#yet another wolf ill never see

[dellinah]

Awh, so peaceful with the soft colors. This is adorable.

Sleepy warrah

[jingler]

Wizard101 Pov: you're scrolling on spiralblr some point around arc 2

0 notes

👀 lail-brighteyes Follow

I'm never going on a field trip again THEY PUT ME IN A FUCKIBG ZOO

🌈 gayrizzleheim Follow

A field trip to a zoo doesn't seem too bad??

👀 lail-brighteyes Follow

No you misheard me. I'm not at the zoo, I'm in the zoo. As in, I'm in one of the cages and people are taking pictures of me.

35 notes

🏡 chillin-like-a-titon Follow

Can there stop being attacks on the spiral for FIVE FUCKING MINUTES????

140.1k notes

✅️ wiz-polls-daily Follow

8,341 notes

🪦 is-malistaire-dead-yet Follow

YES.

🪦 is-malistaire-dead-yet Follow

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

33.2k notes

🌋 spawnofhellhound Follow

Idk if I'm just dumb but I truly don't understand colonization in the spiral. Like you travel through time and space and through the stars and find an entirely different world doing just fine and you say, "that's mine now" ???????

🕶 beyondbonetts-deactivated

spiralblr simplifying and overexageratting other worlds' problems. why am I not surprised.

��� luckyhooker Follow

🕶 beyondbonetts-deactivated

NOT WHAT WE'RE CALLED

12.3k notes

⚰️ wolf-deathsinger Follow

stopped by the back of ravenwood for the first time in a while and malorn ashthorn was there still lmao I guess it makes sense for the younger students to be taught there so they don't have to go all the way to nightside but what a flashback

☠️ malice-and-ash Follow

If you think I'm mentally prepared to take on the real world after Ravenswood you got another thing coming. I'm guarding that pit til I die.

⚰️ wolf-deathsinger Follow

ok first of all didnt know you have spiralblr hi second of all does....does ambrose know you're still squatting there teaching the younger students?

☠️ malice-and-ash Follow

Titan knows. I don't think that man leaves his office. I get a sack of gold each month but I think gamma is in charge of finance.

🧙‍♂️ wizardstrong456 Follow

The owl? That's why my student loans got fucked up 🤦‍♂️

🪸 coral-oceanswimmer Follow

ew, what is a specieist doing here

99 notes

🕶 beyondbonetts-deactivated

I am sick and tired of all you pretend activists calling me marleyboner. It's literally a slur. Idc if you think it's funny to shit on worlds you deem ~problematic~ but disrespecting an entire world's name like that is unacceptable.

🪩 spiral-gayte Follow

this you?

👑 amul3twh0re Follow

i love posts where you can see exactly why the op is deactivated

30.4k notes

🦀 underdaseamen Follow

listen i have nothing against wizards visiting celestia but if you do can you please use a mount that makes sense for the area. yall have no idea how terrifying it is when you leave your house with your crab friends and a fucking horse starts swimming toward you.

6 notes

🐷 randolf-spellshine Follow

about to go fight this wizard in the spiral cup ill post the video later

🐷 randolf-spellshine Follow

i got my ass beat bruh im not posting that shit

1,243 notes

🦡 baddestbadger-inavalon Follow

4,371 notes

🦋 ladyorielfan23 Follow

Why we should have expected the y**ng w*z*rd destroying Azteca (part 1)

yw crit under the cut

i have to put something here but i do not have the energy to write an entire essay from ladyorielfan23's perspective so imagine a super angry rant here about how problematic the young wizard is omg why would you say that ladyorielfan23 also my apologies for fucking up the lore in the last dashboard simulator i have no idea what this game's plot is

[gingersxng]

Who’s Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf

Pairing: f!reader x Mingi

Genre: smut 18+, angst

WARNING: this contains abusive and inappropriate stuff that may be triggering or disturbing for some people. if you decide to read further then you’ve been warned!! This doesn’t represent him in real life!!

Notes: completely consensual, sub!reader, mean rough dom!Mingi, big dick Mingi, Mingi is violent, abusive relationship, possessiveness, almost getting caught, breeding kink, bulge kink, slight size kink, perverted actions, blood, bruises, hickeys, scratching, biting, unprotected sex (don’t), choking, manhandling, Mingi calls reader little lamb, whore & doll, slapping, dacryphilia, somnophilia, kissing, mentions of fainting, anxiety, depression, self harm, eating disorders, cum cum cum, oral (f receiving), handjob. may have forgot something!

Words: 1.8k

you had been having a rough childhood and developed a few illnesses as you grew older as eating disorders of different kinds, cutting, depression, anxiety, self hate etc. you met Mingi a few months ago at a party, your friends had invited you cause they thought you needed to have a little fun since you’d been through so much. a few hours later the anxiety hit and you went to the hallway to be alone for a while, then he appeared. a tall man with black short hair and he was insanely handsome, he saw you sitting in a corner all by yourself and went to you asking if you were alright. you gave him a nod and he helped you up on your feet, you were so small compared to his big frame and you were dressed in a short skirt with a top cut low that showed your cleavage.

he played it cool at first, he didn’t want to show you his real side right away. he caressed your arm and lowered himself to your ear “maybe I can make you feel better” the low whisper sent chills down your body and your body responded like it never done before. Mingi grabbed your hand and guided you inside the bathroom, and before you knew it you were hovering over the sink with your skirt up and panties to the side as Mingi fucked you from behind. it was an insane feeling, you knew it was so wrong but you liked it and it was yet another way of self harm, to feel loved and so it began.

almost everyone knew who he was, your friends always told you that he wasn’t good for you, your mom were always worried when you spent the nights at his place. they called him the big bad wolf, that’s what he looked like and most of all behaved like. bruises on your neck, arms and legs didn’t go unnoticed but you didn’t give it too much time explaining the situation either. sure maybe you deserved better or whatever they told you but you loved him, he made you feel loved and seen.

he ate you out hungrily with your legs spread wide apart holding them open in his tight grip, lust and desire wasn’t on his list.. lust maybe but you were his toy, his nasty sex doll that he could do anything to. the kissing and biting he did on your inner thighs made you almost cum quicker than a speeding bullet.

he’d been overstimulating you for half an hour and you weren’t capable of being quiet anymore, you whined, almost screaming his name from the top of your lungs. the idea of being caught like this always scared you especially when he for once did end up railing you at your place. a sudden knock on your bedroom door froze you in place, the panic shot through your body afraid of your mom entering seeing you with him treating you like a rag doll. “are you alright sweetie, you were screaming” you quickly pushed Mingi away from your pussy with your feet trying to run to the door and give your mom a reasonable answer but he beat you to it, before your could reach the door he ran after you and grabbed you from behind dragging you back to bed with him. you kicked your feet in the air telling him to let go of you but he covered your mouth with his hand. he pinned you down onto your bed with one hand still on your mouth and the other one on your lower belly “you’re mine and mine only, don’t think you’ll get away from me that easily little lamb”

Mingis big hand let go of your mouth and wandered slowly down your neck to the valley of your breasts, he ripped your top open and discovered the lack of a bra. he gave you a questioning look, a look that gave you the shivers, what was he up to now. “Mingi I-“ you tried but he bit your nipple so hard you let out a gasp, with all the attention on your nipples you didn’t notice Mingi unbuckling his belt and guiding his cock to your entrance, you snapped out of it when the tip entered your tight hole.

he shoved it all the way in reaching up your cervix as he continued devouring your tits, thrust after thrust he destroyed your insides and your gummy walls sucked him in even further.

the thought of your mom maybe being able to hear was long gone, all you could think of was to keep yourself quiet and sane. Mingi sat himself up on his knees still thrusting in and out of you with full force, he pressed one hand on your lower stomach feeling his cock moving under your skin. “fuck I’m so deep inside you, I’m gonna fuck you full and get you pregnant, let everyone know who you’ve been fucking for months” he slapped your tits and pinched your nipple and you let out a high squeak. “I-I can’t get pregnant Mingi aah” you grabbed his shoulders as he only fastened his pace “fucking without a condom will get you pregnant sooner or later, maybe I should take away your pills too to make it even easier hmm”

you knew it wasn’t any good discussing with him, he’d always get his ways with you, but if everyone in your family would get to know you were pregnant with Mingis baby they would kick you out, you would be a disappointment to them and not to talk about the kids having a (sex)abuser as a father.

a slap on your thigh snapped you out of your awful thoughts “eyes on me when I fuck you!”

—

you were arching your back on the bed with both your hands tight together over your head by Mingis big hand. he was fucking you hard and rough without any mercy, his chains dangled in your face as he worked his hips into yours. your mouth hung open as big whines rolled of your tongue, your pubic bone was beginning to bruise and your wrists were hurting like hell.

Mingi attacked your neck giving it small bites and hickeys marking you, some parts was hurting more since he gave new hickeys on old ones. “for fucking sake stop whining so much and be quiet!” Mingi snapped giving your thigh a stinging slap again. you put your bottom lip between your teeth doing your best to be quiet, you gave him the big puppy eyes but earned another slap instead. “don’t think you can get away with things by playing cute” he let go of your hands and placed his own onto your hips, his nails dug deep into your flesh almost drawing blood, Mingi thrusted into you faster and harder until your eyes rolled in your head. Mingi looked down at you with a smirk, like a wolf looking at its prey.

you squirmed under him and cried, your hands found their way to his broad bare back were you dug your nails into his skin scratching him hard. a deep groan came from Mingi as he felt your nails draw blood from his back but he liked it, his whole back was scarred because of you.

you were at your breaking point and you felt the knot in your stomach almost snap, your pleads and moans got higher and your mind got foggy, you grabbed Mingis chains and pulled him down to your face “Mingi p-plea“ you begged him but midway you felt his lips crash onto yours. he forced his tongue inside your mouth and placed a hand around your neck, he pressed lightly to cut off your airways almost enough to make you faint and it made you a bit dizzy, you had too much experience in that already.

Mingi slowed down his thrusts and as he did he also let go of your neck and let go of your lips, he rubbed your clit a few times and you finally came all over his cock. he fucked you slow a couple times until he painted your walls with his hot seed.

“Mingi please can we stop, it hurts so bad” you whined as you dried your tears running down your cheek. he hovered over you and gave you an intimidating look, his eyes were hooded and black. “I won’t stop until I’m done with you whore” he said giving your nipple a pinch. “you can’t” you sniffled. “oh trust me doll I can and I will, now on all fours!” he quickly pulled out and flipped you over, you slowly stood up on your fours while your head hung low.

Mingi gave your ass a hard slap and separated the cheeks watching your used hole clench onto nothing as his cum dripped out and onto the bed. you felt his warm tongue all over your abused pussy, slurping up all your juices mixed with his own. you arched your back more and your poor legs began to shake of all the overstimulation going on.

Mingi places sloppy kisses on your cunt and all over your ass, you suddenly let out a loud scream when he took a bite of your ass, his teeth marks were engraved deep into your flesh. you glared back at Mingi with big eyes. “the fuck Mingi that really hurt!!” the only response you got was a amused laugh. and without any warning he slipped his thick cock inside your pussy again ramming you for dear life. his hands held a firm steady grip on your hips, the sweat ran down his neck and chest. that was also what your bedroom smelled like, sweat and nasty sex. the knot in your belly was about to snap for the second time and your whole body began to shake.

Mingi watched in amusement how his cock went in and out of your tight cunt and how white foam was coating the base of his veiny cock. a few thrusts more and he came inside you again, you came at the same time. your body said “no” and you just collapsed onto the bed, Mingi pulled out and rolled you over onto your back. you shook your head and mumbled nonsense, your entire body hurt and the tears on your cheeks started to dry. Mingi towered over you watching your fucked out face, he guided your hand to his still fully hard cock and you pumped him slow a few times, your drowsy eyes was doing their best to keep eye contact with him but failed. a few seconds later you’d fallen asleep with you hand still holding on to his dick, that wouldn’t stop him tho from finishing his work.

Mingi rolled you onto your side and placed himself behind you with his warm chest pressed against your back, he lifted one of your legs over his and entered you from behind. fucking you in your sleep slowly until he was completely done with you.

[linpunny]

NSFW Alphabet Letter C(um)

Before reading be warned this is very Dessycoded and self indulgent but still wrote as a reader fic. I will never recover from this I am currently terminally ill for this man. I want all his cum ok. I have a problem, DONT PERCEIVE ME

CW: Size kink, cream pies, predator/prey dynamics, mentions of multiple rounds, multiple positions, squirting, multiple orgasms, lots of cum talk and mentions of cum, womb fucking, pet names (baby, good girl, cumslut) slight tiny dergration, size kink.

Wc: 1.k

Pairing: Taiju Shiba and fem!reader

*Reader has a kitty kat but no pronouns

Banner/mdni and lines made my the lovely @/benkeiibear

Network: @enchantedforest-network

Taiju loved making you cum, he was so good at drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you, he was an expert in the language of your pussy. He knew just where to fuck you to make you cum on command, whether it was with his fingers, tongue or dick. As much as Taiju loved making you cum he loved filling you with his cum even more. He was a man that hated the thought of his seed going to waste, especially now that he had the perfect little cumslut laying underneath him every night begging to be filled to the brim with his thick load.

His cum was precious to both you and him and that meant it had to be poured deep into your womb, fucked deeper with each heavy stroke of his fat dick or shot down your throat. He made sure not one drop went to waste and tonight was no different.

Your pussy was already filled so impossibly full of his thick pearly cum that each stroke of his dick caused more and more to dribble out of your slick folds, mixing in with the white silvery sheen on his shaft from your own arousal.

Thrust. Squelch.

Thrust. Squelch.

Thrust. Squelch.

Taiju’s eyes remained glued to the place where the two of you were connected, watching his cum being pushed in and out of your tight little cunt, the corner of his lips curling into a wolf-like grin as he continued to slam his dick into you ruthlessly. He grabbed your leg, draping it over his hip, fingers digging bruises into the soft skin of your thigh while his other hand played with one of your perked nipples, rolling the sensitive bud in between his thumb and pointer finger as he thrusted over and over again into your sopping wet pussy without mercy.

The new position not only drew out the sweetest moans from your pretty parted lips but also allowed him more access to fuck his cum even deeper than before as and hit that soft spongy spot that had tears streaming down your face, toes curling as another hard orgasm pulsed through your body, coating his already soaked shaft and balls with the creamiest slick he’d ever felt or seen. Goddamn it, it was so hot seeing you cream all over his dick, he could never get tired of watching you literally come undone (on him) for him.

“Fuck, baby.’ he groaned loudly as your warm velvety walls practically sucked his dick, trying to milk him dry again. His pace slowed but only for a few minutes as he rolled his hips gently into yours, long dicking your overstimulated abused cervix with each languid thrust so you could catch a breath and ride out your orgasm. His energy during sex was monstrous. He was ravenous, an apex predator in bed but he knew his little prey would run out of stamina if he didn’t let you recover for a few minutes. He felt you pushing back on his forearms trying to squirm away and he” tsk’d” in disapproval shaking his head, “You know we aren’t finished yet, little one. Don’t you dare pull away from me again.” his dick wasn’t coming out of your pussy. Not like you really had a choice with how tightly your soft walls were clinging to his cock. He couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to.

He knew he wouldn’t last much longer at this rate. You felt too good wrapped snuggly around his tip and shaft, gummy walls massaging him as he slowly thrusted through your pussy.

Once your hazy half lidded eyes traveled up to his golden ones he waited for your cue, a small nod that meant he could continue. You sighed, nodding, giving him the consent he needed and he immediately resumed jackhammering his dick into you with fast deep strokes. His broad hands hold onto the sides of your thigh, guiding you into a new position as he folded your knees to your chest, your feet resting flat on his pecs as he spread his knees wide angling up to thrust into your fluttering pussy.

“You love being stuffed full of my cum like this, huh?” You were so fucking wet and desperate clinging to him like your life depended on it, clawing your nails into his shoulders, chanting his name like a prayer, worshipping him like a God.

Your slutty moans were a prayer that graced his ears and he knew only he could answer them for you. He was your fucking God. Only he could bring you to this blissed out state and he loved watching your tiny body take as much cum as he could give you.

“Y-yes!” You managed to babble out between broken sobs as he hammered away, thick bulbous tip leaking as his dick throbbed inside your overstuffed cum filled pussy. You could feel how hard he was with each slam of his hips into yours, his pace getting sloppy and his breathing was ragged as he pulled you down on his cock to meet his thrusts. You knew Taiju was going to cum soon, shooting even more of his fat load right into your swollen womb. Your arms circled around his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss, swallowing his throaty grunts as he split you open until the coil that had been building brutally snapped, squirting hot liquid down his abs, your inner thighs, dribbling down your ass and onto the sheets beneath you.

“So fucking filthy f’me.” He speak into your lips, almost ready to explode on the spot as soon as you squirted on him.

Without warning Taiju slammed fast one last time, rough and deep plunging his cum swollen tip right past the relaxed entrance to your womb. The muscles of his ass cheeks tightened ,his abs clenched tightly as his soaked and heavy breeding balls grew taut, shooting the last of his thick load into your womb, ropes of white painting every inch of your pussy as his again.

Taiju smirked into the kiss as the last of his cum dribbled out of his tip and down your slick covered thighs, as his lips devoured yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. Moaning as you returned the favor. Pulling his mouth away from yours he propped himself on his elbows, semi hard dick still inside your warm cunt, plugging you up so no more of his cum would spill out.

He admired the beautiful mess he had made, a flicker of pride swirled in his golden eyes, voice low and sultry as he praised you for doing such a good job, “Look at you, taking it all like a good girl.”

© Linpunny 2023 All of the following works are fictional and belong to me. Please do not copy, edit, or steal any of my content. Do not advertise on any other social media.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

54 - The Final Marching Trek

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

Length: 16.1k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, unspecified mental illness, mental duress, references to cheating/infidelity, body image issues, insecurities, violence and disturbing imagery, past trauma torture and mutilation, separation

Notes: Thank you for your patience in me posting this, I appreciate you all more then you know. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

It was not a sight terribly dissimilar to the one you were looking to now. A ridge overlooking a river with the cold wind blowing your hair out in front of you. The melancholy feeling unsure in your bones not knowing what it was the future held you were moving towards, what family and love was to soon look like. Only, then it was a dress grazing along the grass as it blew as well and the company some degree behind you was vast and irritating.

What too was different, was who approached you. Trapped within the clutches of that day you recalled, was the graceful beauty of Queen Cersei approaching you in your silence standing by the running water as the noise faded into the distance. Not with words yet did she make her presence known, but you felt her there all the same. Her blonde hair loose much like yours now, the long length you, back in such a memory, had long since given up having again.

Yours now was such a length as hers, but then you had half less then her in frustration. She had always insisted you have proper handmaidens from your first day in Kings Landing, and you by fourteen had cut your hair short in a ladies standards to avoid them fussing over it everyday. It was longer then even Jons long curls now but still was quite short in terms of what a highborn lady normally looked. Her dress too, always impeccable. Never did you see such a Queen in your reflection which sat so naturally on her.

No matter how much now you would wish for nothing more then to see Cersei Lannister as far from the Iron Throne as possible, she no doubt looked the most like a true Queen should then any attempt you could make in your life. She had been pregnant with Myrcella by the time you first met her at the feast on Dragonstone, and even then she was beautiful. Standing next to her at that river side however, it was not one highborn lady against another.

You had long since then learned when Cersei spoke with manipulation, but it was a raw honesty she had finally let out only when she was sure no one else was near to listen.

She once held affection for you when you were a girl, and only sometimes by then did she still have enough humanity to let it out when no one was looking.

Strangely enough, she echoed something similar to what Renly had said to you not long before you departed for the Kingsroad. “Most girls don't look quite so grim before their wedding.” You didn't answer, and luckily, she took no offence to it.

Cersei it seemed, saw such raw nerves within you, or the hiding of something unknown and recognized what almost, seemed like a vision of herself in another time. Biting your tongue, you thought not of the face you were losing but the unknown of what having what you had with him, would be like with his brother. A small tilt of your head to the side indicated your uncertainty on the matter.

Taking another step closer, finally you could sense her gaze towards you but you were unwilling to look away from the waving waters rushing by. “If it is the bedding you are worried about-”

“It isn't, your grace.” That was a lie, but you would have rather not gotten into that discussion now or ever with her. “I've known Robb Stark many years, what I will be getting myself into shouldn't be much of a mystery as a whole, I suppose.”

Glancing to her, there was a sadness you had recognized from many years before even that day. One as a girl of fourteen in her chambers being told a heavy truth, realizing that was not the end of what she had to say. “Never expect the men in your life to treat you with any form of goodness, and it will never be able to disappoint you when they become far worse.”

Yet the image did not match what you knew, outside of the love you then were too scared to admit, Robb was as perfect of a match as a highborn girl just like yourself could dream for. Still though, you had found yourself giving into her perspective just a little, if not from the nerves running inside you. “I am aware of what is expected of me, your grace. Do what makes my husband happy, and that should be enough for most men.”

Her huff was not a laugh but perhaps something more sinister in perspective of her own marriage. “Trust me, my dove, that will never be enough for any man. You will give every part of yourself to him, and it one day will be too little. Your bed grows colder and colder until you no longer sleep in the same as him, and when he finds himself with a new, younger woman to play with, you will have no choice but to pretend it is not happening and that you are still enough.”

Attempting to interject, it did not fall on deaf ears, but perhaps biased ones. “Robb is not a man who would-”

“All of them are. Make no mistake.” Finally your eyes met as you turned more to face her, as much malice was painted behind hers there was also something wishing to provide a proper comfort which she did not think existed. “Learn that early, and you will never be disappointed when they betray you. You will do your duty, but once he does not need you anymore, don't waste your life trying to force it to be as it once was. A wife will never convince her husband to return to her once he's taken a whore into bed behind your back.”

