#echo you were meant to ask how much he cost
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Luxury
Fives *standing infront of Echo posing*: I'm a luxury few can afford.
Echo *not looking up from cleaning his blaster*: Great. If I didn't buy you go away and bother someone else.
Fives *lowering his arms*: No. Hold on, you were meant to ask how much I-
Echo *shooing motions with his hand, stepping towards shipwide comm*: Shoo. I didn't buy you since I can't afford you.
Fives *stepping closer to Echo*: Wait vod-
Echo *making a shipwide announcement*: Can anyone afford this bothersome luxury?Identification is CT- 5555, but he goes by Fives.
#poor Rex has a migraine#echo you were meant to ask how much he cost#for you vod? a hug#arc trooper fives#arc trooper echo#fives#echo#fives and echo#arc troopers#domino twins#star wars#the clone wars#tcw#clone wars#incorrect star wars quotes#incorrect clone wars quotes#501st#501st shenanigans
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Hey! could you please write something about Aemond hearing his name in a conversation, he stays at the door sure he will hear something bad but instead he hears the lady talk about her sex dreams about him
Thank you so much💙
Warnings: Smut.
Word count: ~1400
Aemond strides down the corridor of the Red Keep, in the direction of the training yard. It is mid-morning and his schedule runs like clockwork - he has a sparring session with Ser Criston Cole in 15 minutes and fully intends to arrive early, he always does.
Raucous laughter echoes down the hallway. He catches the source of it through a crack in the solar door, which has been left ajar. Helaena’s ladies in waiting are all reclining on the couches inside, though there is no sign of the Princess which they are in service of.
He scowls. He doesn’t understand why they aren’t shut away when not in Helaena’s presence. They are always laughing, it gives him a migraine. What could possibly be so funny?
The giggles subside when one of them speaks in hushed tones.
“I had a dream last night…about Prince Aemond.”
His ears prick up at this, his curiosity piqued, and he hovers to the left of the doorframe, so he can listen in undetected. He is certain that what is to follow will be some gruesome retelling of the One-Eyed Prince being the source of night terrors, it would not be the first time he has overheard unkind words about himself.
“Oh? Do share.” One of them pipes up.
“I-I can’t.” She stammers. “It is improper.”
Aemond’s eye widens at this. He leans forward, peering through the gap to see which of them it is. She is pretty. Beautiful, actually. He has never bothered to take the time to properly look at any of them before, usually doing his best to avoid them at all costs, but there is no denying that she is fairer than any woman he has ever looked upon. He hopes more than anything that the rest of this wretched gaggle can convince her to divulge further details.
More giggles erupt, before a voice chimes in.
“Oh, go on, your secret’s safe with us!”
“Well…we were coupling…and it felt good…I have heard that lying with a man is painful and uncomfortable, but I was enjoying it, and after…he pleasured me with his mouth…”
This is a chorus of gasps, followed by more laughing.
Aemond feels his heart hammering inside of his chest. It seems so loud he is certain the ladies in the solar will notice and catch him in the act of eavesdropping. His skin flushes hot from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. He is in utter disbelief at what he has just heard.
“Were you not repulsed by it? He is disfigured after all.”
“No.” She rebuffs. “Actually, I find Prince Aemond rather dashing…”
Aemond pushes off of the wall and hurries away. He has heard enough. He does not know how to handle the words he was just privy to. They were not meant for his ears and yet he cannot undo hearing them. What is he supposed to do with the way they have set his pulse racing? He never asked for this, had never even noticed her before today, and yet he cannot help replaying the words in his mind.
We were coupling.
It felt good.
He pleasured me with his mouth.
I find Prince Aemond rather dashing.
For the first time in his life he is late to the training yard. Ser Criston greets him with a reproachful look, before Aemond suffers through what is undoubtedly the worst sparring session he has participated in since he first took up a wooden sword as a child.
We were coupling.
His sword is knocked from his hand.
It felt good.
His shield splinters under a blow from a morningstar.
He pleasured me with his mouth.
He is knocked to the ground.
I find Prince Aemond rather dashing.
The point of Criston’s sword is at his throat.
“Is everything alright, My Prince?” Criston asks with genuine concern, offering out a hand and helping Aemond back to his feet.
Aemond’s eye is wide, his breathing laboured, and not from the exertion of training.
“I-I think I am unwell, Cole. Please excuse me.”
He stalks back inside, seeking solace in the library. Pulling a copy of Unnatural History from the shelf, his favourite book to lose himself in, he settles into an armchair and begins to read.
“The bloodmages of Valyria used wyvern stock to create dragons…we were coupling…The bloodmages of Valyria…it felt good…”
“Seven hells!” He slams the book shut upon realising he cannot get past the first line, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.
He pleasured me with his mouth.
He has never heard of a man doing such a thing to a woman. Despite the vulgarity of it, he is intrigued. He places his copy of Unnatural History on the nearby table and stands, making his way towards the end of the library that contains the more salacious reading material.
He takes a quick look around to make sure the prying eyes of the maesters aren’t watching him, before scanning the shelves and selecting the tome he feels will be most relevant for what he is attempting to research.
It only takes a few seconds of flicking through the pages before he finds what he’s looking for. Graphic descriptions of how women can be prepared for intercourse, and even brought to peak, via the use of lips and tongue.
His eye widens and his breathing quickens as he imagines licking her in her most intimate area. It’s only when he realises that his cock is now straining painfully against the laces of his breeches that he hurriedly places the book back on the shelf and retires to his chambers.
He lays on his bed that afternoon, spilling into his own hand, with her name falling from his lips like an urgent prayer.
She is there at the dining table when he goes to supper that evening. It is not unusual for Helaena to invite her ladies in waiting to dine with them, and usually Aemond sits at the far end of the table, avoiding eye contact and all attempts at conversation. However, this evening feels different. Prior to tonight he had never heard her say she found him “dashing”, he had never pleasured himself to the thought of burying his face between her thighs.
Guilt blooms heavily in his chest as he takes his seat. His food remains untouched. Every time he looks up he catches her eyes upon him. Does she know? How could she?
In truth, he cannot keep his eyes off of her either and it is probably that that drives her to stare as she does.
On an ordinary evening, Aemond sips delicately at his wine throughout the meal, leaving the cup almost full by the time he leaves the table. However, tonight he finds himself draining his first and gulping greedily at the second. The calming effect it has on his nerves is most agreeable to him.
He pleasured me with his mouth.
His grip on the edge of the wooden table turns his knuckles white, as he struggles to compose himself. His sigh of relief is almost audible as the meal draws to a close and everyone begins to retire for the evening.
He catches sight of her outside of her own bedchamber door as he is returning to his. Fuelled by the confidence that two cups of wine on an empty stomach has granted him, he lengthens his strides, catching up to her before she is able to make it inside and close the door.
She turns, startled, as he grabs her arm, pulling her towards him.
“My Prince?” She asks, a hint of fear and confusion pinching her delicate features as her brow furrows slightly.
Acting on his new found boldness, Aemond leans down to whisper in her ear, his voice husky. “I heard what you said earlier.”
He regards her face carefully as he pulls back, but there is no apparent recollection, so he decides to be more daring. Leaning in once more he says “Just so you know, if I were going to pleasure you with my mouth, I’d do it before I stuck my cock in your cunt, not after.”
He lets her go and walks away with a smirk. When he chances a glance back over his shoulder and sees that she is still frozen in place, her mouth agape, he knows that she knows exactly what he is talking about and his words have had the desired effect.
“Sweet dreams, my lady.” He calls behind him.
#aemond targaryen#aemond stannies#prince aemond targaryen#aemond#aemond one eye#pro aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x reader#house of the dragon#hotd#aemond targaryen fan fiction#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen fan fic#aemond targaryen fanfic#hotd fan fiction#hotd fanfiction#hotd fanfic#hotd fan fic
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Suit and Tie ˋ♡ˊ
phillip graves x fem!reader
help me pick out a suit yeah? 1.6k words
pet names, innuendos, alc, some swearing
graves masterlist!!
₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗
It was a slow day, as usual. High-end suits were not usually an everyday purchase for some, and the store's main cash flow was regulars who had their suits delivered. This meant another boring day of reorganizing an already spotless store. You busied yourself behind the counter pretending to be going over the delivery list for tomorrow when in reality it had already been looked over 3 times today.
That was until the door chimed, and a brand new customer walked in just an hour before closing. Perfect. Your eyes flickered up to greet him, and wow did he look out of place. Of course, it isn't polite to judge a book by its cover, but sometimes if you wanted to make enough commission to cover your rent a few assumptions were necessary. Typical customers came dressed for the part, maybe they were overcompensating but it sure made your job easier. This one was different, old blue jeans with obvious fraying, a blue button-up that was just a shade lighter than the jeans, and black dirty work boots. You had seen the type before but it had been awhile.
“Sorry sir, we don’t sell jeans here. Can I redirect you to a different store?” Maybe it was a tad rude but there was no way this guy was serious, and you weren't in the mood to have your time wasted.
He laughed, walking further into the store and right up to the counter. The man rested his palms on the glass countertop, leaning closer as he whispered, “Good thing I’m not lookin’ for jeans.” A smirk danced on his lips as he leaned back and stood up straight. “Phillip Graves, I need a suit doll, help me pick one out?”
The forwardness caught you off guard, you could feel the heat rising to your face. Maybe he wasn't going to waste your time? Trying to keep your composure you walked out from behind the counter, heels clicking against the wooden floors in the suit shop. Phillip Graves, the name echoed in your head, bouncing around, and making sure you wouldn't forget it. “Can I ask what the occasion is?”
“Mhm,” he rubbed his jaw as he thought. While he took his time, you took in his appearance. A pretty blonde, blue eyes, a stubbled jawline with the faintest scar on his cheek, who was Phillip Graves? “Military thing,” he finally said.
“So you’re military?” you scoffed, now sifting through a rack of suits.
“You could say that.” He walked over to join you by the racks. “I’m not sure if I’m goin’ yet, but better be prepared,” he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Do you know your inseam?” turning to face him, eyeing him up and down trying to gauge what it could be.
“Got me there, not a clue. Been a long time since I got a real nice suit,”
“Figured,” you laughed, Graves tilted an eyebrow up at you jokingly. “Go to the fitting rooms, just over there,” you pointed off towards the pedestal in front of the big mirrors, “and I’ll get your measurements, then we can start trying some stuff on yeah?”
“Whatever the pretty lady says,” Phillip walked over to the mirrors and stepped up onto the pedestal. You were just a few paces behind him with a loose tape measure. Taking the measuring tape in both hands you kneeled down in front of him. It wasn't hard to feel how his eyes burned into you as you began to line the tape measure against his inner thigh. Your fingers ran down his leg along with the numbers as you took his measurements. Carefully you stood up, taking a mental note of the number of his inseam.
“Large?” Phillip raised his eyebrows, “Maybe extra large?”
“No, and not how it works” you quickly retorted, lightly slapping his chest with the tape measure. “Stay here, I’ll go pull some options. Need a drink?”
“A drink? Thought this was a suit store, not a bar,”
“Well it’s a high-end suit store, and if you're willing to pay as much as these suits cost then I can swing one whiskey your way,”
“And how am I supposed to say no to that?”
“Thought so,” smiling, you walked back into the main showroom looking for some options. After a few minutes of digging you pulled a few different suits and brought them back to Phillip.
“Here you go Mr. Graves,” you hung each suit on a different hook in the fitting room and motioned for Phillip to go ahead.
“Mr. Graves,” he smirked, “No one’s called me that in a while.” As you stepped out of the fitting room to make room for him, you scrunched your face in confusion to which he caught on. “Sorry, I’m a Commander, usually it’s just Commander or Phillip. I don’t really hear mister too often now,”
“So which do you prefer, Commander?”
Phillip could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand as you used his rank to address him. He wasn't blind, you were stunning. It didn't help that just minutes ago you were already on your knees for him. His heart nearly pounded out of his chest as he waited for you to get his measurements, any longer and Phillip could have sworn he was going to faint. Graves’ eyes met with yours, “Just call me Phillip hon’,”
“Well, let me go get you that drink Phillip. Go ahead and start trying these on,”
“Will do,” he winked, tugging the velvety curtain across the fitting room entryway. While Phillip tried on his first suit, you went to get his drink. The bar cart wasn't far, it was important to have it close for the clients to feel welcome. Pulling out a glass you poured the whiskey in, glancing at your watch you realized it was past close. If this was any other customer maybe you would've been bothered, but you had grown quite fond of Commander Phillip Graves. Deciding to treat yourself, you poured a second glass before setting the top-shelf bottle back down.
“Phillip, I have that drink whenever you’re done in there,”
“Go ‘head and open the curtain for me, I’m just about done,” his voice was muffled as he spoke. Setting down your glass of whiskey, you walked over to the curtain with Phillip’s drink in hand and pulled back the divider. To your surprise, Phillip was nowhere near being done. The Commander was standing shirtless, only getting the dress pants on before giving up it seemed.
“Ah thanks, darlin’,” he slipped the whiskey out of your grasp and took a swig before setting it down on the small table in the fitting room. Your mind was elsewhere, eyes too busy taking in the physique of the man in front of you. He was fit, clearly, the military would do that to you. There were various scars, probably from combat but if anything it made him that much more attractive. “See somethin’ you like?” the southern drawl snapped you from your trance.
The Commander laughed before turning around facing the mirror in the fitting room, his back now towards you. Fuck, his back, his shoulder, his everything. If you hadn't just met this man today, especially considering the fact he is a customer, you would be all over him. Honestly, you weren't even sure if that was enough to stop you at this point. Graves began to slip the white button-up on, your eyes glued to his back intently watching how his muscles flexed.
“I like that suit,” you quipped back, trying to play off your obvious staring.
“Just the suit?” Phillip turned back around, now taking his time buttoning up the shirt. His abs peeking through the fabric
“Just the suit, I picked it out you know,”
“I know, that’s why I like it,” he finished the buttons and glanced up at you.
