."

Ramsay looked deep into her eyes, making her look away with a blush; She didn't seem to like holding eye-contact, he realised; He was intimidating her with his usually cold and empty expression - Just like his father. She was afraid of his father - And rightfully so; But he didn't want her to be afraid of him too; He wanted Lady Y/N to like him, to love him, to want him and only him.

"It's a man's job to protect his woman, Y/N, not the other way around." he let out a small, sardonic chuckle. "I can't blame you for being scared of my Lord Father. I know he can look rather... Intimidating."

"But... It's not right... And regardless of the circumstances of your birth, you should not be treated any less. You deserve better than this." Ramsay's body grew ever hotter the more she spoke, and were it not for his self-control, who knows what he would have done to this little fox girl. She was far too cute for her own good... Far too nice... And nice girls always end up the worst, because of monsters like him.

But it was fine. He was a monster, but he would protect her. His mind was settled - Y/N was his, and only his.

"Are you not cold?" she asked all of a sudden; He had forgotten he was wearing no shirt, and his body was in full view. She was worried about him, how cute of her.

"I am a man of the North, Y/N. This is how I sleep every night." he let himself fall back on the bed, casually eating some of those little cakes. "You're just cold because you're a girl, and you're all frail and mellow. You need a man's heat to keep you warm through the night." he ended with a cocky smirk addressed her way.

"Is that so?" she hummed softly. "Prove to me that you are right, then." how cheeky she was, Ramsay thought to himself, watching with shock as the little vixen laid herself so carefree in his arms; Her hand was placed comfortably on his shoulder, and she nestled herself on his side. "Keep me warm."

"What a playful little minx." he scoffed, watching her so cutely clinging to his body. He reveled in the silence broken only by him enjoying the cakes she brought over, and soon enough, in her rhythmic slow breathing - She had fallen asleep so easily, he was truly mesmerised. She was so cute and little compared to him, he realised once again.

As the candle flickered and the night deepened, Ramsay stood awake for a little while longer, his mind racing with wild thoughts and feeling he's never experienced before. Eventually, however, the warmth of her presence lulled him into a deep, dreamless sleep, yet holding a small smile of triumph on his face.

The very next day, early in the morning, Lady Y/N sneaked out of Ramsay's room and went back into her own so no one would suspect a thing. She received breakfast in bed and her maid helped her dressed and get ready for another exciting day spent with Ramsay.

This time, the bastard thought he'd show off - He brought her to the kennels to his the hounds. It was his idea to raise dogs to hunt and guard the place and what not; The kennel master was a middle-aged man full of experience... But his daughter was an annoying little girl around his age. She wanted to appear strong and rough around him... To show off. Why, he couldn't quite understand - He was pretty sure girls this age weren't so interested in boys and their bodies - Unlike boys wanting desperately to see girls naked.

Lady Y/N was cheeky, yes, but she was gracious also; Myranda, on the other hand, was a disgrace... A disgrace that Ramsay loved to humiliate. Unfortunately for him, it seemed that she also enjoyed that kind of treatment in a rather profound way.

The kennels were dark and chilly, filled with low rumbles and growls, and the smell of straw and wet dog fur. The light filtered through narrow, creaked windows... Y/N didn't think it was a nice place for dogs to stay at, but at least they were protected from the snow, wind and cold outside.

Much to Ramsay's dismay, Myranda was there, tending to the dogs and snapping at them every once in a while; She wasn't stern - She was harsh and cruel; The exact opposite of Lady Stark, who had a natural affinity for animals, and the gift of warmth and compassion to all living beings.

With a protective arm holding Y/N firm into his chest, he showed off his dogs; Most of them were females, large, with long fur, and highly aggressive. "What do you think about my bitches, Y/N? They make the best hunters, not the mutts." he spoke cockily. "And they know to obey only their master."

Y/N's visage was tender and soft; With no fear, she approached one of the dogs who had just given birth, and her puppies were sucking at her teats. She knelt by her side; The dog's menacing growls all but dissipated once she sniffed the lady's hand, allowing her to pet her head.

"What a gorgeous mommy you are, darling! Oh, but you must be cold - Your little ones too!" Y/N took off her cloak, draping her mother dog nicely in it. "There - Isn't it better? Nice and toasty!"

Ramsay watched the interaction with a mix of shock and fascination - He was so used to commanding the dogs through fear and dominance, that he hadn't expected the dogs to listen so quickly to a gentle word. Was it the Wolf's blood coursing through her veins that made her a canine whisperer? Or was it simply that sweet voice of her that bewitched even him? "I’ve never seen them act like that. They usually tear anyone apart who gets too close."

Y/N smiled sweetly, scratching the dog behind her ears, completely at ease. "They’re just like people, but trust-worthy and reliable. If you show them kindness, they’ll return it. They’re not so different from us, really."

Before Ramsay can respond, a harsh voice cut through the air. Myranda, holding a leash, stood at the other end of the kennel, glaring at Y/n with undisguised jealousy. She tugged on the leash, yanking a dog that was already straining against her rough grip. "They’re not pets, they’re beasts. You can’t trust them with soft words, or they’ll turn on you. That one already bit me once."

The dog on the leash cowered, her tail between her legs as Myranda yanked it towards her. Y/N frowned, rising to her feet. The bastard didn't think even a small, little girl like her could hold such an undeniable presence and imposing aura. "Maybe if you weren’t so harsh, they wouldn’t bite. They’re only reacting to how you treat them."

Myranda’s face flushed with anger, her grip tightening on the leash. She sneered at Y/N, her eyes dark with resentment and spite. "What would you know about it? You’re just a spoiled little brat who doesn’t understand anything about the real world." How dare that obnoxious slut speak like that to his darling little fox? She was his - His only - And no one was allowed to treat her like this. Ramsay, sensing the tension, steps forward. His expression shifts, a cold smirk curling his lips as he looked at Myranda, enjoying the sudden shift in her demeanour; Immediately meek and pathetic. It was time to put her back in her place.

"Watch your tongue, Myranda. What's the filthy peasant daughter of the kennel master, compared to the Wolf Lady herself?" he hissed at the girl who immediately went quiet; She flinched at his harsh tone, her eyes were wide and hurt. She was used to his cruel streak, but it still stung in the sweetest way... But to be scolded like that in front of that little whore...

"I... I didn’t mean anything by it, Ramsay. I just—" she was at a loss for words; Her mind was empty as always, the boy remarked spitefully.

"Didn't mean anything, you say - Any other noble would have your tongue for speaking ill of Lady Y/N Stark; You should fall on your knees and seek forgiveness. She is graceful, don't you think? If it were me, well... We both know what I like to do with disobedient cunts like you, don't you, Myranda?" his gargoyle eyes stared emptily into her own tearful eyes; Somewhere lower, she noticed the subtle way the bastard showed off a small knife that she knew very well was used to flay. She gulped, hanging her head low, and trembling pathetically. "I'm waiting, Myranda - Where is that apology?"

As Myranda bit her lip, holding back the tears of her weakness, Y/N sighed, walking in front of her; Though Y/N was smaller than her, she still placed her hand gently on her hand. "It's fine - She's not wrong. I couldn't possibly be knowledgeable in dogs than someone who was raised in the arts of dog-raising. The only difference is the approach - I have a different approach in caring for my animals, and it has proven far more reliable than ruling with an iron fist." her voice was soft and tender. "Raise your head. No need to ask for forgiveness. Just make sure they are all well taken care of." with a graceful twirl, Y/N turned to her friend and hooked her arm to his, guiding him out into the forest.

"If I was in her place, I'd have shot you when you turned your back at me." he grumbled harshly under his breath.

"She wouldn't have dared, and neither would you - Not for as long as I am Lady Stark, and mine own Lord Father is here, on the very premises... Not unless you want to meet a fate worse than death." oh, that wicked smirk of her, so different than anything sweet and tender she embodied thus far; The twisted grin of a rabid fox, not the sweet smile of a flower.

"What would you know, the little flower knows how to play to her political strength. How adorable." he huffed, pulling her into his side harshly. "Politics aside, you are still just a frail little thing that can break so easily... It would be a pity if anyone did anything to hurt you..."

"So what, you are saying you want to protect me?" she scoffed at him; Though her question was genuine, and his answer even more so.

"Yes." once they were deep into the forest, he held her in a painfully tight embrace, his face buried in the crook of her neck; She smelled sweet, like honey and flowers... It only made him want to taste her even more. "Always, and forever."

Just like the previous night, Y/N had snuck out of her room again, her small feet padding silently across the cold stone floor. The Dreadfort, with its bleak atmosphere, had never bothered her, not with Ramsay nearby. Tonight, though, was different. It was her last night here, and the thought of leaving him behind made her heart ache in a way she couldn’t quite understand. Ramsay was her friend, and though the Dreadfort wasn't too far away from Winterfell, it was unbecoming of a young Lady to go out of her way to visit a bastard... She wouldn't be allowed to.

She slipped into Ramsay’s room, finding him lying on his bed, shirtless, his dark eyes gleaming as he watched her approach, just like a predator seeing delicious prey walk willingly inside his lair.

“You’re not supposed to be here, little fox.” he drawled, the nickname slipping from his lips with ease.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though a small pout formed on her lips as she climbed in bed next to him. “I don’t care. It’s too cold in my room, and I don’t want to be alone.”

Ramsay smirked, propping himself up on one elbow. He was shirtless again. “Afraid of the dark, are we?” His tone was teasing, but his eyes held an intensity that belied his playful words.

She stuck her tongue out at him but nodded nonetheless, crossing her arms over her chest. "I am used to sleeping with my siblings."

"Fine, fine, little rose, I won't tease you about it - After all, you've come to seek my protection; How can I tease a lovely little lady such as yourself." she blushed softly at her new nickname, looking away but said nothing. “You know, sweetling..." Ramsay began, his voice dripping with mischief. “Did you know there are things that boys and girls do together when they’re older. Things you wouldn’t even imagine.” he leaned closer to her body, his bare chest against her back; His hand found itself playing with a velvety lock of red hair - It was quite addicting. SHE was addicting.

Y/N turned her head a little to look at him, her brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean, Ramsay?”

His grin widened, enjoying the way her innocent mind struggled to grasp the meaning behind his words... His intentions. “Oh, nothing you’d understand now...” he said, his tone teasing. “But one day, when you’re older… I could teach you.”

Y/N tilted her head, still perplexed. “Teach me what?”

Ramsay leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “What boys and girls do together when they’re alone. It’s something… Special.”

She blinked at him, her confusion deepening. “Like playing games?”

He chuckled, a dark sound that made her shiver despite the warmth of his presence. "I suppose... A game only for grown-ups.”

Katrina pouted, feeling as though he was making fun of her. “I’m not that young, Ramsay. Mother said I am old enough to flower soon - That makes me an adult in the eyes of the noble families.”

He reached out, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear, his touch lingering a little too long. “And when that time comes, sweetling, I’ll make sure you know everything.”

The thought of Y/N flowering soon... The thought of making her his own... It made his body all hot and greedy. Some day, when she becomes a woman, he wanted to be the one to claim her; Her one and only; The only man she ever looks at. But he was a bastard, and she was the eldest daughter of the Stark Family... How the hell could he make her his, forever?

It was a maddening thought... That his bastard label would keep him away from her. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. There was no way any man would be capable of taking care of her the way only HE could. No one could make her as happy as he can. No one can understand her the way he does.

She stared at him, unsure of what to say. There was something in his tone, something she didn’t quite understand, but it made her feel uneasy... But also, enticed. Curious. Addicted. Still, she trusted him. He was her friend, after all... And will forever be her friend... Whether he wants to or not. What Lady Y/N Stark wanted, she got, even if she had to force the hands of fate to achieve her goals.

Ramsay, noticing the uncertainty in her eyes, decided to push her just a little further. “You should just enjoy being a little girl, for now, all innocent and pure like a dove. Don’t worry about what happens when you’re older.” he hummed, his low, husky voice, whispering in her ear, making her shudder and blush. "I'll take care of everything."

Katrina huffed, turning her face away from him. “You’re always saying things I don’t understand.”

He laughed softly, the sound sending a strange thrill through him. He sneaked his arms around her body, pulling her into his chest; One hand was holding strongly onto her small body, while the other held her jaw, firm but gentle. “Noble men don't know horseshite about these things - They're all stupid, but have the pride of lions and cockiness like no other. They think they know the game well, but they are shamefully bad... And without an experienced man to teach them, you, noble ladies, are all cute and confused, losing the game...” ah, tsk tsk, bad Ramsay, he was talking too much when he shouldn't... Not now.

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance. “You’re just trying to confuse me.” she huffed, quite like a brat, getting out of his clutches and drawing the blanket over her.

Ramsay watched her for a moment, his smirk fading as he realized she was serious about ignoring him. She couldn't ignore her. She wasn't allowed to. She was supposed to look at him with those beautiful eyes of hers - To look at him, and only him.

The silence stretched on, and something dark and possessive flared up inside him. He hated being ignored, especially by her. Desperate for her attention, he threw the blanket off of her, pinning her down on the bed before she could react. He straddled her waist, his hands holding her wrists above her head as he loomed over her.

Y/N gasped in surprise, her wide eyes locking with his - Finally, she was looking at him. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them charged with something neither could name.

Ramsay’s smirk returned - He enjoyed looking down at her like that, her face all innocent and confused, so damn precious. "Ramsay...?" don't talk to him in that sweet voice... Don't... He'll lose control... He will...

To stop his own wicked thoughts and urges, he started tickling her sides mercilessly. Y/N squealed, her laughter filling the room as she squirmed beneath him, trying in vain to escape his grasp. This wasn't any better, he noted; It only made him more desperate to touch her, to hold her... To...

“Ramsay, stop!” she begged, her voice breathless with laughter - He only tickled her harder, delighting in her helplessness. There was something so special about ignoring such lovely pleas.

In her desperate attempts to defend herself, Y/N’s nails raked across his arm, deep enough to draw blood. Ramsay hissed at the sharp sting, letting out a surprising sound of pleasure... Surprising even for him... but he didn’t stop tickling her until she was breathless and teary-eyed from laughing and her body aching for freedom and mercy.

Finally, he relented, looking down at her with a mixture of amusement and something darker... Victory, triumph... Y/N panted, her chest heaving as she caught her breath - Yet her eyes widened when she saw the red lines on his arm, painting his pale arm a lovely shade of crimson red.

“Ramsay...! I’m sorry - I'm so sorry, I didn’t mean to!” she shot up, her voice small as she reached out to touch the scratch she had left.

Ramsay caught her hand, his grip firm but not painful. He looked at the blood, then at her, a strange expression on his face. “It’s nothing.” he said, though the intensity in his gaze made her heart flutter with unease. “Just a mark... A precious little reminder.”

“A reminder? Of what?” she asked, confused, watching him lick the blood leaking down his skin.

His smirk returned, though there was something almost possessive in his eyes. “That you, little Kitten, are all mine, and only mine; Even when you leave, you’ll still be mine." he wiped some of the blood his his thumb, and unexpectedly, he pressed it gently against her bottom lip - Pink turning red - Then a little inside, touching her tongue. "You want us to be together, don't you, My Lady?" he got closer to her face, now both hands cupping her small face carefully. "Always and forever."

"Yes... I want us to be friends... Forever." he wanted to kiss those plump dewy lips so bad, but he couldn't; Not not. She was driving him crazy... A twisted child with nefarious cravings and desires... And all his obsessions channeled into a single being... A precious little kitten who loves to scratch him. "Always and forever." he kissed her forehead gently, almost as if he was sealing an unspoken vow between them.

The bastard of Dreadfort wasn't happy to see his cute little kitten leave; But he couldn't do anything about it - Not yet. He lingered in the back, far away, and watched as her horse disappeared into the horizon. He knew it was going to be an awful day for him. He just knew.

The atmosphere was terrible all around the fort, heavy with the chill of winter and the unspoken tension that has settled over the castle. Ramsay remained in his small room, reflecting on the recent visit, the fleeting moments of warmth with Lady Y/N still fresh in his mind.

Every time his mind lingered back on their closeness, his body grew all hot and restless; He felt himself going crazy, needing to touch himself to relieve the pressure building inside his stomach; His core was all knots and ache.

He couldn't though... He couldn't... He had to hold on... It wasn't night yet, and he risked anyone barging inside his room... But he needed her so badly... Her scorching touch on his ice-cold skin... Those sweet, soft rose petal lips on his rough, chapped ones... Her small body, all cute and frail under his own... At his mercy...

His rapid thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching his room. His heart quickened even more, a sense of dread creeping in. He knew what was going to happen, and he dreaded every second of it.

The door opened, and Roose Bolton stepped inside, his expression as unreadable as ever... But Ramsay knew better than to trust the calm before the storm.

"Do you have anything you wish to tell me, Ramsay?" those harsh eyes bore silently into him, carving his heart out.

"No... Father." he muttered under his breath, getting off the bed and standing in front of his father, his head hung, but jaw clenched in anger and humiliation.

"Is that so?" the boy remained quiet. "I’ve heard... Things, Ramsay. Things I don’t like."

Ramsay tensed, his eyes meeting his father’s cold, manipulative gaze. He knew what was coming, and though he’s experienced his father’s wrath before, the dread never really faded. He tried to stand taller, to show no weakness, but the apprehension was clear in his voice.

"Lady Y/N wanted to talk to me. She was bored with no child her age around, so she dragged me to be her companion. I couldn't refuse the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark..." he couldn't refuse her even if he wanted to; He was desperate for her attention, after all. It was only by luck that he captured her attention so easily - And by fate, he will continue aligning with her, no matter what obstacles jump in his way.

Roose’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. He stepped closer, his presence looming over the subject of his deepest disappointments and shame, who instinctively took a step back. "In case you've forgotten - You’re a lowly bastard, Ramsay. You might be my son by blood, but you will never be a Bolton in the eyes of the world." he spat at his son who flinched habitually. "Your place is not with the likes of her. You forget yourself too easily. We are lucky Lord Stark didn't have your head for tainting his precious daughter's air."

The words cut deep into his heart, a reminder of the bitter truth Ramsay always tried to ignore... But this time, they stung more than usual, because for a moment, Y/N made him believe he could be something more.

"Lady Y/N said Lord Stark agreed to allow the bastard and the ward to dine at the same table as his legitimate children. They treat them like their own flesh and blood..." the words slipped out before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted his impertinence. Roose’s expression darkened further, his patience wearing thin.

"You fool - How dare you fall in love with a noblewoman?! You think Lord Stark would ever allow his eldest daughter to marry some filthy low-life like you and take his riches? His noble name? Have you lost your mind, child? This is not how I raised you." his voice boomed painfully through the echoing empty stone walls of his room. "Love and foolishness are weakness, Ramsay, and I will not tolerate either in my son."

Before Ramsay could react, Roose’s hand struck him, delivering a sharp backhand across Ramsay’s face - The force of the blow sent him stumbling, crashing into the bedside table, the candle tumbling to the floor. Pain spread across his cheek, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation that followed as Roose grabbed him by the neck, dragging him back to his feet.

"You are my son, Ramsay, and you will do as I say. I will not have you ruin yourself over foolish maiden dreams of love and marriage . You are a tool, nothing more - And I will carve you into something useful, no matter how much you resist." Ramsay tried to fight back, to push against his father’s grip, but he was no match for Roose’s strength and iron grip.

The beating that followed was brutal, each strike a lesson in obedience, in submission, a reminder of the cruelty that defines his existence. He tried not to cry out, to show no weakness - And he did just that. Ramsay utter no sound through it all.

When Roose finally released him, Ramsay crumpled to the floor, gasping for air, his body battered and bruised. Roose looked down at him, his expression harsh and unforgiving.

"Remember this, Ramsay - You are nothing but my bastard son, and you will learn your place, or I will teach it to you until you understand."

Roose left the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Ramsay was left alone, the echoes of his father’s words ringing in his ears, the pain throbbing through his body. He remained there, motionless on the ground and growling like a rabid animal.

Hours passed before Ramsay finally moved, dragging himself back onto the bed, wincing with every motion. He stares at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of emotions — Anger, shame, dread.

He thought of Y/N, of her kindness, of the way she treated him like he was worth something. That memory was a lifeline, something to hold onto in the darkness, but it was also a source of pain, a reminder of what he can never have...

He clenched his fists, the pain in his body overshadowed by the rage building inside him. He hated his father, hated the world that condemned him to this life, hated the fact that he was born a bastard - But most of all, he hated that he cared — That he yearned for something more, something better.

"I will make them pay." the words were whispered into the darkness, a promise to himself. "I will kill them all." he punched the ground with his fist until it became a bloody mess - Yet he felt no pain at all, only wrath.

He knew he couldn't change the circumstances of his birth, but he could at least take control of his life. He could become what his father wanted — A lethal weapon - But he will do so on his terms; And one day, when he has the power to make sure no one ever hurts him again, he will walk forward to force all of his wishes to come true...

Even if that meant kidnapping Lady Y/N Stark and marrying her in secret.

Three years down the line, Y/N was now 14 years of age, and putting her brothers to shame when it came to archery and hunting; Thus, they all agreed they would have a hunting competition, to which, albeit reticently, their father agreed.

Three whole days spent in the Wolfswood; The one who brings the most game wins the contest - Thus, Theon, Y/N, Robb and Jon rode confidently into the forest.

The Wolfswood was a dense, ancient forest stretching between Winterfell and the Dreadfort - She felt so close, yet so far from her best friend; Alas, she couldn't afford to think of him. She had to win. The woods were thick, the towering trees created a canopy that blocked out much of the sky, leaving only slivers of light to pierce the darkness. The forest was eerily quiet, save for the rustling of leaves and distant cries of creatures every now and again.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale light over the clearing where Y/N had set up her camp. She’d done well so far, managing to bring down two deer, a boar and a few smaller game, which were now tied securely to a tree. Her brothers were likely doing just as well, but she was determined to win. She had to. If she won, she would forever get rid of her brothers' teasing, or them telling her to return to embroidering. How bothersome.

After finishing her meal, she moved cautiously around the perimeter of her camp, checking the traps she’d set earlier; They were simple, designed more to alert her to danger than to catch anything significant. As she returned to the fire, she couldn't help but shiver slightly. It wasn't the cold that bothered her, but the darkness pressing in around her.

Taking a deep breath and calming her nerves, she settled down by a large tree, its sturdy trunk at her back. The fire crackled, offering some comfort, but the night was still intimidating. She tried to focus on her goal — Winning the competition, proving she was just as capable as her brothers - But the fear of being alone in the dark was still there, lurking at the edges of her mind.

Just as she began to relax, the snap of a trap echoed through the clearing, followed by a loud, furious string of curses. Y/N’s heart leaped into her throat, and she instinctively grabbed her bow, an arrow quickly nocked. Her eyes darted around the shadows until she spotted the source of the commotion.

Hanging upside down by his leg, thrashing and cursing loudly, was Ramsay Snow.

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock, her grip on the bow loosening as she lowered the weapon. “Ramsay?!” she muttered, barely believing her eyes.