All in the high court knew too well the degree of Robert Baratheons infidelity, and it made not a soul comfortable with the fact of how brazen he was with it. More of a strained whisper, you could not match such images from Robert to Robb. “He would still expect me to..”

“Birth him children, and you will be surprised what little he shall expect of you afterwards. In the rare event Robert leaves his whores long enough to stumble drunk into my bed, I finish him off in other ways. In the morning he doesn't remember.”

No, you thought again. None of that fit, that was not Robb. You knew without a doubt that was not the Robb you knew. If it was only fear she meant to instill however, why looking at Cersei did you then feel something a wave of doubt in your own sense of self. You knew you looked nothing near her beauty, and if she could not keep her husband interested in someone who looks as alluring as she, perhaps it was not out of the realm of possibility.

But again, you had known Robb for years. “This isn't the same, I've known Robb since I was a girl. You've always hated Robert-”

If it was honesty you did not expect, it was honest you got in a very suddenly raw display of genuity in her eyes. “Hated him? I worshipped him. Every girl in the Seven Kingdoms dreamed of him, but he was mine by oath.” Glancing out to the river now, lost in a memory of her own you could see bright in her eyes. “And when I finally saw him on our wedding day in the Sept of Baelor, lean and fierce and black bearded, it was the happiest moment of my life.” But as her eyes met yours, so did the memory of false hope fade within her. “Then that night he crawled on top of me, stinking of wine and did what he did, what little he could do, and whispered in my ear Lyanna.”

Instantly you looked away. Face falling into a twisting conflict, knowing one story and another but there was little you could say to make that alright. Lyanna Stark was dead, but on that night Cersei Lannister was a living girl, now his wife, and Robert refused to love her more then the one who was never coming back. Not something you imagined then, or now, would be easy to feel.

It was the thing you refused to let Jon think in comparison to Robb, but Robert let Cersei feel it in comparison to Lyanna. None of it was fair, but it was what she said next that was on your mind in the cold present. “Do you remember what I told you when you were a girl? The morning your red flower had bloomed?”

You hesitated, but nodded yes.

Cersei if anything, spoke with something even more honest behind her attempts to hide it. “Never forget that. If it weren't for my children, I'd have thrown myself from the highest window in the Red Keep long ago. They're the reason I'm alive. It isn't much, but yours may be the only happiness you'll be able to find, as mine are.”

Truth be told, you knew she must have been quite willing to be honest if not for a second did she say anything against it when it slipped out. “Even Joffery?”

But she almost only smiled knowingly. “Even Joffery. He was all I had once. Before Myrcella was born. I used to spend hours looking at him. His wisps of hair. His tiny little hands and feet. You always hear the terrible ones were terrible babies, but it's nonsense. Whenever he was with me, he was happy. And no one can take that away from me, not even Joffery. How it feels to have someone of your own.”

Did you have that? Had you ever? Past or present you struggled to see if you ever truly found that as the fog continued to fade so much away from your mind. In the memory, you had barley found the strength to respond, “It cannot be impossible to find some medium, your grace. Somewhere in between the best and worst, to just have a family I may be content with.”

“But it is, my dove. Women such as us do not have a choice. We either claw our way to the top, or die at the very bottom. We don't get to have a middle ground.”

She had left you alone by the water then, the next day you would all set out to make the remaining two days to Winterfell and find out if what she warned had been the truth or not. But as you stood in the cold air in the present, your mind felt far away still, and you had not yet thought you figured it out.

Little Eddard had woken up before the rest, and you had brought him far from the significant amount of hearing space from the campsite to settle him. Cries more muffled as you held the warm bundle close to your front to take all of the cold wind away from his exposed skin, and yet you had somehow found yourself drifting to that day by the water when he was finally calming.

Cersei was not a stupid woman, she knew to Joffery she was lesser in his eyes, but she loved him anyways. Held onto that love because he was hers, and not even he could take that away from her, but as you stood there it felt worse and worse. The fear that Eddard was yours yes, you needed him, but he did not want you. He was supposed to be the thing you held onto that would keep you even a small bit happy, but what if your son was different?

What if he was never happy with you? Already a festering fear dripped into your bloodstream whispering poison that you would never be the same for Jon again. You reached the point Cersei spoke of. You gave him one, and perhaps this was it. You would give him more and nothing else mattered about you to him. A woman like Cersei was beautiful, you were not. You could not even offer Jon that much.

The girl, Daisy, she had been fearful to be honest with you. Admitting that her instructions from Petyr Baelish included securing one of her girls in the brothel to seducing the King in the North for means of sabotaging you both before marriage. But you had not feared it then, knowing there was guilt on her for ever once considering needing to do it. You were not insecure when you had jested to her that marrying the day he and you returned likely ruined that plan.

But you were now. It would be weeks before he could even take you the way he'd want too, and you knew Jon enjoyed his freedom to be physical with you. You hated it, you never compared Robb to Robert but now something inside of you was falling into Cersei's trap and fearing that it was Jon who would cast you aside.

He didn't deserve to be questioned, you didn't even mean it maliciously. You felt as opposite of alluring as you could ever possibly be, Jon would not be to blame if he sought someone smaller and prettier then you for his pleasure instead. You'd give him as many children as he wanted without question, but maybe you had lied to yourself into thinking you were the exception here.

A happy family, a husband and son that you loved and loved you. But if Cersei was right, you were only lying to yourself, and it would only cause Jon and now little Eddard to feel smothered by your attempts to try and keep them to yourself.

The previous night may as well not existed, whatever laughs and smiles was shared between your new family of your making, did not exist. Maybe you imagined it, or Jon was only humouring you because he still had to put up with dragging you home for days. But you shouldn't complain. This was what you were born to do.

Marry a man and have his children. That was your duty. You didn't have the right to want more from Jon then what he's already done for you.

The sudden feeling however of arms slinking around your person, one to your hip and the other gentler across your front and tugging you back just slightly almost had you jump in place. A deep murmur rasping in your ear with a just as gentle chuckle to follow, “Didn't mean to scare you.” Muttering passingly it was fine, Jon leaned over your shoulder a bit to properly see the little one. “Everything alright?”

Nodding, you could only hope your whisper was not as obviously unsettled as was the beginnings of racing returning to your heart. “He woke up a little fussy. Brought him over here so he didn't wake you all.” Almost turning to look, Jons grip on your hip tightened to keep you in place as he assured you so far only you five were awake. “Five?”

Feeling his head nod somewhat in the distance to just outside your immediate view, you could see Ghost and Summer both clearly stalking around the distant forest in hunting demeanour. A small babble coming from the bundle, you shifted so the baby could more easily look around. Jon pulling his hand from your front to tug a glove off with his teeth, stashing it to his side before reaching back around. His hand gentle as it ran across the top of his head, and the babble turned into a louder sound.

Just as nonsensical but a little brighter as did his eyes open more from his drowsy state. You could practically feel Jons smile without needing to see it when you felt the hesitation in you, fighting with the logic and ultimately the question slipped out more uncertain about which answer you'd rather receive then you liked. “Did you want to take him?”

If he picked up on it yet, he didn't say anything. Just a shake of his head before rasping out, “No, we're all fine right here.” Once more, if your silence in response was awkward you did not know if he noticed or chose not to speak on it. Just a tight lipped single nod, before finding yourself no longer able to relax, as if you had been relaxed before.

Jon wasn't touching you as if he didn't want to, but you also knew you were mostly hidden away and would be until you were within at least four walls. You'd have something figured out by then, what to do about it. Desperate in hope you would be able to spot his dwindling interest and you'd be smart enough to find a way to keep just a scrap of it a little while longer.

“How much longer until we reach the Wall?”

Glancing over only long enough to spot Meera by Bran and Jon as she asked the question, you quickly turned back. Stone facing your gaze to something more passive in case they caught it. Your eyes only narrowed for only a moment until they turned somewhat playful. A smirk forming over that did not help the look in Eddards. You knew that mischievous look far too well, present in some form or another in all Starks.

Sighing deeply, you let your fingertips run along his sides as you leaned in with a gentle whisper, a scolding tone not serious enough to be picked up on. “Oh, so now that you're clean you've decided now is the time to start being silly?” He was so small still, it had only been a few days but it was noticeable everytime you cleaned him.

As best he could making almost what you could describe as rather grabby hands, you shifted so one hand pulled the loose strands of your hair more behind your back as he once more almost giggled. For something so small and young, already he was chalk full of personality. You wished you had proper clothes to dress him in. Only using what of yours and Jons you both could readily spare, wrapped up more in fabrics and furs around to keep him extra warm but you hated not having things for him.

Pulling him up finally and resting him high on your torso, whatever lightness was on your face suddenly left as you turned back. Jon kneeling down securing his pack as he smiled at whatever he and Bran were talking about. Benjen and Meera both seemingly familiar with one another to some degree discussing something which looked as if it were about the area. Ghost and Summer both similarly sticking by one another close to Jon and Bran.

The only one who was not quite fitting in with the group however was not you alone. Instead, you could see the unreadable stare of Yara watching you from where she was covering up the embers of the fire. Hardly brave enough to hold her gaze in case she said something, you didn't want to start a confrontation with your son in your arms. Biting your tongue you tugged the furs a little more over Eddards head before looking away.

Inhaling deeply, you moved to pretend as if you belonged in this trio of pairs which had no room for you. Glancing up from Bran you could see Jons silent gaze ask once more if you were alright, the tight smile you gave which lasted hardly half of a second as your eyes tore away from him, meant you missed the look he gave in return. Lips parted slightly as if wishing to say something, but swallowing rough as the rest of his face twisted into a frown, no longer engaging quite the same with Bran.

Jon had to leave much of your things behind when you were taken, unable to carry two packs and a baby. He tried to bring what he could of yours, but you had nothing to carry if not the baby. Not even the furs on your front, now being used to keep him wrapped and warm since Jon had to make use of what you left behind. The cloak Benjen tore from the dead for you to wear was still all you really had to fight the wind outside the long sleeved layers over you otherwise. So you had nothing to prepare to leave but the baby in your arms, as everyone else worked to leave.

Not a clue you had, that you looked extremely lost and disconnected as you stood in the camp sight without finding anyone to go close to in any capacity. You felt it, but you thought you were discreetly more to the side then you were. But no, you stood out greatly to multiple eyes who unbeknownst to you, could see something was wrong.

It had been for days and it wasn't getting any better.

New mothers were supposed to be filled with joy, and you felt love and a bonding with Eddard but your insides felt hollow. As if what you were giving him was the remainder of your emotional capacity, it was not terribly unlike when you returned from death. Not as torturous and grieving, but the same emptiness in your heart like something in you was left behind.

When the thought came into your head, you didn't know, but all you could tell was that it hadn't left in hours. The thought, the realization that Ramsay was right. Birthing a son was your only use, and once you fulfilled that, you were useless and worthless to the world. Not at all aware as well, of how worried you had begun making Jon since you all set out that morning.

He had come up to you with a bright worry in his eyes, asking low with a hand at your cheek if you were really alright and you had barley muttered with not much energy, “It's fine, let's just go.” Your eyes avoiding his the whole sentence. Jon tilted his head trying to glance around but found too many people trying to watch. Instead guiding you with a hand at your lower back to begin moving, muttering into your ear to tell him if you need help or want a break from carrying him.

You hadn't even let him help you wrap the baby up and around your front to carry with ease, which he had done every time without second thought. Jon certainly noticed that as well. Too he wondered, if he didn't even hand you food would you even eat of your own free will? You knew you had to beacuse of the baby, but you didn't even look like you wanted to eat or drink anything. You barley were focused if not just on the baby, and the small moments of joy you had were less and less and more Jon found something with a pain behind your steeled expression.

It frustrated Jon, he didn't have any real privacy out here. When it was you, him and Ghost alone, that was nothing but privacy. But now, Jon couldn't have any time with you that wasn't with at least one pair of eyes watching. Yaras voice came from his left, her own eyes trained forward on your figure moving closer to Meera, Bran, and Benjen but not close enough to be part of any conversation. “I told you this would happen.”

Low and rough, Jons face twisted rather quickly into anger. “I know my wife better then you do.”

He despised the dismissive and snarkish manner she threw back with. “Let me guess. You're different, you aren't like most men, what you two have is special and she knows it.” It sounded pathetic the rude manner she phrased it, but that didn't make it all false, he knew what you had was different but he let her keep speaking. “Trust me, Stark. You're not different. None of you men are. She knows eventually one day you'll get tired of her, and start choosing to get any run of the mill whore to suck your cock instead of her.”

Reaching out, Jon forced her to stop as he twisted her to face him in an instant. Face and eyes radiating with anger that hissed out in his low tone to not draw attention. “You have no idea what you're talking about.” Questioning if she didn't, Jon felt his muscles urging to twitch and lash out with the feeling knowing there was no where for the tension in them to actually go. “She's the only woman I've ever loved, ever been with-”

“Is she the only woman you've ever fucked, Stark?”

Something unwell churned in his stomach at the question, and yet the manner which his lack of response was taken, was in the worst way possible. The one which he knew gave her an image that wasn't anywhere near the truth. He would've been able to confidently say yes if it weren't for Ygritte, and now the image he just gave Yara was Jon had been unfaithful to you.

A condescending smirk came over her face, “I told you. All the same. You're pretty wife over there knows it'll happen again, it always does. If you really love her, try and at least pretend you'll be loyal to her until you can get her help. Bad things happen when you let newborn mothers become this way.” Asking what, Yara's smirk fell into something serious and dark which Jon already figured out the answer to as she spoke slowly. “Bad things. If you want my advice Stark, maybe start carrying the baby yourself. Protect your son from her, if you don't really care enough to help her.”

Trying to walk way, Jon yanked her back aggressively. That time, not caring that her protest caught the attention of everyone else. Still speaking low, “And you're what? An expert on protecting your family?” Sharply mentioning he was the one who killed Victarion he cut in, “We both know who I'm talking about. So don't stand there and talk down to me about protecting the people you love.”

Nearly shoving passed her, his shoulder running into hers, he cared not about looking back. Ignoring the stares from the rest, Benjen motioned to keep going. Reading quick into Jons lack of willingness to even partially explain whatever it was just occurred. Instead, coming up to you, Jon turned you back to go forward and pulled you into his side as must as he could without jostling you and the baby.

Letting his hand at your lower back rise up to your hip and waist he tried to run up and down as soothing as he could. Your voice gentle trying to murmur to him, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jon knew he wouldn't be able to guess which way you would take it, but he said it anyways with the only truth he had. Not letting you stray from his touch again. “No. I just wish I could have you to myself right now. Both of you.” But when you gently asked again for his sake if he wanted to take Eddard for a while, Jon almost paused in his step.

If he took him right now, Jon knew it meant he was worried he didn't trust you, but your bright eyes looking up at him with that same softness Jons always been addicted too, he felt not a distrustful bone in his body towards you. Pulling your head only close enough to press a kiss to as he muttered by your ear, “He likes being carried by you more then me.”

Brows narrowing, with almost a light protest you shook your head slightly at him. “That's not true, Jon.”

“No?” Another kiss, tugging you closer into his side. “Next time we all stop, we'll test that, alright?” Your head jolted back a bit in what was the closest to amusement you had in a huff all day thus far, but you agreed with a nod. No he too thought, Yara had not a clue what you both were. Jon just needed to remind you of that too. The last thing he wanted was for you to fear he'd ever betray you like that, or even have eyes for a woman not you.

The men in your family did not provide a stable history of mens loyalty to their wives, Jon knew. So he needed to remind you that you were also his family. And now more then ever did Jon know, the men in his family were indeed loyal to those they were promised too.

Jon couldn't afford to let you get worse out here, he needed to get you home where you all belonged in order to properly give you the love you needed reminding was permanent. You were a drug to Jon, and one which it's potency would never lessen in any strength no matter how much he stayed with it.

Nights were easier, you weren't sure why. But they were.

Sitting by where Bran had comfortably propped up against for the evening close to the fire, he seemed always eager to have a chance at being allowed to just hold his nephew. Both of you speaking low, but the fog always in your head still seemed to clear more as the sun went down. You tried not to think how much Jon was incapable of looking away from you where he stood to the side of the small camp site with Benjen.

“It'll be easier to explain, or show you when we get to Winterfell. I promise, it's not that simple to put into words.”

Nodding with a small smile, you let your hand drift to mindlessly pull up the layers covering the baby, pulling a subsequent laugh from Bran. “What?”

As much as had tormented both of you for years, something inside you felt utterly relieved that you still could look at Bran and see the boy come out easily. His eyes had not let lost the light so much harm had stolen from many. “It's new, seeing you this way.” Mentioning he had been old enough to see you with Rickon as a baby, it was not unlike if someone would bring Shireen up to you. It went unspoken, but no blame came from his side when he switched his focus back to his original point. “Seeing you help with my brother isn't the same as seeing you as a mother.”

Your mindlessly gentle touches to the settled Eddard only stopped long enough for a noise to erupt from him as it to ask you to continue to run your hand over the top of his head. A smile brought out of you in an instant with a breath of a laugh. “It's odd being one. For a long time I thought I lost my only chance.” Bran protesting that he didn't mean it was odd, but you again laughed, albeit a little less meeting your eyes that time. “I know you didn't. But it doesn't make that false.”

Meeting his young gaze, yours softened away any duress in your own eyes. It was easy with Bran, no matter what had changed he was still the sweet boy you've known his whole life. Inhaling deeply, Bran looked up to Jon. You couldn't see, but the brothers both met eyes and Bran could not help but try and convey a lot to the blatant worry on Jons. Benjen too picked it up, purposely pulling Jon back to the conversation at hand, despite how often he kept looking over.

You took no notice, the smile on your lips growing as the baby tried to loosen his swaddle to grab at your hand. You had to fix the fur around him to keep him contained, but allowed him to grab at your hand, or moreso the only finger he could even pretend to grasp properly without looking away from eyes that looked so close to yours and Jons both.

What came out next however, was nothing close to the thoughts in which occupied your head beforehand. “You were the one in my dreams- visions, whatever we're calling them. But early on I'd see a boy almost watching whatever was happening trying to speak to me but when I came back I could never remember them.” He hadn't said anything, and so you prompted him properly. “Why?”

Opening his mouth, as if no time passed you dryly continued, “And don't say anything purposely cryptic like I was not in the right mind to accept it was you.”

Trying to withhold a small laugh himself, Bran looked away before meeting your eyes finding only a patience unlike the judgment which he seemed to have been expecting. More then once he seemed to attempt find the right words before settling on a quiet tone not meeting your gaze once more. “I didn't know I was doing it at first. I was trying to see if I could find anyone. Like the way Jojen found me in my dreams, I didn't know it would be so strong trying it with you.”

Swallowing roughly, you dared not imagine the charred black bones as you looked down to the baby. “That night..the dragon..the Targaryean girl. It felt like I was in someone elses head.”

“You were.” Meeting his eyes, Bran back tracked a little. “I told you, it's not easy to explain. I have to show you for you to understand.” Asking if that included what happened to cause him to come find you and Jon, Bran looked as if a grieving sorrow too hit him. “We all need to get to Winterfell first. He can't find us there.”

Hesitating, you almost weren't sure if you wanted to ask. “What does any of this have to do with Euron Greyjoy?” If Bran was going to answer, it was Yara who spoke up first. Coming up behind suddenly, she stood to your side as she spoke only to crouch down to meet more the height you met Bran at previously.

“He says you have some great power. That he wants you by his side because he's powerful, and you can give him even more.” You didn't want to consider it, how much more and more it was sounding like Euron was mixing with another who sounded much like that. “But the boy is right, you'll be safe in Winterfell. As long as where you are doesn't have a ship port nearby, that's as safe as you can get from my Uncle.”

First it was Brans eyes you met, then down to the babies, but turning to look at her your head continued as you spun around to realize it. What had been kept from you. Who this person was and only did her first name finally click. “You're Theons-”

“Sister.” Finishing for you, you nearly plucked the baby from Brans arms and moved away from her, but all of you stayed right where you were as she confessed, and in a rather honest almost guilty tone it appeared. “He sent us to take you to him, and then he sent his own men to finish the job hoping your King in the North back there would kill us first.”

It came much more out like distrust, but everything Ramsay had done to Theon and they never came for him. He had to risk his own life to run with you to escape when he had the Iron Islands which should have protected him. “Why would Euron hope for that?”

Turning, Yara sat not quite by Bran but on the wood serving as the seat propping his torso up comfortably. Elbows resting on her knees as her hands clasped together, face twisting as she debated words in her head trying to say them out loud for what seemed to be the first time. “You know what a Kingsmoot is?” Nodding your head yes, she ignored any of Brans reaction much to your dismay. “Well, I almost won it. Then Euron showed up, made a number of terrifying threats and promises and he knows if I didn't serve him then I'd oppose him. So, likely he expected the hot head over there to murder me and my uncle before we killed him.”

Breathless as your heart begun to pick up, you asked with wider eyes, “How did he know where to tell you to find us?” When she said he gave specific geographical directions, you felt no better. No, you felt a wave of dizzy rush through you as that racing heart turned to a painful pounding. Too much was going on around you now, everything was closing in on the North one way or another and you felt prepared for none of it.

Pushing up suddenly, that dizzy feeling suddenly waved over you like none other. Disorienting you as you could see him in your mind perfectly, but none of it made sense. Without any acknowledgement of other voices, you found yourself walking off into a direction without care of what was behind you. You needed air, you needed silence and you needed the cold to sting your lungs as you found yourself in a middle spot of nowhere only surrounded by trees.

Nothing illuminated your sights but the moon in the sky reflecting against the snow, but the remainder of the world spun. Eyes fluttering closed at the sensation, you crouched down to the ground squeezing them shut purposely to block out everything else trying to gain your focus. Bran, Euron, Bloodraven, crows and the sight it all spun a tale which you had no right being in and yet the reason most of this group were here was beacuse of you.

