#then went ''eh one is easier''

[swan2swan]

Really curious about Ben's use of "them" throughout the gas station thing.

Are the attendant's pronouns they/them? Doesn't really come up. Seems pretty he/they.

Were there supposed to be two attendants in the original script? Or a differently-modeled character? I don't think Brock Powell's pronouns are they/them. Maybe Ben's just really general with his pronouns.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Hi! I was wondering if I could just request a general kind of trope that maybe you could just add into someone else's request if it is easier for you because I don't want to make you feel like you have loads of separate requests because I feel like you're very highly sought after because your writing is so good!

I was just hoping for a Rhysand or Azriel x reader where they are just rly protective of her and maybe someone intercepts the bond and they think something bad has happened to her and they are terrified for a while but turns out she's (idk) just baking or something? Or maybe halloween themed where she's watching something scary and they think she's genuinely scared? No worries if you don't want to write it - just thought I'd ask while requests are open :) xxx

so like. did you plan to make me cry when you sent this in???? cus like. i literally teared up youre so precious to me ily lots oml😭🥹

like. i looked like this when i received this ask 🥺

ILY LOTS POOKIE AND THIS IS GONNA BE POSTED MONDAY 8 PM GST ASJHAKJSHFADF

[helicoprinus]

i wish vacationing to another flight didn't come with a 1500g price tag. i'm partially considering switching flights but i don't want to go through the whole deal only to find out i don't like the new one and want to go back but have to wait 6 months And scrounge up *1500* gems on top

(tags of this post veer into a personal vent about my first time being a sheet attendant, just a head's up)

[cavetopeerskj]

Yeah that inhibition post I made was not lying I just straight up am embarrassed to post about a character that's been living in my head rent free. Like how am I supposed to express myself if I'm embarrassed good lord.

[sqoa]

tutoring fratboy!sukuna is fine enough, he pays well and as long as he's passing his classes he's nice enough to you between classes as well. but his attention span is short, and his motivation to study is even thinner frayed. you can't get him to sit still for ten minutes—and when he doesn't pay attention, it's more to the fact he can see your bra outlined under your shirt.

you know he wants to get in your pants. he belongs to a frat: he's open about his intentions with you, but sex doesn't help his grades and he's paying you to help his future. he'd never pay for sex... except for that one time, and the time after that.

but your study sessions grow tedious the more his want boils over. because he insists on sitting closer to get a better look at the book you're referencing. and he's just leaning in to read easier, not to inhale your scent and wonder if you're as wet as he is hard. you cant handle every session running over by fifteen minutes just because he isn't picking up on things like he did when you first started tutoring him.

so, you propose a compromise.

you cockwarm him throughout your study session, and if he recalls the material you went over at the end, you let him fuck you.

and how easily he absorbs all that new knowledge makes you wonder if he really needed a tutor in the first place. more like motivation was what he was needing.

and he's happy to be an eager learner if it means he's rewarded with you splayed over his desk, legs parted as he drills his massive cock into you. you moan so pretty, just as he imagined you would when he first approached you to tutor him.

you cum twice on his cock before he flips you over and fucks you ass-up on his bed. and although his mind is preoccupied with just how well you take his length, how warm and wet and needy you are for his cock even three orgasms in—he also wonders how mad you're going to be when you realise he doesn't even take the class you're tutoring him in.

eh, you don't have to know.

[llycaons]

something else I really love about feast and famine is how wwx isn't all 'wow lan zhan you're the best I can't believe you've been putting up with me I'm SO grateful you're literally perfect even though I'm so needy thank you so so so much' bc that sentiment arises in a lot of fics that handle his trauma or mental health and it's SO tiresome not to mention ooc. like it's not there for no reason bc wwx did express gratitude in canon and lwj IS a really good and supportive partner, but it's really refreshing to see wwx in a stable and reliable enough relationship where, except that one time he was triggered and panicking, he literally never once doubted that lwj would support and stand with him, nor did he ever feel the need to even thank lwj for being a good partner, even through the extremely heavy and difficult work of supporting him through what happened

and they DO communicate a lot, it's more that the gratitude is left unsaid because it's mutually understood to be unnecessary. and as much I'm in favor of them communicating their gratitude to each other, I feel like this dynamic for them is so much healthier and more mature and illustrates how strong their relationship is and how much they trust each other. also the idea of lwj as this...saintlike martyr who nobly supports and reassures a self-hating wwx is really tiring. he has his own struggles to be sure, but he has them away from wwx and the writing doesn't frame him as some tragic, self-sacrificing hero for it. like I love lwj but that's what it should be about, right? this was always going to be wwx's story first and foremost and I really appreciate works that let it be that

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt the random card au again. Why must it go so crazy hard I miss it sm

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 10

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

-----

The town is a wreck, but there's still space for them at the hospital.

Nancy recognizes a few of the doctors - ones who know about the Upside Down - and they're all whisked away into two private rooms. One for Eddie, and one for Max.

Steve is stuck with Eddie. He hates thinking of it like that, because he wants to be with Eddie, but he wants to be with Max, too. He wants to prowl back and forth between them, like his presence will make any difference.

But Eddie's heart is still in his chest, and while the doctor had praised his quick thinking in helping his friend, it's too risky to have Eddie's heart far away from his body while he's healing.

So Steve's in the chair next to his bed, hooked up to the heart monitor and listening to the faint but steady sound of Eddie's heart as he feels it beat in his own chest.

Dustin and Robin go back and forth, one of them always with him and the other giving updates when they come to switch out.

It's Dustin in the chair next to his now, and he feels the echo of his own heart next to Dustin's, knows the kid must be feeling what he is - and probably a little bit of Eddie's, too.

Three hearts, all entwined. Robin could make something poetic from that, he thinks.

All he can do is let Dustin pillow his head on his shoulder, press his hand to his own chest and think come back to us.

Eddie's hand twitches.

Steve jolts up, reaching for it automatically.

“Steve?” Eddie asks, even though his eyes are closed and his expression hasn't changed. “Dustin?”

Dustin makes some kind of strangled noise, fumbling for Eddie's other hand. “Can he feel us?”

“I've got his heart, and you've got mine, so yeah, he has to, right?” Steve asks, aware he sounds a little desperate and not really caring.

“Come on, Eddie,” Dustin pleads. “You have to wake up, okay?”

Eddie wakes up.

—

“I should have died in there.”

Steve feels his jaw tense. “No, you shouldn't have.”

“No, I meant - doc says I would have died, if you hadn't taken my heart,” Eddie says.

Oh.

“I know,” Steve admits. “That's why I asked for it.”

Eddie exhales, long and slow. “Where'd you learn that?”

“Eighth grade science,” Steve replies, shooting a little grin at him.

Eddie gives a surprised little laugh. “Seriously?”

“Eh, kind of.” Steve considers for a moment. He's never talked about this with anyone, but - “My parents used to lock their hearts in a safe in my dad's study at night. When I was little, and I got upset at them leaving, they told me they put their hearts in there when they went on trips, too, and I had to stay behind to watch over them.”

Eddie looks at him, soft and tender. Steve'd think it was pity, if it wasn't for Eddie's heart in his chest. It's just sad, and a little angry.

“I told Mr. Clarke about that, and he said it was hogshit.”

Eddie snorts. “Mr. Clarke said hogshit?”

“Who's telling this story?” Steve retorts, then laughs when Eddie mimes zipping his lips closed and throwing away the key.

“It was hogshit,” Steve continues. “But then he told us that people could survive potentially fatal injuries with heart exchanges. Then, after Starcourt…”

He trails off, not sure how to say it.

“Robin told me a little,” Eddie admits. “That it was the Russians and the Upside Down, and you let yourself get caught to cover for Dustin and Erica. That you tried to draw attention away from her.”

Oh.

That makes him sound more heroic than the moment felt, but at least it also makes this easier.

“The Russian spies, they had this thing that could open your chest. They didn't believe I was telling the truth, so they took my heart out.”

Eddie reaches out to take his hand, squeezing it tight. There's a faint trickle of horror and guilt and affection, and he knows that Eddie's put it together with the changes in his heart.

“I healed a lot faster because we were doing heart exchanges,” he finishes. “So I figured it'd keep you safe.”

Eddie's grip on his hand tightens. “I really am sorry,” he mutters. “About last summer. After - after that, you needed a friend, and I just left.”

Steve licks his lips, considering his response for a moment, before he goes with honesty. “I had friends. I had Robin and the kids, and they were enough. I didn't really need anything else. But - I wanted you.”

Eddie looks at him, and Steve can feel - hesitation, uncertainty, does he really want me?

“Eddie,” Steve says, slow and thoughtful. “I don't want you because I'm lonely, or I have no one else. Maybe there was a part of that when it first started, but - I'm okay, I'm happy. I want you because of you, not just because I want anyone.”

Shock filters through Eddie so hard that Steve feels it like an almost physical blow.

His heart aches.

He doesn't have to ask if that's something that Eddie hasn't been told before - he knows it already.

“I'm not letting you go,” Steve tells him, only because Eddie's heart is still beating in his chest and he's confident it will be well received. “Not this time.”

“I can live with that,” Eddie says, only a little shaky.

—

Dustin takes a turn swapping hearts with Eddie, and Steve heads immediately for Max's room.

Lucas is there, sitting by her bed and holding her hand.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, pulling up a chair to sit next to him. “How's she doing?”

“Same,” Lucas says flatly. “But she's in there, I can feel it.”

“You can feel it?” Steve asks.

“We swapped before - before. Just in case. To give her another tether to the real world.”

Shit, that was a great idea. It gives him more hope, and he sags a little in his chair.

“Jesus, you kids are smart,” Steve says, impressed.

Lucas looks at him funny. “We learned that from you, Steve.”

He doesn't really think that's true, considering he learned it from them just as much, but he lets it be, just gripping the back of Lucas's neck and giving him a little squeeze.

Lucas unwinds, just a little bit, and Steve gets a better look at him - notices his swollen eye, his puffy jaw, and feels a cold surge of rage.

He waits for a moment to let the worst of it pass, then asks, “Swap?”

Lucas looks over at him, clearly hesitant.

“The three of us are kind of banged up,” Steve says. “Figure it can't hurt to have more heart power at work here.”

Lucas snorts. “Heart power?”

“Heart power,” Steve confirms, radiating as much confidence as possible.

He's not sure if it works, but Lucas does open his chest up and carefully pull out Max's heart. Steve's extra gentle as he swaps them, tucking her heart into his chest.

It's immediate, what Lucas was talking about. There's only the faintest sense of Max, and an equally faint sense of a fear and guilt and love that he recognizes as Lucas - the residual of what Max is feeling from him, he guesses. Even stranger is an echo he can feel of his own emotions - from him to Lucas to Max and back to him again, apparently.

“Huh,” he says, at the same time Lucas goes, “Woah.”

They sit there, together, and Steve must fall asleep at some point because the next thing he knows, there's the shifting of a chair as Lucas jumps up. Steve startles, only to see El and Will and Mike come flooding in. They sweep Lucas into a hug, and Steve watches them hold on, clinging and desperate.

Eventually, they peel apart, and El goes to Max's side, taking her hand. Her eyes close for a long while, then open again, looking sad.

“I can't reach her,” she whispers. “Not even with my powers back.”

“She's there, though, right? I can still feel her,” Lucas says.

El's brow furrows.

“Max and Lucas swapped before this happened,” Steve explains. “To keep her tethered here, so Vecna couldn't take her.”

Mike frowns. “Vecna?”

“One,” El says, which - okay, yeah, clearly there's a story there, but not the time. She holds her hands out to Lucas. “May I swap?”

Lucas looks over at Steve, and he takes Max's heart out and offers it to her.

“We figured the more helping, the better,” Lucas says.

El exchanges her heart for Max's, looking thoughtful. It's an even bigger rush, with El in the mix, and - even though Max's heart isn't in his chest anymore, he can feel the echo of her even more clearly.

Lucas sucks in a breath. “It's working,” he says. “She's stronger.”

“The more, the better,” El says thoughtfully.

“Eddie woke up from me and him and Dustin sharing,” Steve says, the realization coming over him. “I mean, it wasn't a real circle, but he was just regularly unconscious, not creepy wizard unconscious.”

El looks at Mike, who immediately turns on his heel and leaves. He comes back a few minutes later, with Dustin and Robin and Erica.

“We made Nancy and Jonathan and Argyle stay with Eddie,” Mike announces.

“Uh, yeah, do you want to tell us why?” Dustin asks.

El's eyes flash. “We're going to get Max back.”

Hearts change hands quicker than Steve can keep track of, but in the end, no one has their own heart in their chest. It's an avalanche of emotion that Steve can't make out - so much it’s almost overwhelming - until he feels something like a guiding hand, firm and insistent.

“Max,” El whispers.

Steve turns his thoughts completely on Max, focusing on her - on taking her to the arcade, on the skate park, on her hanging out in his kitchen as they cook dinner. One by one, everyone's emotions start to take focus - on how Max makes them feel, how much they care, how they need her here.

Max's eyes open.

—

They set up another rotation schedule, this time for Max, who looks a little shell shocked and overwhelmed by all the attention.

“Did you think we wouldn't do this for you?” Steve asks quietly when it's his turn, when Lucas and El are sleeping and it's just him and Max awake in her room.

She doesn't answer for a while, but he can feel her conflicted confusion and then unsteady acceptance.

“No,” she says after a while. “I knew you guys would.”

He breathes out, and they sit in silence for a bit.

“Did you read my letter?” she asks, purposefully not looking at him.

“Nah. You said it was just in case, and there wasn't going to be an in case. We weren't going to let Vecna have you.” He manages to keep his voice steady, though he knows she can feel the edge of the fear he'd had for her. “I wanted to hear what was in it from you.”

She makes a face, and he thinks she isn't going to tell him, but then she blurts out, “I said I wished you were my brother, not Billy.”

Oh.

His stomach drops out, and there's a rush of vertigo that leaves him breathless for a moment, but - not in a bad way.

He doesn't know how to respond to that, other than, “I am your brother.”

She scoffs. “It doesn't work like that.”

“Sure it does,” he counters, growing confident. “Billy was your brother just because of a piece of paper your parents signed, right?”

She frowns, finally looking at him again. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So what's stopping us?” He taps his chest, over where her heart beats. “We have each other's hearts. We'll always be family.”

Max looks away again, then, very quietly, says, “Okay.”

—

“Heard you call Max your sister when you were talking to the doctor earlier,” Eddie says.

Steve feels a little smile tug at his lips as he takes Eddie's hand. It grows when Eddie laces their fingers together.

“You know Dustin's going to throw a fit when he hears it, and insist that you were his brother first, right?” Eddie teases.

“Of course he is.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Welcome to my family. You sure you still want to stick around?”

He's joking, but Eddie's expression goes soft and contemplative.

“Welcome to your family, huh? You planning a proposal soon, big boy?” Eddie asks softly.

Steve's mouth goes dry. He thinks he should say something - anything - but nothing comes out.

“Swap?” Eddie asks, after a few minutes.

Steve's not sure if someone told him or if he figured it out himself, and part of him wants to ask Eddie if he's sure, but he decides to take Eddie at his word. He opens his chest up, holding out his heart.

Eddie copies him, and - it's his first real look at Eddie's heart. There's silver lines all over it, delicate scars mottling its surface, but it's almost as deep red as Steve's still is.

“Oh,” Steve breathes once Eddie's heart is safely tucked inside his chest again.

There's a love there so strong he almost doesn't know what to do with it - isn't sure if it's Eddie's or his for a moment before he realizes it's both of them feeding off each other.

“Yeah,” Eddie says quietly.

Steve lifts Eddie's hand up, presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I know what I want my future to look like,” Steve admits. “And I want you in it.”

