#sweeten up! spell

[medicinemane]

You know, looking at a diet soda can it occurs to me that it might not be so wretched to me if the cans weren't so unpleasant

Like we know that things like color play a role in how our brain perceives things, and I realized looking at the can that they're always this bland but at the same time nasty looking silver and it just... it looks foul and I think that compounds with the fact that I also just plain don't like diet soda

My point here isn't to say anyone else shouldn't like diet soda, just how I never realized how much of an impact the can has on me not liking it... there's just something offputting about it to me

[lovetei]

Obey me demon brothers reacting to mc being hit with a "special" potion by someone and them having to deal with mc being extremely horny and dominant plus having their back absolutely blown? (Btw I love your writing🫶🏼)

It's like 1 in the morning and my phone is at 8 percent, the best time to write.

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MC was affected by this mysterious potion that makes them crave for some back-breaking fuck

Warnings: No proofreading, grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes, smut, no censoring, reader is Implied to be wearing strap or having cock (a big one), fingering them, wrong use of car hood, choking, air deprivation, wrong use of ties, ovestimulation

Parts: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Links: Masterlist

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LUCIFER

Are you being serious?

You mean to tell him that the reason why you came home looking like that

Why you came home and immediately went inside his room

Is because you were affected by this strange potion?

That makes you feel like you're in heat?

It doesn't matter, he needs to check up on you and see if it's harmful or not

Or to see if he can do anything to help you, at least.

"A-AUGH!" Moans and screams that sounds too whiny to be his escaped his mouth as your fingers moved wilder. "Wait a second!" He screamed the second time before you added another finger.

He was drooling like a dog on top of his desk as his cock spurt out strings of cum, staining the dark wood of his desk. "You better keep your back like this or I'll have to force it then." You ordered after you grabbed his shoulder and made him arch his back.

"G-Give me a break atleast..!" Is the last thing he screamed after he felt something hard against his used ass.

MAMMON

He was panicking

He knew that this ingredient had an aphrodisiac like effect on humans

But he didn't know it would be this much.

Plus he meant no harm!

He simply fed you this bread during your night out to make things a little exciting!

"Stop fucking moving." You cursed out as you slammed in his ass harder making him moan even more "I-I'm trying..!" He sobbed out as you bent him over the hood of his car, one of his legs raised on it while his dick continued to leak pre.

"P-Please don't be mad! O-One more! I promise I'll do better!" He begged like a whore as he pushed himself closer to you, trying to push your length deeper.

And the last thing he remembered is how he passed out and woke up again with his legs up your shoulder as you relentlessly pound into him.

LEVIATHAN

He kind of knew that it has strong aphrodisiac in it

It was said in the warning after all

But he's a high ranking demon so of course it has no effect on him

And he forgot that you're still human despite having that enormous amount of magic

"Shhh... Breath in." You chuckled at him as he shakily inhaled, sweat coating his forehead as you pushed your fingers inside of him once again "A-Agh~ I think I really can't do it anymore..!" Panic settled in when he felt himself on the edge with just your fingers.

His breathing got more ragged and panicked as you moved your fingers "Don't say that! I know you can take it..." You tried to cover your annoyed mood by sweetening your words.

"N-No... I-I think I'll die..!" His cock leaked pre but your patience is just starting to run thin "Levi how about we shut up?" You pushed your fingers down his throat "You made me like this so take responsibility." You threatened.

SATAN

He saw this unique spell in one of his books.

It applies aphrodisiac on foods without needing an actual potion

And so he though, why not try it on you?

You have gained a pretty amount of mana since time time you first came here

You can handle this much right?

Satan held on the bookshelf for his dear life as he bit on the tie harder to surpress his moans "You might break the shelf at this rate..." You panted out as you pushed yourself deeper inside of him.

A groan escaped his throat as tears does from his eyes "No mwore!" He managed to say through the gag as he caressed his ass, red from all the spanking he received earlier.

You just held his hands and slammed all the way in, his knees completely giving up and your hands holding his up is the only thing preventing him from falling "There, there... I'll start moving now..." You sweetly said, ignoring his please.

ASMODEUS

He didn't mean to!

You just looked so hot earlier that he forgot he had this ability!

Accidentally putting aphrodisiac on your food... How horrible!

Don't worry, he'll take responsibility!

Rhythmic moan is the only thing that can be hear inside the dimly lit room of Asmodeus, oh, the slapping sound of his ass whenever it hits your waist too.

"Augh!~ I-I'm getting a little tired honey~" He moaned as he continued to bounce himself on top of you as you lazily sat on his sofa "Maybe a little help..?" He guided your hands to his waist, implying that he wants you to move him yourself.

When you didn't react, he looked back at you over his shoulders and saw how you look completely out of it, dilated pupils and red cheeks "You know... If I started moving you yourself I might break your fragile little waist." You whined out as he felt you grip him harder.

BEELZEBUB

He's really sorry!

He forgot about this aphrodisiac and how it's harmful for humans...

What do you mean he can help cure the pain?

Sure, he'll help!

You played with Beelzebub's vibrant hair as his mouth worked wonders for you "Just like that~" You moaned as you looked down at him.

"Am I helping you relive the pain..?" He pulled away for a minute, a string of saliva and cum connecting his lips from your thighs "Yes, Beel. You're doing so good~" You leaned down to give him a little kiss

"I'm pretty sure this is hurting too~" You moved your feet closer to his clothed cock, visibly hard and straining against his pants "Then... Can MC help me relive it later too..?" He asked which made you smirk.

BELPHEGOR

It started off as a harmless prank

It was supposed to be a harmless prank

He didn't know it would reach this far

And he never thought that you'll let it reach this far!

"F-Fucking hell! MC!" He managed to say between the small intervals where you raised his head and let him breath, it's sad that this is what he decided to say.

You slammed his head back down on the pillow and moved your hip back and forth, enough to push him forward and have him holding the bed frame.

And then he tapped your thigh signaling that he's about to cum, and being a nice human, you let him, but this time, you didn't raise his head to let him breath and now you can see the panic.

How he was struggling to push himself up as cum leak out of his cock continuously, you harshly pulled his hair to let him breath "A-Ah~ I-I can't breath please!" He was holding your hands as he begged, tears and sweat messing up his face.

It was a sight to behold before you push him back down.

[apoemaday]

Circe's Power

by Louise Glück

I never turned anyone into a pig. Some people are pigs; I make them Look like pigs.

I'm sick of your world That lets the outside disguise the inside. Your men weren't bad men; Undisciplined life Did that to them. As pigs,

Under the care of Me and my ladies, they Sweetened right up.

Then I reversed the spell, showing you my goodness As well as my power. I saw

We could be happy here, As men and women are When their needs are simple. In the same breath,

I foresaw your departure, Your men with my help braving The crying and pounding sea. You think

A few tears upset me? My friend, Every sorceress is A pragmatist at heart; nobody sees essence who can't Face limitation. If I wanted only to hold you

I could hold you prisoner.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She didn’t have to wait long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She did none of that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Stark Wolves howled under the Northern Moon once again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Together they united in A Song of Ice and Fire.

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

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

[lilianasgrimoire]

Herbs & Correspondences A-F

This is going to be a looonnnnnggg post, I have gotten all the herbs I can find/remember the correspondences of herbs in alphabetical order, so I might actually break it down into sections and link them on each post at the top.

Acorn - Good luck, personal power, protection and wisdom. Dried acorns are a natural amulet for youthfulness. Associated with Litha. Element water. 

Agrimony - Shielding and hex-breaking, aids sleep, brings luck towards you and is powerful in spell reversal.  Element Air. 

Alder - Helps you to face up to things you are avoiding, divination, teaching especially anything arty and weather magic. Element Fire. 

Alfalfa - Money, prosperity and a happy home, also anti-hunger. Generosity and luck.  Element Earth. 

Allspice - Draws money and business success.  Aids compassion, luck and healing. Element Fire.   

Angelica - Also called Archangel. It is a very powerful protection herb, healing, creates harmony and courage and helps in exorcisms.  Aids vision. Element Air. 

Apple - Garden magic, love, healing and wisdom, also vanity, marriage and beauty. Associated Mabon & Samhain. Element water. 

Ash - Spells relating to the sea, protection, and luck. Make your Yule log from ash and burn to bring prosperity. Yggdrasil was an Ash tree.  Element water. 

Basil - Also called witch's herb. Use in spells for Love, exorcism, wealth, sympathy, and protection. Associated with Imbolc. Aids astral projection. Element Fire. 

Bay Leaf - Protection, success, purification, strength, wisdom and healing, also increases psychic powers. Element Fire. 

Beech - Happiness, inspiration and divination. Represents the Green Man.  Element Air. 

Belladonna - Also Called: Deadly Nightshade. Toxic. Use for forgetting past loves. Protection, beauty and original flying ointments. Adds energy to rituals.   Element Water. 

Benzoin - Purification, prosperity, and helps to soothe tension by dispelling anger and lessening irritability, de stressing, helps depression, concentration and astral projection. Element Air.  

Bergamot - Money, prosperity and sleep.  Protects from both evil and illness. Good luck and wealth. Increases magical power.  Element Fire.  

Birch - Protection, exorcism and purification. Dispels lightning, infertility, and the evil eye. Associated with Yule. Element Water.  

Black Pepper - Banishing negativity, exorcism, and offers protection and help with inner strength.  Element Fire  

Blackthorn - Exorcisms, warding off negative spirits and general protection.  Associated with Samhain. Element Earth.  

Bladderwrack - Protection, sea and wind spells, attracts money, psychic powers, and customers to your business. Element Water. 

Blessed Thistle - or Holy Thistle. Purification, protection against negativity and evil, hex breaking and aids vitality.  Carry on you for strength and protection. Element Earth. 

Blueberry - Protection of children, keeps evil out, and strengthens the aura.  Associated with the Great Spirit. Element Water. 

Borage Flower - Self Courage, peace, calm, self-love and strength. Element Air. 

Burdock - Also called Beggar’s buttons. Used for cleansing magic and warding off negativity. Protection, healing and persistence spells.  Element Water.  

Calendula - Also called Marigold. It attracts success and justice in legal matters. Increases psychic/spiritual powers and aid prophetic dreams. Dispels negativity.  Element Fire.   

Cardamom - Lust, love, and fidelity. Sweetens the personality   Use in handfasting's. Element Water.  

Carnation - Protection, strength, healing, enhancing magical powers, and achieving balance.   Element Fire.  

Catnip - Also called Nepeta. Use when working with animals.  Draws love, luck and happiness, also used in beauty magic.  Associated with Bast. Element Water. 

Cedarwood - Luck, strength and power.  It helps increase money and protection. Also healing.    Associated with Mabon. Element Earth. 

Cedar Berries - Also Called: Juniper Berries.  Protective, cleansing and repels negativity very well. Used in healing rites.  Element Fire.  

Celandine - Cures depression, treats piles, improves circulation. Brings about Joy and happiness. Solar Magic.  Element Fire. 

Chamomile - Love, sleep, protection and purification, also reduce stress.  Use for meditation work and to attract money. Solar Magic. Element Water. 

Chervil - Helps healing, flatulence and superstition.  It is considered the herb for bringing in new life.  Element Water.  

Chickweed - Also called Witches Grass. Use in moon spells. Also good for animal magic, relationships, love and fertility. Element Water.  

Chili - Fidelity, love and passion.  Also hex breaking. Element Fire.  

Cinnamon - Also called Sweet Wood. Use for Solar magic.  Meditation and astral projection. Increases spirituality, success, healing, protection, power, luck, strength, and prosperity. Element Fire.  

Clover, Red - Also called Trefoil. used in any spells relating to marriage, love, lust and fidelity. Success is linked to money.  Element Air.  

Clove - Use to protect, banish negative forces, and divination.  It also helps with any teeth spells. Aids money and draws love.  Element Fire.  

Coltsfoot - Aids wealth.  Works with peace, tranquility, prosperity, and love. Associated with Brighid. Element Water. 

Comfrey - Also called Slippery Root.  Supports magic healing and safe travel. Use for money, endurance and stability spells. Element Water. 

Coriander - Love, lust and health.  Used as an aphrodisiac and to heal migraines. Brings peace & protection to the home. Element Fire.   

Cornflower - Used primarily as an Ink for your Book of Shadows. It is the patron herb of herbalists. Use in rituals to give honor to the mother of all nature, also connected to Rainbow and Crystal children.  Element Earth. 

Cumin - Fidelity, protection, and exorcism.  Also used in love spells and food which can also promote fidelity.  Element Earth   

Cypress - Associated with death and mourning; stimulates healing and helps overcome the pain of loss.  Other properties include self-esteem, protection, love and banishing nightmares. Element Earth. 

Damiana - Lust, sex magic and attracting love. It is thought to be an aphrodisiac. Use for astral projection and spirit quests.  Element Fire. 

Dandelion Leaf - Used to summon spirits, make wishes on, healing, purification and defeating negativity.  Element Air.  

Dandelion Root - Magical uses include divination, wishes and calling spirits. It also enhances dreams and works well in astral projection. Element Air. 

Dock Root- (Yellow). Used to release baggage no longer needed. Also, fertility, healing and money magic. Clears blockages and cuts bindings.  Solar Magic. Element Air. 

Echinacea - Adds a boost to clairvoyant and psychic abilities. Adds powerful strength to spells used in money drawing magic, fertility and abundance and provides the user with protective power. Element Earth. 

Elder Tree - Sleep, releasing enchantments, protection against negativity, banishing. 

Elderflower & Berry - Peace, protection, and healing, plus aids in exorcisms.  Element Water.  

Elm - Energizes the mind and balances the heart. Aids love spells and offer protection from lightning. Element Water. 