This wasn't what you wanted, returning back to the living you never wanted to be the centre of a single thing. Everyone else had a part to play so much more important, but yet here you were. Spinning in your mind, why would this all connect, how did you fall into the middle of it? Your visions and dreams once you saw Bran, then a crow and a raven and you knew one but not the other. The stranger- Euron, never spoke of a boy at all as if he didn't know about him.

Hands covering your face, your exhale was shaking. You had to pull it together, you knew. One thing at a time or else you were threatening to drown yourself. You could not afford to care what Euron wanted with you, not now. Rising your head from your palms, you ignored the sensation of watering possibly having slid down your face. Trying to steel your expression with each attempt of a deep breathe.

What was right in front of you? The answer was simple. He wanted you, not any else. Send men to take you, sent men to kill Jon, and you had no doubt were he to find you all know, he'd kill the baby too. So the solution was simple. Forget the rest plaguing your mind, get south of the Wall, get to Winterfell. Whatever he wanted with you, he couldn't go through them to do so.

Pushing up to your feet, wiping the remainder of tears away as the panic left your heart, the feeling creeping at the back of your neck rose up, only this time you had no weapon to brandish and the approaching figure remained a foot or two out of reach to prevent if you had. Eyes wide as you looked over Benjen, as he did with more of a narrow eyes concern as you let the nerves inside deflate a little bit.

“Jon seems to think you're rather good at running off out of nowhere.”

Inhaling a bit, the words heavy in your throat to push down the residual panic into something a bit strained but far more controlled. “Consider it the result of spending most of your life always doing what you were told.” Approaching more, your eyes glanced around behind him, none had followed.

Benjen picked up on it with ease. “I told the others to stay put. The last thing an emotional person needs is to be surrounded with other equally as emotional people.” Glancing away, your eyes almost rolling up a bit to indicate you understood his position. Wrapping your arms around yourself under the cloak you stood waiting for him to speak again. “I know this is all overwhelming.”

Raising an eyebrow without looking to him, you were rather dry about it. “Do you?”

Nodding, he breached the gap properly. Tone low without the return of attitude your exhausted state gave him. “For years, I thought I was the only one out here trying to figure this all out. Years, I thought that. Been all over the place, and everytime I learned something new I thought it couldn't get any more overwhelming. But it did.” Glancing up properly, your eyes did not paint as off putting a presence as your body language surely spoke. “And on top of all that, the family I never thought I'd see again, dead. Almost all of them dead. I thought I left everyone behind to save them, and they died before I could learn how to protect them from something they didn't even know was coming.”

For a moment, only a moment did you see it. The face, the eyes, the low tones serious but not mean. The only sibling he had left, and he only died months after parting ways. Blinking the remainder of the dizzy feeling away, you almost begun to look down more towards the ground in guilt. “It..it's almost strange. Like nothing has ever been right after the Lannisters took his head.”

Neither needed say who you were speaking of. But Benjen's brows furrowed as he looked down, hiding whatever he wished to keep internal, but you continued. “Your family should have all been together, handle this without having lost one another but it feels as if there's so few left we're all just scattered trying to fight what's too big for so few people.”

“How do you think the Nights Watch has felt for a long time?” A huff of a laugh came first from you, then stronger from him. “Do you remember why Bran and Meera went to find Jon and I went looking for you, instead of my nephew?” Shaking your head, Benjens answer as as passive sounding as it was unexpected. “The same thing Jon was scared of. What happened to Lyanna happening to you.” Asking gently what he was getting at, Benjen paused. Worried in your mind you came off as rude, but again he only laughed. “What?”

“I can see why my brother always wanted to keep you around, he never liked when people beat around the bush either.” The smile gracing your features was faint, but there. Such a thing was true, serving as Ned Starks ward for half of your life had certainly proven beneficial, when he needn't train you to prepare how he approached the world. “Everything closed in on my sister by the end because one mad man decided to make his grand vision all based around taking her for himself. You don't have to like that Eurons made this about you, but you have to understand it from our point of view. Each time you pull away, you're making the rest of us worry if we're about to watch it happen all over again. And I don't think Jon could handle losing you now.”

Benjen waited patiently for you to let such details sink into your mind. Not noticing the approaching footsteps somewhat in the distance behind him as your hand came up to nervously tap your nails at your lip for a moment trying to consider your words. Sometimes you hardly noticed, how easily you found yourself slipping back into the words as if he were right there. “When I married Robb, Lord Stark told me that I was one of you now, and the Starks all protect each other.” Benjen nodded but let you come to it on your own. “I suppose that hadn't quite kicked in yet, in my mind. That loyalty to your family means something very different then it did in mine.”

“You and Jon came out here to risk your lives to protect your people, so let the rest of us pay that back by protecting you. Where none of us had the chance to protect her. I'm not saying what you've been through is easy, but it'll be far easier to just let other people protect you instead of worrying it makes you selfish.”

The voice from the distance however, was a little less comforting as it cut through the end of Benjens statement. “She's pretty bad at that.” Not quite light enough you could read Jons eyes from where you stood, but he seemed to have been leaning against the tree behind his uncle for some time. Arms crossed as his muscles seemed loose as if having stood back calm for a while. Making eye contact with his uncle, something unreadable passed. “I want a moment alone with her.”

Just as the Starks were though, they knew when to be serious and when the tense air required a reprieve. “You're King now, no arguing with a King.” Jon mustering only half a smirk as the two wolves passed the other. A hand braced on Jons shoulder, one wide eyed looking to his uncle as something either unspoken was shared or just that you could not hear.

It was not until Benjens footsteps finally crossed the barrier of audible when Jon slowly made his way over to you. Instead though of whatever he may have come to say at first, he seemed to have changed his mind as he got within merely a few feet. Holding a hand out to beckon you to come closer to him, the moment you slowly rose it to grasp his, Jon wasted not a second more pulling you firmly into his front.

Your arms wrapped around him almost faster then his could yours. A hand bracing against the back of your head to hide you within his neck as he leaned down to rest against your head with the side of his. A gentle rasp in your ear passing as he felt you holding back, “I want you to listen to me when I say this. You're an idiot.”

The laugh that burst from you pulled a big grin from Jon you could feel in your hair. A shaking voice no longer with a shred of devastation which seemed so inevitable earlier. “Thanks, Snow. Really making a girl feel special.”

Chuckling deep, Jon pulled you closer into his front more to keep you shielded from the rest of the empty forest around. “I've never met anyone as good at deluding herself into thinking no one wants her then you are.”

“I have a knack for it.”

Pulling back enough, Jon let a hand leave your hair to tilt you up by your cheek to meet his bright eyes shining down to you. “I know none of this is easy for you. All your life you were told this is why you're here and now that you've actually done that, all those horrible people whispering in your ear have lied to you enough it's manipulated you into believing it.”

A gentle whisper as your hands drifted to rest along the fur against his torso. “I know you love me, I do-”

The hand on your cheek drifted, running through the loose strands by the side of your head. “But something inside of you keeps lying to you and saying I don't. Yara and Meera both said their mothers went through something like this.” Brows narrowing in confusion, Jon was as gentle with his words as he was keeping you close to him without care. “After they gave birth, they said something in their mothers was wrong. They weren't themselves, always sad, they didn't think they were good enough. Neither know if it even has a name, but this isn't you. Everything pushing you away isn't really you. Whatever your worrying I think, it's not true.”

Biting your tongue, there was not a hint of a lie or facade anywhere in Jons eyes. Nothing but a love that could crush you if you let it, which sometimes, you wondered if such an option was the right one in fact. Fingertips toying with the material under them as if to distract, you forced the words to put themselves together. “I never meant for you to feel like I didn't trust you, or doubted you or how you feel. But after everything..it started to feel impossible to forget what everyone would tell me growing up.”

Cupping both your cheeks, Jon drew you up closer as he leaned down to nudge his nose gently against yours. “You brought me back to life, darling. If either of us is stuck with the other, you're the one stuck me with me.”

A skip in your heart followed with a beat passing before you found any words, not eyes closed feeling so warm close to him. “I'm sorry I was-”

Muttering close enough you felt his breath dance across your skin as he continued to brush your noses against one another. “Stop being sorry for things, for once in your life. Alright?” Only a hint of a smile was felt so close to you, but your nod was enough, just for now. Everything had fallen apart in hours only days ago, but you knew you never gave yourself a chance to process a second of it.

Of almost truly losing them, and them losing you. The world kept testing you, and thus far Jon and yourself have stayed in the others arms despite being tore apart too many times to count, this was just another one of those times. With more unnatural variables thrown in the mixture, but if you thought about it, death had already fallen upon both of you. What else could possible top that by now?

Leaning without any more patience, Jon for what you think was the first time since being torn apart, pressed his lips properly to yours without anything to hold back. Your hands moving to wrap around his shoulders and back of his neck, Jons grip on your cheeks and jaw was firm and unrelenting as guided your lips to follow along the demands of his soft ones.

Gentle as each single kiss did Jon deepen it only just the slightest. Easing you back into his touch, and moving to cup the back of your head, keeping you pressed to his lips and the other wrapping around your back to pull your front close to his. Brushing his tongue along your bottom lip, you parted right away, his tongue gliding into your mouth to let his tongue taste along yours. Yet it never felt between you as if he was demanding what you couldn't give.

Almost prompting you to explore him the way he loved doing to you, and patient as you were shyer and more hesitant of being so brazen with your own kiss. Breath leaving your lungs but you did not wish to say anything, not being prepared to feel anything but such soft lips against yours.

One kiss, then another, then one deeper one before the issue was far more Jon unable to pull away from your lips then anything else. Tearing himself from you, your lungs almost begging for air as the strands of saliva between you barley snapped before he turned your head down to leave a more firm kiss to your forehead. Resting his against yours, Jon only pulled you comfortably into his front, as you arms held him as tight as he held you tenderly.

Rasping roughly, his warm breathe meeting your skin as he spoke. “This is what we're going to do. Until I get you home, all that matters if you and the baby. Everything that's happened, even Euron, none of that matters as long as you're out here. We get you and our son home, make sure you're alright, and only then do we start thinking about the rest of it.”

Nodding, you leaned up, wrapping your hands more around the back of his neck, as Jon returned your kiss with as much deepening passion as it could take to steal your breathe once more for himself. Hardly able to pull away enough to speak it, “I love you.”

Jon smiled partially into the kiss, his lips harsh and firm before pulling back again to look at you. Grey eyes bright as his smile. “I love you.” Only a moment passed before in a much lighter tone did Jon trail off into something more on the air of amused. “I don't want to be pushy, darling, but unfortunately for you, our son has my appetite.”

Eyes shining bright towards his, you muttered, “Oh I am well aware of that.”

Jon knew he'd need to keep an eye on you the next number of days until he got you home, but at this point, he knew being overprotective of you was second nature for him. It did strike both of you though, looking up to him from the side as he guided you back asking, “What are we going to tell everyone when we return after six months with a newborn?”

Pulling you more into his side, Jon muttered into your ear, grinning as you breathed out a flustered laugh in response. “I think they're all well aware of how often I interrupt my day to sink deep inside of you. They'll put it together.” You were beginning to think flustering you was Jons preferred past time by now.

“Are you purposely being stubborn?”

Raising your eyes up to look at Jon, you widened them only to make eye contact with the baby, leaning in with an exaggerated whisper towards him, “Now that could be been directed at either of us.”

Shaking his head with a concealed smirk dancing still in his eyes, Jon came to your side. A hand pulling your head closer to his lips to press against you, muttering with an amusement both of you were aware you'd pick up on. “If he's anywhere near as stubborn as you, I'm going to have my work cut out for me.” A laugh left you, trying to go back to little Eddard not wishing to cooperate with being swaddled once more after being brought to the side of the camp to clean. The hand of Jons not lingering on your spine reached over, gloved fingertips almost dancing playfully across his torso as the baby almost moved too much in his little laughter.

Learning your head somewhat towards Jon from the side you muttered, “You are not helping the matter, you know.” Instead of replying, Jon crouched down to be able to see the baby more at his eye level, leaning forward as he pulled his hand away only long enough to pull his glove off. Running his hand over his head gently as you realized he was distracting him for your ease.

Moving quickly with your own work, Jon leaned in to further keep the babys attention. “We both love you, but stop making things difficult on your mother. She does that enough by herself.” You didn't look up to notice if Jon spotted your barley hidden smirk, but he let himself have a much brighter one, only growing tenfold as he caught his sons gaze again. Leaning forward more to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head, it gave you just the right amount of time to capture the babys waving arms to finally keep him nice and warm as you wrapped the fur once yours around him properly as his usual final bundling layer.

“Thank you.” Jon, only moved to then close the gap between his lips and yours. Cupping the back of your neck with but a firm kiss together, hardly getting anywhere as suddenly a sound almost like a protest came from the baby. If such a small, so very young newborn could frown just like Jon, the baby was managing it. “Come here, silly boy.”

Picking the bundle up, you kept him close to your front as Jon helped you stand. Muttering lowly with his free hand running along the where his back would be if not hidden by so many layers. “He's fighting me for your attention, I'm telling you.”

Rolling your eyes jestingly, you only gazed back up at him with something softer then the days before. Bright was his eyes but so were yours, somewhat asking for something you weren't sure of yet, but Jon was a translator of your needs. Leaning in again to nudge your nose with his as you whispered, “And whose fault would that be? His rather shy mother, or his possessive wolf father.”

The hand on your back slid down to your waist, sneaking under the cloak to pinch at you as you nearly jumped close in his arms as a startle. Adjusting the grip to then pull you closer, he pressed a kiss to the top of the babys head and then grasped your chin, guiding you to meet his once more. And just as it seemed Jon was testing him, as once again little Eddard made a sound as if wanting him to stop. “You need to share her sometimes. I have to put another baby inside her eventually, give you your sister.”

Flustered and wide eyed you looked around. “Jon.” Laughing lightly he pointed out no one was listening when you nodded down to the baby. “He does not need to know these things.”

“He can't understand that yet. We have years before he learns how that all works. Well over a decade if we're going by your standards.” Your mouth fell open, walking directly into the trap he set out as you called his name. The laugh instantly from deep within gave away how easily Jon would set you up for such a reaction.

Moving back towards the main group, Jon clarified, “You sure you're alright with me carrying him in the afternoon?”

Nodding, you had become quite used to the baby being wrapped up and strapped safe to your front, but you also knew two things, you truly wanted to see Jon holding his son as much as possible with your own eyes, and never would you want to carry him alone and never give father and son time together alone. “I'll likely have to feed him twice, you should have him after since he won't be as fussy if he doesn't need to be passed back and forth.”

The area you all had stopped by was for all other aspects, quite calm. The forest pushed right up to the edge of the cliff side. Not tall as the mountains of months before, but enough one with a fear of heights would be woozy next too. The lands moving up an incline from the rooting river paths stemming off of the gorge. A few miles up ahead according to Jon and Benjen both was where the river ended, pooling into a lake just beside the edge of a village.

You remembered most of this area, the villages Jon had led you through the first days into this journey months ago, you had went through a good number of villages that had been abandoned by even the first time Jon had passed through them. It was almost a little bit comforting, no longer feeling entirely reliant on the path of others, you knew it was essentially a straight shot from here to Castle Black. Around an hour if you continue directly forward through the remainder of the forest.

The only reason you had stopped, was to go over the plans of what would happen when getting there right away. Likely it should not have surprised you when Benjen was the first to put forward that regardless of what has occurred out here, for the babys health and yours, Jon should push forward and make the final stretch to Winterfell, and get you to properly be seen by a maester who would be more familiar with complicated childbirth and early born infants then Maester Aemon.

Still only Jon had been the singular one there who knew, and he forced that feeling to be shoved right back down his throat as soon as it came up. But it was for more reason then one, and it was the second he shared with his uncle. “I don't know whose there now, Maester Aemon..he passed.”

Both elder Starks knew the man well in their own ways, and Jon appreciated someone else who would understand even a little bit of the feeling. Brows narrowing on his face, Benjen spoke with a calm but a weight behind that told of much respect. “When was this?”

Trying to consider what Sam had told him when they reunited, the information much more detailed then when it was from a raven passing such information on. “I sent him with Sam, a brother who worked with him, to Oldtown. They stopped at a port in Bravvos and, he was too ill to survive the journey. I don't know who is there now.”

Nodding, Benjen much like Jon kept whatever thoughts he had to himself over the matter. Sticking much to the main facts in front of them. “Well, either way getting them home is more important right now. I imagine a few will be surprised to see me, I'll stay back and catch them all up on certain things and meet you in Winterfell later.”

The knowing look between them rather similar, “Would be easier to explain certain things to everyone the more people they hear it from, likely.”

Walking along closer to the ridge by the rushing river below, it took some getting used to out here when the baby wasn't being carried by you in anyway. To your left sat a thick brush of trees hardly able to be seen through, least of all at the corner of your vision. Eyes trained into the sight across the way, squinting in the colder wind as you begun to kneel down.

Pulling the cloak off, you hauled it in front of you. Using the quiet to simply adjust the pin keeping it open to something a looser now that you'd be taking the baby back to push the final way. You would blame it on one thing or another, but you knew in truth, you had simply let your guard down. But from the dark trees beyond did something you did not expect to be so close creep forward. Neither did you look down to see either what had been climbing its way up, almost in stealth.

As if you were the target much as you had been that day in the Nightfort. Two people in the room and three went for you. With two direwolves up ahead scouting any danger in front, it was what came following behind which was to watch for. This time, there were six of you, but they went for you just the same.

It reached up from where none knew it was there. Only the sound of gravel and small rocks shifting by, you put the cloak down in a moment of curiosity. Cold and strong, it reached from beyond. Surging up with an inhuman sound, grabbing you one hand yanking at your hair and the other to your wrist before both pulled before you could stop it.

Whoever called out to you was heard none as the sudden sounds so close on you took over, your bare hands clawing at the sides of the rocks. Skin tearing in a bloodying pain as you tried to hold on while also trying to knock the wight from your back, but the hand in your hair slammed yours against the same wall.

The thing was, you could not pick up the sounds of those above, only what too followed. One at the rivers edge climbing with a weapon in its mouth, another stalking along the edge coming from the dark trees beyond. The dagger strapped to your ankle was useless as trapped as it had you.

The moment it happened though, who did what was too, the unexpected. A matter of who was closest, it happened to be in fact the one who understood the least about it all. If one had asked why she moved so fast, Yara at the moment wouldn't have had an answer, she just did. Knocking her to the ground from the side, she had but a single moment to recall needing the dagger Jon had given to her.

The wight snatching one wrist, and the other being pushed back by her with a strain fighting against what looked like an intent to claw her eyes out. Thrusting her head up she tried only managed to push it back before finding herself covered in a blood black and thick as she shoved the blade into the neck of the growling creature. Tossing it with a strain to down below only to find herself in the yanking grasp of one coming for you, now with a new target. You were far lower being dragged either down to the one ascending or taken by the one you couldn't even hear the chaos above against.

Sounds overwhelming in your ear did you try to throw your head back to force it off but its grip was tight and already did you feel it tearing into your skin where it had held you. Suddenly being nearly thrown back, you found yourself being snatched by a hand against your more blood covered arm by Yara, too holding on herself. It only fell as back down as somewhat below, yanking you with its grip the moment Yara tried pulling you up.

Jon only just having given the baby to Bran, did he narrowly miss grasping Yaras hand as her grip nearly lost. But in his desperation as the fear arose did he look passed her to the one clawing its way back up to you and another heading for neither him nor Yara but you as well, and you knew it. Strain meeting his gaze with your muscles shaking in pain, only seconds did you three have to come up with a plan.

Only, you felt one of its hands trying to tear at your leg, digging into your knee and reopening the healing wound from the last they had come in a cry in pain. Looking up to Yara, her own hold on you as strained as the one she and Jon struggled to keep. Jon sensed it, knowing exactly what you were about to do. Nearly growling your name out not to, but your faced again twisted as you felt as if your knee was being torn to shreds by its nails sharp as claws clutching on.

“Get him to the Wall,” He tried warning you in name but you shouted more. “Jon, get him to the Wall- please.”

But as Jon you knew saw the panic, you for only a second too found Yaras gaze. Instead though, her grip on you tightened as she gave but a nod. You did not grasp why she wasn't saving herself, but you didn't question it. Jons voice calling to your once more, “I'm not-”

“Yes, you are.” You didn't have the time to assure him, either they got you and it would all be over now, or they all stayed here as more could gather. This could have even been a trap, and Jon knew as well as you did what would happen should they come with the baby out in the open. Three grips let go, yours of what remained clawing at the rocks against your front, Yaras purposely letting go of Jons and him failing to catch hers once she let it go, but with a yell of your name as if faded.

The only grip that did not let go, was hers to yours as without any further doubt did the sudden fall get crash landed roughly with the sting all around of frozen water. Filling your sense as you knew not which way in the running river did you even land.

What was up and down you didn't know only that you found your self free to kick against the wight still ahold of you. Air leaving your lungs as you felt it tear at your skin one last time as it flew as disoriented in the rushing water as you were. Either they would kill you, kill Yara, or more would come and try to kill the others, Jon and even worse, the cold wind may come and take the baby too.

Letting go into the freezing river was a risk, but one which meant certain it gave the others time to go, get to the Wall, get to safety, and that was what mattered. Not the filling of cold in your lungs as the violence of water gave no mercy to those within its stream.

“I'm not leaving her out here,”

Jon could not ascertain if the others were rather calm for what had occurred, or if his senses were burning to such an angering degree that anything lower then the shaking in his very veins had felt like too little of a reaction. Benjen failing to bring him down any level, his words only making Jon feel even worse the longer he stood here. “Jon, listen to me. No one is leaving her behind, but we need to go before more may make their way here.” Not bothering to listen Jon gathering his weapons to him without second thought, Benjen continuing to talk to a wall. “She is giving us a head start, to protect the baby.”

Not looking up, Jon continued to move, strapping Longclaw firmly around him as he nearly growled out against his heart racing. “Then get him to Castle Black, but I'm not leaving her out here.”