Eddie swallows, and Steve can feel an edge of trepidation before it solidifies into something sharp and determined. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Steve asks.

“I'm sticking around, this time,” Eddie confirms. “For good.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees.

He knows it's a risk, but - right now, they're alone, and so he leans in to seal the promise their hearts are making with a kiss.

-----

And that's the final part for now! I do have a sequel planned down the road for what happens after they get out of the hospital, folding Eddie into the heart sharing and settling Eddie and Steve and Robin into a trio - I plan on using the tag "hearts out steddie" if anyone would like to follow it for when it comes out!

Thank you so much to everyone who commented, reblogged, liked, or otherwise interacted with this! Everyone's reactions were so amazing, and I really love reading your thoughts!!

Final taglist: @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @thewickedkat @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy @missmagillicuddy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @ollyxar @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @thedragonsaunt @makewavesandwar @cryptid-system @ajeff855 @mae-liz @the-fantastical-asexual @jettestar @warlordess @persnicketysquares @samsoble @my-love-of-books @mydysfunctionallife @dreamercec @holyangelstudentuniverse @breealtair @shunna @xtraordinarally @thatdamnfan @justalittledrainbamage @strangerfolks @disrespectedgoatman @amber-ambience @anxietyfulloption @thepossummoldypasta @irregular-child @th30ra3k3n @powdeeee @theohohmoment @5ammi90 @ominous-pool-light @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeens @rebellatlas @blackpanzy

[madaqueue]

18+, MDNI - f!reader

sukuna wasn’t a jealous man per se, but he absolutely was possessive - what’s his was his alone - especially when it comes to you. but that just made it all the more fun to taunt him, seeing how much you could get away with. sometimes, sure, maybe you get a little too touchy with random guys at bars just to get a rise out of him, to see what he’ll do to put you back in your place, remind you that you’re his.

“sukuna, what’s the big deal?” you whine as the bathroom door slams shut behind you.

finally releasing his grip on your wrist, he looks at you with nothing short of rage flowing behind his crimson eyes. “the ‘big deal’ is you practically begging that wanna-be frat boy piece of shit to fuck you right in front of me,” he spits.

rolling your eyes, you rest your back against the wooden doorframe. “he’s just a friend.”

“oh, so you get touchy with all your friends like that, hm? put your arms around ‘em, tell ‘em how nice they look in their ugly ass knock-off gucci shirts?”

crossing your arms, you feel the heat of excitement building in your chest - now, it was all too easy to fan the flames. “he was just offering to buy me a drink.”

“oh!” he practically yells, voice echoing off the faux tiles of the bar’s restroom. “well then by all means, go back out there and get your free drink! while you’re at it, why don’t you see if his daddy’s money can get you a new car, or a yacht or something - maybe he can be the one to shell out the cash for you to get your nails done every week, and your hair, and your lashes ‘n shit, because clearly i’m not providing for you enough if you feel like you have to whore yourself out for a fucking $10 vodka cran!”

uh oh. whenever he starts monologuing like this, it’s never a good sign. maybe you pushed him a bit too far this time.

shifting uncomfortably, you soften your tone. “‘kuna,” you sigh, “you’re right, i’m sorry.”

“‘sorry?’” he mocks. “you didn’t look very sorry when your hands were all up in his hair or on his chest, hm?” they should only be on me, he thinks, but manages to hold himself back. “were you ‘sorry’ when you told him he’s the funniest person here for making some lame ass joke about how ‘working class’ i look?”

“look, that’s not-“

“no, no! why don’t you go fuck the trust fund baby and see if his three-inch house-in-the-hamptons dick can satisfy you! i bet they’ve got housekeepers and personal chefs and shit, maybe they can teach you some goddamn manners about how to treat people!”

oh, this is bad. yeah, you went too far.

slowly, you raise your hands to his chest, locking eyes with him as you steady your breathing. “‘kuna, you’re right. i fucked up. i shouldn’t have said that shit, i didn’t mean it and i’m sorry.”

the flames of anger crackle under his skin as he looks at you - god, he wishes you didn’t look so beautiful under the flickering lights in this shitty bathroom, maybe then it would be easier to stay mad at you. “yeah, yeah, alright. whatever.”

but you aren’t done - he’s clearly still mad, so your work isn’t finished just yet. “how can i prove that i’m sorry?” you murmur, batting your eyelashes up at him.

the corner of his lip twitches ever so slightly into a smirk. “‘prove it,’ eh?”

you nod, plastering as innocent of a look on your face as possible, wide doe eyes and glossed lips smiling softly.

“well, i have an idea of how you could make it up to me.”

“anything,” you hum. you just want him to forgive you.

almost instantly, the cool tile floor hits your knees as the sound of a zipper being undone fills the silence. looking up, you’re suddenly face to face with his fully erect cock, a small drop of precum beading at the tip.

“well?” he smirks, “better get to apologizing.”

this smug bastard.

rolling your eyes, you figure it's easier to just accept your fate and apologize in whatever way he happens to see fit - in this case, with his cock in your mouth. parting your lips, you slowly roll your tongue over his flushed tip as he lets out a low groan that echoes through the space. after a few moments of working him into your mouth, a calloused hand reaches behind your head, guiding you further down his length.

“juuuust like that, good fuckin' girl” he mumbles, mostly to himself as he tugs you up and down his cock.

the salty taste of his pre on your tongue has heat building in your core, your thighs beginning to rub together. trailing your fingers between your legs, you nearly make it to your cunt before he roughly kicks your hand away.

“acht - no touching. you're supposed to be makin' me forgive you, remember?” your lips attempt to curl into a frown around him as he chuckles above you. “aw, don’t pout,” he coos sarcastically. “if you wanted to get fucked, you should’ve just asked me instead of acting like some fuckin’ slut out there.”

fair point.

taking in a breath through your nose, you continue working him in and out of your mouth. sukuna was big, and you always struggled to take all of him. sometimes he would be nice and let you take your time opening your throat for him.

but not today.

with one harsh thrust, he pushes himself all the way past your lips until his tip knocks at the back of your throat. a menacing giggle overpowers the sound of your gags as he pulls you off him.

“c’mon baby, not doin’ a very good job saying sorry, now are ya? i thought i taught you to be more grateful.”

with that, his hips jut up again, all the way into you. tears begin spilling over your lashes as you struggle to breathe, but each time it threatens to become too much he pulls back, letting you desperately suck in air.

drool spills down your chin as he fucks your mouth, ravenous and greedy. the lack of oxygen has you lightheaded as thick tears cascade down your cheeks.

but if this is what it takes for him to forgive you, so be it.

the hand at the back of your head tightens in your hair as he drags you up and down, his chuckles becoming more and more breathy.

“fuck baby, m’close, y’gonna take it all for me, yeah?” he asks, mostly rhetorically as you couldn’t answer with the way his cock fills your mouth. all you can let out is a weak whine in affirmation.

with one final thrust, thick ropes of cum shoot down your throat, the salty taste lingering as he pulls out. tucking himself back into his boxers and zipping his jeans, he takes in the sight of you on your knees, black trails of mascara streaming from your eyes, drool spilling down your chin. your chest rapidly rises and falls as you attempt to steady your breath.

reaching a hand down, he strokes your cheek, wiping away a trail of spit before helping you to your feet.

there’s a glimmer of mischief behind his ruby eyes as he leads you from the bathroom, purposely leaving you in this disheveled state. “c’mon baby, let’s go - wouldn’t want to keep your ‘friend’ waiting.”

[artificial-transmutations]

Wrong bag, bro

Music blared from my headphones while I was running on the treadmill when I first saw the guy. It was obviously his first time in the gym, and after having gotten a short introduction, he looked around uncomfortably before approaching the weights. I sighed and stopped the treadmill. It was a good gym, at least judging from the equipment and the cost. The staff, however, was... improvable. It was clear that the new guy had no idea how to start and he would probably hurt himself like that.

"Sup? You're new here?" I said as I approached. He almost jumped when he heard my voice. I took a good look at him when he turned around. He wasn't very fit, at least compared to me. I mean, I'm no bodybuilder, too, but I do go to the gym a few times a week and try to stay in shape. The other guy was visibly unfit, with a small belly and no definition at all, but hey, we all have to start somewhere.

"Uhm. Yes. Actually, I wanted to lose a bit of weight. I'm Jonas. Do you work here?"

I chuckled. "Na, man. I'm Travis, and I just work *out* here. Why are you trying to get fit?"

Jonas seemed to be a bit embarrassed when he answered. "I... hope that will make dating easier. It's hard to find a boyfriend like... this."

He gestured down his body.

"Hey, you should do this for yourself, not for someone else. But yeah, I get what you mean. Chicks dig muscles, too."

The last part was probably unnecessary and somewhat spoiling the message, but I couldn't help it. It was a reflex to make clear I was straight. Really stupid, I know, but hey, that's just the straight genes talking.

Thankfully, Jonas took the hint and didn't hit on me as I showed him the ropes. He was mightily insecure, but a nice dude. After a while, he called it a day and we went to the locker room together. Having started early, I felt it was time to head home, too.

I took out my gym bag from my locker, as did Jonas, and got my soap out.

"Are you not going to shower?" I asked as Jonas just changed to his street shoes.

"Oh, eh, no, I'll shower at home." he said, and I understood. That guy was so self-conscious it would probably be hell for him to shower in a communal shower, so I just shrugged and said:

"Alright. See you around."

After the shower, I went to my gym bag to change into my street clothes but when I opened it, the contents seemed unfamiliar. Of course. Jonas had the same black gym bag as I did and must have grabbed the wrong one. That could happen. I just hoped I'd meet him again so we could swap back the bags. For now, it wasn't that much of a problem. I didn't have any valuables in there, and it seemed that Jonas had brought a towel as well, so I could just use his to dry myself.

What had been in there, however, were my street clothes. I mean, it wasn't a big deal, I could just wear my gym clothes until I got home, but somehow, I got curious and rummaged through the contents of the bag. There was something that immediately jumped into view and that was...

A pair of pink boxer briefs.

I mean seriously? How much gayer could it get?

I was just about to stuff it back into the back, when I hesitated. My gym compression shorts were soaked with sweat, and apparently, the boxer briefs seemed to be clean, I rationalized, but somehow, I *wanted* to put them on, for some weird reason. Well. I shrugged and just acted on the impulse, I mean, it was just a pair of underwear, right?

As it turned out, poor Jonas must have been not that well-endowed. The pair of boxer briefs was awfully tight and hugged my ass and my junk so firmly it was almost a second skin. I looked in the mirror and was a little surprised. My cock wasn't exactly small, but the underwear still didn't leave much to imagination either. But they were clean, and the fabric was quite pleasant to the touch, so I decided I would wear them until I got home.

Man, Jonas was probably in for a surprise when he discovered my XXL jockstrap from my bag. And unlike his - sorry - faggy underwear, I had worn that thing for a day now, so it wasn't exactly clean. I mean, there wasn't any reason for him to put it on, but what if he was curious? Or what if he was a little pervert who liked to experience the smell of a real man?

I shook my head. Where had that thought come from? I quickly got dressed in the rest of *my* clothes and drove home. However, during the drive I couldn't quite shake the thought of how Jonas might just be sniffing my jock, jerking his pathetic little cock furiously while doing so. Man, I really had no idea what was wrong with me today. When I arrived at home, my cock was hard and leaking pre into Jonas tight little pink underwear. Looks like I needed to blow off some steam.

I put on some lesbian porn and fished out my cock and balls from its tight confines. I have to admit that jerking off while wearing Jonas' briefs was oddly exciting.

At first, my eyes were glued to the two chicks on the screen, but as I got close to shooting my load, I leaned back and closed my eyes. Images of Jonas, wearing my much too large jockstrap came immediately and unbidden, but it was too late. With a groan, I came all over my toned and defined upper body.

I needed a moment to recover after that before I could start cleaning up. I stuffed my junk back into the pink underwear without really thinking about it, but realized it wasn't quite as tight as before. Perhaps the fabric was adjusting to my bigger mass. I was just about done with wiping the cum off my chest when my phone dinged with a message from an unknown number:

Unknown number:

"Hey there, it's Jonas, from the gym today. It seems like I grabbed the wrong bag when I left, and I want to return it to you. Can you give me your address?"

I thought about it for a moment while I saved his name to my phone. He probably found my number on the lost and found card, and I was just to agree, when I stopped. There was no rational reason not to swap back the bags as soon as possible and I had no plans for today. But...

Travis:

"Sorry, man, I can't today. How about tomorrow? We can meet at the gym."

I seriously had no idea why I lied, but not-so-little Travis twitched in the underwear as I wrote the message.

Jonas:

"Sounds good. Sorry I took your bag, I only noticed when I got home."

Travis:

"Don't worry, there's nothing important in there. Just my sweaty jockstrap, haha."

What was I doing? Why would I chat with a near stranger about my underwear? I was interrupted by the answer from Jonas.

Jonas:

"Yeah, I have found that thing already."

I hesitated. My cock was straining against pink fabric again, even though I just jerked off a few minutes ago. I really shouldn't be that excited, and I really shouldn't lead the poor gay guy on, but I couldn't help it. My fingers typed all on their own.

Travis:

"I see. And what did you do with it?"

It took a while before the next answer came in, and I feared that I had alienated the guy.

Jonas:

"Well, I'm wearing it right now."

Ha! I knew it! That guy was a pervert after all. I looked down at the tight pink boxer briefs struggling to contain my erection, while a small patch of precum had formed at the tip of the tent. Takes one to know one, right?

Travis:

"That old thing? I'm sure it smells sweaty as hell right now. Can you show me?"

Almost instantly, Jonas sent a picture of himself, wearing only the jock. It was way too big and baggy on him, and I could see his whole body in all of its unfit glory.

But somehow, it didn't look so bad. Absentmindedly, I squeezed my cock while looking at the picture. Then, with a mental "What the hell", I snapped a selfie for Jonas as well, of me wearing his pink boxer briefs. I didn't care to hide my boner, although it was less obvious than I thought. Might as well give him something to drool over, right?

After I had sent the picture, I looked at myself in the mirror some more. There was disappointingly little pump on my frame considering that I just came back from the gym. In fact, I looked even smaller than before I went to the gym. That couldn't be true, right?

But the bathroom scale confirmed. This was crazy! You didn't just lose five kilograms of body mass just like that. Especially, since my body mass was mostly muscles!

I took another look at the mirror, but it was true: my arms, my legs, even my chest. Everything looked less defined than before. And my chest was pretty smooth, too. I usually shave it, but since I have a high testosterone level or something, there's always a stubble remaining. Not so today. As I felt my chest with my hand, there was only smooth skin. What the hell was going on?

I looked back at my phone, and Jonas had answered again.

Jonas:

"Looks good on you, you should wear it more often! ;)"

Did he really think so? My heartbeat quickened on the praise from Jonas, and I could feel my cock reacting again. It must have gotten soft over the whole panicking, but reading this single line from Jonas was enough for it to strain against the tight underwear again.

Except... It wasn't *that* tight anymore. Sure, it was still a pair of boxer briefs and was supposed to cling to the skin, and it did, but before, my muscular ass, pelvis and of course, my large cock had filled it to the breaking point. Not so anymore. In fact, it fit pretty snugly, and although my cock was hard as a rock, the bulge it produced was much smaller than before.

My phone dinged with another message.

Jonas:

"Are you still there, Tray? You're still in for the gym later?"

Later? I thought we had said tomorrow! And why did he call me Tray? I quickly composed an answer.

Travis:

"Do we have to? I thought we'd said tomorrow."

The answer came immediately.

Jonas:

"Stop whining, Tray! I know you wane be big like I, so you must work hart!"