Evening Primrose - Ideal for moon magic. Also use in love charms and to attract fae.  Element Water.  

Eyebright - Increases mental power, psychic ability and inner vision.  Element Air.  

Fennel Seed - Helps with meditation.  Healing, purifying and protection.  Also linked with new motherhood and offers inner strength. Element Air.  

Feverfew - Aids poor health.  Protection against accidents when travelling and protection when working with spirit.  Carry on you for inner strength. Element Water. 

Flax Seed - Also called Linseed. Used for money spells and healing rituals. It helps with beautiful spells and offers protection.  Element Fire. 

Fleawort - Healing, Cleansing, strength and power. The Goddess' herbs. Element Earth. 

Frankincense Resin - Use in solar magic. Associated with Beltane, Lammas, and Yule. Use in rituals and magic associated with self-control, spirituality and protection.  Also regulates emotions and helps depression. Element Earth  

Fumitory - Associated with the underworld and used at Samhain. Linked to spells for monetary gain, consecration and protection. Element Earth.  

[the-californicationist]

Hello🐻❤

Military!Biker!Price ?

I mean... Repaired a motorcycle, ride a biker

I love you Cali ❤🫂

I love you too @leixy and I’m so sorry for the wait!! Hope you enjoy the story 🩷🩷

MDNI

Storm Chaser

The rumble that you heard just outside of your garage may have been mistaken for thunder. The skies were gray, and as they rolled across the firmament, you knew they’d linger, soaking the ground and making the soil black with its fallen waters. But, this wasn’t a thundercall. This was a Triumph. 

A giant, hulking man, laden with muscle and black leather gear, rolled into your mechanic shop’s driveway on a blacked out, stealthy Triumph Storm GT. Its rider’s face was covered in a full helmet, and as he slowed to a stop, his heavy boot dug into the shale, catching the center of the bike and sitting up straight, killing the enormous engine.

He looked at you. You knew he was looking at you because there was no one else to look at. You saw yourself in the black mirror of his visor, and all around you were the empty fields surrounding your shop, the tall grass roiling in the wind. 

The gloves came off first, and you indulged in his hands. They seemed monstrous; a thin dusting of dark hair covered his skin, and each finger looked like it might have been wider than two of your own. His nails were clean, which surprised you for some reason, and there was a nasty scar along his right palm. 

He fiddled with his helmet, unlatching the buckle, and then yanked it over his head. 

Shit. You cursed inside of your mind. He’s hot as hell.

You’d been drooling over the bike, but the man sweetened the deal. He was ruggedly handsome, and his movements were so easy. It was like being in the presence of a magician, as if he knew all the secrets and delighted in hiding them from you. He was so certain, so sure of his tricks, and you waited on him to break the spell he’d put on you. 

“Alright, love? How’s it goin’?”

He held out his hand for you to shake, and it warmed you like a fire. His grip was firm but careful, and he let you go without a shake. You smiled,

“All good. Slow day,” you pointed upwards, “No one but you out in this weather.”

He chuckled, and you fell for him even harder. His mirth was contagious. He looked up at the darkening sky and told you,

“Aye, it was pourin’ cats and dogs a few minutes ago. Chasin’ me here, I’ll wager. Thought I’d wait it out here. Maybe get the service I’m due for.”

“This bike’s brand new,” you scoffed, “How did you put ten thousand miles on it already?”

He gave you a half-grin and admitted with a shrug,

“I like to get away.” 

You nodded, and he dismounted, unzipping his jacket for comfort. You gave the bike a once-over, checking for any signs of trouble. As new as it was, you’d already been trained on it, so you felt confident you could help him. You mentioned your plan,

“Oil, brake pads, filters. Check your sensors. My Triumph cert is up to date, so we’ll just clean her up by the book. How does that sound, mister…?”

“Price. John Price. Sounds class, love.”

“Waiting room just in there, John,” you pointed over to the tiny little sitting room you’d added to the garage, “Got a library and some coffee. Should be fresh. Just made a new pot a few minutes ago.”

“Cheers,” he smiled, and it was the most handsome one you’d seen in a while. His full lips stretched into his cheeks, and his tanned skin crinkled up to his eyes. 

The eyes themselves were a problem. They were a hue of blue you’d never seen, and they pinned you down like a wild animal, a hunter and his prey. But, all of that ferality was tied taut, held by a rope in his clenched fist, and his gnashing hungry teeth were kept from biting you, controlled by his tight-laced civility. All of that chivalry made you wonder what he was like when he was allowed a little freedom. 

As he walked away from you, you ogled him. You weren’t even ashamed to do it. He was everything you wanted in a man. Him and his bike oozed a primal sort of power that you’d been craving, and you wanted a taste of that freedom. 

His bike was his escape, that was for sure. Ten thousand mile service after only a few months of ownership was impressive. This man liked to ride long and often. There was plenty of evidence of wear and tear, but as rough as he had been with his ride, there was evidence of his love as well. The clean body, the mended tailpipe, evidence of a scuff polished away; it was all proof of his affection.

The service was easy and quick. As you were checking his sensors and finishing up the job, the first pitter patter of rain began to fall into the gravel drive. In the beginning, it was soft and sweet, just a few drops here and there. Then, over the short span of mere moments, it came down in a torrential pour, slamming itself into the ground and pummeling the pavement. 

You watched it slip and slide off of your metal roof in sheets, and you got close enough to the edge so that you could feel the cool spray from the downpour, a few droplets spitting onto your nose and cheeks. A bright blue bolt of lightning streaked across the cloudy pall, followed by a deafening roar of thunder that resonated in the hollow of your chest. 

Cleaning the oil from your hands as best you could, you went to deliver the bill to your customer. To your sick delight, he’d be trapped with you at least until the storm passed, and you crossed your fingers that he could do with a bit of company. 

He was sitting on the wide couch in the waiting room, his hands prying open a book. When you looked at the spine, you noticed that he was deep into the first few chapters of Moby Dick.

“Having fun yet, John?”

“Enjoying the rain on this tin roof of yours. Makes me want to kip down here on your sofa. Love to fall asleep listenin’ to the storm.”

“Me, too,” you admit, nodding towards the book, “Has he caught the whale yet?”

John shook his head,

“No, we barely got out of the harbor. You work fast. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me though, love. I don’t fancy a ride out in this mess.”

“No problem. Take all the time you need.”

“D’ya mind?” He dug around in his jacket and pulled out a short, fat cigar. 

You waved him on, motioning that it was alright with you, and he happily lit his stick, working an ambery, glowing tip until fiery smoke spilled from the end. You were about to turn and hide somewhere else, anywhere that you wouldn’t need to smell his burnt, woodsy scent. It was making you hungry for a puff of his cigar and a long lick of the inside of his mouth. 

A little self-control please… You begged yourself. 

He caught you as you started to leave, and the feeling of his hand on his surprised you with its warm sincerity. You looked down at him, but you didn’t pull away. 

“Stay… for a bit. I was just gettin’ to the good part,” he said with a sly smile, holding up the book as if to offer it to you. 

“Alright,” you replied, your voice sounding too small and too quiet in the small space. 

You sat next to him, worrying over your oil-stained nails as he read aloud to you, pausing every now and then to smoke his cigar or to turn his pages. Slowly, you started to relax, and as you leaned back into the couch, the sound of his voice and the drumming of the rain blended together into a soporific haze. You caught yourself looking at him — staring at him — with hooded eyes, studying the way his lips and tongue and teeth formed his words. The dark bristles of his beard giving you a clear view of every micro-movement of his face. 

He was looking at you, now, too. Staring at you. Every now and then, he’d glance back at the book, read a few lines, and then take a long pause to smoke and to meet your gaze. 

Suddenly, he seemed to make a conscious choice. He sat forward, and his huge shoulders cast a shadow over you. He held out his cigar and asked, 

“Fancy a smoke?”

You didn’t reply, but you took it from him ever so slowly, as if he might bite, and put the end in your mouth. You sucked in the smoke to taste the rich tobacco, and you let it roll around in your mouth before releasing it, letting it hit him in the chest and neck, billowing around his stoney jawline. 

Then, he said something to you in a new voice. It was one you knew, but you hadn’t heard it in a very long time. It was desire,

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you, love?”

You let his compliment wash over you like the downpour outside. It soaked through, right to your bones. You took another drag from the cigar, earning yourself a deeper chuckle and a pleased, approving grin.

“You should see me when I’m out of these coveralls,” you quipped, certain that your smudged cheeks were now a rosy shade of crimson. 

He took the cigar back from you and put the book down, leaning closer to you, positioning his knee between yours, forcing you to spread your legs. He smoked, filling the space between you, taking another drag for himself, breathing in and breathing out, trying to test the waters,

“Care to show me now?”

You met his smoldering gaze. The tip of his cigar had nothing on the glow from behind his eyes. He was poised and ready to pounce, a lion on a lamb. 

You didn’t answer him. You simply watched as he unzipped your work coveralls and let the sleeves slink down your arms. You pulled them free, revealing what was underneath. You were braless, letting your heavy tits lay unbound in the soft fabric of your ribbed tank, preferring comfort over fashion. 

His hand came up to cup your cheek, rubbing some of the smudged oil with his thumb. He leaned forward even further, breathing heavily with you, panting like he had run for miles, all for the sole purpose of brushing your sensitive bottom lip with his own, teasing you with your own taste, hungry for your body and ready to consume you in every way he knew how. 

He began to kiss you slowly, languidly, as if you were both trapped in some world of slow motion where time need not exist. You need not be bothered with the past or the future. The present was enough, and it stretched between you forever. Each kiss deeper than the last, each touch more sensual, making your breath catch in your chest. 

John pulled away from you, slowly untangling himself, looking at you as if he had been keeping some smoldering question inside of his chest. He moved so slowly, telegraphing his motions so you would know his intent. Rapt, you watched his hand drop to the hem of your tank, his thick fingers dancing along the seam, carefully pulling it away so that his warm hand could slide underneath. 

Your whole body shuddered as his palm spread across your soft belly. His callused hands were rough against your skin, and the way he grabbed at you, greedy yet slow and savoring, made you feel like he had hypnotized you. You were frozen in place, submitting to his desire. 

He looked up into your eyes, checking with you to see if you would allow him to venture further and then moving further anyway, unable to quell his lurid hunger. His fingers found the swell of your breast, the heavy flesh hanging like ripe, sweet fruit, ready to be tasted. A thumb slipped across your nipple, encouraging it to tighten into a little peak, just plump enough to fit into his wet mouth. 

Without lifting your shirt off of you, he bent his head and suckled on your taut nipple through its fabric. He wet the cloth and your skin, and when he pulled his mouth away, the dampness lingered, teasing you with the memory and lingering on you, chilling your flesh. Another swipe of his thumb and you heard yourself let out quiet little mewls, whining and needy. His immediate, chuffed grin made you blush with shame. 

So, you took your revenge. You reached your hand across the supple leather of his riding pants and found the tip of his fat cock hanging trapped and turgid halfway down his muscular thigh. You used your finger to draw tiny circles around his head, knowing he could feel it. To your satisfaction, his eyes fluttered closed, lost in the sensation. 

Then, his hands plundered under your top, scrunching the fabric up to your collar, revealing your skin to him. As you messaged his heavy cock, you watched him sigh as he admired your curves, drinking you in like a desert palm, his hard root stretching towards its oasis. 

“Take me out, love. Please,” he begged you softly, kissing you between his gentle whispering words, and you knew what he wanted. 

You yanked at his button to pop it off, and you pinched at the zipper, listening to the metallic whir of its teeth as you freed him. 

He wasn’t wearing anything under his leathers, which drove you wild. He must have been so sensitive during his ride, feeling every bit of the garment’s texture and folds as he straddled his machine. 

You reached for him and he let out a dark groan. His voice became threatening all at once, and he grabbed at you with all of his might, drawing your attention with his words,

“Both hands… ungh, ahh, please. Please touch me with both of your hands, love.”

There was plenty of his length for you to comply, and even with both of your hands, his swollen, rigid girth was still a challenge to manage. You focused on his head, watching as his whole body responded to your touch.

John pulled you in for another kiss, forcing his tongue down your throat, filling your mouth with his heat, crushing you to his chest, abandoning all of his earlier tenderness in favor of lustful fury. 

As he ravaged your mouth, you felt his cock slipping through your hands on its own and you realized that he was using his hips to thrust himself through your grip. You tried to help him, matching his pace, but that only spurred on his carnal want. 

He was moaning into your mouth, and you could feel the hum of his joy against your lips. With each shameless thrust, he cried for you in that dark brimstone timbre, aching and full of longing. 

“John…” you whispered, breaking away to catch your breath, saying his name like a prayer. 

Adding to the drama, a long peal of thunder shattered the sky, killing the lights in your shop. But, you were both so worked up by one another, the shock of a blown fuse paled in comparison, and your eyes stayed locked on each other’s, bound together, unable to look away. Unwilling. 

But, he paused, staring at you, wanting something from you, something more. 

You gasped when he lifted you, rumpled clothes and all, right off the couch. He shouldered the door to the tiny room and walked quickly to his bike sitting you sideways on the seat. You braced yourself with one hand on the tank and one on the tail, waiting for his next whim. 

He was working on your clothes, peeling off your coveralls and shucking off your layers until he found your panties. When he saw the fabric, he paused. You fretted for a moment until you felt the cool, stormy wind blow across the damp gusset. Then, you knew what he was looking at. You were soaking through your panties, and there he was, transfixed on the darkening stain. 

“Wanna taste you, love. Want you in my mouth…” 

John fell to his knees in a flash, his cock still free and flagging up and down, wet with his precome. You squirmed a bit, unsure of your scent and your sweat from your earlier work. 