Bran was silent as Meera tried her hand next. “You're his father he needs you.”

“And he needs his mother.” And Jon in his heart added that he needed you too. Son and father both needed you and Jon could not fathom getting to Castle Black without you, not knowing if you were alright to even make it back. He didn't leave you behind once he wasn't starting now.

“She's giving you a chance to get your son somewhere safe.” Turning to look at him, being held still by Bran, it was the only thing which gave Jon reason to pause. Closing the gap, Jon knelt down to take Eddard for a moment. Wide green eyes looking up so brightly as if he didn't know his mother was gone all over again, but too in those eyes did Jon see yours.

It wasn't doubt or defeat, but something begging for him to trust you. You had worried so long that you had lost his trust, and now before letting yourself fall into the freezing river to keep the Wights away from them all, he felt a wave of guilt. Eyes closing he stood now carrying the baby free in his arms, he too had promised his son they'd keep you safe. But you were too keeping them safe.

Meeting Brans eyes, he too was asking something with such similar worry as it was trust. “I'll go.” Quietly calling his name, Bran shook his head. “Summer is out there with Ghost. I can go out there, and we'll find her and get her back here. Uncle Benjen and I are his family, but you're his father. He needs you the most.”

Jon disagreed, he and his son needed you the most. But looking at his sons bright eyes, he did not return his grasp. Pulling him close to keep him warm at his front, Jon kept him close enough he could always feel even his breath against his skin for now.

Why did trusting you always have to test the weakest part of Jons need to have you close?

You could say one thing, coughing up water was far less unpleasant then whatever sick would come up at the peak of being with child. Stinging your lungs and as your torn knee sat rough against the rocks, the rest of you braced against the ground as you had pulled yourself up from the shores. Luckily, Yara was no better feet away.

Breath shaking as you looked up, the hint of a village long emptied of people in the distance, and the lake behind you from which the river deposited you, you were right in where it led. Begging your limbs to function, trying to stand only to hiss out as the material against your legs tore at the bleeding skin scratched right open as the wight tried to bring you down to him and his other kind. One foot braced up first, then another, you took far longer then you should've finding your stance upright.

“Where are we?” Head turning to the side, Yara had dragged herself up with less effort, as she walked over to you. Both of you now freezing as you were soaked head to toe.

Looking around, your legs shook trying to withhold buckling from one knee's pain. “One of the villages the Free Folk used to live in.” Asking with a shortness what that was, you inhaled mostly to not react with the same tone only because the past moments were too much for your patience. “The wildlings. Some used to live here, it's only a few hours from Castle Black.”

Coming to your side, her eyes looked over your person as you continued to ignore the pain. “How did you know this was where the river led?”

Glancing only for a beat, you turned back with another hiss the moment you attempted to move. “I've looked at a map before.” Not bothering to witness the glare, you took a step as the pain shooting through your calf up to your knee was as if it would rupture the wrong step. Asking how your leg was, a diminished patience had come out that time with less resolve to keep yourself proper. “Better then ever, Greyjoy.”

The feeling of an arm coming to your side had you side stepping from her as you knelt to one side a bit as your knee screamed at you. Asking what she was doing, it was her turn to look at you if you were the slow one. “Helping you walk, since you can't even stand.”

The glare returned as pretty as before. “What does it look like I'm doing?”

Cocking an eyebrow, the audacity to smirk looking you over once again came over Yara as did a smug tone you had not felt for over a decade. “You look like you're going to fall over the moment you walk six steps.”

You did not move to prove her wrong, and her smirk increased. Cursed you were, looking up to the clouds hiding any sun with your eyes fluttering closed. You were cursed to endure the Greyjoys in every capacity which tested your willingness to cooperate as raised to be. Muttering under your breath, knowing she could hear your eyes narrowed at the nothing you looked at. “I thank you for your help back there, but I can't say I see great appeal in relying on you to walk south east over the course of multiple hours.”

One limb, then another, Yara's speed matched with more of such attitude you despised. “Yes, you're doing so well.” Praise sounded horrid coming from her condescension then it did Jons genuity. In the silence did you bite down on your tongue as the pain grew more as did your shivering, but you walked beside her not willing to see the expression. Her words spoke that for you. “You and him are made for each other, both the most ungrateful cunts I've ever met.”

A burning rose in your veins to lash out, but resisting was what you had to do. You would not yet put it passed Yara to respond to a petty jab by kicking your knee in and leaving you here. Stopping in place you looked over to her, the shivering both still within your bones did not help, but trust did not come easy towards her family. Only one, and you had yet to wonder if she even knew of his fate once being abandoned to the Boltons. But, it was not the time for that either.

Jaw clenched roughly, you nodded as Yara wrapped an arm steady around you, leaning into her side as she could now do the heavier lifting for you each step. “Thank you.”

Yara made it rather easy to regret offering any polite words, raising her voice up to something far beyond a jest into a mocking you knew she could feel you tense towards. “At least you have more manners then your husband. And I thought giving you to Euron would mean you'd be married to an insufferable ass.”

That was meant to rile you up, and it would not be the last to be spat towards you nor the only time you'd withhold any words in return, but for the first little while, you limped and she walked in relative, teeth chattering silence.

Not a weapon left on either of you, you wondered if Yara was aware of the danger quite yet. Whatever she had seen before that evening was fraught compared to what was out here. Jon always ensured to stop before it grew dark, even with the shared weapons both of you could wield. Now was not the same assurance, somewhere no doubt the dragonglass on you both sunk to the bottom of the river, not a bow, nor knife only two women one unable to stand with ease on their own.

“Neither of you are particularly chatty, are you?” Yara read your silence at the bare minimum. Not waiting for a reply, in Greyjoy standards, she could talk to herself at you as long as it entertained her.

Most of any words spoken were short in reply, and if you were to be honest, your dwindling patience was growing more and more within the realm of spiteful irritation that she either did not grasp why you would not have interest in talking to her, or knew and did not care. But it was not your newest injuries alone which were the source of your pain.

No, such a reminder came in the general state you had existed in now for nearly seven days and the hands in which helped such problems fester. The woman nearly dragging you across the snow covered forest had not a clue what had brought you out here in the first place. Not any knowledge of what it took to get there, and what risk it was gaining the information Jon now had to make sense with the rest of it.

You had come out here for the only place left giving you answers, but still the world proved it was far more preoccupied with whatever games for power the people played amongst themselves. Yet worst of all, she and her men, orders or no, had ripped the only happiness you had found in this frozen land and never for a moment since had that peace and happiness come back to you as it should've.

Every now and again, you had caught yourself nearly turning to look at her from the side with nothing near a pleasant expression. “What?” Quiet sat heavy between you before she tried again, only louder. “You have something to say, then say it.”

Strong urges within you begged, implored to keep it to yourself. To not say it, but yet you did. It came out as if you were a child without a filter, either in words spoken aloud or even in an attitude any could detect. “It's strange is all, what you consider worthy of your loyalty.” Demanding what that was supposed to mean, you wished to hold it back.

But you knew better. You knew many truths now, and some did not connect as well as others, all of which did not feel good at any stage. “You're helping me now, but you came out here at Euron's orders to kill Jon and kidnap myself. I can't help but wonder why your own blood saw none of that even attempted towards him when he needed it most.”

Yara was quiet, and not with any reason you knew for. But her voice was a distant mutter, as if a fear existed that if heard in the air someplace other then her mind then she may have to deal with the consequences of it. But if no other hint was to be given, yourself and Yara knew too well who you were thinking of. “And you know more about it?” Humming in your throat, an edge sharpened along her own. “I doubt that. Those Boltons mutilated my brother, sent what they cut from him to us in a box.”

The pain in your body radiated into your heart, a pain long wished to see him move past. The way Theon sat outside the tub your own desecrated body was soaking in, the way neither of you could look as he spoke of it all. The taunts, forcing you into a nightmare of the making from the deepest of the seven hells and yet how Ramsay would look up, and mock him. Call him a name to strip him of his life and mock for what he could not force him to participate in.

She did not take your doubtful ire well, grip around you tightening inadvertently as she herself was working herself up more into something you knew she had no true grounds to stand on. “I tried to help him, what have you ever done for him? Have your precious King in the North kill the Boltons for him? Make him stay on and serve the same family who kept him hostage-”

Teeth gritting, your muscles begged to heal in an instant to turn on her for what she had no right to claim. “You wouldn't-” Heart floating in your chest as if dropped from a mountains edge, your eyes widened as your mouth parted slightly before turning to the side with your face twisting into a true mistrust. “What do you mean you tried to help him? By leaving him in the North while you sat in your home on Pyke?”

Whatever guilt she felt, you had suddenly wished she would drown in it. The manner in which she struggled to let any of it out before telling you what she had done, after receiving a mutilated piece of Theon from Ramsay. You held very little memory of it, perhaps the vague recollection of the bells tolling but muffled under a deeply disturbed hallucination through ill and fever. You had seen none of the Dreadfort beyond the courtyard and the halls in and out of the dungeon you existed in for months.

Yara explained that they had been taken to where Theon was, and what happened in that room. Only, the story ended the only manner which was possible. Theon was still there, and dragged to Winterfell with you eventually to which somehow, it only got worse as the torment was now shared as a joy for Ramsay to enact on both of you together.

Hounds. It was those bloody hounds that sent her away. And before you had thought of any words, nothing but disgust erupted inside of your system until it seethed in your eyes. Stopping in place, she almost stumbled noticing you had not continued with her. But as she tried to defend herself, she only dug herself a grave. “I did everything I could.” Turning to face you head on, you had not even blinked as she tried again, almost pleading for you to listen. “I tried to get him to come, he refused to listen to me.” Your eyes did not move nor did you breathe you were certain, nothing could even twitch unless it came out before you could contain what you could not finish. “It was my men against those hounds.”

Jaw twitching in her, but something devastated shared the space occupying your rage. You never knew this. She had come for him, but she left. Without him. And her final plea was her last as she tried to turn, imploring you to walk and finding an immovable force within your stance. “Theon wouldn't come with me, I couldn't risk losing my men and my life if he refused to come home. It isn't my fault.”

Unbeknownst to you however, your words were a repeat of her own history. Turning your body to face her she spun around the moment they passed your lips. “He's your brother.” The shame was growing and you only added onto it as she pleaded she had no other choice. “Theon is your brother, as he is mine and you left him to die.”

In her own mind, Yara felt a bit stunned. You looked at her with the same vitriol she had looked to her own father with. Yet she now was the one making the excuses he did for why they should leave Theon to die. Stammering a bit, she couldn't make eye contact as she attempted any way to pull herself from the grave she knew she had just flung herself into. “I would've died trying to get him out, I had to leave.”

Cutting right though it, the truth was harsh for her to hear and you said it with every intention for it to hurt inside. “Theon and I were both prisoners to them. And when we were dragged to Winterfell, Ramsay Bolton only begun to torture us together in brand new ways. I wanted to die. I was ready. I wouldn't have made it any longer before killing myself if it weren't for him.”

Would you have lived through the night had Theon not made a plan to get you out? You didn't even know if you could hold out until the sun rose with them any longer. And you told her why you did. Helping you escape, running from his men and those hounds. “He refused to leave me. I was a dead weight to him trying to escape and he never let me slow down until we found anything even resembling safety. He had the perfect chance to leave alone and start new, but he didn't leave me behind even though some days I still wonder if he should have.”

You didn't care the look on her face, what it meant or said. Shock or guilt, it didn't matter. She left him behind to die, and so Theon refused to do it for you. Her whisper was seeking a way to pick at your story but with no ability to meet your unblinking gaze, too intense for her to hold steadily. “If he was free then, why did he never come home?”

It hurt to hear, what you said. And for once, you were glad to be the one to deliver such sharp wounds to another. “Because he has a place here. He belongs in Winterfell. He's the closest thing to a true brother I have, and never for a moment did I let the things he did before effect how he was treated after. If he had a chance to go back to Pyke, then he never took it. But not because anyone was holding him back from it. He stayed because he's as much a Greyjoy as he is a Stark.”

Yara was his blood, but not his family. Such things were not the same. The Starks gave you family when yours never wanted to be one in whole. And it was the thing which kept the only family you thought you had left together, between you and Theon. You left knowing he was angry with you, because you did not want to tell him you may never come back. You didn't want him to think he had to watch you leave to what could be death. Because you didn't want to stand there after everything and hurt him more then he had getting there.

But abandoning him to his death? To save your own life? That was not the kind of man Eddard Stark raised Theon to be, unlike whatever Balon Greyjoy raised Yara to be now. She may have helped save you here, but she also almost took you away from Jon and your son. She knew nothing about truly protecting the ones you love.

Limping passed her, you did not withhold how your shoulder bumped roughly into hers. Each step producing an even worse wince when she turned to try and follow with a shout. “Are you just going to limp to the Wall, is that it? Lecture me and leave?”

Only a dry yell back you did not stop your slow but continuing pace to the ones you loved. “I know the path. I'll make it one way or another.” Yara begun to follow, raising her voice to you about just leaving her there and you shouted back only a little less dry and a tinge more tense. “Your feet work, follow me then. Or don't.”

Sometimes it surprised you, how quickly it was let out. Not often did it happen, but just when the right combination of things presented itself, did everything your father raise you to be go right out of the window. And in it's place the yell and the furious anger of a Baratheon just as Robert could take it's place, the second Yara grabbed your shoulder to make you stop. Turning in place you leaned more up to her face, as she clearly held no issue either with yelling. “You save my life once and suddenly it forgives trying to force me into a monsters hands, coming out here to kill the man I love, separate him and our son from me? Give me one reason why saving my life one single time means I shouldn't shove you right back into those waters and leave you to freeze in them.”

Her voice yelled right back as the sun went down around your spat. “You going to be the one to tell Theon you left his sister to die?” You came right back that you left him to die, her face twisting further into anger as yours narrowed in a seething despite the shouting from your burning lungs. “I did what I thought I had to do for my family-”

Were your body not weak and in pain, your shaking muscles may have been effective in anything other then making you feel dizzy as the pain in your head increased. “You have no clue what family truly means.”

“Keep interrupting me, Baratheon and I'll-”

Leaning in your yell dropped sudden as a waters drop. Down to a hissing in her face that she could even think to defend what she'd done. “You will what? Hit me? Kill me?” Holding your arms out, you took a painful step back. “Go right ahead, Greyjoy. Kill me and see who is left to side with you then. Get to the Wall and explain to Jon how you got angry and left the mother of his child to die. Go to Winterfell and defend it to Theon, see how much he appreciates what you do to protect your family.”

So little did fury flow through you but you would not bend for her. She was taller, stronger, and scarier but you had faced death and far worse then death. Whatever she could do was nothing compared to what blood had already been spilt in your nightmares.

The growling though? That came not from you nor her, and yet it increased suddenly until something snatched at Yaras clothes and yanked her back enough to throw her on the snowy ground. Splayed out did Ghost appear in front of you vicious and snarling as the equally as large and darker furred Summer get in her face as all anger in her bled away to fear.

Your senses returning from burning red as you had to shake yourself into the present, “Summer, stop-” Growling more did the direwolf lean into her face before turning on a dime to look at you. Stare unblinking and stern, but in comparison to Ghosts, you recognized the human in his eyes. Ghost was as he always was as a protector alone, but what you had learned to see in him was now seen in Summer. Limping forward a bit, your hand braced against Ghosts fur, easing up beside you you knelt down in a wince as the other came up to you.

Head tilting back as something amazed painted over you just as it had when you saw such a feat right on Jons face doing it, but now in the opposite manner. “Bran?” The wolf's head nodded, and you almost laughed. Whispering as you reached up to run your hand gently over his fur, “I suppose I shouldn't be surprised with you Starks. Is everyone alright?” A single nod as your heart nearly deflated in relief.

On the ground behind still you heard Yara with a shout, “What the fuck is going on with any of you people?” Ghost leaned closer to your pained figure as you looked over Bran in Summer's eyes.

He glanced up to the sky as did you to follow, the sun had little time left. Without looking to her, you shouted back only without the anger this time as your hand ran gently over Ghost beside you, comfort returning in some capacity to your heart. “We need to leave. We shouldn't be out here alone when the sun goes down.”

Forcing herself up, you could see from the top of your vision how much she did in the moment, remind you of Theon. Her high strung exasperated state in frustration muttering, “I hate this place.”

Eyes finding Ghosts, the direwolf's mind his own and yet it was just as warm as if Jon were beside you. One in the same they were, and even if Jon couldn't come for you as he wished, needing to protect the baby, Ghost was just as good, and just as something reminding you of home.

A few hours to the Wall, only a few hours. But you had to leave now, pain or no through your person, once the sun goes down, the white winds could come at anytime and there was no place to hide from them this far south here.

As four figures approached the Wall, the sound Jon once thought would be comforting to hear was only a reminder of what he still didn't have with him. Meera having switched places again to take over pulling the sledge carrying Bran. Benjen beside Jon now, his hand coming up to rest comfortingly on Jons shoulder not where little Eddard was being held while he rested, his uncle's words low. “She'll get here, Jon. He'll make sure of it.”

Looking to his brother, Jon finally realized what it looked like. Brans eyes a pure white, he had to trust that he and Ghost together could find you and get you back. In only two hours would the sky turn dark, and he feared what it would take to get you back once what comes in the night, comes crawling out looking for eyes to turn blue forever.

Looking down to the baby, Jon shushed him gently as he made a small cry at the volume of the horn, “We're almost home, I promise. We just need to get her back.” He trusted you and he trusted Bran, but his heart couldn't take being apart from you much longer. Desperately, he tried to hold back the sting in his eyes at how horribly the world kept tearing you apart from him, and now your son together.

The gate to Castle Black finally begun to open, but Jon felt sick at the thought of walking through it.

[skiitter]

For @katsitsiyo!

Prompt: Felassan's ghost coming back to haunt Solas while he's sad and pines for Inky.

Regret was a many layered thing, made all the more complex by the seemingly endless stream of his life. Solas wore his collection of contrition like ill-fitting armor; suited for the task, but never good enough to want for. Were it not for the momentous guilt at the part he played in every major tragedy of the past several thousand years, perhaps he'd be bold enough to shrug the weight from his archaic shoulders. As it stood, though, as immovable and implacable as he in the prison of his own design, Solas was a man haunted by the past. And sometimes, when he least desired it, those hauntings took shape and form enough to rub sea salt into the caverns of his wounds.

He stared out across the abyss, to the cliff's edge where Rook always stood. Not for the first time, certainly not for the last, he wished for her to appear, if only to better discern between the mundanity of his imprisonment. All those years alone had apparently dulled his capacity for loneliness.

"It's not Rook that you want to see, Solas." Felassan leaned casually against some ruined epitaph of a forgotten Evanuris.

"Nor is it you, Felassan." Of all the ghosts, Felassan was the most persistent, the most corporeal, such as it was possible in that betwixt place. Were he less prideful, perhaps Solas could appreciate the company his former friend inspired. Such as was his denser nature, however, he could be no less prideful, no matter the want.

"How long you lay at Mythal's side, ever the loyal lapdog," he replied. "And yet, it is a mortal elf that pushes you to break."

"Mythal--"

"Broke you as well, of course," Felassan faded into view just beside him. "But it was for her own selfish desires. This elf, this Lavellan, she breaks you in such a new and beautiful way."

Solas sighed, and closed his eyes.

"How long have you been at this, old friend?" he asked. "How long have you marshaled this crusade of revenge, of guilt, for actions forced from you out of love and devotion?" Felassan's voice was so casual for the venom within his words.

"You were not there, you do not know what it was like, the desperation we felt," Solas insisted. "We had no other choice. Mythal had--"

"Mythal took a spirit of wisdom and forced him to see the value in war. It is not her name that echoes through that wound you call a heart, Solas. You cannot lie to me, not here, not anymore."

"What would you have me say, Felassan? That I am flawed, that I have made mistakes, that it was foolish and cruel of me to take what I would never, ever be able to return?" Solas spat, just as poisonous, just as cold. "Ellana--Inquisitor Lavellan is another regret, same as all the rest."

Felassan's laugh echoed through the void, mocking him. "You cannot lie to yourself either, Fen'Harel. Were that the case, you'd have ripped the veil from this world without hesitation. You'd have slain those wicked siblings of yours and set loose upon the world all that is the powerful and the divine." He stepped out over the edge, and Solas opened his eyes. "You'd have granted her final request, that moment there, in the Crossroads. You are loyal to Mythal, Solas, because you are a wolf scratching at it's master's door begging to be fed."

Solas flinched, knowing the words even as they came.

"But you are in love with Ellana because you are a man on his knees, begging to be seen."

[whovianofmidgard]

WIP Not-Sunday

Was tagged by @dreamingthroughthenoise Thank you so much!

This one is from a continuation of Forbidden Prey titled The Wolf and the Sparrow. Here is reembodied Celegorm's thoughts on some unexpected guests.