Ramsay twisted around, his face a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Who else would be stupid enough to get caught in one of your traps, Kitten?”

Finally getting over her shock, Y/N dropped her bow and rushed over, pulling out her knife to cut the rope. Ramsay landed with a thud, groaning as he rubbed his ankle. She knelt beside him, worry etched on her face.

“Are you alright?!” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Ramsay looked up at her, a mischievous grin spreading across his face despite the pain. “I’ve had worse - But really, trapping people now? I didn’t know you’d gotten so ruthless.”

She blushed, embarrassed that she’d caught him of all people. “It wasn’t meant for you! I just didn’t want anything sneaking up on me.”

Ramsay chuckled, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. “And you did a fine job of that." he stepped towards her, and lazily rested his arms on her shoulders, leaning on her body to the point of making her stumble over her feet from his weight. "You could have just asked for help instead of trying to do all this alone.”

Y/N looked at him, his face so close to her own that she could feel her breath. "I genuinely didn't think I would meet you again - Not like this, at least." her voice was so tender and soft; Oh, how he missed her voice.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her. "Yes, I was sad not getting a visit for three whole years... Though now that I look at you, all sadness magically vanished." he smirked at her, his expression confident and cocky. "You still look like a child compared to me."

"You will always be older than me, Ramsay - What exactly do you want me to do about it?" she breathed out, slowly analysing him; He grew up so much in three years... He looked gorgeous. Gorgeous, and deranged. Those crystal clear eyes were swimming with craziness, only highlighted by the peeking moonlight caressing his already pale face.

"Grow up!" with a swift power move, he grabbed her body and lifted her in the air, reveling in the cutesy squeals of her surprise, and the strong grip she held on his shoulders. Little kitten loved to dig her nails in his flesh, how exciting.

"How about you help me win, instead?!" she cried out. "Now please, put me down - And help me out, please!" begrudgingly, he did just that, dragging her to the fire, where she explained the premise of their contest... And how adorable she was, admitting to still feeling afraid of the dark, clinging onto him so adorably.

Ramsay smirked, clearly pleased with her bagging for his help so sweetly. “Of course, Kitten. I’ll make sure you have a little… advantage.”

"Meow." she meowed! She... Meowed, of all things! How was he supposed to keep his hands to himself when she was being so adorable?! It had been three whole years since they last saw each other; She grew even more beautiful than he expected, than he imagined - And now, he can't even touch her! How unnerving.

Y/N couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in Ramsay’s presence. Though he teased her mercilessly, there was something reassuring about having him by her side - And though she didn’t realize it yet, Ramsay was just as glad to be there with her, the thrill of the hunt only heightened by the prospect of spending the night together in the wild - In the shadows of the Wolfswood, their bond deepened, forged in the darkness and sealed by the blood they would spill together.

Since then, every fortnight, until she would turn 17 years of age, they would meet in their special spot in the Wolfswood. Eddard and Cat sometimes spotted her sneaking away, but they could never get her to say a thing - She was praying in the Godswood or something - No one would believe her.

It was a fortnight after the hunting competition when Y/N first returned to the Wolfswood alone. The memory of Ramsay helping her secure that precious victory over her brothers still lingered in her mind, and she found herself drawn back to the forest, eager to see him again. As she rode into the familiar clearing, she noticed the way the trees seemed to close in around her, the shadows long and deep. She dismounted, tying her horse to a nearby tree, and waited.

She didn’t have to wait long.

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her close before she could react. She gasped, her heart leaping into her throat as she struggled instinctively, but then she heard his familiar chuckle in her ear.

“Miss me, Kitten?” Ramsay’s voice was a low, teasing murmur.

Y/N relaxed slightly, though she rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Ramsay, you scared me!” she whined, trying and failing to push him away from her.

“That was the point.” he replied, his arms still holding her securely. “It’s no fun if you see me coming.”

She turned in his arms to face him, her expression both annoyed and amused. “One of these days, I’ll get the jump on you.”

Ramsay smirked, clearly pleased by her challenge. “I’d like to see you try.”

Each meeting after that became a game — A test of wits and skill - For the bastard, that is. Ramsay would always arrive first, hiding in the shadows of the forest, waiting impatiently for the perfect moment to strike. Sometimes he would leap out from behind a tree, causing Y/N to yelp in surprise; Other times, he would sneak up silently, wrapping his arms around her waist or pinning her against a tree before she even realized he was there.

With each encounter, Ramsay’s touches grew bolder. He would linger behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders, or let his fingers brush against her hair as they walked together through the forest. Y/N, now 16, was aware of his increasing boldness, but she couldn’t deny the thrill it brought her. She was beginning to understand all those suspicious things he would tell her as children - To think he would be so bold and knowledgeable since so long ago... His advances were teasing, playful and straight-forward, and she felt a strange mix of excitement and apprehension each time he touched her.

Ramsay seemed to revel in her reactions, his smirk ever-present as he found new ways to surprise and corner her. He would pin her to the ground during their mock fights, holding her down as she struggled and laughed, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite understand. Other times, he would push her against a tree, their faces inches apart, his breath warm against her skin as he teased her mercilessly.

As the years passed, their meetings became a constant in their lives. No matter what happened between Winterfell and the Dreadfort, they always returned to the Wolfswood, where the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them.

She began bringing her pets— A red wolf named Meleys after the Red Dragon Queen, and a fox named Jade to match her eyes; Meleys, with her fiery fur and fierce loyalty, would growl softly at Ramsay whenever he got too close, while Jade, more curious than cautious, would dart around their feet, sniffing at Ramsay with mild interest, yapping to play with him, or to garner his affections.

One night, after a rather intense wrestling onto the ground that left Y/N pinned beneath Ramsay, her wrists above her head, unable to move and breathing hard, struggling to break free, she managed scratched him, again, drawing blood - This time, it was his neck instead. The sight of the single scarlet line against his pale skin made her freeze, her eyes wide with shock.

"Oh no, not again!" she got naturally worried. "I told you not to tease me so much - Now I hurt you! I'm so sorry!"

Ramsay, however, only laughed, his eyes gleaming with something dark and possessive. He grabbed her in his arms, holding her chin. “Looks like you’ve marked me again, Kitten.” he said, his voice a low purr. “Afraid I forgot who you belonged to?”

Katrina flushed, unsure of what to say. She didn’t fully understand the weight of his words, but the way he looked at her made her heart race in a way she couldn’t quite explain. "Let me wipe the blood... I should put some snow on it to stop the bleeding..."

"Or you could be a good little Kitten and lick the blood away." his affirmation shocked the girl so much that she almost didn't realise she was pulled into his lap, her chest flush against his own. "Or... My Lady doesn't want to take accountability for her actions~?"

"That's... That's weird, I can't... I'm not..." he grabbed her face, fixing it to look deep into her eyes.

"What a naughty, naughty Kitten you've been... You wouldn't want me to punish you... Or... Mayhaps that is exactly what you wish for~?" the blush on her cheeks was as beautifully red as her hair; She was so precious and shy, how sweet... And how hard to resist.

"F-Fine... Stay still..." with reticence, she carefully held onto him, one hand holding his jaw up, and the other keeping herself steady by holding onto his shoulder.

The feeling of her hot, wet tongue trailing the small scratch line along his neck garnered a strong shiver from the young man, and a shameless groan of pleasure; Such a sound, so primal, so masculine, it made Y/N feel even more timid... And intrigued. She wanted to hear more... To make him react more.

She continued in her conquest, using instead her lips, kissing at his skin until there was no more blood leaking down... Each kiss made his grip on her body get stronger to the point of pain... But she loved it. She loved how feral Ramsay could get, so strong, so unchained... So arousing. And then, once she held onto him tighter, and her kisses turned bolder, nipping away at his skin, sucking on it, he was desperate... So desperate, in fact, that he had to roughly push her away and place snow on his neck to cool down his scorching body, or he was sure to burst and make a mess of his breeches... Or worse, force her down and claim her. It wasn't how he wanted her to look at him... But it wasn't easy to hold back around her.

"Never do that again, sweetling - Not to anyone, except me."

As the time approached for Y/N to turn 17, their meetings in the Wolfswood took on a new tension. Ramsay’s touches became more lingering, his teasing words more loaded with meaning. He would hold her closer, his hands sliding down to her waist, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered things that made her cheeks burn. He wanted her so desperately, but there was no way he would destroy the way she craves him so, by taking her against the tree in the forest.

During their last meeting before her birthday, Ramsay surprised her by sneaking up behind her as she sat by a stream, lost in thought. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against him as he nuzzled her neck.

“You’ve gotten better at sneaking up on me.” Katrina admitted, her voice betraying the mix of emotions she felt.

Ramsay smirked, his breath warm against her skin. “I love seeing you squeal for me, My Lady."

She tried to pull away, feeling the intensity of his gaze on her, but he held her fast, his hands firm on her waist. “What do boys and girls do together when they’re old enough?” he had teased her many times before, always with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/N had never fully understood the implications, but she knew enough to feel a flutter of something in her chest — Something that made her both curious and uneasy - The same wicked thing she felt, kissing his neck, and witnessing his raw reactions. That was what happened to young people whose parents never told them how babies were made... And, worse... Parents who never knew how pleasure was made.

“When you’re old enough, I’ll show you.” Ramsay had once promised, his voice dark and mischievous. "I will show you something even better than the games boys and girls do when they're alone." Unfortunately, he wouldn't have the opportunity to show her the hedonistic world of pleasure he succumbed himself into... The world in which he wanted to drown together... For she was forced to join the retinue to King's Landing and search for a proper marriage prospect... Fit for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark.

Y/N was always looking forward to the routine her and Ramsay created for themselves, meeting at the same spot once every two weeks, and catching up, havin fun... She was always the happiest when around him... And yet, this time, Y/N was troubled... Desperate, frustrated, angry, betrayed...

She dismounted from her horse with a heavy heart, her hands trembling as she tied the reins to a nearby tree. Meleys, her red wolf, and Jade, her pet fox, followed closely behind her, sensing the tension that hung in the air. She had come to the clearing many times over the years, but this time felt different... The finality of an ephemeral bliss hung over her neck like a guillotine.

Ramsay was already there, leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes, as always, filled with playful malice and mischief, ready to torment his sweet flower - Though, as she approached him, he straightened, his posture tense, as though bracing himself for the bad news brought by a black raven. In the past three years, not once had he seen her this miserable... This... Sorrowful.

“What's gotten my naughty little Kitten so pissed? No more drapes to scratch? Or human flesh is the only thing that can satisfy you now?” he spoke in his usual dark, taunting voice, but for once, his teasing didn't seem to have the intended effect - Or any at all, for what matters.

Y/N didn't even look at him, or acknowledge his presence. H he greeted her, his voice rougher than usual. Her face was paler than usual, and her eyes were puffy pink and glazed with tears, her brows were furrowed in a deep frown, and her mind lost in thought. He couldn't stand this look on her. She was supposed to be sweet and smile, to be energetic and filled with vitality, to jump on his and scratch him, to cuddle into his arms and purr so lovingly;

She did none of that.

"What's the matter? Daddy found us out?" he scoffed a question, but she merely shook her head. "So?" she said nothing. "Go on. Speak." still nothing. "I do not appreciate this, Y/N."

She nodded in response, unable to find her voice at first. The words she had rehearsed so many times in her mind now seemed hollow, insufficient for the gravity of the moment. In his rage and frustration, Ramsay roughly grabbed the girl by the furs of her dress, wrestling her to the ground into the soothingly cold snow; His hands were holding tightly onto her shoulders, his face twisted into a malicious sneer - Yet one look into her devastated eyes... Her hopelessness... And he was immediately simmered down.

"The King came over a few days ago." she stammered pitifully over her words. "Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King died... And he wants daddy to become the next Hand..." with great difficulty, she managed to utter some words.

"What's that got to do with you?" he hissed under his breath, his eyes not even once flickering away from her own.

"My daddy was forced to accept... Thus, he has to stay in King's Landing." he slowly nodded his head, as if to urge her to continue. "Sansa fell in love with the King's son, Joffrey... I told her he's a real cunt, that he's not the gallant prince she dreams of, from 'The Ballad of Florian and Jonquil'... But she wouldn't listen... She wants to marry him..." she gulped, tears streaming down her face. "She is barely eleven... Hasn't even flowered yet..."

"You were eleven when I met you." Ramsay noted, earning a nod from her. "You are seventeen now, and still an unwed maiden. The eldest Lady Stark." she cringed softly at the affirmation. "They want to trade you to some rich old fuck, like a piece of meat." she nodded again. "How miserable."

"I don't want to go, Ramsay." she whimpered so pitifully, that the young man found his body growing hot. "I want to stay with you - Forever. The North is my home... I-I can't stay there... I can't..."

"A flower of the North, uprooted and forced to wilt in the stench and stifling heat of the South." he muttered under his breath.

"Mother has been furious for a while that daddy let me unmarried for so long... He wanted me to fall in love and marry someone I wanted... But my mother, married out of duty, also wanted me to do the same... Just like the Tully word - Family, Duty, Honour - ... Marry, have many heirs, do your duties..." he had never seen her cry before, but now, she clinged onto him, sobbing into the crook of her neck, so desperately and pitifully that he almost couldn't understand her. "I don't want to marry some pathetic lordling! I don't want to give birth! I don't want it - Any of it!" she whined and mewled like that some more; Ramsay's grip tightened around her protectively... Possessively... And then... "I want you, Ramsay! I want only you! I want to be you friend, I want to have fun with you, I want to marry you - I want to stay with you forever - Forever and Always!"

His breathing was heavy, picking up a little; He dragged her on his lap, and held her so tightly to his chest that she almost got lost inside his strong embrace. "That's right, little Kitten. You are mine, and only mine. No one can have you. No one but me." he grumbled in her ear, his hand burying into her hair, holding her firmly. "Did they find some shit lord yet?" annoyingly enough, she nodded her head.

"Tyrion Lannister... The Imp." she whimpered lowly. "He is a witty and respectful man... I would have a content life with him... He wouldn't force me to do anything I didn't want..." she hiccuped from sobbing. "But he isn't you. No one is you. And I want only you."

The thought of losing her ��� Of her being taken away to a place where he couldn’t reach her—stoked the fire of his rage once more. “And you brought your pets over to let me take care of them, then?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I don't want your pets, Y/N. I want you.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words. She had known for years that Ramsay’s feelings for her were intense, even possessive, but this was the first time he had spoken so plainly. She felt more tears slip down her cheek as she looked up at him, her vision blurred by the emotion she had tried so hard to contain.

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out and cupped her face in his hands, his touch surprisingly gentle. “You’re mine, Y/N.” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a dark promise. “You’ve always been mine, and you always will be.”

Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, wanting to believe him— To believe that they could find a way to be together, despite the forces of the universe pulling them apart. She knew how difficult it would be - Escaping King's Landing was close to blasphemy; She knew the expectations placed upon her as a Stark, and the dangers of being tied to a man like Ramsay... A bastard...

She cared for nothing, except for her happiness. She wanted to be selfish, in spite of how much she loved her family. “I’ll find a way back to you.” she promised, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ll escape King’s Landing, I swear it.”

Ramsay’s expression darkened, his grip on her face tightening. “You’d better.” he growled. “Because if you don’t, I’ll come for you. I’ll burn that wretched city to the ground if I have to.”

His words, though terrifying, were also a twisted comfort to her. She knew Ramsay meant every word — He would stop at nothing to claim what he believed was his. But as much as she wanted to be with him, she couldn’t ignore the fear that gripped her heart, the fear that she might not be able to return, that she might be trapped in the South forever. That she would wilt before she got the chance to liberate herself.

Ramsay pulled her closer, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’ll take care of Meleys and Jade.” he finally said, his voice rough with emotion. “But don't forget who you belong to, Y/N."

Y/N nodded, her tears mingling with his breath. She wanted to say something, to reassure him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, a silent promise that she would return to him, no matter the cost.

She bit her lip, forcing herself to hold back another sob that threatened to escape. She couldn’t bear to leave him like this, but she had no choice - She wasn't a wild wolf anymore, but a collared dog on a leash, and the handler was a slut like Myranda.

With one last glance at him, she forced herself out of his protective arms, turned around and mounted her horse, her heart heavy with sorrow. "I cannot say farewell... But I can try and say... I will see you again... Soon."

As she rode away, she heard Ramsay’s voice call out to her, filled with a desperation that shook her to her core. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

Y/N didn’t look back, tears streaming down her face as she urged her horse forward, the forest closing in around her. She knew this wouldn’t be the last time she saw Ramsay, but the thought of the long, uncertain road ahead filled her with dread... And determination to break free from her shackles... A ferocious, feral instinct broke inside of her, and she was ready to transform into the she-wolf she was born to be...

The cold, dimly lit chamber of the Dreadfort, where the stone walls seem to absorb any warmth that might exist felt now even colder than before, Ramsay noted unconsciously, once he realised it had already been over a year since he hasn't seen Y/N... Since she'd been mercilessly snatched away from his grasp.

Roose Bolton sat at his desk, his expression as impassive as ever, while Ramsay stood before him; The tension between father and son was as harshly palpable as always. The air was thick with the scent of burning torches and the ever-present dampness of the castle, a stark reminder of the harshness of the North, didn't bother him anymore; A man of the North would never be bothered by such trivialities.

Fueled by a mixture of fury and frustration, Ramsay is seething inside at the thought of losing Y/N, but his father’s presence was forcing him to maintain a veneer of calm... For as long as humanly possible for him.

Ramsay paced the length of the chamber, his hands clenched behind his back, his mind a storm of rage and dark thoughts - He was restless - Restless as never before, and that restlessness usually brought with it a storm of torture, hedonism and quite a lot of erratic flaying.

The room felt too small, too suffocating; His father’s cold gaze on him felt like a blade pressed to his throat. He wanted nothing more than to unleash his fury, to tear the room apart, and his father with it, but he knew better. Roose Bolton did not tolerate outbursts, and Ramsay knew he had to keep his emotions in check... As long as he was a bastard, his father was still useful... Afterwards, well...

“You are going to dig a dam if you keep pacing.” Roose’s voice broke through his thoughts, a calm, controlled tone that belied the gravity of their discussion. "Don't tell me you're thinking of that Stark girl again."

Ramsay forced himself to stop pacing, turning to face his father. He knew Roose saw everything, knew everything, and any attempt to hide his feelings would be futile. Still, he had to be careful. His voice was tight with barely suppressed anger. “She’s in King’s Landing.” he grumbled. "For over a year."

Roose arched an eyebrow, his expression giving nothing away. “And this concerns you... How, exactly?" his father's words cut as deep as the cold Valyrian steel. "Have you forgotten you place again?"

Ramsay’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to stay calm. "No... Father." he licked his lips, looking down for a few seconds. "But she's a Stark - The daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, and now, Hand of the King. Marrying her - Politically, of course - Would help our House regain power and wealth again."

"MY House." his father's words felt like whips against his skin. "Not yours. You are a Snow, not a Bolton." he continued with a painfully strong word. "Yet." Roose leaned back in his chair, studying his son with those cold, calculating eyes. “You’ve grown attached to the girl, haven’t you?” he said, a faint hint of amusement in his voice. “You don't care about politics - You only care about yourself." he scoffed, sneering at his son with disgust. "It’s only natural for a bastard to crave what he can’t have.” he continued to belittle him even more. "If you got tired of Tansy's cunt, just move to Kyra - And if even she bores you, you have Myranda. There's plenty women in here - Stop wasting time thinking of the one you can never have. You're wasting your time - And mine."

Ramsay’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He hated the way his father spoke, the way he dismissed him, the way he thought him incompetent and lesser, just because he was born out of wedlock. "She's mine. I claimed her - And I will make sure I get what I want."

Roose’s amusement faded, replaced by a steely resolve. “If you want to make her yours in more than just your mind, you’ll have to do more than just ruining the floor of my study chamber.” he said, his voice as cold as the North itself. “Listen clearly to me, Ramsay. We have a new ally - Far more powerful than the Starks.”

Ramsay narrowed his eyes, his anger simmering just below the surface. “What do you mean?” it was the first time he heard his father speaking about aiding someone other than the Starks - Knowing full well the Bolton army was aiding the Young Wolf win against the Lannister - And that his father, also, had to return to the battlefield soon enough.

Roose leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “The Stark boy, Robb, is a threat to the Crown. Naturally, the self-proclaimed 'King In The North' has a huge bounty on his head - And there is a way to remove him from the board, permanently.”

Ramsay’s heart skipped a beat. He had heard whispers of the plot, rumors of a grand betrayal that would see the Young Wolf brought to his knees, but hearing it from his father’s lips made it real, tangible. He had allied with the Lannisters. “The Red Wedding.” he said quietly, more a statement than a question.

Lord Bolton nodded, his expression unreadable. “The army is going to reach the Twins, and Lord Frey demands a groom. Alas, Robb Stark has the same dangerous sense of loyalty that his own father had - The same loyalty that got him killed." he let out a sardonic laugh. "He married the woman he slept with, out of duty - He cannot be the groom; He's sending his uncle, a lowly, incompetent Tully Fish. Of course Walder Frey would feel betrayed... And will act accordingly." his peering eyes stabbed his own, and his voice was threatening and alarming. "If you want to secure your claim to Winterfell, you must act soon. After Robb Stark dies, the next-in-line heirs are merely children of 7 and 3. The heir is clear - Your darling Y/N Stark." Roose smirked ironically, seeing his bastard's interest piqued, for once. "Everyone wants to fuck an heir in her womb, Ramsay. She is every Noble House's target." his jaw clenched in anger, in rage, in madness. "But only you must claim her maidenhood, make her your woman and have her bare your heirs. It is the only way to secure your position as the next Lord Bolton."

Ramsay’s mind raced. The idea of Robb Stark dead, of Winterfell ripe for the taking, filled him with a dark excitement. But it was Y/N’s face that haunted his thoughts, her tearful promise to return to him, to escape the South and come back to the North. The thought of losing her, of her being out of his reach, drove him to the brink of madness. Then, he remembered the tears painting her face, her distraught, her agony - How loudly she yelled that she didn't want to be a tool to create heirs? That she didn't want to give birth, because she was terrified of the pain, terrified of death, of motherhood - Of everything? And he was on the same wavelength as her - No way he wanted to be a father - Not while his mind still works properly. But Roose continued, his voice like ice, waking him up from his excruciating inner conflict. “Do something useful for once in your pathetic, miserable life and marry that Stark wench you kept sneaking out to meet for three years." he spat at his son. "Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Ramsay. You may be stealthy, but I know everything.”

Ramsay’s blood ran cold. His father knew—of course, he knew. Roose Bolton knew every secret, every move his son made. There was no hiding from him. But what Roose didn’t understand, what he couldn’t comprehend, was the depth of Ramsay’s obsession with Katrina. She was not just a means to an end, not just a stepping stone to power. She was his, in a way that went beyond any rational thought or ambition.

The bastard didn’t respond; He didn’t trust himself to speak. He left the chamber, his heart and mind a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. As he stepped into the cold corridors of the Dreadfort, his thoughts returned to Y/N, to her promise to return, to the way she had looked at him in the Wolfswood. He would make sure she kept that promise. She would be his, no matter the cost.