Those gentle eyes had been replaced with a sinister warning. He pinned you with them as if to say, move away and I’ll bloody drag you back. 

He didn’t bother to kiss the softness of your belly nor your thighs. He wanted one thing, but you didn’t expect him to take you quite like this. He didn’t peel down your panties, instead eating you right through the thin cotton, sucking on the wet cloth and making lewd squelching noises, lapping his tongue over your soaking lips and sucking at your flavor with his eager lips.

“Oh, shit…” You lamented, feeling your body go slack, submitting to him and his power. 

“Fuck…” He said between bites of his meal, “You’re so sweet… Let me… ungh, fuckin’ hell…”

He used his thumb to tug the fabric aside, revealing your gleaming pink flesh. And when he tasted you, skin on skin, John became obsessed. He was pushing his strong jaw so hard into you, working you with his mouth, making you rake your fingers through his hair just to hold onto something, you were afraid the bike might tip. 

In one ruthless motion, he tore your panties from you, ripping the sides and tucking the ruined fabric into his fist. Then, he put that same hand on his cock and began to jerk himself off, rubbing your wet cloth all over his cockhead. 

With his free hand, he grabbed the handlebar of the bike, pulling it down towards him, preventing it from falling, now able to eat you with as much reckless abandon as he liked. 

His mouth moved in long, deep thrusts, fucking you with his scruffy face, suckling at the hardening body of your clit. His tongue pressed into your swollen lips, moving between them with forceful need. As he licked you, he moved lower and lower towards your wet hole, hoping to thrust his writhing muscle inside of you, wanting nothing more than to lick you dry. 

Finally, he reached it, and the tip of his tongue slipped into your pussy, pressing through your slit and fucking you like his cock wanted to. You heard him elicit a gravelly, smoldering whine when he tasted your smooth center, and you watched as his eyes rolled back in his head, his brow furrowing in disbelief. 

Meanwhile, the rain pounded in the open garage doorway, swirling and spitting under its ebon shroud. John cared very little about it, nor did he care that you and he were nearly naked, in full view of the street. The idea that anyone could drive up and see you there, caught in his jaws, made you lose control. 

You tried to hold your voice down, but once he felt you start to come, he did everything he could to set you ablaze. His hand abandoned the handlebar, preferring instead to sink two of his large fingers inside of you, working with his tongue to stretch you open, giving him more of your ripeness to devour. 

You keened like you were on fire, and maybe you were. You thought, as the flames licked up your legs and down your arms, that maybe you would burn right up. Maybe you were a flare, ready to sear a bright scorching light through his mouth, burning his throat like whiskey, brutal and cruel. 

Your whole body had given in to the feeling as if you were an orchestra at the mercy of its conductor. If he wanted your kindling to catch, it would, and you would burn for him. You were his opus, trapped in a perpetual crescendo of his lust, an expression of his own fiery fate. 

His mouth only left your body to cry out in his own right, growling out a breathless groan as he spilled his come into your panties, smearing his cock through his own emission and mixing it with yours. 

Unable to maintain your balance, and unwilling to jeopardize his bike, you sank to the floor with him, feeling the cold concrete on your shins. John tugged you into his lap, panting into your neck, smelling strongly of your scent, his face and beard shining with it. 

You breathed together, fondling what you could reach, cradling each other as if you’d found one another again after years apart. Penelope clutching at her Odysseus, recognizing him through a sea of lesser men. 

“You alright, love?” John asked, still catching his breath, petting your cheek absentmindedly. 

You nodded, affirming your well-being,

“Mmhm. You?”

“Aye,” he smiled, laughing quietly to himself, “But, now you’ve gone and done it.”

“What?” You smiled, enjoying his joy. 

“Didn’t think runnin’ from the rain would be such a fuckin’ good time. Now, when it rains, I’ll be craving you.”

You smiled at him, letting him kiss your neck and cheek, planting his affection like little promises, deep under your skin. 

“You’re always welcome back, rain or shine.”

“How about tonight at six; dinner at my flat?” He looked up at you, hopeful. 

“As long as I get to ride this bike, it’s a date,” you teased. 

He raised his eyebrows at your challenge, and then he gave you a lascivious grin,

“Don’t worry, love. I’ve got just the ride in mind.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

AO3 Link

[perfectlyoongi]

WHEN THEY LOVE YOU THE MOST

ㅤ⚘.fandom ... bts. ㅤㅤಇ.ft. ... yoongi, hoseok, namjoon x gn!reader. ㅤ⚘.genre ... headcanons. ㅤㅤಇ.content ... fluff. ㅤㅤಇ.word count ... ~315 each / 945 total.

↬┊YOONGI

between the dusty pages and the lit candles, sweetened with the certainty of a future and adorned with the pride of a past, Yoongi loved you the most when a new sparkle appeared in your eyes, eager to explore the vast world in which we live.

curiosity lit up your face every time happiness squeezed your heart, leaving you to question what else you could do, what else you could love, all the questions arising within you in a thirsty avalanche of knowledge. and Yoongi clung to all your longing smiles and all your melancholy looks.

admiring you from afar, always fearing to share your happiness, nervously believing that he could destroy your passion, Yoongi allowed your entire existence to paint his heart in strong shades of the hottest reds and the most passionate oranges. your passion painted pictures in Yoongi's soul, sculpting his entire existence into a perfect representation of complicity.

all because you discovered something new. all because you discovered a new passion, a new goal. and, oh!, how beautiful it was to see you growing up, becoming the wonderful person who inspires each and every one of Yoongi's creations.

between smiles and looks, words and memories, all your essence rained down in a cosmic waterfall that dusted Yoongi's various notebooks with stardust, making him write with the magic of your soul, create with the spell of your being — all for you.

for your courage to start something new when no one expected anything from you. for your resilience in continuing when everyone was knocking you down. for you, for being the genuine person who enchants Yoongi every day.

and, for that, Yoongi admired you, yes, but, above all, he loved you. Yoongi loved you yesterday and he loves you today. Yoongi would love you in a tomorrow that awaited you and in a future designed by both of you. Yoongi simply loved you, now and for all eternity.

↬┊HOSEOK

in the waves of moonlight, feeling your body next to his, after an exhausting day of pretending and talking, never knowing how to react to the world, Hoseok loved you the most when everything that existed ceased to be and nothing but luminous darkness covered the vast horizon.

alone with you, feeling comfortable between the small walls, wrapped in soft sheets, Hoseok loved you the most when he stopped pretending. stripped of any weight of the world on his shoulders, completely devoid of the imaginary people that made up his being, Hoseok loved you the most when he was himself and only him. simply Hoseok.

with delicacy trapped in his touch and neediness clinging to his gaze, Hoseok's love came with the grace of the end of the day, all the existing tiredness clinging to his slurred, but always heartfelt and always vibrant, words.

an ‘i love you’. an ‘i missed you’. a ‘just five more minutes’.

small pleas escaped Hoseok's tender lips, as if they were prayers uttered by the most faithful devotees. all the anguish and uncertainty that ruled Hoseok's body dissipated when he arrived home, feeling comfortable between the small walls, wrapped in soft sheets, clinging to you.

when the entire world suspended and the entire universe stopped moving, Hoseok loved you with the infinity of still seconds, all the cosmic particles of the world appearing delicately in Hoseok's words; words plated in gold, gold from the oldest gods and the brightest stars, words that carved and drew all the promises and memories that Hoseok wanted to build with you. only you, only him.

the world didn't need to speak for Hoseok to love you. the world didn't need to move for Hoseok to love you. for, on the shining nights, wrapped in a sheet next to you, the entire world ceased to exist, and Hoseok could only love you.

↬┊NAMJOON

in the insecurities of the future and the uncertainties of the present, bathed in the brightness of the sun and declaimed in the beauty of flowers, Namjoon loved you the most when everyone got tired of you and threw you to the ground, again and again, without any warning.

whole afternoons seemed eternal when you felt Namjoon's embrace. small poems were quoted between murmurs and the various songs by the most famous composers found a melody between Namjoon's delicate lips.

whenever and every time the whole world had fallen to you; whenever and every time the entire world decided to test your strength; in all these moments, Namjoon was there, for you, to remind you why he didn't leave, to engrave in your memory, with strong colors of love and affection, that he would always be a word away. tranquility and peace — among all the chaos, Namjoon existed. and he didn't exist just for you; Namjoon existed for your relationship.

patience and understanding fled from Namjoon's fingertips, outlining drawings of strength and encouragement, writing loving memories every time he touched you.

always calm and smiling, Namjoon loved you. he simply loved you.

there was no other way to say it, as there was no other way to feel it: pure passion burned Namjoon's heart, using the lava that flowed within him to build fortifications of love and tenderness in his hands, so that whenever he caressed you, poems of tomorrow and sonnets of your conquests would be eternally engraved on you.

extreme devotion squeezed Namjoon's heart, letting the line that hung from it escape through his lips in all the light, graceful, tender kisses that Namjoon gave you to enhance all the memories of who you are and who you were. when everyone gave up on you, Namjoon was by your side loving you. always and forever with you.

ㅤㅤ♡ feedback is appreciated ♡

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Playing Dangerously

Paring: fem!reader × Natasha x Bucky

Warnings: SMUT, threesome, Dom!Nat, SwitchBucky, sub!reader, mommy kink, daddy kink, dumbification, oral, teasing, slight alcohol consumption, fingering, pet names,

A/N: I’m not really a shipper of this but friends with benefits Winterwidow is so hot. @syndote this one is for you.

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

Masterlist

Don't get me wrong being with THE black widow was something many could only ever dream about but I had to admit that sometimes I felt like I never really got the chance to try different things. From the Red Room to S.H.I.E.L.D and directly into the red heads arms left little to no space for explorations of my sexuality. Sex with Nat was great and always left me satisfied but I couldn't help to wonder about the forbidden fruit, but mentioning this to Nat could lead to a hefty argument which I didn't want to risk; after all she was all a girl like me could want right?

"Bucky will join us for the mission" I turned away from the laptop screen I was watching an episode of modern family on (after spending so much time in russia I was dying to know what the American dream was like), I hadn't heard Natasha approach, spy I had to remind myself. "I thought this was gonna be a me and you thing" She chuckled leaning over the chair, swiping my hair over my shoulder, and letting her precisely painted lips meet the soft skin of my neck. "You know I only ever have eyes for you my little bunny"

I hummed as her sweetened words hit my ears, and made tingles run down my spine "I know Tasha" I sighed standing up but making the fatal mistake of leaving my laptop open. "I'll just be on the toilet alright?" Natasha hummed deciding to press play again as suddenly there popped up a message from I was way. 

Katja: You should really try to communicate this with your girlfriend before this ruins your relationship. 

Natasha couldn't believe her eyes but curiosity got the better of her and she opens the message; I had told her all about how I waned  to experience sexual things with a man but how unwilling I was to cheat on her. She quickly closed the tab again pretending like she didn't have her master plan planned out already. 

The mission was easy inflate a party, steal some hard drive and go back to the hotel. Even though you were there with your girlfriend the thoughts of trying it out with a man couldn't leave your head. Not that I was interested in having an affair of leaving Nat you just wanted her to have this with you. And the fact that out of all people Bucky had been assigned to you two didn’t make it better. I had long expected the two to had have something going on in the past but never had the courage to ask either. The mission went by quick and you soon found yourself sitting at a hotel bar celebrating our success mission.

***

"I'll have a martin" "A beer for me" The bartender looked at me with expecting eyes "A beer for me too." Sitting between the two I almost felt sandwiched even though there was still space between our bodies. Natasha slipped quietly on her martin while my bottle was still untouched by me I couldn't tear my mind away from the two assassins next to me. "You're awfully quiet Y/N" I heard the deep voice of the Winter Soldier. I opened my mouth before closing it again there were so many words in my heart but so little on my tongue. “You’re normally so filled with life”

I felt Natasha's watchful eyes on my smaller form and suddenly I felt awfully naked in my cocktail dress. "James" her voice was sweet like honey. "Do you remember the last time we were sitting here?" I could practically hear the smirk in her voice "How could I forget that night" He took another slip of his beer bottle. "Are you down for a second time with our little guest" I couldn’t believe my ears was this a lucky guess or did Nat suddenly become a mind reader. I looked down peeling away at the label of the bottle as my cheeks continued to heat up. "I see" he took another close look at me, seizing me up. "I'm down if she is" There were a few seconds of silence with two awaiting eyes in my form; if I wanted to try this now would be the time "Of course" I stated in a quiet voice as I met his lust filled gaze, he only nodded before finishing his bottle. "I'll be in my room"

***

"Strip and lay on the bed" I could hear Natasha's cold words as she went to open to open the door letting Bucky, in his blazer and tie missing, the first few buttons of his white shirt unbuttoned revealing some of his chest hair. Just as he kicked the door closed behind him Nat had him already pressed against the wall as they violently made out with each other. Her hands twisted in his white button up shirt pulling herself impossibly closer to the man. The way Natasha was still containing control of the much stronger man was definitely a turn on. (Not that I had expected it any other way)

Even though she was busy with him from the corner of her eyes I could see she watched me on very move.   She turned away from him sitting down on the cushion of armchair. "James I want you to eat her out" she pulled out a small metal tin with cigarettes in it, lighting herself one "and don't let her cum" He only nodded having seemingly submitted to the redhead without a fight.

He climbed onto my much smaller frame, his eyes scanning my naked form. There was something about the both of them still fully clothed while I was undressed which made me even wetter. He leaned down to catch my lips and my hands went to his short black hair. His tongue fought it's way inside my mouth our tongues dancing a dangerous dance as one of his rough hands went to my breast. He kissed down my neck his beard stubbles irritating my soft skin. 