I cringed from the amount of spelling mistakes, but before I could answer, Jonas sent another Pic.

Was that still the same guy as before?! Sure enough, he was wearing my jockstrap, and the face was similar, but boy was he *ripped*. His arms and legs looked like he basically lived in the gym, and his hairy chest was sitting heavily on his perfectly sculpted eight pack abs. He even had a tattoo!

I looked back to the mirror in distress. I was positively scrawny, and not just in comparison. *My* arms and legs looked like twigs from a tree that were about to break from a strong wind. And were Jonas had all that chest hair and stubble on his chin, I was totally hairless, except for my perfectly styled bleached blonde hair.

I started to hyperventilate and had to lean on the sink to not fall.

What the hell was happening here?!

The phone dinged again, and I picked it up.

Jonas:

"Excpext yu wantto let ur tongue work out insted Todays bitch canceled and I Ned so to worship my "

It was getting really difficult to read, but I got the gist of it. But that wasn't right, right? Jonas was gay, just as me, and... Hold on, I... No, Jonas. Jonas wasn't gay, he was bi. Of course, with that fuck stick inside his smelly jockstrap, he'd fuck everything that moves.

All by itself, my hand had entered my pink boxer briefs and was jerking like crazy. Luckily, there was enough room in the underwear, as it was a bit loose usually. Even with my delicate hands, I couldn't close my hand around my shaft, it was just too small for that. So, I jerked with two fingers until I could finally stop myself. My cock wasn't as important for the upcoming meeting as my beautiful ass and my eager tongue that would submissively lap up every drop of sweat from Jonas manly body, so he would reward me with that magnificent cock of his. But still, no need to spoil the fun.

Tray:

"I'm coming over right now, Sir!"

I hope you enjoyed this little switchup! A few additional images can be found at my tip jar :)

[darkstaria]

Yandere Superfam - Happy Father's Day!

It was Father's day semi recently, so I wrote this. Note: it is very important to me that every one who reads this understands that I didn't actually write this on Father's Day. I swear!

Oh, and I updated the soul animal au Taglist again, so hopefully I got everyone!

----

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" A voice sung to you, dragging you from the depths of oblivion you found solace in. The sound of opening curtains cut into you like a knife.

"Mmmghhh..." You attempted, keeping your eyes firmly closed against the rising sun blaring into your eyeballs. Couldn't he just go away? You stared blearily. Clark Kent, or rather, Superman was smiling, a beaming ray that burnt into you.

"Come on now, Sunshine. It's Father's Day! Aren't you excited to spend it with your dad?"

No, is what you wanted to say. But you bit the comment down as you often did. It never helped, not with Bruce, not with Clark. How unfair.

"You couldn't have let me sleep for a little longer?" You tried, almost whining. First they use ‘medicine’ to get you to sleep, then they force you to wake up early.

"Sorry but that won't be happening. We only have limited time with you today! We have to enjoy as much time together as we can before you go to Bruce's." He looked apologetic, but you doubted it. He never truly was.

Your life with Superman was an endless spiral of apologies, a litany of white lies hidden by a brilliant smile. A sun that shone so brightly, you almost forgot the burns.

You gave a little sigh, but acknowledged the futility of your actions. A few years of this and you let go of resisting the little things. It made things easier.

You got out of your bed, doing your best to ignore the fervent eyes that traced your every movement. You reached under your bed, pulling out his present from under your bed. It wasn't much of a hiding space, given that it was known by every person that lived in the house, but you appreciated that they let you have little things like this. Or pretended to, anyways.

“Here you go.” You thrust the present towards him, wanting to get it over with.

“That’s Bruce’s present.” He replied, with a slight smirk.

“Eh.. how?” You mumbled, looking down. “You peaked, didn't you!”

“No I didn't not. I just know the difference between your wrapping, and Alfred’s wrapping.”

You glanced down, noticing the immaculately decorated and wrapped present in your grasp. Whoops.

With a swift movement, you reached under your bed and grasped the other present, exchanging the two with a quick action. There was a visible difference in the two, Clark’s being much more shoddily wrapped.

“Forget about that.” You demanded. Trying to get him to ignore it, you pushed his actual present in his direction.

“Woah, hold on there.” He smiled. “Jon’s been waiting downstairs to give me his present too, you two have to do it together, remember.” He patted you on the back. “Come on!”

With your frustrated affirmation, the two of you went downstairs, immediately meeting the excited gazes of both Lois and Jon. Jon in particular was bouncing in his seat, clutching onto a bunch of gifts.

“Happy Father’s day!” He shouted, a beaming smile on his face. Clark chucked, patting Jon’s hair.

“Thank you Jon.” The two began a conversation about Jon’s gifts, and you swiftly became bored. Your eyes strayed away from the table, until you accidentally locked eyes with Lois. She smiled at you, a soft image of happiness. She was definitely the most subtle of the family. It even took you a few escape attempts before you realised she wasn't your ally. After that it became difficult to see her the same way.

“And what about you, sunshine?” A hand ruffled your hair, Clark interrupting your musings with a single gesture. You bit back a flinch.

“Ah yeah, this is my present… Dad.” You attempted to sound jovial. Judging by the smile on his face it had worked, but you weren't entirely sure if that was a result of your actions skills or his delusions.

“Thank you! Let’s see what you've made this year.” Clark took no time in unwrapping the gift. “Ah, another mug, and just look at this drawing, you get more creative every time.” He beamed. You felt like living in this household half the time entitled you to sunglasses.

Your gift wasn't anything fancy, just a simple mug with a terribly drawn face on it. The words ‘happy dad’ were written under the face, in sloppy handwriting.

Clark walked over to a cabinet, opening it up. In the cabinet lay another mug, this one lacking any drawing at all. Instead, it had the name Clark written on and drawn out, and the word Dad swiftly smudged on instead.

That mug was actually one of Clark’s old mugs, you had just stolen it upon learning that they had actually expected a gift from you on Father’s Day. You originally wrote Clark down, but soon realised that would be a mistake, crossing it out and writing Dad. Somehow, he loved it.

In all honesty, you couldn't complain. If you set the bar this low, you could easily up it the next year without having to put in much effort. As long as you were ‘creative’ Clark accepted anything, if it was from you. Maybe next year your mug drawing would be two drawings, instead of one. You dreaded the time when you'd eventually have to put actual effort into gifts. Surely, you'd have escaped before then.

“Come on kids!” Clark called out, drawing your attention back to him. “Let’s enjoy today as much as we can, before Sunshine has to go to Wayne Manor later.”

Jon pouted. “Do they really have to go? They went last year too. They already spent half their time at Wayne Manor as is.” He grumbled. Jon was more obvious in his possessiveness, something that occasionally ruffled the feathers of the Batfam. The tug of war between Jon and Damian was far too frequent, the memory of it making your shoulders ache a little.

“Now now Jon. Bruce is Sunshine’s father just as much as I am.”

Considering neither of them were your father, his statement was a little infuriating.

“What game are we going to play this time?” Your question was both an act of masochism and genuine interest. Feigning injuries never worked against two superhumans who could look into your very bone structure. Instead, you had come to find some enjoyment in watching Clark and Jon bumble about, trying to play fair in a competitive game wherein they viewed you as both weaker and fragile. It was actually a great method for venting your anger, as long as you weren't too overt about it.

If you accidentally hit them with a hockey stick a few times, or aimed a basketball to their face a little too much, it wasn't your fault! It's not like they could feel it anyway.

“It'll be tennis today.” Clark declared, receiving an excited Ooh in response from Jon.

Ah, tennis. A little harder to use, but very much still workable. If it was golf you'd be screwed.

Oh, wait but..

“How are we playing tennis with three people?” You questioned. Lois tended to stay out of your games, preferring to watch.

“I'll play against you and Jon. If any of Bruce’s family show up early again, then one of them can join in too.” Clark spoke cheerfully, but you knew it always bothered him a bit when they arrived too soon.

Clark and Bruce’s ‘shared custody’ of you wasn't always so amicable. At one point it was downright violent. Honestly if it weren't for the effects their efforts were having on you they'd have probably escalated into a war. They had come to an agreement since, but it always bothered them whenever it was infringed on in some form.

“Time to get going Sunshine! Jon’s already waiting for you!” An abrupt push to your back jolted you forward, giving you a small jump of shock. Ugh. You glared at Superman as he responded to your surprise with good natured laughter.

You slowly walked out into the field, Jon handing you a tennis racket, his smile gleaming like the sun.

You could only hope that Batman was a little calmer on Father’s Day.

[gallapiech]

Some more art I've done for Highway of Hedonism!

[READ IT HERE]

+ once again some behind the scenes stuff 😁

The kiss sketch is pretty self explanatory lol, I dont know how to draw people kissing so I hope it came out alright at least hihi.

For the bathroom one I initially went with a completely different angle! But I felt like that didn't really convey the scene well so I settled on this one instead. :3

The straddle scene... This chapter was initially gonna have 2 drawings, one with the bear in the backseat and the one you're seeing here. We figured it would save some time since we could reuse the scene and only had to switch the characters around. But that made it kind of boring... So we settled with a more interesting perspective! A million thanks to Rory for making the initial sketch for it ♥ Although I cannot show that one, I *can* show the rough sketch of the final drawing!

I think it's kind of obvious that I winged it with the car stuff. I hope it doesn't break the immersion too much </3

Sometimes I forget exactly what outfit they're wearing and mess it up lol. Thank god for Rory for correcting me whenever I show the sketch. Here's Ian without the hoodie, ehe.

As we were planning the art for some of the chapters, we kind of wanted some to be close ups of things or things that are easier to draw to kind of lighten the workload. This being one of them, but I still like it! I loved adding little easter eggs to the little doodles that made. There are some references to friends & inside jokes. This drawing doesn't just show Ian & Mickey's journey, but ours as well :)

The sketch for the scene where Mickey grabs ian's waist was actually sketched by Rory! She has helped me sooo much with the art and I truly cannot thank her enough for it. Because I didn't create the sketch I cannot show it. However I kind of got a funny story. While I was drawing this some friends and I were watching Pitch Perfect and I was streaming it. But I had to open the sketch so I could copy it and Accidentally showed it on stream and I panicked so hard hahahaha. Soooo if some of y'all remember seeing it 👀 now u know what it was for, lol.

That's all for now :D I hope you're all as excited about the upcoming chapters as I am!!

[motthe]

I was just rereading the house call the other day so I'm super stoked you're doing Arcane fics again! I adore the lumen au SO much. May I request academic rivals lumen au with Viktor? Him and reader both being incredible academics competing for the same position, but up til now haven't met in person and don't realize it's their soulmate they're trying to beat. However short/long you want and whatever format you prefer!

I hope you don't mind, I did fem!reader for this drabble. If not I can go back over it, no problem!

Professor Heimerdinger did his best to not show favoritism amongst his students. Each and every one of them had a grand mind, reaching aspirations, and a passion to learn. They were the stars to his sky and he would not trade anything for a single one.

But there were those who earned their place in the elite, guiding those with their brilliance onto a path of achievement some might fail to find. Heimerdinger did not make it any easier on them in their greatness, if anything he asked for more. And now with it being time for a new assistant he was having a hard time choosing from his collection of constellations. 

“I’ve finally narrowed it down to two of you,” he said to Viktor, taking a moment to sip his tea. “You’ve shown marvelous progress this semester as you have for all the others—a constant, you are, my boy!”

Viktor swirled the amber liquid around in his cup. He had known what the meeting was about as soon as Heimerdinger had invited him to his office. It left his stomach in knots. 

A softness grazed his ear, adding pressure as it traveled under his jaw. He allowed himself a small moment to bask in the touch before he raised his hand to gather your light and bring it down to sit on his leg. 

Lumens all had their shows of affection, always doing their best to help when they sensed stress. You preferred to pull him out of his head by taking up his attention. From running through his hair and making a mess of it to nudging his cheek, you would do anything to get his eyes on you. Right now, he couldn’t have you distracting him, so he kept a hand over you, biting back a smile as you wiggled against his palm. 

“And the other student you are ruminating on?” he asked.

“Hm?” The wise yordle’s ears perked up as he swallowed another sip of tea. “Oh, no need to worry about that. The point of this meeting is to gauge your overall interest in the job at hand.”

“Consider me interested, Professor.” Viktor set his porcelain cup down, leaning back to meet his gaze. “Is there to be a contest? A, eh, battle of the wits?”

“By the spirits, no!” chuckled Heimerdinger. “I would never pin you against one another like that. The last thing I need is having two of my best students at each other’s throats!”

“And, yet, you seem…concerned about me knowing of the other candidate.” Viktor raised an eyebrow as his professor coughed, turning in his chair and hopping down. The young man grabbed his cane and stood as Heimerdinger approached. 

As soon as he raised his hand from you, your bright form went twirling up into the air. He blew a short breath at you as you tried to hover in front of him, clearly irritated if your budding red color was any indication. You bounced against his nose in retaliation, floating down to sit on his shoulder.

“I only mean to keep the mystery alive, my boy! There are many times in life we are faced with the unknown and must navigate blind.” He slowed his pace to remain by Viktor’s side as the two made for the door. “By the end of the week, I will have come up with something suitable to decide which of you will become my assistant, but for now, I ask you to think on it and be sure the job is something you truly want for yourself.”

“Of course, Professor,” said Viktor as he stepped through the doorway, cane clicking against the ground. 

“Spectacular! Now off with you! I know finals are right around the corner for you two.” Heimerdinger waved before shutting the door, leaving Viktor out in the hall with an inkling he was not too fond of.

As he began his walk to the library, he noticed your stillness on his shoulder and grinned to himself.

“Pouting, are we?” he hummed. A flash of crimson light had him glancing over, but the majority of you was still a soft yellow. It made him chuckle.

Entering the library, he went straight to the front desk, nodding to the librarian as she looked up from her paperwork. 

“Hello, Viktor, anything I can help with?” she asked.

“Just a pickup. I sent the requests this morning,” he answered. 

“Let me check the cart.” Pushing her chair out from the desk, a purple lumen rolled off the counter to follow her as she went to the back office in search of his books. He waited by patiently, taking in the peaceful ambiance of turning pages and scribbling pens. 

You nudged at his neck, done with your little strike. He brought his hand up to rub a finger over the top of you, returning the sentiment. The yellow light phased into that lovely pink shade he adored—the sign you were content. 

“Here we are.” He looked up, surprised as the librarian sat down his books. He hadn’t heard her returning. “One of them was already checked out, it seems, but you’ll be the next in line for it as soon as it’s turned in.”

“Many thanks,” he said, gathering the study material against his side before heading off to his dorm. 

There was mail—the scores from last week’s test, no doubt, and a vanilla envelope stamped with that cursed emblem. He rolled his eyes, attempting to prepare himself for what was to come as he unlocked his door. He went straight to his desk to drop off his books and sit. You wandered down his arm and under the lamp as he switched it on, enjoying the warmth of the bulb as he grabbed his letter knife.

As he scanned the parchment he was met with usual sight. His marks were as predicted in his class, but there sitting on the next column over for the professor’s second class of the day, was that same name that shadowed him since his third semester. He opened the second piece of mail with a sigh.

Guess we’re both head to head for the role of Heimerdinger’s assistant. He didn’t want me to know who I’m up against as I’m sure he won’t want you to, but there’s no mistaking his two, brightest candidates.

P.S. Tied again for perfect scores. I hope you’re studying for finals. Don’t want to end up a point shy again, do you?

He tossed the letter into the bin, jaw clenched. You moved from your spot to rub against his hand, back to your color of neutrality. He let out a slow breath.

“I know,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t get so worked up.”