As he walked through the dimly lit halls, all the way outside of the Fort, and into the forest, his mind churned with plans and possibilities. The Red Wedding would be the first step, yes... His father's betrayal... But Y/N… She was his obsession, his desire, the one thing that mattered more than anything else. He would marry her, claim Winterfell, and make sure that she never left his side again m- All on his own accord, not the traditional way the old fucks want to force upon them. He needed her happy; He needed her to want him, to need him, to desire him the same way he wants, needs and desires her.

No one, not even his father, would stand in his way to get his little Kitten back in his arms.

Lost in his mind, the young bastard found himself by the running river - He always wanted to take Y/N here, his special spot to get away from the world. Once, she admitted to him that, although her personality is very much that of a wolf, she still find a good portion of her peace by the river-run, just like her Tully mother.

The icy wind blew through the trees along the riverbank, but Ramsay barely felt it. His dark mood had numbed him to the cold of the North. He stood by the rushing waters of the river, his fists clenched, chest heaving with barely suppressed rage.

He couldn't believe over a year had passed since his sweetling had been taken to King’s Landing, and in that time, Ramsay had fallen into a restless spiral. His hunts no longer thrilled him, and even the cruel games he played with his prisoners brought him no joy. No one could satisfy him anymore, and every woman he took to his bed only made the ache for Y/N grow worse. With an empty chuckle, he remembered the hurt in Myranda's eyes, and the protest she chirped, once he called her by Y/N's name instead of her own. Hilarious how either of them thought themselves important in his life. Dumb cunts, all of them.

He cursed under his breath, pacing along the riverbank, his thoughts tangled in frustration and agony. The image of her haunted him - Her eyes, her smile, the playful way she used to tease him. It wasn't just her beauty that lingered in his mind; it was the feeling she invoked in him. A need deeper than any he'd known before. She had marked him, claimed him, and he hated her for it, almost as much as he longed for her, needed her, just like he needed air to breathe.

His breath came in harsh gasps as he leaned against a tree, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. He slammed his fist against the bark, the roughness biting into his skin, but the pain brought him no relief. His mind kept returning to her, to the day she left, to her cries, her tears, her screams, to the promise she'd made, the way she'd looked back at him with those desperate, pleading eyes, almost as if she was begging him to kidnap her and tie her up in the dungeons, away from the harsh world that would hurt her... That would take her away from him.

"Where the hell are you?" he snarled, his voice echoing through the wind, as he continued punching at the tree, an unfortunate bad habit he got since childhood; Punching until his fist was a bloody mess... Punching until he didn't want to claw his own body out, as if he needed to escape this cage of flesh and sinew.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Ramsay caught movement; He tensed, instinctively reaching for the dagger at his side - Instead of danger, he saw the familiar forms of Meleys and Jade that approached him. The red wolf padded silently through the trees, her light coloured eyes gleaming with intelligence and caution, while the fox moved with graceful playfulness. Ramsay lowered his guard, watching as they approached him.

The wolf nuzzled his hand, the softness of her fur a stark contrast to his cold rage... Her red-coppery fur was as velvety soft as Y/N's hair, he remembered. His muscles relaxed, if only slightly, and he knelt down, letting his fingers run through Meleys' fur. Jade, ever loving, kept her green eyes fixed on him, before she yapped for his attention.

"You're missing her too, aren’t you?" Ramsay muttered, his voice softening for a moment. He scratched Meleys behind the ears, feeling the animal’s warmth against his skin. It was strange — He’d never cared for animals like Y/N did, but these two were different. Sure, he preferred the company of dogs over that of people, and for good reason...

When he looked Meleys in the eyes, she looked straight back at him; She climbed on his lap and gently licked at his face. He didn't stop her. He remembered those times when he'd meet Y/N, and she'd show him how she learnt to warg into Meleys, to see life through her, to control her... To live through her. He often wondered if Y/N was warged into Meleys, and she was trying to comfort him... To show him her love... To give him hope...

Jade, too, jumped on him, nudging her small wet truffle-snout against his palm, licking at his bloody wounds; Ramsay found some strange solace in their presence, though he would never admit it. Meleys and Jade missed her too — He could see it in the way they searched for her, the way they lingered near places where she used to be. They were as restless as he was, as hungry for her return.

"She promised." Ramsay whispered, more to himself than to the animals. "She swore she'd come back."

Meleys whimpered softly, nudging Ramsay's hand, as though offering comfort in her own way, then gently placed her head on his shoulder. Jade blinked up at him with her bright eyes, her tail flicking slightly. They were loyal creatures, just as Y/N had been loyal to him - That loyalty, that bond they all shared — It was the one thing he could cling to when the loneliness clawed at his insides.

"I will flay everyone who gets in her way." his hand gripped the hilt of his dagger, his jaw tightening with renewed resolve. Y/N would return to him. She had to. And when she did, he would never let her go again. Not to anyone. Not to anything. She was his, marked by him, claimed by him; He wore her mark, that haughty little kitten.

He sat there in the snow for a while longer, the quiet of the forest and the gentle presence of Meleys and Jade soothing his maddening thoughts. For the first time in what felt like weeks, Ramsay allowed himself to relax just a little; Though beneath his calm exterior, the storm still brewed.

"See, Sandor?!" Y/N desperately tried to shake him into agreeing with her plan; Though her lack of strength managed to move him not even by a fraction of an inch. "You must help me! Please - You must!"

"You're just as fucked in the head as he is, little fox." the Hound barked a sarcastic laugh. "What of the little bird?"

Y/N hesitated, looking down. "She..." Y/N gulped, her voice wavering. "The Lannisters have her in their clutches. She won't listen to me... Not anymore. She's forgotten herself, who she is... Since father died." she bit her lip painfully hard. "I cannot save her anymore, Sandor; And I can save our family even less if I am trapped here, in this hell." she looked up into his eyes, strength and determination surprising even him "I trust only you with her safety. Whatever happens of that... A wolf must always return to the North. I hope, one day, you will escape also - And bring her with you to our home." she continued in a more tender home. "You will always be welcomed in the North, Sandor."

"You've lost your mind, girl. I am welcomed nowhere - Especially not given my reputation." he rolled his eyes, pushing her away from him. "Fine. I'll take care of the little song bird - But don't expect me to die for her. That damned lousy cunt who calls himself the King is unpredictable, and I am still just a dog."

"A loyal dog who's earned the trust of the Queen In The North."

The night of the wildfire siege at Blackwater Bay was a chaos of screams and roaring flames that lit the sky with an eerie green glow. The city was in disarray, and amidst the flames, the terrified Sandor Clegane dragged the two Stark sisters out of their rooms and fled the blasted Crown city for good, never to look back or miss the damned stench.

At first, they didn't know where to go, except North - Always into the North - Yet during one silent camping stop where their fear calmed down the littlest bit, they agreed on a temporary strategy - Reunite with the Young Wolf who was currently hosted at the Twins.

Unfortunately the reunion was bitter, and that night they didn't meet Robb Stark nor Catelyn Stark or Grey Wind... They met death staring right at them. Sansa fell into the Hound's arms, sobbing, wailing, almost waiting at the grotesque sight... Almost as bad as seeing her father beheaded... Y/N remained silent, her mind all but blank and filled with rage and revenge. What once was her proud brother, the beautiful Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell, the King in the North... Was now reduced to a headless corpse mounted on a horse... With his precious Grey Wind's head sewn on his shoulders. No doubt, their mother also met a similarly humiliating and grotesque fate.

"Y/N. I found your rat runt of a sister." Sandor spoke, out of nowhere, holding Arya by the back of her shirt as she was trying to escape his grasp and run head-first into the Bolton and Frey army to kill them all.

"Let me go! Now! I'll kill you, you stupid mutt! Y/N, tell him!" the little sister tried to struggle, but it was Sansa who slapped her face.

"Arya, can't you see?! Robb is dead! Mother is dead! If you go there, we will lose you too! Stop being a brat for once, and listen to us!" poor Sansa's heartbroken cries made even the wild little sister stare at her with wide eyes, and teared up too.

"They... They killed them... Slaughtered... Like livestock... Why..." came her little, trembling voice. "It's not fair..."

"Life ain't fair, girl." the dog grunted under his breath, taking them away from there. They suffered enough, no need to see the enemy making a mockery of their beloved family anymore.

"The North remembers... And we will have their skins..." though Arya was emboldened by that fearsome threat, Sansa shuddered a little at her cold, hars voice. It was only Sandor who noticed the malice and vendetta behind her words... And the ally hidden in the North, ready to flay anyone alive. What a deranged bastard. Gulping away her sorrow, Y/N finally found the words and strength to speak. "Let's go to aunt Lysa for now, and we'll see what we do from there."

The road to the Eyrie was filled with danger, but Sandor, Arya and Y/N knew how to fight away the assailants; They pushed forward relentlessly, despite their exhaustion and heartbreak. The girls needed a place to recover — Somewhere far from the reach of the Lannisters and the Freys. The only safe place they had left.

The eerie mountain fortress became their temporary sanctuary, though they knew they couldn't stay forever. Surprisingly even to himself, Sandor guarded over the Stark girls with the fierce loyalty of a dog - Though not for long. The girls had to divide and conquer, to make a plan and gain enough support and a proper army to regain what was lost through the Red Wedding, and the loss of Robb and Catelyn Stark.

Sansa, ever the diplomat, remained at the Eyrie to deal with aunt Lysa and young Robert; Arya had escaped into the night, ready to take on the unknown and learn how to properly fight and fend for herself, a little girl against the endless world; Y/N was going to reclaim their home and name herself the heir and Lady of Winterfell - Bran and Rickon were far too little to lead, even with the Maesters aiding them. Maester Luwin might have been as intelligent and loving as their second father, but even he couldn't rule the way a true Stark would.

Leaving Sansa in the care of Sandor, Y/N began her lonely ride northward. She hadn’t heard of what had befallen Winterfell — Only whispers of its burning and rumors of her brothers’ deaths. Her heart told her it was lies, but her mind feared the worst.

The North was desolate, colder than she remembered, and the haunting loneliness echoed in every step she took toward her home. Winterfell had once been a place of safety, but now, the foreboding silence filled her with dread.

When she finally arrived at Winterfell, the place she called home was but a shell of what it had been. The castle stood lonely and bleak, with the Greyjoy banner flapping mockingly above the walls. Panic surged through her veins as she noticed two small bodies, covered in tar, burnt and hanged above the gate as display for all to see. They couldn't be... No way those were Bran and Rickon... Theon Greyjoy would never...

She stormed inside, desperately searching for answers, only to be greeted by the sight of Theon, standing in her father’s hall, playing at being Lord of Winterfell.

Fury like she had never known surged through her - Theon had betrayed them, his only family that accepted him after is own father renounced him in favour of his sister, Asha, who was a far better leader than he would ever be.

Her anger overwhelmed her to the point of irrationality; The words were ripping from her throat with all the venom she could muster. Theon was no longer the boy she once knew. He was brittle, broken, and deluded with false power. The arrogant power-trip that the weak get once given the chance to hold a fickle grain of power.

"You... You pathetic, loathsome, disgusting, arrogant little cockroach!" the voice of a Stark roared loudly through the castle walls, calling forth all of its original inhabitants - They all marveled in joy and horror at seeing Lady Stark return home. "Theon Greyjoy, who in the Seven Hells do you think you are?!" she lunged at him, wrestling him to the ground in his state of confusion and panic.

"You—!" her voice was a guttural snarl, thick with disbelief and outrage. "You traitorous bastard!" she screamed as her fists slammed into him, each strike landing with the weight of her anger and heartbreak. The hall fell into shocked silence, with the few guards present too stunned to react immediately - Though none of them had any respect for the poor excuse of a Kraken playing the leader role. "How dare you sit there! That seat belongs to my father! My family! You are nothing!"

Theon, momentarily caught off guard, could only try to shield himself from the onslaught; Y/N’s blows came hard and fast, her nails scratching at his face and her fists thudding against his chest. For a brief moment, she was relentless, every ounce of betrayal and rage from months of being away from her home, from seeing her family butchered, pouring out of her.

Theon groaned in pain and surprise as she clawed at him, her anger consuming every fiber of her being. “Stop—!” he tried to shout over her furious attacks, but his voice was drowned out by her curses - Just like his useless God.

"How could you?!" she cried, voice cracking with the raw emotion of betrayal. "After everything we've done for you! After we treated you like one of us! You were my brother, Theon! And now this?! You betray your best friend who trusted you above all else, take over my home, declare yourself the Lord and even kill my brothers!" her fists slammed into him again, the intensity of her emotions seeping into every word. "You disgust me! You, vile, evil, pathetic worm!"

The old citizens of Winterfell, those who had remained loyal to the Starks, rushed forward in an attempt to hold her back. A few guards hesitated at first, unsure whether or not to protect Theon from the girl’s wrath or to stand aside. One of the older men, who had known Y/N since she was a child, wrapped his arms around her from behind, gently restraining her despite her thrashing.

"Lady Y/N, please!" the man pleaded, his voice filled with sorrow. "You'll only get yourself hurt - Your precious hands should not be damaged against a lowly peasant such as him." truly, no one feared him, nor respected him. He was a wretch everywhere he went. Even his own family was praying for him never to return.

Y/N was panting, her wild eyes still fixed on Theon, who now stood from the ground, wiping at his bleeding face, his eyes a mix of embarrassment and growing rage. Her chest heaved as she struggled against the arms holding her back, her voice hoarse with the weight of everything she had bottled up for too long, a dark, malicious murder intent growing ever stronger.

"You don't belong here!" she spat, trying to wrench herself free. "This is my home!"

Theon’s pride, wounded by both her words and her successful attack, twisted his expression into something unknown. His initial shock and shame from being attacked by a woman was quickly replaced by a cruel sneer, the only way he knew to hide the guilt and shame gnawing at his insides.

“Shut up, you worthless mewling quim!” he snapped, straightening himself and brushing off his tunic as though her blows were nothing but an inconvenience. “The past doesn't matter. Winterfell is mine - The House of Theon Greyjoy, Lord of Winterfell, Warden in the North." unexpectedly, Y/N managed to land another harsh slap against his gaunt face, then spat him in the eyes.

"You may call yourself whatever you wish, but you will never earn the respect or aid of anyone! You’re nothing but a coward playing at being king in a castle that’s not yours! Do you really think this charade will last? You think you can be anything more than the Greyjoy runt, pathetic and spineless?!” she screeched at him even as he dug his hand into her hair and tugged harshly at it. "You don't know what happens to traitors, do you, Theon? Everyone hates a traitor."

Theon’s face flushed red as Y/N's words pierced through the thin veil of arrogance he had built around himself. For a moment, he wavered, the reality of the situation crashing into him - But his desperation to hold on to his fleeting power won out, and he grabbed her from the man's arms, slapping her face hard with his gloved hand; She simply grinned with defiance - No once could hit harder than Meryn Trant and his metal gauntlet. "You even hit like a cunt, Theon. You could never best me at anything."

Theon looked around at the gathered faces—faces of the people he had known for years, people who had served the Starks faithfully. They were not looking at him with fear or respect, but with contempt and disgust. His eyes flickered back to Y/N, who was still breathing heavily, her eyes filled with loathing and burning rage. Something shifted in him. For a moment, guilt seemed to seep into his features, but he masked it quickly with a cold glare.

“Lock her in her room.” he ordered with a dismissive wave of his hand, his voice trembling slightly. “I will teach some proper discipline into her later - And you will learn to scream my name from the top of your lungs - Lord Theon Greyjoy."

The old man holding Katrina hesitated, clearly torn between his loyalty to her and his fear of what Theon might do if defied. Y/N, however, stopped struggling, her fury replaced by a dangerous calm. "You don't have a big enough cock to fuck me, nor the balls to dare even approach me. That's why you could only get women through coin - You are everyone's laughing-stock, and that's what you will remain forever." she said, her voice low but venomous. “And mark my words — You will regret ever stepping foot in this castle.”

Theon flinched slightly at the threat, but he quickly turned away, trying to maintain an air of control as Y/N was swiftly led away by the remaining Stark loyalists who were afraid to see their Lady get in even more trouble. His grip on power was tenuous at best, and deep down, he knew it. Anarchy was approaching.

Y/N’s parting words echoed in his mind, and for a brief moment, a flicker of doubt crossed his face. He had lost his only true family in the Starks, and now even Y/N, the girl who had treated him like a brother for years, despised him, and rightfully so. Despite his stolen throne, Theon felt more alone than ever before.

She was supposed to become a prisoner in her own bedroom chambers, but Y/N Stark was no prisoner — At least, not for long. That night, before Theon could instill his faux sense of discipline and power on her, she escaped through the old tunnels she had explored as a child, her heart set on freedom and revenge. She fled back into the Wolfswood, where the wolves of her ancestors watched over her and awaited the Stark she-wolf to reclaim her home. Yes, the initial plan failed, but there was one last thing she could do -

Return to Ramsay Snow and get the Bolton army on her side.

Once she reached the forest edge close to the Dreadfort, Y/N dismounted and stumbled through the underbrush of the Wolfswood, her clothes torn and her face streaked with tears and dirt. Once she saw the fort in her sight, she took a deep breath and let out a long, haunting howl, the sound echoing through the trees like a wolf’s cry — A cry of both pain and a call for her true brethren to reunite as one once more.

She felt her voice tearing at her throat as she called out into the cold, sharp air. Her fury was boundless. It was the Boltons who had betrayed her family's trust, Roose Bolton who teamed up with Tywin Lannister and orchestrated the Red Wedding, the massacre that took her mother and her brother from her. He was going to pay for betraying her trust. They all will. She will have their skins.

Before long, the silence of the woods was broken. Meleys, her loyal Red Queen, sprinted through the undergrowth, her frozen eyes gleaming in the low light. Behind her, padding quietly, came Jade, her beloved fokin - But it was not just her darling animal-sisters who emerged from the darkness.

As she expected, Ramsay followed shortly after, his black hair wild and messy, his expression one of uncharacteristic joy at the sight of her. For a moment, a flicker of something softer passed through his icy blue eyes, a twinkle of hope. She had come back to him, the only living being he had ever truly wanted - She returned to him, just as she promised.

Y/N’s greeting was, however, far from warm and heartfelt; She snarled at him, her hand instinctively going for her bow. In one swift motion, she nocked an arrow and aimed it at his chest. “Y/N…” Ramsay began, his voice low, almost tender. "You've come back to—"

"Stop right there, you traitorous bastard!" she growled, her voice dripping with venom. She didn't care about the small smile that briefly flashed on his face, or the way his hands slowly rose as if in surrender. She loosed a warning arrow, purposefully missing him by inches, letting it thud dangerously into the trunk of a nearby tree. “Don’t you dare say my name!” she screamed, her voice shaking. Another arrow flew, this one even closer to him, landing in the snow at his feet. “You... you monster! How could you let this happen? How could you betray us? How could you betray me?”

Ramsay's smile faded, replaced by a look of confusion, then anger. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t step forward. Not yet. How dare she accuse him?! And of what, he didn't even know - How dare she?! How DARE she?!

"Betray you?" Ramsay's voice was bubbling and sneering but laced with an undercurrent of fury. He finally realised - It was all about his father's betrayal of the Stark family. Of course. Of - fucking - course. He knew his father was going to ruin everything he ever did in his life - That blasted worm... "You think I had something to do with that?!”

"You’re a Bolton!" Katrina shouted, another arrow notched and ready. “Your father slaughtered my family! My mother, my brother! They were all butchered! Tortured! And for what? For Theon fucking Greyjoy to burn my little brothers alive and take Winterfell for himself?” her voice cracked, and tears welled up in her eyes, though she refused to let them fall. "You knew! You had to have known!"

“I didn’t!” Ramsay spat, his voice growing desperate as her accusations cut into him. “I had nothing to do with it!” his tone was raising with every bit of defense he had to shout to be heard.

"LIAR!" Y/N screamed, and her voice broke as the tears finally spilled down her cheeks. “You’re no different than him! You’re just like your father, Ramsay! You’re—”

In that moment, Ramsay snapped, something inside him, probably his sanity, shattered. The frustration, the rage, the desperation to make her understand, to stop her from hating him - They all boiled over. With a savage growl, he moved faster than she could react, lunging forward and knocking the bow from her hands.

He slammed her back against a nearby tree, his hands gripping her shoulders with a bruising force; She gasped, her breath coming in ragged pants as she stared up at him, wide-eyed like a fawn and trembling, her heart pounding furiously in her chest.

“Shut up!” Ramsay growled through gritted teeth, his face inches from hers. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. You don’t get to blame me for what he did!” he snarled at her like a rabid beast.

Y/N’s breath hitched, and for a brief moment, she was silenced — Bot by fear, but by the intensity of Ramsay’s gaze on her. It burned into her, wild, petrifying and unhinged, filled with emotions she couldn’t quite decipher. Her tears streamed down her face in endless waterfalls, and she tried to shove him away, but he only pressed her harder against the tree, their bodies closer than ever before.

“I have nothing to do with that.” Ramsay snarled, his breath hot against her face. “Nothing - Yet you… You came back, just to accuse me like this?”

She opened her mouth to protest, to explain herself, but before she could speak, Ramsay’s lips crashed against hers in a violent, desperate kiss. Her entire body tensed, shocked by the suddenness of it, by the raw hunger in the way his mouth moved against hers. She tried pushing against him, her mind going crazy, but Ramsay was relentless, strong, and his hands were gripping her tighter as if he was trying to claim her once again, to force her back into submission.

For a moment, her mind blanked, overwhelmed by the intensity of the kiss, her very first kiss; The way his lips devoured hers with a desperation she had never seen in him before. When she finally managed to shove him off, they both stood there, breathing heavily, the air thick with unspoken emotions.

“What…” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “What did you—”

Ramsay’s eyes softened for just a moment. “I didn't betray you.” he said, his voice quieter now, like a threatening low whisper. “Don't ever do that to me ever again. Not even the Old Gods could stop me from tearing you apart if you accuse me of such horse shite ever again. You hear me?!"

She glared at him through her tears, still uncertain, still struggling with the whirlwind of emotions tearing her apart. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that Ramsay wasn’t involved in the betrayal of her family, but the bitterness of grief and the sting of betrayal ran deep.

“I will kill him.” Ramsay promised, his voice turning dark again as he took a step closer, his hands still resting on her shoulders. “Once he legitimises me, I will kill him. He deserves it for everything he did to me - To us." he hissed softly, his lips almost touching her again. "I will flay him alive for you."

Y/N looked up at him, her expression torn. She was still angry, still grieving, but the conviction in his voice made her pause; She believed him. “I heard what that worthless cockroach did to your home.” Ramsay continued, his voice dripping with venom. “I will gift you Winterfell back, and Theon Greyjoy's skin made into a flag."

Y/N’s lips trembled, her heart torn between hatred and hope. She stared up at Ramsay, her thoughts swirling. She had seen so much darkness, so much death - And yet, through all the horrors of the world, Ramsay Snow remained the only person she fully trusted... The one person who might be twisted and screwed in the head enough to give her the vengeance she craved.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them heavy with tension. Finally, she nodded, her voice a soft, broken whisper. “Bring me Winterfell… And bring me Theon Greyjoy. Alive, but not for long.”

