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landossnorriss · 2 months ago

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i see you | i will always protect you | ln x she.

Pairing: lando x she. Summary: lando's girlfriend has had enough of the disrespect of a few mclaren members and decides to make it known. Word Count: 2.1k Warning: hurt? angst? idk this is very self serving?

they had locked her in his fucking drivers room. it had been hard to stomach watching the race, she had been at the edge of her seat the entire time but as the penalty landed she had lost it. lando deserved a penalty, she wouldn't argue with the fact despite knowing him so well she knew that there was no way that he wouldn't have lifted if he had seen the flag but a 10 second stop and go? her head set had been off and she had been moving before sense had really hit her. all season long she had stood by and let it happen, she had been with him as much as she could, wrapped herself around him in hopes it would shield him from the world that had proven to be so cruel to the boy they had once loved but this? it was enough.

" zak! andrea! you can't make him fucking serve that are you joking! he needs to fucking pass max and drive, absord the repercussions!" she called as she flew from the garage, mechanics trying and failing to grab at her as she made her way through the pit and to the wall her arms flailing and she didn't care what cameras caught her. she was done. " why is will calling him in! why are you not defending him!" stella heard her, but as usual her calls landed on deaf ears and with a flick on his hand he had turned back to the screens in front of him and she had felt an arm wrap around her, jons probably given no one else would have been brave enough to get close and she had been lured into lando drivers room despite her fights where she was now locked.

it was un-fucking-believable, not a single person on that pit wall had been ready to fight and with every fibre of her being she was ready to fight them all. each interview that surfaced on her phone only served to make her angrier, each time she caught sight of his face, the weight of what had happened piling on his shoulders more and more visible with each question thrown his way and the final straw? andrea's shitty fucking comments that lando should have known when a yellow was called. he had been arguing with will over pace when he had flashed and not a single person had told him about it till it was too late. the team were as much at fault as he was and the penalty was unprecedented and uncalled for.

she knew that it was lando the second the door clicked and everything in her wanted to comfort him but she had another thought on her mind. "baby... " lando frowned as she brushed passed him, confusion pulling at his brows making a picture of his already weary expression. he had been confused when she wasn't in the garage waiting for him and now his confusion had only doubled. he moved quickly after the initial shock had worn off, following his girl on the clear war path she was on.

his jaw only dropped slightly as he watched her rip open the door to where andrea and zak were currently deep in some post debrief conversation and he braced himself for the impact that was about to come. his girl was pissed and not a single person in hospitality seemed ready to stop her.

"how dare you!" she spat before zak could stop her with a well intention raise of his hands but she was already in front of andrea with a fire lit in her chest. " i'll repeat since you're looking at me with a stupid expression on your face. how, fucking, dare you. i know you have been at this team a little less time than the rest of us and so you seem to have missed something, but that man right there has bled for you from the second he stepped foot into the mtc. he has made tea, he's learnt to fix the fucking cars, he has turned down offers from every other fucking team that could have put a race winning car under him so much sooner and you give him what in return?"

" baby ... " lando warned softly behind her, as much as his chest was bursting with love for her , he didn't want her banned from races all together if she took it too far but the gentle touch of her elbow was shrugged off as she continued on.

" no lando someone needs to say it because i'm sick of it, every single weekend. not once did you congratulate lando on his pole this weekend, every single time you have to pick you pick oscar and for what? what does supporting both of your drivers do? why is that so hard for you? lando bleeds papaya through and through, he rips himself apart for this team and you left him alone to suffer after brazil, let him piece himself back together and the millionth time that he needs you to defend him this season you leave him to the wolves! what else does he have to give to this team to earn the respect he deserves from you? how can you not see that you're breaking him every time you treat him like he's nothing? he has been nothing but loyal to this team and to you, everything you ask of him he delivers and you just disrepect him constantly. you don't fucking deserve him andrea, you don't deserve to celebrate him or love him just when he wins for you when you won't defend him when he needs it!" tears streamed down her face that she barely registered as she rounded on zak who was stood staring at her with his own, admittedly ashamed expression.

" and you, you're no better. you claim to love him like a son and that you're proud of him but you're the ceo, you have the rank to pull should you need to and you constantly choose to pick the image of family over actually taking care of a boy who has been with you since he was seventeen, put some fucking respect on his name or you best believe that i will drag his ass to another team before i let him sign himself away to any more time being treated like he's nothing more than mclarens whipping post to i make myself clear?" she huffed as hands reached to wipe at her tears.

everyone paused as they waited to see whether or not she was done, tears formed in landos own eyes, guilt in zaks, praise filled jons, shame in wills. every single person in here knew that she was right, she could feel it, she just also knew it was unlikely to change much. " and you . " turning her eyes landed on her driver, her sweet, self deprecating , race worn driver. " i won't hear another word about you being sorry, no one told you it was a yellow, not your dash, not your engineer, no one, oscar got told. every one else got told but you didn't and i won't hear another word about you letting your team down, not tonight do you hear me? " she scalded with the last of the fight that was left in her , watching as misty green eyes took her in before he offered her a small nod. " now as the only person in this room that seems to give a flying fuck about the well-being of the one person that has given everything to this team im going to take lando for however long i want and you can debrief when he's ready you got that?"

moving closer to lando she reached out, her fingers linking with his she pulled him out of the room before anyone else could protest, taking the shortest route possible she knew to get him back to the safety of his drivers room. " they're never going to let me back here again god." she breathed as they closed the door, for the first time in what felt like hours taking a large breath as lando took her in. his hands moved to cup her face, thumbs wiping over the remaining tears that marred her cheeks. " i love you so much , more than any of this you know that right? " he whispered as he let his forehead drop to hers. never had anyone defended him the way that she did. " i'll defend you to the ends of this earth lando norris. i'm sorry i shouldn't have don . " she found herself cut off as landos lips captured hers gently before he pulled her into his arms, his chin resting on her head as he let his eyes close. " we'll deal with it tomorrow. " for now all he wanted to do was sleep away the race and get on their way to the next one. so long as he had her by his side, he could handle whatever they threw at him.

--------------------------

lando had long since lost the battle with sleep on the flight to abu dhabi a few hours later, his head tucked into her lap and snuggled into his hoodie, her fingers running through his hair as she watched him rest. the pair had been quiet as she had packed up his gear with jon and he spent some time online with max, they both knew he needed it and she was happy just to see him crack a few smiles. she knew once he woke again it would really hit him and she would have a whole new job to do.

the longer he could rest now the better, the easier her job would be. feeling eyes on her she lifted them from where her fingers were repeating their gentle motions through freshly washed curls. finding stella watching her she shook her head, she didn't have it in her to fight with him now. she had considered getting them a second jet but lando hadn't wanted to leave oscar with the team after the results.

" i'm glad he has you. " stella commented softly as he dropped his eyes to lando and she felt the need to somehow cover him from view even if he was none the wiser. " it can be hard , i have to be honest with the media and sometimes i am harsher on him because i know what he can deliver. " he continued as if it would explain his choices throughout the season. she didn't care though , not tonight , not when it was lando on the line for all of his honesty.

" if you think treating him that way , talking to him like that , will get the best out of him then you've failed him andrea , he loves you , he loves this team , he needs that in return or you're going to break him. " how he didn't see that she couldn't understand, he wore his heart on his sleeve so plainly even those that didn't know him could see it, so why couldn't he?

" i care about him too you know? " andrea tried again but this time it was zak who coughed, shaking his head at his team principle for a moment, his own eyes landing on the sleeping boy in her lap. it was so easy for them all to see the easy going young man he had grown into, the boy that had grown into his skin but in moments like these he was still the young, shy, self doubting teen that zak had inherited and the reminder they had all gotten today was needed.

" you can't burst out like you did again today , especially not in front of the cameras, it makes everything so much worse, for him you know that right? " zak asked quietly and she nodded, she knew that but she was ready to argue anyway, zak beating her to the punch this time. " but , message received, we will be gentler with him, we know he can be the best, that's why we push, but we will do better to protect him, i promise you that. "

she said nothing as her eyes returned to lando again, her fingers unmoving from his hair before she let her own eyes fall closed. it was weekend to forget that was for sure, but she would do everything in her damn power to make sure neither of them forgot what they had in lando ever again.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris angst #lando norris fanfic #this is just self serving comfort.

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yoonjae20 · 1 month ago

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5 Times people outside of the immediate Batfamily find out that B is married and the one time the world meets his husband [Bruce/Danny; Spirit Halloween]

Surprise, surprise! Due to immense positive reaction to the last Spirit Halloween Oneshot, I wrote another Oneshot interconnecting with the previous one. As you can see per the title it's a 5+1 Oneshot! Inspired by PaperPuffin's "Batman's Husband" over on ao3.

Read on ao3. Masterpost.

Previous. Next.

Barbara stretches her arms above her head and winces at the pop her joints make. It’s well into the early hours of the next day and it has been a long night – there had been an Arkham outbreak which needed all hands on the deck. After 5 stressful hours every Rogue was captured and back behind bars – all that remained were the reports they needed to fill out.

“I’ll head off for the night, I want to get at least a little bit of sleep before I have to go open the library,” Barbara announces over the comm.

“Thank you for your help today, Oracle,” Bruce grunts and Barbara is about to put down her headset when she hears paper getting shuffled around before the distinct sound of ceramic being settled down echoes through the comm.

“Thank you dear,” Bruce’s voice is surprisingly soft and Barbara wonders who brought the man tea – Cass perhaps? There’s some incomprehensible murmurs before Bruce hums thoughtfully. “I’ll probably be done in about 20 minutes or so – just need to finish this report. You can go ahead to bed – I’ll follow you in a bit.” Some more unclear mumbles, but distinctly male before Bruce snorts. Then there is the distinct sound of lips meeting each other. “Good Night, I love you.”

Barbara feels like she intruded on a very intimate moment and she quickly logs out of the comm system before she bursts the bubble Bruce seems to have settled in.

She places her headset next to her keyboard before rolling backwards and only then she lets out the squeal she had been holding in. Since when has B been in a committed relationship? She’s so gonna milk Cass for the details – she needs to know everything.

“Where’s Bruce?” Steph asks as she meets the rest of the Batfamily in the manor for movie night.

Normally the man never skipped out on those unless on an out of world mission.

“On a date,” Tim says absentmindedly as he scrolls through their selection.

Steph’s face scrunches up.

“As in Brucie?”

Jason snorts.

“Actually no,” he says. “Do you remember Bruce’s ring?”

“Yes?” Steph answers, uncertain where Jason is going with this.

“Yeah, apparently he’s married.”

“Wait, what?” Steph doesn’t believe her ears. Bruce Wayne? As in - brooding, stoic Bruce Wayne, who goes out at night in a Furry Costume to fight crime? “For how long?”

Jason turns to Tim who startles with all the attention on him.

“26 years,” Tim states and Steph almost chokes on her spit.

“No way.” Steph shakes her head. “That would mean he’s been married since well before like either of us all knew him!”

“Believe me, we were also quite shocked,” Jason mutters, before adding something under his breath. “Should have known that even his taste in men is quite peculiar.”

Tim starts their movie, but Steph can’t focus for a single second. What the hell is ‘peculiar’ supposed to mean?

Lois opens the door to see Bruce standing before it – along with a gift bag where a bottle of champagne is peeking out of it.

“Bruce!” Lois greets him warmly. “I’m glad you were able to make it!”

The man grunts before handing her the gift bag and following her into the house.

“Clark is doing a little errand, but he’ll be here soon enough.”

Bruce just nods and Lois settles down the gift bag on her kitchen counter, pulling the champagne bottle out. Her and Clark are celebrating their 15th wedding anniversary and the latter had wanted to invite Bruce to a simple, quiet dinner in their house in Smallville.

“Where are the boys?” the man questions when he sees that their table is only set for three people.

“Jon said he had a hang-over with Damian and Kon is on a mission with the Teen Titans.”

Bruce hums and soon Clark arrives back from his errand and they sit down at the dinner table.

In the middle of the meal, Clark opens the Champagne bottle with a loud pop before filling three glasses. Clark raises his own glass as he clears his throat.

“To another 15 years!”

Lois echoes the sentiment while Bruce nods stoically.

Their glasses clink as they toast to each other and then they finish their meal. Bruce still sips on his first glass of champagne when Clark broaches the topic.

“This would have been even better if you also had someone at your side, Bruce,” the man says. “Doesn’t it get lonely?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow and Clark coughs at the man’s deadpan expression.

“Just imagine if we could have celebrated your 15th anniversary too!” the man tries to save the conversation and Lois snorts at her husband fumbling.

“What Clark wants to say is that we wish for your happiness and that we sometimes wonder if a partner would achieve that,” Lois helps out and Clark shoots her a relieved smile. “We've never really seen you date anyone – and those headlines about ‘Brucie Wayne’ don’t count, you know?”

“That might be because my 27th wedding anniversary is coming up,” Bruce says as if he is talking about the weather.

Clark sputters while Lois’ eyes widen.

Bruce raises his right hand and Lois’ eyes focus on the ring on his ring finger – it only now really registering for Lois. It had almost become invisible over the years. Bruce’s lips twitch into a faint smirk.

“Or do you guys think of this as decoration?”

Lois' eyes twinkle as she suddenly pulls out her notepad.

“Tell me everything.”

A knock on his window makes Jim pause in his reading. The world outside is dark and Jim groans when he sees the time displayed in the corner of his screen. 03:57 am. He had been supposed to be home more than a few hours ago to eat dinner with his daughter.

His joints creak when he stands up from his seat — walking over to the window. He’s not surprised to find a looming shadow lingering behind it — quickly letting Batman in.

The man enters, landing softly and without a sound before he hands him a file. Jim purses through it — quickly recognizing it to be one of his recent murder cases.

“Red Robin made a breakthrough,” Batman explains gruffly. “He wanted you to receive this as quickly as possible.”

Jim nods before settling the file on his desk, before sinking back into his chair.

“I hope you are not planning on going back on patrol.” Jim rubs his tired eyes as he shuts down his computer. “While you may be a Cryptid, even you need your sleep.”

Batman’s soft snort surprises James.

“Actually I wasn’t,” the man claims. “My partner was very adamant about the fact that I would deliver this file and then go straight back to the Cave no matter what happens.”

Jim pauses. ‘My partner.’ The way the Batman had said it so casually surprises Jim.

He barks out a laugh.

“Good that there’s someone other than Agent A looking out for you then,” he teases as he watches the computer turn black. “You need it.”

Batman huffs out a breath and that’s as good as a laugh for the man than anything.

“Update me on the case,” the man says in lieu of a goodbye before disappearing out of the room with a swish of his cape.

Jim leans back in his seat, snorting. He never expected anyone to tame the Dark Knight — but apparently even the impossible is possible.

5: Wayne Enterprises staff

The Board Meeting dragged on. It was one of those rare times that Bruce actually attended them - normally he left those to Tim, but the boy hadn’t had time this time.

Once again Lucius applauds Bruce’s ability to stay patient even when Tiffany from HR drones on about unnecessary gossip — only smiling politely and nodding once here and then.

They had gone over the new developments and their future goals already and were well into their allotted one hour time slot. Most of them knew by now that these meetings often overrun and could go well up to two hours if no one (most of the time either Tim or his assistant) cut it short.

Normally Bruce is well versed in being the picture perfect CEO - kind and never once complaining. However this time Lucius notices the man glancing at both the clock opposite to him and his watch that he is wearing multiple times as they near the one hour mark. Lucius can even hear the man audibly grit his teeth and his left eye twitching once Tiffany goes on another tirade.

It’s 10 minutes past their allotted time slot that Bruce seems to have enough — he cuts off Tiffany's rant about one of their engineers with a firm, “Well if that’s everything — I have to get going. My partner and I are celebrating our anniversary.”

Then he promptly leaves the room after dropping that bombshell. Not a millisecond later when the door closes the room erupts in hushed whispers. Lucius doesn’t doubt that by the end the entire building will know about the man’s “mysterious” partner. Lucius quietly schedules a press conference for the next day.