He knew better. Years had passed but his rival had not lost a bit of their flare. He had met his fair share of competitive students as well as bullies, but this one walked a fine line. 

Viktor never bothered to waste energy on such petty pastimes. He recognized her name and had heard it in passing from professors when they spoke of the highest grades. She was always mentioned—a star pupil. In the beginning, he had been curious, but she was a ghost, then. No classes were shared and Viktor was never a social being to begin with, so seeking her out was never a priority. He wouldn’t know her face if he passed her in the hall.

Yet, somehow, she tracked him down enough to send these little notes time and time again. He never replied, but it did not stop her.

He did his best to push her from his mind, burying himself into his classes. When he checked with the library the next day, the book he needed was returned, so he added it to his growing collection on his desk. The week went by quietly.

A knock came at his door.

“One moment,” he called, a tired breath slipping from his chest as he pried himself away from his chair and towards the door. You tussled along the top of his head as he peered through the peephole, humming. It was only went he looked further down he saw a tuft of hair.

“Professor,” he said as the door opened.

“Good evening, Viktor,” said Heimerdinger, holding up an envelope, “I’ve come to deliver my assignment to you and miss—er, to the other student I’m considering for the role of my assistant!”

He leaned against his door jam, managing a tight smile. “You need not keep secrets. I’m more than aware who your other ‘star pupil’ is.”

Heimerdinger sighed, brow furrowing. “Oh, fiddlesticks! I should’ve known you would figure me out. She did, too.”

Viktor would say it was obvious, but he spared the poor man. It wasn’t as if he knew how cumbersome the girl was, needling Viktor any chance she got.

“Well, it makes things a bit easier, I suppose,” Heimerdinger said, holding up the envelope again. “I know your exams are beginning, so I made this as simple as I could. The details of the assignment are within. I looked forward to it, my boy!”

With that, the yordle went on his way, leaving Viktor to slip back into his room and lock his door. Looking down at the parchment in his hand, he squinted as you fell into sight, catching yourself just in time before floating off behind him.

“Were you up there the entire time?” he huffed, raising a hand to fix his hair. 

You twinkled mischievously, back on his desk and in the warmth of his lamp light. 

Shaking his head, he crossed his room and eased down into his desk chair once more. You nudged the letter opener where it sat beside you.

The assignment was as Heimerdinger promised, simple. He wanted a written answer of what being his assistant would mean to him as both a scientist and a person. There was no word limit and he expected it to be turned in to his office by the end of the weekend before classes began.

“I’m assuming he doesn’t want a basic answer,” Viktor mused allowed, eyes slinking back to you. He smiled as you swayed from side to side, the outer layer of your light trailing with the movement. You were a strange combination of green and orange—excited and nervous. Perhaps plans for the weekends? Or maybe you were facing something just as important as he was—a door to the future. 

“Better to start right away,” he breathed, searching his desk. When he couldn’t find his pen, he began closing and stacking the books to open up the space. One must have been teetering on the edge because the next thing he knew there was a mess on the floor.

Accepting the new chore with a roll of his shoulders, he turned and began to tidy up. He paused, though, at the book that lied open. Sitting in the crease of the pages was some sort of bookmark, thin and metallic if the light reflection off of it had any indication. Grasping the edges, he brought the text back to his desk’s surface, holding up the thin item for better observation. There was an intricate design that changed when angled in different ways. It was quite pretty and likely cost more than Viktor would pay to keep tabs in a book. 

Flipping to the start, he looked for the checkout slip attached and slid it from the pocket, roving over the names until he found his. Above it was that cursed name.

“For the love of—” He let out an aggravated scoff, glaring at the bookmark. Of course it would belong to her. With all the letters she sends, she probably doesn’t glance twice at the cost of a stamp or mailing fees. She has money to spare if she buys trinkets like that.

He laid it aside along with the mess of books. When he turned in Heimerdinger’s assignment he’d give the bookmark to him as well. He would get it back to her. 

Come the end of the weekend, Viktor was up bright and early to drop off his explication. The halls were mostly quiet, a few teachers offering a greeting as they went by. The students still recovering from whatever activities they got up to. Viktor didn't have the time. He needed to return the textbooks and check out more for the next exam, also grab some more pens. He was running low.

Turning the corner that was attached to Heimerdinger’s office, Viktor stopped as he spotted a figure by the door. The uniform revealed she was a student, her hair pinned back from her face as she opened the mail slot and tucked an envelope inside. He spotted a lumen in the crook of her elbow, a warm brown against the cream of her coat. 

The metallic clap of the mail slot closing broke him from his observation. When he raised his eyes he found the girl had noticed him, eyes wide before a smirk curled at her lips.

“Well,” she chuckled, “we finally meet.”

“I beg your pardon?” he said, repositioning himself as she turned to face him. 

“Oh, c’mon, Viktor.” She crossed her arms, careful of her lumen as she cupped a hand under it. His chest warmed at the sight. Despite such a devil-may-care attitude, she was soft with it. “Another student here this early, turning something into Professor Heimerdinger? Need I say more?”

“Ah,” he muttered, lips curling just a bit in distaste as he let her name slip.

“Ding, ding, ding,” she sang, chin rising. “I suppose it’s about time we met, being academic rivals and all.”

“You enjoy it a bit too much,” he said, shaking his head as you tumble from his shoulder, slowly floating forward. You’re a bright orange, so very excited. If only he wasn’t dealing with her right now, he’d smile.

“Oh, it’s all in good fun!” She glances at her lumen as it hovers up from her embrace before turning her attention back to him. “You’re always all by your lonesome. I’d thought you’d enjoy some friendly competition.”

“I don’t have time for frivolous games. I thought you might have understood that seeing as I never replied.”

You froze, midair, causing Viktor to realize just how far your light had wandered from him. That sparkling orange had dulled to a grayish blue.

He reached for you, concerned before he noticed his rival’s face beyond you. She was looking at the floor, smugness gone, and the lumen attached to her was now slowly floating up, a foot away from yours.

His breath caught in his throat as it moved higher. He let his hand fall to his side as it nudged against you, sending a bright flash that had him closing his eyes. When he blinked again his rival—you—were staring at the two lumens in shock. The dull color of your lumen had gone milky white.

You both stared at one another, then. 

“I change colors?” you muttered.

He sucked in a breath. “Y-you do, yes.”

“Oh,” you said, rubbing your hands over your sides, “weird.”

“No, it’s, eh,” he stumbled over the correct words, bringing a hand to his neck, “you are honest with your emotions. Very, what do they say, er…”

“I wear my heart on my sleeve?” you said, smiling.

“Yes, that,” he murmured, nodding.

“I get that a lot,” you chuckled. It was nothing like the first one he’d heard from you. This one was much weaker. Sadder.

“I apologize,” he began.

You shook your head. “No, I get how irritating I must’ve been. I should’ve stopped when you never sent a letter back. That’s on me.”

“No, I ,” he sighed, taking a step towards you, the hit of his cane on the floor pulling your eyes to his, “I assumed you were ‘poking the fun’ at me. It wouldn’t have been the first time.”

“No, no I meant it to be friendly, I’m sorry,” you hurried to say, bridging the distance bit by bit. “I would never poke fun at you, Viktor. You’re brilliant. I hold such high respect for you.”

“Oh.” He was blindsided by the joy that came from hearing that, especially from his soulmate. “I, well, thank you…”

“Can we start over?” you asked, smiling nervously as you held up a hand. “I promise I’m much better in person.”

You are perfect, he thought, unsure how fate would bless him with something as beautiful and smart as you. 

[pinkshortbread]

Can you do members of the tulpar with a partner who struggles with mental health issues (like depression or something of the sort), if it makes it easier for you to only do one of the tulpar members tho that’s fine !! love your writing btw ^_^

Thank you so much for your feedback ! 😭💞

For the moment, I only write for Curly, Daisuke and Anya. I hope you all don't mind. Maybe later for Swansea, I'm uncomfortable with writing about Jimmy (even though I like how written he is, eh I don't even need to justify myself why I don't want to write for him, anyway-) 😔✌️

WARNING : MDNI ; May triggers some people ; Sensitive Subjects.

[How do the members of the Tulpar cope with their partner who struggles with mental health issues ?]

Due to personal experience, I have chosen anxio-depression. When you went on broad the Tulpar : you lied about your condition to protect yourself from losing your job. In fact, Pony Express used to be precise and kept an eye on mental health issues but now, it's not quite the case (unfortunately).

💫 Curly 💫

Curly noticed some details : you felt restless, you had trouble sleeping. That's why you went to the lounge pretty late at night to pass the time.

"Curly ? Why are you here ?" "I should return the question Love." "Trouble sleeping, but I'm okay." It ticked something inside Curly's chest, you weren't okay. Everytime he left the cockpit to go to sleep to his quarter, you were here : your eyes on the screen, in your own world, looking tired, drowned in your thoughts.

He sat next to you, placing his hand onto your thigh, rubbing sweet circles to soothe the stress feeling you were breathing out. "I'm sorry, but I know you're not..."

The next thing you did is throwing yourself into his arms. You cried, cried so much into his shoulders, confessing to him that you were struggling with your depression on broad the Tulpar, that you lied about your issues, you didn't even talk about it with Anya. You were lost, you didn't know what to do. That only built up your anxiety you already tried to control. It was unbearable for you to keep everything to yourself.

And Curly listened. He listened to everything you said : your had trouble to manage the little of energy you had, you didn't know how to feel positive, your sleeping schedule is completely broken...

He kept your crying form close and tight to him, almost afraid of losing his partner and companion. He is the only one who were able to listen and feel what you felt at the right moment, he did it perfectly.

"I lied to everyone about it, even you !" "No you didn't, you kept to yourself and you needed to let go. But I'm here and I'm not dissapointed by you. I love you"

Let's just say, not too short after that, you asked him if he could sleep with you in your quarter after your confession. He accepted.

🌺 Daisuke 🌺

Daisuke didn't notice at first, but : sometimes you where quite irritable to him, which questionned him but he couldn't put his finger on it, maybe you were nervous about the "not being on Earth situation", was he wrong ? But one day, you stormed into his room, sliding and opening his door wide.

"Daisuke..." You started crying as you fidgeted your fingers nervously. "I'm sorry, I've been awful to you..."

As he turned his head to see you crying, his door completely open. Your cries started to resonate inside the Tulpar. He rushed to you, closing his door behind you in the process and cupping your cheek. "No no no, baby what's wrong ?"

Between your cries and hiccups, you told him about your mental health, that you've been struggling even more with your stupid job and that you felt like it started to ruin your relationship, your medication started to run low due to a debut of an anxiolytic addiction. It was bad.

"Shit, baby, I didn't know about that..." Daisuke felt helpless about your issue but : "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better ? Food ? Video games ? Cuddles ? We can take the whole night if you want to talk about it, I can't leave you like that..."

"I don't want it to ruin our relationship-" Suddenly, Daisuke grabbed you by your hips, bringing you even closer to him. "Don't you dare to say that again Boo, I still love you."

💧 Anya 💧

Due to the fact that Anya is the nurse of the whole crew, you told her about your mental health way longer before your relationship started. But one day, you didn't show yourself to the psych eval. It was very unusual from you.

Anya decided to look for you around the Tulpar, questionning everybody. They didn't see you, so you must be in your quarter.

And there she saw you, sitting on your bed and staring at the floor. "Oh no Honey..." She faced you, sitting in front of you. "You weren't ready for your psych eval today ?" You nodded.

You needed some time to talk about it with her, when job and personnal issues start to bond together that's where the problems start you told yourself. Anya told you that it couldn't be an issue, but your thoughts were louder than her voice.

Anya brought her hands to your calves as she layed her head onto your lap. "It's going to be okay, I'm here. You don't have to talk about it, you are not alone." Her words sounded right, you shoulders relaxed. Your hands meets her hair, your fingers intertwined with her strands. You let out a big sigh.

"I love you..." Anya looked up at you, some tears rolled onto your cheeks. You didn't want to lose her. Her look softened. "Oh, I love you too, so so much... Don't forget that..."

For the first time, you heard her.

[alotofpockets]

Sticks & stones | Mary Earps x Man United!Reader

Where Mary says something hurtful

Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

-----

You signed for Manchester United in the January transfer window, the team wanted to up their defence the rest of the season, and you had been their best option to do so. 

The team had welcomed you with open arms, but not everything went as smoothly as you had hoped. You didn’t let it bother you much though, knowing that you just had to prove yourself to the team for them to accept you into it fully.

Your playing style was something new to the team. While you were a very sweet, kind, and caring person off the pitch, your on pitch personality was a stark difference. You were very confident on the pitch, which was often perceived as arrogance. That was the part that bothered Mary the most.

She was fine with a new defender coming in to help get their defence better, making her job as a goalkeeper easier. But the arrogance you brought to their game was something she could not wrap her head around. 

After a couple of matches, you had won over the fans and most of the players as well. However, Mary was not one of them, though at points you thought you were even managing to make a little progress with the goalie.

When the semi-final match against Manchester City came around, you were one of the key players, and often got yourself a starting position, having become a crucial part of the defence. 

City had managed to put one in the back of the net, and so had United a few minutes later. The teams were both well matched to each other, which of course was to be expected since the both of you made it this far into the competition.

Going into the 75th minute the score was still level, and both teams were feeling the pressure. Chloe Kelly was making a run towards your goal after intercepting a ball in midfield. You and Mary were the only ones between her and the goals, so you knew you had to do everything to stop her. 

You went in a little too aggressively, and to your frustration completely missed the ball and slid fully into Chloe’s ankle. As she topples over you and the referee comes running your way, you know you messed up. The referee reaches into her pocket and pulls out a red. 

In defeat you stand up and watch the referee point the card in your direction. Katie and Millie ran up to tell the referee down to a yellow, but you knew it was to no use. The first red in your career, never even haven’t gotten red after a double yellow. 

As you were about to walk off, you heard the words from Mary coming from behind you. “Great, just what we needed, another arrogant show-off that might cost us the game.” Her words were more to herself than to anyone in particular, but they were loud enough for you to hear.

The teammates you passed consoled you as you walked off the pitch, but their words wouldn’t erase the ones that were spoken by the English goalkeeper. The booing from the City fans was also not a great feeling.

In the locker room you go over the moment in your head again. Getting red alone would have gotten you down, but with Mary’s words on replay, you were sitting there with tears in your eyes. 

When your teammates started trickling in you were already showered and back in your travel outfit. Some of them came towards you offering a quick hand in support. You had been able to keep up with the score of the match on your phone, and luckily your teammates managed to kick another one in the back of the net and secure Manchester United a spot in the final. A final match you would have to sit out. 

Mary, who’s cubby was next to yours, offered a hand on your shoulder, but you shook it off. “Eh okay, what did I do?” Mary questions jokingly, not realising that you had let your other teammates do what she just did. You look her right in the eyes and say, “Sticks and stones, right?” 

The goalkeeper thinks hard of what you meant, but you thought you’d help her remember. “Arrogant show-off. Words hurt, you know? I admit that I went in too aggressively, but I wasn’t trying to show off, I was trying to prevent her being able to get one on one with you.” You kept your voice low, not wanting to interrupt the rest of the team from celebrating.

“I am sorry for saying that. I really didn’t mean it. In the moment I was very frustrated and therefore wasn’t thinking clearly.” You sighed, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t still think of me that way.” 

Mary is quick to shake her head, “I really don’t. You are an incredible player and you have given so much to this team. I don’t think we would have been here today if it wasn’t for what you brought to our game.” 

You stare at her dumbfounded for a moment, “You do?” You thought you had a long way to go to convince the goalkeeper of your worth, but she thought of your playing like this? “Yeah, of course. I’m sorry if I didn’t make it seem that way, and again very sorry for what I said on the pitch.”