Ramsay’s lips curled into a wicked smile as he leaned down, his forehead brushing against hers. “It’s yours.” he whispered. “All of it.” his lips trailed down to her ear, whispering sultry. "All of me."

For the first time in a long time in may painful years, Y/N felt a gleaming of something resembling hope — Dark, twisted, insane hope, but hope nonetheless. They would take Winterfell back, and they would make sure that every betrayal was paid for in blood - That's what he promised her; She kept her promise to him, and it was time for him to reciprocate.

Winterfell will be reclaimed by the shocking wit of the bastard of the Dreadfort - Truly, not only did Y/N never imagine he would be so witty, but also such a fantastic actor; He would play the role of a half-wit peasant called Reek, bring her to Theon as a prize, and gain his trust - Trust which will be oh-so-satisfyingly shattered once Reek betrays him and becomes Ramsay once more... And he will learn his place, that pesky little filth.

The frigid winds howled through the corridors of Winterfell, but within the walls, tension simmered hotter than any hearth. The once-proud castle of Winterfell was shadowed by the Kraken banners of House Greyjoy, their sigil hanging where the direwolf of Stark once stood tall and proud for generations.

Ramsay had donned the rags of a peasant, dirtying himself with soot and mud until he was nothing more than a shadow of the handsome yet brutal man he truly was.

He became "Reek", it rhymes with "Meek", it rhymes with "Leek", it rhymes with "Weak" - a pathetic and broken figure, eager to please and loyal only to Lord Theon Greyjoy. Y/N, playing along, allowed herself to be dragged in as his prisoner, bound and silent, though her eyes burned with cold fury and thirst for a torturous revenge.

Theon, still drunk on his fleeting power-trip, was easily fooled by their flawless charade; He sneered at Y/N, mocked her, and paraded her around like a trophy in front of her people. "Lookie here, Lady Stark came back home!" he struck her face so hard she fell to the ground. Each word, each cruel jest, was like a knife twisted in Y/N’s heart repeatedly, and added salt and cyanide - But she held herself together, knowing that it was only temporary.

She could feel the storming wrath in Ramsay's eyes - The humiliation won't last long, before he snaps and goes berserk. Theon had fallen too far to see the trap being laid for him. Even as he and "Reek" bonded over Y/N’s torment, the bastard’s true self remained hidden, seething beneath the surface, watching and waiting impatiently to destroy this worthless cunt who thinks himself a King.

One of Greyjoy's favourite ways of tormenting the she-wolf was to degrade her in front of his Ironborn; He'd force her to kneel before him, his foot on her shoulder, and would belittle her. "You like kneeling for men, don't you, Y/N? Is that what you did in King's Landing? Whore yourself for any man who gave you attention?" he laughed mockingly at her, looking at Reek for validation, to see if his joke was funny. "The proud Lady Stark, sucking cock like a greedy slut!" he wanted to go further, to take out his dick and dangle it in her face - But something in him couldn't go that far; Was it their previous sibling bond, or the fact that he practically froze under the harsh blizzard-like glare of her eyes - He kicked her to the ground, having his people drag her back to her room, before he took Reek away from there.

Reek kept his eyes downcast and his hands clenched into fists whenever Theon mistreated his sweet little thorny rose. He would swallow down his rage, pretending to be the loyal, cowardly "Reek" who would never dare to defy his master. His nails would dig into his palms until they drew blood, the pain a reminder to keep his cover intact, no matter how badly he wanted to rip Theon apart with his bare hands. He will pay with his skin, and not only. The more he saw Theon mistreating his darling, the more he wanted to make him feel eternal pain. He will lose his cock, his finger nails, toe nails, and more...

He would shove her around, slap her, hit her, insult her and more; So many threats of him fucking a bastard into her womb, and that he will beat her pregnant belly until she loses the babe; Each word he addressed her way became a new way of Ramsay to torture him.

But one night he went to far... Too far, even for Ramsay to accept. Theon had dragged him into Lady Stark's chambers; He buried his hand into her hair, throwing her onto the bed, his hands gripping at her slender body. "Don't you fucking dare..." came a low, guttural rumble, a threat, a warning... But the Kraken was deaf and blind; He ripped the bodice of her dress and with a weirdly strong grip, he tried to spread her legs apart for him to get to her honeyed core. "I will tear you apart, Theon Greyjoy."

"Shut up, you greedy little whore, I know you're desperate for me... You've always looked at me, since we were little..." with a strike to her face, he slumped over her body, rendering her unable to struggle away. "Don't play coy with me - I know you're not pure anymore - You cannot be."

"Listen to me, Theon Greyjoy - I am not yours to claim." she smirked with wicked defiance; She knew her wait was over, and she could rise up and riot. "The only man allowed to claim me is Ramsay Bolton."

"Then I'll make sure to tell him how tight your cunt is." his hand was fumbling with his breeches, ready to take his cock out and fulfill his promise, until...

"I'd like to see you try." Theon was fell limp over Y/N's body, knocked unconscious by an iron poker struck onto his head. "You don't get to touch her - Filth." THE Theon Greyjoy crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, his body lifeless except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, as Ramsay had to restrain himself to jump on him and punch him to death - He deserved far, far worse for even daring to touch his precious Kitten's skin... Let alone think he can CLAIM her.

"Took you long enough." Y/N found herself panting for air, regaining her senses.

"Be glad I'm not claiming you right now." he was trembling with anger as he hissed under his breath.

"You can claim me in front of him." her bold, teasing voice made him snap at her, his eyes wide, tormented. "Down in the dungeons, when you've had your way torturing him... After you cut that useless prick off... Tormented him..."

"Shut up." he growled at her. "Get your people back, raise your flag - Just get away from me." his warning made a shiver go down her spine, and she scurried away from her chambers. She'd never seen Ramsay so pissed that he couldn't control himself even around her. She will let him have his fun for a while, let him cool down on his own, before she returns to check on him.

She moved to the court where the few remaining people of Winterfell— Those who had not yet been driven away or killed — Waited in tense silence. They had seen the Starks fall, seen the banners torn down and replaced with the Kraken of the Ironborn. But now, standing before them, was their last glimmer of hope — The rightful heir to Winterfell. The Queen in the North.

Y/N looked out at the faces of her people, her voice ringing out clear and strong, despite the bruise forming on her cheek. “Theon Greyjoy is no more. Winterfell is our home once more!" there was no mistaking the fierce determination that burned within her - The Scarlet She-Wolf of the Stark House. Once she cupped her hands to her mouth, she let out a loud howl, haunting, booming, alert; Meleys joined in, and from the forest, many more were heard.

The Stark Wolves howled under the Northern Moon once again.

After the bastard finished tying up the naked, unconscious Theon Greyjoy on a wooden X-cross in the dungeons, he went out, watching his Kitten's loud meowing from the shadows, and he held a satisfied smirk on his face. That was his girl, he thought to herself, feeling power brewing in his chest as the people cheered loudly on her - Queen in the North, Lady Y/N Stark - With all the strength and fury of the North.

He slipped away, heading toward the gates where his own forces waited in the cover of night. He signaled them, and like a tidal wave, the Bastard's Boys stormed the premises, decimating any Ironborn still alive. Of course, Y/N wasn't happy to see foreign armies in her home - Alas, she had to accept it for a while.

Back in the dungeons, Theon awoke to the cold, damp darkness, his head throbbing and his wrists bound tightly with burning ropes. He could hear the distant sounds of battle above, the faint screams of his men as they were cut down one by one. Panic surged through him, but before he could cry out, the door to his cell creaked open, and Ramsay stepped inside, carrying the Greyjoy flag in his hands.

With a cruel grin, Ramsay unfolded the Kraken banner before Theon’s wide, terrified eyes. “You’ve made quite a mess of this place, haven’t you, Theon?” Ramsay drawled, his voice mocking. “But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to clean it up.”

With a twisted grin, Ramsay unceremoniously pissed on the Greyjoy flag, defiling it just as Theon had defiled Winterfell. The stench filled the air, and Theon recoiled in horror, but Ramsay only laughed — A dark, mirthless sound that echoed through the dungeon like a death knell.

Ramsay approached him slowly, his leather gloves creaking as he flexed his fingers. His expression was calm, almost serene, but the fire in his pale blue eyes told a different story. He was eager, too eager to start, but he reined himself in, savoring the anticipation. He wanted to make Theon fully aware of what was coming before he even laid a hand on him.

"Reek?! What - How did I get here?! Go on, get me out of here! What are you waiting for?!" but Theon was horrified to see the empty grin of Reek growing ever wider... Twisted, cruel, malicious. "Reek...?! I order you, as Lord Theon Greyjoy, to get me the hell out of here!"

"Y/N was right, you are as stupid as it gets." the bastard scoffed. "I am not 'Reek' - You are! You are Reek." he got close to his face. "And I - I am Ramsay Bolton." Theon's eyes widened with shock and horror, realising he tried to rape this psychopath's woman in front of him; He threatened and tormented her - In front of him.

“You thought you could have her...” Ramsay said, his voice soft, almost conversational, as he circled Theon like a wolf preparing to strike. “Y/N - MY Y/N." he hummed softly. "The Red She-Wolf Queen in the North, Y/N Stark, The Lady of Winterfell... Otherwise known as my precious little Kitten.” He smiled darkly as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against Theon's ear. “You thought you could take what’s mine?”

Theon’s eyes widened with terror, but he couldn’t respond with words that weren't protests or pleas. in his mouth. “Please… Ramsay…” Theon stammered, his voice trembling with fear. “I didn’t mean—”

“Shhh…” Ramsay placed a gloved finger to Theon’s lips, cutting him off. “I’m not interested in your excuses, Greyjoy. I’m interested in watching you suffer.”

Without another word, Ramsay picked up a small, sharp blade from his table of tools. He held it up for Theon to see, letting the dim light from the torches glint off the steel. He then moved toward Theon's hand, grabbing it roughly. Ramsay pressed the blade to Theon's fingers, drawing shallow cuts along the tips—just enough to sting, just enough to let Theon feel the sharpness of the pain before the real suffering began.

He gasped and grunted, squirming, trying to pull his hand away, but Ramsay held him firm, his grip painful and firm. “This is only the foreplay.” Ramsay whispered, his voice dark and dangerous. “You’ll feel every inch of what I’m about to do to you - And I’ll enjoy every second.”

The bastard had chosen a small patch of skin on Theon's chest located where he knew the pain would radiate and linger. He peeled back the flesh slowly, deliberately, relishing in the sight of Theon's blood as it oozed from the wound, along with his screams; His body was convulsing with excruciating agony, but Ramsay remained unfazed - In fact, his nether regions grow hot with desire and lust; He always got aroused when torturing people. His hands worked expertly, and every cry from Theon only seemed to spur him on.

“You should have known better - You have only yourself to blame, Reek.” Ramsay said with an almost casual tone as he continued his work. “You think you’re a lord, you think you’re in control, but you’re not. You never were. Y/N could never belong to a filthy wretch like you. You’re nothing. Nothing but an urchin pretending to be a lord.”

As Theon’s screams grew louder, Ramsay only leaned in closer, whispering in his ear. “This is what happens when you try to steal what belongs to me.”

Once Ramsay was satisfied with the patch of flayed skin, he moved on to Theon’s fingers again, this time bending them back slowly until he heard the satisfying crack of bones breaking. Theon’s howls echoed through the dungeon - Utterly powerless, utterly broken.

“What’s wrong, Reek?” Ramsay mocked, his voice dripping with amusement. “These fingers tried to touch my woman. I either remove them, or kill you, you see? You have to get purified if you want to remain alive."

Theon, shaking from both pain and terror, could only whimper in response - He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to continue living or not, the pain was unbearable. His body was drenched in sweat, his skin pale, and his breath came in ragged gasps, and Ramsay wasn’t done. He wanted more. He needed to hear Theon beg, to hear him plead for the mercy that would never come.

Ramsay brought out a thin iron rod, heated in the fire until it glowed red-hot. He held it up, letting Theon see it, letting him anticipate the pain to come. “It's getting rather cold in here, don't you think? And you're all naked... Let me heat you up a little!” Ramsay exclaimed with a wicked grin.

“Please… Please, no more!” Theon sobbed, his voice barely audible through the tears. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Ramsay’s grin only widened as he pressed the hot iron against Theon’s thigh. The stench of burning flesh filled the air as Theon screamed louder than ever, his entire body shaking with agony. Ramsay watched with dark satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with twisted delight as Theon writhed in pain beneath him.

But then... The bastard went on to remove that worthless little prick of his... And Theon Greyjoy lost consciousness from the agony.

With Winterfell reclaimed once more, Roose Bolton had reason to celebrate, and so did the Crown, who not only appointed him Warden of the North; but offered his bastard son the legitimisation every bastard dreamt of; Ramsay Snow was no more - Ramsay Bolton finally took over - And Roose was going to make a special trip to tell him just that.

The grand hall of Winterfell had been transformed for the feast. Lord Bolton, as imposing as ever, entered, met with a display of power and wealth. Y/N had spared no expense in preparing a lavish meal - His last meal. The long table was covered with roasted meats, warm bread, and jugs of dark wine. The hall glowed with the light of torches and hearths, and a low hum of music filled the air.

Ramsay stood at the head of the table, his face a mask of restraint, as his father entered. Katrina was seated beside him, regal and defiant, her eyes never leaving Roose's cold figure.

Roose barely acknowledged her at first, his eyes fixed on Ramsay. "You've done well, Ramsay." Roose remarked, his tone devoid of warmth as he took his seat. "Winterfell is yours. You’ve managed not to disgrace the name I gave you, for once." as harsh as ever. "Now, you are truly Ramsay Bolton." with that, he threw the letter at his son.

That letter had arrived from King's Landing just that day - Ramsay Snow truly was no more. He had been legitimized by the King's royal decree. He was now Ramsay Bolton, the only living true son of Lord Bolton, no longer the Bastard of Bolton. This was everything Ramsay had ever desired — Power, status, and legitimacy.

This was it - He had the Dreadfort, he had the Bolton name, and he had Y/N. He had everything he ever wanted in his grasp.

It was time to take one step further; He will be the son of Lord Bolton no more - He will be Lord Bolton.

Ramsay smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, father.”

But as the feast began, Roose turned his attention to Katrina, eyeing her in a manner that made Ramsay’s blood boil. The cold Lord of the Dreadfort spoke of her as though she were little more than a breeding sow, not even present in the room.

“She’s a Stark.” Roose said dismissively between bites of food. “Strong bloodline - But don’t let her think she has power of Winterfell, Ramsay - She’s just a woman after all. Her worth is in her womb, in the heirs she can give you. Many heirs... Strong boys to continue our line.”

Y/N’s face twisted with fury at the crude comment, and Ramsay’s fist clenched beneath the table. He had never been a man to hide his anger well, but for a moment, he restrained himself. His eyes flickered toward his sweetling, and he could see her seething. Roose's words had wounded her pride, and that was something Ramsay would never allow. He spoke ill of her far too many times - But he will speak no more.

After a few more tense exchanges that he hadn't even heard, Ramsay stood and moved toward his father, his expression darkening. “You’ve always been so wise, father.” Ramsay said in a soft voice, though the undercurrent of malice was undeniable. “And I have always sought your approval.”

Roose raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious of the sudden shift in his son's demeanor, but before he could react, Ramsay pulled him into an embrace, feigning affection. "But I’m afraid it’s time for you to step aside." Ramsay whispered into his father's ear. "I am Lord Bolton now."

In one swift motion, Ramsay plunged a dagger deep into Roose’s gut. The older man gasped in shock and the sharp pain of the twist, eyes wide with disbelief. He tried to pull away, but Ramsay held him close, continuing to twist the blade cruelly, to make him feel the same pain he always did. The hall fell into stunned silence as the Lord of the Dreadfort staggered backward, blood pouring from the wound.

“Goodbye, father.” Ramsay sneered as Roose collapsed to the ground, his hands desperately clutching at the bleeding wound. Ramsay’s eyes shifted to Meleys, the red wolf that had been protectively waiting at Y/N’s side. “Meleys.” he called, his voice cold as winter’s night. The wolf moved with deadly grace, approaching Roose with glowing, hungry eyes. With one swift leap, Meleys tore into Roose's already weakened form, ripping flesh from bone as blood pooled on the stone floor, her red fur mingling with his red blood.

Y/N watched the scene unfold with a dark satisfaction in her eyes, not even realising she was grinning. There was no remorse, no sorrow— Only cold justice and triumph. She had grown ruthless, just as life had molded her to be. And now, her tormentor was dead. She felt no pity for Roose Bolton. He had betrayed her family, destroyed everything she once held dear. His death was a small payment for the suffering he had caused.

As the last breath escaped Roose’s lips, Y/N turned to Ramsay. “He deserved worse.” she said softly.

Ramsay smiled. “I thought so too, but I wanted to give you a special gift."

Katrina’s lips curved into a small, bitter smile. “Truth is - While I was in King’s Landing, I took a potion - Something to ensure I would never bear children. I almost died, and the pain was excruciating, but it paid off. As a prisoner, I couldn’t allow anyone to use me for my bloodline - As their political pawn and breeding-stock." she let out an empty chuckle. "I never wanted heirs anyway - And neither did you."

Ramsay stared at her for a moment, processing the words. Slowly, his smile returned, but this time it was something different — Almost relieved. “You clever, clever kitten.” he murmured, stroking her cheek, painting her skin with the blood of his father. “No babes, no risk of you dying in childbirth, no squalling brats to annoy me. You’ve just made everything so much easier for the both of us.” he grinned all sultry and enticing. "I never could resist you."

Katrina chuckled softly, leaning into his touch. “I am yours, Ramsay. Yours and yours alone. No one will ever take that from you.”

Ramsay’s hand trailed down to her throat, his thumb brushing over her pulse. “Good.” he whispered, his voice low and possessive. “Because I’ve never wanted to share you with anyone.”

Katrina looked into his eyes, seeing the madness, the obsession, but also the devotion that lurked beneath. She knew she had tamed the beast within him, at least enough to keep him by her side. Ramsay had given her everything — Her home, her revenge, and even himself — And in return, she had given him herself, Always and Forever.

"I've got something to show you." the man dragged her back into her chamber, and showed her the beautiful Stark flag gently swaying with the wind. "Perfect view." he stood behind her, his arms around her waist holding her in a tight embrace, his chin resting on her shoulder. "How do you feel being back home, Lady Stark?" the closeness was intoxicating him, suffocating him - And he was craving more.

"Perfect, now that you're here with me." her innocently genuine comment made the man instinctively tighten his grip on her; He wanted desperately to get lost in her heat.

She could feel his heat against her back, the possessiveness in the way his hands lingered at her hips. There was a tension in his touch, a dark hunger that sent a shiver down her spine. But she wasn’t afraid - She never was afraid of him. Instead, there was something else building inside her, something that had been growing for some time now. She was craving his touch more than she needed air to breathe.

Y/N turned slowly to face him, her eyes locking with his. There was a storm in those gorgeous icy blue eyes of his, one that both excited and thrilled her. She could feel her heart racing in her chest, the tension between them palpable, suffocating.

"Ramsay." she spoke in a tender whisper, filled with curiosity and desire. "What do boys and girls do together when they grow up?"

His breath hitched as he remembered the many times he had teased her about that when they were younger; He loved toying with her innocence. The way Ramsay looked at her, the way his fingers brushed along her waist, set her heart racing in a way she didn’t fully understand.

"Show me." she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation and need.

Ramsay’s smirk widened, and without warning, he pushed her back against the bed, his hands gripping her waist firmly. His touch was rough, possessive, and it sent a wave of heat coursing through her veins. His lips hovered inches from hers, teasing, taunting, as he held her there, trapped between him and the comfortable bed underneath her.

"You want it, don’t you?" he whispered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "My sweet, greedy kitten… You’ve wanted this all along... You've been craving my touch for so long..."

Y/N’s breath came in short, sharp gasps as his words sent a flush of heat and arousal through her body. She didn't know what he was doing to her, but she wanted this... The way his mere words stirred her insides... She was nervous and excited to see what else she could feel... With his breath warm against her lips, and his body pressed against hers.

"Yes." she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, her pride crumbling beneath the weight of her desire for him

"Have you been touching yourself, thinking of me, sweetling?" Ramsay’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and he leaned in closer, his lips brushing hers in the lightest of kisses before pulling back again, teasing her mercilessly. "So greedy." he murmured, his voice full of dark amusement, watching that precious blush of hers. "I’ve barely touched you, and already you’re begging for more."

She let out a soft whimper of frustration, her hands gripping his shoulders as she tried to pull him closer, but he held her firmly in place, refusing to give in just yet. His lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, and she could feel the heat pooling in her belly, the need for him growing stronger with every passing second. "Ramsay..." she whined out his name, her voice thick with need. "Stop teasing me... You're so cruel..."

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "But where’s the fun in that, my little naughty kitty-cat?" his hands slid lower, teasing her waist, his touch light and maddeningly slow. She could feel her pulse quickening, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the anticipation built to an unbearable crescendo. He knew exactly what he was doing to her — Knew how much she wanted him, how much she needed him — And he reveled in it and the power he held over her.

"You’re mine, Y/N. Forever and Always." Ramsay growled softly, his voice thick with possessiveness. "And I will make sure you never forget who you belong to."

He finally gave in to her silent pleas, his lips crashing down on hers with a fierce, demanding intensity. Y/N moaned sweetly into the kiss, her hands tangling in his dark hair as she pulled him closer, desperate for more. The scorching heat between them was electric, a wildfire that had been building for far too long, and now that it had been unleashed, there was no stopping it.

Ramsay’s hands roamed her body with a possessive hunger, his touch rough and insistent, but she didn’t care — She wanted this, needed this. She had been denying herself for too long, and now, in the darkness of her home, with the snow falling outside and the fire crackling behind them, she finally let go and embraced his hedonism.

When he pulled back, his breath heavy, Ramsay smirked down at her, his eyes dark with satisfaction. She looked so kissable, so needy, so innocent and in need of corruption.

"Such a greedy little kitten... All for me..." he teased, his voice low and full of dark amusement. "Just as I always knew you would be." his whisper was husky and sultry. "Insatiable, greedy, needy... Only for me."

Y/N glared weakly at him, blushing through the timidness of a demure maiden in all her glory, purer than the Maiden, and far more beautiful than the Moon herself - And she was burning with desire that was not even close to being satisfied. "And whose fault is that?" she shot back, her voice breathless.

Ramsay chuckled darkly, leaning in to nip at her lower lip, sending another shiver down her spine. "Mine, of course. I love spoiling my haughty little sweetling." he admitted, his voice full of dark pride and impure thought. "The night is not long enough for all the things I want to do to you..."