“You need a tie, one second,” it was part excuse and part serious. He was a sweet talker, always knowing exactly what to say and it was becoming impossible to hide the effect he was having on you. Grabbing a pale blue tie, you returned having regained some composure. “Here try this, just for the full effect,”
“Look at you, thought I was just comin’ in for jeans, now you’re pickin’ me out ties,” he teased as he adjusted the tie around his neck in the mirror.
“Hm and you still need new jeans,” you giggled, picking up your whiskey, and taking a small sip as you watched him finish getting dressed. Phillip was finally done and stepped out of the fitting room and back onto the pedestal.
“How’s it look?”
Taking your time, you walked around him surveying the fit of the suit. Your hands ran along the sleeves of the jacket, “A bit loose through here, but we can get this tailored.” You continued and kneeled down in front of him again, tracing the inseam of the black dress pants. “And how’s the fit on these? Do you like it?”
Phillip let out a cough, “Yeah, these are good,” he shifted in place as you stood back up.
“Perfect,” your hands ran down the collar, grabbing onto the lapels, “Well, now we know what fits, it all comes down to what you want to do,”
“What I wanna do?” he huffed out, his head rolling back slightly, “I wanna take you out on a proper date that’s what I wanna do,”
“Oh?” it took you by surprise, in a good way.
“I mean, already saw me half naked. I think we skipped a few steps but a date would be a good place to start. Don’t you think darlin’,”
“I think a date is good,” you leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on Phillip’s cheek, “Now about these suits…”
₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗
#phillip graves#philip graves x reader#phillip graves x reader#phillip graves x you#graves x reader#graves mw2#cod mw2#philip graves#phillip graves imagine#phillip graves cod#cod x reader#call of duty mw2 x reader#call of duty x reader
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Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing) - Tyre Change
Requested: yup
Prompt: Teammate Max (a request I'm getting a lot)
Warnings: slight teammate bickering
"Oh what the fuck?" Y/n asked as she stepped out of her car, staring at the front wheel, the steam practically pouring off it from the sheer heat of it. "What the fuck am I meant to do?" She whispered to herself. She was in Monaco so she couldn't call her dad or brother to come help like usual.
On a moonlit night in Monaco, up in the mountains borderline middle of nowhere, Y/n found herself stranded with a flat tire. Frustration etched across her face, she heard footsteps approaching. To her surprise, Max had emerged from the shadows. His car had stopped right next to hers, with the window rolled down to talk to her. "Hi." She replied with a fake smile. As Max approached, he couldn't resist a playful remark. "Looks like your car can't handle the pressure. Nice to see not much changes during the off season." Y/n rolled her eyes, retorting. "Don't act like you've never had a flat, Max. And I handle pressure just fine, thank you." Max smirked. "We'll see about that. So have you called a breakdown service?" He asked. Y/n shook her head. "Why?" Max asked. "It'd cost me an arm and a leg out here! I was actually hoping a fan would just pop up and offer their services for free and it seems like my biggest fan is here." Max chuckled as Y/n smiled at him. "Let me show you how it's done." Max said, grabbing the tyre change tools from the boot of his car. "
"I- I can't change the tyre." She said. "That's okay. I didn't know how to until I was like 18? My dad nearly-" Y/n stopped him right there. "No, I know how to, I just don't have a spare wheel." Max looked at her, almost shocked. "Why?" Y/n shrugged her shoulders. "Well I have a tyre repair kit instead." Max stood up again from inspecting the tyre and practically towered over his teammate. "Why?" Max asked again. "Because when we were given the cars, I ticked the tyre repair kit instead." Y/n explained. "Why didn't you tick both?" Y/n's eyes widened. "You could tick both?" Max laughed and nodded. "Yes?" His teammate groaned and kicked a pebble on the ground. "Oh for fucks sake."
Max, not one to pass up a challenge, offered his assistance with a smirk. "Well, since we have the same car, I'll give you my spare tyre and I'll go get a new one in the factory. How's that sound?" Max asked. Y/n, reluctant yet intrigued, accepted his help. "Right, let's get to work."
As they worked under the dim glow of a streetlamp, banter flowed effortlessly between them. Max's playful jabs and Y/n's sharp retorts created a dance of words in the night air. "Grab the spare tyre." Max said as he used the jack to lift the car up. Y/n nodded and ran over to his car, trying to lift it but finding it difficult due to it basically being in a casing. "Oh don't tell me you can deal eith G-Force but can't lift a tyre!" Max joked as he heard Y/n struggling. Y/n scoffed, attempting to lift the spare. "I'd like to see you do this!" Challenge accepted, Max agreed to swap places with her. "Alright." Max stood up and walked over to the boot, lifting it. It seemed so easy when he did it. He smirked and began rolling the tyre over to her car.
Between lug nuts and tyre irons, they discovered shared interests and common ground. The tension of rivals shifted to the camaraderie of allies. As the tyre spun off, Max teased. "Maybe you should consider keeping a pit crew in your boot." Max joked. Laughter echoed across the quiet road as they exchanged stories, the rivalry softening into a genuine connection.
Underneath the star-studded sky, Max and Y/n shared a moment of understanding. She reminded him him much of himself when he was younger; stubborn and determined. The tire replaced, Max couldn't resist a teasing grin. With the tire securely in place, Y/n turned to her teammate. "I never thought I'd say this, but thanks, Max. I guess you're not as unbearable as you seem." Y/n smiled. "Guess I'm not your worst teammate after all." He remarked. Y/n, rolled her eyes. "Don't let it get to your head, Verstappen." She mumbled. Max winked, playfully nudging her. "See, I knew you'd warm up to me eventually. Now, if you ever need a pit stop, you know where to find me."
Their exchange shifted from rivalry to camaraderie, laughter mingling with the night air. Max's hands-on lesson transformed into a Canon event, turning enemies into reluctant allies. "Well, I'll make it up to you somehow. I promise." Y/n said. "Eh, a coffee will do but I'm not very picky about being paid back. I think it's payback enough that you're always behind me in race weekends." Max joked, making Y/n laugh gently. "Touché." The pair walked back back their respective cars, before they drove off into the night, the shared adventure left an unexpected bond between them – a connection forged on a roadside under the stars.
#f1 blurb#f1 imagine#f1 oneshot#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen imagines#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen
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A/N I have some requests in the chain above this one but wanted to post something that was a stand alone and not a part to another fic I wrote earlier because of how long I have been away. I promise the two requests lined up before this (pt 3 of till death do us part and pt 4 to cover up) will be out soon! Also, this request reminds me of Cinder by Marissa Meyer so there is some mild inspo from that in here (and loose quoting. sorry. I got carried away.).
What it Means to be a Person (Alastor x Cyborg!Reader)
Pairing: Alastor x Reader
Description: Y/n gave an arm and a leg to the fight against the exterminators and feels she has lost her humanity by the bionic replacements Lucifer and Charlie gifted her in return. Alastor reminds her that not all is lost, she can still dance, after all.
Warnings: Hurt//comfort. This might've ended up a little more angsty than intended and I kinda ran away with the prompt. Sorry about that.
Word Count: 2,246
Master Lists:
Master Lists
Hazbin Hotel Master List
Alastor Master List
Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.
“Imagine there was a cure, but it would cost you everything. What would you do?”
Y/n's question hung in the air of the dimly lit kitchen, echoing off the uncertainties late hours like this one always seemed to carry. Alastor froze where he stood by the stove, his hang halfway to the kettle whistling away upon it. He turned to face her where she sat at the far end of the rough hewn kitchen table, her head in her hands and her hair acting as a curtain, as a shield, hiding her face from view.
The meeting had been an accident. Alastor had found himself craving a cup of tea to accompany his late night preparations for tomorrows broadcast and when he had entered the kitchen, he had found her sitting there. Since the day Y/n had shown up at the hotel in all her bright and wild exuberance, Alastor had felt a connection with the girl. She was bubbly, a showman at heart with a soft spot for the macabre, how could he not automatically find a certain level of camaraderie with her? Everything had changed after the battle with Heaven a few weeks before.
Y/n had fought valiantly, using all her brains and brawn to protect the place she had come to call her home and the people she had discovered to be her family. The battle did not take her life, but she did give an arm and a leg to its hungry fervor. With Lucifer's help, Charlie had managed to get her an appointment with a well known doctor in Pentagram City. The man had given Y/n back her ability to stand, to reach for things, but had taken the mangled remains of her human form in the process. She had been brought back to square one, learning how to walk, to hold a pencil. She had been filled to the brim with wires that allowed her to control her new appendages.
The conversation had been an accident as well. Alastor hadn't meant to open the can of worms he was now sifting through. He had just spotted her sitting there, had casually asked how she was doing. Y/n was always so human, so much more human than he was capable of being. It was the only thing that had ever held him back from taking what he wanted, that wild and irrevocable humanity of hers.
"I would take the cure." Alastor replied after a moment, turning back to the stove and at last lifting the kettle, pouring the hot water into his favorite mug, "It would be better than the alternative."
With a decided intent in his step, he made his way over to her. The legs of the chair scraped dangerously across the floor as he pulled it out and took a seat beside her. Y/n looked up.
Alastor was shocked at what he saw. Y/n had been hiding since the battle, claiming that she was recuperating. No one had any reason to doubt her given the injuries she had sustained but now, Alastor was not so sure. Her eyes were sunken, dark circles dulling the pink of her cheeks. She was silver in the moonlight as it streamed through the window but she did not shine as she normally seemed to.
"I'm not human anymore."
Y/n's voice was cracked and raw, it only made him love her more. Out of all the creatures in Hell, she was the only one who would worry about such a thing, he was sure of it. Alastor had to stop himself from laughing, focusing on the heat of the cup held between his hands.
"You never were. You haven't been in a long time." he mused in response and Y/n sighed.
"I don't feel like a person anymore."
Again, another contradiction. Y/n was a demon, through and through. Not quite an overlord but powerful, well on her way to becoming one. There was nothing human about that in Alastor's eyes. The way he saw it, the moment a soul died they stopped being a person, no matter where in the afterlife they ended up. It was clear she would not agree. They had never talked of such matters before, it was an unexpected revelation. Alastor took a deep breath.
"Why?"
Y/n was silent, her eyes returning to the table as she traced the grains of the wood. It was unlike him, the concern, the curiosity for such an emotional matter. Alastor had long since given up on trying to make sense of the things she provoked in him. He tried again.
"How do you define being human? Is it what you look like? What you're made up of? Or is it who you are."
It was a clumsy attempt. There had been no need to provide comfort for a long time, not since Alastor had been alive. He was out of practice but, he supposed, caring for another was rather like riding a bike. Once you learned how it was done, you never really forgot.
"Who you are but..." Y/n's eyes met his once again, the conflict occuring behind them apparent.
She was unsheltered, the facade was gone. Alastor would consider himself close with the demon, closer perhaps than anyone else at the hotel but still, he had never seen her like this. His heart hurt.
"At the same time," she continued solemnly, "there is more to it than that."
"How do you define humanity?"
Y/n thought for a moment.
"Dancing. Spending time with friends, having people who care about you. Making meals together, reading books and poetry. Making art. Feeling one with the world around you, being a part of the earth we all come from."
Alastor held another laugh at bay. It wasn't out of the blue but, at the same time, there was something strange about hearing the words as they left her lips. He took a sip of his drink, the hot liquid worming its way down his throat and into his stomach.
"Doesn't the fact that you now find yourself to be inhuman at all show at least some of those?"
Y/n cocked her head to the side in confusion, her brow furrowing. Alastor sighed, leaning back in his chair.
"What I mean is that the reason you have those bionic limbs of yours at all is because you have people who care about you enough to get them for you and you cared enough about other people to give up what you originally had. If that isn't having people who care about you, spending time with friends, being one with the world around you, I don't know what is."
"But I am not of the earth any longer." Y/n ruefully replied.
"You are."
"How? I am naught but metal now. I traded steel for skin."
In the weakness of the night breeze, she seemed to slip into the skin she once wore. Flowery language, a posh, nearly transatlantic accent, shoulders straight and strong, all reminders of her upper class upbringing from so long ago. He could almost see her now as she must've been. It was a trick of the light.
"You were buried, right?"
Y/n nodded.
"I believe so. Beside my mother."
"Then you are forever of the earth."
"To the earth we must return," Y/n nodded after a moment in solemn agreement, "but I will never dance again."
Alastor had never even known it was something she had enjoyed. The time for questions was later, he got to his feet, his cup left abandoned on the table.
Alastor summoned his staff with a wave of his hand, leaning it against the sideboard as a soft song began playing from its speaker. Turning to Y/n once again, he offered her his hand. Y/n eyed it tentatively before reaching out her own to grab it.
With a shake of Alastor's head, she halted mid movement. He didn't need words to get his point across, Y/n just didn't like it. Lowering her hand, she raised the other. It was heavier, made from something other than flesh. There was an ungainly sense to the way she moved it. It didn't flow graceful through the air, it was too heavy for that. The metal of her fingers was cold and harsh against his palm as he helped her ineptly to her feet.
"Ella Fitzgerald." she mused softly, her eyes on his microphone.
"I didn't know you liked jazz."
Y/n's eyes met his once again and she gave him a half hearted smile.
"Growing up in the 1930s and being someone who held distaste towards jazz would have been an impossibility, wouldn't you agree?"
He had known she was alive sometime around the turn of the century but, that had been it. Alastor grinned from ear to ear at this subtle revelation.
"I knew there was a reason I liked you."
Letting go of her hand, Alastor took a step back. He bowed. Y/n couldn't help it, she laughed a little.
"What on earth are you doing?"
Alastor looked up at her, still bowing as their eyes met. Slowly, he straightened himself up, holding a hand out to her once again.
"Y/n, would you do me the absolute honor of sharing this dance?"
He had hoped his showmanship would make her smile, make her laugh even, the way it normally did. Instead, she withdrew her arms to her chest, taking a halting step backwards as she shook her head. Alastor's gaze softened. He had never seen her afraid before.
"Please."
"I..."
Y/n's eyes flitted wildly around the room, searching for any excuse, any fodder for her escape. At last, she relented, hesitantly placing her hand back into his own.
"Okay."
Her voice was soft, almost breathless. Alastor pulled her into him, snaking an arm around her waist as she placed her other on his shoulder.
"See?" he asked as they began to dance, "All is not lost to you."