The media gets wind of it by the next day — because of course they do. Each headline is more extreme than the next and Danny has fun teasing Bruce by reading each one out.

The interview Lois had forced Bruce and Danny into would probably go up either tomorrow or today now that the cat was out of the bag so to speak, but he probably would still need to address the general public in the press conference. Bruce silently thanks Lucius for his foresightedness in scheduling a press conference for today – Bruce had been tired yesterday, the exhaustion loosening his lips. While he didn’t want to hide away Danny now that he was back, he had wished for more time to announce it on his own terms.

Bruce stands in front of the mirror as he adjusts his tie and Danny stands behind him, chin on his shoulder and arms around his waist.

“You’ll do fine,” Danny cheers up Bruce. “Just deflect to the fact that an exclusive interview is going up soon and keep it short and simple.”

“You are not one who has to address them,” Bruce grumbles.

“Do you want me to?” Danny’s voice is uncharacteristically serious.

Bruce turns to see the man instead of looking at him through the mirror. Danny runs a hand through Bruce’s styled hair before settling it on the man’s cheek. A finger brushes Bruce's lips before Danny pulls him in for a soft kiss.

“You know I would do everything for you, darling.”

Bruce huffs out a fond breath and settles his forehead against Danny’s.

“I know,” he confirms, before linking their hands. “Together?”

“Together,” Danny affirms with a grin.

Danny changes into a nice dark blue suit – complementary to Bruce’s blue tie and together they step on the stage to address the news. Both of them smile as they wave at the flashes of the cameras.

“Hello Gotham,” Bruce greets. “This is my husband – Danny.”

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nightingale-prompts · 4 months ago

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Entropy- DCxDP prompt

interdimensional babysitter Danny AU

Another day another interruption.

Danny was once again in his observatory doing his job and maintaining the realms.

That was until the heros made their presence known and desired attention.

Jon and Damian for their efforts weren't trying to be disruptive. They just liked watching and being around Danny. What they wanted to know this time was what was Danny's job. He's a god or something like one and was in charge of space but what does that mean? Why was he always so busy with it?

As the boys entered the observatory they watched as Danny seemed to juggle these floating colorful bubbles. Each bubble was full of stars that shifted. Danny flite from orb to orb examining them closely before rearranging them or tapping them and making them glow.

The boys couldn't make heads or tails of what he was doing.

"Danny? What is your job?" Jon asked causing the god's ear to twitch.

"My job?" Danny's voice echoed his eyes still narrowed as he studied an orb.

"Yes, enlighten us. I'm sure it is significant since you often tell us not to interpret." Damian said.

"...."

"Can you tell us, please?" Damian amended not forgetting his manners this time.

"Entropy," Danny said simply pushing another orb to the other side of the room before quickly switching its place with another next to it.

"What's that?" Jon asked flying up to get a better look at a bubble.

"Simply put it is energy- well, lack thereof. Everything in the universe from the moment of its existence is beset by entropy. As things age they lose energy and things begin to break down or unwind. All things break down. All elements also creep toward ineffectiveness and random effects. I must ensure that entropy doesn't consume the realms. Look here." Danny pulled the boys aside and showed them a very dim orb he pulled from among the clusters.

Little lights flickered and disappeared inside the orb.

"This is a dying universe. Every sentient life form no longer exists. I believe that it should be relegated to the empty universe pile and left to disappear as my predecessor had often done. He did not fulfill his role and left universes to crumble. But not me. I think it can be recovered." Danny said pressing the orb tightly in his hands as the orb began to light up in the center. The light seemed to reach a pitch as it exploded outwards and an explosion of stars came into view. Rainbows of colors filled the black void. "That my dear children was a big bang. An explosion of energy with enough particles to recharge this universe. All those colors are charged raw elements that are binding together to form gases. Those gases will condense and explode over and over until they form stars. Matter will form creating rocks and then plants. Molecules will form water and ice once they cool. These particles will settle and cool and life will begin anew and I will be there to recharge them once they start to fade. This is the cycle of the universe and my role in it."

"Whoa, so your like the god of everything. You make everything happen." Jon said taking the orb from Danny's hand and looking ar it from every angle.

"You don't really look like one of those. A god sure but of everything." Damian said studying Danny.

"Because I'm not. Trust me the title of god is not accurate. Gods are made by mortals. I make mortals and gods. But I don't rule them." Danny said. "Now let me finish with these and then we can make pancakes and ice cream. I have some new fruits i want to use."

#dc x dp #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #jonathan kent #jon kent #superboy #dc robin #damian wayne

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felassan · 3 months ago

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David Gaider on Zevran, under a cut for length:

"I was going to skip over Zevran, honestly, as I felt like I didn't have a lot to tell in the way of stories about him... but I know he still has some (ardent) fans. Plus, on reflection, I thought maybe I DO have a few things to say. 😅 Sooo we'll see how this goes. Zevran came along much later in the DAO process, as we were trying to round out the cast of party members. Alistair and Morrigan were well underway (as "main" characters, they were concepted very early) and I'd just started to consider who our Rogue followers might be when... things changed, a bit. See, BioWare had released a game not long beforehand called Jade Empire. It had included some same-sex options in its romances - not obscured like the way Juhani's "romance" had been hinted at in KotOR, but explicit. To this day, I have no idea who on the Jade Empire team was behind it, or why. More to the point, the same-sex options had received a lot of attention and praise - almost universal praise, in fact. In 2005, everyone was just pleasantly surprised. And I don't recall if I went to James and asked about it or if he came to me to suggest DAO should include it. The latter, I think."

"You might ask "Aren't you gay, Dave? Weren't you already pushing for this?" And the answer to that is, emphatically, "no, not at all". It might seem odd looking through the lens of 2024, but there was no talk of 'representation' or 'diversity'. Not at any level where we were aware of it, anyhow. Today, fans argue about how MUCH representation to include and whether it's done well enough... the idea that, less than twenty years ago, it being included *at all* was very much in doubt feels so far away. But, back then, I'd always assumed my private life and my work in games would never meet. So I think it was James who brought it up, because I remember being startled. Pleasantly so, of course. Now I had to look at our two rogues and figure out how this would apply. I sketched out the female of the two (who was taken on by Sheryl Chee) and then looked at the male - he who became Zevran. I'd been reading about the CIA and one thing that stuck with me was how they'd (allegedly) recruit gay men as assassins because they rarely had familial ties. Zevran wasn't going to be gay (bisexuality wasn't a question of representation, but a cost-benefit compromise) but that was the inspiration."

"Then there was the question of how "flamboyantly" I was writing this character, whether that might be too stereotypical? I don't remember how it arose, but I had too many "flamboyant" friends to do anything other than double down. This character was gonna be Zorro the goddamn Gay Blade, that's what. So that's how Zevran happened. Fun, a bit nihilistic, maybe a bit too overtly flirty for today's audience but very confidently *sexual*. Everything I'm not, so I'll admit it was an interesting exploration to dig down and find that voice somewhere inside. He was the anti-Alistair, and I needed that. Casting him was difficult. Caroline always tried to go for authentic accents, when we could, but for some reason this was getting us nowhere. I think back, and I suspect it's because I hadn't yet learned the lesson to not use terms in casting descriptions I thought were universal... but were not. What do I mean by that? Well, there was one write-up that said "drow elf". Now, I know what a drow elf is. It wasn't even important to the description, but the director saw the word "elf", and you know what we got back? A Keebler elf. Like a leprachaun, high and sweet and cutsie. Can you imagine?"

"In this case, I think it was the use of the word "assassin". Combine that with the sorts of roles many Hispanic actors in LA probably are asked to play, and all the auditions we were getting were 150% dark, mean, and gritty. 🫠 So we widened the casting call a bit, and this led us to Jon Curry. I knew Jon wasn't Hispanic, but what I wasn't prepared for when I flew down to meet the DAO actors was that he's this extremely tall, extremely Nordic looking dude who just happened to do the most amazing Antonio Banderas impression. Watching THAT man channel Zevran was... more than a bit surreal. 😅 And he had fun with it. As soon as we gave him the go ahead to play the fun and flirtiness to the hilt, that's exactly what he did. Over the few days where we found Zevran's voice, it totally supplied me with something I could hold in my head when I went back to Edmonton and finished writing him. Zevran was funny enough that the fans liked him. The only part of the reception I thought odd was the occasional comment by a male player who felt "tricked" into having sex with Zevran. "You mean... that part where he invites you to his tent for a sensual massage?" "Yes! I was expecting a massage!" "He literally says the massage is sensual." "Well he wasn't clear enough!" This is where I first came to the conclusion that a certain number of our players just don't know how to people. And that maybe an adjustment to the way we approached the messaging (or massaging lol) of romance was in order. If I could go back, would I change anything? Maybe I'd remind the systems team Zevran should really be able to pick a lock. And maybe not allow him to die. We had no idea we'd need to import these choices into the future - we kinda thought DAO was "one and done". Not so much, as it turned out. 😁"

[source thread]

David Gaider: "there's something to be said about how Zevran flirted and even had sex with you because he thought that's all he had to offer... not just you, but anyone. And when he realized you wanted something deeper, suddenly he was on unsteady ground and it truly unsettled him. It was fun to explore." [source]

User: "So David - besides loving the fact that the third image you picked is a gay sex scene - what happened in DA2(DAE - come on) with Zevrans design?" David Gaider: "Check the ALT text. It wasn’t a custom sculpt, so that’s as close as they could get it. Which… was not close." [source]

User: "Just to make sure I fully understand: the director (was it the voice director?) saw the word "elf" and thought you were looking for someone high, sweet, and cutesie?" David Gaider: "Yeah, this was from back before we managed VO in-house. The voice director in this case just didn’t have an association with “elf” like some familiar with fantasy would." [source]

#dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #jade empire #lgbtq #alistair theirin #fav warden #morrigan #queen of my heart

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lazycats-stuff · 11 months ago

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What about Batfam x male reader where the reader was actually the first child Bruce adopted and he was the practice child. He hated growing io because Bruce had really no idea what to do and then the other kids came along and now Bruce kinda understood what to do. He hates family time because he never felt like family, he was just some doll the others could practice on so later they wouldn't make mistakes. And i imagine at some point they snap. I feel like what if Damian brought over Jon for dinner and Jon was like "oh I thought Dick's the oldest, you never told me about (reader)" and reader just slams down their fist and goes to their room. At this point the rest of the family try to comfort them but the reader only screams about how they never were a son or bother, they were only a practice doll for them to use and then throw away

This has angst written all over it... Ah. Angst train it seems... Also, I think I changed the end a bit, but that's fine...

Summary: (Y/N) was nothing but a test child for Bruce. He finally lets them have it

Warnings: angst, resentment, author sucks at angst, but hey, I tried, yelling, mentions of anxiety, the fam is trying, (Y/N) is mad beyond belief, implications of child neglect... If you can call it child neglect.

(Y/N) (L/N) was the oldest member of the Wayne family and the first child that Bruce had adopted. (Y/N) didn't have a good life at all before he met Bruce. (Y/N) could also argue that Bruce didn't treat him well as well, since being emotionally unavailable is not a good trait to have when you have children.

As the years went by, he hated growing up in the manor and with Bruce. He had food, a roof over his head and some sort of education. But that wasn't enough. The feeling of resentment that (Y/N) had has only grown as the years went by.

The feeling of being a test to Bruce, to see what he need to improve made his blood boil. He was a test pancake for Bruce and some sort of feedback to Bruce. It made (Y/N) mad beyond. Bruce could have gotten his shit straight when he started to have him as his legal child.

(Y/N) wished that he could forget everything about Bruce. About the family too. Even before Dick came, resentment building up in him nearly exploded. Looking back, he should have exploded on Bruce and Dick... Maybe even punch them. Maybe he should have done it.

When Dick came, (Y/N) saw signs that Bruce was improving, but he didn't show that to (Y/N). Years went by and Damian came. To say that Damian pretended that (Y/N) didn't exist is an understatement. (Y/N) tried to get closer to Damian, but Damian always pushed him away. (Y/N) took the signs and gave up, sadness and anger boiling inside of him. But he did observe Damian and Dick. In matter of a few days, they were close.

Dick did it without even trying.

So, (Y/N) has decided to alienate himself from the family, at least until he gets enough money to leave. Thankfully, the resentment towards Bruce and the rest of the family made him even put everything he had in school, even though no one cared about it. He had straight As and he was on his way to go to college that was far away from here. He knows that he can do it.

Even as Tim and Jason came, (Y/N) tried to be close to them, but none of them cared. None. (Y/N)'s solace became his own room and would avoid the family at all costs until it was time to eat where he had to step out. That only solidified the fact that he was going to leave as soon as possible.

Either way, he just had to alienate himself and move out. Then, everyone in the house would be happy.

However, everything would turn on its head when Damian would bring his boyfriend Jon over to meet the family and by default (Y/N). If only (Y/N) knew what would happen.

Dinner rolled around and came down to eat. He didn't expect to see Jon, but was nice to introduce himself to Jon, trying to be nice and just get this stupid dinner over with. He put some food on his plate and just ate in silence while everyone else talked.

He listened to bits and pieces and just stayed silent. He finished his plate quickly and pushed it away and sipped at his water, just being polite and getting ready to leave back at his room.

" Damian, you didn't tell me anything about (Y/N)... I thought that Dick was oldest of the brothers. " Jon said and (Y/N) froze.

Damian didn't tell Jon about him...

(Y/N)'s anger boiled over and he slammed his fist into the table before standing up quickly, knocking the chair over. Everyone got startled at the actions and watched in silence as (Y/N) left the dining room.

After a few seconds they all jumped into action, trying to stop (Y/N) to comfort him. (Y/N) slammed the door of his room shut, locking to make sure no one could enter, before he broke down on his bed. He hugged his pillow and sobbed into it.

It shouldn't hurt like this. He should have been stronger than this. Not cry over them.

" (Y/N), please open the door. " Bruce said through the door.

" Please, we just want to talk. " Dick added and (Y/N) snapped at that, anger boiling over once again.

" Talk?! TALK?! Stop acting like you care! " (Y/N) yelled at the top of his lungs.

" We do care. " Jason started.

" You don't give a single flying damn about me! I was never a son or a brother to anyone! I was only a test toy to Bruce so he could see what he could fucking improve! I was never a fucking brother either! Damian fucking proved it! " (Y/N) yelled at the top of his lungs, tears streaming down his face.

Everyone stayed silent and (Y/N) sobbed his heart out. Damian swallowed hardly, realizing what he did and how that hurt (Y/N) deeply. Maybe he shouldn't have...

Everyone glanced at each other. They stayed silent as they listened to (Y/N)'s sobs. Just how much pain did they brought up onto him?

" (Y/N), look- " Bruce started and (Y/N) screamed again.

" Don't you dare care right now! I'm moving out in a few days anyway and I don't need your pity or apology! " (Y/N) yelled, trying to wipe the never ending stream of tears.

" Moving out?! " Bruce yelled, eyes wide in shock. He know he has no right to tell (Y/N) what to do, but something flared up in Bruce. " No, you're not moving out! You are going to stay put because we have to solve this problem! "

" Are you shitting me Bruce?! Work things out?! "

" I'm not shitting you! I have to make things right with you! You are my son too! " Bruce yelled through the door.

" I don't give a single damn about any of you! "

Bruce took a deep breath, trying not to explode. He knows he has no right to be angry, but (Y/N) was still his son. " (Y/N), I am your dad and we will solve this problem. "

" We won't solves shit Bruce! "

" (Y/N), please, " Tim started, but (Y/N) cut him off. " Shut up Tim! "

Tim bit the inside of his cheek and stepped back.

" (Y/N), " Jason started, " You need to calm down, you'll give yourself a heart attack. "

(Y/N) wanted to scream even more, but he felt like he was going to die from this situation.