From that moment on you felt fully part of the team, without having to prove yourself, playing with them became even more enjoyable. While you sadly weren’t able to play in the final yourself, the team did manage to win the title, and knowing that you had been a part in that, was all that mattered now.

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging!💗

[catsteeth]

The Bird & The Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

FINALE +:✿ Chapter - 20 ✿:+ Gone Is The Cage

Previous Chapter | Chapter Index

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: MDNI, smut, spanking, chocking, p in v unprotected sex, oral sex (fem rec), hair pulling, mask wearing, VIOLENCE, NSFW themes, Sandor “my wife” Clegane, misogyny, protectiveness, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mention of prostitution. 

Word Count: 13K 

As the days went by in Winterfell. Sandor was all the more protective. Like a sneering dog whenever anyone got too close to you or your babes. If you weren’t sleeping, feeding your babes, or having Sandor feed you, you were more than likely apologizing for Sandor snapping at some poor midwife who was a new face. But after a fortnight, you were soon well enough to travel. 

As the time for you and your new family to leave Winterfell, your chambers were overrun with handmaidens packing away your belongings. 

As Sandor entered your chambers, he was disappointed that he was not greeted by you. Instead your midwife, Eira who was examining your daughter, “How's the girl?” Sandor asked in a gruff tone, his gentle eyes landing on his daughter. 

As he approached the babe he placed his large hand on top of her head. Caressing it gently, hardly touching her at all. Though she had grown and gained weight, he still did not trust himself with her.

“Growing well, M’Lord. Her mothers kept her well fed.”  Eira said as she snapped her fingers near the babe's ear, testing her alertness to sounds. “She is a healthy one. Well enough for the journey.” Eira said with glee.

A smile tugged at the corner of Sandor’s mouth and was accompanied by a small sigh of relief. Your daughter seemed to have borne the brunt of such a premature birth. He let the little babe hold onto his finger as he looked around the room with a confused look, “Where’s the afterbirth?” As he asked just as you walked into the chamber holding your son, “Ah there he is.” Sandor rasped. 

“I don’t like that name for him.” You said with a smirk, as you approached Sandor and Eira.

“He’ll need to toughen up, eh?” Sandor said with an uncharacteristically playful tone as he looked at the boy in your arms.

“He is not even a year old.” You said as you placed the boy in Sandor’s arms.

“Can’t have him growing into a cunt, now can we?” Sandor said gruffly as he looked at the boy within his arms.

You gently caressed the babes cheek, “Don’t listen to him sweet boy, your fathers a grumpy old mut.” You said softly. You looked up at Sandor, who gave you a very small smile as he placed a hand on the back of your head. You were about to push yourself up onto your tiptoes to kiss him, but a knock fell upon your door. Making Sandor groan in annoyance. “Come in.” You said. “Jon.” You said happily. Relieved to see your cousin was left unscathed by the war. You wrapped your arms around him, physical affection came much easier to you now than it did before the babes. 

Sandor would have been jealous if it weren’t your cousin, so for now he simply groaned under his breath.

Surprised at your affection, “Motherhood agrees with you.” Jon remarked at your much happier demeanor

“I should hope so. After the pain it took to get these splendid creatures out.” You said as you let him go from your embrace.

“I hope the labor was easy?” He said awkwardly. 

“I believe I told the maester to fuck off.” You said as you smiled. 

“I believe it was to ‘Shut the fuck up.’ M’Lady.” Your midwife Eira corrected you as she brought you your daughter. 

“Ah yes, thank you, Eira.” You said as she handed you your girl. “My first born, Eira.” You said, presenting your daughter. Though you noticed Jon’s confused demeanor. “She was the reason I made it through the labor. And with such a lovely name it was hard not to name my girl after her.” 

Jon nodded, he looked upon the babe then back to you. “Tyrion was right, you and hers likeness is uncanny.” 

You shook your head, “She’s too small to know if she truly does.” You were awfully proud of her already. 

“She does.” Sandor said as he continued to pack away your things whilst holding your son. 

“A beauty.” Jon said, “She shall make a man a fine wife someday.” 

Sandor scoffed as he approached Jon, “A wife? She’ll eat men alive.” He too was awfully proud of your daughter already. 

“And this…” You said taking your son from Sandor’s arms, presenting him to your cousin, “This is Jon.”

Jon chuckled at the babe bearing the same name as he, “After your father?” He asked, looking upon the child. 

“And you.” You said softly, “He should be named after a man who was steadfast.” 

He smiled softly looking upon the babe, “He is the spitting image of his father.” 

“Let's hope not.” Sandor grumbled from behind you,

“Stop it.” You said without looking at him.

Jon’s gaze left your child and fell onto you, “We’ve one more war to see through.” He said with a heavy tone. It was clear he meant the attack on Kings Landing. “We would hope you’d stand with us once again."

“My men are yours.” You said placing a hand on Jon’s arm. 

Jon smiled at you. Looked around at the chamber that had become your own now barren. Stripped of all of your possessions. “This is it then?” Jon sighed. 

“I am sure we will meet again.” You spoke softly. 

“We will.” He said with conviction. He then turned to your husband who stood protectively behind you, “Clegane.” He acknowledged with a nod of his head. 

Sandor nodded back, and Jon left your chambers. 

The idea of war hitting Kings Landing tempted Sandor. He would have the opportunity to finally kill his brother, and take the revenge he so desperately wanted. He tried to push the thoughts out of his mind as he continued to pack away your things, though he was unsuccessful. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Before you would leave Winterfell, you insisted on taking one more person along with you.

Eira was not hard to find. She was residing in a small chamber that was attached to the maester’s quarters. As you entered the chamber, you noticed how small it was for a mother of two. A warm room, with a You could smell the smoke of fire licking at the kettle hanging over it. You could see Eira with her back turned tending to her youngest son, no more than a year old. 

“Eira,” You said warmly, announcing your presence. 

Startled, Eira turned around and stood straight as she faced you “M’Lady!”  she gasped.

“I’m sorry to startle you!” You apologized as you approached her. 

She breathed a laugh, “No it's quite alright, can I help you?” she asked.

You smiled, “Yes I suppose you can.” You held your own hand tightly, unsure of how to ask what you were about to ask of her, “Do you have a family here?” 

She shook her head, “Just my boys.” She said motioning towards the two children behind her. A boy no more than a year of age and the other no more than three.

You smiled at the two children staring at you with shy demeanors. “Handsome young men.” Your eyes then fell back onto Eira, “A father?” you proddied her for information, attempting to see how many people she would want with her.

Eira shifted awkwardly, “No, M’lady.” she stepped closer to you, attempting to conceal her words from her children, “I was sold to a pleasure house, young.” 

You narrowed your eyes, “You are young.” 

She shook her head, “I was much younger then. I ran off with my eldest, when I found out I was pregnant with my youngest.” She looked at the boys with love, “I couldn’t raise them there.”

You felt a sting of empathy for the girl, how could you not? She was a girl no more than ten and five, already experienced such horrors. “Would you like to leave the North, live with your children in the Eyrie?” You asked with confidence. Knowing now more than ever that she deserved a new beginning. 

Eira’s eyes went wide, her lips parted. She did not know what to say, it took her a moment before she eventually blurted out, “M’Lady?”

“I mislike male healers and maesters.” You said much more calmly,  “Now that I am Lady of the Vale, I would like for you to learn from the maester and healers of the Vale. Until you’re ready to be the Eyrie’s maester.” 

She stammered for a moment, “Women cannot be maesters-“

“By tradition. Fuck tradition.” You stepped closer to her, “Your boys would be taught well under maesters of great experience, and trained in swordsmanship by the best knights of the Vale. Live in rooms of their own, as will you.” 

“You’re offering a new life, for me and my boys. It’s too generous-“ The girl could not bring herself to feel worthy of the offer you presented to her. 

You took her hand, “I want you to take it, if you want it.” You said firmly.

“Course I want it.” She said with a sharp exhale, in disbelief. 

“Take it then.” You said with a gentle smile as you squeezed her hand gently.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As you walked to board the carriage that would carry you, and your babes. Sandor was busy loading your belongings into the other carriages, and barking at the men to be sure the carriage would be safe for you and his children.

You rolled your eyes at Sandor’s barking as you heard a familiar voice call out. “Cousin.” 

You turned around to see it was… “Sansa.” You said with a relieved sigh. You were worried you’d not see her before you parted.

“I do not wish for you to leave.” She said as she grabbed hold of your hand.

You smiled somberly, “I do not wish to part from you. But my place is not here. It is in the Eyrie.” You leaned in closer, “Where I shall take Littlefinger's head for what he’s done to us.” You whispered for her ears only.

She smirked, “You’ve always been a strong one.” 

“We’ve done some wondrous things together.” You said smiling, “Fed men to dogs.” You jested.

She shook her head, “I’d not been able to do it without you. You’d always been like an older sister to me, when I needed it.” 

“I wasn’t always there.” You said with melancholy eyes. You felt guilt for not being able to protect her for so long. “But we’re women now. We can look after ourselves.” 

“I’m not sure how much you’ll need to look after yourself.” She said as she looked over towards Sandor, she looked back at you “Once this war is finished you must come visit.” 

You smiled at her softly, “I’d like that.” 

She tightened her grip on your hand, then let go. “Go safely, cousin.” With that Sansa finished. Turning around to leave you to your travels. 

As you walked closer to the carriage, a young and handsome northern guard approached you, “My Lady, if I may-” He began extending his hand towards you to help you into the carriage. 

However Sandor interrupted this. “Keep your fucking hands off my wife.” He grumbled, scaring off the man quickly. He gave you his forearm to help you into the carriage.

You sighed, “Sandor.” wishing he would not bark so much. Though he was much more protective now than he ever was. 

“The babes, M’lady, M’lord.” She said as she handed you and your husband two baskets. Each holding one of your children, wrapped in comfortable blankets, ready for the journey. 

You poked your head out of the window of the cabin, “Thank you, Eira. You and your boy's carriage is the one ahead of ours.” You said pointing towards the carriage they would be taking. 

Eira smiled widely, giddy with excitement “Thank you, M’lady.” she said with a quick nod as she went to retrieve her own two boys.

Sandor gently placed your babes within the carriage. He turned towards the driver of the carriage,  “Ride smoothly, or I’ll break both your hands.” He said, warning the man. He’d not have his wife or his children disturbed by a rocky carriage ride.

Sandor then reluctantly climbed into the carriage as well. He preferred to ride on his own horse. It was more comfortable for his large stature. He also felt silly being placed in a carriage, a man like him. But he needed to have his eyes on you and his babes on such a long journey. 

You sighed, “Sandor the man cannot control the road's stability.” You said as you tucked your son into his blanket a bit tighter. 

He watched you tend to your son with love in his eyes, “He’d better try.” 

You smirked, “You show affection in a strange way.” You said as the carriage began to move, rocking gently which soothed your babes, “What will people think of our family?” you sighed. 

He leaned forward, “That you have a man for a husband.” he said, and you smiled at his protectiveness though you tried to conceal it. He leaned back into his seat, biting the cork of his wineskin and pulling it off. “Fuck what they think anyway. I protect my own, thats that, and too fucking bad if you don’t like how I do it.” He grumbled as he took a swig of his wine.

You smirked and breathed a small laugh, “I love you, you fool.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Your arrival at the Eyrie was warm, and cheerful. The smallfolk threw small flower petals onto your carriage at it past the Bloody Gate. Your knights cheered as you stepped out of your carriage. And the maids and servants within the Eyrie rejoiced in your return. The whole thing was horribly uncomfortable for Sandor. A man who hated any attention by large groups of people, especially positive attention. 

As you placed your children within their bassinets in their nursery, you smiled. You felt warm, your home was now your own again. Not only that but your home was filled with your family once again.

You leaned down, leaning over your babes bassinets, “This is your home.” You whispered softly to them as they drifted into sleep. 

“I thought it would be colder.” Sandor remarked as he looked around the elegant room.

You stood and approached Sandor, “It normally is.” 

That was true, normally the Eyrie was. But perhaps it was the love that was brought with you and your children. 

“Hm.” He hummed, 

You looked back towards your babes sleeping in their cradles, “Strange to think we made them.” Sandor looked towards them as well, “So beautiful.” You said gently,

“They got it from you.” He rasped. “Beautiful.” You looked up at him, “But you know it.” He shrugged. 

“I do?” You scoffed. 

“You should.” He said as he cupped your cheek.

You looked at him with love. “I want another child.” you blurted out. 

His eyes went a bit wide, and his eyebrows narrowed, “But you said-“

“I want a litter of them.” You said partially as a jest, but also somewhat serious. You thought of your aunt Cat and envied how many children she bore. You couldn’t imagine how much love and joy would be filled within this palace with your children.

“A litter?” He questioned, 

“Mhm.” You said as you held onto his chest and pressed his lips to your own as you stood on your tiptoes. 

As your lips parted, he rasped “It’ll take a lot of fucking to get that many.”

You nodded, “Mmhmmm.” You kissed him once more before letting go, “Do you wish for more?” you asked earnestly. 

He smirked, “What man wouldn’t want a dozen babes birthed by you?” 

Just as he was about to kiss you once more a handmaiden entered the chamber, “My Lady?” she said cautiously.

“Hm?” You hummed with a slight smile, all too happy. 

The handmaiden held onto her own hand as she approached you, “A Lannister guard delivered a chest.” She spoke with concern. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─

The chest was brought to the High Hall. 

You began to approach it but Sandor placed a hand in front of you, “Don’t come near it.” 

You huffed in frustration but nodded for him to look into it. 

Sandor approached the chest, and opened it cautiously with one hand on the hilt of his sword. But soon as it was open he released his grip on the handle just looking at whatever was in the chest for a moment. 

“Well?” You asked, antsy, to know what it was. 

He waved you over, as you approached it you saw what laid in the chest. Within it was the Hound's helmet. A large helmet in the shape of a snarling dog. And in its mouth was a silver necklace with a pendant of a woman with falcon wings, holding a tear shaped pearl. “What is this?” Sandor asked as he took the necklace in his hand. 

“A necklace Tyrion had made for me. An engagement gift.” It was a valerian steel necklace. A generous gift he presented to you in an attempt to compensate you for your hand in marriage. 

His hand closed into a fist around the necklace, “That fucking imp sent this?” He asked with anger than began to boil 

“No.” You said confidently, Tyrion had no reason to provoke you or Sandor. Nor would he want to. “Cersei did.” You said, piecing together what this all meant. “It’s a threat if she should win the war.”

Sandor groaned under his breath, “Lannister cunts.” He did not like the fact someone would be so bold as to threaten his wife. 

“She won’t win.” You said, attempting to calm him, “She doesn’t have a dragon.”

“But if she does?” He asked lowly. 

You shook your head, “The Eyrie is impregnable.” 

“We fucking impregnated it.” His temper began to slip.

“Only because Littlefinger was a fool. We won’t be so stupid.” You said as your attention was diverted to your breasts began to ache, “I need to feed the babes.” You said, as you walked out of the High Hall. 

The idea of war lingered in Sandors mind. He wanted to fight against the Lannisters, fight against Cersei for sending you a threat. But he could not push the desire to pursue revenge out of his mind. He wanted to hunt Gregor down. But he knew you’d not allow it. 

You never liked him fighting, and now you despised the idea now that you and he had children. Before you’d no power to stop him, but now you did. If you commanded the knights of the Vale to not allow him passage through the Bloody Gate, he would be trapped. 

So, for now he would need to push his fantasies of revenge out of his mind, 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Sandor entered your chambers for the first time. He looked upon the room with narrow eyes. He looked at your possessions new and old. How he wished he had found you earlier, perhaps none of what happened to you would have. He felt out of place in such an extravagant castle, but he felt more at home here. It felt like you.