Celegorm himself had been out back in the work shed tanning the hide of his latest kill when he heard Nerdanel cry out, a sound that was part surprise, shock even, and part heartwrenching wail. It took no time at all to come running to see what had upset his mother so, and halfway through the house he was bumping into his brothers' rushing about, having had the same idea as him. As a group they reached the main entrance where they could hear Nerdanel weeping amidst a litany of muffled words, and found both her and their father clinging to someone while a guest looked on. A mere glance at the guest had Celegorm recoiling, a low growl of defenciveness bubbling up from deep within his chest, and Curufin stepped beside him and placed a hand on his arm to hold him back. The person looked like an unholy amalgamation of that stuck up ass Turgon, and more distressingly, of otherwordly Lúthien. "Elrond!" Maedhros called out, his voice wet with emotion, and he went to embrace the Turgon-Lúthien abomination. "Atar," this Elrond said, mindbogglingly to Maedhros and tucked himself into the long arms of the eldest son of Fëanor. There was no way that Maedhros was actually the father of this... this person. He looked nothing like Celegorm's brother and all knew he would never beget children ever since he gave his heart to Fingon. If Celegorm was not so certain that this Elrond was somehow descended of Lúthien, he may have believed he was the blood of another one of his brothers who he had not seen in Ages... It was then that the hunter remembered the tale of the events following his own death. Of two little peredhil children being snatched up by his elder brothers in the aftermath of yet another Kinslaying. If after all that bloodshed this peredhel embracing his brother called Maedhros his father... "Atar, I found him. I brought Atya home," Elrond said, and indicated with his head where Nerdanel and Fëanor were crying and fussing over someone. If Elrond called Maedhros 'Atar', and Maedhros did not take the children alone, then that meant that 'Atya' was... The elf trapped between his parents' bodies looked a single harsh winter away from death. Terribly gaunt with hollow cheeks and dark sunken eyes. There was an attempt made to brush and braid his dark hair dashed through with silver strands, but it hung from his head limp and dull, and slightly greasy. The clothes swallowed his thin body whole, awkward and ill fitting, and he trembled like a leaf in the wind, eyes wide and wild glancing about him terrified. "Elrond... titta elenya," Maglor's voice came out in a frightened whisper. "My delusion... the ghosts have returned." "No, Atya, they are real this time," Elrond rushed to his side, and with Maedhros' help he pried Fëanor and Nerdanel off of Maglor's shaking frame. "We have come to see your family."

Tagging @thecoolblackwaves @meadowlarkx and @deadqueernoldor and anyone else who wants to do this

[pinkcannibal]

Are you comfortable writing a breeding/heat kink fic, by chance? Maybe a fem!student reader is some type of supernatural creature that experiences heat cycles that's triggered by the touch of a viable mate which happens to be Marilyn Thornhill who she has a massive crush on. Perhaps the reader gets permission to opt out of her classes because of her heat but feeling restless one night, reader goes out to Professor Thornhill's classroom when she thinks Marilyn won't be there to just soak in her mate's scent and presence but Marilyn walks in because she's feeling restless with worry for reader who has been exempt from classes because of some mysterious "illness" that no one will tell her what it is and the reader wouldn't answer the dorm room door when she went to check on her and she's just so worried but she sees the panicked reader just standing there in her classroom and she runs straight to her. And smut occurs.

If you're not comfortable writing this, it's totally ok! Just love your soft mommy!dom Marilyn Thornhill x desperate needy reader fics!

a/n ill be real with you this is my magnum opus. this is my first time writing heat cycles or anything alluding to breeding kink so be pls be kind im learning skdksd but its helping me flex my writing muscles. thanks for the request! hope you like! feedback means the world to me btw <3

-

title: soul-bound

pairings: marilyn thornhill x reader, (werewolf!femreader)

tw/warnings: heavy smut, heat cycles, soulmate dynamic, fingering, face riding, marking, slight breeding kink, praise kink, slight use of 'puppy' as a petname, slight strap idolisation, soft!dom marilyn thornhill, bottom!reader

word count: 5,180

-

Your heat cycle comes two weeks earlier than planned, and it throws you out of equilibrium almost immediately, so jarring and intense that when you wake up and turn in bed, shifting beneath the sheets; you gasp at the realisation. 

God, and you should be used to it by now, this comes with the territory of who you are. Werewolf heat cycles are so common at Nevermore there’s an entire sex-ed class about it, but jesus fuck does yours like to be irregular about it- and you can already tell it’s going to be intense.  

You sit up in bed, face flush at how your heart rate picks up and your stomach warms and your thighs press together – how when you breathe in everything is so fucking heightened its overwhelming.  

You can smell the trees outside, Yoko’s perfume on her clothes, the shower drain, the cool Summer air, the wooden floors of your dorm, the- 

Oh God. Fuck. Is that...? 

You're helpless to the whimper that comes out of you. 

You totally forgot Miss Thornhill visited you yesterday, gifting you another one of her plants with that knee weakening smile and adorable scrunch of her nose. An iris this time, purple and freshly tended to. You have to clamp your palm over your mouth and nose, because Marilyn’s scent is everywhere around it.  

It has you shutting your eyes, a whine begging to cry from your lips and it’s making you needy in a way you’ve never felt before, just her smell enough for you to feel that familiar submissive haze blanket your brain.  

Your eyes water, because there’s a particular type of cruel torture in having a mate you can never touch, or taste, or please. You need Marilyn’s approval, her hands, her voice; to fill every part of you until you feel whole again. And having that just out of reach? It makes you feel...fuck it makes you feel incomplete.  

You suddenly remember that time Enid confided in you about Wednesday, how being so close yet so far away from someone hurts. 

“It sucks knowing you’ll be a lone wolf forever. Trust me, I know.” 

You don’t realise how fast your breathing is, close to a pathetic type of pant, until your alarm goes off and you startle.  

You’re suddenly thankful Yoko has left already, you can’t imagine how awkward it would be to have a vampire witness this. How desperate you are, how just at the thought of Miss Thornhill has pheromones bleeding from you, something not even the strongest wolf could ignore.  

Jesus, you may as well have a neon sign pointed to your heart saying I need my mate to breed me so bad it’s pathetic. 

You decide right then and there, going to Marilyn’s class would be a death wish, you’d probably drop to your knees as soon as you saw her with your mouth open, begging for her fingers with wide doe eyes as you squirmed. And she’d look at you, she’d be so tender when she makes love to you and fucks you and tells you “You’re so pretty, sweet girl. Such a pretty pup for me, aren’t you?” 

Oh, god.  

The thought has slick rushing to your centre, and you blush so hard at the idea that you have to physically stop yourself from shaking. You whine, immediately grabbing your phone and opening your school emails. You submit a form to Principle Weems, explaining your situation as quickly as possible because your hands are sweating and shaking.  

As always, she’s incredibly understanding, receiving these kinds of forms every so often. You’re exempt from classes for the week duration of the cycle, and just knowing you still have five days of this is fucking torture.  

You know you can’t have the full satisfaction of Marilyn looking after you, breeding you (that thought makes you even wetter as you throb) but it’s worse to know you can’t even nest and ride out the wave of it in your mate's scent. You have nothing of Miss Thornhill’s besides the flower, and sometimes thoughts like these make you flush with shame. 

She doesn’t even know you feel this way, or that she is this to you. And fuck, would she even want you? Accept you? You can’t think of anything worse as a werewolf than the rejection from a mate, what do you do if presented with that? Who are you without them?  

Because sometimes you swear Miss Thornhill recognises the compatibility, you swear her head tilts and she breathes you subtly in when you smile at her and tuck your hair behind your ear. How she softens when you’re near, how sometimes when she passes by your desk and leans down to you, her hand finds your lower back protectively, like in her own way she was telling everyone in your life you’re hers. 

One time, you bumped into her at Jericho and she fixed her glasses and when she noticed it was you, she beamed, and you honest to god swooned at how happy she was to see you. And Marilyn’s hand squeezed your bicep in greeting, a little too intensely to be normal, and your eyes glazed over in utter devotion. 

The thoughts make you feel small, like you could cry, so you curl back under your covers and try and hang onto the lingering trace of her on the iris, squeezing your eyes shut with need. 

- 

It becomes downright unbearable on day three.  

Three days is all you could hack, it’s almost as if you’ve come down with a fever; you’re hot and feverish and panting, almost fucking bed ridden because of how bad it is. Having a mate who hasn’t claimed you is maddening, and you’re realising very quickly you don’t know how you’re going to survive more of this.  

Yoko couldn’t stay for long, opting to room with Divina for the week. You toss and turn and groan into the sheets, slamming your fists down against your mattress and feeling tears burn the back of your eyelids because you dreamt Marilyn kissed you, bit down on the space between your neck and shoulder and covered you in her scent.  

You can’t take it anymore.  

You get up, tossing on a sleep shirt and shorts hastily over your bralette and underwear. You blush, knowing this is pathetic and sad but maybe, just maybe, if you walk into her classroom it’ll help. Because the iris doesn’t do it anymore and you need something stronger, the submissive part of your werewolf brain is constantly just howling in need now.  

It’s almost midnight, and you hope with all of your heart her room is unlocked. 

When you make it to the conservatory, you try the handle and sigh in relief at it opening. You don’t have long to dwell on how pathetic you feel, because- 

The wave of calm that hits you takes your breath away. You stumble a little, catching yourself on a nearby desk and closing your eyes on a groan; you breathe in deep, the scent of Miss Thornhill overwhelms you, has your knees weak and heart beating from your chest. Fluttering your eyes open, you walk further in, to her desk and you bite your lip because her green coat is just there on her chair. 

You swallow thickly at how it all immediately has your chest yearning for her, when you reach out and grab the fabric you allow yourself a moment to feel guilty, and embarrassed, blushing the whole way down to your neck.  

Then you bring it up to your nose and inhale and- 

You whine, high pitched and like siren call.  

You shut your eyes immediately at everything of her flooding your senses. She smells earthy, like her plants and rain, but there is something underneath it that is so sweet; so distinct to the smell of a bonded mate. Marilyn’s is like liquorice, black liquorice, it’s heady and warm and makes you want to be good. The slick that gathers between your thighs is immediate, has you flushing with need and shifting on the spot.  

The switch is instant, and you realise fuck, oh god, maybe coming here wasn’t as smart as you thought.  

You drop into subspace like an anvil, scrunching up her coat in your fingers and closer against your nose and you collapse against her desk, leaning back against it. You’re shivering, you know, because your wolf is begging to be claimed, to be bred, to be looked after and held and marked by your mate. 

You don’t get a moment to calm it down before the conservatory doors open again.  

You startle, looking up, you lower the coat from your mouth and nose and have two seconds to register just who walked in.  

Marilyn shuts the door behind her, and you blush red across your cheeks caught like a deer in headlights when she turns.  

You have to hold yourself up on her desk with your free hand because now that she’s here you can’t- oh god you can’t breathe. And your body feels like it’s going to melt into the floor.  

The other woman jumps a little too, not expecting anyone as she places her hand to her chest and breathes out, shutting her eyes briefly.  

“God, you startled me, sweetie.” Marilyn chuckles slightly, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. It’s awfully late, why are you-” 

But Miss Thornhill’s gaze immediately shifts to concern, because your eyes are watering at her just being near you. The other woman mistakes your flushed cheeks and shaking body for fear, and it’s almost instant how she parts her lips in worry and rushes to you.  

You gasp, widening your eyes and pressing closer to the desk. You bite your lip to stop the desperate whimper wanting to escape. She takes your biceps in her hands, squeezes softly, and Marilyn ducks her head slightly and her hazel eyes are saying talk to me, please, and you are powerless to whatever she wants from you in this state.  

“Oh, dear. Honey.” She begins carefully, and you swoon at how protective she sounds. Marilyn reaches up and tucks a stray piece of your hair behind your ear and it opens the floodgates, you swallow thickly and choke as you try and speak.  

She’s so close. Any closer and you’re going to fall to your knees. Marilyn then briefly fixes her glasses in a rare display of bashfulness. “I just, well. I got so worried when you didn’t show up for class. It’s very uncharacteristic of you. Are you...are you okay?” 

“I-” You part your lips to answer, voice cracking on your desperation. Marilyn notices your reaction, softening.  

“I just, I’m s-sorry, I came here looking for you because, I...” You flounder for an excuse, and it’s then Miss Thornhill notices her coat clutched against your stomach.  

You flush, following her gaze as she parts her lips in surprise.  

Miss Thornhill softens, laughing lightly as she fixes her glasses. “You came here to steal my jacket?”  

Marilyn teases, and it breaks the tension a little but all it does is make you feel mortified, so you duck your head and stutter, trying not to whimper as you shove her coat into her hands and move to leave.  

Miss Thornhill blinks in surprise to you at the action, you’ve never dismissed her so easily, and she frowns instantly in concern as she places her jacket on her desk.  

“Please, just-” You don’t know what you’re trying to say, she’s just so close and you need her.  

“I'm okay. I promise. I need to go, I-” Your voice cracks, because your heat is flaring at her proximity and how her protective concern is making it worse. You turn to leave, but her warm hand is taking you by the bicep and halting you softly. 

You whimper, tugging as tears spring to your eyes in your desperation. “Marilyn, please I-” 

“Sweetheart,” She starts, shaking her head softly in confusion.

“What’s wrong? Tell me. Let me help.” Marilyn pleads softly, and you sink, deeper and deeper into where you yearn to be.  

“You’re shaking.” The other woman breathes out, eyes so caring as she then pulls you closer and back to her; then she tips over the line between you and you fall. 

Because she brings you into a hug, and you gasp so hard when her arms wrap around you and you feel her chest press up against yours; and your nose is shoved into her neck, red hair spilling all around you.

Her scent is overwhelming, and you don’t have any strength left in you, none at all as you breathe in deep, circle your arms around her too, and moan softly into her skin. 

Your senses pick up how her breath hitches, how blood rushes to her cheeks at the sound. She pulls back, and you feel your stomach flip at how her hazel eyes have darkened. Her lips part, like she was weighing what to say.  

“Honey,” Marilyn starts, and there’s this tone in her voice you can’t say no to. It has your eyes flickering to her lips, desperate and doe eyed. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong, okay? Can you do that for me?” 

Yes, you think. Yes, I’ll do anything for you.  

Before you can think better of it, the words spring from your lips at her gentle, warning command.  

“M’in heat.” You slur, throat bobbing as you shyly look to her neck instead of her eyes because as much as your inner wolf wants to do what Marilyn says, you’re heating up in shame and embarrassment.  

Marilyn’s eyes narrow in confusion. “You’re in...?”  

Then, her expression eases into realisation. “Oh.” 

You shut your eyes briefly, reopening them and seeing her toss a questioning look to her coat on her desk. “But you were...with my...?”

You watch Miss Thornhill put the pieces together in her mind, how it slowly dawns on her and you almost start begging for her, because Marilyn softens into this sympathetic look, breathing out an “Oh, sweet girl.” that you swallow thickly at.  

Then her hand cups your cheek, and you deflate with need, nuzzle into her palm with a mewl. Your head goes foggy with arousal, your heat is flaring and flaring you’re drenched with slick at this point as you look up, and Marilyn’s eyes are so warm and dark and enraptured, for you.  

You have no idea how you got here, how this is real; but you aren’t questioning it, you aren’t running away from this, ever. 

“I’m sorry,” You say, voice cracking in places. “I know it shouldn’t be you but it is and I can’t-I couldn’t do anything about it.” You say.  

“I need you,” You whine out, desperate and a little pleading. “I need you and it hurts Mari, please. Please.” 

“God,” The other woman breathes out, and you can hear how fast her heart beat is, how her eyes dilate and how Marilyn’s scent changes all together. It’s so musky, sweet and alluring, you want to be covered in it.  

Her hand falls to your hips, thumbs riding up a little underneath your sleep shirt and you’re suddenly hyper aware how short your shorts are, because when she moves forwards you feel the material of her jumpsuit rub against your thighs, how the top buttons of her blouse are open baring warm, pale skin. You gasp softly as she traps you against her desk. 

“You’re in heat...for me?” She says, like she needed clarification, to know that if she kisses you how far it’ll go.  

And you almost buckle at how gravelly her voice has dipped. You nod, fingers white knuckling on the edge of her desk behind you.  

“You.” Is what you breathe out in confirmation, voice shaking. There’s no one else. You want to say. It’ll only ever be you.  

Miss Thornhill bites her bottom lip lightly, tilting her head, and your eyes zero in on the movement.  

“Do you need me to look after you, baby?” Marilyn asks, and fuck, it’s all degrading and soft and kind and you want her to always call you these names. You whine, almost breaking your neck with how fast you nod.  

“Yes, please. Please.” You beg, you’re way past caring how whiny you sound. Your brain is just flooded with breed me, I’m yours. Only yours. And you know she’s only human and that’s another cruel twist of fate for you, but you don’t care. It’ll be enough. She’s enough. 

As if reading your mind, Marilyn's fingers at your hips dip into the waistband of your shorts, playing with the hem as she sits patiently and waits for your consent. “What will help? Tell me how you need me, sweetie.” 

Your desperate eyes flick down to her lips.

“K-Kiss me,” You say, barely above a whisper, and before you can beg her and get on your knees just for her to touch you, Miss Thornhill softens, leaning close and taking your lips in hers.  

It’s fucking fireworks, something inside of you just, clicks into place. You immediately reach up, grabbing for a lifeline, fisting her red hair in your hands and she groans. Her tongue is inside your mouth before you can gasp, and she tastes exactly how she smells; that sweet earthy scent you gulp down.  

You deepen it, pulling her so close your hips knock and it's so hungry because you’re throbbing, you think you might die if she doesn’t fuck you right now.  

You buck, push your body closer, Marilyn’s breath is hitching and she’s making these soft noises that your werewolf preens at.  

You’re feverish and slick and you don’t even think when you grab for her hand at your hip, urging her beneath the waistband of your shorts with this desperate grunt, that turns into a mewl as Marilyn breaks the kiss and breathes against your lips.  

“Fuck,” You watch her throat bob, an unrestrained desire in her brown eyes with how you whine for her, force her inside you and- 

You buckle forwards, resting your forehead on her shoulder as you gasp, shut your eyes in pure euphoria as she enters you with two fingers, slipping so easily inside your slick that the sensation makes Marilyn gasp.  

You clutch to her shoulders, moaning into her neck, and the constant anxiety from your heat is melting away in your mates' arms, you feel so right and full and you need more, you know she can’t knot you but the thought is enough to make you sink on her fingers harder, making Miss Thornhill whimper. 

“J-Jesus, baby,” She moans, high pitched as she curls her fingers inside you, forearm straining with the effort.  

“You’re so wet. This is all for me?” She asks, in awe, like she couldn’t believe you’re real. 

When you look up, you nod, panting as you ride her. As the desk keeps squeaking with her thrusts. As you gulp down her scent mixing with yours and then you pick up on the thick, overwhelming scent of her arousal and your entire body shakes.  

You hold to her forearm, just to feel the muscles flexing with her effort, and it makes you soak her fingers even more when you feel the definition under your fingers from where her sleeves are rolled up.  

Then she’s gently urging you harder against the desk, enough that you hop up onto the edge so she can slot between your spread legs. The new angle has you gasping, eyes watering in arousal.  

“Mari,” You whine out, slurred and hazy. Marilyn is enamoured by you, not slowing down her thrusts as you near your peak; her thumb rubs deep and hard at your hardened clit, enough for you to see stars but you can’t come. You don’t have your dominant’s permission. You can’t until she marks you until she scents you in her own way.  

She kisses you again, making you chase her lips when she pulls back to speak.  

“Oh, sweetheart,” She moans. “What do you need? I’m here. Tell me.” Marilyn says, as desperate as you are for you to come.  

Her lips part, eyes suddenly vulnerable as she fucks you. “This...this is new for me too.” She admits, and you whimper lightly as you cup her cheek and buck against her fingers. “Is this enough? Do you need more, baby? Is that it?” 

You nod, hard and fast, it makes her soften as you gasp out. “M-More. Deeper too, please.” 

Then, Marilyn’s adding a third finger and your eyes roll to the back of your head.  

The guttural moan that leaves you shocks you, has Miss Thornhill whimpering against your ear. You fall forwards again, needing to rub to her neck and scent her skin. You slur into her neck that ‘More, s’good, feels, fuck-” and Marilyn’s heart beat is loud beneath her neck.  

You’re so close, you’re so close but you know you’re missing that one thing you need. Pulling back, doe eyed and needy, you shyly pant against her lips.  

“Mari. Mari. N-Need you to-” Your breath hitches, because Marilyn curls impossibly deeper and has you seeing white.  

“I need you to mark me.” You rush out, breathless and dripping down her fingers as you swallow thickly and wait for her reply.  

Marilyn opens her mouth in shock, eyes blinking back to you beneath her glasses. You whine, because she’s slowed down at your words and she’s blushing and you’re so, so in love with her.  

“Darling, but-” She shakes her head softly, sending you a tender, searching look. “I thought that was for- but I’m not your...” 

Mate. 

You bite your lip, shuffling closer and grinding against her fingers almost to make a point and Marilyn shuts her eyes on a tiny moan when you kiss her again, breathe against her mouth that- 

“You are.” You say, and the truth of that statement has this needy noise leave your lips. “You are and I-” You swallow, watch Marilyn’s hazel eyes shine back to you in both shock, love, and adoration.  

“I need you to mark me. Make me come. Make me yours.” You plead, and the other woman is kissing you again with a fever that you gasp at.  

Her soft, deep thrusts start again and her lips trail from your mouth to your neck and you bare it to her on instinct, tendon tight against the skin of your neck and you feel Marilyn softly, tenderly, kiss down the area to where she pulls the neckline of your shirt away, exposing your collarbone as she fucks you against her desk and you suddenly want to cry at the display.  

And then- 

Marilyn’s teeth sink into your skin, at the area where your shoulder meets your neck. Her canines bite down on the muscle and you moan so deep it turns into a sob. You clutch to her back, her claim so sudden and raw and overwhelming that your heart thuds, hard and fast in your chest for her. You don’t know if she knows how much this is for you, how sacred it is for a werewolf. 

You suddenly want even more of her, an impossible amount, you want her knot or her fingers in your mouth or her strap. 

“Oh, god-” You moan out, tears springing to your eyes at the pleasure and the pain and the feeling flooding you. You feel Miss Thornhill pull back in worry, stuttering in concern, like she hurt you.  

“Fuck, baby, I’m sorry. Was that-?” 

“No!” You rush out to say, desperate to have her teeth back where she was.  

“A-Again,” You shyly say, watching Marilyn’s eyes darken and her lips part in surprise. “Want it again, please, don’t stop. It’s so good. Feels-” 

Marilyn groans, thigh meeting the thrusts of her hands to fuck you harder and you rock faster against the sensation, choking on a high-pitched whimper. Her tone drops, head tilted as she takes the sight of you in, like she was devouring you.  

“Feels what, puppy?” She says innocently, and that word makes you sink, speechless as the subspace takes you over.  