" Shut up, all of you! "

Now Dick started. " (Y/N), we may have been bad brothers- "

" May have?! You were- No, you are the worst brothers! " (Y/N) yelled and clenched his fists as he started facing around the room.

Dick sighed and stepped back. At the moment, everyone knew that (Y/N) talking to them without yelling at them and more importantly, he needed to calm down first.

But with how much anger and resentment there is, it is going to take a while.

" Lets leave (Y/N) alone for a while. He needs to be alone for now. " Bruce said and gently moved everyone away from (Y/N)'s doors, who was inside, trying to breathe more normally. He felt like he was going to jump out of his skin in the next few moments. He calmed down after a while, but he was still anxious beyond belief.

Unfortunately, the threat of moving out is just a threat and not a promise. (Y/N) sighed as he sat down on his bed. It was a stupid move to say that while he didn't have everything secure yet. Stupid.

(Y/N) went to the bathroom and washed his face and drank some water, to soothe his soon to be sore throat. It won't be nice to talk in a few hours.

Either way, it's better than leaving this room in order to face his siblings and dad. No, they are just roommates here, until (Y/N) can move out and just finally cut them out of his life.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

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stevieschrodinger · 2 months ago

Text

Part One ThirtyNine

prompt from @mugloversonly @after-the-end-times @spectrum-spectre

It’s a little odd having a birthday banner hanging across the Christmas Tree, but everyone was pretty determined that this is Eddie’s birthday, and that’s a totally different thing to Christmas Eve. So everyone is here; Joyce even baked a proper birthday cake, and now they’re doing the thing where they bring out the cake and everyone sings.

It feels bittersweet to Steve; Eddie’s first birthday. It was a year ago today that Steve pulled Eddie out of the pool. A year ago today Eddie came back to him. He remembers vividly struggling to get Eddie up the stairs. Cleaning all the filth off him. How he’d looked, with no hair at all, all skin and bones, wobbling his way down the stairs. The noise he’d made the first time he ever tried bacon; the startled look on his face the first time he’d ever hiccuped.

Eddie stays where he’s been put, sitting at the head of dining room table, proudly wearing a Birthday party hat. Eddie’s been to a couple of birthdays this year, mainly for the kids, so he knows what’s coming. He looks fucking delighted at the sight of the cake, but he still checks, “I can blow out the candles?”

“Yeap,” Steve tells him.

“Make a wish first!” Joyce calls.

“I wish-”

“Nooooooo!” probably half a dozen people yell, “keep it a secret or it won’t come true,” Robin adds. Eddie stares hard at the candles for a long second, and then he looks up, finding Steve. Steve can see the moment Eddie settles on his wish.

He’s still staring at Steve when he blows them out.

“So...things with Eddie are good then?”

It’s a little uncomfortable, but all the stuff that happened feels like it was a long time ago now. Nancy has definitely been making an effort to build a fresh friendship, and Steve can’t fault her for it, not really. Steve finds Eddie, he can see him through the doorway into the kitchen, making something with Robin and Chrissy, “yeah everything is...great. Like really great.”

“I was...a little surprised, you know?”

“Yeah that’s...understandable,” and it is. Eddie is literally a creature from The Upside Down; he didn’t even look remotely human to begin with, half of him was literally a fish. Plus Steve’s never really been interested in guys before, but he guesses there must have always been a little something there for him to take to it so easily. Granted the circumstances forced his hand a little, and he’s still had a couple of things to work through but...he feels pretty good about it. Besides, Eddie still isn’t even really human, so it probably doesn’t exactly count. Not with his lack of nipples and his downstairs situation anyway; you can’t exactly try to stick Eddie into a category...he’s Eddie, a unique and perfect thing all his own.

In the kitchen, Robin spills something, Chrissy shrieks and Eddie manically dashes for a cloth, cackling. The chaos of it makes Steve smile at them; everyone is at least a few drinks deep, Steve’s sure.

“You really care about him though?” She presses a little. Nancy’s never been able to just let it go, especially if she doesn’t understand it. She always needs to know, Steve’s pretty sure it’s not a nosiness thing; more an understanding thing.

“Yeah, yeah I love him,” Steve tells her unabashed, it is the truth, “he loves me too.”

“You’re sure it’s not just...I mean you did rescue him, plus, where would he even go if you weren't together-”

“Are you suggesting Eddie has some sort of-of-of Stockholm syndrome?” Steve can’t help but laugh, a little incredulous at the suggestion.

“Well no, I just. Think you should both be sure-”

“How are you and Jon then?” Steve cuts her off. He chooses to lean into the spirit of Christmas and assume that Nancy’s concerns all come from a good place. Even so, it’s not a good intention Steve has to tolerate if he doesn’t want to. He raises his eyebrows at her, waiting.

Nancy draws breath, like she’s not done, but then clearly rethinks it and chooses her battle, Steve can see the moment when she decides not to pursue it, sipping her drink before she replies, “yeah, really good,” over her shoulder, Eddie, Chrissy, and Robs have their heads together, the conversation clearly turned serious.

“That’s good Nance,” Steve chooses to be the bigger man, “I’m just really glad you’re both happy,” he tells her pointedly. In the kitchen, Eddie’s turned to find Steve, watching him back. Steve can’t quite decipher the look on his face, but Robin’s clutching his arm, on her toes, speaking urgently to Eddie. She looks kind of panicked, which immediately worries Steve.

“Well, I mean, obviously I want you to be happy, I mean I’m glad, really glad it all worked out for you.”

Eddie has a look on his face that Steve’s pretty certain he’s never seen before. He can’t quite work out what it means other than...Eddie’s pissed. Like, really fucking angry. And he’s marching closer, shaking off both Robin and Chrissy in the process.

Steve has no clue what’s happening as Eddie approaches, pushing Steve away from Nancy to press him against the wall and then...kisses him. Steve has his eyes open, not sure what to make of Eddie’s rage, but he soon lets them slide closed. He melts against the wall. Eddie’s kissing him like he’s got something to prove. He’s almost bitey as he sucks at Steve’s lips, leaving little scrapes that don’t quite break the skin. The passion is surprising, but so fucking hot Steve leans into it fast, matching Eddie’s energy and he sucks on Eddie’s tongue, curling his fingers around Eddie’s hips to pull him closer, no longer wanting to stop to question Eddie’s motives.

Eddie pulls back, pink and flushed, an inch of space between them, panting for breath Eddie asks, “you and Nancy used to be together?”

“I-” Steve can’t help his gaze flicking side wards to Nancy, and then back to Eddie, Eddie’s eyes narrowing at the sight, something flashing in the depths, “yeah?” Steve confirms weakly.

Eddie presses closer, his claws pricking Steve’s skin through his clothes; Eddie’s never been possessive like this before, and Steve is...well they’ve had a lot of sex, and Eddie pressing himself against Steve like this, kissing him like that...Steve’s body is only reacting the way it always does, which is a little mortifying in a room full of people.

Eddie leans his face closer again, his hair brushing Steve’s forehead, his breath warm as he growls, “you had sex with her?”

“Eddie!” Steve splutters, but apparently even that is too much, Eddie has him by the wrist, not quite painful, but very harsh compared to Eddie’s usually gentle nature. Eddie turns, pulling Steve along and he...bares his teeth at Nancy, actually hissing at her on the way past.

“Eddie!” Steve starts again, shocked, this time a reprimand, “be nice!” That’s no way to behave, and Nancy is unnerved enough that she takes a big step back. Steve is dragged along behind Eddie, ending up locked into the downstairs bathroom together. Eddie pins him against the door with his body, kissing Steve soundly.

“Baby,” Steve starts, his words broken by kisses, “what’s gotten into you?”

Eddie just growls. It’s not a sound Steve’s ever heard before, and he can feel it, rumbling in Eddie’s body where their chests are pressed together, “need you.”

Eddie starts nipping at Steve’s throat, stinging kisses that makes Steve’s hips roll, looking for friction against Eddie’s thigh. His brain feels like it’s going a little mushy, Eddie’s being unusually forceful, and Steve’s vaguely aware that everyone is still out there and, probably, are now very aware that they’re shut in here together but...as Eddie’s questing fingers find the button on Steve’s jeans, he’s struggling to care about that stuff.

“We’ve got to be quiet,” Steve breathes out, a final token protest, giving in to what's about to happen. Eddie huffs dismissively, tugging down Steve’s jeans and underwear together, Steve angling his hips away from the door to help. Eddie abandons them there, bunched around Steve’s thighs, surging up for another possessive kiss. Eddie grabs Steve’s bare ass with both hands, his claws digging into the meat a little as he squeezes, pulling Steve against him.

“She not touch you again,” Eddie growls against Steve’s mouth, words choppy, “promise.”

“I...I promise baby, of course,” Eddie stares into Steve’s face, their warm breaths mingling as Eddie inspects him from inches away, like he’s searching for any hint of a lie, “no one else ever again, I swear it.”

Eddie nods once, sharply, before spitting into his palm and grabbing Steve's now, very hard cock. He had no idea he’d be into this, but possessive, bossy Eddie is lighting him up in a way he didn’t know he’d like, his brain turning to mush a little as Eddie touches him. He feels too warm, flushed and sweaty already, the world narrowed down to Eddie’s touch on him, hard and fast, intent on getting him off.

“And you,” Steve’s mouth is insisting before his brain catches up, he needs it, needs to make Eddie feel good too. Eddie doesn’t stop jerking him, but he does slow it down, leaning back a tiny bit, giving Steve space to reach past the bend of Eddie’s own arm to get to the button on his jeans.

Steve sees the fabric move. He can see Eddie’s cock desperately wriggling for freedom beneath his zipper. Eddie’s told him before that it gets real uncomfortable real fast, and Steve tuts quietly, “baby.”

Eddie’s cock forces it's way free before Steve even has the zipper half down, already having found it’s way through the slit in Eddie’s boxers, it rushes into Steve’s fingers, greeting him eagerly and tangling itself firmly there. Eddie groans, shuffling close again. The head of Eddie’s cock opens, setting sucking kisses on every part of Steve’s hand and fingers it can reach. They arrange themselves as Eddie’s hand speeds up again, “fuck, baby, yeah.” Steve’s cock is leaking, making Eddie’s hand slick, but Eddie still stops to spit again, landing the glob on the exposed head of Steve’s cock. It’s red already, and Eddie squeezes, forcing Steve’s foreskin up to roll back up and partially cover the swollen head.

Steve’s guts are tight already, the muscles in his ass and legs tensing, he can’t stop the shift of his own hips as he works his thumb in circles across the head of Eddie’s own cock. Eddie jacks him again, slow and so firm, forcing a massive dribble of pre come out of the head of Steve’s cock. Steve groans again, “baby, I’m gonna’-”

“Wait,” Eddie uses his free hand to push Steve’s hand off himself, letting his cock to wriggle free between them. It stands tall, searching, the black petals rippling.

Eddie angles Steve’s cock out, pulling the head down and towards himself, and Steve instantly knows what Eddies planning, “oh fuck baby, yes, yes please.” They’ve never done this before, but just the idea of it makes Steve hips shift, his balls going tight, the orgasm bubbling at the base of his cock, “please, now,” Steve vaguely aware that he’s whining, loud and desperate.

People can hear; he doesn’t give a fuck. He wants this.

Eddie’s cock latches to the head of Steve’s, the black petals stark against the dark pink spongy head. The fit is perfect, the slit of Steve’s cock, the head, being suckled and gently rubbed by all those little bumps, the sucking pulse feels like a mouth, the texture incredible. Eddie drags his hand upward, forcing Steve’s skin up again, his foreskin sliding over top of the petals. Eddie makes a choked noise, his free hand scrabbling again at the meat of Steve’s ass. Steve desperately locks his knees to stop himself from falling. The pulsing, sucking, pulling sensation is relentless.

Eddie moves his hand again, dragging Steve's foreskin back down, revealing the filthy sight of those jet black petals cupping the head of Steve's cock, the body of Eddie's cock writhing. Steve’s head thumps back against the door, his hips wriggling now, unable to stop himself moving in tiny little thrusts, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” Steve groans, “baby-”

Eddie leans up for a kiss. It’s messy, uncoordinated, both of them groaning and panting into each others mouths, and Steve cries out against Eddie’s lips as he comes. The pull is sharp, the stimulation on the head of his cock turning frantic as, just like with Steve’s spit on his cock, Steve’s come works to push Eddie into his own orgasm. Eddie accidentally catches Steve’s lip with his teeth, and the sting is delicious. His orgasm seems to go on forever, Eddie's cock suckling fiercely, and Eddie’s hand working him so perfectly.

Eventually, Eddie slumps forward onto Steve, Steve using his back to the door to keep them both up. “That was…” Steve starts, but doesn’t know where to go. He doesn’t know how to describe what just happened. It was maybe the best orgasm of Steve’s life.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, muffled where his face is smushed into Steve’s shoulder. The head of Steve’s dick is suddenly cold, and he figures Eddie’s dick has gone back in. They stand there for a few minutes, Steve rubbing Eddie’s back, gathering themselves. Eddie clears his throat, lifting his head so he can look Steve in the eye, “I’m sorry.”

Steve frowns, brain still a little flooded with happy chemicals, “what?”

“For before. I just...I found out about you and Nancy and I got...I got so angry. It,” Eddie makes a motion between them, a churning of his insides that he can’t express, “I’ve never felt like that before it was...like I hated her. And I needed you and I don’t understand-”

“You were jealous, baby?”

“I...yeah, it was horrible. And stupid- I didn’t – there’s no-” Eddie huffs, struggling for the words.

“How you feel doesn’t always make sense. There’s no...rules, you know.” Steve frowns, remembering, “should probably say sorry to Nancy though, you like, hissed at her which, kind of funny but still.”

Eddie looks a cross between horrified and mortified, “I don’t even remember.”

“Wow,” Steve can’t help being smug, “got it bad for me, huh?”

Eddie limply slaps at Steve’s chest, sighing through his nose, “shut up.”

Steve hums, “uh huh. We should get cleaned up.”

“Probably.”

They peel themselves apart, Steve leaning to grab for some tissue off the roll as Eddie starts to pull his pants down a little, but as Steve investigates, his finds his cock dry, “huh, where did it go?” He wipes up a little, the skin tacky with spit and precome, but otherwise everything is clean and dry, “uh...is my come on you? I can’t, uhm, find it?” He tucks himself away, pulling everything up so he can help Eddie.

“I don’ t think so?” Eddie replies, touching himself, his slit, the crease of his thighs, when Steve goes to wipe at him with the tissue, since Eddie usually makes a lot of come, there’s nothing, “I’m clean,” Eddie tells him.

Steve frowns, “did you come?”

“Yeah,” Eddie huffs, “I definitely, definitely did. That was…”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “but you’re dry?”

“Yeah,” Eddie scissors his thighs together, something he normally does when he’s spreading all the jelly like come about, “nothing there.”

“This is weird, where'd it all go? And why haven’t you, you know?” Steve feels for himself, running two fingers gently along Eddie’s slit, pushing in to part him the tiniest bit, Eddie makes a breathy little noise as Steve pulls away, “you sure you came?”

“Steve,” Eddie replies flatly, pulling his pants up and buttoning them.

“Right right it’s just...weird, right?”

Eddie shrugs, “makes it easy?”

“Yeah...don’t look a gift horse in the mouth I guess, considering we now have to go out there and face everyone.”

Eddie grins, “I like that they know.”

“Of course you do,” Steve sighs, fixes his hair in the mirror, and opens the door.

It’s after midnight; Eddie’s birthday is officially over. All the kids have gone home with Hopper and Joyce, and before everyone else heads home, since it’s Christmas, they’re going to exchange gifts now.

Steve had been, mildly mortified after they came out of the bathroom, not really wanting to face Joyce's raised eyebrows or the girls giggling...Eddie however, has been strutting around like a proud peacock, so Steve hasn't been feeling too ashamed about the whole thing. He is however, glad of the distraction of the gifts.