His chipped lips wrap around one of my nipples and the strong fingers twisted the other. He watched in an awe how my body squirmed under his touch. "Mommy please" I whined out buckling I hips against his hard prick "No sweetie this ain't gonna work" She chuckles blowing out some smoke from her lit cigarette. "Beg Daddy not me, I can't help you little girl" I chocked out another whine as I felt his teeth tugging at my nipple. 

The way his mouth wrapped around my tender flesh made want him even more. He liked over my nipple a few more times each time discovering a new sound escaping from my mouth. Eventually he got bold enough to bit down making me cry out in pure lust. “Daddy please” I didn’t know what I was begging for but the pure title made him moan. He switched sides giving my other nipple the same treatment as his fingers brush over the other one.

He kissed his way down your stomach stopping your hips from buckling as her presses his forearm down on your lower stomach. He kissed your public bone taking in the strong smell of my cunt as he groaned. He took his time kissing and nibbling on the soft skin of my hips. My hands go to his short black hair folding with his soft hair (which somehow was even softer than Nats)

After a while he was done with the teasing having had enough and he just wanted to finally get a taste of Nat’s little girl. He took a bold lick over my cunt moaning inside of my heat as I tried to buckle my hips again but you were stopped by his cold metal arm keeping your hips down.

"Daddy please" I whined, having so much control over a sexual partner did something to him. "No more teasing please" I begged. Natasha (who had been watching closely from the corner) made her way over the the bed puffing out a load of smoke "Be a good boy James" He was seemingly torn between the dominance of having me under him begging for his mercy out still being so obedient to the black widow. It was a match made in heaven or in hell so to say. 

He continued to eat me like the last supper his tongue pressing on the pulsing nub of nerves. Two of his thick fingers pushed passed my tight hole making my eyes roll into the back of my head in pure pleasure, he bit down on my clit sending shock waves through my body. His fingers twisted and turned to to press against my G- spot. I was so close to stumbling of the edge I got a taste of heaven. 

"James stop" I heard her cold voice as he immediately pulled way sitting on his knees and  my juices dripping from the concert of his mouth.  I whined and cried ash the lost of pleasure my tears smudging down my pink cheeks. "Good boy James" She leaned down to kiss him moaning as she tasted my juices on his lips. She pulled away from him whipping the corners of his mouth with her palm. "Would you look at that you made a mess Ana" She inspected your dripping cunt further running two finger through your cunt making you let out a pathetic whimper. She tasted me letting out an extensive moan "I'm almost jealous James got to taste you bunny" 

She whispered something in Bucky's ear and he quietly nods. "Get on all fours Y/N" he rasped in your ear. You placed yourself on all fours and he positioned himself behind you and you heard the sound of this clothes being torn off. "Are you ready" I nodded, my position was beyond embarrassing ass up in the air having gabbed a pillow to bite on.

He pulled down his shorts and let Natasha touch him how she pleased. Her smaller hands wrapped around his pulsing prick I heard him groan as her hands moved up and down his length. Her movements made him impossibly hard a few droplets of pre cum already leaking.

Bucky positioned himself behind me and he slowly pushed his length in making me scream out at the stretch. He let you adjust before moving at a decent pace I took a look behind me to see Nat guiding his hips only not giving him control of his own pleasure. I lead out a few mewls of pure pleasure. "mommy" my whimpered gripping onto the pillow for dear life "need you”

She let go of his hips leaning up to my ear "Do you need your clit played with" she rubbed circles on my back. Bucky's pace was great for his pleasure but I just needed more so I nodded as more tears made it's way down my cheeks "Can't even cum without mommy's help such a dumb little girl.”

Bucky quickend his pace and so did Nat and I was nearly seeing stars "Cum for me" she announced slapping Bucky's ass as if he was nothing more that a common whore "both". It didn't need more to make both of us cum with im pulling out to paint my back in his milk. 

I flipped to my back watching as Natasha and Bucky were caught up in a passionate kiss. His kisses trailed down her neck and chest at the same time pulling her red lace panties down her perfectly shaped legs. He nibbled on her skin paying extra attention to the small scar on her hip.

Natasha laid next to me on her back as I turned to my side stroking a few of her red hair, which were stuck to her sweaty forehead. “Kiss mommy bunny”

I kissed the desperate woman our tongue intertwined. She broke away letting out an almost pornographic moan as Bucky dove in to her wet center.

Our foreheads were seemingly stuck together as were lost in, probably the hottest, make out session I ever had. The air was humid filled with the sounds of Natasha’s wetness and the indecent sounds of our desperate sounds. “Fuck James” she groaned on my lips her hands twisted in my dark blonde locks. “Make Mommy cum” He kept his pace up flickering her clit with his tongue while penetrating her with two of his fingers. With a scream she came down from her high releasing over his chin and face.

***

"Thank you" You signed laying between the older Agents "But I think I'll stay with women for now" Natasha chuckled kissing your forehead "I wouldn't have given you free either way" she joked "And I wouldn't risk talking Nat's girl"

:)

Tags:

@terrormonster55 @marvelobsessed134 @crowswolffe

[lakrisrot]

A goodnight Sending

Spoilers for c3e95, 900 word ficlet

Edit 21/5/24: Now on ao3! Added some additional lines to both versions.

Essek is kept from his bed by a few arcanely enhanced interrogations of the inn’s staff, who all corroborate the story of Desirat’s recent attack, in varying levels of accuracy and usefulness. It will be useful for a later report.

Reaching his own room at last is a relief, even if he is not such a fool as to take a closed door as security. Still, the quiet is pleasant. It has been an eventful day.

He saves his last seventh level—of course he does—and begins moving around the small, dark chamber. Each spell sacrificed weaves another strand of tentative comfort around him. 

A twist of a ring, and See Invisibility spills like quicksilver through his vision. The lack of prying eyes sheds a weight off his shoulders, sweetened by the dropping of his Disguise. He runs an idle hand through his hair before summoning a ribbon to tie it plainly away from his face. An Alarm by the entry points—a spell he carries actual components for, in an act of sentimentality for the man who taught him—and he allows himself to feel the twinge in his neck, the stiffness running down his shoulder. 

Essek sits on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his sleeves. It is late, but … neither of them are sleeping early these days. He raises his hands and exhales into his Sending.

“Hello, Caleb. Is this a good time? I am well.”

It is a dear ritual, this distant exchange of words in the evenings. Each update feels particularly precious, with the powerlessness of blocked communication still a fresh bruise on his confidence. The world had never felt quite as vast as then.

The spell connects, today. It is easy, when unobserved, to soften with the anticipation of his partner’s voice. He leans into it like a hug.

Essek. It is good to hear from you. 

A pause, as Caleb either sets aside his work or walks away from curious ears. Fondness grows thicker in Caleb’s voice when he speaks again.

You have reached Eiselcross, then? Keep warm. Keep safe. How are the adventurers?

Essek smiles as he listens, gently working rings off his fingers and piling them onto the covers. He stretches his hands and recasts.

“Hm, no, not yet. We are resting the night in Zadash. Lodge of the Eclipse, room four and seven. Should be safe, though.”

Even with the spell run out before his words, he waits for the response before recasting.

Shopping, hmm? I see how it is. I am glad to know where you are tonight. I am camping … ah, by some lovely rowan trees.  

“Mmm, sounds scenic. Your adventurers … Well, they are interesting. You did not mention their dunamantic capabilities.” 

He pauses, watching the string of arcana waver gently with his breath. A shock of longing sinks through him. It has been too long since they have shared a full night over arcane theory, with no apocalypse threatening like sunrise. Perhaps that longing is what sends his thoughts down paths of nostalgia.

“They remind me of old times,” he finishes.

Caleb’s huff of humor sounds edged with sleepiness. 

How so, dear? Have they tried to hug you yet? 

You will need to recount everything. When we spoke, they knew little of dunamis. 

“They are not that fearless.”

Essek flops back onto the bed, sighing. 

“A joke. No, I do not believe I look like I need it as desperately as back then. I think …”

Mhm mhm? 

Another spell. They are easy to spend, like this.

“They are ambitious. But wounded, I think. Perhaps recently … Perhaps not. Wound tight with the scarring.”

He frowns up at the ceiling beams as they vibrate slightly, but it seems to pass. 

“They remind me of the old me.”

I see. 

Essek can hear the smile in his voice, and braces for a teasing line (which usually involves attempting not to immediately snicker in response. He has a reputation to uphold. Somewhat.)

Perhaps you shall be the hugger, then. Yes, roll your eyes. But you have been taught well, have you not?

Caleb Sends before he can, eager to finish his point. Essek knows just what his hands look like shaping this spell. Of course he does—the movements echo Essek’s own style.

In all seriousness, I hope they are not too much trouble. They are … important, I think. 

And you have many wisdoms to pass along, yes?

“Mmm, certainly. Like the wisdom that it is far past your bedtime.” 

Quietly, he chastises, “I would like you to save your spells, with where you are sleeping.”

Another Sending arrives. Silly man.

All right. Rest well, Essek. I miss you. 

Remember your morning stretches. And your squats. 

“Only if you wear your reading glasses tomorrow. And I miss you, too. Stay safe.”

He has space for I love you but knows it will prompt Caleb to Send again, to return the sentiment. His hesitation draws long enough for the spell to end, and regret pools immediately. 

He knows, Essek reminds himself. Just as Essek knows. And they will speak again tomorrow, with many more miles between them than tonight.

The quiet of the room gains new depth as his hands fall to his lap, only deepened by the muffled sounds of late-night drinkers. The ceiling creaks again, something thumps. 

Essek settles in to trance, mind far away from the creaking inn, drifting somewhere between rowan trees and a red moon.

[vividraft]

I'd pay for your number!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ fem!reader x yae miko, hu tao, yelan (seperate)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ summary: how would the girls get your number, even though they're at your work place?!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ important notes: this is a repost from my old account (@/rainstops)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ a/n: this is probably like... really awkward because i can't flirt...

old post masterlist tba !

yae miko

Miko was never one to fall for anyone who she sees. But as soon as she walked into her local starbucks, she noticed you behind the counter. It took her just a glimpse to notice that you were new. She was a regular at this shop, and on any other day she would've gone to any of the other workers because they know Mikos order. But luckily she happened to get out of the house extra early.

You greeted her with the probably sweetest smile she had ever seen. It made her heart flutter, and almost made her mess up her order. What is happening here? she is usually never like this! What spell have you cast upon her to make her act that way?

while ordering she was fumbling over her words and she was fidgeting with her fingers. and now she was just supposed to walk out of the store like nothing had happened? as if she wasn't absolutely crushing on you, even though she has said only like two sentences to you? (even if she was in slight denial about crushing on you).

yae miko decided to shoot her shot, but the way her mind was all blank when she locked eyes with you, did not help her to come up with something.

suddenly your sweet voice interrupted her thinking. "sorry did you want caramel on top?", really anyone else would've never forgotten mikos order, not in a thousand years, and if someone did, yae would wonder how that's even possible.

but in your case, it was okay. Seriously, even if she needed to repeat her whole order to you, she would have done it happier than ever.

"well i think you sweetened my day more than that caramel ever could hm?"

oh god why did she say that.

you just blinked at her a few times. "So is that a no...?", did you even realize she was flirting with you?!

miko sighed. "Just put caramel on it", she shook her head. she wasn't going to achieve anything like this.

Well luckily your co worker came to the rescue! "[name] did you not realize that the girl you are serving right now was so obviously flirting with you? Seriously, you need to give her your number or something. The sigh she let out was almost painful to hear. also she's one of our regulars"

luckily you were standing with your backs to miko, and whispering. and when you mouthed an "ohh" you immediately knew what to do. Even if you were kind of oblivious to flirting, it's not like you were entirely stupid.

"Here's your order, and I hear you're one of our regulars? I look forward to regularly seeing you", you leaned over the counter, sweetly smiling at her.

god, what was that feeling? her stomach and head felt all fuzzy, and her heart was about to burst out of her chest. she felt her cheeks redden. What was she supposed to say? you knocked her whole vocabulary out of her brain with just one sentence. Were you even flirting with her? or was she being entirely delusional?

well she had everyday from today on to figure that out, didn't she?

Hu tao

Working at a funeral parlor, of course some flowers were needed. She was a regular, running to the flower store next door. She’s even befriended the friendly old lady who owns the shop!

Yet when she was told to get some more flowers, she groaned. She had other work to do as well! Can‘t someone else do it? Well it wasn‘t too bad of a task, she could chat with the nice lady again, and then return to the task she was finishing before.

So when she stepped through the door with the little bell above it, she didn’t expect someone so… young?

The smell of the flowers hit her, and that’s also when she saw your face. Your soft smile at the sight of a customer walking through the door made her heart flutter.

“Hi, how can I help you?”, your smile wandering from ear to ear. Hu Tao was screaming on the inside. How was your voice so sweet? And your smile so gentle and your face so gorgeous??

…was it always this warm in the store?

“O-oh! I’m from the funeral parlor next door, I was just looking to get some flowers for… funeral decoration”, Hu Tao internally cursed herself. Since when was she stuttering over her words like this??

“I think Grandma- well you know the owner of this store, told me about you! Hu… Hu Tao?”, YOU KNEW HER NAME??? This was a foreign feeling for Hu Tao, how come someone could make her feel so… you must’ve bewitched her!

"Yeah that's correct!", phew why was she getting so dizzy?

"Okay then hu tao which flowers would you like to buy?", you leaned onto the counter, your hands holding your head.

"Just... two bouquets of spider lilies... please", dammit! Was she not capable of forming a full sentence anymore?! Why did her face feel so hot! Focus hu tao focus!

instead of focusing hu taos thoughts drifted into a whole different direction. what would you, the cute flower girl look like handing her a few red roses? or maybe hu tao could give you some roses herself? she would love to see your face turn as re as the roses... or-

"Here are the bouquets! anything else?", your voice snapped hu tao out of her thoughts and she jumped a little.

hu tao needed to get out of here, before her head was going to burst and her heart was going to fly out of her chest.