In the aftermath of countless betrayals and bloodshed, the North was finally restored to its rightful rulers - House Stark. Y/N Stark, with the aid of her Lord Husband, Ramsay Bolton, had reclaimed Winterfell - She united the world once more with a claim as strong as that of the previous King in the North, her dear brother, the Young Wolf, Robb Stark; She became Queen in the North, ruling with a wisdom and wit, aided by the ruthless strategies of her beloved Ramsay - And even more surprisingly, the aid of her little brothers, who had survived Theon's siege - They were brought back by Meera and Jojen Reed.

Theon Greyjoy, now a broken man, lived as "Reek" — A forever shattered reflection of the once-proud yet pathetic Ironborn prince. He became Ramsay's pitiful plaything, his mind too far gone to remember even his own true name.

Far away in the Eyrie, Sansa Stark took over the Vale after Sandor had to throw her Lady aunt, Lysa Arryn, through the Moon Door after she dared attack his beloved songbird out of sheer jealousy - Sansa was far more beautiful than Lysa ever was. The she-wolf willingly married Sandor Clegane out of love, feeling safe and sound in his strong, protective embrace for the first time since she left home. Sansa became Warden in the East, and Y/N's eternal ally, just as their Catelyn and Lysa used to be... As Ned and Jon used to be...

The direwolves returned to the North as well, filling the halls of Winterfell with the howl of 'home' once more. Though Grey Wind was dead, and Ghost was loyally protective Jon at Castle Black, everyone else replaced the Stark siblings for Y/N, whenever she missed her sweet brothers and sisters a little too much. The family was sort-of reunited... The pack survived... But at what cost?

Across the Narrow Sea, Daenerys Targaryen, the true Heir to the Crown, laid her claim over King's Landing, with the aid of her dragons and Tyrion Lannister as her Hand; Cersei Lannister and her devil-spawn child were no more; Myrcella had married the Prince of Dorne and happily remained there, whilst Tommen was more than willing to go to his bride, Margaery Tyrell, and live in the peace and prosperity of Highgarden. No doubt, the happiest was Jaime Lannister, who happily married Brienne of Tarth and returned to Casterly Rock as the Warden of the West, enjoying, for once, a normal life, away from the drama of the Crown, and all that his father and sister brought along.

With peace finally settling over Westeros, Daenerys married Jon - Who found out was actually Aegon Targaryen, the only living son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell;

Together they united in A Song of Ice and Fire.

And what became of the little rat of Winterfell? Arya hadn't stepped in Westeros of ages - She was living her best life, traveling West of Westeros, discovering what was never discovered, venturing into the unknown, and exploring to her heart's content. She was the happiest she could ever be. Perhaps, some day, she would return, homesick - Until then, she will become Nymeria of the Rhoynar and sail into the vast horizon.

The terrible Winds of Winter had dissipated, and the Dream of Spring nurtured blooming hope and joy into the people of Westeros once more.

[ssentimentals]

worth a bet {yoon jeonghan}

pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

prompt: song 'whatsaheart' by snakelike, lyrics 'don't even look at anyone else when i'm here'

warnings: nsfw (minors, i'll bite your hands off if you don't skip this work!), smut is not very detailed

this reception is important for the business, jeonghan repeats under his breath. projects need money and investors need to have their asses licked and while jeonghan is the one who does the, figuratively speaking, 'licking' part, he still hates it with burning passion. he can also, however, admit that it's so much better to work on something when you're secured financially, so with a fake smile on his face and a tightly gripped glass of wine in his hand, he makes rounds amongst all known investors here, repeating a tailored to perfection speech time after time. thankfully, he's not the only one doing this. jeonghan quickly glances to the other side of the room and sure enough you are there, twirling your hair for a pretty old couple.

it's good to have you as a partner; jeonghan is a competitive guy and he can easily admit that you are good and can give him run for his money without even trying hard. the only person who can hold their own against his banter, you made his usual life ten times more interesting with your arrival. jeonghan, despite all the teasing, likes you. likes how confident you are, how you always have something to say back to him, how you work hard and don't back down from any challenge. a certain type of thrill runs up his veins when you smirk, when your eyes never leave his as if you're saying 'get me'. and jeonghan is not the one to fall for this, but you are so good that investors are ready to eat from your hands and what is that if not a challenge?

'you're gonna drill a hole in her face or will finally gather up your courage to ask her out?' seungcheol asks, coming closer once jeonghan finished his conversation with one of the investors. 'you know that whole office placed bets on you two, right?'

jeonghan tsks, rolling his eyes. 'and who is currently winning?'

seungcheol chuckles. 'who do you think? i obviously picked you.'

jeonghan doesn't want to think about this; he is well aware that tension between you two is very obvious to everyone else. he also is well aware of this tension being largely sexual.

'i bet on you, but not because you have the most courage out of you two.' seungcheol says, taking a sip of his cognac. he turns to jeonghan and looks over his shoulder at something. 'but because i know what a petty and possessive bastard you are, hannie.'

jeonghan knows he shouldn't look. he knows that what is waiting for him there will not be nice but he still turns anyway. and surely enough you are there, looking stunning in that champagne color slip dress, talking animatedly to some gentleman. you stand too close; it's very easy to get handsy with you within this distance and of course man in front of you uses that chance.

'i am not going to create a scene over some guy touching her,' jeonghan hisses. create a scene is the only thing he wants but even he knows his limits. 'she is not mine.'

seungcheol hums in acknowledgement. 'i mean, she could be.'

and ah, isn't that an interesting thought to deep dive into? you being his? you having your eyes on him? your pretty smiles, your warm hugs, your witty comebacks - all of that being for him? jeonghan is not a liar, he can be honest with himself and say that he wants it. maybe more than he thought, considering how he can't stand watching other man having his hand on your lower back. you're smiling and maybe even flirting - jeonghan can't tell for sure from this angle but he certainly doesn't like how the man is eyeing you up.

'now we're talking.' seungcheol says and smirks, when jeonghan silently hands him his glass of wine. 'go, win me fifty bucks, hannie! good luck.'

jeonghan thinks how much jail time he'll get for choking his own boss. calculates and decides it's not worth it. 'fuck you. and i don't need any luck.'

jeonghan knows when he is liked and he knows you like him back, too. he's confident when he strikes up close, smiling innocently and inserting himself between you and the other man. jeonghan doesn't really care if it's subtle or not, his hand reaches out for yours automatically and when you let him interlace your fingers together, he knows he's won. 'i'm afraid i have to snatch this beauty away from you,' jeonghan's voice is sweet but his gaze isn't. 'for any additional information you can always consult choi seungcheol.'

'felt challenged, yoon jeonghan?' you ask, amused, even when you let him pull you away. 'thought i'd score more investors than you?'

jeonghan huffs, tightening his grip around you. 'i can score more investors without twirling my hair like you do.' he gently ushers you to the corner next to the bar, least crowded place here. 'and without letting anyone get handsy with me.'

you arch your eyebrow at this, mirth dances in your eyes. 'watching me an awful lot, don't you?'

jeonghan can lie or he can be honest and help seungcheol win those fifty bucks. 'i do, yes. used to having your eyes on me, so. guess the habit stayed.'

it's bold and you like it, he can tell. your lips stretch into a pretty smile and jeonghan can't help but lean in, loving the way your eyes are on him and only him. it gives him an unexplainable power boost, the one he can get drunk off.

'don't skit around,' you chide him gently. 'you wanna have my eyes on only you? if you wanna do something just do it, jeonghan. you've got the balls, don't you?'

jeonghan can do many things to you but none of them are appropriate to do in front of other people. he only cocks his head to the side of the exit and when you nod, he pulls you with him. he leaves this reception with the prettiest and smartest woman, who had all men here wrapped around her pinky. he leaves this reception with you and jeonghan trembles from the thought of finally getting to have you. his mind races with all the questions: where to touch first? where to kiss first? how do you like it? which way do you want it?

'i knew you'd be the jealous type,' you break the silence as jeonghan leads you to his hotel room. 'are you possessive as well?'

jeonghan chuckles, opening the door with a key. 'you don't know even half of it, baby.'

he is, that's the thing. that's why his grip on your hips is just shy away from bruising, that's wh his kiss is more about claiming than anything else. jeonghan kisses like he wants to prove a point, like he wants to suck the soul out of you and take it with him. your fingers in his hair and your sharp tugs make him groan and pull you tighter to his body. 'what did you even think, hm?' jeonghan whispers into your ear, hiking your dress up to have more access to your skin. 'twirling your hair like that for men who don't even know you?' he hikes you up, letting you wrap your legs around him, carrying you to the bed. 'you think they can handle you?'

he doesn't expect any answer. jeonghan throws your dress somewhere on the floor and smirks at the way you hurriedly undress him too. you look so pretty like this - lips red from kisses, eyes crazed with desire, cheeks and neck rosy. he doesn't let you touch him, no it's not the time for that. his hands are itching to make you tremble beneath him and he puts his sole focus on making you moan more often, louder, forget about everything and let yourself go.

'hannie,' you whimper once he inserts one finger in. 'i- more.'

'gotta move for me, baby,' jeonghan answers, adding one more finger and kneeling down. 'gotta take what you want yourself.'

it's a surreal experience, to be honest. to watch how you move your hips, circle them to get what you want, how you loudly groan once jeonghan attaches his lips on your clit. he loves it. loves how responsive you are, how you are not ashamed to ask for more and show him how much you like it. jeonghan is addicted to your aborted hip motions, your whimpers of his name. he actually didn't mean to tease but he can't help it: you are so whiny, how can you expect him not to want to hear more of these lovely sounds?

'i'm gonna kick you if you don't get inside me right now,' you grit out as he adds third finger. 'i am not coming without you.'

'aw, my baby wants to come with me only?' jeonghan teases, licking his lips. he is painfully hard but watching you writhe on the sheets is more important.

'your baby will not be your baby if you don't-'

'i don't like threats like that,' jeonghan cuts you off, kissing you hard, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

he listens to you. jeonghan fumbles for a condom, knows that all hotel rooms have one stashed somewhere and swears under his breath as he watches you lazily finger yourself while he gets ready. this picture will haunt him forever, he thinks, lining himself up before you.

'fuck,' jeonghan bites his lower lip at the sensation, groaning. 'holy fuck.' it feels so good that he can't keep it inside: 'so good, baby, so fucking good.'

'hannie,' you moan at the first thrust, clutching at him. 'faster, i'm so-'

close, he knows. embarrassingly enough he is close too. your tight heat does not help him to keep his composure but he'll be damned if he doesn't make you see stars, so he grips your thighs and starts moving as quick as he can. you are a siren underneath him, calling out his name, making him want to fall into you without looking back. it's all too much and not enough at once, jeonghan holds back for the last remaints of his sanity to help you reach your peak, gritting his teeth at you tightening around him. his name on your lips is a wonderful music, he keeps on thrusting even when you're coming, watches as you shake and moan, arching your back in a too tempting way for him to not lean in and kiss your chest. it doesn't take him long to follow you, he comes with a quiet groan hidden in your neck, loving the way you hug him close as his hips stutter. he's sweaty and breathes heavily with effort to keep himself up but jeonghan feels like he's on a cloud nine when your lips ghost around his face wherever you can reach.

'hey,' you say once you make eye contact.

'hey,' jeonghan voices out, still inside you. 'want me to pull out?'

'what a romantic you are,' you chuckle but then shake your head. 'no, not yet. let's stay like that for a while?'

jeonghan smiles softly. he reaches out and fixes your sweaty hair, leaning in to place sweet kiss on your forehead. high was high but this? this is even better.

'we can,' he says quietly. 'whatever you want, really.'

'twirling my hair worked on you, huh?' you joke, smiling brightly.

jeonghan rolls his eyes but doesn't even bother denying it. 'yeah, it did.'

a/n: this work is for hannie's birthday and for @rwithkny-deactivated20240928 (i know you didn't say jeonghan in your suggestions but it's his birthday and i couldn't miss it!). i haven't written smut in a long time, god, i hope this is not very bad, let me know! - nini

my seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here

[delaber]

Firestarter pt. 2 (Loki x Reader)

Summary: After two months of amazing hate-fucking, Loki accidentally lets his newfound feelings show - and suddenly, the anger’s back in her eyes. Only this time, she has the upper hand.

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, pining

Words: 5K

Find part 1 here

"Yessss that's it," he hisses and smacks her ass.

It's two months later and they're still at it - not every night, but almost.

He'd otherwise feared it a one time thing with the way she'd so quickly recovered the first night after he'd pulled three astonishing orgasms out of her, but had been positively thrilled to find her yelling at him on his doorstep the very next evening. He honestly cannot even remember what he did to upset her that much, but he knows it must've made her really angry because he vividly remembers three minutes later with his hands full of ass and his tongue buried inside of her.

She's calmed down since then; he doesn't have to provoke her to get her wet anymore but they still fuck like it's the end of the world.

It's the rawest, dirtiest, most destructive sex he's ever had and it's magnificent, carnal, rough! He slaps her ass as hard as he can, eats her beautiful cunt, forces his fingers inside of her until she screams his name, lets her tie him up while she tastes all of him.

It's been two secretive months of bite marks and purple tints on his skin. Of long, red scratches down his back and raven-black hair being pulled out in the most delicious of ways.

She - is - incredible! He wants to cum - fuck, she deserves the praise!

He lets her know.

"Fuck me, Loki," she hisses his name the way that he loves and it sends tingles all the way down to his balls, makes his head float up to the heavens.

"As you please," he flips them around, lies her down on her back, towers over her and admires her pliant body with his hand caressing down over her soft stomach. He still cannot believe he's this lucky!

He pushes himself back inside of her with force, watches her sweet little face contract with pleasure as her mouth falls open in an inaudible sigh.

"Darling girl," he hisses and feels her tighten around him as he diligently slides into her silk. "You feel amazing!" He leans forwards, pinches her beautiful nipple, sucks on her jawline, ruts hit hips against her to the vulgar sound of her hypnotising wetness swallowing him whole.

"Oh," she moans and he almost shivers when her eyelids close halfway with every meticulously-placed thrust of his hips while he moves with control, careful not to let go and cut the moment short - he never has her afterwards...

"Loki," she hums ever so sweetly in his ear, scrapes her nails down over his already raw-clawed shoulder blades, wraps her legs around his back, contracts around him while he's concentrating on the entirety that is her.

He saved her, he thinks to himself and gasps when his seidr begins to glow at the memory. He's thought of it a million times already and still, the mere sight of the scar on her shoulder makes his chest expand - expand - expand!

He connects his forehead with hers, finds her wide eyes and slows his hips down to a tender pace.

He was worthy enough to save her!

Their connection feels like something resembling faith. Like branches weaved at the foot of Yggdrasil, and he sensually rolls his hips and kisses her deeply, fucks her like a lover.

It's suddenly slow and caring. Soft and all-consuming. She seems to love it, and without warning, she's raking her soft finger pads through his long hair, licking his throat like a kitten while he expertly slowly guides himself in and out of her tight wetness. She whispers his name affectionately and everything glows brighter than before.

"Darling," his tongue slides into her mouth again, caresses her lazily, doubles as a non-verbal whisper telling her that he feels the same. He feels the same - and she immediately picks up on the fluorescent seidr that's filling up his chest cavity; she gasps, flutters around him, and she comes - loudly!

"Oh God!" she closes her eyes and tips over the edge while her perfect inner walls contract violently and squeeze him tight.

He's never heard such beautiful, long moans before as her fingers grab onto his curls and she gently pulls him with her, fills him up with sparks while he fucks her slowly.

He can feel every nerve ending in his body being pulled taut as a flash bow as his seidr vibrates and he finally spills inside her embracing heat to the music of her breaths against his ear.

"My sweet girl," he growls as he involuntarily falls down from his high and pulls her close while she whimpers like a wounded animal. "My goddess!" he kisses her throat, rakes his teeth across her humid skin, trails his hand down between them, ready to spoil her over and over again with his fingers, his tongue, his cock! She deserves it all and he's desperate to have her in his room a little longer. He wants her to stay forever.

He can feel the intense bond between them tightening and he slowly starts moving his hips again while his fingers find her clit.

A pang of warmth strikes his belly when he looks at her pretty face, and he cannot help the desperately sincere "you are so beautiful," that escapes his lips as he leans down to kiss her. "I want you to spend the night."

The change on her face comes in a matter of milliseconds. Suddenly, the all-consuming bliss is replaced. First, by confusion and not even moments later by the scorching anger he knows so well. "What the fuck, Loki??" she pushes at his clammy chest, "what are you doing?"

At first, he's not sure if they've resumed their regular game of cat and mouse so he keeps toying with her delicate clit the way that he knows she loves. "What am I doing?" he licks her throat and teases her asshole with his middle finger, "I'm making you come - what does it look like I'm doing?"

"No!" she pushes him again and he finally lets her escape from between his legs when he realises that she's not joking. "What the fuck was that?!"

Confused, he watches her stand from the bed. "...I'm not following you?"

"You're slow-fucking me now?" she hisses as she quickly pulls on her top, hides away her body as if he did something detestable. "Forehead to forehead like you're in love with me or something?"

It stings. "Excuse me?!"

She huffs as she forcefully yanks on her jeans. "I thought we agreed on what this was!"

"We do," he positions himself on the edge of the bed with his hands grabbing onto the sheets so tightly his knuckles turn white with humiliation. "I don't understand what the issue here is."

"Did you enchant me?"

"Enchant you?" He barks, offended. "Is that what you think of me?"

"No - I..." She huffs and looks as if she's about to pull out her own hair in frustration. "You did something different!” She says accusingly.

"I slowed down."

"Well I didn't like it!"

"You didn't like it?" He repeats, baffled. It's his most stunning performance yet; mostly due to the way she so beautifully reacted to him, and now she's trying to make him believe that she didn't like it?! "Excuse me but I'm going to have to disagree with that. I made you come harder than ever before; don't pretend you didn't enjoy it."

She sends him an annoyed side eye. "I was caught up in the moment."

"So was I!"

"That's not the point!"

"Indulge me then!"

They stare at each other, more confused than anything else and the silence between them is eating away at him.

"Tell me what I did," he pleads with a desperation that's unlike him while he instinctively reaches out for her hand although he knows it's a bad idea, "- so I won't repeat it next time."

He's right; it is a bad idea, because she immediately pushes his hand away with new-found flames in her eyes. "There won't be a next time," she says determinedly and with that, she gathers her shoes and storms out the door. Slams it shut.

***

She avoids him. Turns on her heel every time he enters a room, looks straight through him when they pass each other in the hallway, acts like they've barely even spoken a word - and he hates it! Hates the desperation, the emptiness of her face when he's the only one in the compound that knows her like this.

It reminds him of his lonely childhood when he would walk the golden halls of the palace alone, desperate for an ounce of the attention Thor was naturally given.

He gets the sudden urge to cause rampage like he did back then. Break treasured possessions, spread lies. But he's painfully aware that he's only at the tower as long as the Avengers want him there, so he behaves himself and tries to shove down the lonely howls from inside his chest.

***

Four days and seven excruciating encounters have to pass before she finally, graciously stands still long enough to let him speak to her.

It's a rainy afternoon and he's reading in the big winged chair by the fireplace when she unexpectedly comes into view.

She's walking back from the gym with her gaze fixed on the blonde man next to her, and as per usual, Loki's every muscle tightens by the sound of her voice alone, but this time it's for a whole different reason too because Steve Rogers is shirtless in all his virtuous glory and she's giggling at everything he's saying as they walk straight past Loki and disappear into the kitchen without sparing him a glance.

The silence that follows is deafening.

He knows that Rogers is the most vanilla man on Midgard - and definitely way too boring to satisfy her in bed - but the two of them have always been a little too chummy for his taste, so when Loki faintly hears Rogers call her sweetheart from the other side of the wall, there's no doubt he has to do something, so he pushes open the double doors to the kitchen, praying to the allfathers that he looks like a threat to the mighty Captain.

It's evident that Loki, ever so rudely, has just disturbed Rogers in the middle of a sentence but the guy is still so annoyingly polite that he nods respectfully in greeting.

Meanwhile, she only briefly looks up from her sandwich-in-the-making to shoot Loki an unimpressed glance before her eyes fall back down to her plate with a theatrical scoff. It makes Steve Rogers look curiously between the two of them with his eyebrows knitted closely together.

Loki gets the feeling that she's putting on an uncomfortable show only to get him to leave, but he's determined to talk to her so he stands his ground and starts flickering through the compound's tea selection achingly slowly just to piss her off.

"- what I mean is -" Steve Rogers continues as if Loki hasn't just barged in with daggers in his eyes. "I can teach you that leg takedown if you'd like? I'm sure Buck wouldn't mind sparring with Sam again some time later this week."

Loki pauses at Earl Grey and lets his gaze slip over to her.

"Yeah?" she hums with a cute little smile, "that sounds like fun. What about Tuesday?"

Her words have Steve Rogers nodding with excitement as he grabs his uninspiring ham-and-cheese sandwich from off the kitchen counter and walks towards the dining table in the next room. Even his tastebuds are bland. "It's a deal, sweetheart," he says.

Sweetheart. Loki's going to vomit.

He contains himself long enough to ensure the man's out of earshot until he angrily hisses out a "What are you doing?". He bites his tongue to stop himself from asking about whether she's interested in fucking the Captain or not. He has to tread carefully now that he finally has her on her own.

She sighs before looking up at him and he has to bite back a gulp when their eyes finally meet for longer than a tenth of a second. "...What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want to talk to you. I want to know what horrible thing I did to have you ignoring me like this!"

"I already told you," she crosses her arms over her chest. "You've gone soft."

"...Soft?" He repeats in disbelief while staring at her. Had this been any other situation, he might've even laughed. He's never been referred to as soft before. "Excuse me but did you hit your head?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don't pretend you haven't noticed."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Loki..." she places her palms on the stone table top that serves as a physical barrier between them and looks him straight in the eye. It's dominatingly beautiful and it gives him the chills. "You've gone from hate-fucking me like a demon in heat to calling me your girl and telling me I'm beautiful."

"As if I would want to bed someone who looks like a trout!" He bites back, suddenly annoyed with her. She's right, of course, but it's not like he's about to let her know.

She responds to his clap-back with yet another sigh. "I thought we agreed it was a casual affair. No strings. And, granted, I hold some of the blame too; I probably should've stopped you when I started noticing your attitude towards me changing - I wasn't sure of anything, of course, but the slow-fucking?" She shoots him an unimpressed glance. "That one takes the cake!"

His mouth goes dry. "I don't understand what you're implying," he lies and it makes her scoff.

"Why can't you just admit that maybe the sex meant more to you than it did to me?"

He's taken aback by her bluntness. But it's her definitive use of the past tense that truly throws him off. He doesn't even have it in him to pretend otherwise, and with his silence, he's involuntarily admitting that the sex did indeed mean something to him. Exactly what, he's not sure of but something. He tries not to let it show.

"Loki," she cocks her head to the side with a lick of her lips and it makes it harder to pretend. "I'm not the girl for you. If you want to play house, I suggest you go find somebody else."

***

He dreams of black cats. Of Hel. Of feeling like the smallest man on earth while the Bifrost splinters before him and takes away the bridge to everything he loves.