All the gifts are stacked under the tree, and Steve has been voted to distribute. A lot of the labels have been made from cut up magazine letters so that the hand writing won’t be recognized; to Steve they vaguely look like ransom threats.

They go around the room, opening their gifts one at a time, trying to guess who got them. They mostly work it out. Steve isn’t that interested in his own; he’s more interested in what Eddie got. The box is actually kind of heavy, and it’s pretty big.

Eddie opens it happily, pulling out a record that Steve knows he’s wanted for ages. And then...a denim jacket with no sleeves that Steve knows he was eyeing at the thrift store. Steve watches with mounting suspicion as Eddie pulls out a book he's talked about. The box, now Steve’s thinking about it, is wrapped with very familiar wrapping paper.

“Eddie, you got loads, they definitely didn’t stay on budget. Who got Eddie? Steve, was it you?”

“No, no it wasn’t me,” Steve quietly chuckles to himself. He half listens as Robin goes around the room, and every single person denies getting Eddie.

“Whoever pulled your name must know you pretty well, huh Baby? They got you exactly what you wanted.”

“Yup,” Eddie grins happily.

“Steve, come on, it must have been you, it wasn’t any of us.”

Steve just shakes his head in denial before turning back to Eddie, “baby...it’s kind of against the rules to pull your own name.”

Eddie frowns, “no it isn’t,” the whole room erupts into laughter around them.

Steve tries to clear up some of the aftermath, but it’s nearly two in the morning and he can’t be fucked really. He collapses on the couch, finishing his now warm flat soda. He can hear Eddie pottering, “we should go to bed!” Steve calls. He’s not loud, not much above speaking volume really, but he knows Eddie will hear him.

“Can we do our gifts now?” Eddie asks from the doorway.

“Sure Baby, if you want to. We’re going to be out most of the day tomorrow anyway,” they’re spending Christmas with the Hopper-Byers brigade, and Steve is kind of looking forward to it. Eddie’s second ever Christmas.

Steve heads off to his hiding place in one of the spare rooms to get Eddie’s gifts, Eddie does the same; Steve knows his are stashed out in the utility.

He’s been pretending not to know.

“Okay, me first,” Eddie says, sitting and pulling out what Steve knows is the record. Steve eyes the gift he has from Eddie; just the one, but it’s fairly big looking. Square. Steve has no idea what it could be.

Eddie likes the record; he absolutely loves the book of Metallica tabs and almost leaves to get his guitar right there and then, but Steve stops him, “tomorrow baby. We really need to sleep after this.”

Eddie laughs at himself and his own excitement, agreeing. When he opens his final gift, the guitar pick necklace, he puts it on immediately and swears he loves it so much he’s never going to take if off. Steve’s glad to hear it, even if it makes him feel, momentarily, a little weirdly possessive.

“Okay, this first,” Eddie pulls over the box, “Chrissy helped me,” he admits as Steve unwraps it, carefully pulling out the frame inside. It’s wrapped in soft packing paper, and Steve pulls that away to reveal his crown. It’s been artfully arranged behind the glass, all dried now, the tufts of grasses stand tall, still twined up with all the little flowers that Eddie had included. Clearly someone spent a very long time carefully setting it out, and it looks beautiful. Steve had carefully stored it away in a shoebox, so he hadn't even noticed it was gone. He’s...touched, by the memory of them in the woods around Hopper’s cabin. Eddie had told Steve he loved him for the first time not long after.

“Thank you...it’s so thoughtful. Thank you. I can hang this up and remember it forever, I love it.” Eddie smiles, slipping off the couch to kneel in front of Steve. Steve sets the frame down.

Eddie pulls a little velvet box out of his pocket, “I didn’t understand what it meant,” he starts slowly, “when you put this on me,” he lifts his left hand, rubbing at the ring with his thumb. “I didn’t know what being engaged was, or weddings or...any of it. I didn’t know, but you loved me anyway, and I’ve never taken it off,” Steve swallows thickly, he knows, he knows in his bones where this is going, but he lets Eddie speak. If Eddie’s saying so may words in one go, it means he’s really thought about, and Steve won’t interrupt him. “But I know now. I understand all of it, and I know I’m a guy, and...we can’t get married, but I...wanted to show you that I know. I know now, and I love you too.”

Eddie opens the box, it’s a simple silver band, thicker than Eddie’s but still, it matches. Steve isn’t sure he’d be able to speak, his eyes already feel wet, so he silently holds his hand out for Eddie to slide the ring on; it fits perfectly.

Steve feels like he’ll crack open if he tries to talk about what he feels right now, it’s too big, too much, “you measured my finger didn’t you. Before the mall? So sneaky.”

Eddie nods, his own eyes looking suspiciously misty, smiling and biting at his lip, clearly nervous, “do you like it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I love it, thank you. I love you.”

Eddie smiles, sitting up for a kiss, “love you, too.”

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #robin buckly #chrissy cunningham #eddie and chrissy #fish guy #platonic stobin

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polysucks · 29 days ago

Text

I was feeling a type of way about jeyne and sansa and letting them be teenage girls again. So I wrote a blurb to go along w my drawing. I’m not a writer so don’t come for me if it sucks.

The morning was crisp and unusually bright, the pale sun glinting off the freshly snow-dusted stones of Winterfell’s walls. A sharp wind cut through the yard, carrying with it the sound of wood clashing and boys shouting. Robb and Jon circled each other on the mud-packed snow of the training yard, their wooden swords striking with loud thwacks. Theon stood to the side, lounging against a fence post, smirking to himself with an air of smug self-satisfaction as he waited his turn.

High above, Sansa and Jeyne peered down from the gallery, bundled in woolen covers lined with rabbit fur and bright in color, their cheeks tinged pink from the cold.

“Jon’s quicker,” Jeyne declared wistfully, leaning over the railing to a better look at the boys, her breath fogging the air. “But Robb’s stronger. I’ll wager he wins this bout.”

“Jeyne, you shouldn’t wager on such things,” Sansa chided, though her voice was tinged with laughter. “Nor wager at all. It’s unbecoming.”

Jeyne turned to her, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, don’t be so pious, Sansa. You know you’re hoping Jon wins too. He’s so brooding—girls like that, don’t they?”

Sansa gasped, her freckled nose scrunching in mock outrage. “I most certainly do not! And neither should you. We’re meant to cheer for Robb; he’s the heir to Winterfell!”

Jeyne burst into giggles, clutching at Sansa’s arm. “You sound just like boring ol’ Septa Mordane. Shall I fetch my sewing and sit by the hearth instead?”

“Perhaps you should,” Sansa teased in a feigned scolding, though the corners of her mouth twitched with amusement at her friend’s candor.

The girls turned their attention back to the yard just as Robb lunged forward, his sword coming down in a heavy arc. Jon stepped aside at the last moment, snow crunching beneath his boots, and drove the flat of his blade into Robb’s ribs. Robb stumbled, laughing as he raised his hand in surrender.

“Jon wins again!” Jeyne crowed, clapping her gloved hands together. “Well done, Jon! I always knew you were the clever one!” Sansa tugged at Jeyne’s arm, loudly shushing the cheering girl with a grin that split her face ear to ear.

Their voices rang out across the yard, drawing Jon’s attention. He looked up, his dark hair falling into his eyes, and gave her a crooked smile.

“Careful, Jeyne,” Theon called from below, striding forward to take Jon’s place. “You’ll make me jealous with all this talk of Jon’s so-called cleverness.” He twirled his sword in a flashy display and pointed the tip up at the gallery. “You should do well to save some of your applause for me.”

Jeyne cupped her gloved hands around her mouth and shouted, “I will when you deserve them, Theon!”

Sansa clutched her sides, laughing so hard she could hardly breathe. “Jeyne! You can’t say things like that!”

“Oh, why not?” Jeyne replied, her voice a mix of mischief and innocence, reclaiming her seat beside Sansa and playfully slapped at the maiden’s hands as they tugged on Jeyne’s sleeves. “They love it. Just look at them.”

Below, Theon puffed out his chest, preening under the girls’ attention. Robb rolled his eyes, muttering something to Jon that made him chuckle.

Sansa shook her head, still giggling. “If Septa Mordane heard you, she’d have you scrubbing the floors of the great hall from dawn till dusk.”

“Then I’d have plenty of time to think about Theon Greyjoy and his pretty smile,” Jeyne said, fluttering her lashes dramatically.

Sansa dissolved into laughter again, leaning into her friend for support. “You’re horrible,” she said between gasps. “Completely incorrigible.”

“So you say,” Jeyne said with a grin, her breath catching in the cold air. “But do you disagree?”

Sansa only responded with more laughter. The sound of wood against wood rang out again as Theon and Jon squared off, their movements swift and precise. The girls leaned in to one another, their blankets rustling, as they watched the spar with rapt attention. Jeyne’s cheerful banter filled the air, and Sansa’s laughter rang out like a bell, bright and unguarded, as if this moment could last forever.

#I’m seriously not a writer I haven’t written anything in 15 years #jeyne poole #asoiaf #sansa stark #Robb stark #the starklings #theon greyjoy #Jon snow #winterfell #house stark #a song of ice and fire #a song of ice and feels #a game of thrones #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf fic #game of thrones #the starks #polywrites

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thestrangepoet · 4 months ago

Text

The Furrcinating Adventures of Champion, the Archives Cat | The Magnus Archives Fanfiction | Ch 1/?

Based on @ultramarinaa’s Cat!Martin AU

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

DISCLAIMER: As per usual, this is an unedited first draft that I haven’t proofread. Forgive any typos and roughness around the edges – I tend not to go back over fanfics, as they’re just a bit of fun writing for me. (I am a full-time professional writer, and if I start telling myself I need to edit and proofread my fanfics, it’ll cease being fun for me.)

This is chapter one of…I don’t know. I may continue if enough people are enjoying it. Next Chapter →

──── •✧• ────

Oh God, Martin thought to himself as fur began to emerge from under his skin, covering newly reshaped limbs and hiding sharp claws from sight, Jon’s going to be so mad at me!

Oh no, Martin panicked as blunt teeth gave way to pointed canines, this is so unprofessional of me!

Only then did Martin allow the terrible question to enter his mind – what was he becoming?

He should have known better than to pick up an unfamiliar book lying around in the archives of the Magnus Institute, the academic home of research into the paranormal and esoteric. At the very least, if he was going to pick it up, he should have done so only to tidy it away. Why he had felt compelled to open the tome and sneak a peek inside, he couldn’t say.

As the world around him lurched into a new angle, Martin could only think about the presentation his boss had delivered a few weeks prior.

Obviously, you shouldn’t be dealing directly with any artefacts of note, Jon had said dryly, tapping the large screen behind him that showed countless examples of seemingly mundane objects. We have a department for that for a reason. However, it’s not unusual for one or two to slip through the cracks; particularly books, given the extensive nature of our library. If you should check out a book as part of your research and you see the name ‘Leitner’ involved in any capacity, do not read the book. Put it down immediately. Martin, that goes double for you – if you even think the word ‘Leitner’ near a book, I want you to turn around immediately and walk back to your desk – do you understand?

Had he seen the name ‘Leitner’ in this book? There had been a torn bookplate in the front, and maybe the remaining letters had been ‘ner’...

Did it matter? He was paying for his stupidity now, Martin thought. All fur and claws and fangs, and oh, what hideous monster would emerge from what had once been Martin Blackwood?

Martin lay down, his fluffy belly flat against the floor, and pushed his newly shaped paws over his eyes. Oh, it didn’t bear thinking about! Jon would burst in at any moment, see some horrible creature, not realise it was Martin, and—

“Martin?”

As if on cue, the door to the shared office of the archival assistants opened, and in walked Jonathan Sims. “Martin, have you taken your lunch break? Tim and Sasha have already gone, and Elias has been getting very prickly about me making sure you all…oh. Martin?”

Martin had scampered under the table in hope of avoiding his boss’ gaze. Treated now to a blurry view of the man’s green socks and scuffed brogues, he watched as Jon entered the office. “Oh. Good. He’s gone already,” Jon said to himself with the air of a job well done. He turned to leave, and Martin had almost let out a sigh of relief when the man’s feet stopped.

No, no! Martin thought, Go! You can’t see me like this! I bet I’m the ugliest monster, all fangs and talons and hair all over the place!

A scarred hand appeared in Martin’s imperfect vision, scooping up the fallen book that was to blame for Martin’s plight. A new fear sprang up in Martin’s mind then – what if Jon read the book too?

He had to do it. He had to save him! Even if it meant Jon would see Martin’s disgusting new form, he had to keep Jon safe!

He lunged with a power that Martin hadn’t ever known before. A screeching roar – or a miaow, really – pierced the air, and Martin all but bodyslammed Jon’s hands, knocking the book firmly from his grip. It span across the room and slid under the bookshelf out of sight.

Now he’d done it. Now Jon would see Martin in all his revolting glory – witness what that awful Leitner book had turned him into. If he didn’t recognise Martin, as surely he wouldn’t, he’d no doubt call security, and then what would happen? Would Martin be taken down? Locked away in the tunnels for examination and research? Worse, what if Jon did recognise him? He’d know that Martin had messed up in a spectacular fashion, and he’d be so disappointed in him. Would he be the one to tell Martin nothing could be done, that the effects of a Leitner were irreversible and that they’d have to–

“Good Lord! Oh…oh, now, where did you come from, little one?”

Jon’s voice took on a bizarrely soft tone that Martin had never heard before. He couldn’t respond, however, as thin hands had latched gently around his torso and lifted him from the ground, a startled purr rumbling from Martin’s chest.

All of a sudden, Jon’s face filled Martin’s entire view. And for once, no scowl darkened his features. In fact, Jon almost looked…delighted?

Martin blinked.

“Mrrow?”

Not once in over a year of working for Jonathan Sims had Martin managed to coax a smile from the other man. All his best attempts, his best teas, his ridiculous amount of overtime to finish his reports to a standard Jon would accept, all his own smiles and attempts to cheer the man up, not one of these gargantuan efforts had been rewarded with a smile.

And now, with one confused miaow, Martin had unlocked a smile from Jon.

“How did you get in here? Did you get lost? Did Martin leave the door open again? Oh, I bet he did. I bet he did!” Jon repeated, descending into a cooing baby voice that would have had Martin howling with laughter if he could still laugh. Jon shifted the perplexed Martin to sit over his shoulder more comfortably, the book all but forgotten. “But you’re such a handsome boy! And no collar? Poor little man, have you been wandering around looking for some food and shelter? We’ll get you sorted, don’t you worry, little champion.”

What…the hell…is happening? Martin wondered, even as a big, goofy smile curled his lips.

Jon was carrying him. Out of the office. Stroking his back. Calling him a little champion and handsome.

“How about a saucer of warm milk, hmm? Does that sound good? Would that set you right, hmm?”

It was only then that Martin’s mind dragged itself out of the dazed, happy fog to piece together what Jon was saying. Why he was saying it.

Martin had not been transformed into some vicious beast from the eldritch corners of reality.

As they passed by Jon’s office, Martin caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass pane of the door.

A large cat with white and orange fur blinked back at him from over Jon’s shoulder.

──── •✧• ────

Martin was, of course, the talk of the town after everyone returned from their lunch break. Funny, then, that not one person actually mentioned Martin.

“So you’re gonna take him to the vets, right, boss?” Tim asked, rolling another roll of Sellotape towards Martin, apparently expecting him to play with it. Martin, on principle, refused, turning his nose up and huffing.

Tim, come on! You’re back, Sasha’s back, who isn’t back yet? Ask where Martin is! he thought.

“He seems healthy enough to me,” Jon replied, not looking up from the paperwork he was pouring over. “Why?”

“To get his microchip checked? Get him back to his owners?”

That made Jon look up, a flash of shock and upset clear in his widened eyes and slightly parted lips. “His ow— No, no, he hasn’t even got a collar on. No owners.”