"thank you!", hu tao just said while grabbing the bouquets, slapping some money on the counter, and running right out the store.

you looked after her, smiling. 

"weird girl", you laughed and shook your head, while noticing the huge amount of money she left on your counter, which was far beyond what she owed you. you took a mental note of asking her about it the next time she came here. After all, you were going to see her pretty frequently now, no?

hu tao on the other hand, was out of breath from running. Why was she even running from you? hugging the flowers, she looked down onto them. from now on, she was going to make sure that she was the one who picked up the flowers every time...

yelan

another loss. over and over she kept losing the horrible gamble she was in right now. anyone else would have chosen a different game, a different table - or even a different location by now!

but... yelan just couldn't bring herself to move away.

why? - because you, the dealer of the table were just too cute! yelan couldn't believe her own thoughts, but here we are.

yelan was not even paying much attention to the game anymore. her attention was mostly on you, trying to figure out if there was a way she could get your number, without having to directly ask for it.

even you were wondering by now why she hasn't left the whole entire place yet. not like you wanted her to leave, you didn't want to lie to yourself, and in all honesty, she was kind of attractive. nonetheless, she seemed a little... out of it. Has she had too much alcohol?

One way or another, your shift was about to be over. your other co worker was already walking up to you to take over the table.

you greeted him and with a simple and quick exchange, you left to go get your stuff, and then head home.

as always, you walked past the bar. to your dismay, a weird old creep stopped you and started flirting with you.

"hey cutieee - where ya headed", you weren't standing particularly close to him, but even from where you were standing, you could tell that he reeked of alcohol.

you decided it was best to ignore him and just keep walking. Yet the man had other plans for you. He yanked you by your wrist, and you pulled you closer to him.

"sir please let me go", you tried your best to remain somewhat professional and not punch him in the face right then and there.

but it didn't seem like he was going to let go anytime soon. He kept babbling something about going back to his place, while you tried to push yourself away from him, since convincing him with words didn't work. you weren't even sure if the words arrived in his brain.

you were about to ask literally anyone for help, when a woman stepped in.

she pushed the man off of you, and stood between the two of you, keeping you safe from him.

"didn't you hear her, you creep? she doesn't want anything from you", this obviously seemed to anger the man, yet the woman seemed to not care about anything his drunken state had to say to her.

she simply rolled her eyes, took your hand and walked away with you.

"Are you okay?", she asked.

"ah- yeah thank you so much for helping me", and saying the things i can't say, you wanted to add, but figured it was unprofessional.

the woman in front of you sighed.

"do these kind of things happen to you a lot?", she asked. 

"Kind off yeah, but it's what you expect when you work in a place where alcohol is being sold", you answered.

"well if anything happens, just call me", she said, handed you a slip of pape, before wandering off without another word.

Only after she left did you notice your quick heartbeat in your chest, as if your heart was begging to be left out of the place where it belonged and follow your savior, the woman.

maybe you were going to call her even if it wasn't 100% necessary.

[danika-redgrave124]

Alright, I got inspired again by @thatnonameuser

Another Yandere Yuu x Darling Skully

I'm still not over him and you can think of this as alternative scenario.

It was selfish to find the perfect spell to posion... they mean knock out the NRC Boys they were with. Yuu noticed that the boys were complaining about the lack of magic even though there were plenty of useful things to posion.... knock out.! They mean knock out the boys with, the question is which one to use. Yuu was searching for one when they remembered they could just make one with certain ingredients. Yuu remembered what Professor Crewel said about potions that are rare and remembered one in particular and one they had written down in the book.

Dreamer's Rest

This potion induces a peaceful, deep slumber with dreamlike qualities.

Ingredients

1. Moonlit Lavender – Harvested under the full moon, this lavender brings calming effects.

2. Pumpkin Essence – Infuses the potion with warmth and coziness.

3. Spider Silk Threads – Symbolizing the threads of dreams, these bring relaxation and tranquility.

4. Ghostly Willow Bark – Extracted from willow trees in the graveyard, this ensures deep, restful sleep.

5. Starlight Drops – Glistening droplets collected from the night sky, which invite peaceful dreams.

6. Skeletal Honey – Honey harvested from enchanted skeletal bees, sweetens the taste while enhancing the soothing properties.

Instructions:

1. Boil Moonlit Lavender and Ghostly Willow Bark in a cauldron under the light of the moon.

2. Add a few strands of Spider Silk Threads, stirring clockwise until dissolved.

3. Slowly pour in Pumpkin Essence and a few drops of Starlight Drops.

4. Sweeten with Skeletal Honey until the potion turns a soft, glowing violet.

5. Let the potion cool, then bottle it in a corked black vial.

Effect:

Upon drinking, the potion gently lulls the drinker into a peaceful, dream-filled slumber. The potion's effects last for about 8 hours, allowing the user to wake up feeling fully rested.

Warning:

Overindulgence in this potion results in a six month long coma.

Maybe, Yuu can give this potion to Skully, but no, they wanted Skully to come to them willingly or at least see what they're doing is protecting him from the other more dangerous Yanderes. Yuu sighed, they don't even know where to even get Starlight Drops from.

Yuu was searching for ingredients, finding the Moonlit Lavender and Ghostly Willow Bark. Yuu then found a pumpkin, but Yuu observed it, noting the texture of the Pumpkin and decided against using that one.

"Henchman, what are you doing?!" Grim gained Yuu's attention.

"Haha, nothing Grim. I just got.... a task from Professor Crewel to do a potion of some kind to make up the one we messed up before we got teleported in the book." Yuu explained. "Beside, it's better to try with.... new ingredients from this realm to see if it counts..." Yuu finished their explanation, hoping Grim brought their excuse.

Grim gave Yuu a judgmental look before reluctantly letting the excuse fly. "Fine, only because it'll give us a better grade! What else do you need?"

"Let's see Pumpkin Essence, Spider Silk Threads and the Starlight Drops! We can just ask Jack or Sally if they have any." Yuu explained, walking to where Skully and Jack were which was Jack's House and jiggling the doorknob. "Ah, locked?!"

"Locked?! What do you mean by locked?!" Grim tried to jiggle the doorknob as well. "Come, come on!" Grim huffed in anger as he and Yuu both tried to opened the door which after a few tries, they managed to get it open which Grim noticed Jack was asleep and tried waking him.

"Grim-san.... and even Yuu-kun....." Skully remarked in surprise.

"Skully, my darling!" Yuu remarked, the change from frustration to doting was a switch that Skully wasn't used to quite yet.

"Ah, he's completely asleep!?" Grim remarked.

"Aah... No helping it if someone sees you. SCARY NIGHT" Skully remarked as Yuu watched Grim turned into a pumpkin.

"Aww, wow, cute!" Yuu remarked cheerfully.

"NOT CUTE!" Grim shouted at Yuu.

Skully put the pumpkin in the bag and scolded Grim lightly. "Ah, Grim-san, don't struggle so much. I may drop the bag of your lovely self." Skully zipped the bag closed to keep Grim's protests to a minimum.

"Now, I supposed you want the real reason I'm here, yes?" Yuu remarked, placing their hands on their hips.

"Ah, you are not questioning me on my reasoning why I'm doing this, Yuu-kun." Skully looked a bit baffled when Yuu grabbed his hands and clenched them gently with their own.

"Of course not, you are my darling! The love of my life, the one I am and will have a happily ever after with." Yuu reassured him before leaning closer to his ear to whisper so Grim couldn't hear. "It was why I will be crafting a potion for them, so I could stay with you."

Skully's eyes widened from underneath his shades, his face lightly flushing for a moment. "Yuu-kun, don't... don't make light of me."

"I never make fun of you, my dear." Yuu explained, kissing his hands.

AHEM! The three kids cleared their throats to gain Skully and Yuu's attention while Skully backed away, blushing a bit more. Lock, Shock and Barrel were looking at Skully and Yuu with a knowing yet judgemental stare.

Skully could feel the judgement in their eyes. "Well, if there's a change in plans, we will need to host a meeting. You three, be careful of this bag. It's very important to Yuu-kun." Skully handed over the bag, watching the trio of kids run off with the bag.

"FUNAAH, HENCHMAN!" Grim called out to Yuu.

"Well, shall we?" Skully questioned, offering his arm to Yuu who took it and interlock their arms.

"You're helping me with my potion? I thought you would be naturally more resistance to my advances." Yuu remarked, letting Skully guided them to where the trio was heading to.

Skully looked thoughtful for a moment. "Out of all the Yanderes I have met or encountered, you have recognized me as Your Darling. Yet despite being My Yandere, you haven't changed me nor have you once judged me. You have been kind, protective board lining on overprotective, yet you haven't raised a hand nor demean me or my perspective."

"I was raised by a Darling Parent, my other parent has long since left the world of the living." Yuu explained. "I recently discovered my more Yandere tendencies that couldn't fit into any of the dorms at Night Raven College. The only one that fits is Disamonia, but even so, I do not fit in there either." Yuu looked up at Skully. "I was registered as a Darling because my soul was "empty" and I recently discovered that my mother has sealed my magic. I do not wish to be apart from you for too long."

"Then, we shall be together. For it is plain, as anyone can see. We're simply meant to be." Skully remarked, watching as the tub came back to pick them, so they could meet with Skully's friend.

[theroseredreaper]

The Sea Calls Me Home

Twisted Wonderland

You are a witch who lives on the beach of a seaside village. You've always done all you could for the people of the village who gave you a home after you washed up on their shores ten years ago. This season should be no different.

Word Count: 5,037 ✯ AO3 Version

Character(s): Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

Tags: Gender Neutral Reader, Can Be Read As Platonic or Romantic (it's up to reader interpretation), Mild Horror Elements, Unedited

Inspired by this writing prompt list and my friend Ames's writing.

“I wish to go back. I want to forget everything.”

Cool gray eyes stared back into yours as you fought to keep your focus intact in the smoky haze of the cave you found yourself in. How did you get here, again? The thoughts were languidly coiling in your mind, unable to fully form, teasing you to distraction.

“Can you afford the price of ignorance?”

The sharp command of that voice snapped up your attention back to the present, the dampness of the cave a cool balm on your feverish skin, body shaking from the wild magic choking you. The very air was saturated with it and your body was rejecting it. Your focus lapsed against a tide of nausea that rolled over you. A hand touched your cheek, the brush of fingertips a whisper of relief as your eyes opened again. You couldn’t make out his face anymore in the haze that seemed to thicken the longer you stared in search of his eyes. You had to close your eyes again to hold onto the clarity he had returned to you; your voice cracked against the last dregs of your consciousness.

“I’ve more than paid all that you’ve ever asked of me.”

Townhall was always sweltering whenever you’d enter at the request of the villagers to come in for a meal, a welcome change from the wet cold that clung to every stone and building in the village you’d come to call home ten years ago. Cheers welcomed you as you waved a greeting to everyone, who used the town hall as both the place for hearings and gatherings of meals, a communal space where everyone endured against the storms that plagued this seaside village year round.

“Come, sit!”

“Take this coat, warm yourself, dear!”

“You’ve yet to eat, haven’t you? Here, take your portion!”

Laughing and exchanging greetings with the faces you’d come to know these past ten years, you sat among them, the bowl of oats and eggs warming your frigid fingers as their boisterous chatter warmed your heart. Resources in this village were always short, the land poorly suited to farming, while the mercurial shores made the primary way of life - fishing - difficult to maintain. Despite all this, the people of this village were always joyous. They did not shy from their hard life, they always shared as if they were as rich as the people of the plains. Among the round, smiling faces, it was easy to take note of the utter lack of children. Given that winter had begun to grip the village, it was not usual for the children to begin staying at home, yet there were no children present at all.

“How’re the children?” you asked the man next to you, who looked up at you with a smile sweetened with indolence.

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You need not worry about them, witch. Your miracle cures always work.”

“You’ve not done us wrong yet,” his wife, on his other side, giggled. They were just as the day you’d met them, bronzed by a life of fishing, hair grayed by hard labor. Their children came to them late in life, but they always were industrious, eager to help their parents.

“The potion hasn’t taken yet?”

If this was true, then it would be quite worrying indeed. It’d already been a week and a half since you made it for them, assured of its efficacy. You were no doctor, not by any means, but you knew the way of the land and sea enough to ask of nature how to spell together ways of healing to aid the body back to health. But the villagers tittered at you to not concern yourself.

“Please, you know how easy I worry over all of you. You all took me in when I washed up on your shore, gave me a home when I had none. I won’t be able to relax until I know how the children are doing. I don’t want to see any of them die.”

They hushed you quickly.

“Don’t speak such ill omens!” the fisherman’s wife's sweet voice squealed with humor. “We’ve endured no hardship since you came to our shores, don’t jinx it, dear witch!”

The other villagers laughed in agreement. Your lips pursed, your bowl of food cold and unappetizing now. Their positive outlook despite their dreary livelihoods endeared you most days, but when it came to serious issues like this, it truly irked you. Whenever they needed your help, they had become more trusting in your ability to seemingly wipe away all worries with a sweep of your hand over the years, to the point where you seemed to sit apart from them.

“My spellwork is only what any human can ask of the land and sea. I’m no fae or spirit. Please, won’t you tell me if the potion has taken?” But the crowd only laughed off your concerns, at ease and indolent from the warmth of the hearth and meal before them, assured that your potion would work just like every miracle you’d brought them before. You’d get no answer on the health of the children of the village from them.