There was nothing elegant about her movements. Y/n grimaced.
"But it is not the same either. Once I was something grand."
"Change is inevitable. You are still someone grand."
"Not change like this."
Alastor spun her out, catching Y/n in his arms as she almost tripped over the weight of her foot.
"Why do you hate it so much? Is it vanity?"
“Vanity is a factor," Y/n admitted, "but it is more a question of control. It is easier to trick others into perceiving you as beautiful if you can convince yourself you are beautiful. But mirrors have an uncanny way of telling the truth and I am not made up of the same materials I once was."
"Change is inevitable." Alastor said again and was overjoyed when Y/n rolled her eyes, smiling slightly as his response, "You're still beautiful, almost more so now."
This took her aback. The tingle of a question at the back of her mind was outweighed by shock. She stilled, still pressed close to Alastor as the music filtered softly into their ears.
"What?"
"Before you shined, but just on the inside." Alastor admitted, refusing to look away from her wide eyes even as he felt the heat rush to his cheeks, "Now you do on the outside as well, see?"
He held the hand he clasped tightly in his own up to the light streaming in through the window. The moon glinted off the silver surface of the metal, sending playful patterns scattering across the walls of the kitchen. Y/n's breath caught in her throat.
"And you can still dance. Why don't you help me with dinner tomorrow?"
It was something they had done on occasion before the extermination, cook for the inhabitants of the Hazbin Hotel together.
"Why are you doing this?"
The smile slipped from Alastor's face.
"I don't understand." Y/n shook her head, pushing herself away from Alastor and wrapping her arms around her torso, "Why are you doing all this for me?"
The answer was simple. Sometimes, the truest things in life are.
"Because I love you." he admitted, "And it pains me to see you like this."
"I..."
He had known it was too good to be true. The music stopped, his staff vanishing into thin air as quickly as it had appeared.
"I'll go. Just... make sure you get some sleep tonight, I know you havent been."
He was halfway to the door, mostly past her, when he felt the cool grip of her hand on the exposed skin of his wrist. Alastor stopped, he turned. There was a minute bravery in the act. Not that she had stopped him, that she had grabbed his arm. If anything, that was the most normal thing that had occurred all evening. No, it was the arm she had chosen to use, the one she held such conflict over and saw as something to be embarrassed about, ashamed of.
She stood tense in the moonlight, her free hand raised to her chest.
"I..."
Y/n's mind was spinning, her thoughts firing off at a thousand miles a minute. She wanted to say it, knew it was true, but something stopped her. She wasn't ready.
"Thank you, Alastor."
Alastor smiled softly, almost sadly over at her. Gently, he removed her hand from his wrist, holding it in his own and patting it gently.
"Always."
------
QUOTES REFERENCED (BECAUSE I REFUSE TO STEAL OTHERS WORK EVEN FOR A FANFICTION)
“Imagine there was a cure, but it would cost you everything. What would you do?” -> taken from “Imagine there was a cure, but finding it would cost you everything. It would completely ruin your life. What would you do?” in Cinder by Marissa Meyer
“Vanity is a factor," Y/n admitted, "but it is more a question of control. It is easier to trick others into perceiving you as beautiful if you can convince yourself you are beautiful. But mirrors have an uncanny way of telling the truth and I am not made up of the same materials I once was." -> taken from “Vanity is a factor, but it is more a question of control. It is easier to trick others into perceiving you as beautiful if you can convince yourself you are beautiful. But mirrors have an uncanny way of telling the truth.” in Cinder by Marissa Meyer
TAGS:
@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0@kahlan170@wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007
#hazbin hotel#x reader#alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon#x reader fics#fic writer#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel angst#alastor hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel x you#cyborg reader#cyborg#cinder#alastor imagines#alastor x you#alastor x reader#hurt/comfort#the radio demon x reader#radio demon x reader#the radio demon#radio demon#requested#requests open#requests#request#alastor angst
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Part 9 - left its seeds while I was sleeping
“Hello darkness, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again. Because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping. And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains within the sound of silence.” -The Sound of Silence by Disturbed
Masterlist Part 8
It was the lack of air in her lungs that woke Jazz up, gasping for air and fingers desperately trying to find a beating pulse at her neck.
With a sigh of relief, Jazz rested her palm against the beat, counting as it started to settle into a resting pace again.
Another nightmare.
Back in Danny’s memorial Jazz had converted from a maintenance access space, she had slept there one Christmas weekend as she learned her little brother would truly never have a peaceful afterlife. The darkness was an old friend, like a worn blanket from childhood that you would hide under because you believed the monsters wouldn’t get you then- embraced her as she was and sheltered her as she mourned her lost humanity and childhood until there were no more tears to cry.
Nonetheless, it couldn’t shelter her from the dreams of death, the echo of Danny’s death scream ghostly wail ricocheting in her skull like the worst sort of pinball game she could ever have the misfortune of playing.
It was no longer Danny’s death or theirs that haunted her with dogged determination, but Jason’s.
(The same man she found herself missing more with each passing day that she didn’t wake in his arms.)
It was horrifically detailed, the nightmares, because Jazz’s imagination painted with vivid color even in sleep. The details Lady Gotham had shared with her were few and far between, considering she didn’t care for talking about her favorite bird’s murder.
(Beaten, betrayed… waiting for his dad to reach him in time.)
(Only the darkness would ever know how much Jazz cried for a younger Jason, who only wanted his mother’s love, died for it.)
(It spoke to her own childhood, wanting her parents to love her and care for her.)
(What a pair they were.)
Jazz threw off her blankets and got dressed for the day, hair brushed back into a low ponytail and Bracelets hidden under loose sleeves and a glamor. The metal was cool against her warm skin, a comfortable weight on her forearms as she went about her morning in silence, forcing the nightmare back into a box for her never to think about.
Danny emerged only a few minutes after Jazz began making breakfast for them, yawning and raking a scarred hand through his messy hair as he tried to wake up. Her little brother was completely healed from his traumatic experience physically, but she worried about him mentally. Though he was much happier compared to when she first dragged him bleeding and screaming to Gotham, which could also be due to the fact that he has a new Haunt and isn’t vilified by the city as Phantom.
Even if it came at the cost of life, Danny loved being a vigilante.
The signs were there in the little things most of all.
The pride in his voice when he introduced himself as Phantom, delivered puns and witty one-liners with his wicked sense of humor for all to see, thrived in the sense of duty he wrought in Protecting others, even complete strangers. Danny was a hero, but he didn’t need that distinction to want to help, he only wanted to not be hunted for his spooky nature.
Jazz would shoulder that burden for him, take up another mantle if it meant giving Danny a chance to be happy with his existence. Ancients only knew how far she would go for him.
One slash, two, three
Blood is on your hands already.
Fourth, fifth slash
Ask the ghosts if honor matters, buried amongst the ash.
So what if Jazz had a bond with the darkness? So what if she woke up with no air in her lungs, searching for a pulse?
There was nothing else for her to fight for, no greater purpose she could find then to be at Danny’s side through the ups and downs. Jazz had already given up so much, both willingly and unknowingly, to take the crown, to be more than a presence on the sidelines- she was more than a Liminal, Jazz was the damn Regent.
(She ignored the grating reminder of the title being temporary.)
It was only until Jazz watched Danny walk through the door of his school, that it dawned on her what she was feeling….
Jazz was becoming depressed.
-——-———–
With the subtlety of Jack Fenton barreling through a wall, Jazz threw herself into work- both Vigilante and Regent- to ignore the realization and subsequent horror that she was falling into a deep depression.
And it was largely because of Danny.
Ancients, Jazz wanted nothing more than to confront these feelings head on, much like she encouraged her little brother too, but she couldn’t even find where to begin.
She supposed she could find someone to talk to about all this, in a professional manner, but her options were limited.
Spectra was the only ghost with counseling experience, but Jazz would only be leaving a conversation with her worse than when she began.
Frostbite would be of little help with something so human, considering he was an ancient ghost Yeti.
Human. That was it.
Jazz hadn’t considered a human psychiatrist, since most of her health needs thus far were physical and treated by the Yeti tribe, thanks to her ecto-contamination and proto-core.
What if she found a human doctor to see? Jazz had no reason to discuss anything ecto related, only human adjacent, so she could very well find one that suited her and her needs.
Well, that might be a challenge in Gotham.
The Watchtower was host to nearly every possible hero who were to attend Batman’s urgent briefing, many lingering around and questioning what the Bat could’ve had in store for so many of them to be present.
Robin, Red Hood, and Red Robin were counted among the numbers of those present, though only Red Robin had the fully depth of what they were about to be privy to, having been one of three people to sort through the Ghost Files (as they were dubbed by the Batkids).
Robin had demanded to be included, citing his prior experience with The Regent in Crime Alley as reason enough.
(He would not admit that he had been petrified by the vigilante, the death aura freezing him down to his bones.)
Red Hood was there at the request of his younger brother (Tim), Oracle and Batman, though he had yet to understand why.
“Red Robin, begin the presentation.” Batman ordered gruffly as he entered the large meeting hall, Superman and Wonder Woman at his heels, the other heroes trickling in soon after.
Red Robin nodded, took a deep breath and started the presentation slideshow.
Slide #1: Ghosts, Fenton Family, GIW, Anti-Ecto Acts, The Regent and the Phantom
Despite the absurdity of the first slide, no one felt like laughing. Especially when it is in a meeting with the Batman, the Dark Knight and two (?) of his children. Not to mention the existence of Deadman was well known to the Justice League.
“Bloody Hell, Bats, took you long enough.” Constantine had no qualms about poking the man in question with a metaphorical stick, but he had fully expected this briefing to happen a week ago.
“This briefing will be disclosing information granted to us by one of these Ghosts or Ecto-Entities as they are officially classified by the Ghost Investigation Ward or GIW. A serious breach of the Metahuman protection laws has been created and exploited by this government organization, which is responsible for drawing the Human world into the beginnings of an inter dimensional war with the Infinite Realms.” Batman spoke calmly, even if he was holding onto his demeanor by the skin of his teeth.
(He was livid.)
(A dead child had to beg him not to send him to war.)
(A dead child was a Spirit of Protection.)
As expected, the heroes present were disgusted by the actions of the GIW, the diabolical Anti-Ecto Acts passed during Luther’s term.
The worst reactions came during the Fenton Family portion.
The Ghost Files had included so much info on them, Red Robin had to shorten the list of what he would include in the presentation.
The first picture was of the members themselves, posing in front of a brick building with a neon sign of ‘Fentonworks’ glaring annoyingly from the background, casting an off shade of pale green over the subjects.
“The Fenton Family, manufacturers of the weapons sold to the GIW for the express purpose of hunting and capturing ghosts.” Batman began, “The two adults are Madeline and Jack Fenton, ecto-biologists whose prejudiced views on Ecto-Entites seem to be the founding behind the Acts and the GIW.”
The man in the photo was large, a sturdy frame encased in an orange hazmat suit and bearing a wide grin on his face, with an arm around his wife and children. Madeline Fenton was a slight woman, standing at a possible five foot eight and wearing a hazmat suit like her spouse.
The children were the next to be spoken of, “The boy is Daniel Fenton, the youngest, and according to the information given, he was killed in a lab accident at fourteen years old.”
The gasps of horror intermingled with the muttered curses before the Dark Knight silenced them, “Daniel’s older sister, Jasmine, was the primary caregiver for most of his life and after discovering her parents dissecting the town’s protector, a ghost by the name of Phantom, in the same basement lab Daniel died in, Jasmine allowed the Regent to claim their souls so the violence done to Phantom would be avenged.”
It had been quite the shock for Red Robin and Oracle to read that, both at the evidence of cruelty and inhumane experimentation done to a sentient being (a child who died and protected the town) and the admittance that the Regent killed the humans to avenge Phantom.
It wasn’t until Hood grimly smiled and said, “Good for them.” that something clicked.
Phantom was killed by the Fentons and avenged by the Regent of the Ghost King.
(Jason had never been avenged, not like this dead kid.)
There was one file, a video, that Tim refused to share with anyone.
The death of Daniel Fenton.
…and the rebirth.
Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t an idiot. He was born into a bloodline of brilliance, even if such wasn’t always used for the greater good. He had spent years fixing his parents failed inventions, doing the proper equations to figure out how something could work when in reality it had no business existing.
(Designed to view a world unseen.)
He’d learned how to fly a jet and build one at fifteen out of sheer desperation, defeated the Ghost King in the same year…. And was almost killed fully by his parents.
His vivisection scars had healed fully, his removed ribs having regrown, and he could transform without echoes of agony in his chest.
(They had gotten far too close to his core.)
Point was, Danny knew there was something going on with his sister. She had been less talkative since their escape from Amity, but Jazz had been withdrawn since they took Jason to the Batcave. He had suspected that Jazz missed having someone to care for, considering that was the kind of person she’d been for as long as he could remember, but it didn’t seem quite right. There was something sadder in her eyes.
Danny turned his focus back down to what he was doing, shoving the concern down to deal with later when he sees Jazz. Usually English was one of the classes he could relax in, considering he could now actually read the assigned books without worrying about ghost attacks eating into his sleep, but today Danny couldn’t focus on the teacher or the lesson.
He’d had an idea for the ecto-comms, his own creation made from broken Fenton phones. His notebook, which was a mix of notes and half finished designs, was open to the original design of the comms. Danny had to account for Jazz’s helmet when he designed her set, but it was awkward at best to activate it when she needed to talk to him.
Jazz needed armor to protect her vital organs even if her skin was incredibly durable. He’d seen some idiot unload a clip into Jazz’s back, not a single one had pierced her- that had been when she’d intercepted a smuggling ring from inside and had yet to summon her armor or sword.
(The creepy head turn Jazz did to face the idiot was the stuff horror movies were made from.)
(Danny was oddly proud.)
No, the armor was to protect against ghosts. Ecto-blasts would severely injure Jazz despite her liminalality, unlike Danny who could just go intangible or manipulate the ectoplasm in his body around the blast.
“Did you hear about the Anti-Ecto Acts?” one of his classmates whispered from somewhere behind him, causing Danny to automatic tune his hearing into the conversation.