“Right, but by law, cats have to be microchipped. Maybe his collar fell off or something?” A hint of amusement danced in Tim’s questions; Martin could tell that Tim was toying with Jon. Jon, however, hadn’t picked up on that.

“M-maybe,” he replied stiffly. “Right, yes, fine. Vets after work. But he can stay here for now. Till the end of the shift.”

Martin wandered over to Jon, sitting himself down by the leg of his chair and craning his neck up, tail swishing behind him.

Right, now that’s sorted, onto the next obvious issue in the office, Jon, he thought. Which is…the obvious and mysterious disappearance of—

“Martin’s late back off his lunch,” Jon noted, checking the office clock with a critical glance. “Could you check the archival assistants’ office please, Tim? Maybe drop him a text. Probably got himself distracted by some…particularly interesting bollards or something…”

Sure, there’d been an insult mixed in there, but Jon had noticed! He’d noticed Martin’s disappearance, and that meant Martin had to repay his kindness!

Fuelled with delight, the cat sprang up onto Jon’s lap, earning him a surprised chuckle. “Ah! Well, hello! Y-yes, you can sit there while I work, Champion. That’s fine.”

Tim snorted as he headed out of Jon’s office, arching an eyebrow at the pair of them. “Champion? Are you kidding me? He’s a classic Fluffy or Ginger or Marshmallow or something.”

“Nonsense. He’s brimming with regal strength. A Champion if I ever saw one,” Jon retorted with a sniff, deeming the argument not worth his attention beyond that and turning back to his work. “Let me know if Martin gets back to you. And if he shows up, send him in here.”

The newly named Champion stretched out lazily on Jon’s lap, settling down for a cheeky nap on company time.

Already here, Jon.

──── •✧• ────

#cat!martin #tma cats #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #jmart

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slut4thebroken · 1 year ago

Text

Favorite Toy

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x dom!reader

Summary | Jon just can’t control himself when it comes to you, but you always make sure he cleans up after himself when you’re finished.

Warnings | 18+, smut, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, objectification, cream pie, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, come eating, he’s a whore but he’s our whore, dom!reader is so mean and we love it, fluff, aftercare, sub space, a lil bit of soft dom!reader at the end

Words | 2.8 k

Notes | I don’t remember what I saw that inspired me to write this but… god bless whatever that was 🙏🏻 I might edit this again later lol

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Oh god- please.” He moaned into the kiss, grabbing your hips tightly. You continued grinding on him and pulling his hair, not responding to his plea yet. “Please… fuck.”

Mostly for your own sake rather than his, you relented. You removed his clothes and your own quickly, then placed your hands on his chest as you kneeled over his hips. He let out a choked moan when you sunk down on his cock and you bit your lip to keep your sounds to a minimum. You stared down at him, admiring his flushed cheeks and red lips that were wet from the kiss.

“That feel good?”

“Yes— oh god, yes. Please,” He said through a breath, whimpering and trying to grind his hips up into you.

You lifted your hips slowly, then lowered them just as slow. After only two more thrusts, his eyes squeezed shut and he threw his head back with a low moan, making you freeze. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you and the heat of his come against your walls.

“Hnngh- no.. no, please.” He whimpered, trying to get the stimulation back.

“Did you just fucking come?” You asked, almost in disbelief, once his body sagged into the bed and he started panting as he calmed down.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I— Normally I can last longer.” He defended, cheeks burning even redder now. “I- I can eat you out? To make you come. Please?” You let out a loud laugh, making his brows furrow.

“Oh, angel… you don’t think we’re done do you?”

“W-” Before he could even get the word out, you were continuing, fucking yourself on his length, making him choke out moans and whimpers. “Fuck— fuck, wait… Please,”

“Save it. If you didn’t want to be overstimulated, you shouldn’t have come only a few seconds after getting this pathetic fucking dick in my cunt.” You spat, making him groan. “I don’t care if it’s too much. I’m going to fuck myself with my dildo until I come and you’re going to thank me for using you instead of my other toys.”

“Fuck,” He gasped out, fingers gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, but not controlling your movements. “Oh god— thank you.” He whimpered, face scrunched up in painful pleasure.

“I’m not convinced. Should I go get another toy?”

“No! No- I’m sorry. Thank you— Thank you for using me.” He cried, staring up at you with wide, pleading eyes.

“That’s more like it.” You cupped his cheek, running your thumb over his swollen lips, then suddenly jerked your hand back and smacked him across the face. His head turned from the impact as a loud moan escaped his lips.

“I can’t believe you fuck like a goddamn virgin.” You spat, wrapping your hand around his neck and squeezing. “Is my pussy too much for you, baby? Can you not take it?” You cooed mockingly, making him whine.

“N-no I… I can take it. Please, I can take it, I promise.” He whimpered, eyes welling with tears of desperation and overstimulation.

“Hm… I guess we’ll see then, won’t we?” Your hips started more of a rocking motion as you leaned back up, releasing his neck to steady yourself with a hand on the headboard. “Well don’t just lay there like a fucking pillow princess. Rub my clit, play with my nipples, do something.”

“Sorry— I’m sorry.” He decided to do both, one hand reaching down to rub firm circles over your clit and the other rolling your nipple between his fingers. When that wasn’t enough he snaked his hand around to your back and pulled you down, his head meeting halfway so he could suck your nipple into his mouth.

“Good boy.” He whimpered against you, then kissed his way to the other one to give it the same treatment. “This is why you’re my favorite toy, baby. You do exactly what your purpose is— make me feel good. Sure you can get a little eager and come embarrassingly fast but the pros definitely outweigh the cons.” He whined at the subtle degradation, but you could feel his cock twitch against your walls.

“Don’t tell me you’re about to come again?” You scoffed in mock disbelief, making him lean up even more so he could bury his face in the crook of your neck and trail kisses across it. “Awe, honey… Are you getting a little shy?” You cooed, running your fingers through his hair. “Don’t be. I think it’s cute— reminds me of how desperate I can make you.” You chuckled, making him whine.

“Go ahead then. Make another fucking mess— but just know, you will be cleaning it up later.” He let out a strangled whimper as his whole body stiffened, then started twitching and spasming. “There you go, just get it all out, darling.” You cradled his head and slowed your hips to a stop when his orgasm finally faded. “You make the cutest little whimpers when you come.” His cock twitched inside you again, making him release a pained whine.

“But let’s see now… That was two orgasms for you, and how many for me again? Oh that’s right. Zero. All because you’re a greedy little slut who can't wait longer than a few minutes before coming.” You spat, roughly pulling on his hair to move him away from your body so you could see him. “Fucking pathetic. First I have to do all the work, then you can’t even make me come.”

“No- no… ‘m sorry.” He mumbled. Of course he’s already worn out before you’ve even started.

“God— look at you.” You took his cheeks in one hand and turned his face side to side, examining him. “So fucked out already. You getting tired, baby?”

“No… ‘m awake.”

“If you’re not, you will be soon.” You started riding him again, chasing your own orgasm now. You threw your head back with a low groan, listening to his pained moans and whimpers. “I can’t believe a cock this good is attached to a pathetic little boy who can’t control himself. It’s a shame really.” He let out a choked sob and despite the fact that he was all but begging you to stop, he still continued rubbing your clit, bringing you closer to the edge.

“But it’s okay. I know how to handle bitches like you; just ignore them. Let them whine and beg and tire themselves out until you have a pliant, fucked out toy. I can tell you’re almost there, baby. Just let go.” He whined and squirmed, tears of humiliation and overstimulation brimming in his eyes, making the pale blue all the more beautiful. “I know all you want is to be my good boy, so just let go.” You whispered, gaze trailing all over his face, from his flushed cheeks to his red, swollen lips. “You can do it, angel. I’m right here— I got you. Just let go for me.” He let out one last pathetic whimper as a tear rolled down his temple into his hair. His bottom lip was trembling now and you leaned down to give him a soft kiss.

“There you go. I’m so proud of you, honey. Just let me make us both feel good, yeah?” He bit his lip and nodded slowly, making the corners of your lips turn up.

“Think you can come one more time?” He whimpered and averted his gaze, and for a second you almost thought he was about to say no or the safe word.

“Yes.” He whispered instead, making your heart flutter.

“Good boy. You’re so good for me.” You cupped his face, running your thumb over his cheek bone. “I know you can’t help it, baby. It makes me feel so good though, knowing how much you like it.”

“‘m sorry.” He whimpered.

“I know, angel. It’s okay. Make me come and I’ll forgive you, okay?” He nodded and you gave him a warm smile in return. Your breath caught in your throat and your hips stuttered when he rubbed your clit faster and harder. “That’s it.” You said through a breath. “Just like that.”

You could feel yourself nearing the edge, so you forced yourself to continue even though your legs were starting to burn. When his pained moans turned into desperate whimpers, you knew he was close too. Trailing a hand down his chest, you brushed your fingers over his nipple, then pinched lightly, making his back arch into your touch as he let out a choked moan.

“Oh god—“ He whined, more tears falling. “Fuck, I- I’m close…” He whispered.

“Yeah? Keep it up, angel— doing so good for me, I’m almost there.”

“God- it hurts.” He whimpered, body conflicted on whether it wanted more or less of the stimulation. You released his nipple and slowed into a rocking motion, making him whine.

“What’s your color?” You asked softly, just wanting to be sure. His brows furrowed as his hips squirmed under yours.

“Green…” He muttered, cheeks flushing. You brushed his hair out of his face a little more and he closed his eyes at the gentle touch.

“Tell me the second it changes, okay?”

“I will.” You could tell he was getting needy again after being so close to another orgasm. You suddenly picked up the pace and started bouncing up and down, making him throw his head back with a strangled moan. When you rested your hands on his chest for extra support, his free hand shot up to hold your arm, so you grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers before pinning it to the bed.

“Please.. Want you to come.” He whined, rubbing your clit impossibly faster.

“I will, baby. Almost there.” You said through a breath. He stared up at you with half lidded, glossy eyes, his lips parted in a silent moan as his chest heaved. “You look so perfect like this.” You whispered, making his already flushed cheeks turn even redder. “My pretty boy.” He whined and gripped your hand tighter in response.

If the feeling of hot come hitting your walls wasn’t enough of an indication, his eyes squeezing shut and the long, strangled whine he let out made it obvious. His fingers on your clit faltered, but quickly picked up again once his orgasm started to fade.

While part of you wanted to edge yourself and keep torturing him, you couldn’t hold back at the sound of his pained whimpers, so you let yourself fall over the edge. It was hard to keep up the movement of your hips through your orgasm, but he maintained steady pressure on your clit, letting you ride it out.

“Fuck, good boy.” You groaned, dragging your nails down his chest as your other hand tightened around his. His breath hitched at the sting, but you could feel his cock twitch nonetheless. You panted as you calmed down, needing to bat his hand away from your clit once you got too sensitive.

“Ready to clean up your mess?” You asked, still breathless. He nodded, staring up at you with wide eyes, wincing when you lifted yourself off his softening cock. You moved quickly, shuffling up his body until your legs were on either side of his head. “Every drop, okay?” He nodded again, then eagerly wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you down onto his face. He focused mostly on your hole, licking up your shared arousal and fucking his tongue inside you. When you pulled back, he whined and looked up at you, wondering why you made him stop. You reached down and scooped up some of his come, then sucked it off your finger, making his lips part as his eyes widened.

“Tastes good. Want some?” You asked, even though he was already tasting it. He nodded dumbly and you scooped up some more then put it in your mouth and grabbed his cheeks to keep his mouth open as you leaned over him. He let out a choked moan when you spit his come into his mouth and you could practically feel how warm his cheeks were getting under your hand.

“Swallow.” He whined and averted his gaze, but did what you said. “Good boy.” You lightly hit his cheek then got back into position over his face. He picked up where he left off eagerly and you placed a hand in his hair to hold him against you. Your legs were starting to shake and you desperately needed to stretch your knees, but you didn’t want to stop— not yet.

“Enjoying yourself?” He moaned in agreement, making your hips buck against his face. “Yeah I bet you are. Fucking filthy— lapping up your own come from my pussy like a fucking dog.” He whined and looked up at you with furrowed brows, his eyes becoming glossy with tears. “Isn’t that right, puppy?” The new pet name had him working even more enthusiastically, sucking and licking the come out of you and occasionally giving your clit some attention.

Originally you weren’t planning on coming again, you were just going to have him clean up his mess and that was it. But you forgot how talented he is with his mouth…

“You want me to come on your face?” He released a muffled “yes!” against you, not bothering to pull away just to speak. You suddenly lifted yourself off of him and laid down to give your legs a break, making him look at you like a kicked puppy. “Get to it then.” You said, gesturing to your lower half. He quickly got up and settled between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold you as he continued. You sighed and reached down to pet his hair, not yet grabbing it, much to his dismay. You moaned lowly and his eyes snapped up to your face.

“At least you don’t eat pussy like a virgin.” You smirked, watching him avert his gaze. “Don’t be embarrassed, honey, it was a compliment.” It wasn’t really a compliment though, which he seemed to pick up on.

The sound of him slurping up your shared arousal was loud compared to your stifled moans and you let your eyes fall shut as you focused on your impending orgasm. When he started whimpering and whining though, you opened your eyes again, finding his hips grinding against the bed.

“Greedy fucking slut. Trying to come again?” He whined and looked up at you with furrowed brows. You could tell he was trying to stop the movement of his hips. “If you like the taste of your own come this much, maybe I shouldn’t let you come inside me anymore. Maybe I’ll just have you come in a cup so you can drink it instead.” He released a muffled whine as a protest.

“How about this, you make me come in the next 30 seconds, and I’ll let you keep coming inside. Sound fair?” He nodded enthusiastically, making you smirk. “Alright. Clock starts now.” The only reason you gave him this challenge was because you’re already close. You like having him come inside just as much as he does and you’re too hedonistic to deny yourself that pleasure.

He ate you out desperately, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, and you didn’t even bother with counting because you knew you were only seconds away from your orgasm. Tightening your grip on his hair, you pushed him into your cunt, making him whimper. Finally you fell over the edge, letting out a low moan and grinding on his face as you held him close enough to suffocate him. But he didn’t even attempt to protest, not when you were literally coming on his face. Once your orgasm finally started to fade, you pulled him away, making him whine.

“C’mere, pretty boy.” You said softly. He crawled up the bed and laid by your side even though most of his body was on yours anyway. You grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and wiped his face before letting him lay on your chest. “Such a good boy. Made me feel so good.” You cooed and he snuggled into your chest even more as he hugged your torso. You ran your fingers through his hair and he let out a satisfied hum.

“How are you feeling, honey?”

“Good. Deep.” He mumbled. The first time he said that, you didn’t realize that he meant deep into sub space and he had a hard time getting the words out to explain. But now you know that it’s as close as he can get to giving you a heads up about the way he’s feeling.

“Tired?” He hummed in agreement. “Me too.” The exhaustion hit you full force once your orgasm finished and you were just laying down.

“I love you.” He mumbled sleepily, making the corners of your lips turn up as your heart fluttered. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head before responding.

“I love you too, angel.”

Taglist

@scarecrow-jon-babe @quietnymph11 @obsessiveimpulses

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader smut #dom!reader #sub!jon #I want to ruin him #so badly

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sugar--brown · 4 months ago

Text

A bit of fluff

Because we need more fluff to balance all the angst people are creating with the cat!Martin AU by @ultramarinaa

I'm preparing a proper big fic, but meanwhile I made this.

What were the chances to read a book made of only two pages and turning into a cat because of it only a few months after your promotion?

Not much. Martin was sure of that. As sure as the fact, he was in deeeep troubles. What would his boss say?! Turning into a cat should be pretty high on the scale of being unprofessional. Especially after introducing himself as the incompetent fool who let dogs run free in the archives! Jon will be so disappointed and annoyed! He was toasted!

Maybe... Maybe he could fix this? Maybe if he could read the book backward…?