Sighing, you took your leave to the raucous farewells of the villagers, a sharp shout of a brawl breaking out over your leftovers as you stepped back into the wet chill of the morning air. It gladdened you that even with the scarcity that winter would surely bring and the disease that was coming for each child, that the villagers were plump and without want for good clothes or good food. Still…the lack of concern grated at you. Of course, you’d never know their inner thoughts. Perhaps it was their way of hiding their stress and woes. But you wouldn’t be truly able to know how the children were doing unless you could see it for yourself.

You’d be unable to enter any homes to investigate without express invitation - it was only polite, after all - so you’d have to seek out the only people in this village who were always honest with you about the state of things. They’d come to this village at the same time as you, but had remained aloof from the rest of the village, which suited the other villagers just fine.

Petrichor and rotting sea gross stung at your nose as you followed the road from the town hall to the fringes of the village along the far side of the rocky cliffs that face the sea, over the cave system that snaked underneath the whole of the neighborhood. The wind coming in from the sea whipped and nipped at you, turning your fingers numb with cold even as you shoved them into the threadbare coat you’d been given that morning. It was hard to make out their forms against the near constant gloom of the gray sky and pale sunlight, but the twins who’d come to regard you fondly were fishing off the edge of the cliff, as they usually were every morning.

“Oh? I was wondering when you’d visit,” one twin grinned while the other jumped up to greet you, his fishing pole abandoned, “Shrimpy, you came by!”

You waved with a smile as you approached, unphased as Floyd ran over to scoop you up into a bruising hug, “Hello Jade, Floyd. How’s the catch this morning?”

“The same as always,” Jade dismissed, setting aside his things to pick up Floyd’s abandoned pole and tackle. “What questions do you have for us today?”

Floyd pouted, squishing your face against his chest as you limply let him hug you. It was usually best to just let him out of his system first. “Shrimpy could’ve visited us just to see us, Jade.”

“I actually did have questions,” you interjected quickly, wary of one of Floyd’s mood swings. “But we can have dinner together today, Floyd.”

He sulked, but put you down, somewhat mollified. “You’re worried about the guppies of the village, aren’t you?”

“You’ve always had a bleeding heart,” Jade mused, shaking his head. “Your potion hasn’t taken, it seems.”

You shrugged. “The villagers seem to think that I’m something of a miracle worker now.”

“They’d be worshiping Azul instead if they knew how much you went to him for his cures,” Floyd laughed, only to be cut off by Jade harshly elbowing him in the rib. “Sorry, Shrimpy. I know you just ask him to teach you stuff. Still, it’s weird.”

“Indeed. Azul is knowledgeable; it is odd that the potion hasn’t taken. There’s yet to be an ailment he doesn’t know a cure for yet.”

You swallowed down another sigh.

Azul the sea witch…

He was an enigmatic mer of the sea who’d been introduced to you by the twins one fateful night ten years ago, during your first winter in this village.

Once a deal was struck with him…

It was difficult to not seek out another one from him.

“Will you just tell me how the children are doing? Have any died?”

They shook their heads, relieving some of the tension from your shoulders. A roll of thunder had the three of you looking to the sky, which had begun to darken.

“They’re the same as when you first saw them,” Floyd turned to you with a frown, his golden eye seemingly to glow in the dimming day.

“None have been taken yet. Your potion has halted whatever haunts them. But it has not cured them,” Jade continued, his golden eye flaring brighter than Floyd’s.

You nodded, used to their matter of fact answers. You’d learned not to ask how they got these answers without ever leaving their hut ten years ago.

“He’ll arrive soon,” they said as one.

It was your cue to leave the way you’d come, following the cliffs down to the beach you had come to call home.

The horizon promised a storm the likes of which would continue to swallow the sky whole and flood the tide caves that were under the cliffs of the coast. The beach was always a disgusting thing to behold on the eve of a storm. Bleached coral, jagged and sharp, would dot the shoreline like spit-up bones, the rust of sediment thrown up by the tide always stained the sand like blood. Here, between the advent of a storm and the rejection of the sea, was the best time to harvest materials from the sea for spells and magic.

It was also the only time one would be able to exchange with the sea witch when he came to shore.

Despite having dealt with him since you’d arrived on this same shore ten years ago, shipwrecked and with no memory save your name and how to bargain a spell from the spoils of the sea and land, Azul was as unchanged as the ebb and flow of the tide itself. His skin was ashen, his tentacles a writhing mass that spoke of the abyssal depths he usually resided in, his hair neatly coiffed despite the waters he rose out of to offer his bargains.

“How quick you are to sell yourself for those who would sell you for half a loaf of bread,” he sighed in lieu of a greeting, towering over you as his tentacles pushed him up from the sea before he stepped down in front of you one human foot at a time, into the form of the bespectacled gentleman he always took when coming ashore. “Have you not heard of the tale of the fool who gave and gave until nothing of him was left? It’s been less than a week since you asked me to check over your potion.”

“You’re so cynical, yet you never decline a deal with me. Hypocrite, much?”

He scoffed, shaking his head at you. “It’s natural for a business man to weigh his risks against his potential profit. If you’re not in good condition, how am I to exact a price from you?”

You giggled as he walked away, already familiar with the path up the beach to the cottage the villagers had given you on the outskirts of the village proper. Despite the threat of the sea swallowing the ramshackle thing whole with the frequent storms that plagued the village, never once had it ever occurred to you to move residence, despite a certain sea witch’s snide remarks over the years. You would be loath to be away from the sea, and there was no home that could possibly be closer to the sea than your cottage upon the beach.

“So? What is the issue plaguing your helpless villagers this time? A charm for their nets for the season? A spell for the hearths to catch flame against damp wood? Grain for the winter?”

He looked about the single room of your home impatiently as he asked, scowling at the empty fireplace in the kitchen. It had gone out when you’d left that morning, the old window liable to drafts. The lumber in it caught fire with a single glare from him before he sat at the sad excuse of a dining table, nodding in satisfaction. You hid your smile behind the busyness of preparing tea for him, though it was really nothing more than some mint leaves and honey in tepid water.

“Medicine this time, actually. The potion I’d ask for your consultation on was for -”

“The villagers, I know,” he interrupted. “I’d gathered as much. It’s always for others, never for yourself, with you.”

You laughed, serving him the ‘tea.’ He took a long draw of it, setting it down with a huff, eyes lingering on every chip and fracture line of the cup. They mended themselves with a quiet slosh of liquid.

“The children have caught something that the potion isn’t helping. Floyd and Jade said that it’s halted whatever it is, but…it seems the children are in a stasis or sorts, it seems. None have died, thankfully. And I would like to keep it that way.”

He nodded slowly, summoning a style of fish bone as you brought out the paper you kept specifically for the deals you made with Azul. “Yes, let’s. I’ve no love for those villagers you care for so much, but the children hold no blame here. Describe the illness to me. Then we’ll see if I can grant what you ask of me.”

So you did, listing the symptoms as they had appeared nearly a month ago now.

Each symptom appeared three days apart.

The first sign was a loss of the legs. Useless and weak, the child would become bound to their bed.

The second sign was a hallowing of the body, until the child was little more than skin and bones. They lost weight and muscle mass in a matter of hours, despite no fluids being expelled from the body, in spite of any meals or medicines given to the child.

That was when you’d begun brewing your potion to give to the children, having dealt with a similar such plague harming the village some winters before, though the rapidity of the symptoms were starkly different from what had happened in the past.

Then three days later, the day you’d been able to administer the potion after consulting Azul on the efficacy of your potion, came the latest symptom in the children you were too slow to reach.

A loss of vivacity, a stillness of the chest and breath, eyes utterly dim and vacant; as if the child had drowned. Dead in all but reality.

Azul’s stylus paused from his note taking as you described the latest of the symptoms, inks pooling onto the paper and blotting out his neat, looping script.

“The price of this is too high for you to pay.”

You didn’t blink an eye.

“You know this disease.”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a demand of Azul to honor your ten years of bargains to answer you.

The fire in the hearth flared bright and wide, stray sparks freckling your cheeks, kissing them with sharp burns. You sat unmoved. The fire shrunk back when Azul noticed the ash that fell from your skin.

“I’m not teaching you the cure for it. Wash yourself of this situation.”

“What happened to the innocence of the children? I can take the cost of you healing them in my stead.”

The fire roared long enough for the edge of your window curtain to catch flame before it snuffed itself abruptly with a hiss, in time with Azul pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses.

“You cannot afford even that,” he hissed out from behind clenched teeth. “Must I spell it out for you? What a cost this high even means? This disease is inhuman. It is dark. Do not involve yourself in it.”

“Can’t I? You’re clever about your loopholes, Azul. Won’t you make one for me?”

He glared, standing and flicking away the stylus with a wave of his hand, the thing disappearing back to where it came in a cloud of ash, right along with the paper he’d been taking notes on.

“I’m not making this deal with you.”

Your brow twitched. “What? What do you mean you won’t? The children - “

He looked down at you, sighing out your name almost apologetically, the command effective immediately as you found yourself shackled to your chair indignantly.

“Azul!”

“Hush.” Your mouth clamped shut and you squealed your ire at him as he looked at you with pity. “You really are a bleeding heart. Know that I take no joy in the harm of children; I am an opportunist, not a monster. I will not make this deal with you. Nor will you make such a deal with any other. You will leave the humans be. If the children are not well another week from now...then I will come to shore for you. But you will leave the humans be.”

You’d be struggling in your seat against his command, but his order shocked you into stilled silence. After these ten years of knowing you, never once had he ever used your name against you like, not once, and now he used it against you in the cruelest way you could have ever imagined.

“Too sweet, you are,” he murmured, hardly able to meet your betrayed gaze. He glanced at the hearth, the flames gently leaping to life again, before turning to the door and stepping out with a look back. In a flash of lightning, he was gone, back into the sea from whence he came.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The next seven days consisted of your anxious pacing along the shoreline, unable to enter the village proper, or even trek up the coastline to visit the twins and ask after the health of the children. You knew none of the villagers would come to see you, none of them ever entered your little beach, not once these past ten years. You wouldn’t be able to ask them anything because of Azul anyways, but it still disheartened you that no one even looked your way as you paced the shore, alternating between cursing at the sea and busying yourself with collecting the things that washed up on shore for spells that you could sell. You supposed it was just business as usual, for the villagers to not even check up on you, since you would disappear into your home for days at a time to work on the magic you used to help them each season.

The anxiety over the fate of the children was getting to you.

The minute Azul’s command lost hold on you on the dawn of the eighth day, you all but sprinted into town, anxiety practically choking you as you asked each villager how their children were fairing. Again, as they had the week before, they’d laughed and waved off your worries. Each villager you asked, the same lack of concern. Until you reached Ms. Spade, the widower who always made sure you had your own supply of grain and linens each winter before she went to visit her mother in the mainland with her son Deuce for the season.

She called out your name in relief upon seeing you, grasping your hands with such a grip that your joints ached. “I haven’t seen you in days! What happened?”

“I wasn’t able to leave my home,” you grimaced, “How is Deuce? Is he still okay?”

Ms. Spade’s sober expression was all the answer you needed.

“We were sure it wasn’t contagious, helping the Clovers care for their youngest alongside Trey, but three days ago, both Trey and Deuce lost the use of their legs. It won’t be long now before both of them…”

You squeezed her hands in turn as her voice cracked before reaching into your pockets to produce more of the potion you’d made before, pushing them into your hands. “This is what I gave the other children. It didn’t cure the other children, but it did halt the symptoms.”

She pulled you into a brief, fierce hug before bolting off in the direction of the Clover household, her speed enough to rival her own son. Exhaling slowly to calm your racing heart, you observed the village to gauge the moods of the people around you. The majority of the villagers were indolent and smiling, but after speaking with Ms. Spade, you began to notice the wary faces of some haunting the shadows of their doorways, looking on in contempt and weary compliance.

Thunder rolled in the distance.

“You’re back in town. I thought Azul would have commanded your banishment to be longer.”

You whirled around to find Jade carrying a cooler of his morning’s catch, observing you and your nerves. Floyd was nowhere to be seen, as was to be expected. He did not enter the village proper if he could help it, always preferring to be by the sea, much like you.

“The children.”

“Still in stasis,” he reassured, pausing as his gold eye flared briefly in a glow. Something about its glow nagged at a memory that would not catch in your mind. “None have died. More have fallen ill, though. It will not be long before all of them are affected.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, Jade’s arm shooting out to steady you as you wobbled at the news, a hot wash of anger towards Azul blinding you.

“Is the storm close enough for me to see him?” you managed to spit out, clinging to his arm as he steadied you. His concerned silence had you looking up at him, eyes narrowing. “You and Floyd know more about this disease than you let on.”

“Not anymore than you did, until Azul told us. It was after he’d visited you.”

You gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him in until you were nose to nose, your voice rough with rage, “Tell me. Tell me all of it, Jade. I’m not some child, too naive to know about the consequences of dealing in spellwork! Why the footing around the issue the minute this disease is discussed? What is happening to the children?!”

He remained calm, shifting his arm to below your waist to hoist you up into a carry, hushing your indignant shriek with a whisper of your name to command your silence. The second time in ten years that they’d dare to use your name against you.

“You’re bringing unwanted attention to us. Come, we’ll go see Azul. I’ll explain as we walk.”

You were forced to sit in his arms in silence as he carried you through the village, the curious gazes of the villagers sliding off the two of you like water as their eyes glazed over and something else caught their attention. You squeezed his shoulder with your nails as hard as you could, irritated when he hardly spared you a glance.

“At first, Floyd and I thought it was like that illness you prepared for five years ago. That was why we fished for the memory of that potion you made at the time and helped you gather the ingredients for your potions. But then Azul came to us after he confined you to your home with the symptoms you’d described to him. You hadn’t told us nearly half of what you’d told him. Floyd was quite cross with you.”