“Yeah, that stuff is sick. Phantom is a pretty cool dude, even if he’s dead.”
“He’s got puns for days, man.”
“But still, ghosts?”
“We got aliens, dude and you’re drawing the line at ghosts?”
“Ugh, fine.”
“Just read the whole article, man.”
“It’s the daily planet.”
“It’s Clark Kent and Lois Lane, dude, it’s worth the gag factor of metropolis.”
Danny’s pencil snapped in uneven halves in his grip, confusing mix of emotions swirling in his chest.
Anger-relief-cautious hope
He’d given the Ghost Files to Batman as his last resort, believing in the hero and for his connection to Lady Gotham to sway him to give it a read through. Jazz had been adamant that if Phantom and the Ghost King was on that list, then she (as the Regent) would be too, though the two of them had argued against labeling Phantom as the Star King for the time being. Danny had grudgingly agreed to keep Phantom labeled as a Spirit of Protection, even if he went behind his sister’s back and gave Batman a list of his powers.
(Danny still had nightmares of Dan.)
(He lost his parents, but he hadn’t lost his family.)
(He had to remember that.)
There were few things Jason would consider dear to him.
His books, kept neat and orderly in his apartment.
His vigilante alias, taken from his killer to be a force of change.
His grave, as a reminder that he came back.
He’d been surprised to see Joker removed from the rogue list, hopeful that it meant he was avenged the clown fucker was finally dead and gone. Dick had held him again when he finally broke down and mourned himself, relief in the fact his killer would never hurt another innocent.
Never hurt his family again.
Barbie had framed the autopsy report and given it to her dad, where it proudly rested on his desk as a reminder that the clown was knocked off by a blessed soul and his daughter would never be hurt by him again.
The alley where his head remained mounted was a protected site in Crime Alley, enforced by both Red Hood and it’s people. A trophy for all of them to appreciate, because while they hadn’t been the ones to end him… they had survived to bare witness to the days free of Joker.
Harley Quinn was free, the happiest woman in all of Gotham- no, the world! The demon who’d made her in his image so long ago was gone for good and nothing would bring him back. She was free of her ex, her origin story was finally finished.
Jason counted the fact he was inadvertently avenged as the dearest part of what he was as equal parts man and shambling corpse. He was free of that burden.
And he had the bone-deep instinct that he knew exactly who to show his appreciation to.
Part 10
#dc x dp crossover#dp x dc#dp x dc au#dpxdc#jazz fenton#regent!jazz#jason todd#anger management ship#hardcover ship#Jason is about to enter simp mode for Jazz
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Hello! I saw you wrote my request. 🥰 Thanks so much. Could I request another one? This one is a bit angsty: 29 & 30 with Wrecker x Fem reader. I’m wondering if this could be a challenge bc I just don’t see Wrecker getting into an argument with his s/o. Maybe his brothers, but not his girl.
Thanks!
Aw man, you're killing me with the Wrecker angst here, my friend 😜 But alas, here it is!!
"Not Ready"
29. "Shut up!"/"Make me!"
30. "Don't walk away from me!"
Pairing: Wrecker x fem reader
***
"What were you thinking? I told you, you weren't ready!"
After just narrowly finishing a mission, you found yourself being reprimanded by Wrecker. Lately, he'd been teaching you how to disarm explosives and you'd come across one on the mission that you honestly thought you could disable on your own, even though Wrecker had warned you against it saying you weren't quite ready yet. You thought you'd had it, but things had gone wrong and you'd made the countdown go faster. Wrecker had to quickly grab you and rush you to safety just before it exploded. Luckily, you and the rest of the squad had made it out okay with the intel you needed and you were on your way back to the Marauder...but Wrecker was definitely not happy with you at the moment and neither were you.
"And I told you, I had it handled!" you said frustratedly back to him, stopping to turn back and face him.
"Which is why the countdown started speeding up?" he asked back.
"Okay, that was one mistake," you spat back.
"One that almost cost you your life," he responded.
It was then Echo came between you two and said, "Look, that's enough. We still got out of there with what we needed."
"We wouldn't have had I not stepped in. Her not listening to me could've ruined the whole mission," Wrecker stated, growing increasingly mad.
"Ugh, shut up!" you shouted, getting angry.
Then he bellowed back at you, louder than you'd ever heard from him before, "Make me!"
The booming volume of his voice startled you and you instinctively took a step back, your eyes widening at how almost frightening he sounded. Wrecker had never yelled at you or even raised his voice at you like that. It scared you and that's what hurt even more. You weren't scared of Wrecker; you knew he would never hurt anyone. His heart was too good for that. This, however...it was different and you hated how it made you feel. Tears sprang to your eyes and, taken aback by the whole thing, you whipped around and sprinted away from the group in a different direction, hearing the others calling after you.
Wrecker realized too late what he had done just before you ran off. His face fell and his heart dropped at seeing how frightened you were. He hadn't meant to yell like that, but he had just gotten so frustrated...now he deeply regretted it.
"You shouldn't have yelled at her like that, Wrecker," Hunter lightly scolded him.
"I know," Wrecker replied sadly. "I don't know what came over me."
"You need to talk to her and apologize," Hunter told him.
Wrecker simply nodded and ran off in the direction you had gone.
You had stopped to quickly catch your breath and wipe the tears away from your eyes when you heard Wrecker's thunderous footsteps coming. You figured he had followed after you to just yell at you some more, so you went to move away.
"Wait, don't!" he cried out, making you halt. Then you heard his voice tremble slightly as he pleaded, "Please don't...don't walk away from me."
You turned over your shoulder and saw Wrecker standing just a few feet away, a look of regret on his face.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have yelled at you or said all those things. I care about you a lot and...I got worried when that bomb nearly killed you. That's why I want to make sure you're fully ready when it comes to explosives...and I'd hoped you would trust me when it came to them."
You hung your head in shame. He was right. He was the demolitions expert for a reason. "You're right. I should've trusted you," you admitted. "I just...really thought I was ready and wanted to impress you."
He walked over and put his hands on your shoulders. "You have impressed me with how quickly you're learning," he said to raise your spirits. "But if you jump the gun too quickly with explosives, things could end badly. That's why you have to be extra careful. You got it?"
"Yeah...I do," you replied. "I'm sorry and I'll be sure to listen to you better in the future."
"And I'll be sure to not get too worked up if things go wrong," he promised. "I'm just afraid of losing you."
You reached up and laid a hand on his cheek. "It'll take a lot more than a bomb for you to ever lose me. You can count on that."
With a comforted smile, he wrapped you up in his strong and warm embrace, just happy to have you there in the first place.
Photogirl894's Angst Prompts
Photogirl894's 1000 Followers Fics
#star wars the bad batch#the bad batch#bad batch wrecker#bad batch prompts#wrecker x reader#photogirl894 1000 followers
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hello!! this is my first time requesting something ever so if i did something wrong im so sorry 😭
but i’d really like to request something with xiao where reader really wants to go to the festival with him but obviously he can’t/doesn’t want to so he rejects them :’) and reader ends up not going and just watches the fireworks alone from afar untilllll xiao comes and sits next to them and it’s just the two of them enjoying each other’s company 🙊🙊 and maybe like an angst to fluff/comfort typa moment
idk idk AHH if u aren’t comfy writing that it’s all good! this scenario just been stuck in my head for a while.
The Lights Bring me to my Qixin [Xiao x Reader]
Synopsis: He was hard to love, you were easy to love
Genre: angst/comfort, gender neutral reader, You fell first but Xiao fell harder and I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL!!
(A/n): tldr; Xiao needs to love himself 😤 also I'm so sorry it took this long anon. And you didn't do anything wrong! Thank you for sucha cute prompt :)
===============================
Xiao materializes himself on a bridge, a gust of wind fading beneath his feet. He doesn't move for a certain time, standing still as if he had no presence and just stares quietly. Only the moon was present tonight. No stars. A lone glow emitted right above where he remained and briefly he imagined, there was something melancholic about it. How the scenery made the lights in Liyue Harbor more apparent.
You would have loved to see this.
The adeptus recoils immediately and shakes away from those impending thoughts. No, he musn't dwell too much. He already made his decision. When you asked him to spend the lantern rite together, a voice inside his head acted before he even realized.
"No."
That was what he told you. It came out far more blunt than intended, followed by the poor choice of teleporting away. The pain on your face was something Xiao didn't want to think about. Because to him, you were like the city he gazed upon. Best admired from a distance. What affected the adeptus at the cost of what he wanted didn't matter.
His heart tightens. It's better this way.
"Why hello there! Care to join me for a drink this fine evening?"
Xiao spun around and saw Venti crouched on the handle while holding out a ceramic cup. Was he there the whole time or had his senses been dulled? It was hard to tell coming from an Archon.
Normally, he would refuse just as he would with anybody. But a part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted something that would help him take off his mind from those bothering emotions.
The two anemo users share a glass of rice wine pudding under the sky. Venti downs his fourth drink and Xiao glances at the watery reflection held by the glossy rim.
"If I recall, festivals are meant to be celebrated with wine and laughter. Maybe more of the former but it can't be complete without the other!" The bard cheers, his voice echoing around them, "Is the taste not to your liking?"
Xiao frowns, "No."
"No? Hmmm," Venti hums and taps his chin, "That's a shame. You were the second person who told me that."
As if he waited for Xiao to ask him who exactly, Venti proceeded to answer anyways, "As a travelling bard, I like to spread tales of heroic stories far and wide. Just so happened I landed a spot at the Teahouse yesterday. This good fellow sat in a corner, not even reacting to a single word I spoke, hmph!"
The teahouse? Wasn't that the place you always told him about? Repeating exaggerated stories about the mighty Yakshas who fought beside Rex Lapis during the Archon war?
"Ridiculous. Adepti cannot transform to anything but what they're already given. Mortal imagination are incomprehensible these days."
"Though you gotta admit, Bosacious with a serpent guardian sounds pretty cool...hold on, are you...laughing?"
"...Ridiculous."
"Did they say anything in particular?"
"Let me think, aha!" The bard snaps his fingers and looks upwards, "They said my interpretation of the story brought back good memories. That it reminded them of someone, which, they didn't tell me the name. But poor thing looked as if they were about to cry."
"...I see," he downs the drink in one gulp.
"Not even curious about who this mysterious person may be?" Venti insisted.
The adeptus huffs quietly and turns his head, "I have no recollection of such events. I must have mistakened them for someone else."
That's right. Whether you were happy or sad doesn't affect him in any way. Xiao knew where he stood. Karmic debt was a heavy burden to bear, it could be contagious and destructive if he wasn't too careful. Although you didn't like whenever he mentioned this, he truly believed that soon the curse will consume him completely. The yaksha's sole duty exists primarily for Liyue and to serve Rex Lapis whenever needed. Everything else becomes insignificant.
It's better this way. Xiao tells himself again. Mortal desires have no substance to him and neither does his own. I really don't care.
Settling down the glass, the adeptus walks toward the opposite direction, his back facing Venti away from the Harbor they watched.
"Leaving just when the celebration started? Someone's in a hurry," Venti chirped.
Xiao looks with downcasted eyes, stopping right at the edge. The trees rustle and a soft breeze picks up, brushing against his skin. It was colder now.
"Sorry," he breathes out, "Tonight, I just want to rest."
•••
You headed home through your usual route, sword in hand, except now there were no monsters to be dealt with.
How strange. Surely the landlord didn't suddenly commission members from the adventurer's guild, at least not regularly. It had been reoccuring for the past couple of days. Hilichurl masks sprawl across the field and whoever left this mess surely wasn't the type to play gently. Judging by how it looks, they were probably an aggressive fighter. A very powerful and aggressive fighter.
"Totally not complaining, though..." you mumbled, still perplex. It would be nice to know who did all this.
...
Xiao pierces the eye of a ruin guard and grunts as he retrieved his spear forcefully.
Just how many lives does he need to keep taking until he can finally rest? The question occasionally pops into his mind. Though seeing that he was fighting another day is proof enough. These hands were meant for war and destruction. Whatever comes near him, whatever he touches, would wither like a Qixin affected by poison.
When Rex Lapis appointed him, the adeptus said to be treated at his disposal. Xiao was a tool for battle. An extension of his blade and a mind equivalent to the vigor of any weapon. If he was ordered to throw his life away by facing the gods of Celestia, then there would be no hesitation.
But really, Xiao was more of a shield than a blade. He took every blow without complaining and did so for many years. Even if his achievements resulted in no glory, Xiao would remain in the shadows, exactly where he belongs. Just as you would one day come to hate him for hurting you that day, despise him for his silence, and see him as untrustworthy, Xiao would never leave his post. Because...that was his duty. The guardian yaksha.
Yes he'd rather had you hate him. Yes, he distanced himself without explanation and left things unsaid in more instances than one. Yes, it was better this way.
What am I even doing?
Regardless, in this year's lantern rite, he wanted you to enjoy the festival as you did the last. It was the least he could do. Xiao thought by eliminating the monsters that crowded your path would somehow alleviate the trouble he had caused. So he tosses blow after blow, harder than the last, trying to eradicate that pain and these unecessary emotions.
And right before the final strike, he stops. Within the adeptus a Qixin flower sprouted alone amongst the depths of his withered heart. Something that had already been planted during last year's lantern rite. Xiao made his decision. But he hesitated, unable to gather the strength and remove the thorn that bothered him incessantly.
"Adeptus Xiao."
The yaksha's breath races. Your voice. Thankfully he didn't sense any danger and concluded you made your way home safely. Did you eat yet? What were you doing out this late? Xiao waits and listens, once more, watching from a distance.
"Nevermind. I just missed saying your name, that's all."
The hard line of his mouth opens halfway as he tried not to make a single sound. He camaflouges himself among the trees, your back in his view while you hugged your knees close. Xiao leans against the bark, a shadow casting over his features.
He really shouldn't be here. An adeptus has no right to traverse into the realm he does not belong in. Xiao knows better than anyone exactly how the events will turn out between god and humanity. Like dark and light, made to balance the other, but too close would result in one's destruction, and the thought of that terrifies him to the core.
"I wonder if I said something wrong back then," you softly said, "He always did how much of a nag I could be. What if he...was fed up with everything I did...?"