Martin took a tentative step forward and immediately face-planted on the floor. Right. Four legs instead of two. That was great.

He meowed - gosh! he meowed! - pathetically before standing up, ready to make another attempt. But this time, everything was blurry.

… why was everything blurry?

Oh. His glasses. Right. Face-planting on the floor meant losing your glasses. Strange thing that his clothes disappeared with his body, while his glasses stayed the same…

Ah. Great. He couldn't put them back on. Because he was a cat. Without hands. Just very big and soft paws.

He really needed to fix this before anyone sees him!

Staggering a little, Martin began to walk cautiously toward the evil book. He was scared - heck! even terrified - of it. But what could it do more? Turning him into another type of cat?

With apprehension, Martin used his front right par to hit the book quickly. Nothing happened. Ready to bolt backward, he very slowly peaked at the fourth cover.

A wonderful fairytale where only the purrest love can help the hero to save the damsel.

Ah. Ah. Ah. Very funny.

Annoyed, Martin hit the book so hard that it flew away, landing between cardboard boxes full of statements. Great! He was already sick of it!

Two hands grabbed him and lifted him up.

“Hello!” cooed the stranger who just grabbed him without any warning.

Martin meowed and hissed in panic, squirming with all his might. But the stranger hugged him against their chest and started scratching him behind the ears. Oooooooh that was good…

“There, there, it's okay now. You are safe. I don't know how you got here, but I promise I won't hurt you.”

Wait. That voice… was it…?!

“I'm Jonathan, what's your name?”

Martin's eyes grew wide in shock. That was Jon! His boss! His prickly, cold-hearted, boss! And he was cooing at him like he was the cutest thing in the world.

Oh gosh… he was in deep troubles.

“Hey bossman! Did you find Martin? He was supposed to-... is that a cat?”

Tim appeared around the corner, clearly amused by the scene. Jon immediately stopped cooing and scratching Martin's ears, becoming all tenser and professional.

“Ah. Yes, it is… it is a cat. I caught it before it can do any damages.”

Hey! Martin wouldn’t have done any damages! He knew he wasn't the most graceful person, but he wasn't that clumsy. …right?

“What are you all doing back there? Oh! That's a very cute cat, Jon.”

And here was Sasha. Each second was more humiliating than the last. Martin really wanted to run and hide somewhere dark, tiny and safe right now.

“Do you know where it comes from?” asked Sasha, getting closer to inspect Martin.

“No, I just heard him. He doesn't have any tattoos or tag on him.” answered Jon, putting unconsciously a possessive hand on Martin's back. “I have not the faintest idea how he arrived here.”

“Ha! You know cats, boss, they are real champions when they want something!” laughed Tim.

“Champion… that's a good name.”

“Wow! You are already naming him? You move fast!” teased Tim with a smirk.

“We can't keep him, he may have an owner already.” added Sasha, more pragmatic.

“W-well… We can't call him ‘the cat’, that would be properly ridiculous.”

If Martin didn't know better, he would have thought Jon was embarrassed. But he couldn't, he was never embarrassed. On the other hand, he hadn’t reacted like this with the dog so…

While he was lost in his thoughts about his ridiculously cute boss, the group had moved on back to the break room.

Wait. What about the book?! And his glasses?!

Martin was almost able to escape, but Jon's soft hands captured him over his shoulder at the last second. But that didn't stop him to agitated his fluffy paws with a few panicked meows.

“What's wrong, Champion?” asked Jon, looking back with surprise. “Oh, good spot! There are glasses on the floor.”

Martin had half a hope to see Jon putting his glasses on his nose so he could see, but of course, he didn't. Instead, he inspected them before putting them in his pocket with a disgusted face.

“Aren't they Martin's?” asked Tim with curiosity.

“Yes.” groaned Jon. “He must have lost them while clumsily searching for a statement. I still don't understand why he had been assigned here. He clearly didn't have the competences to-... hey!”

Martin had escaped Jon's grasp with a hiss. He knew he wasn't good at his job, but that didn't mean he wanted to hear it!

Before Jon could grab him again, Martin flew under a shelf, deep enough so he couldn't be grabbed. He heard the others shout in surprise and agitation, but he was too agitated to pay attention.

He vaguely heard Tim saying to “cut him some slack” and Sasha guessing that “champion surely needs space”. And Martin decided to do just that. He would stay here until everyone was gone, and then he would find the book to turn himself back.

Hours went by. And Martin must have snooze at some point because when he focused again, everything was calm and quiet. Tentatively, he came out.

Nothing to worry about. The lights were off and Tim and Sasha weren't here any more. So, he walked as silently as possible to where he had launched the book.

Until he heard a groan.

Martin froze. And slowly, oh so slowly, turned his head.

Jon was still here. In fact, Jon was so focused on his work he hadn’t noticed Martin. So he could have continued, but… something was off. Jon didn't look… healthy. Or at least less than usual.

He seemed barely able to not passed out. He was pale, sweaty and his eyes were unfocused.

… when was the last time had Jon eaten? They didn't see him going out of his office at lunch…

With a sigh, Martin shook his head and walked to the break room's fridge. To be fair, he was a bit hungry himself. And he knew his fish salade was in here. He always brought double portions in case someone forgot their lunch.

It took a lot of time and effort, but Martin was able to open the fridge and to drag the dish to Jon's office.

“Champion? You're out? What are you… oh.”

Jon stood up quickly, too quickly because he needed a few second to make the world stopped spinning. Then, he knelt in front of Martin.

“Where did you… oh, you must be hungry. Right. Sorry… I'm a bit rusty at taking care of a cat. You are really smart, you know? Stealing Martin's food… I'm sure he wouldn’t mind, since he left work early to go find a replacement for his glasses.”

Martin huffed in annoyance. Why did Jon was so… harsh? Sure, he was a fool but still…

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Let me open this.”

That what he did, but he didn't eat. Maybe he needed some encouragements? Martin his best imitation of pleading kitty eyes while hitting softly the salad.

“You… want to share?”

Jon visibly melted, almost like he was ready to cry. But instead, he just sat on the floor and began eating the veggies while giving the sardines to Martin.

They shared in silence. But it was the best interaction Martin had Jon since… since ever! So he wouldn’t complain.

When they finished, Jon suddenly bent down and gently hugged Martin, bumping his head with his.

“Thank you…” he whispered in a broken voice.

And the genuine, honest, sweet, smile of Jon made Martin think that everything wasn't so terrible.

#the magnus archives #tma #martin blackwood #jon sims #cat!martin #au #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

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spacedace · 1 year ago

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Here have another dc x dp Super Serious Chaos snippet I remembered about lol

As always feel free to take this as a (too long) prompt if anyone is interested 😄

---

Ghosts and Kryptonians, as it turned out, had a bit of overlap when it came to biology.

Not much, admittedly, considering that ghost biology was largely…made up, as best as any of the League’s medical staff could figure and as best as the Yetis could explain. They were usually human shaped - at least those that had been human in life were usually human shaped - but they were made entirely out of ectoplasm, a highly mutable substance that could appear incredibly unpredictable in how it behaved if you weren’t intimately familiar with how it worked. A ghost’s biology, as much as it could be called, depended entirely on the ghost, what they thought their biology should be and how they felt at any given point of time.

Still, there were some things that were more or less standard that were familiar enough. Super strength and speed, heightened senses, flight. Fangs too, though those tend to vary a great deal more in size when it came to ghosts compared to Kryptonians. Most interesting of all though - at least as far as Jon was concerned at the moment - was the fact that like Kryptonians, ghosts could purr.

And they used their purring in much the same way as Kryptonians. Self-soothing, encouraging healing, expressing happiness or - as the case might be in the here and now - bonding.

That’s what Danny had said was the point of this purring when he’d shown up and taken stock of the situation. Elle, out of her mind on some weird strain of supernatural flower thanks to some demon deciding to try and drug her into compliance and marry her - gross, Jon was glad it had been torn to shreds, he was kinda disappointed he didn’t get to help really - was reduced entirely to very basic ghostly instincts. She’d lost human speech, lost understanding of the world around her, and lost grip on who she was. Something that could have been incredibly dangerous - and had been for the dumbass demon that had orchestrated the whole scheme, Elle had eviscerated it with a viciousness that threatened to awaken something in him if he thought about it too much - though thankfully for them Elle had some semblance of recognition of who they were.

Well. Some of them, at least.

She’d very much had not seemed aware of who most of the Justice League members that responded to the situation were and had been just as intent on doing to them what she’d done to the demon. Jon and Damian were for sure going to get a lecture later on it, but them jumping in between their out of control friend and the others had been the right call. They knew how she fought better than anyone, knew how to counter her without hurting her and how to use her own overwhelming strength and power against her if need be.

Besides, they knew Elle.

They trusted her. Even as she lost semblance of her form and started looking more like…well okay Jon couldn’t really say what Elle looked like at the time. Damian called it eldritch and Jon can’t help but agree that it was the right word for it. Looking at her straight on for too long while she’d been in attack mode hurt and his brain sort of just…slid off any attempts to describe just what he was seeing when he looked at her. So eldritch seemed the right fit, even if he felt a bit bad having to describe her as such. Elle hated Lovecraft with a fiery passion, she’d despise knowing that anything associated with him was applied to her.

Jon was getting distracted. The point was, even if Elle was reduced to base ghostly instincts and acting aggressive and trying to eat Green Lantern, Jon and D knew that she’d never hurt them. And for the record they’d been right!

She’d frozen in the air as they dove in front of GL and into her line of sight, furious screeching going quiet and form settling back down into a more familiar - and comprehensible - shape and let loose a series of chirps and trills and whistling notes. And while no one could understand exactly what they meant, Jon and Damian could feel the emotions she put into the sounds. Happiness and relief and safe-safe-safe that made them realize that some of her aggression must have been from thinking that something had happened to them.

The next thing either of them had known they were wrapped up in a whole lot of Elle - body significantly more human-shaped, though still a bit indistinct when it came to her features - as she gave low rumbling purrs. She wouldn’t let anyone else near them - hissing and growling warningly in ways that made ears bleed when his dad and Bruce tried to creep closer, pulling him and D behind her protectively - but she was at least content to not attack anyone so long as no one got too close.

“It should wear off in about a week.” Danny said, butting his head like a cat against Elle’s as he checked on them. Elle recognized her father as she had Jon and Damian and had been fine letting him close, though notable did not try and pull him in on their impromptu cuddle session. “Probably less if we can get her back to her Lair in the Zone. Having outsiders near her Grave after fighting off an enemy is probably making things worse.”

Danny drifted back towards where the League was awkwardly huddled at a safe distance, giving a comforting trill when Elle’s purring stopped and she gave a nervous little chirp. She clung to Jon and Damian a little tighter from where she’d wrapped her wispy tail around them, glowing green eyes locked on the League suspiciously, but she stayed where she was. Jon purred himself, trying to match the low frequency she’d been using earlier to draw her attention back to them and keep her calm. Damian, unable to purr but undeterred by the limitation of human vocal chords, hummed softly as well. Elle gave an adorable little mrrp and pulled them even closer to her, nuzzling beneath each of their chins in turn, purr starting back up again.

“I was under the impression Phantasma wasn’t dead in the…traditional way.” Jon’s dad said, face pinching in concern. “Or that her grave would be near…” He motioned to the dark cave around them, lit only by literal hellfire in shades of red and orange. They were roughly a fifty miles from any kind of civilization, in some mountainous location in Europe. Possibly Finland? Jon hadn’t been paying much attention outside of following Elle’s distress beacon as quickly as possible without the wind speed suffocating Damian in the process.

Danny shook his head. “Oh she’s not. She’s Mirrorborn.” He waved a hand blandly, unaware or ignoring the League’s confusion at the term, “I don’t mean that kind of grave. I mean her Grave, capital ‘G’ and all. It’s like, hmm,” He paused, looking considering before offering, “I guess the closest thing might be like a pack? Like wolves, sorta. She’s in my Grave, since I’m her Reflected.” Danny motioned towards where Elle was now happily purring again, running her very sharp - and disturbingly longer than usual - clawed fingers through his and Damian’s hair. It was soothing, even with the vague notion that he should be worried about getting sliced to bits lazily popping up at the back of Jon’s mind. “But she’s old enough to go out and make a Grave of her own, and she’s claimed those two as part of it.”

“Claimed?” Bruce asked, voice lower than usual and definitely more dangerous. He hadn’t looked away from them the entire time, even when Danny showed up.

The older ghost gave a reassuring smile, “It sounds way more possessive than it is. It just means that her Core recognizes them as people she cares about a lot.” He glanced over towards them again expression going soft and fond. “The claiming is less a mark of ownership and more of like a ‘Back off’ sign for anyone who might try and fuck with them.”

Danny waved a hand in their direction again, “It’s what she’s doing now with all the cuddling. There was danger and she couldn’t find her Grave, so she panicked and lashed out. When they showed up she went into protection mode, it’s why she won’t let you near.” He glanced over to make sure the League understood, at their various nods he continued, “The cuddling is partially letting her know their safe, but it’s also making sure they’re absolutely covered with her ecto-signature so that anything that can sense it thinks twice before trying to go after them.” Danny’s grin went cheeky, “She’s basically giving them the Infinite Realm’s version of Scary Dog privileges. There’s not much in the Zone that’d be willing to fuck with the Grave of someone in our family.”

“Hn.” Bruce said, though Jon could see that some of the sharpness had left the line of his shoulders. “She doesn’t recognize us as members of her Grave?”

Danny shrugged. “Don’t take it personally. She likes you guys a lot - you’d probably be dead right now if she didn’t, even with those two keeping her calm - but there’s a difference from being friends with someone and having them as part of your Grave.”

No one looked terribly reassured.

Possibly due to the implication that Elle could kill them all more than the idea that she’d try while in such an altered state. And probably Jon should be worried about that too, but it wasn’t all that much of a surprise, really. He’d seen Elle beat Damian at Go before. They were usually tied 50/50 these days. If she could do that, there really was no hope for the Justice League - even his Dad, though he probably shouldn’t say that out loud.

Oh well. Point was, Damian absolutely could destroy the entire Justice League - Kryptonians and all - probably without even lifting a finger if he really put his mind to it and Elle was just as brilliant when it came to wily plays and unbeatable strategies and overwhelming force.

Okay so he might, a little bit, be totally in love with the both of them and believe they were the single most impressive and unstoppable people in the universe. That had no baring on his estimation on their abilities to take over the world if they ever decided they wanted to. It did, admittedly, probably skew his thoughts on if they ever would try their hands at world domination, but only a little.

Anyway he was 95% certain he could convince them to knock it off before they actually launched any world domination plans.

99% if he had time to get Ma to make cinnamon rolls before he went to talk them down.

Not the point, really. The point, right now, was that Elle had made him and D part of her Grave. That she cared for them enough that not even being reduced to her most dangerous, aggressive state, almost completely unable to distinguish friend from foe, was enough to keep her from knowing who they were.

(J’onn J’onzz - scanning the emotions and surface thoughts of the three young heroes to make sure no one was in danger or distress - would like to note to the young man that that was also not the point.

He had the distinct feeling, however, that any attempt to bring that up would go entirely over the young Kryptonian’s head.)

“So!” Danny said clapping his hands together decisively as he flashed a wide grin at Jon's dad and Bruce, “Who wants to pack these two some bags while I get them all moved to Ellie’s Lair?”