“Oh,” Marilyn softens, degrading and gentle all the same. Her eyes glint back to you, gloating in this new found reaction. “You like it when I call you puppy, sweet girl?” She mocks. 

You start to sob, so close to coming it’s hurting. You nod, biting your lip and feeling her hit so deep it takes the breath from your lungs. Marilyn presses ever closer, kissing you and tasting your tongue and biting hard to your bottom lip. 

“Come for me, puppy.” She moans, breathless at the sight of you. “Come all over my fingers, now honey.” Marilyn demands. “Come for me like the good girl you are.” 

It crashes into you, gushing onto her fingers as your orgasm takes over. The slick dripping down your thighs and her fingers is thick and heady, you moan and mewl into her neck, feel your walls clench around her and your claiming bite burns and throbs. 

She tenderly helps you ride it out, hushing you sweetly as you pant into her neck and nuzzle into her sweat slicked skin. You clutch her so close, nose the area, bathing in her scent and smiling so wide at the feeling and fuck, before you realise it your throat rumbles on a purr.  

You’re purring. 

You blush, hoping she didn’t notice, and relax in relief when Marilyn simply kisses the side of your head, down to your cheek, and your lips and jawline. Her thrusts slow down, pulling out and making your breath hitch.  

“You okay?” She gently murmurs, making you pull back and soften.  

You nod, breathing out, lovestruck and dizzy as you smile shyly, huff on a laugh. “Y-Yeah. More than okay. Perfect.” 

Marilyn’s eyes warm, lips quirking up on this tender smile aimed at you and suddenly you want to make her feel good, that part of you made only for the other woman yearns for it. You shift on her desk at the instant need, and Marilyn takes that as a sign that you want her fingers taken out.  

She furrows her brows, softly apologises, slowly pulling out and you whimper at not feeling filled by her anymore. Then you glance down and see her fingers coated in your slick, your heat, and your throat croaks on a whine as you look to them needily.  

Marilyn tilts her head at your reaction, blushing when she realises what you want.  

“Fuck, you want my fingers, sweetie?” She asks, voice husky and dipped in arousal. You nod, not even thinking twice as you obediently open your mouth for her fingers coated in your cum, eyes looking up to her beneath your wet eyelashes.  

Your doe eyed look has the other woman’s heart beat pick up, and as Miss Thornhill rests two of her fingers at your bottom lip, pulling it down gently, her eyes are an inky blackness. Your tongue darts out to taste yourself, eyes closing on a groan as you lean forwards and take them fully in your mouth.  

You wrap your lips around her digits, sucking and moaning in ecstasy and it has you throbbing again when you open your eyes, see the effect of you deep throating Marilyn’s fingers has on her. She starts to pump softly, completely and utterly enraptured by you and when you choke lightly, eyes watering, it breaks something inside of you.  

You let go of her fingers with a moan and hop down from the desk, flipping your bodies as Marilyn gasps and blinks in surprise to you. She steadies herself on the edge of it, palms clenching the wood between her fingers. 

“Darling girl, what are y-” 

Then you sink to your knees and Marilyn parts her lips, breath hitching at the sight. You look up to her, leaning back on your haunches and biting your lip in need. You can’t even wait for permission, just immediately unbuckling her belt around the jumpsuit and reaching up to her hips.  

Marilyn moans softly at the sight, lets you unbutton it down, down, until she shrugs out of the top half and it’s pooling at her mid-thigh; and her chest is heaving against the restraints of her black bra.   The plane of her stomach rises and falls with her breaths, the soft skin of her lightly defined abs is so alluring, you want to lick and bite and suck at the swell of her ribcage.  

She shyly fixes her glasses and shifts on the spot, hand coming down to run through your hair softly and you suddenly want to make her feel as loved as you do.  

The smell of her arousal has you whimpering, has you just losing all sense of control as you press forwards, pulling down the waistband of her underwear that are soaked; tongue darting out to taste her as Marilyn gasps. The other woman chokes on this moan, fist tightening in your hair making you mewl into her as she rides your face.  

You suck her clit, moan when she startles at the sensation and bucks harder into you and your hands come to her thighs, holding her in place against your mouth and tongue.  

“Oh my god,” Miss Thornhill pants out, when you chance a look at her, eye lids fluttering open briefly, you see the defined angle of her jawline as she tilts her head back and her throat bobs. 

“Baby, you-” Her words break off into a needy whine, head tilting back down as she watches you go down on her. “There, right there, don’t stop. That’s it. Jesus, such a good girl.” 

The praise has you preening, a little dumbed down and blushing as you work your mouth harder against her. Here, you think of wanting her strap, and almost come at the thought of sucking the length and taking her like this – you wonder if she’d come at the sight of your lips wrapped around her cock. 

Marilyn tastes so good, you want to always be drenched in this, down to your chin and neck, like you are now.  

Then, her hand in your hair tugs, fisting, and she suddenly comes against your mouth with a breathless gasp, your name on her lips moaned over and over.  

You swallow her, moaning at the taste, and you pull back when she urges you to with her hand in your hair. You obediently sit back, still kneeling, looking up to your mate with starry eyes and her come on your lips and Marilyn’s chest rises and falls; like she realises just exactly what you both have started.  

Then she pulls you up to her, a little desperately, and kisses you; her warm tongue is in your mouth and both of your arousals mingle together in the kiss.  

It tastes like ambrosia, like honey, something you’ve been needing, searching for, your whole fucking life.  

-

[bunniekittiee]

johnny slaughter x fem. reader

Small angsty piece. I’m so sorry I stopped writing for him as much, but I am working on it. Johnny may be a little ooc but ykw it’s all good. Also this is pretty rushed and short so I apologize for that.

The strong smell of cigarettes and cologne clung to Johnny’s body as she inhaled his scent. It was comforting yet it triggered her fight-or-flight. He was a dangerous man, but here she was, cuddled up with him in his home. It was like a rabbit stuck between the jowls of a starving wolf.

His mother did not take a liking to her. She thought of Johnny’s ‘girlfriend’ as a distraction, something that would only lead to his own demise. If he had the heart to keep a play toy, who’s to think he wouldn’t invite a love child into this world? Nancy made her dislike very clear and obvious, always telling Johnny to get rid of her or even talk about her to her face. She was not afraid of any consequence. Sometimes Johnny stepped in, sometimes he didn’t. His mother still had a hold on him. He was forever a mama’s boy.

Johnny’s rabbit wished he would defend her. Yet he hardly made his efforts. He could not step up to his mother. She provided him a home and she was right, a play thing was susceptible to be a distraction. But like a boy keeping a pet, Johnny made sure to take care of her. He fed her, sometimes bathed her, sometimes cleaned her up, and every once in a while he let her get some air, but she was trapped in her cage.

He was a bad owner. Poor maintenance and care.

Johnny was never good at keeping his pets.

Wishing for death was not enough, she practically craved it. Every inch of her body yearned for its end as he defiled her soul. A bad man who made bad decisions. Yet his mother continued to exploit his illness. She often wondered if had Nancy raised Johnny differently if he would have the same issues as he did now.

It was clear Johnny had his own personal problems that fueled his blood thirst. It was the matter of getting ahold of these problems and probing through them. But Johnny was not one for talking about his feelings, especially to a victim he kept for his own pleasure.

But part of him held these feelings for her. Weird feelings. He wouldn’t call it love, it was something else. He did care for her somewhat, he didn’t want to see any harm come to her unless it was from his hands. Maybe he had taken a liking to her. Maybe he had a bit of a soft spot for her.

His breathing was quiet and even, his scarred face in a restful state as she studied him. Eventually, an eye cracked open. He was very intuitive of his environment.

“What’s got ya’ up sweet pea?” He asked, his Southern drawl much more intoxicating in his sleepy voice.

“Nothing. Just can’t sleep.” She replied quietly as he started to close his eyes again.

“Just try a little harder baby. I promise ya’ it will come to ya’.” He said as he pulled her closer to him. “I’ll be with ya’.”

That was about the sweetest thing he had told her since keeping her against her will, and it warmed her heart.

Sleepy Johnny was the best Johnny. It seemed he was much more vulnerable in these moments.

She followed his advice and pressed her ear against his chest, listening to the slowing of his heart beat and his quiet breaths. It was comforting. It was home to her, as she had to make her home here.

Her dreams were haunted of nightmares. Usually she dreamt of her friends dying as they did on the Sawyer property, their bodies cut up and mangled within one another. Their faces were unforgettable.

But tonight was different. It was about Johnny. She dreamt of a bad night, a night where Johnny got caught by police in the middle of his act. He was tackled to the ground, pummeled by the fists of the officer as he tried to fight back. She screamed, screamed for them to get off of him and even tried to help, but she was pulled back by the officer’s partner who threw her to the ground as well. He held her there as she could only watch as Johnny struggled.

The officer pulled Johnny up who stumbled across the dirt ground. He threw the Slaughter boy against the cop car and roughly put the handcuffs on his wrists.

“Fuckin’ sicko. Ya’ like keepin’ girls and murderin’ them?” The officer asked as he grabbed Johnny by his hair.

“Fuck you.” Johnny replied, blood smeared across his face and his nose broken. One eye began to bruise purple, red, and black from the damage.

“Someone’s got a smart mouth.” The man said with a sinister smile.

“Target practice.” said the one who held his prey down. “Let his bitch watch too.”

Johnny was thrown to his knees, and although he tried to get up after being knocked down, he was suddenly stopped by the gun shot wound that pierced his gut. He groaned in pain as she panicked. Her sobs and cries were ignored by both officers.

Johnny took a few more rounds, his mouth dripping blood and his eyes beginning to glaze over as he fell over onto his side. He stared at his ‘lover’, his eyes beginning to close by the minute.

“I love you.” He choked out before he was swiftly kicked in the face.

Thrashing around, she was shaken awake harshly by none other than Johnny. Nancy stood on the doorway with a look of dismay and annoyance.

“What’s got into ya’?” Johnny said as he stared down at her. “Woke up the whole house with yer’ screamin’.”

“For the Lord’s sake, Johnny, if your play toy is going to be loud, take it outside. Don’t need that in our house.” She spat as she walked off, leaving Johnny a little annoyed as he studied his rabbit who stared at him with wide eyes.

“What happened?” He asked.

She explained to him her dream, her eyes watering as a few tears escaped. Johnny frowned, but then he smiled.

“Awwe, doll face, nothin’ will happen to me. I promise ya’.” He said as he gently wiped her tears away. “I don’t go down without a fight. And we ain’t gonna’ get caught.”

“It scared me. I don’t want to lose you, Johnny.” She croaked.

Johnny was a little taken aback as he did not expect that from her. He treated her like shit a lot of the time, and he knew that. He knew what he was doing. Yet despite all of that, she still didn’t want to lose him.

She could not bear to lose him.

Hearing that another person cared for him despite the treatment they got from him surprised him. Sure, his mother cared for him and maybe Chop Top and Bubba, but they were family.

She wasn’t exactly family. She was an outsider. Yet she held love for the Slaughter boy. She cared for his well-being and his life.

“Ya’ won’t lose me.” He said quietly as he held her face. “I promise ya’.”

That day, his mind was occupied with the thoughts of her and her dream. Her reaction, and how she was so terrified when she woke up.

She could not handle the loss of Johnny despite all he had done.

“Sweet thang.” He whispered to himself while busy with a chore. “What a sweet thang.”

[separatist-apologist]

What do you see as the difference between fanon Lucien and canon Lucien?

Canon Lucien is an asshole and fanon Lucien has no flaws, is the perfect gentleman and also just really boring.

I was ranting about this to LB, maybe I'll just make it public but if you examine the facts:

To break the curse of Amarantha, Tamlin HAS to send his soldiers over the wall. Presumably, Lucien also went in the wolf form looking for a human woman. They ALL know what's at stake, they all volunteer knowing the risks. Feyre is a starving human and she sees a wolf which is a threat even if she wasn't starving. Its a threat to her newly acquired deer AND her life- it makes sense to kill it.

So when she sets the curse in motion and Tamlin brings her, this is a LITERAL last ditch attempt to break the curse in the final hour and Lucien KNOWS this. He KNOWS if they fail that they'll all be enslaved. He, better than anyone, KNOWS what he has to lose because Amarantha has already taken his eye and forced them all into masks.

And yet when Feyre shows up, skinny, starving, and scared, his first words to her are insults. It's not necessary but he's pissed off and resentful- he wants to fight knowing three other courts tried this and were all killed for their trouble. Fanon Lucien would treat her with kindness and help her but actually interesting Lucien does not.

Lucien is the one who sends Feyre to the suriel knowing the dangers and knowing she's ill equipped to take on a Fae monster. And when he hears her scream, he ADMITS he hesitated to help her and if you follow the logic, its because he doesn't like her.

And I see people all the time lamenting for book 1 Lucien to return but then turn around and DEMAND we all acknowledge that Lucien would NEVER be anything other than a PERFECT gentleman when Lucien's own monologue acknowledges that what he loved most about Jesminda was how unimpressed with him she was. How she'd called him on his bullshit- and you HAVE to assume he gives it as good as he gets. The minute Elain has shit to say to him, she's gonna hear something back.

I like Lucien- like OBVIOUSLY, you don't write 2 MILLION words about a character you don't like. But I resent the constant posts going around that erase everything interesting and declare you're not a "true" elucien/Lucien stan would never write him/head canon him as a dick when like.

Baby. He IS a dick.

He's also loyal and clever and willing to do what's right even when its hard. He gets retconned into a perfect gentleman and I think this is borne of the pushback a lot of Lucien stans get from other folks in the fandom that lean too hard on his early missteps and refuse to acknowledge all the ways he's grown, too. But the swing went too far in the opposite direction imo and now I've got people in my AO3 comments mad that Lucien isn't weeping over Elain's beauty and it annoys me.

I have a longer piece brewing in the drafts about Lucien and Feyre and the ways the love each other + their misunderstandings of one another that I just need to get out of my system. It's taking forever because I hate quoting these books.

[im-out-of-it]

season 1, episode 5 continued

27. “Swear to me you won’t take your eyes off of clary. I, I can’t believe I even asked you that. you won’t let me down.”- jace. I can’t believe you asked that either jace. all he does is take advantage of Alec. he expects Alec to drop everything and help him right away. so not only does Alec have to watch someone he cares for falls in love with another girl, he has to babysit that same girl who is already causing enough chaos with his life and family

27. this is something clary will never understand. she doesn’t care about the law because it’s in her way.

28. Alec knows if he messes up, he will be held accountable. Jocelyn didn’t teach that to clary. Alec wants to be a leader and he’s aware that rules exist for a reason

29. and then clary is like I know you’ve been trying to help but basically you can do more. bitch, she is asleep, she’s not hurt, and Valentine has an army. you can’t just walk in and pick up your mother and be out. I’m trying to be sympathetic but she’s a migraine

30. Alec is already in trouble because of clary and here she goes wanting to go to her old loft without getting clave permission. not only does she need to be kept safe but she wants to go out where so many people are already probably hunting her. fucking hell, this girl doesn’t have a brain

31. okay so Magnus is getting right to it 🔥

32. ruining a perfectly good date Alec and Magnus could have had but noooooooooo clary had to go run off AGAIN. so not only has alec broken so many rules for her but she has literally no respect for Alec. not only does jace like clary but Alec has to witness jace’s feelings day in and day out. Alec has to babysit her while he gets berated by his own mother and then jace. GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK

33. I’m sorry but how is it Alec’s fault that she ran off?????

34. “You know the difference between the circle and the clave? I don’t. They all look the same to me. Shadowhunters think they are better than us. They’re the ones killing each other over petty disagreements. They expect us to obey orders they don’t follow themselves.”-wolf leader (I can’t think of his name) but man has a point. shadowhunters in general do think they’re better. they had the uprising but shadowhunters still don’t talk about how their own “people” committed atrocities and look at downworlders as if they’re the problem. Valentine was jealous of downworlders having powers he didn’t. Shadowhunters started hunting downworlders first I believe. Jace gets punishment in season two because he didn’t swear allegiance to the clave but he killed a wolf and I didn’t see much punishment for that. the clave and shadowhunters can do whatever and it’s not a problem until a downworlder does the same

36. Alec: am I gay? yes I’m gay but not gay for him

37. it’s insane how clary runs off and jace’s first instinct is to blame Alec. because that’s his fault, how??????

38. Simon gets kidnapped again because of clary because she ran off yet again.

39. Alec watching Simon climbing and being quick and seeing runes and he’s like now wait a damn minute. “running fire escapes excites mundanes, ill never understand these people” 💀

40. and the fact is, alec is genuinely worried and mad. he knows his mom will rip him a new one when she finds out. he also knows jace will be angry because jace is obsessed with clary. he could’ve been training at the institute or having a drink with Magnus but he has to babysit and now chase a stupid 18 year old girl because she didn’t care enough to sit her childish ass down. literally Alec can never be happy with all of his responsibilities. he has to keep jace out of trouble and now clary and prove to his parents that he can handle it. it’s not that surprising that he doesn’t seem happy.

41. (he’s just so fucking beautiful) 🥰

I don’t really see many people actually talking about what Alec goes through in the first season. Maryse is always spewing hateful comments towards Alec because apparently he’s not good enough, jace states Alec isn’t doing a good enough job, like he doesn’t really have anyone in his corner. he spends the first season getting berated. so no wonder he’s not happy

part 3 coming to a stadium near ya ✨

[evilphrog]

Watching Wheel of Time without reading the books: Season 2 Episode 3

Rand gets Pretty Womaned. Perrin has to once again make a choice between the hammer and the axe, and once again lets someone else make that choice for him. Nynaeve is missing, presumed dead, until she literally breaks the laws of physics to get back home because nobody tells her what she can and cannot do, not even reality. Egwene never stops believing in her. Mat escapes with the psychic bartender, but it was actually all orchestrated by the biggest bitch on the wheel.

Rand is the personal attendant to the False Dragon, who is now more of a lizard. He desperately begs to be taught how to control his powers before he suffers the same fate, but Lizard was never all that empathetic to begin with, and now he is actively suicidal. He agrees to teach Rand everything he knows, at the price of some fancy wine. Rand knows exactly how to earn that, and turns on the charm for his landlady. Selene really skeeves me out, for more reasons than just the predatory relationship with a barely legal guy who is clearly very mentally ill. I think it is the way she keeps trying to pretend this is more than a transactional relationship? The way she plays at romance, while still reminding Rand at every turn that she holds all the power? The way she pouts at him when he refuses to play along? I don't know, maybe she just has a sinister personality.

She gets him the wine, and an invitation to a dinner. He makes friends with some older lady who looks like Moiraine in disguise, who snarks at him about how much rich people suck. Okay, Not!Moiraine, way to hypocrite all over the place. Anyways, Rand is incredibly upset to realize the lady that has been preying on him is also preying on other desperate souls, so he runs off to Lizard. Lizard approves of the wine, and delivers the entirety of his advice: accept the madness and eventual death, because there is no way to avoid it. He then returns home where his landlady assaults him, and then they bang. Or maybe he just fell asleep and had a sex dream/hallucination. Either way, he accidentally Mannels, and burns down her inn. She rushes from the flames to find him, and I still get the feeling she's just Off.

Perrin and his friends have all been captured, except his Wolf Buddy who looks like Discount Heimdal. These are apparently the Seachan I have heard so much about. I now realize it is pronounced Shaun John, not See Chan. If there are no special effects from here on out, at least the rest of the budget was well spent on the Shaun John costumes. They are creepy as hell. Nancy Reagan is with them for reasons yet to be explained, and he keeps checking out Perrin. They take the Eyepatch guy up to force him to swear fealty to their throne, and immediately kill him when he refuses. Everyone else submits without question, though Perrin is still angry about it.

At some point he must have been knocked unconscious, because he wakes up alone, chained up in a carriage with Nancy Reagan. This dude is playing jumprope with the line between sweet grandfather and sexual predator. He wolf-baits Perrin, and comes out as the Dark One, which is still a lie. Perrin asks what he wants with him, and Nancy leans in like he is about to kiss him, and says he wants Perrin to be his. GAAAAAAYYYYYY. Heimdal and the wolves break Perrin out, and Perrin wants to rescue the others. Heimdal has another plan. Run away. Perrin follows along, but I sense some complaining in his future. He hates the choices other people make for him, but goes along with them because he still can't handle the thought of being responsible for another major mistake after his last one. Someone should tell him that choosing to follow orders is still a choice, and he is still responsible for the consequences of his choice. I fear he is going to find that out the hard way.

So onto Nynaeve, the heavy hitter of the episode. She is presented with an opportunity to walk through the swamp three arches, where she will face her greatest fears without even the force one power to protect her. If she succeeds, she will become a true Jedi master Accepted Aes Sedai. Her three greatest fears are really all the same fear. Watching people she loves suffer and die and choosing to leave them to their fate rather than fighting to save them. First up is her parents, then the Two Rivers folk, and finally, a brief flash of visions that end with her covered in blood. That last one haunts her so badly that she chooses to leave the tower, run away with Lan, and PSYCH! She was in the arches the entire time. She didn't even notice the archway return for her.

When the arch lit up and faded, the head Aes Sedai all realize she has been lost forever. The Principal of Novice School wallows in guilt, but has enough left over to remind JK Rowling that her self-righteousness won't actually wash away the blood on her hands. JK actually seems to feel shame, which I wasn't sure she was capable of before. She is suddenly more complex than the cardboard cutout lunch room bully she has been up until now. No more likeable, but painfully realistic with her ability to justify any and all actions as a defense against the deep self-loathing she can't afford to face. We all know someone like this. Someone so dedicated to their cause that they can't see the fact that they have become the exact thing they claim to fight against. In this case, She Woman Man Hater, Protector of Girls Everywhere has manipulated and murdered a young woman by treating her as a tool to power, rather than a person. But she doesn't have a penis, so she must still be Good. Right? Right? Her shields are failing. I wonder if she thought she loved Nynaeve, in whatever way her shriveled husk of a soul could comprehend love.