It's been six days without a knock on his door. He shouldn't care that it's been this long - he doesn't, he constantly tells himself but keeps replaying their last conversation while the teeth of Fenrir sink into his lungs. He saved her - is that why she let him fuck her? Because she felt obligated to? Because of debt? It makes his heart burn.

"Loki."

He looks up at his brother and blinks a few times. Truth be told, he'd completely forgotten he was even there. "...What?"

"You're not listening."

"Yes, yes I was," he racks his brain for the last details he'd registered from Thor's gripping tale, but suspects he's been zoned out for at least five minutes.

Thor knits his eyebrows together, tilts his head disgustingly compassionately. "You're quiet," he states flatly and looks almost concerned. It makes the hairs on the back of Loki's neck prickle. He misses when Thor was less intuitive - before the Avengers, when all he cared about were tits and battle and wielding that stupid hammer.

"I don't remember asking your opinion."

"Just stating the obvious," Thor shrugs and thankfully goes back to the lamb chop on his plate, "one thing being that you're usually plotting something when you're this quiet - though something tells me your head is somewhere completely different as of late."

"Well if you want to keep yours connected to the rest your body, I suggest you keep your mouth shut."

His brother leans in close and looks as if he's about to say something vulgar. "It's her again, isn't it?" he whispers as if he doesn't dare speak her name.

"Thor," Loki warns with a sharp side-eye.

"You can tell me."

"I'm not going to."

"Why not?"

"Because you're being nosey."

"Can't I take an interest in my brother's well-being?"

"No. Now shut it!"

"I think she likes you."

It hurts more than he's willing to admit. "Thor!"

"But I do!"

"Shut up!"

He doesn't listen; "are you in love with her?"

A burning sea of vulnerability washes over him right in front of his brother's eyes while he desperately treads water. "She should be so lucky!" Loki hisses as a reflex and immediately feels his stomach churn when his brother grins and lifts his eyebrows in amusement.

"You are!"

Loki points his knife towards Thor, angrier than he's been in a while. "I'm only going to say this once! Stick your nose in my business and I will end you!”

***

They're on a mission in Vienna when Loki's knocked unconscious.

He doesn't remember much apart from an object hitting him on his upper back, a scream of his name - and suddenly, he's back on the rumbling quinjet with a splitting head ache.

He awakes with a groan and coughs up something black and slimy that he immediately spits out on the floor. Charming.

He's dizzy and he's seeing double but he wishes it was his sense of smell that was wonky because he can almost taste his brother's armpits in the air and it's revolting.

"Thor," his voice is hoarse and he coughs again while trying to remember how he ended up here. "What the hell happened?"

With difficulty, he tries lifting his head but is immediately pushed backwards by a hand already resting on his shoulder.

"You hit your head," his brother mumbles from beside him, "I had to carry you back here."

"Well that's embarrassing," Loki mumbles and tries moving his head again but hisses when his neck tenses painfully.

"Lie still," a small voice beckons. It's lighter than his brother's; more delicate, feminine, and the well-known flip of his insides shows its ugly face. Small fingers gently rub his shoulder and first then does he realise that it's not his brother's hand that's resting on his body.

"You're here?" He asks, confused while trying to focus on a spot in the ceiling. "And here I thought we were busy ignoring each other."

"I can keep doing so if you want me to," she says defiantly but sits completely still.

"Be my guest!"

"...Erm," Thor clears his throat in second-hand embarrassement, stands up from his position on the floor and points over his shoulder, "I have to - uh - be over... there."

Smooth.

The fingers that are resting on Loki's body feel more intimate now that they're alone, and he wonders if she can feel it too because she slowly retracts her hand although he wishes she wouldn't. A painful reminder of how she feels.

"Why are you here?" he bites.

"Thor was completely out of it," she says hesitantly, "He thought you were dead. He needed me."

"Thor needed you?” He scoffs, “Well, Thor's not here now so I guess you can leave."

She sighs loudly, "Do you really want me to leave?"

"Yes," he lies. He can still feel the warm spot that her fingers have left behind on his shoulder. It's getting colder now. "You made things quite clear the other day. It was a casual accquaintance, nothing else. There's really no need for you to pity me like this."

"You're hurt."

"I'm hurt? Yes I'm fucking hurt! It feels as if a bloody wall fell on me!"

"That's not what I meant..."

He moves his head through the pain, focuses on her the best he can. "Are you seriously fishing for a compliment right now?"

"W-what?"

"Do you want me to admit to whatever it is you're implying? It won't happen because contrary to your belief, I'm not in love with you." Another lie. "I saved you, you let me fuck you. We're even."

"That's not..." she starts but doesn't end her sentence. Her chest is heaving in heavy pants but she's not saying anything and the tension is thick again. She looks defiant but there's something she's not telling him.

"Was there something else?"

"No, I-"

"Then tell me what happened to my head or be on your way."

"I don't know what happened," she mumbles and gets up from the floor without sparing him a glance. "I wasn't there."

***

"It's a concussion," the new Doctor states the obvious and Loki has to contain himself from rolling his eyes.

"Great, can I go now?" He feels vulnerable enough without the diagnosis, and he's already half-way out the door - away from the prying eyes of the rest of the team.

"Hold up, mr Odinson," the Doctor says and the name feels like another dagger in his back. Loki wants to strangle him. "In your condition, it's important to take precautions."

"Don't tell me we have to start pampering him now!" Stark huffs and Loki's about to snarl something nasty back at him when Thor interrupts:

"Like what, Doctor?"

The Doctor turns back to Loki. "To prevent your condition from worsening, it's important that you take it easy for a couple of days. No TV, no straining exercise. You need rest."

"Right..."

"That being said, you have to make sure you're woken up every two hours. Have someone ask you a simple question like your full name, your birthday, the name of your home town."

"My home town?" He sighs. He doesn't want to think of Asgard right now. He feels lonely enough as it is.

"Something like that," the Doctor brushes it off with a shrug. "Do you have someone who can help you?"

"I assure you, that won't be necessary," Loki tries impatiently. He wants to get out of there. "After all, I am a God."

He can practically hear her rolling her eyes from behind him before she speaks up. "It's fine, Doc," she sighs, "I'll do it."

***

They're lying side by side on his mattress. It's three in the morning and it's the first time she's even in his room for anything other than sex. It's not not pleasant to be lying side by side in the dark, it's just different and neither of them know what to say. He doesn't like that she volunteered. He would've preferred dying in his sleep over the roaring silence.

He sneaks a quick peak at her beauty and accidentally lets out a sigh he thought only Thor was capable of and it seems to bring her to life.

She blinks and rolls over to her side, looks at him with distance in her eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy..." he admits though he's not exactly sure if it's due to the concussion or being this close to her again.

"You should sleep," she says so achingly caring that it itches in his fingers to reach out and touch her. "- I'll make sure to wake you up every couple of hours and see if everything's okay."

He nods. "Sounds like you're in for a long night."

She gently shrugs and rolls onto her back again, stares back up at the ceiling. Her chest is rising and falling steadily and he doesn't understand how she can be so calm about the situation when it feels as if everything inside of him is burning with longing.

"Why did you volunteer?" the words tumble from his mouth without having been thought all the way through. "Why not just let Thor do it? He's my brother after all. He would've."

She chews her bottom lip, stares upwards as if stargazing. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

She sounds sincere and he cannot help the furrow of his eyebrows. "Why?"

"Why?" She asks slowly, hesitantly. "Well... you've seemed out of it lately.”

"And you think it's your fault," it comes out more like a sour statement rather than a curious question so he's surprised to see pain behind her eyes when she finally turns her attention back on him.

"I know it is."

"Don't flatter yourself. I already told you it was merely sex for me. It didn't mean anything," he lies and regrets he even asked her in the first place. He wants to sleep. To get everything overwith and not stay in this moment of torture with her lying in his bed, rejecting him. Again.

"Come on," she sighs, "can't we just be honest for once?"

"You say that as if you've been dishonest...?"

"I guess I have," she hesitates and for once, he actually holds his tongue while she considers her next words. "I - uh - I get defensive when people get to close," she shuffles and looks away in embarrassement. "I guess it was easier to just push you away than admit to either of us what was going on. I tried telling you on the quinjet,” she slowly turns her gaze back on him with her eyes darting across his face. His heart picks up its pace.

"What are you saying?"

"Loki," she sighs and closes her eyes again. Speaks so painfully slowly that he almost cannot take it. "- you got close... When you slowed down and loved me that night, I - I felt it all. What I've been trying to deny."

"Felt what?" He tries as slowly as his racing pulse will allow him to speak. He doesn't want to scare her away again by assuming anything.

"I like you," she finally admits. "A lot."

Surprisingly, he's not even relieved. With the rollercoaster he's been through since he first met her, he's not sure he dares believe it, and a few seconds of silence follow between them while he carefully contemplates and chooses his next words.

On her request, he finally decides on telling her the truth. "I guess it wouldn't be too surprising if I admitted to the same thing."

She moves her head a little closer to him and places her hand between them. The smallest hint of a smile is playing on her lips. "Not really..."

A stab of a reminding thought pinches him beneath his ribs and he has to ask her. "You're not just saying this because you think you owe it to me, are you?" he nods to the scar on her shoulder "because I saved your life."

"No?" she furrows her eyebrows, searches his face.

"I don't want you to feel indebted to me. Despite what I told you back then, there were no ulterior motives to my actions. You don't owe me anything. I just did it to save you. I just wanted you to be okay.”

"Loki, I don't feel indebted," she lightly shakes her head. She looks sincere. "- do you really not remember what happened in Vienna?"

He slowly shakes his head. "Not really. An object hitting me in the back and someone yelling my name. Otherwise nothing."

"I did the yelling," she gulps, "and that object? That was a hand grenade."

"A hand grenade?"

She nods. Her eyes never leave his face. "You, me and Thor had just entered the grand hall of the embassy when it happened. You'd strayed off to the side to admire some painting."

It sounds like him.

"- I was behind you and saw it happen. It landed before your feet and without thinking, I just... lurched. Grabbed you and hurled the two of us forwards. You hit a stone column head-first."

He pulls back his head in surprise when he realises. “…you saved my life?”

It makes his blood pressure drop.

"Don't say it like that," she whispers with her breath fanning over his knuckles. "I merely gave you a concussion. The grenade turned out to be a squib after all."

"You didn't know that," he moves a little closer to her. She saved him and she's still here, still lying in his bed. It's not out of debt, he realises. Not at all. She's there because she wants to. "Darling... I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," she mumbles and opens her palm as if to welcome him. "Just kiss me, okay? I've missed you."

Everything inside of him goes soft. He feels squishy and warm and comfortable, and he could look at her forever.

He extends his fingers, engulfs her small hand inside his and dismisses the tension of his neck until their lips finally meet.

It's the gentlest they've ever kissed; lips barely touching, but it's the most heartfelt, the most sincere.

"I'm sorry for how I acted," she mumbles quietly against his mouth. "I really, really like you. I wasn't sure how to deal with that."

"It's okay," he whispers back, "we've all done things we're not proud of."

"Can you forgive me?"

"Of course," he smiles softly and reclaims her lips with the hope that he can show her exactly how crazy he is about everything that is her. His angry Avenger, his fiery goddess.

She saved him.

He feels the emotions pour out of both of them as their kiss deepens and he swears he can feel the allfathers blessing him as he jumps head-first into the burning sun; he can run with the wolves, fly with the ravens. And if Hugin and Munin are watching him from the great beyond, they'll tell all of Asgard that he, Loki Laufeyson, was worthy enough to be saved by a Valkyrie.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

How about the towns people reacting to the farmer who despises joja. Like, think about it. The farmer left their soul sucking office job at joja behind only to see them again right across the bridge. I bet they would support the community centre out of spite.

They are normally a friendly and sweet person but the moment joja comes into the conversation they snap a little. Morris talks to them and their left eye twitches rapidly cuz this guy reminds them way too much of their old boss. They have dark dreams about the blinking lights of the work and rest lights and the bosses looming over them through the glass in their office.

Locals swear they see the light disappear from their eyes whenever they accidentally fish up a joja can.

Oh man, That's just about a perfect description of my OC Farmer. He is by nature a very kind and patient man, but every time he sees JojaMart, catching more trash with that logo on it, or sees people who use every means, even mean ones (remember that scene with Morris), to destroy the competition and become monopolists, he gets very sarcastic. Sometimes, it can be just pure rage.

But let's not talk about my OC, because the question here is about a neutral farmer 😅 So enjoy, dear anon!

SDV townies react to the Farmer who despises Joja:

Marlon's mind is more on protecting the Valley from monsters than on boycotting some store. He wouldn't have known about this until one day Farmer came in with a bunch of soda cans with the Joja logo on them, while swearing about the same logo. They told to the one-eyed adventurer that they had fished this cans of the mine waters at level 100. How these soda cans managed to end up in literal lava without burning or even deforming from the lava's temperature was a mystery to Marlon.

Stardew Valley has its own zest that makes the place unique, and according to Penny, JojaMart is ruining that uniqueness. Plus they constantly put promotions on the beer and ales they sell, which Pam just can't refuse. So Penny isn't too thrilled about Joja.co appearance in Pelican Town either.

How Willy understands them! There is already so much garbage floating in the sea from Joja's products that has endangered fish and other marine life. And the mart that was built here has only made the problem worse. So the old sailor will support the Farmer if they want to kick this corporation out of Pelican Town.

Not that George would care much where his wife bought the leek: from the farmers or from that huge store. After all, a leek is a leek no matter how you cooked it. Still, though, memories of his grandfather and his farm bring back fond memories of things that used to be both simpler and better. He's also annoyed by the loud music coming from the speakers in that supermarket, which is "supposed to attract customers" but distracts him from his nostalgic thoughts. Can't he have some quiet time in his own home anymore! If the Farmer wants to stage a boycott, then George will be the first of the participants!

Oh, this is so much fun! Abigail feel bad that she provokes Farmer on purpose, but it's not her fault that her friend gives such a funny reaction at any mention of Joja. "Look, Sam bought me a Joja cola, you want some?" *Possum hissing*

Haley thinks the Farmer is a fool. The only civilized supermarket in town, and Farmer looks at it as an insult to all humanity. Yes, the quality of the clothes leaves a lot to be desired, but there are a variety of sweets to choose from! And there's plenty goods for farming, too. The girl doesn't understand what Farmer's problem is.

Whoa whoa, easy, why the outburst of rage? What? Yeah, Alex bought a dozen eggs at JojaMart. After all, he needs protein. Hey! What's the Farmer doing? Give it back, why did they take the eggs?! If they wanted some egg, they could just ask! Wha?... Oh, the Farmer gave him three dozen eggs. These are from their farm? Uh, thank you. So big, and much better quality than he bought from Joja..... So, how's he gonna explain to Grandma that Alex now have three dozen eggs?

Gus sincerely hopes the Farmer doesn't vandalize his Saloon, at least as a sign of respect for the very owner of the establishment and his property. Because they've been looking at that Joja soda machine for too long. It's like they're trying to desiteng this poor vending machine. He may also have to take Joja Coke off the menu.

*Gasp* Hee-hee. Oh, Marnie can't stop laughing. To be honest, at first the young Farmer's angry stare and scolding caught her off guard and frightened her a little. But later, she can't stop giggling after every barbed comment towards Joja.co, their old boss and "colleagues".

Sheesh, wow. Sam would never have thought that a person could cringe like that at the mention of Joja. The young guitarist should think twice before opening a can of Joja Coke with Farmer standing next to him, because they will vaporize that very can with a look.

Jas already knows what natural resources are and has often heard from Miss Penny that many huge corporations often abuse and deplete these same resources. And this thought makes her sad. But she does not want to quarrel with anyone, so Jas will offer the Farmer to draw a poster together so that Joja will respect nature and makes products that do not harm animals and plants (spoiler: it won't work, but the Farmer was very touched by the girls’ idea).

Bad food? Bad store? But Mr/Mrs Farmer, why do you say that? Vincent doesn't really understand why they hate that store so much, where he often goes with his mother to visit his older brother and buy groceries. His mom even also buys him ice cream in the form of a dinosaur! Because dinosaur is so cool. What? Do they have a living dinosaur?! In a coop? Can he take a look please??? The farm is much cooler than this "Jodja'! Mom look, Mr/Mrs Farmer has a pet dinosaurs!

Oh, that whole blue trash things makes Leo and his bird family very sad. So he understands why the Farmer is so upset too. But the boy is not discouraged and wants to make a clean-up day together with Farmer, Linus and the parrots. Maybe the Joja people will see the beauty of nature and stop littering!

Oh, no, Farmer. You don't need to show so much negative emotion! Emily herself is not fond of Joja and their constant pollution of the environment with their waste, but absorbing so much anger and spreading it to others is not the best way to go about it. She does worry about the Farmer's mental state and will offer them meditation classes to get rid of the bad thoughts associated with the old job and Joja in general.

Shane would probably be the second person who truly hates Joja. Stupid, energy-sucking job, stupid boss who makes him work overtime, stupid uniforms that don't fit him and that make him itch. Can the occasional theft of beer and frozen pizza from Joja's warehouse be considered a form of protest?

Caroline nearly dropped her tea cup when Farmer literally hissed at the mention of Joja and Morris. The two of them were sitting alone in her sunny room drinking tea and Caroline was a little sad that her husband's business had gotten tougher since JojaMart had come to town. She had heard from the Mayor the reason for the Farmer leaving their old job and truly understands their decision (after all, life in the big city can be very tiring). Though the young Farmer's reaction to the mention of Joja.co has her a bit amused.

But when Pierre walked into the sun room (to pick up his gardening tools) where his wife and Farmer were sitting, and heard the conversation about his store and Joja, he started wailing and whining about the desperate situation. And the shopkeeper would wholeheartedly support Farmer in the idea that everyone would be much better off without blasted Joja! However, when the Farmers were about to leave, they thanked Caroline for the tea, and finally, with a sly smile, said that "Joja will not stay here for long". What this meant, neither Pierre nor his wife understood.

"Fuck! Fucking bitch ass Joja with their fucking cans and CDs! I want fish, not that dog ass shit plastic! Rot in hell, you goddamn corporation, bunch of bastards and rats!" Sebastian is used to Farmer's tirade by now, and watches from the kitchen window, sipping his coffee, as his poor friend has been trying to fish the mountain lake for the past two hours. Judging by their profanity, fishing was not going well.

But poor Maru, who almost dropped the wrench on her foot, heard the Farmer's profanity for the first time and thought something was wrong. When she went out to inquire after their fortunes, they were already sitting on the shore crying... and surrounded by the garbage from Joja.co. The young inventor invites Farmer into the kitchen for a cup of coffee with her and her half-brother.

While the brother and sister consoled Farmer with words and caffeine, Demetrius, seeing that there was now a lot of plastic lying nearby, offered to the Farmer take his recycling machine and scheme if they wanted more machines. Recycling would help to bring the environment back to its former state, also the recycled garbage would become useful products for the farm! Demetrius thinks it's unlikely that they'll be able to boycott the huge company in any way, so it's better to help the ecology like that at least.

Robin almost died laughing. "Holy macaroni, you swear like an old sailor!" She really didn't expect such profanity from such a quiet and kind person, but her son and daughter were not the only ones who heard the poor youth's tirade after a bad fishing trip. But Robin doesn't want to tease the poor Farmer, so she goes along with her husband's offer to take their recycling machine.

Oh dear, don't be so furious, you get a headache! Evelyn can understand why the poor Farmer is upset, but she would hate to see such a kind and sweet youth in a constantly bad mood because of Joja. Maybe they'll drop by for tea? She just baked cookies, and didn't use Joja products, granny promises! *wink*

Linus can feel Mother Nature weeping and choking on all this garbage and waste. And how her crying has gotten stronger since Joja their big store in town. The wise man stays calm though and tries to comfort the Farmer, because anger clouds his thoughts and it's impossible to think of ways to help nature.

Hmmm, dear, but Joja is full of good gardening supplies and farming seeds, and at a low price. Jodi thinks they should look in there and get something for.... Oh, okay, fine. Jodi won't mention Joja again, or she gets the impression that nice Farmer is transforming into a beast before her eyes.

Now, now... There's no need to get so angry or you'll get high blood pressure, Harvey knows what he's talking about. Anger is inherent in everyone, but he is well aware of how mental problems later affect a person's physical health. So if Farmer doesn't learn to control their anger, then it will be Dr. Harvey himself who gets angry. And take his word for it, Farmer, he will scold you severely.

For all his desire to help Farmer, Rasmodius feels he should not interfere in people's lives, much less use magic for it. Plus, he feels that there's no point in looking for an answer to solve a problem when the answer is right in front of them. Hmm? What is he talking about? Ah, young adept, the forest spirits will show you the way, you just have to learn to listen to them carefully.

Leah knows what it's like to live in a big city at an energy-sucking job, under the all-seeing eye of a mega-corporation (also with her ex who mumbling everyday about more profitable professions). And when Leah sees JojaMart, her mind involuntarily returns to that unpleasant part of her life. To be honest, she would also start snarling and hissing like a Farmer because of Joja or any other company that is trying to greedily take Stardew Valley for itself.

Elliott bows before Farmer: to reach such a peak of eloquence, masterfully masking sarcasm in conversation with the help of barbs and epithets - such a level was not even reached by Elliott himself, even with his rich vocabulary. The writer doesn't know why this manager from Joja.co angered the always good-natured Farmer, but Elliott made a note to himself to never get on the Farmer's bad side.

All right, kiddo! Don't bark at the store like a guard dog! Do Pam a favor and move your bum away from the main JojaMart entrance, she has to get a dark ale on special, plus a 15% off coupon. Huh, don't like Joja? Then don't look at them and problem solved! Like a piece of cake.

The tired father had to put his hands over Vincent's ears more than once to keep the youngest of his sons from hearing the endless stream of profanity from their new Farmer about the greedy megacorporation. Though Kent would be lying if he said the whole rant didn't make him laugh. Still, he tries to hide a smile under his wife's stern gaze.

All right, enough! Why don't you stop swearing, there's little kids walking around! Lewis can understand anything, but not useless swearing. The town mayor really does miss the days when they were all at the old Community Center, but yelling at Joja won't do anything. What do you mean the "Community Center will soon be alive again"? Farmer? Where are they going? Yoba, they're just like their Grandfather. Sigh, what a daredevil...bless your soul, my old friend.

Satisfied with his work and how quickly the number of visitors to JojaMart was growing, Morris didn't even notice how, when talking to a new resident of the Valley (aka "potential customer"), the poor "listener" had a twitch in his eye and a cringing their face. Well, one gets a tic, he doesn't really care. Although when Morris was at the restored Community Center where people started boycotting Joja, now his eye started twitching.

[gabessquishytum]

Death adopts cat Dream (actual cat Dream) who is very snippy at everyone (she bribed him with cat milk and Death was declared his sister). Then Destruction comes home with an injured cat (Cat Hob) and takes him in.

Snippy cat Dream!!! He's a very regal and majestic skinny boy who likes to sit in his cat tree and judge everyone. And when Destruction comes home with a cat carrier containing another cat, Dream is NOT thrilled. To say the least.