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #jon kent #jon el kent #jon lane kent #damian wayne #dani phantom #danielle phantom #elle phantom #justice league #bruce wayne #clark kent #danny fenton #ghost king danny #j'onn j'onzz #slightly eldritch Elle Phantom #super serious chaos #Ghosts Purr #Kryptonians Purr #Damian can't purr but he's not gonna let that stop him #Justice League watching slightly eldritch Elle fuss over Jon & Damian: 👀#Danny - trying to be reassuring: Don't worry if she wanted to violently murder you she totally would have already! 😀#Jon: I would never say that Damian & Elle are incredibly dangerous & could bend the world to their will & I'm scared of that #Jon: Damian & Elle are incredible dangerous & could bend the world to their will & I love that SO MUCH about them #Jon: *heart eyes and dreaming sighing*#J'onn just looks at Clark and the people he's in love with (Lois & Bruce most notably): yeah this tracks #Bruce: *stares into the middle distance as he realizes that at this rate King Phantom is going to be his in-law before the month is out*#Clark: You can't fake your death to avoid it I'd come find you #Bruce: *disgruntled bat noises*

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novaursa · 2 months ago

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Legacy (castle black)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Both the canon plotline and timeline have been altered to compliment the story. Consider plot holes to be magic.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: of bloodline

- Next part: the pyre

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal

The soft sound of waves crashing against the shores of Dragonstone provided a rhythmic backdrop to the day. The midday sun filtered through the narrow windows of your solar, casting fractured beams of light across the ancient stone floor. You sat at a carved table, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of a goblet as you read over a missive Tywin had sent from the great hall earlier that morning. Maelor lay in a cradle nearby, his quiet coos filling the room as he batted at the dangling dragon-shaped toys suspended above him.

It was a peaceful moment—a rare reprieve from the weight of duty that pressed upon you every day. But that peace shattered with the soft but deliberate sound of footsteps outside your door. You looked up as Varys entered, his movements graceful and silent, as though he were a shadow come to life. His face, usually a mask of calm neutrality, was grave.

“My lady,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “I bring news. Grave news.”

Your heart stuttered, an immediate sense of foreboding settling in your chest. You stood, your hands tightening into fists as you moved toward him. “What is it?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended. “What’s happened?”

Varys hesitated—a rarity for the spymaster. His gaze dropped for a moment before meeting yours, and you saw the weight of his words in his eyes. “It’s about Jon Snow… your—” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “The man you raised, my lady. The one you loved as a son.”

The blood drained from your face. “What about Jon?” you asked, your voice trembling now. “What’s happened to him?”

Varys exhaled softly, his hands folding in front of him. “He was betrayed, my lady. By his own men of the Night’s Watch. Stabbed to death… on the grounds of Castle Black.”

The room seemed to spin around you, the weight of his words crashing into you like a wave. You stumbled back, your knees buckling as you grasped the edge of the table for support. “No…” The word came out as a whisper, barely audible over the pounding in your ears. “No, he can’t—he can’t be gone.”

Varys stepped forward, his expression uncharacteristically sympathetic. “I am truly sorry, my lady. The news comes from a trusted source. It is true.”

Tears blurred your vision as you sank into the nearest chair, your hands trembling. “How?” you choked out. “How could they do this? He was their Lord Commander. He—he swore to protect them, and they… they murdered him?”

Varys nodded solemnly. “It seems his actions divided the men. Bringing the Wildlings through the Wall did not sit well with many of his brothers. They called it betrayal. And so, they turned on him.”

A strangled sob escaped your lips as you buried your face in your hands. The image of Jon—brave, strong, so much like the man you had helped raise—being struck down by the very people he had sought to lead and protect was too much to bear.

“I should have been there,” you whispered, your voice muffled by your hands. “I should have done something. Protected him. Warned him.”

“You could not have known, my lady,” Varys said gently, his voice soft but firm. “Jon Snow made his choices, and they were choices born of honor and conviction. He lived as he believed, and he died the same way.”

You looked up at him, tears streaming down your face. “And what does that mean? That his honor was worth more than his life?”

Varys hesitated, his gaze steady but kind. “It means, my lady, that he will be remembered as a man who stood by his principles, even in the face of betrayal. And that is no small thing.”

Your hands clenched into fists as you struggled to compose yourself, though the grief threatened to consume you. “He was… he was my son, Varys,” you said brokenly. “Maybe not by blood, but in every way that mattered. I raised him. I taught him. And now he’s gone.”

Varys bowed his head slightly, his hands clasped before him. “You gave him the strength to become the man he was, my lady. That is no small legacy.”

But his words were little comfort in the moment. The ache in your chest was unbearable, a raw, gaping wound that no amount of logic or reasoning could ease. You turned your gaze toward the cradle where Maelor lay, his innocent face oblivious to the pain in the room. The sight of him grounded you, reminding you that life continued even in the face of loss.

You wiped at your tears, your voice trembling but determined. “Thank you for telling me, Varys. I… I need a moment.”

Varys inclined his head, his expression understanding. “Of course, my lady. If there is anything you need…”

You nodded absently, your focus already drifting as he slipped silently from the room. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your grief and the weight of the loss you had just learned to bear.

You rose unsteadily, moving to the cradle and gently lifting Maelor into your arms. His small, warm body against your chest brought a sliver of comfort, though it could not ease the ache in your heart.

“I’m sorry, Jon,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I should have done more. I should have been there.”

The soft murmurs of the sea wind brushed through the narrow windows of Dragonstone, carrying with it the faint tang of salt and the ever-present weight of isolation. You sat near the large window, your gaze fixed on the horizon, though your attention was far from the waves that danced below.

Before you, on a padded mat strewn with soft blankets, Damon and Maelor played. Damon, nearly three years old, sat cross-legged, holding a small carved lion in one hand and a dragon in the other. He made them "roar" at each other with all the dramatics of a child. Maelor, just shy of a year, lay on his belly, his tiny fists grabbing at the dragon toy Damon occasionally waved above him. Their laughter, innocent and sweet, filled the chamber, yet it barely seemed to reach you.

Your fingers twisted a strand of silver hair as your mind churned, haunted by the news of Jon Snow's betrayal and death. His name lingered on your lips, unspoken but ever-present. The image of him—of the boy you had raised, guided, and loved as your own—stabbed by his brothers, left to die alone in the snow, was a torment you could not escape.

The heavy door creaked open, and Tywin Lannister entered, his presence commanding as always. He wore a dark crimson doublet trimmed with gold, and his expression, sharp and calculating, softened slightly as his gaze fell upon you and the boys. He closed the door behind him, the sound heavy in the quiet room, and stepped closer.

“You’ve been here all day,” he said, his voice low but edged with concern. “You’ve missed the council meeting.”

You didn’t look at him, your fingers still absently twisting your hair. “The council will survive without me,” you replied softly, your voice carrying a weight that hadn’t been there before.

Tywin’s gaze lingered on you for a moment before shifting to the boys. Damon let out a triumphant roar as his dragon “defeated” the lion, while Maelor giggled and reached for the toy. Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he stepped closer, placing a hand on the back of your chair.

“I know what this is about,” he said, his tone measured. “You cannot let grief consume you.”

Your gaze flickered to him, finally meeting his eyes. “It’s not just grief, Tywin,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “It’s anger. It’s… guilt. Jon didn’t deserve to die like that. Alone, betrayed. He deserved better.”

Tywin’s expression remained impassive, though his gaze softened slightly. “The world does not often give us what we deserve,” he said. “You know this better than most.”

You turned away, your hands clenching in your lap. “He was a boy when I left Winterfell. A boy I raised, who trusted me. And I left him there. I thought I was protecting him, but… I should have done more.”

Tywin’s hand rested on your shoulder, the weight of it grounding. “You did what was necessary. You gave him the tools to survive, to lead. His choices were his own.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight with unshed tears. “And now he’s dead,” you whispered. “Because of those choices. Because of… betrayal.”

Tywin was silent for a moment, his gaze moving to Damon and Maelor. “You cannot change what has happened. But you can ensure the future remains secure—for them.”

Your gaze drifted to your sons, their innocent laughter like a balm and a wound all at once. “And what of Jon’s future?” you asked softly. “What justice is there for him?”

Tywin’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly. “Justice, like legacy, is what we make of it. But it must not come at the cost of what you’ve built here.”

You didn’t respond, your thoughts swirling like the storm clouds that often lingered over Dragonstone. Your gaze returned to the horizon, and in that moment, a quiet resolve began to take shape within you.

Tywin lingered for a moment longer, his sharp eyes studying you. Then, with a quiet sigh, he turned and left the room, his heavy boots echoing against the stone as the door closed behind him.

The chamber fell silent save for the boys’ laughter and the distant crash of waves. You leaned back in your chair, your hands trembling slightly as you exhaled. Viserion’s presence stirred faintly in your mind, the bond between dragon and rider stronger now than it had ever been. You could feel her restlessness, her growing awareness of your turmoil.

You rose slowly, crossing the room to where Damon and Maelor played. You knelt beside them, brushing a strand of hair from Damon’s face as he looked up at you with a wide grin. “Mama, the dragon wins!” he exclaimed, holding up the toy triumphantly.

You smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “The dragon always wins,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Damon returned to his game, and you scooped up Maelor, holding him close as he babbled happily. But even as you cradled your youngest son, your mind was elsewhere—far to the north, where snow fell and shadows loomed.

The room seemed to tremble as a low, resonant shriek echoed through the air. It was not loud, but it carried an undeniable power, a vibration that seemed to rattle the very stones of Dragonstone. Damon looked up, his eyes wide, and even Maelor quieted in your arms.

You turned your gaze to the window, your expression hardening as Viserion’s call reverberated through the night. It was as though she knew, as though she felt the decision solidify within you.

“I’ll avenge you, Jon,” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute. “I swear it.”

The dragon’s cry grew louder, echoing across the island like a war horn, and the storm over Dragonstone seemed to answer, its winds howling in tandem. The night had begun, and with it, the first steps toward vengeance.

The stillness of the night on Dragonstone was broken only by the faint howl of the wind and the distant crash of waves against the rocky cliffs. The moon hung low in the sky, its silvery light casting long, ghostly shadows across the ancient castle. The air was cold, biting against your skin as you pulled your cloak tightly around you, the hood drawn low to obscure your face.

Your footsteps were silent as you navigated the winding corridors and stairwells that led to Dragonmont, where Viserion slumbered. Each step was deliberate, your resolve solidifying with every quiet breath. The weight of your decision pressed heavily on your chest, but it was dwarfed by the fire of determination burning within you.

When you reached the open archway leading to Dragonmont, the heat hit you immediately. The cavern pulsed with warmth, the faint glow of molten rock illuminating the jagged walls. At the center of the cavern, Viserion lay coiled. Her massive form rose and fell with each deep breath, her tail curling around her like a protective barrier.

Standing at the entrance, as if waiting for you, was Ser Barristan Selmy. His white cloak billowed slightly in the breeze, and his expression was solemn but calm. He made no move to stop you as you approached, his hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword.

“My lady,” he said quietly, inclining his head. “You’ve made your decision.”

You nodded, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. “I have. I cannot stay here, not after what I’ve learned. Jon deserves justice.”

Ser Barristan studied you for a moment, his weathered face unreadable. “You know the risks,” he said finally. “Flying north alone, without support, into the unknown… It is dangerous.”

“I know,” you replied, your gaze unwavering. “But I must do this, Ser Barristan. For him. For myself.”

He exhaled softly, his hand falling away from his sword. “Then I will not stop you. But know this—I would have followed you into the fire, had you asked.”

A flicker of gratitude crossed your face, and you stepped closer, placing a hand briefly on his arm. “You’ve served me well, Ser Barristan. But this is a journey I must make alone.”

The old knight nodded, his expression softening. “Then may the gods watch over you, my lady.”

You turned toward Viserion, her massive golden eyes opening as she sensed your presence. A low rumble echoed from her throat, a sound that was both a greeting and an acknowledgment of your intentions. She shifted her great body, the ground trembling slightly as she unfurled her wings, the glow of the molten rock catching on her membranes.

You approached her slowly, your hand resting against her warm, scaled flank as you whispered, “It’s time, girl. We’re going north.”

Viserion let out a soft growl, her eyes narrowing in what almost seemed like understanding. She shifted again, lowering her body to allow you to climb the saddle that rested between her shoulder blades. You pulled yourself up with practiced ease, fastening the leather straps around your waist as you settled into place.

“Fly fast,” you murmured, leaning forward to brush your hand along her neck. “We have far to go.”

Viserion let out a resonant roar, the sound echoing through the cavern and beyond, shaking the very walls of Dragonmont. Her wings unfurled fully, their span massive as she crouched low, her muscles coiling in preparation.

Behind you, Ser Barristan watched in silence, his expression shadowed by both respect and worry. He gave a slight nod as Viserion leapt into the air, her powerful wings propelling her upward with a burst of heat and wind. The night sky swallowed you both as she soared through the open mouth of the cavern, the stars above glittering like cold fire.

In the great hall, Tywin Lannister sat at the head of the long table, his eyes fixed on the maps and reports spread before him. Around him, several lords and knights listened intently as he laid out his strategies. The talk was grim, centered on the looming threat of Daenerys Targaryen and her army of Dothraki, Unsullied, and her dragons.

“She will come by sea,” Tywin stated firmly, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “The Greyjoys will provide her with ships, and their rebellion will ensure they have nothing to lose. We must be ready to meet them head-on.”

One of the lords, a burly man with a thick beard, leaned forward. “And the dragons, my lord? How do we fight them?”

Before Tywin could respond, a low, guttural roar echoed through the night, vibrating the very air around them. The room fell silent, all heads turning toward the sound. A moment later, another roar followed, louder this time, accompanied by the distinct rush of powerful wings.

Tywin rose from his seat, his sharp gaze snapping to the nearest window. “Viserion,” he muttered, his expression darkening.

Jaime, who had been leaning casually against the wall, straightened, his golden hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Where is she going?”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, his mind working quickly. “North.”

One of the knights spoke hesitantly. “Shall we send riders to—”

“No,” Tywin interrupted sharply, his voice cold. “This was her decision. She’ll face the consequences, but not now. Not yet.”

Jaime stepped closer, his brows furrowed. “She’s your wife. And she just flew off into the night with her dragon. You don’t find that concerning?”

Tywin’s gaze was like steel as he met Jaime’s eyes. “What I find concerning is the chaos Daenerys Targaryen will bring to our shores if we are not prepared. That is where my focus lies.”

Jaime opened his mouth to retort but was silenced by another deafening roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of Dragonstone. Through the window, they saw the golden shimmer of Viserion’s scales as she flew northward, her massive wings cutting through the sky like a knife through shadow.

Tywin turned back to the table, his expression hard. “The dragon is her weapon, just as this castle is my stronghold. She knows her path, and I will not distract myself from mine.”

But even as he spoke, a flicker of something unspoken crossed his face—worry, perhaps, or a grim acceptance of what was to come. Jaime watched him closely, his own thoughts clouded as the sound of Viserion’s roars faded into the distance.

Far above, you clung to the saddle, your eyes fixed on the horizon as the cold northern winds began to bite at your skin. Your resolve burned brighter than the stars above, guiding you toward the vengeance that awaited. Viserion, as if sensing your thoughts, let out another roar, her cry carrying across the sea like a herald of fire and fury.

The cold at Castle Black was relentless, biting through even the thickest furs as the dread within the Wall's ancient halls grew unbearable. The air was heavy with unease, the divide between the mutineers and Jon Snow's loyalists as sharp and icy as the winds that howled across the frozen expanse.

Within Jon’s quarters, where his body lay cold and still upon the wooden table, a quiet desperation filled the air. Ghost, Jon’s massive white direwolf, lay curled protectively near his feet, his glowing red eyes flicking toward the door at the faintest sound. Around the table, Davos Seaworth, Eddison Tollett, and several others stood in uneasy silence, their breaths visible in the frigid air.

“We can’t stay here forever,” Edd said finally, breaking the oppressive quiet. His voice was low but edged with urgency. “Thorne and his men are outside. It’s only a matter of time before they try to break through.”

Davos, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, nodded grimly. “Aye, but what choice do we have? There’s no running from this. Not with Jon still here.”

Ghost growled softly, his ears twitching as though he sensed something amiss. The sound sent a shiver through the room, drawing every pair of eyes to the direwolf.