Xiao caught his breath on hold, almost saying something he shouldn't. That's not true! Those words are clawing on his throat. You have no idea how hard it was for him to reject you over and over again. He pushed you away because he was afraid he would hurt you in more ways than one. Do you realize these feelings have been torturing him? Seeing you hurt, on the verge of tears, why can't you just understand that all he wanted was for you to be happy?
"I'm sorry. I had no idea that my actions affected you so much."
Yes. Yes they have, and he was forever grateful for it.
"Are you...happier though? If you're out there."
Silence passes through between the mortal and yaksha, accompanied by the chilly touch of a sky's breathly sigh. Bright rays thinned across the plains built upon Wuwang hills as the sun sets and around your small form. A golden reflection mirrored in the adpetus' eyes.
He could never.
You hear a thump and the sound of leaves falling down as Xiao unmounted himself from the branches. Seeing him was like a dream, you hardly believed it was real. The man wore an unreadable expression, often carrying the hard edge in every part of his features. However perhaps it was the sunset which hindered your perception. There was something different this time, something you haven't seen before and you were oblivious to.
"You called?"
Even until now the shock hasn't left you completely and you struggled on what to do next, "I did, but," still seated where you were previously, you dared not to blink, "Why are you here?"
Xiao casted his gaze to the side as if unable to look at you any longer, "I should be asking you that question. Didn't you want to see the lantern rite?"
What a silly statement. Of course you wanted to watch the lanterns, and most of all, with him by your side.
You stood up and dusted the grass of your sides, "It's not the same without you, Xiao."
"They're just lights," he dismisses.
"Yeah, now that you mention it, there really are just a bunch of floating lanterns," you shrugged your shoulders, "But not for me. When my siblings passed away, I thought nothing would ever be the same again. We used to make lanterns every year. I didn't have the courage to do them on my own because I just thought there was no point."
For the first time in a while, Xiao stays instead of leaving, "Is that so?"
The adeptus has observed the changes Liyue had gone through. If there is one thing in this world which can carve the core of every human, it was loss. He has known many who were victims to it or were the cause of each grief. An emotion that can warp a man, to something more darker, more distant.
"I was right. Things won't be the same," you parroted, yet grinning from ear to ear, "When we watched the festival with you last year, I realized just because you've lost something good doesn't necissarily mean you won't find it again."
"Don't ever change," his gaze on you was softer now.
"I didn't but you did," stomping up to him, you puffed out your cheeks with an angry look, "What has gotten into you? If I did something to upsetting, don't just get up and leave me hanging! Here I thought I made you so angry which caused you to he in a bad mood around everyone else."
"I-- I apologize..." Xiao nears himself to you, little by little, he examines your countenance, "It wasn't my intention."
"I was worried, you know?"
Although you were showing signs of relief, you continued to bring forth your hands and wipe away the tears building up at the corner of your eyes. What an emotional creature. His Qixin. While you slowly recovered, Xiao waits patiently, with every passing moment filling his withered heart. And then things became clear to him.
It was impossible for the adeptus to severe his bond with this human.
"You can be such a fool sometimes," you meekly stated, sniffling from the cold, "The worry you cause others. Always putting up a mask when you obviously don't want to."
"I know."
"And going off on your own without considering how they feel."
"I know."
He wasn't going to argue against your words and admittedly, well deserved. You let out a breath and the two of you stayed there in comfortable nothingness. No exchanges but the gap mended itself somehow. Xiao hadn't moved all that much even when you were in arm's reach. This man was always so careful and you knew he wouldn't hurt anyone out of his own selflessness.
You took a hold of both his hands and brought them to your face.
"What are you doing?" Xiao retorts, desperately, "You can't touch me."
The nudge indicates that he wanted to pull away, but when you squeezed them a little tighter, his tugs have grown weaker.
"You're saying they do nothing but kill and destroy," whispering, you closed your eyes and reveled in his warmth, "They're rough from years of use but so soft. I can't help think about those horrible things you said about yourself, weren't true at all."
Xiao feels as if he was being washed away in a current he couldn't control. It brings him from his own sense, watching you fondly speak of him with words he didn't think was very fitting. Not a single drop of urge from the adeptus wanted to remove your touch. Like water to the Qixin growing in his heart, a healing balm to his tattered soul, he revels in it.
"Stay with me," you whispered.
How could he refuse?
In the sky, a thousand lanterns lit up among the stars. Xiao wonders to himself, if it would be selfish for an adeptus to dwell in human feelings. The battles he fought over a milennia was enough to make him solidify his identity as a warrior. Yet the new emotions he have come across, Xiao doesn't know when he will ever have the courage to give it a name.
Time. He has plenty.
Whatever the future may bring, Xiao will accept it as long as he can see you flourish into the beautiful Qixin he'd come to cherish.
#genshin impact xiao#genshin impact#xiao x reader#xiao headcanons#xiao#genshin x reader#genshin#genshin headcanons#genshin impact x reader#genshin scenarios#genshin impact scenarios#genshin impact headcanons
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you're my best friend | kylian mbappé
bestfriend to lovers, inspired by the song you are in love by taylor swift.
one look, dark room meant just for you.
when you met kylian it honestly wasn't love at first sight. admiration at first sight. it seemed that all eyes were focused on him. lucky would be the one who left this party with him.
time moved too fast, you play it back. buttons on a coat, light-hearted joke. no proof, not much... but you saw enough.
small talk, he drives. coffee at midnight. the light reflects, the chain on your neck...
you don't notice the moment a hello turns into a cute joke with his french accent or how different the shape of his mouth is when he speaks spanish. the way the loud laugh echoed when he said he'd be able to drive you home and you said "driving? i doubt it..." when you shared the first coffee at midnight. latte.
he says, "look up" and your shoulders brush. no proof, one touch but you felt enough.
when you sat side by side on the stairs and he showed you the sky. asked if you thought you'd end up leaving the party for coffee at midnight. the goofy smile when you say partying isn't your strong point, the shoulders touch.
the months passed. there was no way not to look at him and see comfort. kylian was no longer the guy who took you out for coffee at your first fundraiser, he was the guy you called when things didn't go well at work. the guy you sent huge paragraphs to about how your favorite singer released a new album. the guy who listened to hours and hours of theory about taylor swift songs.
you can hear it in the silence.
you can feel it on the way home.
you can see it with the lights out, lights out.
morning, his place. burnt toast, sunday.
you keep his shirt...he keeps his word.
mornings at his house became routine. go there after work and find him on the couch playing fifa. going to the bedroom and picking up any shirt that was on the bed with his scent on it and sitting in the living room to play with him was also routine. waking up in the morning with the smell of burnt toast, watching him try at all costs to do something in the kitchen other than the food already prepared by the nutritionist.
one day he was napping on the couch, a routine moment. he wakes...strange look on his face, pauses, then says:
you're my best friend
and you knew what it was he is in love. and so are you a thousand times more. in the silence of the living room, in the warmth of the sofa. in one of his psg sweatshirts. with the smell of home.
and for once, you let go of your fears and your ghosts... one step, not much but it said enough.
the first kiss didn't happen on the couch, it happened in the middle of the street. close to the 24-hour coffee shop that was routine when the two couldn't sleep.
you kiss on sidewalks. you fight and you talk.
it happened in the middle of one of the stupid, pointless fights. talking about him and his interest in any blonde that is minimally functional.
"you speak without understanding" he says
"kyky, even a blind man knows your type! skinny blonde french girls! i don't understand why you keep denying it all the time, denying is worse!"
"do you just like to pretend you can't see?" he says, taking another sip of the latte, which in the cold of Paris, felt warm in his hands.
"here it comes..." you say holding your own cup
"my type is very specific. likes to play fifa, loves bronwie, horror movies every tuesday. is in love with lilac, but always tells me that i look great in blue. my type actually has brown hair. cuts bangs whenever she's having an existential crisis, she looks great in them. my type, have the most beautiful eyes i've ever seen. you know it's you."
and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars.
#kylian mbappe#mbappe x reader#kylian#psg#mbappe psg#kylian imagines#kylian x reader#mbappe#mbappé#imagines#football#soccer
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i think i would go bonkers for joel and ❛ it hurts that you still can’t trust me after all this time. ❜
VIEW FROM THE BRIDGE
a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for so long, but an idea struck me so i wrote it. it's messy and all over the place and probably way too short, but i'm actually okay with it. i hope you enjoy it darling! i based it on the song by etta marcus, because that whole album has my heart.
summary: the past was off limits, but at what cost?
word count: 1.1k+
pairing: joel miller x reader
warnings: not explicit, angst, grief, joel once again being emotionally unavailable, fluff, some heartfelt romance.
The city looked different from up here. Then again, the once beautiful Boston city had turned into a small few blocks radius with people who were terrified of even breathing. Everyone had lost their hope in the QZ. Their sunken eyes and gaunt frames told you just how much people were suffering, how much they would give to have just a small piece of their past back. You used to be one of them. Once.
“Hell of a view,” you said, sipping from the canteen of water you had attached to your pack.
The echo of his footsteps came up behind you, the sound familiar and comforting after spending so long with him. “I’ve seen better.” You could practically hear the smile in his voice.
You snorted, turned to see him leaning against the edge of the bridge railing, the sun glowing behind him. “Oh yeah? Where?”
“Texas had some pretty views too.”
“Ah…of course,” you replied, biting back the smile that threatened to bloom on your lips. “Do you miss it there?”
The question was a dangerous one to ask given the circumstances. You weren’t his partner, or even his lover. You were the person who tagged along behind him. Someone he would probably feel nothing for if you were to ever die or leave his side. Which left the question to hang in the air. Unanswered.
He cleared his throat, turning back to stare at the view with a different look on his face. One that told you enough. You weren’t supposed to ask those kinds of questions. The agreement you shared was simple enough; both of you were meant to work together with an ease that only came from people who were more. The both of you were supposed to keep the other alive. That was it. You didn’t divulge secrets, you didn’t bring up the past.
What was the point? When you were both going to die eventually anyways.
You could still feel the lingering loneliness in your chest every time you looked at him. The ache that slowly ate away at your insides. Telling you that you would never be able to have more than just this—more than two people who were on the verge of breaking apart entirely. Unable to heal from the damage done to both your souls.
“We need to go,” he said, staring in the distance at the QZ. Neither of you were supposed to be here in the first place, but listening to the rules was never either of your fortes.
“Why do you do that?” you sighed, stepping away from him, adamant on catching the last few rays of the afternoon sun.
“I didn’t do—”
“You know it hurts right,” you finally admitted, unable to look at him. The sun glowed against his face, turning you breathless at the sight, and you wouldn’t be able to handle that. “It hurts that you still can’t trust me after all this time.”
His breath caught in his chest. The echo of pain in your voice breaking off a piece of his heart as he watched you struggle to fight back the flood of emotions. For months he had avoided letting you in like it was his own kind of infection. It was better to stay alone. To keep everyone at arm's length if only to save his own sanity. He knew it hurt you. Saw the crushed expression you continued to wear whenever he pulled away, but Joel was unable to do anything about it.
How could he let you in when he knew what the cost was in the end?
“I trust you.”
You scoffed, finally turning your gaze on him. The shine of unshed tears punched him in the chest. “No you don’t Joel. You never did.”
He sighed, stepping closer and half expecting you to step back, but that’s never who you were. “You know why I can’t.”
“No actually I don’t,” you muttered. “Because you never told me.”
“Honey—”
“And that’s fine. I don’t need to know your whole history, or why you’re so fucking broken. But did you ever stop to think that I’m just as broken as you Joel?” The tears that fell were hot, filled with a salty rage that he could practically taste on his tongue.
He knew bits and pieces of your history. He knew that the ring you wore on a chain around your neck used to sit on your left hand. A promise you made to another man, long before the outbreak. You had a life with that person. A home that belonged to you. Yet that was all ripped away from you on the same night it was ripped from him.
The reason he knew all of that was because you told him. You let him in to see the most vulnerable parts of you. So why couldn’t he do the same?
Breaking away from his gaze, you wiped at the tears. “Forget I said anything. It’s getting late. We need to head back before they notice we’re gone.”
Joel felt his heart drop at the prospect that this was it. This was the moment you would walk away for good. So, he grabbed onto your arm and dragged you close. He kissed you, swallowed your sharp gasp, and attempted to show you exactly how much he needed you in his life. You were his. The partner he turned to when he needed comfort, when he needed to be reminded of the person he was before all of this.
“Joel—” you gasped, your hands gripping onto his jacket.
“I will tell you,” he breathed, his forehead pressing against yours. “It’s just gonna take me some time honey. I’ve never…”
You nodded, cupping his cheeks to bring him closer. “I know.”
He shut his eyes against the sight of your smile, feeling as if he didn’t deserve the sweetness of it. Not yet at least. Tonight he would go home, explain to you what he could without breaking his own soul again, and do his best to keep you. Joel wouldn’t lose another person. He couldn’t. For now though…he admired the view of your eyes once again holding a hope he wished he could have himself.
“Hell of a view,” he murmured, his thumb running along your jaw. His breath caught at the sight of your eyes fluttering closed, your sigh of contentment rocketing to his heart.
You smiled, pulling him closer by the front of his jacket—your lips brushing against his. “Eh,” you shrugged. “I’ve seen better.”
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#joel miller#the last of us fic#the last of us#my writing
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Heart of the Great Wolf
37 - The Crows and The Sight
Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)
Length: 21.1k
Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, past character deaths, references to torture/rape/mutilation, trauma flashbacks, smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, soft dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, bdsm/bondage
Notes: Jon's brain broke a little during this one, didn't it? Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here
“I've never seen you down here so much before, I don't think.”
Her voice echoed as she walked towards Jon. The cool air of night was a little less harsh down in the crypts, closer to the ground with torches lighting the whole path. Jon barley glanced to his sister before turning away to where he had kept finding himself. “Never had much of a reason too until I came back.”
But that reason then, was the one buried a few feet from where Jon stood. As Arya came up to his side, she felt strange looking at it as it felt to hear the truth. Neither said a word for a moment, letting the quiet sit between them as Arya did what Jon kept doing. Looking for him in the face of her statue, and finding not anything near what they both once wished they would learn.