Egwene has recovered from her self-pity sleepover with Elayne, and is committed to appreciating Nynaeve a lot more. She goes to wake her up for school, but finds the Principal there instead. Principal stiffly and woodenly informs Egwene of Nynaeve's death and then walks out, in a way that seems cold to Egwene, but like she is inches from breaking down sobbing to the audience who saw her earlier performance. Elayne tries to comfort Egwene in her sincere, awkward way, but Egwene has just lost her final tie to home, and is not ready to pour her heart out to someone she met yesterday. Read the room, Elayne. Not that you have ever had this skill. Aren't princesses supposed to get etiquette training? She must have failed that class.

JK Rowling does find a way to blame a man after all. She WOULD have prepared Nynaeve properly, if only she hadn't been stuck tormenting Mat for no real reason except that she likes manipulating people. It is really all his fault, for being so manipulable. She releases him, after delivering a scathing rant about her own insecurities projected onto him. Someone in that room is certainly an insidious coward who mistakes their own moral failings for cunning and wallows in self pity. He and Min make a run for it, but Min goes back for a quick chat that serves no purpose except to let us the viewer know she's been working with JK all along.

Egwene goes to the arches, and pours everything she has into opening the archway for Nynaeve, but it just isn't enough. Elayne comes by for a second attempt at comfort. She is able to convince Egwene to stop trying to kill herself by overchanneling at the arches, but promises to sit with her until she's ready to leave. Maybe she CAN learn how humans work after all.

Nynaeve, meanwhile, has been living peacefully in a fantasy similar to Rand's. She and Lan are happily married, with a rambunctious daughter. They live in the Two Rivers with Mat and Perrin, and get letters from the Powerful and Amazing Egwene Sedai. After many happy years, however, her home is invaded by trollocs. She has to hide her daughter in a cellar, while she tries to fight, in a clear parallel to her own memories of losing her parents. The adults do their best, but Mat, Perrin, and Lan all die brutally within seconds of each other. Nynaeve rages so hard that she channels inside the arches. Okay, I understand. Her biggest fear is that being an Aes Sedai will keep her from protecting her loved ones because her duty will come first. She has overcome it by realizing that her power is the one thing that could have saved them all. But now for the final test. Her daughter comes upstairs for a hug, just as the archway appears. Nynaeve knows she must walk through, but she can't abandon her child to her fate. So she gathers up the girl and rushes through, only to emerge empty-handed and covered in blood to a shocked Egwene, who hugs her as she cries. Was that life ever actually real? Is there a world out there where a little girl closed her eyes and trusted her mother to carry her to safety, only to end up helpless and alone against a horde of monsters and the corpses of her family? Nynaeve will never know. Congratulations on becoming an Accepted, and on never knowing peace again.

Other episode reviews

[tuulikannel]

@lazytoufu and I have talked a bit about doing different princess themed karushuu stories. This isn't really a princess one, just based on a fairytale. I think I'll yet post this on AO3 too... once I figure out a real title for this. No, I will not be calling this Little Red Riding Shuu for real XD

But, yes. A Little Red Riding Hood retelling with some hints of karushuu in it. Funnily enough, it's exactly 3333 words atm. (And that's like, 2000 words more than I thought it'd be...) (I hope there are not many typos and other stuff, I wrote this in one go in the past 3 hours or so and now it's midnight here and I'm too sleepy to proofread more) (if you've any suggestions for a title do tell me)

The Little Red Riding Shuu (or whatever this'll be called)

In a grand house at the edge of a forest, a man called his son to him.

“I have an errand for you,” he said, offering the boy a basket. “You have to take this basket to your grandmother’s cottage.”

The boy gave the basket a long look. “I have a grandmother?”

“Of course you do.” The man pushed the basket to him. “There is also a map in there. Now, don’t dawdle. She has taken ill, and you have to make haste to bring her this medicine, so that…”

The boy snorted. “Yeah, sure. You’re sending medicine to people. Give me some credit, father.” He looked at the map and frowned. “She sure lives at a nice place, doesn’t she? Those parts of the forest are full of robbers and dangerous wildlife.”

“Is that a problem?”

He gave the man a sharp glance. “Don’t be stupid. I’m on my way.” He threw his red cloak over his shoulders and headed out.

As he started his journey through the forest, Gakushuu took a curious peek into the basket. There was a vial in it but there was nothing on the vial to indicate what its insides were. Medicine? He gave a little laugh. Hardly. Perhaps he would find out something once he found this so-called grandmother of his.

The road wasn’t as bad as he had thought. Yeah, sure, some random robbers attempted to attack him, but he dealt with them easily enough. One tried to stop him with poisonous gas, another, he had to admit, had a fairly strong grip in his hands (and an extremely annoying way of speaking), and then there was the absolute weirdo who seemed to be more interested in eating his guns than fighting with them. A sniper was a bit too close for comfort to get him, but in the end Gakushuu escaped him, too.

Evening was getting close and dusk was beginning to settle. He had left all roads far behind, but thankfully the terrain wasn’t too difficult. Gakushuu fastened his pace a little. He had hoped to make it back home before night fell, but he had spent a bit too much time dealing with the robbers. At this rate, he might have to spend the night at his “grandmother’s.”

“Well, hello there,” a soft voice suddenly said from the darkness, and he nearly gave a start.

He hadn’t sensed anyone watching him. Had someone truly been able to sneak upon him like this?

“Who’s there?” he asked, carefully keeping his voice even.

Someone – something? – stepped out of the dark forest. Gakushuu’s eyes widened a little, looking at the sight. Gleaming yellow eyes, a pair of rather fluffy ears covered in red fur, toothiest grin he had ever seen… He could just stare.

The other’s grin faded gradually away. “What? Never seen a wolf before?”

Gakushuu frowned. “You are… a bit red for a wolf.” Not to mention big. As far as he knew, a wolf shouldn’t be looking him almost in the eye.

“Shows what you know,” the other grunted. “I’m a red wolf.”

“Hmm.” Gakushuu wasn’t fully convinced, but in the end, the exact species of this beast was irrelevant. “So, what do you want?”

The self-declared wolf sighed. “Just to say hello! It’s quite an event to see a new face around here.”

“Okay then. Hello, and goodbye.” Gakushuu nodded and started walking on.

“Hey, c’mon!” The wolf ran after him. “We just met, don’t be in such a hurry!”

“Night is coming,” Gakushuu said shortly. “I want to reach my destination before that.”

“Ah,” the wolf breathed. “Of course. You poor humans and your lacking eyesight. I do understand. So…” The wolf jogged up to him to walk beside him. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“So suspicious…” the wolf sighed. “Come now, I know this forest through and through. If you tell me your destination, I could guide you there.”

“I don’t need a guide.”

“Mmm… if you say so. Juuust… if you continue down this way, you’ll soon run into thorny thickets that’s very hard to go through. It might seem tempting to go by it on the left, but that would lead you to a treacherous swamp. But if you head this way instead,” the wolf nodded to right, “you’ll soon find a path made by animals that just might be handy for you.”

Gakushuu said nothing but walked stubbornly on. He wasn’t foolish enough to follow a complete stranger – let alone a wolf – in a situation like this. Soon enough, though, he found those thickets the wolf had spoken about. He paused to consider. Yes, the terrain did seem easier, if he tried to go around this place on the left, but… hmm.

Was this a trap? He glanced at the wolf who was watching him with a much too innocent smile, and turned then right, against his better judgment.

“My offer still stands,” the wolf said, following him. “Just tell me where you’re going, and I’ll get you there in a moment.”

“And I bet you’re helping me out of the goodness of your heart, huh,” Gakushuu said dryly.

“Oh, of course! Although I would not mind it if you were to offer me something in return…”

“Like what?”

“Well, maybe a sniff of whatever you’re carrying in the basket,” the wolf said, and Gakushuu instinctively drew the basket closer. “Come now, that’s not too greedy, is it?”

“What is in this basket isn’t my property,” Gakushuu said. “So I’m afraid I can’t promise you any of it. Even a sniff.”

“Who are you taking it to, then?” the wolf asked, clearly curious.

“My grandmother,” Gakushuu said after just a short hesitation.

“Hmm.”

“She’s sick.”

“Of course.”

They walked a moment in silence. There really was, Gakushuu saw, some kind of a path going through the forest. It headed approximately in the right direction, so he started following it.

“So, your grandma lives in the cabin that’s by the brook down there, huh?” the wolf asked. Gakushuu said nothing, but the wolf ignored that and went on. “Well, it’s the only building anywhere nearby that you possibly could reach before dark. Funny though, I thought it’s just a hunting cabin.”

Gakushuu just shrugged.

“Follow me,” the wolf said after a while and left the path. “This is a shortcut.”

Gakushuu was still a bit hesitant to do that, but to be honest, he had just been thinking he probably should leave the path and head in that direction. Oh well. He’d just be extra alert and keep a careful eye on the wolf. If he tried something, he would yet regret it.

Soon enough he heard the brook, and then he saw the cabin. It did look like an average hunting cabin.

The wolf paused. “Sure you want to go in there?” he asked.

“What, you don’t like hunting cabins? Scared of hunters?”

“As if.” The wolf snorted. “But… ah, I forgot. It’s not just your eyesight that is lacking. This place smells all wrong.”

“Yeah?” To be honest, Gakushuu wasn’t surprised. This whole thing was clearly nothing but a test his father had created for him. But not delivering the “medicine” to his “grandmother” would equal failure. Therefore, he had no other option but to enter this cabin.

And he did so.

It was so dim there. He could see a desk and chairs, a cupboard… head of a deer on the wall… but there was no one in there.

“Hello?” he called out.

“Oh, hello,” a squeaky voice replied. “Is it you, my darling grandson?”

 “Yes… grandmother,” he said and walked carefully deeper into the cabin. “I’m bringing you medicine.”

“Oh, what a good boy you are!” the voice squeaked.

Gakushuu entered another room. A bedroom. There was a figure lying on the bed. A very big figure. Gakushuu squinted his eyes, trying to see. It was even darker in this room. There was, perhaps, a face half-hidden under a white sheet. Were those dark dots eyes looking at him?

“Grandmother…” he said slowly. “What tiny eyes you’ve got.”

“Still they see you very well, dear boy!” the voice squeaked. Yes, it clearly came from the bed. For a moment Gakushuu had suspected someone had merely placed some pillows into it to fake a body.

He moved a little closer. She saw very well, huh? Unlike him, in this darkness. But the body lying in that bed – if it was real – sure was big, that much he did see.

“What a large body you have,” he muttered.

“All the better to hug you with, my boy!”

Please don’t, Gakushuu thought to himself.

The sheet fell from the face as the form on the bed moved. The grin that was revealed from underneath it was much toothier than even the wolf’s.

“What a big mouth you’ve got, grandmother,” Gakushuu said, his hand grasping his knife.

“All the better to eat you with!” exclaimed the creature in the bed, and suddenly half a dozen tentacles shot at him. Gakushuu slashed at them with his knife, cutting two, dodging three, but one still caught him. Only for a short moment, though, as something red flashed in the corner of his eye and the wolf had sunk his sharp teeth into the tentacle.

“Augh!” Something big, yellow and tentacled, clad in black robes, stood on the bed, wailing. “That hurt!”

“That was the meaning,” the wolf said with a grin. “Mmm, tastes like octopus! Nice. It’s been too long since I’ve had seafood. Hey, Little Red Riding Hood, how about we make some sushi for ourselves?”

“You can have it all for yourself,” Gakushuu said. “And don’t start making weird names for me. I’m called Gakushuu.”

The yellow thing was flailing on the bed. “You! You would eat me? That’s so rude!”

“Didn’t you just say you’re going to eat me, grandma?” Gakushuu asked, jumping into a swift attack. The octopus monster dodged him, impossibly swift, and then yelped, having to dodge the wolf, too.

“Well, yes! But I’m the monster of this story, so that’s how it should be! The monster isn’t supposed to be eaten!”

Tentacles whizzed across the room, fast. Gakushuu had to rely on all his training just to dodge them. A counterattack was simply impossible.

“Tactical retreat!” the wolf yelled and dashed toward the door. Gakushuu didn’t really like the idea, but under the circumstances it seemed sensible.

They rushed out of the cabin. Gakushuu wasn’t quite sure if having more room would be a good or a bad thing against this opponent, but it did feel better than the cramped cabin.

“He’s coming!” he shouted as a yellow blur flew out of the cabin after them. Again, there was nothing he could do but dodge – well, at least there was more room to do that, now.

Again, the wolf jumped at a tentacle and caught it in his teeth. A sharp flick sent him flying and he landed in the brook. That didn’t stop him, though, and just a moment later he was making another attack on the tentacle creature.

“Ah! You’re all wet!” Again, the wolf was sent flying, but Gakushuu paused. A few droplets had fallen on a tentacle, and it was… melting? The wolf was back on his feet in an instant, and for a moment their eyes met. In a silent agreement they started dodging in a way that led the creature toward the brook. At one point, Gakushuu grasped a bucket that had been lying by the cabin, pretending to use it as a shield.

It took a good while of dancing around, but finally the creature stood right at the edge of the river at the perfect spot. Again their eyes met, and both knew exactly what to do. Gakushuu raised his knife, locking his eyes with the tiny beads of the octopus monster. He parried a tentacle, made a fake attack and then threw the knife toward its head. The octopus parried it with ease, but right then the wolf took a firm grasp of the hem of his robe and pulled, strongly. Gakushuu too flung himself at the octopus who fell toward the brook, suddenly shrieking in terror.

Somehow the long tentacles grasped a hold of trees and stones around the brook, stopping the fall in the last moment. The wolf landed on the octopus’s chest and Gakushuu already had the bucket filled with water, about to throw it at his face.

“Surrender!” the wolf growled, and Gakushuu paused. Huh? Wasn’t this a fight to death?

The octopus’s eyes had a strangely panicked look in them (for being nothing but little beads, that is) as he glanced from the growling wolf to Gakushuu grim face and the bucket that had almost been emptied over his head.

“I surrender!” he shrieked.

“Great.” The wolf jumped to the ground and grinned at Gakushuu. “Our victory, comrade!”

“Are we really going to let him live?” Gakushuu asked with a frown. “He was going to kill me!”

“No I wasn’t!” the octopus shouted. “Of course not! What do you take me for, some kind of a monster?”

“…you yourself said you’re the monster of this story,” Gakushuu pointed out.

“Well, yes, but…” The octopus flailed, flustered. “It was just for dramatic effect! Of course I wasn’t going to kill you! Your father would have been so mad with me!”

“Father.” Gakushuu sighed. “Of course. He hired you, didn’t he.” It wasn’t even really a question.

The octopus nodded, looking miserable. “He wanted me to test you, that’s all! I wouldn’t have really eaten you or anything.”

“And that vial… it was your reward, right?”

“Talking about which…” While they were talking, the wolf had gone inside to get the basket. “It belongs to me now, you know.”

“Hey,” Gakushuu said, ignoring the octopus who was wailing something about needing it. “I never said anything about giving it to you.”

“Oh, come now!” The wolf glared at him. “You’d have never done this without my help.”

“That’s debatable,” Gakushuu said, even though, to be honest, it truly wasn’t. He did remember the iron grip of the tentacle that had grabbed him right in the beginning. If the wolf hadn’t come to his help, the fight might have been over right then and there. “But,” he went on magnanimously, “you did come to my aid – even though I never asked for help – and it’s not like I needed that vial for anything, so… you can have it.”

“How very kind of you,” the wolf said dryly. “Would you help me…”

“But!” the octopus wailed. “It was promised to me! And I did my job, so I’ve earned it! Your father told you to give it to me, didn’t he!”

“I was told to give it to my grandmother, and you,” he gave the octopus a long look, “are clearly not that.”

“Buuuut! You don’t understand! I’m under a curse and unless I drink that magic potion I’ll never become human again!”

“Tough luck,” the wolf muttered. “Open it for me, won’t you?”

“So you too want to drink this?” Gakushuu asked, curious.

He picked up the vial and opened it. He glanced at the octopus. There were actual tears flowing down his round cheeks. Gakushuu sighed.

“If my father had this, he can surely get more. Just go ask for another vial”

“Have you ever tried to deal with your father,” the octopus whined. “Who knows what he’ll have me do this time!”

Gakushuu paused. True enough. And perhaps he shouldn’t hold his father’s actions against this octopus. He’d just been doing what he’d been told to, anyway.

“Well then. Fifty-fifty, how about that? Both of you get half of it.”

The wolf gave him a thoughtful look. “I’m not sure if that’ll be enough.”

“You drink half of it,” Gakushuu decreed. “If it’s not enough, you get also the rest.” He looked at the octopus. “That’s the best deal you can get.”

The octopus just nodded, still the epitome of pitifulness.

“Okay then.” Gakushuu carefully poured half of the liquid in the vial to the wolf who drank it. The wolf shimmered softly, his outline grew strangely blurry, and suddenly instead of a wolf a boy was standing there.

“Huh…” He felt carefully his arms and chest and patted then his head, grimacing a little. “I told you it won’t be enough!”

Gakushuu eyes were transfixed on the wolf ears on his head. “That’s not too bad, though, is it?” he said, reaching out. Yeah, the ears were just as fluffy and soft as they looked like. “They’re kind of…” cute, he was going to say, when he suddenly realized he stood there ruffling the ears of a stark naked boy of his own age.

He turned around swiftly, his cheeks hot. “You can have the rest,” he said, giving the vial to the octopus who gave it an uncertain look.

“…if I’m still going to have tentacles…” he mumbled, but still drank the rest of the drink.

Gakushuu waited with mild horror, wondering if they’d end up with some kind of an octopus/human chimera, but in the end the young man who appeared in the place of the octopus looked perfectly normal.

“Hmm,” the wolf-boy said, sounding a bit disappointed. “How boring.”

The man grinned. “Hey, this is…!” Suddenly two tentacles shot out from under his hair, and he gave a startled yelp.

“Oh, that’s more like it!” the ex-wolf stated happily. “Cool.”

Gakushuu sighed, turning away from the man who was freaking out, trying to see his image in the brook’s water. He would certainly have a thing or two to say to his father once he returned home. If he returned. He was certainly more pissed off with the man than probably ever before.

It was already dark. He started walking toward the cabin. He’d spend the night there and decide in the morning what he’d do.

The wolf-boy was suddenly by his side. “So! There’s only one bed there. Shall we share or will you sleep on the floor?”

Gakushuu spluttered. “Why the hell would I sleep on the floor!”

“You’re the one with clothes, so you won’t get cold.” The boy grinned at him, something extremely wolfy in his expression. “Or then we can decide who gets the bed in a fair fight.”

“I’m done with fighting tonight,” Gakushuu muttered. “Whatever. It’s a big enough bed, I guess.”

“Uh, I…” The man had rushed after them and was about to say something.

“You’re not joining us!” Gakushuu exclaimed. “You’ve your robes, you’re fine on the floor.” The man fell silent, a hurt look on his face. Gakushuu paid that no attention but marched into the bedroom, followed by the smirking boy.

“God,” Gakushuu mumbled as he settled down on the bed, still fully clothed. He was so tired. It had been a long day.

The other boy clambered into the bed too. “So,” he said, “what shall we do tomorrow? You wanna stay here or…”

“Who said we’re going to do anything?” Gakushuu said. “What you should do is to find some clothes. I’ll decide what I’m doing tomorrow.”

“I just think we’re a pretty good team, don’t you think? We could go adventuring together! I’m sure that together…”

“Yeah, sure, absolutely. Shut up, I’m tired.”

“Okay, okay. Goodnight then, Shuu.” The boy curled up next to him, a bit too close.

“I told you not to come up with stupid nicknames for me,” Gakushuu mumbled, but he was too tried to be really mad. “Stupid wolf.”

“I’m Karma,” the boy said.

“Figures,” Gakushuu muttered, on the borderline between sleep and waking.

Quite soon the two boys were in a deep sleep. In the other room the man lay awake quite long, trying to decide if he wanted to be the one to tell his employer that his son had eloped with a wolf, or if he should rather just run too while he could.

[thc-boltcr]

( kate walsh. cis woman. she/her. ) - let me introduce you to a member of the eversley family, cressida wilder is the matriarch’s youngest sister. they are fifty-one and are known as the bolter to the family because they are excellent fun, flighty, and unreliable when you get to know them, you think about the prima’s final bow; enough ex husbands to be scandalous, but not so many as to be utterly disowned but they’re still an eversley, nonetheless.

( this is quite long, tw for death & illness )

ORIGINS & FAMILY:

Name: Cressida Elizabeth Wilder, nee Arnoult

Nickname:  Cress, Red, Essie

Birthday: February 13, 1973

Place of Birth: Findlay Estate, somewhere fancy, England

Places Lived Since: London, Paris, St. Petersburg, Vienna, Amsterdam, New York, Los Angeles, Geneva

Current Residence: London

Notable Family Members: Eden Montague ( daughter ); Lord Edward Montague ( deceased, first husband ); Jacob Findlay ( younger brother, raised ); Ignes Eversley ( older sister ); Wolfe Madison ( second husband, divorced ); Blue Navarro ( ex-sister in law, sees as a sister ); Christian Wilder ( third / longest / favorite husband, deceased )

PHYSICAL:

Faceclaim: Kate Walsh

Height: 5’8

Build: slim

Hair Color: dark red  

Eye Color: grey

Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: always wearing rings, both ears pierced, a few tiny hidden tattoos

Unique Mannerisms/Physical Habits: twisting her rings, talking with her hands, running when things get messy 

PERSONALITY:

Occupation: former world-renowned prima ballerina, occasional guest choreographer at the Royal Ballet

Languages Spoken: English, French, Russian, German

Positive Traits: outgoing, charming, emotive, devoted, meticulous

Negative Traits: obsessive, flighty, avoidant, manipulative, selfish 

Likes: good champagne, the first row of the balcony, clever banter, first editions, the second act of Giselle, live orchestras, New York in the winter and Paris in the spring

Dislikes: the entire concept of Dance Moms ( tv show ), Los Angeles,  brutalist architecture, driving, lazy choreographers, the cecchetti method, feeling trapped

Aesthetic: the hubris of such divine wealth and privilege; this house is not haunted – you are; the inherent masochism of ballet; physical intimacy like a drug – the prima always needs her audience; your daughter’s laughter carried across the breeze – watching desperately as she makes her own mistakes; collecting favors and lovers and fighting to hold your own; just enough ex-husbands to be scandalous but not so many as to be utterly disowned; the prima takes her final bow

HISTORY:

Ignes is the perfect, gracious daughter; Cressida always has one foot out the door and the other on the stage. She loves her older sister, truly does, but Cress knows they were never meant for the same thing. She’s a natural, a prodigy some say – and nearly fucking blew it by getting knocked up at 18 by the help. The Arnoult Patriarch would not allow this kind of shame brought upon the family – so Cressida gets a wealthy, titled, older husband and the Royal Ballet gets a generous donation to take her back once the child is born.