“We need reinforcements,” Davos said, his tone firm but laced with frustration. “But who would come to our aid? We’re isolated, surrounded by men who’d rather see us dead.”

“We’re not alone,” Edd replied, glancing toward Jon’s still form. “Jon’s not just the Lord Commander. He’s a Stark, and the North remembers. There are men out there who’d fight for him.”

Davos sighed, his fingers brushing over the hilt of his sword. “That’s if we survive long enough to send for them.”

A sudden noise cut through their conversation—a faint, distant shriek that seemed to echo from beyond the Wall itself. The men exchanged uneasy glances, their breath hitching as the sound grew louder, more resonant, shaking the very walls around them.

“What in the Seven Hells was that?” Edd whispered, his voice barely audible over the rising noise.

Before anyone could answer, a deafening roar split the air, followed by a sound like thunder as something massive flew overhead. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and the icy cold seemed to intensify as a distant crash reverberated through the castle.

Davos unsheathed his sword, his face pale but resolute. “Stay close. Whatever it is, it’s not here for pleasantries.”

Ghost stood, his hackles raised as he let out a low, menacing growl. The men tensed, weapons drawn as the sound of shouting erupted from outside. The muffled cries of the mutineers were punctuated by the clang of swords and the unmistakable terror in their voices.

“Something’s out there,” one of the men whispered, his hand tightening on the hilt of his axe. “Something big.”

Another roar shook the ground, this one closer and more visceral, followed by a heavy thud that rattled the walls and sent frost cascading from the ceiling. Ghost snarled, his teeth bared as he moved toward the barricaded door, his entire body stiff.

“We can’t just sit here,” Davos said, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. “We need to see what we’re dealing with.”

Edd nodded, his grip firm on his sword. “Agreed. Whatever it is, it’s got Thorne’s men rattled. Maybe it’s on our side.”

Davos moved to the door, his hand resting on the wooden barricade. He glanced back at the men, his expression grave. “Stay sharp. And if this goes sideways… protect Jon.”

He pushed the barricade aside with effort, the door creaking open to reveal the chaos outside. The courtyard of Castle Black was in disarray, men running in every direction, their cries of fear and confusion filling the air.

And there, in the center of it all, stood Viserion.

The massive dragon loomed like a creature out of legend. Her wings, partially unfurled, created an imposing silhouette against the night sky. Her eyes burned with an intelligence that sent a chill through even the bravest hearts.

The men of Castle Black were paralyzed with fear, their weapons clutched tightly but useless against such a creature. Some dropped their swords and fled, while others stood rooted in place, their faces pale and wide-eyed.

A figure dismounted from the dragon’s back, descending the saddle with practiced ease. Clad in a thick cloak of black and crimson, her silver hair catching the firelight, you stood tall and resolute, your eyes sweeping over the chaos with a calm intensity.

Davos and Edd stepped out into the open, their weapons lowered but their stances cautious. Ghost bounded forward, his growls quieting as he stopped short, his ears perking up in recognition.

“My lady,” Davos said, his voice carrying a mixture of awe and confusion. “What… what are you doing here?”

You turned to him, your expression hard but resolute. “I’m here for Jon.”

The words carried a weight that silenced even the chaos around you. As the men of Castle Black watched, unsure whether to see you as savior or threat, Viserion let out another roar, the sound shaking the very ground beneath their feet.

The North had felt fire for the first time in centuries, and it would never be the same again.

The icy wind howled through the courtyard of Castle Black, carrying with it the sinister air that clung to every man present. Viserion stood like a looming sentinel, her eyes glowing faintly in the firelight as they swept over the men assembled before her. Her massive wings partially unfurled, creating an imposing shadow that stretched across the snow-dusted ground. Every movement she made—every twitch of her tail or puff of smoke from her nostrils—sent ripples of unease through the mutineers.

You stood before them as you pulled your cloak tighter around you. Your violet eyes blazed with fury as they scanned the faces of the men who had betrayed Jon Snow, your voice cutting through the cold air like a blade.

“Bring them forward,” you commanded, your tone brooking no argument.

The crowd hesitated for a moment, unsure of who should move first, until Alliser Thorne stepped forward, his expression as hard as the ice beneath his boots. Behind him, Bowen Marsh, Othell Yarwyck, and the boy Olly followed, their faces pale but defiant. A few others shuffled forward as well, their guilt written in the stiffness of their movements and the way their hands twitched near their weapons.

Alliser’s gaze locked on yours, his jaw tight as he spoke. “You have no place here, Targaryen,” he said, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment. “The Wall and the Night’s Watch answer to no king—or queen.”

You took a step closer, the snow crunching beneath your boots as you raised your chin, your voice steady and cold. “The Night’s Watch answers to honor,” you said sharply. “To duty. Tell me, Alliser Thorne—was it honor that drove you to plunge a blade into Jon Snow? Was it duty that led you to murder the man who saved your lives?”

Alliser’s lip curled, but he stood his ground. “Jon Snow was a traitor. He brought Wildlings past the Wall—people who’ve killed brothers of the Watch, burned villages, slaughtered innocents. He betrayed us. We acted in the best interests of the Watch.”

“Betrayal?” you hissed, your voice rising as your fury spilled over. “You speak of betrayal when you stabbed a man who trusted you, who led you, who sought to protect you from a threat greater than your petty hatred? Do you even know what’s coming for you, for all of us?”

Viserion growled low, the sound reverberating through the courtyard. Smoke curled from her nostrils, and the ground seemed to tremble beneath her massive weight. Some of the mutineers flinched, their bravado faltering as they cast wary glances at the dragon.

Alliser sneered, his defiance unshaken. “You don’t scare me, Targaryen. This is the Wall. Your fire has no place here.”

You took another step forward, your voice dropping to a dangerous calm. “You think I need to scare you, Alliser? I could burn this entire cursed castle to the ground and turn you all to ash in a heartbeat.” You gestured toward Viserion, her eyes narrowing as if in agreement. “Or perhaps I could simply starve you. No supplies, no food, no warmth. How long would you last up here with nothing but your pride to keep you company?”

The crowd murmured uneasily, the reality of your threats sinking in. Even the most loyal of Thorne’s men shifted nervously, their hands twitching at their sides. Bowen Marsh’s face paled, and Othell Yarwyck glanced down at the ground, his resolve crumbling under your gaze.

Alliser opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, your voice like ice. “You will burn alive,” you declared, your words ringing through the courtyard. “Each and every one of you who raised a hand against my son. That is a promise.”

Viserion roared again, the force of it shaking the very walls of Castle Black. The torches flickered wildly, and the men cowered, their earlier defiance melting away like frost under the dragon’s breath.

Turning abruptly, you addressed Davos and Eddison Tollett, your voice softening but still carrying the weight of command. “Take me to Jon,” you said. “Now.”

Davos nodded, his face grim as he gestured for you to follow. Edd glanced once at the mutineers, his lip curling in disgust, before he turned to lead the way. Ghost padded silently at your side, his red eyes glowing with an intensity that matched your own.

As you walked away, the mutineers were left standing in the dragon’s shadow, their breaths visible in the cold air. Alliser Thorne’s defiance faltered for the first time, his gaze following you as you disappeared into the dimly lit halls of Castle Black.

The weight of your promise lingered, heavy and unrelenting. The men had no doubt that the fire you threatened to unleash was real—and that it would consume them all.

The halls of Castle Black were eerily silent, the usual sounds of men at work replaced by the faint echo of your footsteps. Davos Seaworth walked beside you, his face grim and solemn, while Eddison Tollett led the way, his shoulders squared despite the weight of the moment. At your side, Ghost moved silently, his massive white form a steady presence, his eyes fixed ahead.

As you turned a corner, a group of Wildlings, led by Tormund Giantsbane, came into view. They stood clustered in the shadows near the stairwell, their weapons still in hand, their expressions wary but curious. Tormund’s piercing blue eyes locked onto you immediately, his brow furrowing as he took in your presence, the dragon outside still fresh in everyone’s minds.

“Targaryen Princess,” Tormund said gruffly, stepping forward. His voice carried the weight of suspicion and curiosity. “You’re the one they’ve been whispering about.”

You stopped, meeting his gaze with your own, your voice steady but heavy with emotion. “I am. And I am here for Jon.”

Tormund’s lips pressed into a thin line as he studied you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nodded. “He spoke of you,” he said quietly. “Said you were the closest thing he had to a mother.”

Your throat tightened at his words, but you forced yourself to speak. “And he was the closest thing I had to a son at Winterfell. Let me pass, Tormund. I need to see him.”

Tormund’s gaze softened, and he stepped aside, motioning for his men to do the same. “Go on, then. But know this—we owe him a debt. Whatever you plan to do, we’ll stand by you.”

You inclined your head in gratitude, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

As you passed through the group of Wildlings, Ghost let out a low growl, his hackles raised slightly as he stayed close to your side. The anxiety in the air was thick, every step toward Jon’s quarters feeling heavier than the last.

When you entered the small room where Jon’s body lay, the sight before you was like a dagger to your heart. Jon was stretched out on the wooden table, his pale face still and peaceful, his dark curls framing his head like a crown. The bloodstains on his tunic were stark against the white fabric, a grim reminder of his brutal end.

Your knees buckled, and you sank to the floor beside him, your hands trembling as you reached out to touch his face. His skin was cold beneath your fingers, and the reality of his death hit you like a storm.

“Jon,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Oh, my sweet boy…”

Tears streamed down your face as you leaned over him, your forehead resting against his shoulder. “I should have been here,” you sobbed quietly. “I should have protected you.”

Davos and Edd stood silently by the doorway, their heads bowed in respect as they gave you the space to grieve. Ghost moved to the other side of the table, his low whine breaking the silence as he nudged Jon’s hand with his nose.

You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, the weight of your grief pressing down on you like the cold of the North itself. Memories of Jon as a boy flashed through your mind—his shy smile, the way he’d look to you for guidance, the pride in his eyes when he’d achieved something he thought impossible.

Finally, you sat up, your fingers brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “They’ll pay for this,” you murmured, your voice trembling but resolute. “Every single one of them.”

The room seemed to grow colder, the air thick with an unspoken tension. And then, as if summoned by some unseen force, the door creaked open.

Melisandre stood in the doorway, her red robes vibrant against the shadowed hall behind her. Her expression was serene, almost otherworldly, as her piercing gaze swept over the scene before her.

“My lady,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of prophecy. “You mourn, but do not despair. The Lord of Light has not yet abandoned us.”

You turned to her, your tear-streaked face hardening as you met her eyes. “What do you mean?” you demanded, your voice sharp with both hope and anger.

Melisandre stepped into the room, her presence like a flame in the darkness. “Death is not always the end,” she said cryptically, her gaze drifting to Jon’s lifeless form.

The room seemed to grow even colder as Melisandre stepped fully into the chamber, her presence radiating an almost oppressive heat despite the icy air of Castle Black. Her red robes swayed with each deliberate step, the ruby at her throat glinting faintly in the firelight. Her gaze remained fixed on Jon Snow, her expression serene yet filled with purpose.

You, however, froze as a sudden, chilling voice echoed in the recesses of your mind. It was not your own but felt both ancient and familiar, laced with the weight of a truth long hidden.

"She is the one."

The voice sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching as it continued.

"The one who sent the shadow to take what was yours. She sought the life of your unborn son—Damon. It was her hand that set the darkness upon you, but the old powers protected him. Protected you."

Your heart pounded in your chest, the memories flooding back. The night in the Red Keep when you were heavily pregnant with Damon—the unnatural chill that had crept into your chambers, the fleeting but horrifying image of a shadowy figure reaching for your swollen belly, and the deafening caws of ravens that had inexplicably swarmed the room, driving the shadow away. You had never understood the event, dismissing it as something random. But now, the pieces fell into place with sickening clarity.

Your body trembled with a mix of fury and horror as you turned to Melisandre, your voice low and trembling with restrained rage. “You,” you said, the single word cutting through the air like a blade.

The red priestess paused, her serene expression faltering as her gaze shifted to you. “I sense… anger in you, my lady,” she said carefully, though her voice carried a note of caution. “What troubles you?”

You stepped forward, your fists clenched, your violet eyes blazing. “It was you,” you hissed, your voice rising with each word. “It was you who sent that shadow after me. After my son.”

Melisandre’s eyes widened slightly, her composure slipping for the briefest moment. “Your son?” she repeated, her voice soft yet guarded.

“Do not feign ignorance,” you spat, taking another step toward her. “When I carried Damon, a shadow came to take him from me. I thought it was something else, but now I know the truth. It was real. And it was you.”

The air in the room grew filled with dread, even Davos and Eddison Tollett shifting uncomfortably, their hands instinctively moving toward their weapons. Ghost growled low, his red eyes locked on the priestess, his hackles rising.

Melisandre hesitated, her expression unreadable as she regarded you. Then, with a small, almost regretful nod, she spoke. “It is true,” she admitted, her voice calm but laced with something resembling remorse. “I sent the shadow.”

The room erupted with gasps, and your breath hitched as her words confirmed your worst suspicions. “Why?” you demanded, your voice breaking with a mixture of fury and anguish. “Why would you try to take my son? What did he ever do to you?”

Melisandre stepped closer, her gaze steady but no longer serene. “It was not personal,” she said softly. “It was necessity. At the time, I believed your child to be a threat to the great war to come. A child born of fire and lion’s blood, destined to reshape the balance of power. I believed his existence would disrupt the will of the Lord of Light.”

“Necessity?” you repeated, your voice trembling with outrage. “You call an attempt to murder an unborn child necessity?”

“I was wrong,” Melisandre said, her voice firmer now, though a shadow of humility crept into her tone. “I miscalculated. The forces protecting you—protecting him—were beyond my understanding. The shadow was driven back before it could fulfill its purpose. That night, I realized there was more at work than even I could comprehend.”

You took a step back, your breathing ragged as her words sank in. The sheer audacity of her confession, coupled with the cold detachment in her tone, made your blood boil. “You miscalculated?” you repeated, disbelief heavy in your voice. “You speak as if this was some minor mistake, like spilling wine at a feast. You tried to kill my son!”

Melisandre’s gaze softened slightly, though it did little to soothe your rage. “And yet, he lives,” she said, her voice quieter. “He was protected. Shielded by forces older than any of us. Forces that even the Lord of Light respects.”

Your chest heaved with anger, but something in her words gave you pause. “Forces?” you asked, your tone sharp. “What forces?”

Melisandre glanced toward the ruby at her throat, her fingers brushing it briefly. “I do not know their name, my lady. Only their power. Your blood—your son’s blood—it is touched by something ancient. Something beyond my sight.”

You stared at her, your fury mingling with confusion and unease. The room seemed to grow colder, the weight of her words pressing down on you like the icy winds beyond the Wall.

“I will never forgive you for what you’ve done,” you said finally, your voice trembling but resolute. “If you ever come near my son again—”

“I will not,” Melisandre interrupted, bowing her head slightly. “My actions were a grave mistake, and I have no intention of repeating them. But my presence here is not for him. It is for Jon.”

At the mention of Jon’s name, your focus shifted, the raw ache of your grief resurfacing. “Why are you here, then?” you demanded. “What do you want?”

Melisandre’s gaze flickered to Jon’s still form, her expression somber. “To serve the will of the Lord of Light. He brought me here for a reason, my lady. And I believe that reason lies with Jon Snow.”

Her words hung in the air, the silence in the room thick and unrelenting. For a long moment, no one spoke, the crackling of the hearth the only sound.

Finally, you turned away from her, your hands trembling as you moved to stand by Jon’s side. “If you think I’ll trust you after what you’ve done,” you said quietly, your voice cold, “you’re a greater fool than I thought.”

Melisandre said nothing, her gaze lingering on you for a moment before shifting back to Jon. Whatever she intended, you knew one thing for certain: her presence here was far from benign.

And whatever her Lord of Light intended, you would not let her—or anyone else—threaten what remained of your family.

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