You winced, aware that Jade was cross with you as well, even if he left it unspoken. He continued on, just as matter of factly.

“As Azul told you, the disease is inhuman. To be more precise, it is a dark, forbidden magic. It is drenched in the work of fae dealings.”

He glanced up at you, making eye contact.

“Unlike Azul, the fae deals in the way of an exact, equivalent exchange.”

He looked forward again, taking care as he steps onto the beach, so as to not drop you on the uneven terrain.

His command on you had lost its hold, but you were too tremulous to open your mouth. Azul was already waiting at the shoreline, in his human form, the tide creating a semi-circle around him as it ebbed in and out.

“The children are wasting because they are being traded for - “

You slapped a hand over Jade’s mouth, unable to hear the rest. He was unbothered, setting you down. Your knees gave up, but he kept his arm around you to hold you up.

Azul approached with sigh, taking you from Jade’s hold to support you himself.

“The children have not improved on their own, I take it?”

You could barely manage a shake of your head, a cold nausea rising up within you. Azul’s hand rubbing up and down your back slowly, soothingly, kept your focus in the moment.

“These humans are why I didn’t want you to leave home,” he sighed, easing you down to the sand so that you could sit together. Jade walked off in your peripheral vision, but your focus was on Azul and his words. He hesitated for a moment, removing his glasses and looking down at them for a moment, before looking up at you. “I am…sure you noticed that the humans of this village have always been the chipper sort, despite the harshness of the land they live on. It’s what drew you to them, after all.”

You nodded slowly, fighting against the urge to close your eyes and cover your ears.

“Have you not wondered why that is? Why their life is so plentiful, when their land does not take seed, when their shores are wracked by storms so often that their one means of sustenance is not sustenance enough?”

He paused, waiting for a response, then continued on while you remained silent.

“Did you not wonder why they were so eager to welcome you and give you a home out of the abandoned shack on the beach when you offered magic in exchange for nothing but a hot meal?”

You shut your eyes, refusing to open them even as his hands cupped your face and his thumbs stroked your cheeks.

“You’ve always been a bleeding heart,” he sighed, pulling away. The air grew damp, and it was becoming hard for you to breathe as the magic in the air began to concentrate.

When had the two of you moved from the beach? Where had Jade gone?

“Do you still wish to save the children?”

You opened your eyes to meet his, swaying as your brain fought against what he was telling you, what he was asking of you. You were beginning to gag on the magic in the air.

“I wish to go back. I want to forget everything.”

Cool gray eyes stared back into yours as you fought to keep your focus intact in the smoky haze of the cave you found yourself in. How did you get here, again? The thoughts were languidly coiling in your mind, unable to fully form, teasing you to distraction.

“Can you afford the price of ignorance?”

The sharp command of that voice snapped up your attention back to the present, the dampness of the cave a cool balm on your feverish skin, body shaking from the wild magic choking you. The very air was saturated with it and your body was rejecting it. Your focus lapsed against a tide of nausea that rolled over you. A hand touched your cheek, the brush of fingertips a whisper of relief as your eyes opened again. You couldn’t make out his face anymore in the haze that seemed to thicken the longer you stared in search of his eyes. You had to close your eyes again to hold onto the clarity he had returned to you; your voice cracked against the last dregs of your consciousness.

“I’ve more than paid all that you’ve ever asked of me.”

Azul caught you, cradling you to his chest. He sighed, stroking the top of your head with a frown. You were haggard and drained, your human form ill-suited to take in the untamed magic of the cave he’d brought the two of you to, away from the beach where villagers lingered at the edges, unable to actually enter the cursed beach themselves. He traced gentle touches down your face, your shoulders, your arms, undoing the spells he’d layered upon you ten years ago when he’d delivered you to the shores of this village.

The one deal he’d regretted in the past ten years.

He kept watch over you until your breathing eased and your body adjusted to the magic saturating in the cave, laying you down in the pool of water that’d begun to grow as the tide came into the cave.

Your true form was just as breathtaking as the last he’d seen it, before you’d left home to come onto land, to be with these humans you loved so much.

“To think I’d ever break my rule to never negotiate with the fae,” he murmured, taking in your peaceful, sleeping face.

He hated humans, yes. They made it so easy to prey upon their greed. He truly did not understand what you saw in them.

But he was still no monster.

Likes and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated! If you have any questions about this story and the elements that were left open ended and up to interpretation, please feel free to send me an ask!

[soapymansuds]

Eternity and Counting

Pt.3

(Pt1, Pt2)

(I am SOOOOOO sorry I didn't post on Tuesday. Full honestly, I forgot. But today's chapter is a touch longer than usual as an apology. And by just a touch, I mean almost double the length of both previous chapters<3)

Obey me! X Angel!MC (They/Them Pronouns)

TW: Suicide, depression, self-deprecation, death, big feelings, lots of sad.

MC just can't handle anything anymore and takes their own life. Imagine their dismay to find even death isn't the end for them.Keep reading

~/\~

Since that day, my life, or afterlife I suppose, has been relatively simple. When I'm not resting in the garden, I'm running small errands for Michael. It's easy enough to avoid recognition here, but for the sake of my peace of mind, I wear a cloaking spell whenever I'm out. Simeon agreed not to tell anybody about my presence, and in exchange, he asked that I let him join me on my errands, even if he doesn't recognize me. He claims I could have any face in all three realms, and my presence would still bring him comfort. Sometimes he brings me updates on how the others are doing. Usually, he talks about Luke and his growth. He often avoids talking about the Devildom, and whether that's because he doesn't want to upset me or because he simply can't face them knowing what he knows, I've yet to figure out. It's a nice thought, him trying not to remind me of the best part of my life. But it's not overly helpful, given that, even if physical representations of our bonds weren't burned into my skin, everything I do reminds me of them anyway. I know it's selfish of me to make him keep my secret. But to be fair, I decided nearly a year ago that I am an inherently selfish creature, and I've come to terms with it.

Now that I'm on my own, things are easier. Nobody relies on me for much more than fetching papers or goods, and any failures that occur are mine to handle alone. It's simple. It's lonely. But it's simple. And it's good.

I suppose all good things must come to an end though. As I follow my long-since memorized path through the Celestial Palace, I can't help but wonder why I've been summoned. Usually, if Michael has a task for me, he simply brings it to me. But today he asked I meet him in the throne room, so here I am.

I'm greeted as soon as I swing open the door. "MC! Thank you for coming so quickly."

I'm nearly caught off guard by the use of my real name in public. For the sake of secrecy, Michael and Simeon have taken to calling me a fake name for the duration of my stay here.

"How can I help?" I nod as I close the door behind me. I take notice of Simeon's presence and he looks nervous. Never a good sign.

"I have some paperwork I need run to the Devildom. Usually I'd send Simeon, but I need him for another task today and this is rather urgent." Michael grins at me, likely in an attempt to sweeten the plan he's certain I would protest if given the chance.

I'm nearly nauseous at the idea of it. "You're joking, right? I mean this so genuinely, have you lost it?"

There's a flash of amusement on his face before he responds, "I would never make light of your trauma, no I am not joking. You have your cloaking spell, and all you need to do is hand the papers over to Barbatos. Maybe if he's busy, you'll have to hand them to Lord Diavolo himself. But then you can just come straight back. Simple and easy."

I stare at him, dead eyed and confused. "Yeah, seems super simple." I groan, sarcasm laced in every letter. "There's no getting out of this, is there?" I glance desperately at Simeon who seems to have loosened some of the tension in his spine at my pseudo acceptance of the whole ordeal. He shakes his head.

"Fine." I sigh. "Open'r up." with a lazy wave of my arm.

Michael nods, same fatherly grin plastered on his face as always. I'm sure he's convinced he's won some sort of mental battle, and maybe he has. Either way, he summons the portal, and I steal my nerves to step through. "I'm getting two days off when I get back." I call, lunging through the portal.

On the other side, I take a quick moment to make sure my cloaking spell hasn't warn off before looking around. I'm right where I had assumed I'd be. The courtyard's grand arches and elegant gazebo bring a chilly feeling of recognition to the back of my mind. How many gallas and celebrations had I spent out here, in search of some form of peace from the hustle and bustle? How many times had I stumbled upon Levi, or him upon me, in search of the same thing? I think for a moment that I wouldn't mind him stumbling upon me now.

I shake the thought from my mind as quickly as it occurs. Just deliver the paperwork.

I begin the path to the castle without a thought. The trail ingrained into my very psyche. I almost laugh at the thought. I abandoned this place, yet it never left me. What is it Djo said about men and cities?

I never allowed myself to dwell on it from the comfort of Michael's garden, but God did I miss the sky here. Something about the ever present swirling of purples and blues splashed across the stars is purely... divine. Not to say that the Celestial realm wasn't stunning. But there was always this sense of perfectionism, even in the natural landscape. It never felt right to me. Not like this at least. This has always been chaotic, but in the way a toddler helping in the kitchen is chaotic. Sure, shit's a mess and you're near certain it's going to end poorly, but if you take just a moment to watch it unfold, there's beauty in it.

I wish I could have been reborn as a demon.

No. No I don't. Living out the rest of my days, infinite as they may be, facing them with my own selfishness. I'm sure it would kill me a second time.

I'm utterly lost in thought and the view of the sky as I follow the path. So much so, I nearly miss the tail swishing on the ground in front of me. Luckily for me, it bats my ankle gently before I manage to step on it. Double luck, the contact doesn't wake it's sleeping owner.

Belphegor snores softly in the grass next to the path, curled up with his back to me. Something in me instinctively wants to curl up with him, but I know I can't. So instead, I sit. Divine garb be damned, I'm sitting on the dirt, watching him sleep. I consider making a run for it, but the subtle pull he's always had keeps me calm and still. Even in his sleep, even with our pact burned away, his presence still lulls me like a child.

I shake my head as if I were actually dozing off. Was I? Regardless, I stand up, settling to move him out of the trail, just a little. For the sake of the hazard he poses to himself and others. He's as warm as I remember as I press him further into the grass, tucking his tail over his leg before quickly stepping away and back to my task.

A warm feeling I can just barely remember washes over me and stops me in my tracks. How could I, after over a year away, fall so quickly back into routine. Not only how could I, but how dare I? I made my decision, and I've got no right to just wander in here and return to my position, doting and fawning over them. I truly am a selfish creature.

I tried to explain it to them, time and time again. But they simply refused to believe me. I cared so much, not because of them, but because I needed to. I needed to care for them to feel useful. Asmodeus once told me that I was a "pleasure sub". I told him I was willing to rip my own heart out to please him, but mostly because i never much cared for it anyway.

(As always, thank you soooo much for reading. If you'd like to be tagged in future uploads, please comment to be added to the list!)

-Your Friend, The Author

*tags*

@spffldlbrnf

[adnauseum11]

Point of Contact (John Price x Reader)

John reaches out to Kate for a favour.

850 words

CW: swearing

feedback welcome!

It is the absolute crack of dawn when Kate gets the call she’s been expecting for the last few hours. She’s up, mainlining coffee and checking her emails relentlessly when her cell vibrates across the desk.

“John?”

“Kate.”

Kate’s initial impression is that John sounds tired. Immediately she wonders if she’ll get the full story from him or have to rely on Gaz’ version.

“Gaz said you were going to have a name for me to run? What’s happened?” Her concern is unmistakable down the line.

Of course, Kyle told her what happened, but she wants to hear it from John himself. Their past squabble is sidelined immediately without discussion. John sighs and Kate can picture her friend pacing and pushing his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Her place got broken in to yesterday. Guy didn’t touch obvious jewellery, or cash, seemed to be looking for information. Not sure what type of information or to what end just yet. Dislocated his shoulder before the police picked him up so he’ll be with medical for a little bit. Could be something, could be nothing. I’m hoping we can use their detour through medical to do a little information gathering of our own.”

“You’re sure this isn’t just a B&E gone bad, John?” Kate tries to keep the skepticism out of her voice.

“Worst B&E I’ve ever seen if that’s the case. Man was empty handed after a sizable head start. Odd time of day too, right when people are getting home from work.”

“You think he meant to do more than rob her?”

“Don’t know. Scared the hell out of her at the least. But he wasn’t doing any talking and I’m no good to her arrested so I didn’t force the issue. He’s booked on B&E but he didn’t technically steal anything. He’ll get a slap on the wrist at best. Never hated being a fucking civilian more in my life.”

Kate can hear the frustration in his voice. For a man like John, used to making things happen and getting answers by any means necessary, being beholden to the laws and skills of the local police force was particularly infuriating.

“What’s the name?”

John gives her the name from the police report, spelling it out for her.

“I’ll owe you if we can get this put to rest sooner than later. I’m hoping it’s nothing and just some tweaker, her place isn’t in the best part of town but something’s just not sitting right for me. Maybe I’m seeing ghosts where there’s nothing, but I want to be sure.”

“You really should move her out of there John, either way.” Kate can’t help but prod him about it, finding it out of character for John to be lax about security.

“You think I’m unaware? I thought I was going to have to drag her out of there last night. I’m going to have to pick my moment with that topic.” John’s cranky, making Kate smile to herself.

“At least it sounds like you know what you’re up against.”

John’s huff of amusement is weak, even over the staticky line.

“This favour, would it have limitations?”

Kate switches topics easily, only half teasing. She isn’t above making her own life easier down the road, even if it temporarily complicates John’s. That give and take has been a natural part of their friendship for years.

“Cross that bridge when we get to it.” John defers, and Laswell decides to take pity on the man and let him get away with it for the moment.

“Gaz said she seemed nice. When do I get an introduction?” Kate tacitly accepts the terms of his offer, moving on to personal interest.