He threw the helmet down in the corner of the room, as he sat on your bed and removed his leather overcoat.

A maid entered the chambers holding a number of your gowns that you’d brought with you from Winterfell. She was somewhat surprised to see Sandor in your chambers, “My Lord?” She asked cautiously. 

Sandor looked over his shoulder, “What?” He asked with narrowed brows. Confused as to why someone would be bothering him.

She stammered before spitting out, “Shall I fetch the Lady?” 

Sandor raised his brow, “Why?” he questioned, concerned something was wrong with you.

“Well- my Lord you are in the Lady’s chamber.” Though it was true after a Lady and Lord were married for some time, and had children, they would often sleep separately. Only sleeping together for the purposes of creating more children. Sandor rolled his eyes at the girls assumption, “Your chamber is down the-“

Sandor turned back around as he grumbled, “Me and my wife share a bed.” 

“But-“ She attempted to continue, 

“Fuck off.” He grumbled under his breath. Not knowing that you had just entered the chamber as well.

You sighed, “Never mind him.” You smiled at the girl as you took the gowns in her hand. You nodded to her signaling she was dismissed. As the girl closed the door you turned to Sandor. “Must you snap at everyone?” You sighed. 

“Don’t like cunts sticking their noses where they don’t belong.” He rasped as he continued to remove bits of his other clothing, he looked behind him at you, noticing you did not have your babes. “Where’s the children?” he questioned. 

You smiled, you appreciated how invested he was. “With Eira. She said I needed rest.” You said as you began to hang your gowns in your wardrobe. As you did, you noticed a white gown, simple and plain. It was the one you wore on your wedding, as you looked at it you thought about your wedding. “Could you imagine if we’d had a traditional wedding?”

“Didn’t we?” Sandor huffed.

You shrugged, “Traditional of noble houses, I suppose. You’ve been to many as a guard.” You said turning to look at him, “I remember Loras wanted a large and extravagant one with a tournament.” Sandor looked at you with jealous eyes, “You cannot be jealous of an engagement made out of survival with a man who would never touch me.” You sighed.

“I know. I saved him for you didn’t I?”  Sandor did not understand your friendship with Loras, but he knew it was important to you and that was enough for him to care.

You thought about Loras, and then of Sandor, “You and he were quite different.”

“Aye, he sucked co-”

“Alright.” You said waving your hand at him to stop speaking. 

As you continued to riffle through your dresses, the thought did not leave you. What if you did have such a public and traditional wedding. You thought of you in a much more grand gown, one of ivory silk and a veil made of a sheer and glimmering fabric. But the thought of Sandor being put on such a public display. The thought made you snicker, 

“What?” Sandor asked as he threw off his boots.

“Just,” You tried to hold in your laughter but could not, “The thought of you at an extravagant wedding-wearing the finest silks-” You could not help but laugh openly.

“Are you laughing at me?” Sandor asked with a furrowed brow. He hid his own smile with his signature scowl, happy just to see you laughing.

You closed your wardrobe as you continued, “Oh and our dance! How gracefully you would dance about the banquet halls!” You continued to laugh. 

“Keep mocking me, woman, see where it lands you.” 

“Where?” You asked with a mischievous grin and a raised eyebrow. 

“On your knees.” He groaned, his temptation growing. 

“Oh, you’re moving onto the bedding ceremony?” You said in a teasing tone as you walked over towards him with your eyes trailing over his body. It had been so long since you’d felt desirable. Sandor was more affectionate than ever. Holding you as you slept, being sure you held onto his arm as you walked anywhere no matter how close. He made sure you ate well, and he made certain your babes were never far. However you wanted to feel desired.

You ran your hands over his shoulders, helping him pull his tunic over his head “You think I’d allow for a fucking bedding ceramony?” You teased. Sandor grabbed you by your waist, manhandling you as he threw you onto the bed, and climbed on top of you.

You giggled and squirmed a bit but were pinned in place by Sandors weight, “Where is your respect for tradition?” You teased with a smirk on your face feeling him tense above you. 

“In the seventh hell.” He rasped his face just inches from yours, “I’d kill any cock sucking rat who even thought of it.” His voice was deep and dark. Violent. 

“My brave and loyal husband.” You said in a whisper as your arms wrapped around his neck. 

“Hmmmm…” He groaned under your touch, he could feel his length hardening. Though he tried his best to ignore it. You needed to recover after giving him two children. And he would not give into his temptation and risk harming you.

You however, felt like teasing him, “You don’t like the idea? Tens of men grabbing me, ripping my clothes off, calling out vulgarities-” You said with a smirk, knowing your words would only heat his blood.

“You want me angry?” He interrupted you, as he asked you with a furrowed brow. Unsure of what it was you were trying to accomplish with such a question. Especially to him, the one man who’d kill another man for wanting you. 

You ran your hand down his neck, “You fuck harder angry.” You said as your legs came to lock around his waist, and your lips found his neck. But as soon as you began he pulled away, throwing himself off the bed and stomping off to the other side of the room. You propped yourself up by your elbows. “Husband?” 

“Fucking hells-You can’t look at me like that-touch me like that.” He groaned in frustration. 

“Why not, is there another woman?” You said in a jest. Though in truth you were somewhat concerned about your new body and how he would think of it. 

He shook his head, “You’ll drive a man mad.” He said out of breath, “I’m already going mad. I can’t fuck you-can’t even taste you.” He said as though the words were pent up. He’d been wishing to say them for so long now. 

You began to undo your dresses ties, allowing the fabric to sag around your shoulders, “I want you to fuck me, to taste me-“ 

“I can’t.” He interrupted you and turned away from you, knowing your words would only tempt him. “I won’t hurt you.” He rasped. 

“Sandor.” You called out to him in a sultry tone. 

“Shit-“ He hissed, “Woman don’t call my name like that.” He felt his cock straining against his breeches, “I can’t hurt you. I’d rather die.” He said with his fists tightening. 

You rolled your eyes at him, “Would you listen to your wife? The maester said I’m well enough now to perform my ‘duties’.” Sandor turned back around to look at you, his eyes were nearly black, “So did Eira.” You further supported your claim. 

“You mean it?” He rasped, his voice low and deep. You nodded in return, making Sandor march over towards you whilst he discarded his tunic over his head, “You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow.” He said pushing you back down onto the bed. He climbed on top of you, his hands ravaged your body. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist once again. And his mouth found its place on your neck, and soon your sternum. Whilst his hands gripped hold of whatever they could through your dress. 

“Fuck.” You moaned, “I missed your hands on me so terribly.” You said with closed eyes as your words were drawing out slowly. Your nails gripped onto his strong back. 

Suddenly he pulled his mouth from your neck, loosened his grip. He pushed himself off of you, his eyes wide. He pulled you off the bed, making you stand in front of him before he laid back onto it. Propping himself up on his elbows to watch you, “Strip for me.” He commanded, his voice was deep and husky. 

You stood there, somewhat uncomfortable. You felt red heat slash across your cheeks, “Sandor-“

“Never mind any of that shit you think about your body.” He groaned, pulling his breeches and small clothes down with one swift movement, you didn’t hide your gaze as you looked at his hard thick cock. Red and already glisting with precum, “Fuck, I’ve been going mad without it.” You were unable to move as you felt heat begin to pool in your core, “Do you want me to beg is that it?” Sandor groaned, “Please,” He said as he gripped onto his cock stroking it slowly, “Please… I’m going fucking mad..” He groaned almost pathetically. 

You wanted to feel desired, and Sandor more than satisfied that want. 

Your gown was hanging around your shoulders, the laces were halfway done already. You began to undo them slowly. You turned away from him and looked at him over your shoulder as you slipped the gown lower and lower. He groaned in pleasure watching you. As your gown dropped, fabric pooling around your feet, leaving you in a shift. You turned back to him as you pulled the shift over your head. Leaving you in your thigh stockings. 

Sandor continued to groan as you stepped towards him, now both of you naked and wanting. You placed your foot on his inner thigh, making his hiss. Then you pulled the ribbon from around your thigh, then rolling your stocking down your legs. “Seven fucking hells, woman.” He groaned as you continued to do the same with your other stocking. 

You grabbed hold of his wrist, making him release his grip on his cock, “Hands off what's mine.” You commanded him, and though surprised by your sudden confidence, he felt his cock twitch under your authority. He smirked up at you as you straddled him.  

“Do not be gentle with me.” You commanded firmly, pulling his hair back, making him look up at you.

“Don’t know if I could be.” He nearly panted, cunt struck and in awe of you.

One of his hands wrapped around your throat, and the other gripped roughly onto your hip. In one swift movement he flipped you onto your back, his hand still around your throat. “Open your mouth.” He rasped, his voice heavy with lust. 

You did as he asked, sticking your tongue out as you looked up at him with an equally lustful gaze. His grip on your throat tightened as he spit into your mouth. It felt filthy and degraded, and you loved it. 

“Swallow it.” He rasped, and once again you obeyed happily. He groaned at the sight, his grip on your throat tightened for just a moment making you gasp. “I’m going to take my time with you.” His thumb rubbed up and down your throat roughly. “Been denied of what I need for too long.” 

He hesitated for a moment. As if he were waiting for your say so. You nodded slowly, your eyes fixated on his face. His mind was overtaken by his lust and his face gave it away. His eyes were nearly black and he couldn’t stop biting his lip. “I want it.” You whined. 

And with that, Sandor pushed you back against the mattress. He pinned your hips down by locking his around them. The hot air of his breath hit your bare cunt, making you shutter. It has been so long since you’d felt it, you instinctively closed your thighs but Sandor only needed one hand to pry them open with ease.  

“I told you-” He rasped as he bit your inner thigh making you squeal “I’m going to take my time.” He finished as he spit on your cunt making you jump. He wasted no time lapping at your folds as if he were starved. 

He pushed his face as closely to your cunt as he could, hardly able to breathe. His tongue spent so much time on your clit. Sucking on it and watching your reaction to it. Sandor then bit down on it, not hard, but enough to make you gasp and grab ahold of his hair roughly. You looked down at him with shock, 

“Again.” You commanded and he happily obeyed. Sucking on your clit, soothing it before he bit down again, a cycle he repeated until he felt your release coming. The sounds of your moans hit the stone walls of your chamber in a way that made Sandor’s cock harden. 

Your moans only encouraged him. He began to fuck you with his tongue, letting his nose do the work on your clit. He wanted- no he needed to take your release in his mouth. He needed it. 

He let out a moan as he felt it reach his tongue. He drank you in with the hunger of a starved man. 

He continued to lick you through your climax, but soon you realized he did not stop. You felt yourself becoming more and more sensitive as his attention went back to your clit. Perhaps he did not know you finished? He always knew when you were finished, he knew your body and its language better than you did. But perhaps he did not know. “I finished-” You whined, pulling on his hair. 

“I’m not.” He groaned into your cunt. The vibration of his voice made you arch your back and push yourself further into his mouth.  

“Sandor!” You moaned out, “I-I-I” You stammered, unable to speak. You were so sensitive, so overstimulated, you could not think, it was blissful. 

He couldn’t help himself. He missed your taste more than he missed anything. It was as if you tasted of the finest and rarest of wines. “You can take it, fuck, give me another.” He moaned as he sucked on your clit again. His eyes not leaving your face as you began to shake and shutter. So sensitive and beautiful. It was not long before he was drinking in another release of your own. As you laid panting on the mattress he finally lifted his face from between your legs. “Gods, you’re fucking perfect.” He said with a kiss to your lower stomach. 

“Come here.” You whined breathlessly, as you raised a weak arm towards him. He obeyed his lovely wife. Climbing above you. You kissed him, tasting yourself so clearly on his tongue. You pulled him off of your mouth by pulling his hair, he groaned at its absence, “Not nice to keep me waiting, after I have been aching for you for so long.” you said as you panted. 

He chuckled lowly, “That’s cause I’m not nice, girl.”

You looked into his eyes, “You are nice to me.” He pulled himself down despite your grip on his hair. Crashing his mouth into yours again. 

He felt you beginning to grind yourself into his hardened length. And your hands began to weakly paw at his back. He pressed his forehead against your own, “Don’t you worry, I’m going to fuck your cunt. Can’t let it forget who it belongs to.” He began to slide his cock against your wet cunt. Covered in your release and his own spite. He let out a groan at the feeling. 

You placed a hand against his shoulder, “I might not feel the same.” You said worried he’d not enjoy you the same as he did before. 

“Don’t care.” He said as he bit your neck, making you moan. 

Your eyes fell upon the metal helmet in the room. You remembered how you’d watch Sandor fight in tourneys and battles, wearing the helmet. You had imagined him fucking you in it countless times, and now you’d the chance. 

“Wear the helmet.” You whispered. 

Sandor’s face abandoned your neck, and he looked at you confused, “What?”

You brushed his hair behind his ear as you explained softly, “In King's Landing. I watched you fight in that helmet, tourney after tourney. I watched you swing steel in metal armor. I couldn’t help but squeeze my thighs together as I sat watching you exhibit your strength.” You smirked at your own defiant behavior, “I would go to my chambers, and dig my fingers into my cunt. Thinking of how I wanted you to rip my skirts and fuck me good and hard. Wearing your helmet.”

Sandor stared at you for a moment before a smirk appeared on his face. “Filthy fucking thing you are.” He said lowly. 

“You like it.” You said stubbornly. It drove him wild. 

“I love it.” He gave your cheek a sloppy kiss as he pushed himself off of you and walked towards the helmet that laid on the ground. He looked at it for a moment. Thinking of the times he’d worn it before. But as he looked at you sprawled naked on your bed smiling at him with flushed cheeks, he eagerly placed it onto his head. 

He approached you, the Hound. You sat up, looking up at him. You could hear his breathing through the helmet. He grabbed you by your jaw, and presented his hand towards your mouth, “Spit.” he commanded gruffly. You did as he asked, spitting into his hand. He used your spit to stroke his cock, the sight made you bite your lip and moan. “On your hands and knees.” He commanded as his hand went to your hip, flipping you onto your stomach. It made your cheeks even redder. 

He landed a hard spank onto your ass, making you hiss and whine. Fuck you loved it. You pushed yourself up on your knees, presenting your ass to him. He landed another few good hard spanks before he began to position his cock against your slick entrance. 

You looked back at him, fuck the sight was something you’d fantasized of for so long. It was enough to make you clench. “Please, Ser.” You whined, it made Sandor’s cock throb harder than it did before. He wasted no time, he plunged into you. 

You moaned loudly and buried your face into the mattress below you, gripping onto the blankets roughly. 

“Fucking-” Sandor hissed, his thrusts did not relent. He was fucking you as if he would never fuck you again, “Gods, you fe-feel so fucking good“ He gripped onto your hips so tightly, you knew you’d be bruised by the time he finished. He grabbed hold of the nape of your neck and pulled you flush against his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your throat tightly. You held his bicep that tightly held your throat. Whilst the other wrapped across your body, keeping you still. You nails dug into his bicep as it chokes you ever so gently, he’d flex his muscles to make the choke harder when he wanted your cunt to clench around him. His moans intertwined with your own, “Missed this cunt so fucking much.” He groaned as he continued to rut into you like an animal. “Ah!” He hissed, your cunt was spasming and clenching, sucking his cock further and further inside. “Greedy cunt keeps pulling me in-” He moaned, he hadn’t felt this ecstasy in so long. “Gonna fucking fill this greedy cunt til it’s spilling out of you.” The thought made him behind spirt small bits of his release no matter how hard he tried to wait and hold it in. “Give you another child?” His voice was softer. You looked up at him with surprise as you pulled the helmet off of him, now desperate to see his face. He did not have a face of lust now but of love. You nodded, as you felt your cunt creaming around his cock, he felt it too. “Yeah?” He groaned as he felt the ring you were leaving around his cock form. 