Eden is perfect, her own little paradise in a beautiful little girl. Cress never even considers giving her away, not when this child is the first person who might love her without any conditions. The best that can be said about Lord Edward Montague is that he gives her child legitimacy and his name and gives Cressida the freedom to be herself. She’s the darling of the ballet, a rising star – Eden grows up backstage and in studios, adored by all who meet her. Edward has his affairs and Cressida has hers – but he loves that baby as if she were his own. He dies from a fall from his horse when Eden is two, leaving his estate and titles to her and Cressida.

Eden is three when Cressida’s father shows up at their London home with his own five-year-old son in tow. Jacob’s mother, his second wife, passed and the man is too old and too set in his ways to raise yet another child. He likely expects Cressida to say no, and then he will move on to the more reasonable option of Ignes, but Cressida looks at her littlest brother and feels his grief and his fear and says yes without a second thought.

The next decade or so she graces stages across Europe, with two small children in tow. St. Petersburg in the chaos of the late 90s – oil barons and oligarchs falling under her spell and at her feet, but Eden and Jacob always come first, and she keeps the men wanting and chasing but always out of reach. A few years in Paris, and the lightly haunted house she still owns is full of happy laughter and bright playful children. Then they give New York a try.

She laughs when Wolfe Madison introduces himself to her at some gala event or another. She’s heard the name – actor, producer, Hollywood royalty in town working on his directorial debut – a gritty action movie in which he also stars. He falls, and who can blame him? She’s all legs and dark red hair – a tragic past with a dead husband, raising her half-brother alongside her daughter, and he’s cast her as his perfect wife. Beautiful and charming, but with just enough damage that men like this find alluring. Cressida says yes to marrying him, but no to Los Angeles – so they stay in New York (begrudgingly on his part ).

Maybe she actually loves him, or maybe it's the thrill of feeling like she’s found someone who can keep up with her. She moves to LA after a year, and Jacob gets into acting, nepotism and those dashing good looks and posh British charm taking him far. Eden goes to university – and suddenly Cressida finds herself utterly alone, at a third-rate ballet company in a city that worships the screen, married to a man who isn’t interesting enough to have as nasty a temper as he does. The best thing to come from this is Cressida’s relationship with Wolfe’s younger sister Blue, who she loves as if she were her own sister. The marriage ends in a flurry of shouting matches, tabloid headlines, and photographs of Wolfe’s face between the tits of a twenty-two-year-old stripper in Vegas.

Cressida moves back to Paris, it's where she’s always been happiest, and finishes her career with the Paris Opera Ballet. Here she meets Christian Wilder, a musician and composer with sad eyes and a gentle heart. They marry on a whim, on holiday in Normandy in some tiny medieval church officiated by an aging priest. It's perfect. In Paris they live in that haunted house, making peace with the ghosts. Cressida still teaches and choreographs for the ballet, and Christian writes her soaring concertos and silly little jingles and she loves them all.

The diagnosis is not entirely unexpected, but his health declines rapidly afterwards. He is at peace with his fate, but Cressida fights – she’s always the first one to run, how dare he leave before her? He laughs softly as she tells him this, demands that he stay – then makes her promise to follow the instructions he’s left regarding the music at his funeral. Cressida buries her heart with him in that grave, to a perfectly curated score. She keeps his last name, and still wears the ruby he gave her.

Now she’s in London, patron of the Royal Ballet and guiding the next generation of talent. But Ignes’s husband’s health is failing, and the vultures are circling the family. So off she goes - out of loyalty to her sister, the desire to see Eden and Jacob, and because these things are always so amusing to watch.  

[josiedoe]

funny weird fursona from ages past hours while i wanna take this opportunity to share my art, i kinda also wanna reach out to everybody who had cringy neon old fursonas and oc's that they're embarrassed of or feel like they need to shittalk every time they mention them bc "theyre totally better at making characters now i swear!" this is my fursona splash. i've changed sonas a few times, but none of them will be as important to me as her. she's not there yet, but next year in february, on my birthday, she will be 9 years old. i made her feb 22nd of 2015, my 9th birthday. i stopped using her eventually, because i thought i'd grown out of her. i used to show her to people and laugh about how stereotypical of a mary sue she was, how she had a demon AND angel form, how i'd ship her with characters from whatever media i was interested in at the time, how she had super secret sparkle powers that could do anything and how she's "not me anymore" then i remembered how crushed i felt when my friends at the time first started calling her one. i was knee deep at that point in thinking mary sues were dumb, and felt really bad about it when a friend said she was a huge mary sue and how i should probably change her. they even got mad when i said i didnt want to and told me i "couldn't take criticism". ive tried so hard over the years to distance myself from her while trying not to be too hard on her, to enjoy her in an "ironic, more experienced way" and regard her as what NOT to do.

this is the first ever drawing i did of her. another oc of mine turns 9 on my bday, and ill do art of her too, but this is where i made her. she was a drawing of firestar that i got bored drawing and decided to slap some neons on from the ms paint advanced preset colors. as you can see, she hasn't really changed much. her name used to be colordrop, because i had a stuffed bunny around that time with the same name. i think i renamed her to splash because i liked splashkittyartist. is the art good? no. did i really care? not really! i didnt even know it was bad at the time, because it honestly wasn't. i just wasn't as far in my art journey as i am now. im glad i never deleted my deviantart account, and i plan at some point to go through and save the images that are important to me on a google drive of some kind. aslong as im able to remember and keep her, she's an important part of myself. she's still me, just from a different time, and also so much more than that. im not sad about her, not in a nostalgic "i wish i could go back way". im happy, if anything, because i only recently realized we shared a birthday. isn't that cool? to not only have an oc that was made on your birthday, but reaches milestones with you? when she turns 18, i'll be 27. when she's 27, i'll be 36. i think that's pretty neat. i think it's important for every artist, if they struggle with this, to look for their old oc's and fursonas and whatnot from when they were kids and instead of looking at them through a lens of "im better now, do you see how bad i used to be at this whole character making thing though? its funny.", instead be kind to your old creations and go "wow, i had alot of fun with you. i wonder if i can have even more." if you're able to, start using them again. write with them again, even if its small and silly and more out of whimsy and joy than actual plot development. i implore you to be kinder to kid you. even if kid you wasn't very kind themselves. if you would look at another kids drawing and oc and go "wow thats amazing! you're so creative!", then you should regard what you made then with the same enthusiasm. put your own work on the fridge if nobody else did. anyways, ramble over. i'm very passionate about this subject because i lived it, and i deeply enjoy reclaiming what i was made to feel embarrassed of. so moon darkraven, demon wolf with an anime scythe and scene bangs and red eyes and neon colors that don't mix, i think you're doing great. i hope you're doing well, wherever you are now, and that so is the person who made you. happy early birthday to me and my special little gal

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Books, Love & Oatmeal (Forrest Bondurant x Reader)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Modern AU, Bookshop AU, Werewolf AU

Pairing: Werewolf bookshop keeper!Forrest x Fem Human!Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, an overly worried Forrest, a sprinkle of self-loathing

Summary: Stomach flu season is a yearly occurrence. However, Wolves are less susceptible to disease in general and therefore generally have a smaller pocket of knowledge on how it affects other species. So when you fall ill with the bug, Forrest experiences first hand the stress of having to take care of his human mate.

Although, perhaps he takes things a little too far.

Author’s Note: This piece is from Forrest’s POV.

Tag list: @potter-solomons @hecatemoon87 @buttercup32sstuff @alikaheroes @ilovemanypeople @woofgocows @liliac-dreamer @zablife @elijahssuit @dreamlandcreations​ @vir-tual​

TH Masterlist

I hate seeing her like this.

Usually she is full of life, ready to chastise me for coming home with muddy boots after a hike. For wandering off when we’re on the road. Or for killing prey which we could cook up for dinner. Fortunately, that’s only on the days Y/N takes care of it.

I don’t have the heart yet to enlighten her about my secret recipes. And I think that’s the last thing she wants to hear right now.

The sour smell has worsened since the morning. I first caught a whiff of it when she sprang up out of bed, rushed into the bathroom, and let it all out. Pale-faced, she returned, an unsteady hand on the door knob.

Jack and Howard would never let up if they heard me, but I couldn’t help but whimper at her state. It turned into a soft whine when I got to my feet and picked her up, an involuntary shiver further chilling her cold skin. I tucked her in after pulling an extra blanket from the closet to wrap her up in.

“Forrest, I need to get to work,’’ she said, trying to get up. She started to struggle when I tried to gently push her back onto the pillows. ‘‘I’m expected at the office.”

I’m not always in control and often exercise more strength than necessary. However, and the mere thought makes me uneasy still, I consciously made use of the Wolf to keep her in place. It’s my responsibility that she's in good health and it’s only natural to take a sick day when you’re ill. If I hadn’t done that, she’d gone out and the sickness would’ve worsened. I did the right thing. 

Don’t mean I don’t hate myself for it. 

“No, you’re staying home. Where’s your phone? I’ll call your boss and tell them you’re not coming.”

A small gasp fell from her lips, eyes wide in surprise at the use of force. Yet, Y/N continued to protest, fiercer than before. “I can work from-’’

“No working from home either. If they don’t like it, I’ll send for Jack. He’ll know how to butter them up just right.”

“I’m okay.”

“Sure as hell didn’t sound like it.” I nodded at the door, indicating the bathroom across the hallway. “You sounded even worse than Howard after he’s been on the whiskey. You’re staying home to get some rest.”

“But-’’

“And that’s final.”

She should have struck me then or at least gotten angry with me for breaking the promise I made her after it happened the first time. Perhaps it was exasperation combined with the recklessness of the Wolf, which knows it’s an effective way to end any argument. Perhaps it was even a conscious act, the line blurred between the beast and me again in a way that makes it hard to distinguish between who acted.

I growled at her.

Another reason I hate myself at times.

In an attempt to make amends, I patted her head and let out an apologetic whine. I don’t blame her for swatting my paw, no, my hand and pushing me away when I tried to nuzzle her. 

Resigned, I grabbed her phone off her bedside table and left the room. In the quiet hallway, I waited, nauseous with the sharp sting of fear in her scent and the anticipation of the first sobs on the other side of the door. Tough as she may be, any confrontation with potential direct violence nevertheless leaves its mark on her.

After a few moments of nothing, I called her boss to let them know she would take a sick day.

She had her back turned to me when I returned. Afraid of making matters worse, tail tucked between my legs, ears flat against my head, and head bowed I remained by the door. Although, in hindsight, I only did the latter. 

I think.

I’m not sure. 

Tends to happen a lot these days.

“Try to eat something. And drink enough water.”

“Not hungry.”

“Sweetheart, you need to eat.”

“I’ll just puke it out again.”

I sighed and padded around to her side of the bed. The mattress dipped when I sat down, a hand on her cheek. The fact she allowed me to touch her meant she had forgiven me. 

Again. 

More than she should. 

“Guess the shop won’t open today.”

“What? No, Forrest, you can go to work. I’ll be fine. After all, I’m more than capable of looking after myself.” She placed her hand over mine, giving it a squeeze meant to be encouraging yet was so light and meek it only empowered my hunch she wouldn’t be. “Really, it’s okay. Go open your shop. You need the income.”

“Promise me you’ll eat. Even if it’s just some yogurt.” She made a face, evidently not liking being told what to do. However, when it comes to her health, it’s one of the few fields I want to be her authority in.

She’s my mate, so it’s my duty to look after her.

Her skin was cool against my lips when I kissed her forehead. “First, rest. I’ll be right downstairs, so shoot me a message if you need anything.”

Jack can’t live without the thing, always talking to someone, but I hate having a phone. What point is there in being available to everyone all the time? Apparently, no one can stand on their own legs anymore. However, for Y/N, I make an exception.

I want her to reach me.

For us to connect.

Fortunately, today seems to be another quiet day. I have an inkling people are intimidated by me and it affects the customer flow, but right now that’s the least of my concerns. Neither are the boxes with fresh stock that were left on the pavement. Besides, I don’t think anyone would appreciate the sole employee only being able to look at his phone.

Has she eaten? She said she’d try. Does she need anything else? I should’ve made soup before I left. Maybe made a nest. Why hasn’t she sent a message?

My stomach does a somersault as a bleak thought surfaces.

What if something happened and she can’t? Oh God, don’t let it be so.

I put the book in my hands on my lap to reach for my phone once again. It seems neither the scenery nor a good story will bring peace of mind today. The customers can wait, business can wait. I’ll even close the shop if I have to.

The screen lights up with the selfie we took on our last hike. I don’t like having my photo taken, but Y/N insisted we should at least have one together to add to the already small collection. I suppose she’s right. She deserves something to remember me by. 

Still nothing.

I can feel the fangs protruding from my gums as irritation takes over. Though she’s a capable human girl, I hate it when she does this. Trying to act like she’s fine when she needs help. Insisting to take care of herself while she’s sick.

I should be upstairs making sure she’s fed. Run her a bath, change the bedding while she soaks the sickness out, dress her in a fresh pair of pyjamas, and tuck her in. Safe and warm.

“What’re you looking so glum for today, Forrest?” Mrs Talbot, one of my few regulars, puts the book she’s selected on the counter. Slender fingers entwined, she lets her hands rest on it. Seems like she won’t let me ring her up before she’s got an answer.

Bless her.

I clear my throat and slightly let my head hang in apology for my bad mannerisms. “It’s my ma- girlfriend, ma’am. She… she isn’t well.”

“Oh deary, what’s the poor thing come down with?”

“I don’t know, but she can’t stomach food or drink. I told her to at least try to eat something, but I don’t think she will.” I clench and release my fists. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t worry, my son, it’s stomach flu season. Besides, she isn’t a Wolf, so it’s not surprising she’s caught the damned bug.”

“You- You know what I am?” I blink a few times, trying to register her words. Judging by the air of calm seriousness around her, I heard her correctly.

“I’ve seen you and your brothers skulking around my orchard, yes.” A warm though knowing smile spreads on Mrs Talbot’s thin lips, blue eyes alight with mischief. “My Reggie was one too. Besides, and this was a long time ago, mind you, I used to be a doctor for people like you.”

Why is it that old women have the most astounding secrets, the most vivid lives?

“She’ll be alright, dear. Make her a cup of tea and let her rest. Oh, and warmth. That’s important too.” She gives me a cheeky wink. “I can attest to that from first-hand experience.”

Well, Wolves have a higher body temperature so I suppose I’m warm enough. Gives me a chance to practise cuddling.

“Thank you, ma’am, for the advice.” I bite down the cheerful yap aching to come out. “It’s easier to care for my brothers than her. Humans are frailer, needing more to survive.”

“Fortunately, it sounds like the lucky girl has a Wolf watching over her. How much do I owe you?”

Out of gratitude and the small piece of solace she’s given me, I tell Mrs Talbot the novel is on the house. After all, it’s the least I can do to repay the various kindnesses she’s shown me since I arrived here and opened the shop. Albeit a bit reluctantly, she eventually agrees and leaves.

The rest of the day is quiet. Overall, I think most time was spent reading by the window or pacing around the shop to clear my head. Fortunately, there is no one to be insulted by my frequent use of my phone. Also, I don’t mind the occasional truly slow day, but with Y/N sick in bed it’s close to maddening.

As soon as six o’clock rolls around, I close up the shop and rush up the stairs on the side of the building. I burst through the front door and head to the bedroom.

She’s where I left her, a half-full jug of water and a vegetable sandwich with a small bite taken out of it on the bedside table. “I’m home.”

Her eyes wander from the screen of her e-reader, a faint smile on her lips. “So I heard.”

I crouch down at her side and cup her cheek. Her skin is still colder than it should be. The nauseating sour note underlining her scent hasn’t decreased. “Got through the day alright?”

“Yeah, read a lot mostly.” She nods at the television on the dresser. “Watched a movie too.”

“Good,” I say before I get up and walk to the kitchen to make her some oatmeal, taking the sandwich with me. It’s done the trick with Jack and Howard when they couldn’t hold anything down so it should work for her too. Ma’s recipe works wonders.

You shouldn’t try solid food like this. Too many fibres and gluten. Will only agitate your stomach.

A few minutes later, I return to the bedroom. Y/N scrunches her nose when she notices the contents of the bowl in my hand.

“Oatmeal’s good for you.”

“Don’t like it.”

“It’ll provide some of the nutrients you need and you haven’t eaten all day.”

“Could barely keep the water down.”

“But water ain’t food. Please.” I put the bowl on the bedside table, kick off my shoes, sit down on the edge of the bed, and rest my forehead against hers. Though I hate to do it, I manipulate my scent in hopes of convincing her. Being a Wolf is a blessing and a curse. “One bite. The rest don’t matter, but try at least that one bite.”

Y/N uses my fingers to warm hers, devoid of their usual warmth, up. “Go make dinner for yourself. I can do one day without food.”

I huff and shake my head. “Not hungry. Besides, I ain’t eating if you aren’t.”

The mere thought of having to sit alone at the dinner table makes my stomach roil. To have to face the emptiness of the kitchen when she isn’t there to watch me cook or vice versa. To not cook together because one of us has found a new recipe online or wants to try something new. To be alone in the silence, which won’t be broken by the occasional excited clap or one of those pleased little outcries she does when something tastes good.

She scoffs, her eyes closed as she raises my palm to her cheek to bask in its warmth. “So it’s okay for you not to eat, but not for me?”

“You’re sick, Y/N. It’s important to eat when you’re sick.”

“I’m fine, Forrest.”

“Then why is your hand cold, hm? Why does the stink of disease underline your scent?” I swallow the snarl bubbling in my throat, which transforms into a powerless whine. Gently, I brush my thumb over her skin. “Please, honey. Just one bite, that’s all I ask.”

She lets out a deep sigh of resignation. “Fine. But if I throw up again, it’s on you.”

“You won’t,” I shake my head, retract my hand to grab the bowl, and hold up a spoonful for her. “The family recipe don’t work that way. It heals, nourishes. Ma always made it for my brothers and I when we were pups. Basically raised us on the stuff.”

“Let’s hope it does the same for me.”

Gaze fixed on the oatmeal, she takes a few deep breaths to steel herself. Then she leans in to let me feed her. She swallows the food fast, nose scrunched. Nonetheless, the second after, after her eyebrows shoot up in wonder. “Wow, that… that’s pretty good.”

“Want another bite?” I try to restrain the delight causing a pleasant buzz in my limbs. After all, I don’t think she’d appreciate me pouncing on and licking her.

She nods carefully, considering her stomach.

One bite follows another and soon the bowl is empty. I pluck a tissue from the box beside the jug and clean her mouth, purring. “Attagirl. There.”

Y/N slumps beneath the sheets, rolled on her side in the fetus position. Curled up like a pup. “That was nice. Really tasty.”

“That’s good to hear. Let’s make it an early night. You need to rest.”

“I’m plenty rested. Been in bed all day.”

“Until ten o’clock. Afterwards, it’s lights out.”

She pouts, evidently disagreeing with me. However, the murmured ‘‘fine’’ is affectionate, glad to be looked after.

After cleaning up and changing into something more comfortable, I settle into the sheets next to her. Acting on Mrs Talbot’s advice, I scoot closer to put my chest against her back. A hand on her stomach, I entwine my legs with hers. This cuddling sure is an effective way to keep her in place.

There. Warmth. This is how you do it, right?

Then again, it looks like only one form of it. In the movies and series we saw, it happened in various ways. In bed, on the couch, on a bench in a park. Sometimes the male human would drape his arm over the female human’s shoulders to pull her close, but that’s not possible in our current position. She also can’t sit on my lap. I guess the most important thing is for our bodies to be close, touching.

No, this is right.

“Um, Forrest, what are you doing?” Y/N glances over her shoulder, an eyebrow cocked.

“They do this in the movies, when a man likes a woman.’’ I lean back a bit to try and discover where the fault in it all lies. ‘‘Don’t like it? Or am I doing it wrong?”

She merely laughs, a lovely sound which melts the tenseness in my muscles. “You watch too many movies. They give a false image of what romance is.” 

She tries to flip around, but the hold I have on her prevents it. The look of surprise when she notices she can’t move her legs turns into amused resignation. She falls back into the pillow. “Forrest, can I get my legs back?”

“Do you need them?”

“Well, yeah. How else am I gonna get out of bed?”

“You won’t. You stay here, shut your pretty eyes after we watch a movie or a series, whatever you want, and sleep. No getting up.”

“How about you? If you get up, what will prevent me from doing the same?”

I nuzzle into her, briefly burying my face between her shoulder blades before doing so in her hair. Her scent has mixed with mine, underlining the cherry blossom and spice shampoo she uses. I let out a content sigh. “I ain’t going nowhere.”

Not until she’s better.

And even afterwards I’ll remain at her side.

I’ll stay.

Have to.

Because she’s my mate.

My responsibility.

My anchor.