“After I get some answers. We’ll have dinner, my treat.” John sweetens the deal further, a peace offering for their last interaction.

“Alright, I’m going to hold you to that. It’s not every day I get the chance to meet someone who can order a Captain around in his own home.”

Kate can’t help taking a swipe at the man, Gaz’ report including just as much detail on the state of John and his woman as anything else to Kate’s delight.

“Unbelievable, fucking Gaz, listen she was not having a good time of it yesterday–“

John’s trying to explain but Kate cuts him off before he can get very far.

“Knowing you, I’m sure not. I’m also sure that after you were asked to keep it down so she could sleep, you did, you big softie. Certainly, you two left an impression on Kyle.”

Kate’s smile bleeds through the line and the corner of John’s mouth quirks up finally at her gentle teasing despite his concern over how yesterday shook out.

“Bloody hell. Don’t make me regret agreeing to dinner, Kate.” He sighs, pushing his fingers through his hair.

“I’ll update you after I do some digging John, keep your phone handy.”

"Thanks, Laswell."

John's gratitude is palpable. The knot of tension in his chest relaxes infinitesimally, and he disconnects the call and leaves the kitchen to rejoin you, still sleeping soundly in his bed.

Next Chapter

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Baker!Johnny x gn!reader Part 1 Part of the AU with Butcher!Simon and Bartender!Kyle Reader is taller than Johnny in this. Watch Johnny be down bad for you. Still haven't gotten better at spelling. And used a translator for Johnny’s accent. Regular english isn't even my first language so sorry if his accent is horrible. Thank you for reading! COD Masterlist | Part 2

Johnny hands the bag with the cake over to the blushing girl and winks at her. She’s giggling, fluttering her lashes at him, when the soft chime over the door announces a new customer. He looks up and stops dead in his tracks. It’s you. Thank god that the guys don’t know about his traitorous heart stumbling over the next few beats.

Suddenly the bashfulg girl is mostly forgotten and he barely gets out an “until next time, pretty.” because you’re stepping up to the counter grinning at him. You discreetly point your thumb over your shoulder at the girl that’s giggling with her friends while they leave.

“Charmed another one, MacTavish?”, you ask, obnoxiously wriggling your eyebrows at him and Johnny snorts, bracing his arms on the counter because he knows it puts his beefy arms on display.

“What can ah say, bonnie? Customer service is ma top priority.”, he looks up at you through his lashes, dramatically fluttering them and it makes you laugh. Wow, now he’s the one fluttering his lashes. What the hell are you doing to him?

You shake your head in amusement and look at the bread and sweets he has on display, giving him time to study you in peace. As always you look fantastic and Johnny wonders how he can make his move on you today. It’s not like you don’t flirt back. Honestly you always match his energy but you’re clearly joking. He never gets you shy and flustered like the other customers and it eats at him. It’s not fair that you get to him while he has next to no effect on you.

“I’ve come up wi’ a freish cake recipe. Would ye be up tae trying it for me? As mah most trusted customer?”, he asks and immediately your eyes find his. Sweets are your weakness, something he’s incredibly thankful for because it means he gets to see you almost every day. And oh, how you sweeten his day with your beautiful face and delectable body in turn.

“As if I could ever say no to that.”, you say excitedly while he puts a piece on a little plate, rounding the counter to give it to you directly. The smile on your lips is giddy when you take a bite and you close your eyes, moaning in delight at the taste. He can feel his ears getting hot from the sound.

“Whoa! That’s really good. And incredibly sweet.”, you manage to get out after a few bites and Johnny leans his hip against the counter. He’d never thought he’d ever want to be a cake, yet here he was. It’s pure luck that no one but you is at the shop currently and Johnny will be damned if he doesn’t make the most of it.

 “Took inspiration from ma fave customer. Tried tae make something that’s as sweet as ye.”, he says lowly and a little giggle escapes you at that.

“It that right, MacTavish? Trying to lure me in with sweet food and equally as sweet words?”, you ask, putting the plate down and giving him your undivided attention. Johnny nearly licks his lips at that.

He cocks his head to the side, one corner of his mouth lifting in a flirty grin. “A’ is fair in love n’ war, bonnie. If it’s for ye, then ah don’t mind playing dirty.” He pauses for a second. “Ah wouldn’t mind getting dirty.”, he adds on.

He knows his gaze is heavy on you but instead of blushing and ducking your head you step towards him, putting your arm on the counter and leaning on it, so close to him that he can practically feel your body heat. Closer, he wants you closer. It’s not close enough, it won’t ever be close enough with you.

You look down at him and bring a hand up to his cheek, brushing over it almost tenderly and bring it up for him to see the flour you wiped from his cheek with your thumb.

“I believe you already got dirty for me, MacTavish.”, you murmur, inclining your head.

Johnny looks up at you, with you this close the height advantage you have is even more apparent, and catches himself swallowing heavily. Did it get stuffy suddenly? He’s not sure he can breathe right anymore. How do lungs even work?

“Maybe ye shuid check if there’s ony other spots that git dirty.”, he breathlessly answers. Is that how his voice always sounds around you? Shit you’re right up in his space and having you so close makes it hard to think straight, yet you seem totally unfazed.

Suddenly you bring your other arm to the counter as well, on the other side of him, caging him in. Your forearms brushing his sides and he can feel himself suck a deep breath in at the unexpected contact. His own grip tightening on the counter, helping him to stay upright because suddenly his knees feel weak.

“Maybe you should take me back to the kitchen for a thorough inspection.”, you whisper, eyes intense on his, making it hard to keep looking at you. He’s one second from squeaking out a “Yes, please.” when you step back and laugh.

The tension building up between you two is gone so suddenly, it feels like a balloon audibly popped and Johnny swears his ears ring from the whiplash, when you shove one hand in your pocket and casually eye the display again.

“Can I have some of the new cake? It’s really great. I think it’s gonna be a hit.”, you say and smile at him, the flirtiness from a second replaced by your usual friendly but distanced behavior.

Johnny’s hands are still grabbing the counter in a death grip and he’s pretty sure he hears his joints creak when he lets go and flees behind the counter again. He really hopes it looks normal, because it feels like he’s running from you. Your way of flirting should be illegal. Are you even allowed to act like that in public?

“Sweet cake for a sweet body, comin’ right up.”, Johnny finds his voice again and you grin, rocking back on your feet evidently excited for the cake. Never has Johnny been happier over his choice to become a baker than when he gets to watch you be so giddy over the things he creates. How can you go from sultry to adorable so quickly?

“Your stuff is addicting, MacTavish.”, you say all smiles. He’s pretty sure the only thing addictive here is you. You and your way of going toe to toe with him just to leave him high and dry.

“See ya, pretty boy.”, you take your bag and turn, looking over your shoulder and throwing him a wink.

The door closes behind you before he gets a chance to croak out: “See ye tomorrow, bonnie.”

It’s probably good that you’re gone already and can’t hear the hoarseness of his voice. Fuckin’ hell. One of these days you’ll send him into cardiac arrest.

[istoleyoursk1n]

Hii 💕 can I request where Gale,Wyll,Halsin,Astarion are cuddling with a female Tav in the middle of the night the owl bear cub walks up to them and stares before trying to cuddle her as well thank you💕 sorry to bug

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅

How would the boys react to Tav cuddling with them at night ft. The owlbear cub!

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: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Gods, does it really have to join us? Yes? Oh, fine. But don't put the poor thing near me, darling, it smells! Don't give me that look, I said what I said.”

He likes the cub don't worry

It was a quiet night with you and Astarion, one which was spent with a couple of bottles of wine and the occasional silent laughter. All but him and you were awake at this time, bickering and bantering as the alcohol slowly sank in.

It started off with his usual snarky remarks in regards to your companions (Gale), then about the various foes you've both slayed and how they were absolutely hideous. Oh, and how he nearly broke a nail. He’s devastated.

Even so, the both of you were content with each other’s presence. a sudden warmth filling his otherwise undead heart.

Though he didn't admit it out loud just yet, he had never felt more alive in his life. Every moment he spent with you was making up for all the years of suffering he had been out through.

Who knew that one quiet night alone by the campfire could make him feel… hopeful. Hopeful that whatever you both may face, he wouldn't have to stand alone in fear. He has you.

And just when he thought the moment was right. Just when he thought he could finally lean in for the sweet kiss he’d finally come to initiate himself, that was when you both heard a sudden chirp.

The face he made when he suddenly saw his midnight snack the owlbear cub nudging against you was priceless, he couldn't decide whether he wanted to curse it or awe at the poor thing.

I mean. It was an adorable sight. But gods damnit this was supposed to be his moment! Nevertheless, he settled with cuddling both you and the owlbear (to his reluctance, he's still quite bitter about it.)

: ̗̀➛GALE

“Well hello there little one! I wasn't particularly expecting to have another join such a special night but how can I to turn away this fuzzy friend of ours? Perhaps I could put on another light show! Dedicated to the both of you this time. How does that sound?”

He was in the midst of conjuring a few light spells here and there as you two nuzzled up together, giving you a tiny little light show all for you.

He simply adored the twinkle in your eyes every time he began to show a few magic tricks here and there, anything to make you smile of course.

This man would light up the sky with the most brilliant of stars for you, but trust and believe that above all the comets and moons above, you will always be the most radiant thing he could have ever admired.

He probably would have tried to teach you a simple trick or two (assuming you aren't already a knowledgeable wizard such as himself), so both of you could light up the sky together.

He could have written a hundred love letters all in your name right then and there and still, each word could never have captured just how deeply he treasures you.

All his time studying and channeling the weave in all of its forms and yet all of the comforts and powers it may hold could never compare to the ultimate bliss he feels when he's with you.

He was a mere second from pulling you closer, a tiny inch closer from finally pressing a sweetened kiss against those spellbinding lips of yours, and he would have gotten it if it weren't for the damn owlbear pouncing atop him.

He nearly screamed He was all so good at pretending not to be startled. Despite the interruption, he could hardly remain upset for long, not when the cub was this adorable! However, he still managed to wriggle a quick kiss against the corners of your lips before you eagerly brought the owlbear closer to the both of you.

He was perfectly content with sharing you with the cute little thing, both of you felt so warm, and if he could, he’d be sleeping right then and there.

He did in fact fall asleep.

: ̗̀➛WYLL

“Oh! Well, won't you look at that! Perhaps our furry little companion would love a dance lesson of his own? No? Ha! Cuddling it is then, come here! Both of you! Nothing but another sweet thing to brighten up the mood.”

He had spent most of the night dancing away with you in his arms. In the bright glowing moonlight you looked absolutely stunning in ways dreams of his own could never compare.

While he wished for this intimate dance of yours to go on for longer, he was perfectly happy with cuddling up next to you too.

Amidst the silence of the night, he would whisper every sweet little thing he's come to adore about you, describing you in ways that could have made your heart swoon again and again.

You’d always find your own hand interlocked with his as if your hands were the only things he’d ever want to hold onto. His touch was always soft, no matter how smooth or calloused your own hands may be, he treated them as if they were the most fragile thing on earth.

The one thing that would shatter him completely is if, in the midst of cuddling, you decided to gently caress his horns or the ridges on his skin, kissing them would only take the words out of his lips. His heart is wholly yours, he couldn't ask for anything more!

If he could, he’d hum a soft tune, lulling you both into a peaceful rest where for just this night and hopefully many more, you both can be lost in a calming peace.

Everything seemed perfect, specifically the perfect time to finally plant a soft kiss against your lips. A kiss he knew would light his heart ablaze and scorch him completely, body and soul- but then he heard a soft little chirp.

He felt no bitterness at all the moment he saw those wide beady eyes of the camp’s lovely little owlcub stumble along to cuddle with you both. In fact, he practically lit up! He was already scooping up the damn thing as if it was his own child, already pulling the sweet cub into a hug.

The kisses he was going to give to you were given to the little bundle of joy, but don't worry! He does have some left reserved just for you.

: ̗̀➛HALSIN

“Hm, as they say, the more the merrier. Who am I to exclude one of nature’s own from a well-needed embrace. Isn't that right, my heart? Besides, the little one is far too adorable for me to simply ignore.”

He was already practically bear-hugging you from behind, capturing you in his arms so it was a tad bit difficult to escape. Though you could tell he was being as gentle as possible, a single tug and he’d let go of you if you so wished.

His head was buried against the crook of your neck, taking in your scent which he had come to grow absolutely obsessed with. There was always something about the way you smelled that made him all the more enchanted by you.

He wouldn’t say much, not when he was this relaxed, the sounds of nature around you both were enough to fill the silence.

You could tell that he was holding back, his hands trying their hardest to remain where they were rather than completely traveling all over your body. As much as he was able to hold himself back, it was always incredibly difficult to do so.

With your permission, his hands would go everywhere, worshipping each part of you as if you were a true deity. One that he was helplessly bewitched by.

There would be a subtle twitch from his fingers each time he touched another part of your body, almost as if he was resisting to urge to go further but he remained behaved. He would save the far more intimate nights for another day as this was supposed to be something far sweeter.

However, if you begin to touch him back? He’d be on the verge of losing himself entirely. Perhaps even a soft warning would slip out of his lips, attempting to both calm himself and stop you from pressing even further less this was what you truly wanted.

In the middle of all his resistance, he’d eventually lose control, his body once more transforming into a bear just as he always does when things became far too overwhelming for your sweet Druid, it was only the sound of a tiny chirp that managed to bring him back to his senses.

He’d calm down the moment he made eye contact with the owlbear cub, his bear form smiling down at the little creature as if he was truly pleased to see the small creature. What was going to be a rather intimate long night between you two soon became a happy little snuggle pile with you, bear Halsin, and the lovely owlbear cub.

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