That was what done him in. He pulsed in you and you felt the heat spread throughout your core. It must have been more than he’d ever released before you thought. It was already spilling out of you and down his cock as he slowly rutted in you and rode out both of your highs. 

Once he was done, his grip on you loosened and you laid yourself onto your bed. You dropped your weight onto it. Making your hair fall into your face as you panted. 

“You alright?” He asked as he brushed the hair from your face. 

You smiled up at him, “I’m perfect.” you said breathlessly. 

He chuckled lowly, and nodded “Aye, you are.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─

As you were laid in your bed, naked and spent. You watched your husband with loving eyes as he drank from a leather wine bottle. He noticed your lascivious gaze on him as he handed you the bottle. You took a swig only to be met with a bitter and ugly taste. Your face scrunched up as you handed it back to him. 

Sandor chuckled lowly, amused at your reaction, “It’s shit huh?” 

“I like my wine sweet is all.” You said attempting to remain polite. But Sandor gave you a knowing gaze, “Yes it’s shit.” You admitted. “I had always wondered about the taverns in the city. when in Kings Landing- I sometimes wondered on disguising myself and walking the streets to see the city.”

“That’s because you never been to the streets of silk.” He said as he placed his bottle of wine on table by his bedside.

“Should I venture into it?” You asked in a teasing tone, and a slight smirk.

“It’s no place for you.” He said, just the thought of you there made his heart beat faster. You being that close to such vile characters. “Men fuck whores in the streets like dogs.” 

You listened to his words carefully, “Funny how there is not such a vulgar word for such men. They are just men. But perhaps men are vulgar enough.”

“You’re a strange kind of woman.” Sandor said with a slight grin.

“You’ve only now realized that?” You asked him with a raised brow,

He chuckled lowly, “No, always knew it.” His arms came around you, pulling you in close into his side. You rested your head into the crook of his neck as your hand roamed his broad and hairy chest. 

You thought about his words for a moment, “Men fuck women in the streets like dogs you say?”

“Aye?” He rasped, confused as to what you were going to say.

“Have you?” You asked, your curiosity getting the better of you, “Fucked another woman?”

“I’d never betray you-“ He began gruffly,

“Before me I mean.” You interrupted, “It’s a foolish thing to ask. Of course you’ve laid with other women. You don’t fuck like you’d never fucked a woman. You never striked me as a man who valued his chastity.” You clarified as your fingers still ran across his chest.

He thought for a moment about refusing to answer you, but he couldn’t. His arm held you closer to him, his hand rubbing your back gently. “Aye.” He rasped, not proud that he’d paid whores during his time in King's Landing.

“What were they like?” You asked, devoid of any jealousy. You simply wanted to know how he was with them, was he the same to you as them? What was it about them that he liked?

Sandor shook his head, not knowing really what to say. “A means to an end.” He grumbled, “There weren’t many. Did it from behind, quickly. Threw the coin on the table and left. That was all.” He said quickly. Not wanting to think of those times. Before you there was no love, no real desire. It mattered not. He took your chin and made you look at him, “Then you came. And all that changed.” 

You rested your chin on his chest, “When Baelish kissed me,” You could feel Sandors anger rise as he shifted uncomfortably and groaned, rumbling in his chest. “I thought of you.” You said earnestly, running your hand over his broad chest, “Of how you’d kill him for it. But I also thought of how different it was. I hated it. How even though lips are only lips, it did not feel the same. I never want to be without your kiss.” You said softly as you ran your thumb over his lips.

“We’re going to fucking kill him.” He rasped as he took hold of your jaw.

“Mhmm.” You hummed into his mouth, as you pulled away you locked eyes with him. “But first-I’m hungry again.” You whined as you rubbed the tip of your nose against his. Your hand running down his hairy chest and stomach. Your fingertips gently traced circled on his pelvis. Making his breath hitch. “In this bed there are no trials to commence and no wars to be fought. Just us.” You whispered into his lips as your hand traveled lower, you gripped a hold of his cock, still wet from your slick mixed with his own release. He groaned lowly and you felt his cock twitch in your hand. “Feels like you’ve a bit left in you.” You said with a mischievous grin. Making Sandor groan as his mouth took yours.

So much for rest. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Though sadly you could not stay hidden in your chambers with your husband’s cock buried inside of you. You had other matters to attend to.

You walked with your husband and the cell keeper as you made your way to the sky cell that held Littlefinger. Sandor was the first to open the cell, smirking at the sight of the dissolved and dirty Baelish, “Ah, the dog.” Baelish remarked seeing Sandor.

His eyes then moved towards you as you stepped into the doorway, “I am Lady Paramount of all Houses within the Vale. You will address the Lord Paramount consort with respect.” You nearly hissed as you spoke to him with narrowed eyes.

Baelish grinned at your anger, “Twins I hear. A boy and a girl.” He said feigning glee, until his facade of joy dropped, “However shall you choose will inherit after you?” He said in an attempt to mock you.

“My daughter was born first. She is the heir.” You answered quickly, without wavering.

He scoffed at your answer, “Do you think your son will bend a knee to her? When he is of age, as big as the hound himself.” He said as he looked at your husband behind you.

“Talk about my children again and I’ll rip your throat out.” Sandor growled. 

Baelish smirked and snickered to himself.

“Your trial will be held tonight. If I were you, I would throw myself from this cell.” You said apathetically. 

He shook his head, “That is a coward's way out.”

“Yes it is.” You responded quickly. Sandor lowly chuckled at your insult as he closed the cell. 

As you and he walked back through the cells, Sandor felt the need to advise you. “He’ll deny the charges.” 

You shook your head, “I’ve a witness.” You said confidently. “Someone who is witness to all.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You had long anticipated this moment. As you ascended the stairs up to the throne of the Eyrie. A throne carved of weirwood, a throne you always pictured yourself sitting on. As you sat on the throne, you gripped the chair tightly as if it were a dream that would slip away. 

Sandor stood by your side as your sworn shield. You sat wearing a grayish blue gown, the sleeves were long and draped like wings. And you wore silver rings that sat around your fingertips and over your nails. They were sharp and resembled talons. You sat the throne, not just the Lady of the Vale, but the Falcon.

You nodded to your knights who pulled Baelish into the room in a manner that could be described as anything but gentle. As Baelish stood in front of the open moon doors, he looked up at you with anger. “You stand accused of murder, you stand accused of treason. How do you answer these charges?” You questioned with hard eyes.

“Innocent.” He proclaimed loudly.

“Innocent of a crime I witnessed? You murdered our aunt, Lysa Arryn. Pushing her through that Moon Door as you stood right there as you are now. And watched her fall. Do you deny it?” You questioned devoid of any emotion.

“I did it to protect you.” He huffed. 

“You did it to gain control of me. Gain ultimate control within the Vale.” You said rebuking his claim, “You aided in the murder of my father, Jon Arryn. You gave Lysa Tears of Lys to poison him. Do you deny this?” Your voice was slightly deeper.

He shook his head, “Whatever Lysa spoke to you, in a heated moment of anger… She was a troubled woman. Imagining enemies everywhere, even imagining you as one of them.”

You ignored his shallow attempt of a rebuttal. “You had Lysa send a letter to the Lord and Lady Stark claiming it was the Lannisters that killed my father. You began the rift between the North and the Crown. Do you deny it?” You continued to press. 

“I know of no such letter.” 

“You conspired with Cersei Lannister and Joffrey Baratheon to betray my uncle, Ned Stark. Resulting in his imprisonment and later his execution. Do you deny it?”

“I deny it! None of you were there to see what happened. None of you know the truth.”

“You held a knife to his throat.” A voice beckoned from the back of the room. Littlefinger was shocked as he saw your cousin, Bran. Accompanied by your cousin Arya. “You said, “I did warn you not to trust me.” Bran said stoically.

Arya presented the knife used to attack Bran when he was a child, “You told our mother this knife belonged to Tyrion Lannister.” She sheathed the knife, “But that was another lie. It was yours.”

Knowing he was not going to leave that room by denying claims that were confirmed by so many witnesses. Baelish got on his knees, making Sandor smirk. “Lady Arryn, I have known you since you were a girl. I throw myself to your mercy. The mercy of a mother, a woman with a gentle heart.” He begged. 

You contemplated it for a moment. “Confess your crimes and you shall not fall from the moon doors alive.” You said sternly, and he nodded. “Did you conspire to poison Jon Arryn?” 

“I did.” He said looking down in shame.

“Did you throw Lysa Arryn into the moon doors?” your voice raised and hardened. 

“I did.” 

“Did you influence Lysa into sending the Starks false allegations against the Lannisters. And conspired the execution of Eddard Stark?” Your voice filled with venom.

“I did.” 

Your eyes narrowed, “I cannot balance the scales of suffering. Eyes for eyes, teeth for teeth, Father for a Father, A brother for a brother. You cannot make right what you’ve taken.” 

He shook his head “I have nothing, I want for nothing.” You looked upon him with annoyance, “You crawled out of so many pits that should have been your graves. Not for hope, not because you had faith in yourself. But because you had hatred in your heart. I am the reason you sit the throne as you do now.” He was truly grasping at anything he could. Attempting to gain any favor he could. 

You looked upon him with no sympathy of any kind, “No, I am the reason.” 

He got onto his knees, “I beg of you-”

“Stop talking. I have heard enough of your words.” You announced as if you were bored. You sat up straighter in your throne, looking down on the man on his knees. “You usurped my birthright and were met with no challenge because I am a woman.” Your statement sucked the air from the room. It was true, none of the Lords or Ladies there raised any challenge to the taking of your throne. “My daughter, Eira. Will inherit after me. If I allow mercy towards this crime I set forth an example that may cost my daughter her place on this throne, perhaps her life.” You leaned forward, your eyes narrowed, “I won’t have that. So I shan't grant you mercy. Not that I would consider it otherwise.” You leaned back, “You visited acts of cruelty towards the Houses of the Vale, and its smallfolk. Deliberate starvation.” Murmurs raised in the room, Lords and Ladies outraged by his actions. Though the room fell silent as you spoke again, “There is only one answer for the crimes visited upon your neighbors, and upon the realm.” You stood from your throne, “I, Lady Arryn, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon, Lady of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale, Warden of the East, I sentence you to die.” Baelish began to whimper and beg once again to which you spoke, “I believe I made my terms quite clear before our battle, and let it be known I am not a Lady who does not fulfill her promises. I’ll have your head.” Your proud husband by your side held a sheathed sword towards you. You took the handle and pulled it out, “By my own hand.”

You held the sword tightly in hand as you made your way down the stairs of your throne. The knights held Baelish in place. Sandor walked closely behind you. Once you reached Baelish, Sandor replaced the two knights that held Baelish down on his knees. 

He continued to beg, “I loved your aunt Cat, I loved your mother-” 

You held your sword high, “And yet they are dead.”

“I loved you.” 

SHING

You felt the sword slice through his neck with ease and you felt the heat of his blood as bits of it splattered your gown and your skin. And with that, you fulfilled your promise. Little Fingers head rolled, falling through the Moon Doors.

You huffed, and handed Sandor the sword. He looked at you with sympathetic eyes. He knew how long you had wanted this. He looked at you as you stared down at the bloody sight before you with apathy. He hoped you felt the relief you so desperately reached for. “Throw the rest of him through the doors.” You commanded your men.

A knight, hesitated, “My Lady, you said if he confessed-”

“He’d not fall alive.” You said, finally looking away from Littlefinger's decapitated body, “Does he look alive?” You questioned as you walked away.

Sandor stepped closer towards the Knight, “Do as your Lady commands.” he rasped before he followed after you.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

That night, Sandor couldn’t sleep. He knew that the war was approaching. He knew this might be the only chance he would have to take his revenge. 

He watched you as you slept in your warm bed. Taking in the features of your face. As if it might be the last time he’d ever see you. Sandor laid a soft kiss upon your temple and left your chambers. 

He walked the dark halls of the Eyrie. Contemplating whether or not he should go against his better judgment and flee in the night to join in the war. He knew it would hurt you, but he couldn’t push his desire for revenge away. 

As he paced the halls, he ran into a familiar girl. Arya. The girl was dressed and holding the hilt of her sword tightly. 

“Fuck are you doing?” Sandor grumbled, feigning annoyance by the girl's presence. 

“What are you doing?” She questioned back.

“Asked you first.” 

She hesitated for a moment before she began, “I’m leaving for Kings Landing.” 

He chuckled lowly, “A lotta names on your little list there.” 

She did not share his amusement. “One that's on yours is there.” She said stoically.

Sandors smile faded fast. “Aye.” he grumbled.

Arya’s expression turned to one of sadness, “I couldn’t tell her.” he understood, because neither could you. She looked at Sandor, “Do you want to come with me?”

Sandor thought of it for a moment, before he rasped “Let me see to my children.” 

She nodded, “Meet me in the High Hall.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

You woke to an empty bed. It was very late, or perhaps very early, you could not tell. You rubbed your eyes, not able to make yourself fall back asleep with Sandor, you pushed yourself out of bed. As you walked the halls, you came upon your babes nursery. You noticed the door was left open. Concerned, you rushed towards your room, but you heard a familiar voice. You peered into the room to see your husband kneeling by your son's cradle. 

Sandor's voice was gentle and soft, “Be a better man than your father, your uncle, your grandfather. And be good to your mother-” 

You stepped into the room, “What are you doing?” you asked with narrowed eyes.

Sandor stood, looking at you with pity that made you want to vomit. “I’ll be back.” He rasped.

You knew what he meant, you stepped towards him, “My men will fight this war. My man will not.”  

“I will.” He asserted.

You scoffed, “What do you care of this war?” 

“My brother is there.” His voice was darker.

“And he shall fall with the rest of them.” Your anger rose in your chest as you realized he was planning on leaving you without speaking to you.

He leaned into you, “I want to be the one to do it.”

You looked up at him with angry eyes, “No.” you asserted firmly.

“Damn it woman.” He hissed, though trying to keep his voice low on account of your sleeping children.

You looked at him with anger, a look he was not accustomed to. “You have insisted I stay away from battles, stayed away from my own enemies. And I did. Because I remembered the pain you felt when we were separated. Dead to one another. I did not want that for you. And yet you are blinded by your own selfish desires of revenge.” 

“And you did not pursue your own?” He spat his words at you. 

You knew he was right. But that was before you’d children, before your life was of consequence. But you shifted your argument, “I have seen you and he fight. When you fought for Loras.” You shook your head, “It is too even. The fight would take you both and you know it!” You whispered a shout.

His eyes were wide, he was frustrated by your inability to understand, “The things he’s done- Murdering babes! Raping women and girls!”

“And pressed an innocent child’s cheek into a fire over a discarded toy.” You looked at him with sympathy, “I can see what motivates you. It will not heal you-“

“It’ll feel good.” He rasped lowly.

“It would.” You said with a nod, “But that is all. A moment of happiness. But the pain stays. It stays all the same.” You rolled up your sleeve, “Look,” you presented the scar on your forearm. “My scars have not faded. My family is still gone. Your scar will not fade and your father, mother, and siblings will not return to you. But Sandor we’ve made our own family.” You said, attempting to smile, and point his attention towards the babes in their cradle. 

He shook his head, “He won’t be able to kill again. Rape again.” He looked up at you, “I could kill him.”