“Still strange to think about. It was her all this time.” Jon nodded, his jaw clenched more as he felt that similar strain in his chest. His heart hurt thinking about it. About how he was even here. He was her son, but if he could take back what it cost to bring him into this world, he would. No one deserved that, let alone his own mother. Arya looked up to him from where she stood, seeing the conflict in how tense he had been. “When I got angry, I didn't mean any of it about her.”
As his voice low and rough, he barley managed to mutter out, “I know.” Arya was finally starting to understand a bit of how Jon must have felt talking to their father about it. Now that he knew the truth, he barley wanted to say anything. He barley wanted to talk about her. But Jon found himself unable to change that.
He didn't want to talk about the worst parts of his life as it was, let alone this.
But what he did talk about, was the one they both knew. “It's not easy to accept. That everything I thought I didn't understand about him, was all beacuse of me. Spent my whole life wishing he'd pay attention to me the way he did Robb.” They both stood quiet for a moment, his voice low enough were it not silent in the crypts none may have heard him. “For a while, I thought he left me to the Wall beacuse he didn't care. Got there and it was worse then anyone had told me, and I thought that meant he thought that's the future I deserved.”
Arya tried to interrupt him, something just as quiet but more desperate in her voice as she look up at him. “He always loved you, he loved all of us.” Jaw even more clenched, he nodded and willed the pressure behind his eyes not to sting.
He still was not strong enough to want to cry in front of his mother, let alone his baby sister. “Lord Howland said what they did to the Targaryean children, they would've done to me if they found out.” Neither of them quite noticed just how separated he phrased that. “The Wall was the only place far enough away that King Robert might not have been able to get to me. That's why he let me go. I asked Uncle Benjen to convince father to let me go, but he only agreed beacuse he wanted me as far away from the crown as possible.”
Her voice still was quiet, more easily full of a heavy emotion then Jon let his. “That's why he wouldn't name you a Stark. He didn't want any more attention on you then there had to be.”
It explained a lot the more he thought about it. Why he refused to talk about his mother, tell him her name or what she looked like. Why he kept Lady Catelyn just as in the dark about it, and put up with the problems between them. But Jon didn't want to think about her either, beacuse then he and Arya would have to face what she had become, what she tried to do. And neither of them were ready for that either.
Jon hadn't once taken his eyes off of Lyannas statue, he was still as much a Stark he always thought he had been, but now it hurt far more then the actual lie ever did. “The last thing my mother did was beg father to protect me. Begged him to promise to keep me safe.” That sting begun and his face twisted almost in frustration over it. “I only ever had a week with her, and the one thing my mother did before she died was beg father to protect me.”
“He did the best he could.”
Jon nodded, his voice just as strained. “He did. I just hope he knows that, knows that I still love him.”
If it were any of his siblings other then Arya, he wouldn't have felt comfortable enough letting something so raw slip out. But she wouldn't judge him for it as he wouldn't had it been her. “Right before Joffery ordered Illyn Payne to take his head, Cersei tried to convince him to send him to the Nights Watch.”
That pain in his heart, just radiated a little stronger in him as she continued. “No one thought he'd confess to treason beacuse he didn't do anything wrong, but he did. To protect Sansa, to protect me.” There was a pause a she considered how to phrase it but came out on the other side with the most simple of it. “And beacuse if he was at the wall, father knew he could still protect you.”
Jon's chest genuinely hurt, the pain growing and growing. He had said that day to Maester Aemon, that if choosing between love and duty, his father would choose duty no matter what. But he didn't. His father chose love in the end, in more then one way. To protect his daughters, and maybe even, to protect him. Jon felt that strange twist of warmth yet agony, knowing he had more of a father in Ned Stark then he ever once previously thought.
But it wasn't quite his father his mind had begun thinking about as they stood there.
The past few days especially, there had been a few boy names running through Jons head. But it was the only easy thought in his head as he looked up at the statue where his mother was buried. That he hoped you would let him give you a daughter. And he hoped you both would be able to raise her the way his mother never had the chance to for himself. He had a few boy names for the father and brothers hes lost along the way. But Jon wanted a daughter too.
Even just one, so he could name her Lyanna.
The night felt as if it were going easy, but the longer it went on the more you thought to what was coming. You both had agreed to it, and discussed it at length. More length then you think you understood it had so much detail given to you, but you agreed to it. Night when little was around, and when the sky was bright and clear so little could cloud your mind if such things were possible.
You did not know Lord Howland well still, but he knew much of you. If just what was possibly happening to your mind, even if neither of you had the proper ways to explain it. All he knew was from what he saw of raising his son, and could only guide you from that as he knew it. No matter how much what you might see continued to frighten you.
It seemed from what you could gather, the people who may have answers more would be the free folk, living with wonders beyond the wall as if normal. But as it stood, the ones you knew, weren't currently here and so it left you and Lord Howland to bond. He knew as soon as you told him you dreamt of that day in Dorne, what that meant.
The Godswood felt even colder then normal, as if the nighttime around surrounded your bones even no matter what you could have done to change it. If any ears were listening, it would make little sense to who was there. “If this wasn't the it worked for your son, why do you think it would me?”
Lord Howland walked calm and quiet beside you, as Ghost followed close on the other. The moon high in the sky, no fire was even needed to see, the moonlight shining against the white snow all around as bright as a sun could. “He was only a boy with dreams, but that is how it seems you started, your grace. It begins with dreams, but in lesser time you have surpassed ever what Jojen was able too.”
It felt quiet, very quiet. As if the time had put everything to sleep but you three in the thick woods surrounded the area. “I thought you said he has the Sight.”
You wondered if this sort of confusion was how it felt when the Reed children showed up to help Bran, the confident calm in the man beside you speaking of things you barley comprehended, but had to trust despite how little your brain was wrapping around it. “The Sight, dreams, they are all things which guide others. They are gifted from one with greater abilities to help aid in whatever goals they need people like us to do. My son was gifted the Sight to aid Brandon Stark, perhaps it has been gifted to you for a greater purpose. If your dreams have become visions this strong, then something much stronger then your mind alone might be needed to understand it.”
As the Weirwood came into sight, you shook your head as the pain increased behind it. “And you think Weirwoods have something to do with that?”
His eyes stretched upwards to look upon how red it shined even now, much like the eyes of the direwolf watching in a protective silence. “The First Men believed that greenseers could see through the eyes of the Weirwoods. That the faces in the trees are involved. Somehow connections to them let those with such abilities see things beyond the world you and I can with our own two eyes.”
Coming up beside him, you found something intimidating for the first time about it. A fear of what your mind could become. But it was not stopping, and you had to do something. If you could understand even a sliver of it, maybe that would help. But you had no understanding of what to do, and Lord Howland could only give so much to that. “So, what do I do?”
Turning with nerves running ragged through your limbs wanting to shake, he merely stepped forward as his hand moved from where he had them clasped behind his back to gesture the carved face. “If answers lay here, your grace, only they know how to do it.”
Turning away, you could see Ghost circling around as if to find a point to keep eyes on you properly at any angle. The face sat as it always did, but the only time you came here wondering why you. Whatever this was, why you, why now, why so sudden and why had it taken over your life without any control?
If it was them, what did they want from you? You were nothing to the kinds of old powers Howland Reed spoke of. You weren't even a Northerner. But you stepped forward. Pulling a glove off, you let your fingertips hovered and traced over the white of the bark and felt nothing but as it always stood. Still no answers came, but you kept on there anyways, hoping whatever could see through the faces weren't laughing at you a foolish Southern girl pretending she mattered to their purpose.
Glancing back, your lips parted as if wanting to say something in doubt but you found nothing but a reassuring nod from the man to continue. He was patient if nothing else. Circling along it's surroundings, you felt nothing and nothing as your hand found itself flat upon the bark. Suddenly, you could hear the barking of Ghost without seeing him, until that barking turned to many and more and even though in the same castle walls, everything was different.
Everything was worse, and you had not the consciousness to know why in your present.
The air was grim, though it always was now. He made sure of it. In the thin dresses given to you, there was nothing but a shift under to hide the rest and only you were lucky if the sleeves were long enough you could hide your hands within them.
He did this often, found ways to make a spectacle of how little you could fight back in front of others, just letting it happen so he would not take it out of them and he knew it. So he instead, always made it a show for no pleasures but him and his hounds. Those same hounds you could hear barking up a storm not so far from where you stood.
Ramsay would starve them for days so they would run rabid and aggressive, these big, terrifying hounds that were trained only for him. You were lucky since reaching Winterfell, Roose Bolton would not allow you to leave the castle walls at all. So you were spared from the terror of him using them to hunt you through the woods, as he would force you and Theon to watch him do to others on the journey here.
He loved that. Bringing his vile mistress with him, and together they would drag you and Theon with them to watch them hunt down whomever they saw fit. Sometimes Ramsay would kill them, sometimes Myranda would, many times though, he'd let his hounds tear them to shreds. At least here, he would only throw you in with them if he saw fit.
You'd rather it be done sooner, then be chased and have it end after thinking only long enough you could escape. Once Ramsay and his hounds chased you, there was no way of escaping him. He'd find you, and if you were lucky, would kill you quick.
But today wasn't about hunting, it was about torment. His favourite past time with his two playthings and it was now your turn to bare the brunt of it. “You look cold, my bride.”
Everyone was looking, you knew it, you could feel their eyes and wished they all would turn away and let you be shamed in private. But you were not so lucky, you were the only entertainment Ramsay saw fit to provide.
“Of course, you're not wearing much. Not that you need too, an obedient little bride you are, giving your soon to be husband access whenever he pleases.” His voice slunk up behind you, into your ear and made you shiver with a desperation to escape it. But he would not let you. Circling around like prey to his hunt and dangling you over the burning fire. “Isn't she so well trained? Of course, what use is being available to me at all times if no one truly sees that?”
Hands slunk over you, running along the back of your neck before grabbing hold of it with a roughness that jostled you, your heart speeding up trying not to flinch but failing anyways. He knew you wouldn't speak, wouldn't say a word. Not like this. You made it worse when you talked and you'd rather save that suffering from pity.
“But we aren't married just yet. And a good little bride doesn't whore herself out to any man who comes by asking for it. A good bride waits for her husband to break her in, but that isn't you is it? If I am to be your husband, why don't I deserve a wife that hasn't been broken in already?”
You weren't his wife, you never would be. You were Robb's wife, you were his. He was your husband, not this. It wasn't allowed to be this, and the sting behind your eyes grew. You would cry the second you were given any privacy alone, but never here. Your tears were only for Robb's memory, not Ramsay's cruelty.
His voice became louder, “Maybe the good people would like proof it isn't my fault I have such a whore for a bride. Show them who she really is, so they understand how much work is cut out for me.” Deep in your ear you stiffened and he grinned. “Tell me, do you miss your precious wolves? Would you like to see them again?”
End it now, you begged. End it now, slit your throat and be done with it so you could see your wolf again. But he didn't, he grinned, and stood somewhat behind you, hands on your shoulders as he spoke louder to the eyes of people with no other choice but to watch. “Were I a generous man, I'd do so right here. Prove my own brides worth, let my hounds out and take you themselves. But it wasn't hounds you loved, was it? No, it was your precious wolves that took your innocence when it belongs to me.”
It belonged to Robb. It still belongs to Robb, it always will.
One hand moved down to his waist before trailing up your front between your breasts now with a blade tracing the path with him. The edge just barley able to be heard tearing slight twinges of fabric as he once more grinned. “If you're a lucky girl, I'll find you a pack of real wolves to replace all your dead ones. Strip you right down,” A tear at your front, the fabric between your beasts tearing to expose the thin shift underneath as he continued to pull it downward. “And throw you in with them. We could all finally see our Queen in the North back where she belongs.” One much more aggressive tear, and the dress split enough he could tear it off.
Only your shift remained and you felt your limbs freezing already, your body shaking but you said not a word. “Just something for the wolves to fuck until I kill all of them too. Would you like that, my bride?”
That time, saying nothing was the wrong choice. A smack was felt across the back of your head with the blunt handle of the knife, before he circled round you. Kneeling to meet your eyes, asking again. “I asked if you'd like that?” Once more, you said nothing and that time his own hand smacked you hard enough you fell.
Freezing hands falling to break your fall in the snow as you felt shivering appear all over. “Speak up now, let everyone hear what a little whore my bride always has been.”
Your mind and the memory connected in one instance as a pair of hands grabbed you by your upper arms in front of you. But Ramsay wasn't grabbing you like that, he was behind you now, knife to your shift hissing in your ear as he tempted slicing the rest of it all open the and there.
An entrancing rasp you never thought would grace your mind ever again floated through the air, and warmth that pulled you into a softness. Until you gasped as they said your name louder then Ramsay did.
Weakly did your hands raise up as your mind returned, hands now sat high on Jons chest, his own cupping your cheeks looking you over, murmuring your name softly before surging forward to press a kiss to your forehead. Pulling back he ran a hand over your hair cupping the back of your head. “Hey, you're alright. It's alright, darling, I've got you.”
If it was just slight fear, he might not have gone against what Howland Reed told him, which was to leave you be in the Sight. But you knew, that Jon could tell what specific terror you were seeing. But you wouldn't say it, not to Jon. Some things about Ramsay he didn't ever need to know.
Shaking your head, Jon helped you stand properly from where you seemed to have found yourself more knelt to the ground as you were there. Turning slightly to the side, his voice a tad louder. “Give me a moment with her.”
Lord Howland leaving with a small bow of, “Your Grace,” before leaving just the cold air between you, Jon and Ghost watching silently close by.
The hand still on your cheek ran back and forth, the warm leather soothing the cold against them as he let the hand at your hair rake through it gently again. His voice a low rasp only for you, “You saw Ramsay didn't you? Wherever you were in there.” Nodding, he sighed out, your hands trailing up so one ran along the skin to the back of his neck. “I don't want you out here doing this, if it's going to make you relive these things.”
Shaking your head, both of you noticed the lack of conviction in your own voice. “Jon, it's important I understand whatever this is.” Letting your other hand run down his chest until it slunk beneath his fur cloak to rest at his waist you pulled him just a tad closer as you felt another shiver. “Sometimes it may mean I see things I don't want too.”