But the big tabby who slinks shyly out of the carrier doesn't look or smell much like a threat. He's clearly been in one too many fights already (torn ear, scratched face, limping). But he's so friendly! He's immediately snuggling up to Destruction and purring, or climbing up into Death's lap for cuddles. Dream only sits on her lap when he is feeling extremely generous.

Hob also tries (again, and again, and again) to befriend Dream. Only to be smacked with a firm black paw. Or hissed at. But Hob just doesn't get the message. When Dream naps in the sunlight, Hob shuffles as close as he can get without making Dream run off. And he tries to get into Dream’s bed with him, even though Hob has his own!

But then Hob gets taken to the vet (just to check his progress) and Dream... misses him. A lot. He sits by the front door and waits for Hob to come back, occasionally meowing sorrowfully. When Hob is brought home, Dream immediately rubs up against him and gives his torn ear an affectionate lick.

That evening they fall asleep in Dream’s bed together, curled up like puzzle pieces. It's the cutest thing, and they're clearly going to be besties forever, from now on <3

[yanderes-galore]

May I request queen xenomorph with reader who has accepted their fate so is very protective of the hive.

Alien stockholm syndrome moment. Sure! Loosely implied to be the same Queen as the regular concept I made.

Yandere! Xenomorph Queen with Darling who accepts their fate

Short Concept/Reaction

Pairing: Animal/Pet-like

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Stockholm syndrome, Overprotective behavior, Implied darling went insane, Monster loving, Isolation, Kidnapping.

Oh that makes her so happy.

Dealing with you trying to run off has been such a hassle.

But now? She caught you being so affectionate to your children.

A drone came up to you after you called them over, then you pet them on the head and praised them.

It makes the Queen chitter in delight.

Finally! You can finally help parent this hive!

Your stockholm syndrome starts with you just being affectionate to the Xenomorphs you're surrounded with.

She's even more happy when you start to reciprocate her attempted affection.

She presses her head into your chest, in response you gently rub her skull and crest.

When she holds you with her smaller set of arms, you hug her back.

Every little touch you give the Queen prompts a chitter of genuine happiness.

You can't help but admit you love her and your children... as there's nothing else to love.

What else are you supposed to do?

You don't have your old family anymore....

You aren't allowed to leave these resin coated walls anyways.

All you have is the Queen and the hundreds of drones at her call.

They treat you as family... their chitters start to make sense to you.

Perhaps... they really are your family.

The only family you have now....

If they are family, if she's your family, then you'll protect them as such.

The Queen doesn't like you fighting, although you make communication with humans easier.

"What are you doing in that cave?"

"It is my refuge. What are YOU doing here?"

"There's Xenomorphs in there! We need you to leave!"

"I'd never leave. That would be abandoning my family."

"What-?"

"Girls."

*distant hissing*

You hate other people entering the hive.

At one point you asked some drones to steal some guns so you could protect it better.

The Queen trusts you won't attack her, especially with your newfound loyalty.

She loves that you betrayed your own kind for her.

You're so much happier here than with them.

She'd be even more thrilled if you gave her a name, one that you call her affectionately.

You love her, she loves you.

Whenever you call her that new name you gave her, she responds eagerly.

You've even begun mimicking her chitters.

Oh, you really ARE hers!

She tries so hard not to crush you when hugging you.

Her second mouth typically sticks out to rub on your cheek in an attempt at a kiss.

You being around her tames the beast nearly instantly.

The large Queen is melting when you sit on her head, touching her smooth skull and praising her.

She's so happy you fell for her and protect the family.

She loves you, she loves you, she loves you....

At least, this is what she thinks what you humans call "love" is.

If you're so happy here with her... it must be.

Now she knows you won't leave her...

Not if you're so protective of her and your family now.

[entomolog-t]

Bite Me - Chapter 6

June pulling out that uno reverse card.

As a warning this chapter is heavier with both the suggestive nature as well the content itself. There is technically nothing explicit, though this is definitely a very emotionally and physically charged chapter.

Taglist: @smallsday @ratcatcher0325 @not-a-space-alien @bittykimmy13 @naive-bias

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 5

Next Chapter: Chapter 7

Word count: 1701

CW: Mentions of blood, Adult language, Dehumanization, Suggestive, Fearplay, Mouthplay (biting), Minor injuries, Whump, Humiliation, Panic (onset panic attack), Conflicting feelings of consent

Aedes knew he was not meant to be touched like this- not in this way; Her teeth pressing into his side, her mouth covering from his shoulder to his navel. His heart pounds in his ears, screaming to him that he is in danger. He wants her to stop but- No, he doesn't want her to stop. Fear and ecstasy run rampant through his mind. Her touch thrills him. It was all encompassing. It was overwhelming. He never wants her to stop. He wants her to stop right this second.

The softness of her lips… the blunt pressure from her bite… the warmth of her breath… It held a depraved intimacy that seemed to stoak something deeply primal within him. As her teeth drag along his skin, he can't stop his body from shaking. It feels wrong- and so very good. He hisses, resisting all matter of instinct urging him to struggle against the massive fingers holding him in place.

He was drowning in foreign sensations and the emotional turmoil they wrought, struggling to find some semblance of control. If he could rein in every instinct, suppress every urge, suppress every fear-No. He wasn’t afraid. He wouldn’t be afraid. Aedes wanted her to see that he was the one in control, not her. He was in this position because he liked it- he allowed it. She was indulging him. 

He wanted respect. 

She wanted a reaction.

She nips at the fabric of his shirt, ever so slowly pulling it up and exposing his midriff. He can’t control the way his abdomen twitches as it's uncovered- the muggy air from her breath bathing him in a strange and humid warmth. As her teeth make direct contact with his skin the initial sensation nearly sends him over the edge. His muscles tense involuntarily, unable to suppress their shudder. He draws in a sharp gasp before gritting his teeth in a desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of composure. 

He not only watches, but feels as her lips curve into a grin. She liked this… far too much. 

“Since you bit me,” Her voice is like velvet- a warm and gentle murmur, “It's only fair I get a turn…” Though spoken slow and soft, those words send a jolt through him, and he finds himself reeling from it- fixated on that teasing demeanor towards his feeding. Her words giving life to a small feeling of hope being kindled in his chest. Her teasing musings seemed… Almost casual? Was she just going to overlook that he’d fed on her? Was she okay with it?? 

Or was she just looking to get a rise out of him- toying with his desire? 

Two could play at that game. 

Hands still remaining begrudgingly restrained above his head, with his knee he tilts up her chin. His eyes lock onto hers, capturing her gaze in his unwavering stare. The closeness of her is beyond overwhelming, with her face extending past the entirety of his vision. Even still, he remains unflinching in his resolve,  a declaration that he will not be so easily cowed by her teasing. 

“Eager Human,” He chides, his words flowing like liquid silk, “You would think by now you would have had more than your fair share of a turn.” He revels in the way his words summon a rush of colour to her cheeks- a rush of blood just beneath her plush skin. Despite the adrenaline beating wild in his chest, he finds himself grinning as he adds, “Though I’ll let you continue to indulge your delusion.”

The sound that escapes her is music to his ears. A subtle whine… an involuntary whimper betraying her bold candor. Just a glance and some words and this behemoth crumbles before me…  The feeling of power it gives him is nothing short of breathtaking- A high like no other. 

He must have been a delusion, the way she indulged in him.

Fervent and passionate, her lips caressed the whole of his body, and her teeth felt as though they defiled it. They carved into him- both physically and metaphorically. With each kiss - each bite - she took from him; pieces of his pride, his resolve, his dignity, leaving him raw, bruised and lesser.

He had allowed this hadn’t he? 

No- he squeezed his eyes shut. His breathing coming faster and faster. Each inhale feeling as though he couldn’t quite take in enough air. His instincts scream at him to fight back, to kick and snarl and scratch his way away, but logic tells him that's exactly what she wants- and some depraved part of his mind whispers that's exactly what you want. 

The hazy scent of her was thick in the air. Sweet and lush. The remnants of his hunger twist in his chest, urging him to take his fill. He strains against her grip, restless in his renewed thirst, but there is no budging. He grits his teeth. This fucking position. He hated it. How small he felt- how little he could move, how he felt on display. 

He was terrified. 

And yet, the pleasure he felt was undeniable. He hears her heart pounding, and he takes no small pleasure in the knowledge that the sound is his doing. Aedes' mind whirls as conflicting feelings gnaw at him. There was no denying the rush he felt, but a panicked voice within him told him that he should- a sharp pang of humiliation screaming out against the thrill. 

The way she moved her lips against his skin, eager and toying - She very clearly wanted a reaction from him and his pride is desperate to withhold it. Just what was she looking for? Did she want him to scream? To beg her to stop? To say he was scared?

He felt like he was drowning in longing. A deep longing to be in control, to escape this feeling of helplessness… and a longing for this woman to see him as more than just a… toy. Yet, he couldn't escape the painful embarrassment of his own helplessness- his pride reduced to a mere plaything for her. He couldn't meet her gaze. Not when he felt like… this.

The once warm and intoxicating touch now felt hot and suffocating. He wanted to hate it- hate the way it made him feel. He wanted it to stop…

But what if she didn't.

A twisted thought snakes it's way into his mind,

You'd like that, wouldn't you?

The only semblance of control he had was in pretending that he was allowing her to touch him like this. If he had to beg her to stop it would shatter the ruse he’d created for himself. He knew she was toying with him- looking for some kind of reaction. She wanted him to reach his breaking point. 

He was powerless.

He was trapped.

His skin no longer tingles with excitement. Instead it burns, stinging and raw from whatever the fuck this shameful thing was. He strains against her grasp, feeling disgusted by the way his body shivers under her touch. 

Pathetic.

He hates the way his body looks under her touch. The sheer size of her relative to himself. The sight of teeth nearly the size of his hands pressing into him- drawing small spots of bloodied freckles to the surface of his skin felt like it would be burned into his mind’s eye. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the incarnadine trail left by her predatory embrace, and he grew queasy at the sight of his own blood.

He was fucking pathetic.

He could feel panic welling up in his chest, and tears in his eyes. He wanted to scream, to beg for this to be over, but his voice failed him, swallowed by the grotesque mix of his pride and fear constricting his chest. He flinched at every touch, trembling under her overwhelming magnitude. His words failed him, his body failed him- each breath coming in short shakey bursts, never seeming to gulp down enough air. 

Pathetic. 

The weight of the humiliation seemed to manifest in her bite, leaving him gasping for breath. How had he deluded himself into succumbing to desires that left him feeling so stripped… so emasculated? 

He felt raw.  

Tears finally spilled over, streaming down his face, as the swell of panic consumed him. 

Turning his head towards her, his breath catches in his throat as he sees her eyes- already locked on his face. The intensity of her gaze is terrifying. His voice catches in his throat- a soft whimpering sound coming from him. A small puff of air. Half of a word hanging on his tongue.

Pathetic. 

He meets her gaze silently begging her to stop, his shame seeming to snuff out his voice. 

She smiles- her teeth still wrapped around his frame.

The sight is stunning- both horrifying and beautiful. The amalgamation of his internal turmoil is all at once far too much to contain. He overflows. Unable to suppress it, a single hushed word finally spills forth from his lips, repeated over and over between gasping whimpers. 

“P-please.” 

Please stop.

Please let me go.

Please continue.

To his horror, despite his fear, there's still a part of him that wants her not to stop- to be so completely overwhelmed by her that nothing else can occupy his mind. Aedes so desperately wanted to sever away that part of him, the way one would amputate an necrotic limb to stop the spread. This was wrong. He can’t grasp what he's feeling- he doesn’t want to. Nothing was making sense. All Aedes knows is he's never been so horrified in his life. 

He has to get away.

Her eyes fall to his face and she pauses. As she pulls away from him, Aedes feels a rush of cool air against his dampened skin, the sensation stinging at the raw marks she had decorated him with. Her gaze is unnerving. Her eyes, wild and wide, seemed to consume him, devouring every detail yet sharing nothing of their own. It's predatory. 

He couldn't bear it. The touch. The thoughts. The humiliation. It hurt. It hurt so much. 

"Awe,” she coos, “is the little toy afraid I'll break him?"

Aedes unravels.

[itz-pandora]

Pandora!!! You got OCs?? Who who do tell!! If you want. I just saw you mention it in the tags of one of you posts and I'm curious ^^

- Ignore the name thats my main, its Sticks here!

HI STICKS HIII!! :D

Okay I just tried listing them all and idk if I got all of them but 🫶 we slay

My Sol Dimension OCs:

Grim the Goat (He's kinda a replacement for Eggman Nega, so he's the main antagonist in my version of the Sol Dimension. He's a skeleton goat who's a wizard and basically immoral. He's SUUUPER silly tho. He runs a lil ship with his niece, Lanolin (Yeah, I throw her in because she doesn't have a place in this AU) and she's always mega stressed because Grim does the stupidest and wackiest things.)

Cove the Wren (Kinda takes the role of Tikal/Knuckles for the Sol Dimension. He lives on Sky Babylon protecting the Master Emerald. He's actually an adult, so that's why he is the main protector. The rest of the Babylonians aren't extinct though, so good for him!)

Solaris the God of Destruction (I yoinked the name!! She's the Sol Dimension's version of Chaos. She's a wisp and lives outside the Master Emerald. She takes on the shape of a mobian phoenix, and she actually has wings. She's perfect much nonverbal, but she can make sounds like cats would lol, their chirps and hissing. She's attached to Cove, since he's been guarding her so long.)

My Future Timeline OC:

Steel the Hedgehog (She's Silver's mother, and since this AU is a DADow AU... You can fill in the blanks. She's courageous and kind of impulsive. She's somewhere on the Aroace spectrum, but she fell for Shadow after he saved her once. She's kinda insane but she's a girlboss for it. She gets killed by Mephiles when Silver is an infant LOL.)

Main AU OC:

Zurui the Chameleon (She was in the Dojo that Espio grew up with, and she was one of the people who trained him. Idk if she was his mother or what. The dojo was really strict, actually abusive when people didn't meet the standard, so Espio left.)

Fankid AU:

Sonadow:

Spirit the Hedgehog (Weak kid with a few health problems. He's the result of Project Spirit, and was made to see spirits, hence the name. He is the first successful attempt, but is physically weak because of it. Shadow rescues him and Spitfire from whoever made them, and so Spirit grows up normally, taking interest in stuff like art, literature, and mechanics. When Spirit starts seeing ghosts, he gets to interact with Maria, whose ghost was still hanging around Shadow since she hadn't moved on yet. Spirit and Maria get to interact, and they become friends, telling each other things. Scares the hell out of Shadow tho LOL. Eventually, Spirit learns how to project spirits using chaos energy, and Shadow almost CRIES LOL... HIS SISTERRRR)

Spitfire the Hedgehog (Spitfire was made to defend the lab and is more of a power type, but was taken away as an infant. As she grew up, she had to start defending Spirit, since he's weak and kinda strange lol. When Spark comes into the picture, she has to make sure Spirit doesn't get hurt, or worse. Spark only being interested in Spirit makes Spitfire insecure, since she starts to think she isn't good enough. It's okay she gets a girlfriend who's very nice. Spitfire is very energetic and a thrill seeker, she's a bit crazy but she's a good person.)

Spark the Hedgehog (The youngest and fastest of the three, made from the leftover DNA of Sonic and Shadow, but he was altered enough so he looks their age. Spark sees himself as a pawn, just a tool to be used, he believes he doesn't have autonomy and just bends to the will of who's commanding him. He was created for the sole purpose of retrieving Spirit due to Spirits abilities, but has been stopped by Spirit's family. I've thought about having something where Spark injures Spirit, and it breaks his worldview a bit)

Silvaze:

Smolder the Hedgehog (He's the heir to the throne of Soleanna (I use the name for Blaze's kingdom bc I wouldn't use it in my 06). Oldest of 3, and the one without powers. He has a physical prowess though, so that makes up for it. He's responsible and booksmart, he wants to prove himself to be a good role model and eventual ruler.)

Ash the Cat (Middle child, who was originally going to be the youngest until I made Ember, lol. She's transfem, and her parents are very supportive of her. She's currently the least fleshed out, since Ember took a lot of her concepts lol. She has psychokinesis tho! I really really need to flesh her out...)

Ember the Cat (Youngest child, she was trained to guard the Sol Emeralds, and has pyrokinesis. She also is being trained to keep relations and communication between Sky Babylon and Soleanna, becoming great friends with Tide, who is in line to be the next protector of the Master Emerald. Her and Tide end up dating btw 💕. Ember is shy but appears reserved and mature. Ember's "burning" form is called "Ignited Ember".)

Sonilver:

Cobalt the Hedgehog (Created when Silver and Sonic used the Time Stones simultaneously. They have control over time, freely passing through it. They have seen a lot of history, and has found it interesting, but hadn't truly befriended anyone. Silver eventually finds them, and offers them a choice to live with him. They eventually decide to reach out, and they do become like family to Silver, and eventually to Sonic too. Silver and Sonic aren't together tho lol. Cobalt is AMAB but is kinda genderfluid/gender apathetic and goes by all pronouns. They identify with different parts of masculinity and femininity)

Non-ship fankid AU OCs:

Tide the Dove (The student of Cove's successor, who is going to be the guardian of the Master Emerald one day. He's shy but polite, appearing awkward at times. He had a crush on Ember for a while, but Ember actually asked him out first lol.)

Hearts the Chinchilla (Very polite and friendly, and she has a interest in baking and crochet. Spitfire fell for her and now they're girlfriends. She's very different from Spitfire, and that's why Spitfire likes her. She also gets along with Spirit.)

Miscellaneous OCs(?):

Hazard the Biolizard (She's just the Biolizard if she was more like Mobian. I don't have a lot down for her personality yet but she's another ARK sibling. Girlfail.)

Melody the Chao (Just a Chao I had in my playthrough of SA2. Knuckles is a single mother bc Knuckles was the only one I'd bring to the Chao Garden for a lil while lol)

Wasn't expecting to ramble endlessly lol

[mrhaitch]

Hello hello Mr.Haitch !! I hope the Haitch household is doing great ^^

So, recently one of my friend’s university is all over the news, because the granddaughter of an insanely popular actor enrolled at that university.

My friend isn’t particularly thrilled about it, because that university has a very difficult entrance exam, but the celebrity’s granddaughter got in without clearing that exam.

The university claims that she has a very impressive portfolio and doesn’t need to clear the exam. But we all know that’s just bs.

So far the university board hasn’t been very subtle about their open bias towards her. Even the staff.

What is your opinion on this? Do you think people coming from influential backgrounds shouldn’t be shown such blatant favoritism? Considering how hard some people tried to get accepted at that university and afford the tuition.

I've got mixed feelings about entrance exams, and assessments in general.

Permit me to dust off my 'education is a public good' Stetson for a moment.

Much better.

Okay - for me it's all down to what you're trying to measure and why. Is the point of the exam for students to gauge the extent of their understanding, for their teachers, for awarding bodies, for future employers? And if so why?

My employer doesn't care that I got top grades in my essays on existentialism and freedom, or that I completely fucked up my exam on the pre-socratics (I objected to a question).

Is it so the university can brag that x number of students achieved a high grade? Is it to assess the quality of the teaching? What if a class' impact is more personal and profound, rather than imparting particular skills that can be measured by conventional assessment?

I know the answer to all of these questions, mostly, but the answers are - to me - unsatisfying. Learning is a lifelong pursuit with milestones, absolutely, but no real defined end. Any end that might be imposed is artificial at best, dishonest at worst. The number of people I've seen waltz into complex, nuanced debates saying "well I studied X at level y" believing it makes them an expert. I also believe the value of education has absolutely nothing to do with employability or transferrable skills (I will hiss at anyone that uses that word near me). Society cannot function without an educated populace, especially its political systems. People can and should be as informed as possible at all times, through whatever methods and by whatever means are most effective for them.

This all applies to entrance exams: it strikes me that it's all about marketing and prestige. Universities want the best students so they can SAY they have the best students, in order to attract more.of the best students. The reasons why fall broadly under, like I said, prestige and marketing - but there's also financial incentives beyond recruitment. Students from affluent backgrounds are, on average, more successful academically - largely as a reflection of the ease with which they can access high quality schooling, tutoring, additional resources, and their parents are likely to be educated as well.

While it might seem like a meritocratic system (if you're smart enough you'll make the cut) but it's another form of elitism and classism, just sneaky and underhanded. Typically this is underlined by the manner of assessment, with a written examination being the standard. That's not to say it's impossible for someone outside of the upper crust to get through, just that the odds are slim. Slim by design.

Anywho.

If it were a perfectly meritocratic system I'd be more upset about people cheating the system, and processes being overridden by nepotism. Instead all they've done is reveal the whole thing is a sham.

For anyone interested in this topic I'd recommend checking out The Tyranny of Merit by Michael Sandel.

[makoodles]

Just imagine, I know that we always put Tsu'tey's daughter in a more na'vi focused way, bit how it would be like if the girl, while growing up, takes a little more in her sanok's culture, like, the girl is just hearing music in these headphones, that the mechanic area of the human base was thrilled to do for her to see the results of a sun battery in those, across the village in large shorts, a really big black t-shirt with a very much punk logo on it that looks like a murderer used it and heavy boots that could be used by some recoms at some point, how would Tsu'tey live with his little girl, the light of his life, living so close to other humans and the culture? Of course she still uses na'vi clothes if there is an important event or so, but then on she is using those clothes and, to Tsu'tey horror, a large variety of black or red clothes that very much look like blood was sprayed on them, her unruly and unkept hair doesn't help her situation.

Mom and Spider just let her be, big bro even keeps encouraging her to be herself because he is always going to help her from others that make fun of her (even when she surpassed his height long ago).

Or worst yet to Tsu'tey, that his little girl gets slowly, and horrifyingly, close to this young male human that was born like spider in the human base.

I can totally see Jake saying something along the lines of "she really is yours, alright" before Tsu'tey is this 🤏 close to punch him in the face when the girl returns to the village with a smug face after giving her love interest fresh fish that she, alone and by herself!, Caught for him, of course the human kid just sees the basket of fish without knowing what to do with it or why she gave it to him, genes are strong and Tsu'tey's daughter only frowns with apparent disgust (she is just a shy girl) at him so he is worried that she may put something strange in the fish and doesn't know what to do because now the, pretty much scarier, dad of that same girl comes to the base to take the fish for his family not before hissing to the poor boy that doesn't know shit of na'vi courting ways or this difficult family of warriors.

Reader and Spider can only see how the teenager girl fights with her father because that basket wasn't for them but for another person, she still thinks that no one knows about his little crush when almost half the village knows (it was Jake's fault)

ahahahah this is so cute! i can imagine her and kiri being best friends, so adorable

tsu'tey and jake would be the number one confused but supportive girl dads

[youngpettyqueen]

have you considered for a fic: julian being held in somebodys arms

anon I could kiss you because Julian being carried in somebody's arms is something that lives in my head rent free always and in fact there's been a scenario in my head for a hot minute and this is the perfect excuse to force myself to write it

Jadzia picks her way through some bushes, eyes on her tricorder as she continues her environmental scans. So far the planet appears to be very similar to Earth, with a comparable atmosphere, and even similar biomes. This forest they've beamed down to is very Earth-like, except that there are some much bigger trees, and several of the plants appear to be bioluminescent.