You placed your hands on his chest, as if you were pleading with him, “You are the strongest man in the seven kingdoms. But even still, it is too great of a risk.” You furrowed your brows, “If I could take the pain from you I would. If I could hold Gregor in chains and hold in your hand a sword to do as you wish I would grant you that. But my love, I cannot.” You felt yourself on the verge of tears, a sight Sandor hated. “Drinking, eating, and fucking. Peace. That’s how you said you wished to live out our days here. That is what you said you wanted.” 

“I do.” He said softly.

“You swore to protect us.” Your tears finally came.

“I will.” He insisted softly.

You shook your head, “You won’t.” You looked towards your son, “When I look at that boy, I think of you. I think of you as a little boy, young and kind. Who does not yet see the world with such disdain. One who needs his father to be better than his grandfather. Who needs his father here.” You looked back to him, he spoke no words. You felt so betrayed, you scoffed with tears falling from your cheeks, “Go then.” 

You heard the sounds of your son fussing in his crib, you turned from Sandor and approached the babe. 

Sandor stood there, watching you from the corner of his eye. He did not think of himself as a good man, and he did not take pride in himself. But in that moment, he never felt such hatred for himself.

He looked over at you. You sang quietly and sweetly to the babe in your arms as you rocked him. He thought of how in Kings Landing he used to fantasize of having you in a wooden house, with a babe in your arms just as you did now. He thought of all the things Gregor took from him. His face, his innocence, his faith, his belief in good, his belief in chivalry, but now he threatened to take this sight before him. Gregor threatened to take away his ability to see his children grow. Threatened to take his life with you. 

Sandor approached you, but you only looked at him with teary and angry eyes. “Alright.” he rasped as he dropped to his knees, “I’m sorry.” His hands took place on your hips as he practically begged you. “I’m sorry.” He said into your skirts. 

You only held your son tighter. Refusing to look at him. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ 

However, Sandor did meet Arya in the High Hall. 

He took Arya by the shoulder, “When you find my brother. I want his head.” He said before finally leaving the High Hall.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Days passed, though your anger subsided for what Sandor had attempted to do. You had been cold and distant from him. It was not something Sandor was familiar with when it came to you. He did not enjoy it at all. 

He spent his days attempting to make it up to you. His attempts however were rebuffed. You did not allow him to do more than kiss you. You couldn’t help it really. You wanted to forgive him but felt as though you couldn’t.  

As you read a book within your chambers, Sandor parallel to you. He simply stared at you, as if he were trying to solve a riddle before him. You noticed it but did not want to give it any attention. Sandor's frustration grew as he could not tell what he needed to do to make you favor him again. But he would be interrupted by Eira entering the chamber with a parchment.

“A raven from Lord Tyrion.” She said as she handed you the letter.

Sandor groaned in annoyance, “Fucking hells, even up here he wants your ear.” 

Your stoic expression broke, as you read the news. The crime that Jon Snow had committed. “Seven hells.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

In the old dragon pit, you and the other highest Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms were gathered. You sat beside Sandor who you still were holding to a cold shoulder as a member of the Dragon queens unsullied known as Greyworm brought forth Tyrion Lannister in chains. He explained what had happened, and expressed his intentions of killing Jon Snow for his crimes.

“Jon Snow cannot go free.” Greyworm announced. 

“It is not for you to decide.” Lord Tyrion.

“You are not here to speak! We are tired of your words.” Greyworm spoke angrily. 

Tyrion nodded, shamefully. “You are right. But it is not for you to decide. His fate is to be decided by our king… or queen.” 

“We don’t have a king or queen.” some Lord said, you didn’t know his name or his face nor did you care to.

Tyrion scoffed a laugh, “You are the most powerful people in Westeros. Choose one.”

“I suppose you want it.” Ser Davos remarked.

Tyrion's eyes went wide, “Me? The Imp? Half the people hate me for serving Daenerys, the other half hates me for betraying her. Can't think of a worse choice.” Tyrion said, shaking his head. 

“Who, then?” Sansa asked,

“This realm needs unity. It is not an easy thing to unite people.” Tyrion said in contemplation,  then as his mind landed on the person he believed in. He began, “Who among us has united North, the Riverlands, and East. A girl who was orphaned in the den of lions, a girl who escaped every trap set in her way, a girl who with no money gained her own army, a girl who fought in war, a girl who conquered the Eyrie, a girl who sought justice by her own hand when the realm did not offer it. A girl like that would be steadfast, and wise beyond her years. She’d be kind, and thoughtful of her people to inspire such loyalty. Well then she should be the woman who sits on the throne.” His eyes fell onto you.

Sandor looked at you, unsure of what you would say. 

You narrowed your brows, “I don’t want it.” 

“No one does.” Tyrion scoffed a laugh.

“I won’t take it.” You shook your head, “I want no power greater than what I have been given by birth. I no longer care for myself, care of any desire or ambitions that once drove me. I only care for my children. I only care for my husband. I only care for my family.” You spoke confidently.

Sandor was in disbelief. You were offered power and wealth beyond anything you’d ever had. And yet you so quickly refused it.

With a nod, Tyrion spoke again, “What of the three eyed raven? He is our memory, the keeper of all our stories. The wars, weddings, births, massacres, families. He crossed beyond the wall a crippled boy, and came back the three eyed raven. He knows our past better than anyone. He could lead us into the future.”

And with that Bran the Broken was instilled at the new King of the Six Kingdoms, and Sansa became Queen of the North. 

“You refused the crown?” Sandor asked as he leaned towards you. Unsure as to why you had done it.

You looked at him with your cold eyes, “I meant what I said. I have no desires or ambitions beyond my children.” It was a slight at his attempt to leave your children to pursue revenge. A slight that he understood and one that he knew he deserved. 

As you continued on he watched you walk on as he heard that familiar voice again,

“Sandor.” Arya said as she approached him. Sandor hummed at her, “The tower fell before I could reach Cersei, or Gregor.” She shook her head, upset with her failed attempt, “Couldn’t get his head, but I got this.” She said as she presented Gregor's helmet covered in blood.

Sandor looked at it, he found little joy in it, and little relief. He shook his head, “Get rid of it.” He rasped as he turned to return to your side.

Arya looked at him as he walked away in confusion.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As you laid in a steaming bath, your handmaidens washed your body. One cleaning your nails and another cleaning your hair. You normally would have insisted on doing it yourself, but after your travels back from Kings Landing you were simply too exhausted to do it. 

Suddenly however, the door to your bathing chamber swung open. Your ladies attempted to use their own bodies to shield the view of your naked form. However they relaxed once they saw the man who hunched down to get through the doorway was in fact the lord consort, Sandor.

“Out…” Sandor commanded, and all the ladies wasted no time in dropping their scrubbing clothes into the water as they fled the room. 

You stared at Sandor with an expression of annoyance. A look he was becoming increasingly difficult to take from you.

With a defeated sigh he kneeled by the tub, reaching in to retrieve a scrubbing cloth one of the maids had dropped into the water. Sandor gently took your hand, and began to clean your fingernails as the other maid was doing.

You looked at him with confusion, “What are you doing?” you questioned softly with narrowed eyes.

He snorted a laugh, not looking at you continuing to clean you, “The fuck does it look like?” he grumbled. 

You raised a brow at him, unsure of what he was attempting to do. “The ladies would do that.” 

“Would if I let them.” Sandor rasped, continuing to clean the rest of your arm. 

“You won’t even allow women to see my body? Or perhaps you feel guilty.”

“Just shut up about it.” He snapped at you. Though he was a tamed dog, he still did not like it when such trivial things such as guilt over hurting the one thing of value he had loomed over his mind and heart. Especially when his guilty consciousness was so easily seen.

“You shut up about it.” You snapped back at him as you splashed water at him.

As the water splashed against Sandor, a silence fell upon you both. He hung his head in shame. And you looked away in frustration. Sandor’s eyes then fell upon you, much softer now. “He is dead,” he said calmly and gently. 

Your gaze swiftly shifted back to Sandor. Your eyes were no longer annoyed or frustrated. But sympathetic, and mournful. Not for Gregor, but for what Sandor gave up. What Sandor gave to you but what you could not give to him. “Do you feel relief?” You asked, your voice was gentler.

Sandor shrugged, his eyes still fixated on the ground. “Some.” 

“I’ve been cold towards you.” You said softly, sinking deeper into the water.

“I know.” He grumbled, looking down like a child who’d been caught misbehaving. 

You moved to the edge of the tub, placing a hand on Sandor’s cheek. “I am sorry, I prevented you from what might have offered you relief from that pain in you. But if you should try to leave me or our children again. You leave us at your peril.” You offered an apology, as well as a warning. Your words soft and gentle though heavy and hard.

Sandor shook his head, placing a hand on yours that caressed his scared flesh. “I could not leave you, or our girl, our boy.” He shook his head again,  “Gregor-” He looked away, the name alone caused anger to rise like bile in his throat. He closed his eyes, shaking him away from his mind,  “I couldn’t let him take that too.” He said finally looking back at you.

You looked into his eyes deeply, “Say the words.” you commanded. Though your voice was soft and gentle. Hardly above a whisper.

Sandor did not hesitate, “I love you.” His voice was bold and clear. 

With that, you stood from the bath. Water spilling into the tub as it rushed off of your body. Sandor's sad, brown puppy-like eyes followed you as you stepped out. You grabbed a robe, and wrapped it around yourself, still wet soaking wet. Your hair soaking the thin fabric that draped around your neck. “Stand.” You said looking back at Sandor, who was still kneeling. As if he were at your mercy. Sandor stood, and you allowed his arms to wrap around you as they were longing to for so long. You held him back. It was not often that Sandor would allow himself to be so vulnerable. You pulled yourself away from his chest, and placed your hands on either side of his face forcing his gaze onto you. “You are no longer a hound, a dog. You are a man, a husband, a father.” You said with a soft smile wanting him to rejoice in his freedom and all he had done with his new found agency.

“I do not deserve you. I’m a killer.” He said, still sulking with his sad eyes. 

“Am I not?” You said defiantly. It made him crack a small smile. “You’ve been an honest man. A loyal man, to those who deserve it.” You rubbed his check gently with your thumb before running your hands along his shoulders. “Though you may refuse it, you've protected the innocent. You’re a fierce warrior.” You then embraced him once more. “My husbands a killer and I’d have it no other way.” You said softly as your face was nuzzled into his chest. 

He took your face into his hands now, “Look at me,” he said as he directed your gaze to look into his, “your eyes.” his voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke softer. “Same ones that looked at me while you ate dinner with those Lannister cunts.” He remembered the first time you and he saw one another. He could never get the thought of you out of his head from that moment forth. You had bewitched him body and soul no matter how hard he attempted to deflect its hold on him. “No fear in them. I should know I’ve seen it a lot.” He said as he admired your soft gaze as it was now, “No disgust, ‘ve seen that too.” He said with a small smirk.

You did not share his amusement, you never found Sandor disgusting. And you pitied those who did, for they’d truly know how beauty transcends through skin. When you first saw his scared flesh it reminded you of ribbons of silk. You shook your head. “I’d never seen anything like you. You were beautiful.” You said as your eyes trailed over his features. Your words were earnest and the warmth of your gaze filled Sandor with purpose.

He shook his head, in disbelief of your existence even still, “I’d die for you.” He rasped.

“I want you to live for me.” 

His lips pressed against yours the kiss was gentle though firm as his hand gripped the back of your head and pressed your kiss deeper. It was as if it were a vow. His hands wrapped around your waist tightly pressing you close to his chest. Sandor cared not if you were still soaking wet, he simply wanted to be as close to you as possible. Now that you were allowing his touch and offering your own in return. With his passions rising he lifted you off of the ground with ease. He began to carry you to your bed.

Your kiss did not release. No, your lips stayed together as long as you’d allow it. Only parting to meet again. He placed you onto your bed gently as if he were trying not to break you. He pressed his weight down on you, not all the way, no that would have smothered you. It was just enough for you to feel warmth and safety from his body. You must have laid there on top of one another kissing and embracing one another bodies for an hour. 

Sometimes he would part from your lips to look into your eyes and pet your hair away from your face. As did so, his hand gently running through your hair, you looked upon him and his swollen lips.

“I have something for you.” You nearly whispered. Sandor looked at you with confusion, as you rolled out from underneath him. “I’d it made some time ago, but I was too cross with you to allow myself to give it.” Sandor watched from the bed as you retrieved a black leather box from your wardrobe. “Do you remember that necklace, the one Tyrion gave me?” Sandor Nodded, though not pleased with the thought of your previous engagement. You looked down at the box, trailing your finger tip along the edge of the box, “I thought that necklace was a thoughtful gift. Made in an attempt to gladden my heart by someone who desperately wanted it.” You stepped closer to Sandor. “But it was a collar. Just as all that golden jewelry was a symbol of my taking.”  Your voice was much darker now, “So I had it thrown in a fire. Melted down.” You opened the box, presenting a dagger. It was not fancy, nor extravagant. Simple and effective. “You always said you wanted Valyrian steel, and I’d lost your other dagger-” You were interrupted by Sandor suddenly standing from your bed. He marched over towards the dog shaped helmet in the room. “What are you-” You couldn’t finish that either before Sandor was marching out the room with it. 

You threw on a much thicker robe before following him out of your chambers.

You had to make an effort to keep up with him, his legs were much longer than yours. And when he was set on something he was determined to do it. 

You followed him all the way to the High Hall, where he opened the Moon Doors. You instinctively pulled him away from them, though your strength held little influence against his stature. You held onto his forearm as he held up the helmet. “The King had it made to show that I was his dog.” He scoffed. “Fuck the King.” Looking upon the helmet for a moment more before dropping it through the moon door. “I’m my own dog now.”

Sandor turned towards you only to notice that your eyes were watery like at Robin's funeral. Only now you were smiling. You let out a sigh of relief as a tear fell from your cheek. The Hound was dead, and Sandor lived. Lived to be beside you. 

His large hand came to your cheek and wiped the tear away. He did not understand the bliss you were feeling. He was about to apologize for whatever it was that made you cry. But the sounds of a maid called out, “My Lady!”

It startled you greatly, “Yes?” you beckoned back as the girl entered the room. 

The girl approached you with haste, “It’s your daughter-”

You approached her with haste as well, “What’s happened?” you loudly beckoned with great concern and Sandor followed behind you.

“No my Lady, tis happy news! The little ones began to crawl.” She announced with glee.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

You and Sandor stood looking upon the small babe, crawling. Though she struggled, she still continued, prevailing. A stubborn thing just as her mother. Sandor would of course pretend as though this sight did not fill him with such immense pride but it did. The girl was born early, underweight, and yet she beat her brother who was born of a healthy weight to crawling. Such a small movement but such a large accomplishment. 

You looked at Sandor, and you knew he’d never speak his praises. He’d find no use of it. You could see in his eyes he was proud. You could see the tender love he held for this little thing so deeply.

You smiled as you looked at him, “Sandor?”

“Hm?” He hummed as he watched the babe crawl.

“I love you.” You said earnestly and softly.

Sandor looked at you, he sighed, “I love you.” He said as his hand tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Sandor?” You asked again.

“Hm?” He hummed once more.

You smiled, 

“I’m with child.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

NOTE: This is so bitter sweet. I am so so so grateful to all of you who have engaged with this story and engaged with my posts. This is not the end of this story! I will be doing small updates here and there. But the main series is officially at an end.  K love you, xoxo

Bambi

Beloved Tags: 

@dontfollowjuststuff @merfic @broadsdrinkwhisky  @vikingswhore0

@the-queen-of-sorrows @eddiesbongwater @not-neverland06  @symonedoesart 

@wyvernnest @bdudette @frosch-thefrog @patrick-hockstutter @vikingswhore0

@drymushroomfics @dream-a-little-nightmare @lavenderbreeze3 @hotvillianapologist

@childofheresy   @go0mbette