“I don't want you going through all that again, what he did to you? You were finally starting to feel better, but now..” He didn't want your mind going back, neither did you, but you didn't like many places your mind and person were taken now.
Your heart felt heavy at the wide, bright look in his eye of something mixing with a heavy worry with a gentle affection. “Everything I've seen, it has to mean something. Maybe it's trying to show us an answer.” Asking to what, you hesitated before your shoulders dropped as did your confidence. “To a question we don't know yet, perhaps. I need to do this, I have to understand it. It's not going away so we have to deal with it.”
Forehead dropping to yours, he sighed deeply. “The second it starts to be too much, I need you to tell me. I'm not letting you push yourself like this more then you already are. You've done enough.” You'd argue if you either thought you could win, which you couldn't. Or if you disagreed.
It was Robb's memory haunting you in your mind there, but it was Jon who was the wolf in front of you now. He was the one who had done enough, but Jon would never stop doing things, fighting for others as long as someone had too. Maybe, he was right. Maybe your place wasn't a fight anymore, maybe it was something else and you were the one who needed to accept that.
Your purpose couldn't be something risking your life now, beacuse perhaps, your purpose was the man right in front of you. For whatever reason, you didn't know, but you didn't want that reason to trouble him anymore. That wasn't what he deserved.
Pulling him a tad closer, you leaned against the Weirwood as Jon wrapped an arm gently around your waist to pull you in. Your head finding his neck as he pressed a kiss to where his lips landed in your hair to muffle against it. “It's happening to you without your control, I don't want you willingly doing it everyday too. If you're out here, I don't want to find you like this every time.”
There was no true conviction in his order, but you nodded. Wrapping your arms around him more, easing yourself into his comforting warmth. “As my King, commands.”
You felt both a breathy chuckle against you and the smirk he gave doing it. Kissing your hair once more, he pulling you back to look you properly in the eyes, nothing but an affection left. “Since when do you listen to me just beacuse I order it?”
Only a shrug came in response, making him grin more. “Since now.”
Jon shook his head this time, “Good, beacuse my next order is for you to let me warm you up with a nice bath, and find you something to eat for once.” Your smile soft and easy as your tone was light as you asked him if it was in that order. But Jon only narrowed his eyes as he ran his nose over the length of yours. “Call it an excuse to hold you for a while.”
Pulling you very gently to your feet, he kept you tucked to his side without any care of how much the other seemed to cling. It always was like this for a while after your mind did this now. Relying on him, and Jon being glad you let yourself do so. Only with Jon, did you find yourself liking needing his comfort to lean against so much. “I'm your wife now, you can do that whenever you like.”
Perhaps something more playful would've been on his mind, but he still could see the terror on your face. Teasing could come later, for now, his only duty was to make sure you didn't fall asleep that night as haunted as you looked now.
He couldn't bring himself to do it, so easily let you explore such facets of ability when each time he watched it grow harder on you. It was brutal and tormenting, and he refused to sacrifice your well being just to understand what was happening. There were other ways, and he'd figure those out himself.
Constant influxes of reports from the castles guarding the wall, searching for answers on his own, working with what Sam kept finding and connecting things from there as well as building up the defences of the North and training his people. Jon felt swarmed with things to do, but he had to do them and he would happily add taking on what you felt like your responsibilities as long as you didn't end everyday looking as unsettled as you looked now.
But still he thought, why was his family like this? Associated so strongly with something not of this world, why did the blood of the Starks all feel as if something were unique about them when it was not as such for those like his father, like his Uncle Benjen. And why did it now inflict you? The world begged Jon to care about the wars in it's own soils, but his father had told him, he was of the North.
And it was the North that called to Jon more then the running of a Kingdom as normal. His focus has to be on the worst coming and the here and now, and it was a balancing act he struggled with when half of that were things he barley understood. You were good at the day to day things, so that became the focus Jon wanted for you.
Let him do the struggling work and you do the things which laid off on the torment in your eyes at the end of each night. Jon just wished that he could trust you would let it stay that way. But he knew you dreamt strange visions and nightmares too, and as he would lay awake at night, keeping you close in his arms watching you, there was not a thing he could do to stop what was happening in your mind as much as he wasn't able to his own strangeness.
The Winter storms were fast approaching, and they begged answers Jon had not yet discovered the questions too. He just wished the answers didn't seem to lie inside your mind, and yet Jon continued to not tell you of his own dreams. You slept beside him, but he still dreamt of you in visions as if you were thousands of miles away. Your mind was trying to give answers to one thing, Jons the answers to you.
The world was nothing but a mess and everyone in it, but all Jon could do was grab onto those he cared about and hope he was strong enough to keep them close when it all would blow over in the freezing cold.
With a tilt of his head, you could see the pouring amount of petty annoyance dripping from Gendry's expression.
Taking the moment to work over the metal in front of him, you had stopped to see him in the armoury, and Gendry happy to have a distraction. If not with attitude. “You weren't lying when you said everyone in this family is insufferable.”
Of all things, you knew choosing that moment to look away with a smirk only proved his point thus further. So far the only ones who knew who Gendry really was, remained the two of you, Ser Davos, Selyse, and Jon. Gendry wasn't particularly happy at first when you informed him you had told Jon the truth, he had been avoiding him ever since. Not a family in your blood good with facing your problems head on, but in turn you only looked flatly at him. “So which version of him should I have lied to? The part of him that is my husband, or the part of him that is my King?”
He had in turn glared at you with not genuine malice behind it, “You saying you always have told all these Kings you know the truth about everything?”
Many years had gone by since you had any companionship like Gendry. You were far less quick on the tongue with him now compared to your days spent with Renly. Similar they both were, you could see easily the Baratheon charm in his blood, his humour, the ease of how snarky he could be and the degree to which mocking and teasing came at others expense. But he was easier going then Renly, and coming from a life of low birth meant there was nothing about his intentions anywhere you completely mistrusted.
Staring notably as you thanked Olly for something, and who walked off without a word, your head fell to the side slightly, holding a sigh back. Blinking once before turning your attention to the metal work between you both, you felt Gendry's stare as the boy left. Asking what was wrong with him, you shook your head properly before barrelling passed it. It was Olly's pain to work through, and if he wanted to do so in silence towards you, then so be it. But you wouldn't do him a disservice by discussing it with others.
The conversation had mostly turned to him elaborating on the stories he told you that first night in Barrowton, leading to somewhat of a petty disagreement that now sat between you. Mostly, regarding the choice to bring Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrian, with you. He kept no anger from his eyes or voice out here.
“Everything they did to you-”
Turning with a sharp glare, you cut him off quick. “They did not do any of that. Stoneheart did. It was her orders, her choice. I won't blame them for someone else's actions.” You could see there was something else on his mind when you spoke before he could once more. “You're allowed to be angry with them but don't pretend you're doing it on my behalf.”
The silence between you both was stubborn, glares sent the others way before he broke first. “Fine. I'm mad beacuse they said I could stay and be one of them, and then they sold me to the red woman and now it feels like I'm surrounded by all this shit all over again.”
Your face fell almost impassive looking. “Do you think you're the only one surrounded by the things that haunt you?” Gendry's eyes narrowed at you, but your voice was as rough and held back as your expression. “You reached out to me Gendry. I don't want you feeling as if I am forcing you to stay here. If you can't handle them being here then you shouldn't make yourself uncomfortable by doing so. But you aren't the only one here who has to look at the things that caused your suffering every single day.”
“I'm not leaving.”
Quick on the draw, you raised an eyebrow with a tone as even as could be. “No of course not, then who would be there to give Arya those disgusting love sick gazes every day.” It was his turn to go wide eyed, an offensive stammering as if he had anything to negate the notion when you moved towards the main courtyard. “Do yourself a favour, don't get caught staring at her like that in front of the King. The warning he will let you off with won't be quite as cavalier as mine.”
Trying to follow you, a struggle to keep his tone even as noticed easily. “She's a friend, she means a lot to me that's all there is to it-”
Face twisting into an easy disbeleif you looked back at him, “Who are you trying to convince?”
You trusted them little, but you still sat against the wall outside the iron bars. Thoros had most of the answers you sought, or at least he had the interest to do the talking to you. Beric watched in a careful silence most of the time as you were down there. “She served the Lord of Light as I did, it was not my place to assume her intentions.”
Your eyes glared over to him, waiting until he met the gaze before dropping them back down to your lap. Focusing once more away from Beric's stare. “No, it was your intentions to sell him off like cattle with no idea if he would even live through it. Which, if you both were wondering, he almost didn't.”
Legs spread out flat in front of you with one ankle resting gently over the other, you let your head fall flat against the stone behind you, a raise in tone a little more on the edge of condescending. “Correct me if I'm wrong, but it's beginning to sound as if the charges are piling up against you two.”
Thoros let out a chuckle, coming up more as a hum in his chest as he looked away. “We have been in far worse places then here, your grace.”
Rather short, it sounded from your mouth more angry and dismissive then you had intended. “So have I.” Turning back to look at them both, your voice kept the same but something more sorrowful sat in your gaze then theirs, as you nodded to Beric. “You think those scars are anything? The only thing you lost each time was your life.”
Not much could be said, they heard as much as any else did that night. There was little which refuted that the two of them didn't have any legs to stand on. Beric's tone was quiet as he finally found his voice from where he sat. “And what has your King seen?” The only indication you heard, was your eyes slightly flickering up forwards but did not commit to finding his face in return. “The true fight we are here for. He understands death, he understands returning to life as we do, but does he truly understand what we are up against? How much more important it is then-”
Closer to something akin to a growl as you felt your nails tense in your own palms, digging deeper by the second. “He understands better then you two. Better then any of us.” Finally seeking their gaze, taken back themselves with the darker colours painting your eyes in a seethe. “Whatever your god has shown you is nothing compared to what we are really up against. But what do we have left if we sacrifice everything and everyone we have to stop it? What's left in the world if we treat the people we care about as that creature leading you? What are we fighting for if we let ourselves become as bitter and hollow as she?”
Beric's voice was a whisper, only heard in the echo of the dungeon. “Survival alone isn't enough?”
Your lips parted to answer, but not your voice which spoke out in the darkness. That one was holding far too deep and rough of a rasp to come from you. “No. It isn't.”
Nodding for the guards to wait outside, Jon moved in between them as the door closed behind him. Were you the one in the cell, you would've said he looked rather intimidating this way. Fur dark and broad over his shoulders and the only light in the fire making the blacks in his clothes, hair, eyes all shine in a shadowing way as he approached. Voice low as he stared down both of them you sat on the other side of. “If I let people like you do whatever you want in your gods name, what's going to even be left for us to care about if we win?”
Motioning with barley a twitch of his fingers at the sudden gesture of you moving to stand, Jon came before you, now in between you and the bars as he now blocked part of their view of you, your eyes only able to see the fur and cloak draped down his shoulders, and his hair up and back.
Beric this time was the talker, and Thoros found it in him to be quiet. It seemed both men had their targets of conversation in mind beforehand. “And I would say it's on the side of selfish to think we are the ones who matter. The world we live in matters, not the whims and wishes of the people in it.”
You'd be willing to wager Jon's eyes were growing in a painting from grey to more of a black as the tensity in his shoulders increased. “Have you ever known what it feels like to think you have no one in the world who cares about you?” Heart in your chest twisted as did his, like you both could feel the pain wrapping around the same vines tethering you both to one another as he looked down at them. “I have. I know what losing everything and everyone you care about feels like, it didn't make me feel as if I was doing the right thing. Just made me feel angry. And alone.”
Both men had lost much and Beric more in himself but still, you knew they didn't understand. Not the way you did. Your foot by his just barley shifted to lean against what you could reach of his ankle as if that sensation over all that blocking your skin to his, still was enough to send a shiver up Jons spine. Your voice behind him was equally as quiet, but more breathless in a knowing. “You don't give people a selfish reason to keep going, and they just won't. They'll give up and let winter take them instead of fighting for the nothing they have left.”
From where you were, you couldn't see Beric as Jon likely intended, but you could once more meet the eyes of Thoros. And that feeling chilled in your mouth swallowing down to your lungs as he watched you through Berics words. “We are the Lords servants. You, me, all four of us. We serve him and that is why we have all come together. What we want beyond that no longer matters.”
It was morose. A dreary thought full of no life or love being asked of you and yet that deep love is what drove every action Jon chose. It was what kept him going better then everyone else you'd ever know, Jon was made of something different then any man you had ever met and without that need to protect and love, there would only be the darkest parts of himself left. And he didn't deserve that.
“What would you have me do, walk you out to my people, the ones who lost their loved ones beacuse of your men and tell them their grief doesn't matter?” They wouldn't know Jon well enough to pick up on the edge, but something of a nerve was struck. Something you didn't quite know how deep it was rooted, and yet you felt it ping in your own chest as if your pain. “Or that it shouldn't matter to them if they'll ever be happy again? You two put me in a position where keeping you alive is the right thing to do, but not beacuse you deserve it.”
If Thoros would stop looking at you, maybe you would have found it in you to stand by Jons side to try and even that anger but you felt pinned to the wall with something unnerving. You were truly starting to hate these priests and priestesses of this bloody fire god. They all looked at you the same, as if they knew something you didn't when none of their knowledge ever meant anything to you.
Jon gestured back to you with that edge only sharpening like a blade. “You're alive beacuse of her, and only her. I'd have executed you for what you did, what you almost let..” He struggled to find it in him to call her who she was supposed to be as much as you did. “Almost let that woman do. You can speak to her when she comes to you, but I'm not letting you try and convince her everything she already died for doesn't matter.”
Beric had no emotion in his voice which was different then the last. “And what did you die for, your grace?” If he thought he had Jon on something, he was wrong.
Jon didn't hesitate, but you did feel the weight in his tone heavy as it always was whenever someone was brave enough to bring it up, which was uncommon. “I died for her. She was being kept prisoner here, and escaped. So I tried to go after her, to find her and protect her beacuse I love her.” Don't let them see the clawing at your chest you told yourself, don't clam up now at how freely he could say it any and everyone when in this very home years ago you two were too scared to share those words. “I didn't die for any fight, I died beacuse the men who betrayed me didn't want me to protect the woman I love.”