"Fascinating..." She murmurs to herself, pausing to read through the data. This atmosphere would definitely support the lives of several different humanoid species, if the Federation decided to place a colony here. Considering this planet appears uninhabited except for animals and other such creatures, she wouldn't be-

Footsteps crack somewhere nearby. Jadzia looks up. She can hear the faint murmur of voices, too far away to make out properly, but it's definitely voices. Curious, she starts to move in the direction of the conversation, focusing to try and hear what's being said.

"-ridiculous."

"-arguing is-"

She only catches a few words, but it sounds heated. Now she's really curious. She keeps moving.

"-going to see!"

"Your point?"

That second voice- that's definitely Worf. She would recognize that aggravated tone anywhere. But that first voice-

"It's embarrassing!"

Wait.

"Seriously, Commander, put me down!"

Is that...?

Jadzia comes around the trunk of one of the more massive trees, and stumbles upon a sight she's going to remember for a long, long time.

Worf and Julian both snap to look at her at the exact same time. Worf's expression doesn't change except for his eyes widening a touch, but Julian, who is sitting pretty in Worf's arms like a princess, turns bright red faster than she can blink.

Jadzia stops. Stares. Processes.

And then she grins.

"Boys," She greets, her tone saturated with amusement, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"You're not," Julian says, very firmly, looking like he would rather be anywhere else than here, "Maybe you can talk some sense into him, Jadzia. Tell him I don't need to be carried like a bloody damsel in distress." He gives Worf a pointed look.

Worf ignores his look, and turns an exasperated one of his own to Jadzia. "Perhaps you could tell Doctor Bashir to stop being so stubborn, and accept help when it is offered." He suggests, which earns him an outraged look from Julian.

Jadzia bites her cheek to keep from laughing. "Hold it, gentlemen," She says, raising a hand to quiet them both, "You can't ask me to take sides when I don't have the full story. Julian," She looks at him, "What happened?"

Julian looks less than thrilled at the question. "Must I?" He asks in return.

Jadzia barely keeps her grin from growing because oh, that means this is going to be good. "You must." She smirks.

"Fine," Julian sighs, looking none-too-pleased about it, "I had a little... mishap, while I was exploring. Banged my knee up a bit. And Worf here decided the best course of action was to scoop me up-"

"Like a damsel in distress." Jadzia puts in, just to be cheeky.

Julian gives her a flat look. "...Like a damsel in distress," He mutters, "And carry me. Which, let me be clear, is entirely unnecessary, and I really wish he would put me down." He hisses the last bit at Worf, who just raises an unimpressed brow at him.

Jadzia nods, putting on her best act that this is all very serious. "I see," She looks to Worf, "Your side of the story, Commander?" She invites.

Worf continues giving Julian an annoyed look, before he turns his attention to Jadzia. "Gladly," He says, "I heard a commotion and followed it to the source, and found Doctor Bashir at the bottom of an incline. His leg is injured, so I thought it best to take the most efficient course of action, and carry him back to the runabout." He explains.

Jadzia cannot hide the amused smirk that forces itself to be known on her face as she looks back at Julian. "You fell down a hill." She doesn't need to ask- she knows.

Julian doesn't look at her. "I fell down a hill."

"And you could not walk," Worf interjects, glowering, "Hence why I am carrying you."

"I could've limped!" Julian exclaims, "A shoulder to lean on would've been fine! Would you please just put me down?" He asks.

"No," Worf replies, resolute, "I will not risk you aggravating your injury for the sake of pride."

"You're a bloody hypocrite." Julian accuses.

"I dunno, Julian," Jadzia re-enters the conversation, a sly grin on her face, "I think I'm with Worf on this one."

Julian gives her a look of complete and utter betrayal. "I thought we were friends." He says, like she's just stabbed him.

"Of course we're friends," Jadzia says, "That's exactly why I'm with Worf. You shouldn't be walking on that leg. Besides," She gives him a knowing look, "I know a thing or two about being in those arms, and who am I to deny you the experience?" She asks.

Julian looks like he wants to sink into the ground and never emerge. Worf gives her a warning look. "Jadzia..." He says, in that warning tone of his.

Unfortunately for him, all that tone ever does is egg her on. "What?" She asks, batting her lashes innocently, "I'm just saying. You two look awfully cozy." She teases.

"We are not!" Julian and Worf say in haunting unison, though Julian's is more of a squeak and Worf's is more of a growl.

Jadzia throws her hands up placatingly. "Hey, hey, like I said. I'm just saying. It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to," She flashes them a mischievous grin, "But if it did, you know... I wouldn't be opposed to it." She winks playfully.

"Worf, I've decided I'm alright with being carried," Julian declares suddenly, now a truly impressive shade of red, "Please take me to the runabout and away from this." He implores him.

"For once, Doctor, we agree," Worf nods, "I, too, am done with this conversation." With that, he turns away from Jadzia and resumes walking.

Jadzia's grin is out in full force. "I like it when he carries me, too!" She calls after them.

"I don't like this!" Julian calls back.

Jadzia chuckles to herself. "Liar." She accuses, though not loud enough for either of them to hear her. She watches them disappear into the foliage, satisfied enough with her teasing that she doesn't pursue them. Left alone again, she resumes her scanning, the smile never leaving her face as she gets back to work.

She is never letting either of them live that down.

[anakinniesluv]

Sweet Little Secrets - Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite

@unadulterated-syd

Neytiri (avatar 2009) × fem!Omaticaya!reader

Req: "thank you !! i was going to req for neytiri,, i love her so so much + hypothetically, fem! reader but they r in a secret relationship,, before Jake comes along !! N it's only secret because they don't know how well it would be supported considering neytiri was already set up with a mate yk??"

Warnings: fluffy but angsty if you squint, secret relationship, AU where plot doesn't happen or like just before the plot

Summary: yourself and neytiri have been together for as long as you've felt alive, and you aren't willing to put it at risk. —even if it means she could be forced to mate with another.—

Note: @unadulterated-syd I literally worship you and your requests. This was a great idea and like I cannot wait to have this done bc like 😍😍 ugh im finally writing for my wifey Neytiri

It had started off as very little, simply fun that you would have on nights when Neytiri would be pestered about 'living up to her family' and 'being a loyal, respectful woman'. If only you knew how much more it would turn into.

What had once been an escape to have the rare feeling of truly living, had turned into a secret love. Secret. The thought giving you both thrill and longing.

She is the Olo'eyktans daughter. She has already been paired with someone. Tsu'tey. It disgusts you to even say his name. It isn't him, he is the same as all of the puff chested males in the clan, it's just; everyone thinks what is yours is his.

But you both know that telling anyone would risk the relationship, her respect, and even your place in the clan if her father is in a bad mood. So it stays secret. Your sweet little secret.

Meeting up in a certain spot on a bioluminescent tree by the river, sharing sweet nothings as you hold and love eachother as you wish you could around others. The small kisses that make your heart warm as you part ways when the sun rises. The occasional unique bead that would be found in each of your hair, always with one exclusive feature to make you think of eachother any time you pay attention to the strands.

But what comes with greatness must come a fault.

Seeing people refer to her as 'tsu'teys mate' or him as hers, whilst she sends a glance your way as if she ever even subtly shut down the name. The way he would caress her lower back when speaking in front of the clan, almost as a symbol of 'she's mine.' When you would be with her family, and her mother would start discussing when she would mate with him and begin doing her 'natural womanly duties.'

Luckily, the faults are buried under the memories of nights like these.

You're almost at the top, heading up the tree that would told neytiri you would be at by eclipse. You're almost there—until you almost fall and plummet to the ground for the purpose of your lovers entertainment.— "Boo!" Neytiri shouts from above, coming out of her hiding place on the upper of a thick branch. Your mind and body both shut down in shock for a half-second before you come back from your paralysis.

"Neytiri!" You hiss. "nga stum tspang oe!" (You almost kill(ed) me!) At this, she let's out an amused giggle and grabs your wrist to pull you up to her level.

"kaltxì." (hello.) She says before placing a soft kiss on the corner of your lips, pulling back with a mischievous grin. "Oh eywa, Neytiri. What are you going to do now?" Her grin widens. "za'u!" (Come!)

Before you know it she is climbing down the tree, jumping the remaining distance and dashing towards eywa knows what. You are quick to follow, not letting her catching you off guard cause you to lose her trail.

You dash around the forest in many different directions, not having a care in the world as you play silly games with the lover you cannot let be known. These are the moments you live for. These are the moments where you truly live at all. You would continue living for and like this if it meant it could keep happening.

After nearly running around the entire perimeter of the forest, you are met with an unbelievable sight. It is a small pond, but it has bioluminescent plants littered throughout the water and mossy rocks that hold animals you never thought you'd see up close.

She sends you a shushing signal, slowly and quietly creeping towards the small ecosystem in hopes of not scaring the animals away.

Finally being close enough to get a good look, you sigh in amazement. Everything is so peaceful. The animals are getting along, the little families huddling together to keep warm in the dark. There is no fighting, hatred, disappointment or envy here, just peace.

Your eyes land on a flattened rock only a few paces away, and you realize that it would be the perfect seating place for you and your lover. You silently step closer and closer, praying there aren't any sticks in your path.

Finally making it to the rock, Neytiri behind you you sit down and take in the view a second time. That's the thing with Neytiri, she always find the most amazing things and shows them to those who she knows would enjoy it.

"'Tiri- it's gorgeous!" You say, breaking the silence with your hushed voice. "That is why I have shown you."

You turn to her, seeing her freckles brighter than ever and her honey eyes reflecting the light of the plants. You subconsciously lean in, cupping her cheek and kissing her lips. It is a sweet, soft, affectionate kiss that she responds to immediately.

You find yourselves laying on the grass now, sharing last sweet kisses before drifting off in eachothers arms. You feel so at peace it feels as if you are with eywa already. Being in her arms makes your soul feel safe, safer than you ever feel otherwise.

You lay there together, tails and arms wrapped up, loving eachother even as you sleep. Not even caring who finds you when you wake.

AHHHH this is probably one of my new fav works. Not for the quality of the writing bc it was a lil rushed n I gotta get that done for my pookie syd 😞. But I love the concept n the idea and all of that (obviously love my bae neytiri 🤭). Can we talk about how FINEEE neytiri was in atwow tho?? Like stomp on me.

[just-horrible-things]

‘Verse: Box Boy Universe Story: A Girl Called Spider Timeline: Spider has been with her owner for some time

Towels [Prev | Next ]

She puts the cuffs back on his wrists before she leaves him. He doesn't want her to, and they wrestle briefly. "Whe-ere – m'gonna – g-go?" he croaks. But now, like this, she is finally stronger than him. She can drag his shaking wrists together despite his resistance. 

She turns the hot water on before she goes, too. She's feeling the cold now, and she sees the way he shivers and shudders as he coughs and coughs and coughs. He flinches away from it at first, with a strangled screech. The heat must scald against his cold-numbed skin. 

"Don't be ungrateful, Handler," Spider hisses. 

And after a few panicked seconds, he adjusts, and slides reluctantly back under the water.

He doesn't thank her for the act of mercy. 

Spider slinks off, shivering herself, to Avon's bathroom upstairs where she can rinse in warm water, then raid the medicine cabinet for sticky plasters to put over the scrapes on her arms and legs and especially feet so that she doesn't bleed into the towels. The plasters aren't big enough really, but she makes do. 

Then, finally, she can dry off with a fluffy towel – no, two fluffy towels, it is her birthday – while she warms up on the heated floor.

She aches. Her legs and arms and especially core ache from exertion. It'll be better in an hour or two, then worse tomorrow. 

Good, she thinks fiercely. It's making her stronger.

Worse is the ache inside her chest, the knotted up feeling that used to mean tears before she learned only to cry on command. It’s very familiar. But she doesn’t understand why it’s happening now.

She’s supposed to be happy. She’s supposed to be thrilled.

She got what she wanted, what she really wanted more than anything and didn’t think she’d ever really get.

Why does she feel like crying?

Once she’s warm, she dresses in clean clothes. She swaps the towels for fresh ones and hangs the damp ones up in front of the radiator to dry. She takes her soaked clothes down to the laundry, and leaves them in the sink so they don’t drip everywhere. She could just put them on to wash… but she should find the rest of a load to put in with them, and that’s too much effort. She’ll leave it for tomorrow like Avon said she could.

Maybe she’ll try being nice to Rayce again. She didn’t feel bad when she was being nice to him earlier. She picks up another clean towel.

He’s still coughing. She can hear him from halfway across the house. Not quite continuous anymore, but long bouts with only brief gaps between. 

She finds him curled miserably on his side under the hot water. He looks up at her with a sullen, hostile glare, but he flinches just a little as she approaches.

“Don’t give me that look,” she scolds. “Do you want to get dry?” He doesn’t answer her. He just coughs, and coughs, not even bothering to lift his head from the tiles.Spider turns off the water. “You’re a Pet now,” she tells him. “Pets don’t get nice things unless they behave.” Still no answer. 

Taking the towel with her, she sits in the chair by the door, on the far side of the room from Rayce. The seat is damp right now and a little chilly, but her body heat warms it quickly enough. 

Rayce watches her from the floor, clearly not understanding. Not yet. He will. The warmth from the shower won't linger for long. 

"That… was torture," he croaks. Spider thinks about it for a second. "Yes," she agrees. "So are shock collars, and batons, and not letting someone sleep for days and days, and making them hold Position for hours."

Rayce tries to laugh – a hollow, hoarse sound – and sets himself off coughing again, bad enough that he rolls onto his stomach and gets his elbows under his shoulders to try and ease it. 

"So, what?" he queries hoarsely when he finally. "This is –" cough "-- revenge? That's rich. It's not –" cough,wheeze, cough "-- not my fault, I didn't ma-ake you a –" gasp, small cough, deeper cough "-- a Pet. I was – the nicest person in there, I was – as nice as they'd let me be. I – tried to help you." "I can be nice too," says Spider. She lifts the towel invitingly. Rayce glares daggers at her – until another bout of hacking and gagging interrupts.

"Talking is making it worse," she observes. "Don't –" he snarls "-- You did this. Don't try to baby me."

You starved me, she thinks, and made me perform for scraps. 

She sees him look up at the controls for the water, thinking about whether he can turn it back on, probably. He decides against it. Spider sits neatly, one leg folded over the other, and waits.

"Does –your owner know what you're doing?" "To his new property? Yes. He won't help you. I can do what I like to you." She doesn't think he fully believes her, but it doesn't matter. He'll learn. "Some – sadist, huh?" Rayce mutters. Spider can hear the next bout before it starts, in the tightness of his voice. 

Eventually he tries to get up. Even getting up onto his knees looks difficult. His arms shake like plucked strings. It takes him a few tries to get his feet under him, and when he does he leans heavily against the wall – and spends a while doubled up with renewed coughing from the effort of standing. 

Spider expects him to turn the hot water back on and collapse under it. She's more than ready to play that game with him. It costs him just to stand up, and it costs her nothing to turn the water back to cold. 

But instead he staggers, clinging to the wall, around the back edge of the room to the towel rail. Spider watches, one eyebrow arched, as he laboriously pulls one free from the rest, and tries one-handed to shake it out enough to wrap it round himself. 

When he realises that it’s sodden and freezing cold, his open-mouthed dismay is frankly comical. Spider laughs the soft, honey-sweet laugh that she worked so hard on.

He drops the towel – messy Pet – and grabs at the next one, then the next, groping all four in a frantic search for one that isn’t soaked. Spider supposes he doesn’t remember the way the shower head spun on the floor, spraying the entire room down, while Spider was drowning him.

When he gives up, he turns his head reluctantly to look at Spider, where she sits neatly with the single dry towel – huge and fluffy – loosely bunched in her lap. She knows he wants it. She smiles pleasantly. 

And then he takes an unsteady step towards her, and a sudden flood of adrenaline has her on her feet in an instant.

It’s stupid. It’s ridiculous to be scared, he’s still leaning heavily on the wall, still coughing every few breaths. 

She doesn’t want to ever be afraid of him again.

“You have to ask nicely,” she tells him frostily. “You should know that, Handler.” Something in that makes him flinch a little, but she doesn’t like the look in his eyes. “I could put you back under the water, you know,” she hisses. “It’s not dangerous, you’re still shivering.” Did he say that to her, or was it Handler Mitchell? It doesn’t matter.

His gaze slides left to right, then back to Spider.

Grudgingly, reluctantly, he says, “Please can – I have the towel?”

She was planning to help him get dry, but she doesn’t feel like it anymore. Her heart is still racing as she holds the towel out.

But he takes it almost gingerly, and there’s a little bit of satisfaction in that. And a little bit more in his obvious desperation to get it wrapped round himself and bury his face in the fabric. He needed this. She made him need.

[Next]

[hollowfaith]

👋

misc action memes

👋 - for my muse to tug at your muse’s sleeve for attention .

The movement at his sleeve makes Aurelius look down to see the blond Servant tugging at the fabric.

"Yes, what is it?"

Nero fixes him with a pair of sparkling green eyes. "What does it look like?"

Aurelius turns back towards the front. "Nothing out of the ordinary. The acrobats are performing up to expectations so far."

Another tug plagues him, sharper this time. "But I can't see them!"

Aurelius blinks at her. Then he scans the crowd of audience members around them, all forming a veritable wall around the stage of the performers showing off their craft. "Oh, I suppose you couldn't at that height."

"Aurelius!" A flare of indignation rises up in her chest; Nero is already thinking of a choice quip when she feels a gust of wind followed by exclamations from the crowd. Before she can process what's happening, strong arms catch her around the waist and settle her on the angel's right shoulder as he takes flight above the crowds.

Suddenly, they not only have the best seats in the plaza, but the center of attention from everyone else as well.

"Aurelius, you..." Surprised by the change in positions, she impulsively clutches at his other shoulder for balance.

"It wouldn't be practical to just lift you up when we'd block the view of those behind us," the angel explains calmly. He brings up an arm to steady her while the actors on stage recover enough to go on.

Nero lowers her voice into a soft hiss. "But I'm—I'm going to fall!"

"No you won't." Aurelius isn't even looking at her, but the invisible touch of his wings find Nero's back and stabilize her further, acting as a sort of cushion to hold her weight. Still she digs her fingers into his jacket, partly to censure and the rest a mix of giddy nervousness. To distract herself she looks back at the stage, just in time to see another performer skillfully execute a series of backflips perfectly off a tower.

"Oh!" the exclamation escapes her lips unbidden.

"It doesn't look so hard."

"You can't say that when you have wings."

"Klaus can do it without his wings too."

She can feel her expression turning wry. "Give the humans a chance, why don't you."

Aurelius says nothing, but she catches the look in his irises turn considering before he nods. "...I can accept that they're exemplary by their own standards."

She feels a tiny thrill of pride at him taking her advice, enough to settle down and make herself more comfortable. "Well, thank you very much for this seat. It's, um...it's extremely convenient."

"You can thank me by telling me where to find the bakery you mentioned with those cakes."

"Oh! Yes, of course. After this then, if you're not busy?"

The angel pauses to check his watch. "We should have enough time."

Then he could bring something sweet home for Klaus's dessert.

[coffee-lo-vers]

Summary:

This is a story I wrote because I feel like Kaede was forgiven very easily with her identity, so I put some scenarios where her "true identity" is revealed. If you don't like the ship Yukikae don't read, thanks :).

Notes:

English is not my first language, so please excuse the grammatical errors, if you like to read it in Spanish it is on my profile with the same name.

"Okay? You will obey your father, right?"

Kaede gets goosebumps listening to Takaoka, she has a bad feeling.

"Well I…" she looks up, smiling politely. "I don't want to. I'd rather have classes with Karasuma-sensei."

Takaoka raises his arm, intending to slap Kanzaki.

Kaede can see the action in slow motion and tells herself not to interfere, but a small voice begs her to intervene, reminding her of how Kanzaki had let her guard down slightly with her telling her about her parents, Kanzaki will obviously get in trouble if his parents notice the blow. His head starts to ache and he feels a strong anger surge as the tentacles warn him that his identity could be exposed.

In the end the little voice wins, her body moving before her mind thinks of the consequences.

He steps between them, pushing Kanzaki aside.

And the hand falls on her, untying her hair.

Kaede subconsciously grinds her teeth, to keep from biting her tongue.

Duck your head when you hit the ground hard and tuck your arms in to avoid putting too much pressure on your back and damaging your spine.

His jaw throbs in pain, but compared to his father Takaoka's punch is nothing special.

She wanted to destroy Takaoka's method of education, she feels how anger turns that desire into a need, the tentacles try to stop her, but the only thing they do is make her angrier, and if the blow had already intervened, then why not return it?

At the thought, he giggles a couple of times, feeling the thrill of humiliating Takaoka.

He stands up, smiling slightly showing his teeth.

"Is that the best you've got, sensei?~" She sneers, as Class E rushes towards her in concern. "Try hitting me harder next time, maybe it might hurt~." She says as she tilts her head to the side, her short hair slightly covering one of her eyes, the tentacles trying to stop the bloodlust, but a little leaks out scaring Takaoka, as Kaede never let her out.

Takaoka seems shocked by Kaede's smile. He clearly did not expect her to take Kanzaki's blow instead. On the other hand, she had already found out what Takaoka's philosophy was, it revolved around the fact that the students were afraid of him, but seeing a student receive a blow from another of her own free will makes the others realize that they can reveal themselves and take care of each other.

Takaoka then raises his hand, intending to beat up Kaede, but Isogai and Maehara won't let him, grabbing his arms and twisting them behind him. While he's stuck, Kanzaki, Nagisa, and Sugino go to Kaede, while Okuda goes to the classroom to see if he can find Koro-sensei and the medicine cabinet.

"Stop, Takaoka!" Karasuma runs towards him, seeing Isogai and Maehara let go.

"Are you ok?" Karasuma-sensei inspected his wound, "Is there any pain in your neck?"

"No, I'm fine Karasuma-sensei." Kaede forces a natural smile, despite the pain.

"Thank you, Kaede." Kanzaki smiled softly, placing the ice pack on her cheek that Okuda had brought just then.

Seeing that smile, Kaede feels her breath catch in her throat, her heart races and she feels that a blush will come to light if she doesn't stay calm. However, at the last moment he manages to calm down.

"It was nothing, what kind of friend would I be if I let you get hit in front of my eyes?" He says while shrugging.

"Wow, remind me never to make you mad Kayano" Sugino says.

"Yes, I could never imagine you like this" Nagisa says astonished and Okuda nods at what he said.

Kaede just smiled nervously realizing that the weak girl facade had gone down the drain. The tentacles hissed in anger, and Kaede winced mentally, imagining how unbearable the tentacles would be for at least a week.

Notes:

Kaede's father is not mentioned, but he has not been present in her life, especially after Aguri. So I decided to put him as a puncher, just for the sake of the scene.