Finally, Thoros peeled his eyes up. A pale blue that begged a small ask which had not the intentions in his companion. “And where are the men who betrayed you, for betraying the cause you swore your life too?”
Jon, had the only answer that mattered. “Dead. And they didn't come back, one way or another. Not beacuse your god didn't need them, but beacuse no one cared about them enough to even try. If you died, my lord, can you say there is anyone out there who would bring you back?”
Thoros didn't argue that Beric would, nor did Beric speak up for him. And in honest, as Jon stood there that made him feel a bit unwell. There was not a thing any could do to stop him from bringing you back if Jon lost you again, and he knew without any doubt that you would be the same for him. If bringing Beric back to life tethered their fates together like Jons to you, it was tiny in comparison.
Jon had a purpose to protect the North and his people, but he had just enough room for that purpose to also be you. His cause was helping the North survive and fight before the army of the dead could destroy anything South beyond them. But Jon knew, the only reason he wanted to do any of that was beacuse he had people he cared about.
He had many he cared about, Ghost, Sam, Tormund, Edd, but now he had more family then he ever imagined once upon a time. He had you, the woman he loved more then anyone else, more then he could love any other person. But now? He also had Arya again. And Jon too, would not hesitate to kill anyone who tried hurting her, wouldn't hesitate on anything if someone tried to take his baby sister away again.
Jon fought for a purpose, but he lived for you all. Ghost and his girls, that's what Jon lived for. His direwolf, his wife, his sister, and his mother. Jon would never consider her life a casualty needed for something else.
He had been speaking more and more to Howland Reed. Of Rhaegar's actions in the rebellion, and from what he had figured out on his own. He knew some from his son Jojen, but they were always spoken in confusion, not understanding what he saw without his father painting the picture. And perhaps that's why this idea made him sick. That you needed to sacrifice everything for one purpose and damn the people in your life or what happens to them to get there.
The rebellion, the lives lost and ruined, Jons grandfather and uncle burned alive that started it all, none of it was really about Lyanna. It was about Jon, and he felt that burning hatred grow. All Rhaegar needed was to pretend he could fufill some delusion. Once he had raped Lyanna Stark enough to know she was pregnant, he left for war beacuse Jons existence was all that mattered.
Noble knights, skilled Kingsuard and valiant men like the Sword of the Morning did not fight his father and six other men to the death to hide a dying teenage girl from her brother. They had fought to keep the Last Dragon's third child, last living child, from being taken away from whatever destiny the crown prince had thought was his.
Jons father by birth created him from blood and violence beacuse he thought destiny was all that mattered, but the father Jon lost, the father Jon missed everyday? He had taken Jon in as his own son, beacuse he knew what mattered was loving him.
To Jon, as he stood there staring down Beric Dondarrian, he thought to himself, this was exactly the kind of dangerous mentality that Rhaegar had ruined the Seven Kingdoms with. And Jon refused to lead like that into the storms of winter. He wasn't special or a hero, he was just a dead man who had to fight beacuse the innocent deserved someone who stands up for their right to live.
It wasn't until he felt a slight pressure near the fur across his shoulder blades did he realize you had stood up. Breaking his dark glare at the man, he turned to you and the grey returned far softer then before in a split moment. His name soft on your lips like a sirens call that calmed him instead of crazed his mind, that was all it took to bring Jon back down.
Men like this, like Rhaegar fought for fate and destiny. Jon though, looked at you as you held that narrow eyed concern, that silence gazing at him begging him to let you take care of him instead and felt impatient inside now. Turning back to them, Jon let his arm drift across your waist to pull you into his side ever so carefully to not jostle you. His gaze back on the two men as his tone was short and rigid and what came out of it was so unexpected you almost let a laugh burst you. “By the way, I wouldn't let her come down here, but Arya wanted me to tell you both to burn in hell.”
Jon dragged you along with him to leave, and as soon as the door closed behind him did a smirk find its way onto his lips as a breathless laugh did yours. Your side leaning more comfortingly into his as Jon adjusted his grip to keep you against him while walking. “They are behind bars, I presume she would be safe enough.”
Muttering just as low in your ear, Jons eyes brightened watching your own laugh grow at his next words. “It's not her safety I'd be worried about.”
He was trying to keep you away from things, you were sure of it. Taking so much of it onto himself and hide the worst from you, but it left you feeling on the side of rather useless. Trying to do things to ease the amount of weight on his shoulders without going against his words or wishes. But Jon didn't make that a simple task, not with how well he paid attention to you.
Always meeting with someone or another, having to handle this and that and go over the running of a kingdom with trying to save it and everytime you offered your help, Jon would pull you to him with a hand gentle at the back of your head to press a kiss, murmuring he was handling it.
Jon's mind always running around something, even now curls loose, dressed down and settled he stood by the fire in his chambers, a hand braced on the stone above as you could see his mind unable to stop. Likely he barley even heard you, coming up quietly behind him until your palms ran flat up against his back until you were mostly pressed against him. Voice soothing as you leaned up closer to his ear, “Jon.”
Sighing out, Jon let his free hand reach behind him, grabbing at one of your arms to pull it around and wrapped by his front, your other hand willingly doing the same as he grabbed one of your hands, holding it there as best he could from that angle. Rasping low, “We haven't been together since our fight.”
It wasn't anger nor judgment, yet you suspected the trace of insecurity seeping through the doubt you could detect. Leaning your front more against him, you pressed a kiss where the back of his head you could reach first, mumbling against his curls. “I'm sorry.”
Jon shook his head, but there was something else attached to it that weighed on him. His brows furrowed and from what you could see, something more upset on his face then he wanted you to know about. “Don't be, it's not your fault. I just can't figure out if it's only about Ramsay..or if it..” Prompting him to continue, murmuring his last words with an ask to continue, Jon sighed deeply again. That time his voice was certainly insecure. “If it has to do with you learning the truth. About me.”
Were you strong enough, you'd have turned him in your arms to face you instantly. Rather you even tried slinking from his grasp as you gently murmured his name, “Jon,” But he kept you in place, and it pained you. He didn't want you to see how upset the thought made him. As if you cared about that sort of thing. “Why would that have anything to do with us?”
Forehead resting more against his shoulders, as if trying to nuzzle as close to him as possible. Were you not right there, you wouldn't have heard him so clearly. “Being in love with Eddard Stark's bastard is one thing, but it's a whole other to say you want to be with a son of Rhaegar Targaryean.” Oh you knew that stiffness in his body was a desperation to keep that resolve as together as he could.
How long has that been a fear? How long has he been worrying that was it?
Head dropping to what you could of his neck, you left a long but tender kiss to the skin until you felt him relax even the tiniest bit. “Jon, I've suspected this since our first night on Dragonstone. And not anytime after did that ever cross my mind as something against you.” You pressed another, and a third trying to reach his jaw, barley scratching your lips to his facial hair. “Who your blood is has nothing to do with wanting to be with you. I've wanted to be with you since I was a girl, and I'm not about to change that now. You are not someone's son to me, you're Jon Snow. You're my King, and the man I love. No one else is allowed to have a say in that. Not anymore.”
Head dropping a little, he held your hand tighter before taking the hand braced on the stone to grab your other free one and bring it up to his lips. A kiss long and almost needing left on the back of it before he held it more against his chest. It took him a good moment to find any words, and you let him take whatever length of time he needed. “Ever since I came back, I'm always worried I'll scare you. I've never wanted anything more then the way I want you. And it scares me to think I'm too much for you..or you'll realize where that comes from and want nothing to do with it.”
Your heart beat too painfully, you needed to tame this now before it broke you or him. But it was the small smile you saw forming on his face as you spoke that said choosing the lighter path was the right one. “I hate it to be the bearer of obvious news, Snow. But you've always been like this, bringing you back didn't change that. It just means sometimes we add more inappropriate things to what we do, now.” Voice whispering softer, you rested your head somewhat against the side of his. “And it isn't anything. It isn't a Rhaegar thing or even a Ned Stark thing. It's just you. This is how you and I are and no one else has anything to do with that.”
Finally, you felt Jon turn his head just enough to the side he pressed against you a little easier as he muttered roughly, “No, I know it's different this time. Something changed when you brought me back, every moment I'm not with you feels like hell.”
“I don't see anything wrong with that so far.” Jon called your name in a bit of a sternness, finally breaking the hold between you both as he turned to face you. Only, you reached up first. Cupping both of his cheeks, letting your thumbs run gently along his jaw as you felt his hands settle instantly on your waist to pull you closer. “We spent six years trying to not go too far. And now after everything that's happened, we're back here. Together. Maybe this is just our way of making up for lost time. Beacuse I have no complaints about the way you care about me. So if you are not going to let me talk down about myself to you, I will not let you do the same about yourself.”
Running his hands along your waist, you found yourself unable to look away from the bright shine in his grey eyes. A sight you'd never get enough of, as well as the entrancing husk always so deep and rough attached to his voice. “I'm not trying to pressure you. I miss you, that's all.”
Exhaling, you looked up at him quietly for a moment. In some moments Jon was just as insecure about things as you were and it made sense why he fought against that noise so loudly in your head. Jon shouldn't have worries like that, and you felt none of the panic that stopped you before this time.
Leaning up, Jon took over to close the gap between your lips himself as soon as he caught on. Your hands drifted behind him, running through his curls as he reached up to keep your lips in his kiss, hands holding your cheeks with much more urgency then you had his.
Soft and memorizing, but still needing and harsh. Deepening his kiss with every breathe from you he stole, and easily begun to pull small high pitched sounds from you. Gifting the noises into his kiss as it all made him rumble deep in his chest. Pressing himself much more firmly against you as his teeth just barley nibbled your bottom lip. You of course, granted him permission with a shameless ease.
Licking into your mouth, Jon brushed his tongue against yours. Coaxing you to follow ,to explore him as much as he adored doing to you. Your nails scratched along his scalp, and a deep growl came from his chest. His hand tilting your head up more to be at his mercy, keeping you at a perfect position to taste each time he let his tongue slip back to brush along yours.
His other hand moved to trail down your neck, thumb running along the middle of your throat and down, wasting no time nor having the patience to play nice. A rough hand sliding into the collar of your dress, finding your breast and groping with a rough greed. Your insides twisted almost right away and you gasped as his fingers roughly twisted the small bud peaking for his touch.
Almost as if Jon was kissing you in the same rhythm his hand and fingertips teased you, his other joined finally, gently pulling your dress's collar down indecently until he pulled away from your lips with a bite. Frustrated at the fabric Jons eyes flew down to gauge what he had to work with, and instead choosing to yank it down with a tear in the fabric, exposing your breasts to him and the cold air of his room.
Eyes black as the night sky outside, Jon's face was harsh and close to stern should you not know better as he just stared with no guilt nor shame. As if you were on display for him, Jon suddenly grabbing your hip and guiding you further into the room, the back of your knees hitting the bed. Not letting you fall back onto it, he gathered the material of both sides of the skirt, finding nothing underneath of a shift he exhaled, almost pausing before taking it all off.
He let it drop wherever it landed as he guided you to sit, but you had nothing but eyes for his black, harsh ones all over you. Kneeling down however, his touch was gentle when his gaze was pure greed, grabbing at the sides of the only fabric left covering you and pulling it down slowly. Giving you the chance to lift your hips to left him, his head dropping to carefully take it off from each leg.
But then he stayed knelt there. The fabric clutched tightly in his hand as Jon just stared at you, at what was between your legs, before trailing up to your scar and staying silent as he looked to it just as long. Your eyes so focused on his intense ones, had you entirely miss Jon not letting your underwear join what was to be a continued pile of clothes, rather he shoved it in a pocket of his own knowing your gaze was too distracted to see.
Finding your eyes once more, your own hands reached out in an instant, unlacing the middle of his shirt with more care then needed considering how bare Jon had you. Pushing it gently along his shoulders and tossing it more purposely somewhere safe in the distance, Jon was entirely silent as you did the same reaching for his pants. One hand of his cupped your cheek, leaning in enough to nudge your nose with his as his other helped make the process move quicker.
But you however, had other ideas sneaking up in your mind. Prompting Jon to stand up so you could pull them off, the second he stepped out of them Jon had the intention of kneeling between your legs once more to finally taste you as he was so desperate too, but you were quicker then his slower mind was feeling looking at you.
The warmth between your legs grew wet at the sight, as if it were possible to forget, your lungs hitched only for a moment as you looked at him. Cock was long, and despite being with him you swallowed almost nervously at how thick he was. You could feel the sting already and yet, you only craved that more and more. Hard as he could be, tinged slightly red as it begged for attention and you knew Jon would deny it in your favour. Too bad.
The moment your hands gently grasped his hips, one of his hands found your hair, raking through it as he looked down at you with eyes wide and bright. His akin to a frown while your expression being a genuine ask of permission. It wasn't his favourite, he preferred anything else he could do to you, but Jon was weak to the hopeful ask in your eyes. As if the politeness you waited for him to approve of with made his cock throb more then if you were greedy and debauched.
You wanted him to give you permission.
Running through your soft stands, Jons gaze softened, his voice barley audible as the heavy accent murmured through the weighted desire in his veins. “Go on,”
Nodding in his touch, Jon let out a shaking breathe just as your eyes slipped closed. You wanted to focus, only on him only what felt good. Jon so rarely let himself be the one receiving, he wanted to give and give he wanted to do the work but he deserved to be worshipped, and you wanted to be the one giving the offering before the idol. But all you could offer, was your mouth.
Only grasping his thick cock enough to guide you, your hand couldn't even wrap around him properly, a gentle lick along his tip and you instantly felt his hand tighten in your hair along with a hiss from above in your ears. A hum left your throat without notice, the thick taste of what seed already leaked from him as you tasted it like it was there just for you. Jon gave another shaking breathe, trying to control himself as you finally pressed a kiss like any other. One to his tip, and many more so gentle down his entire length. Never gripping him tight in your hand or stroking him, just a gentle hold so you could kiss and leave tiny licks to properly soak him better.
You trailed down one way, pressed a kiss at a tough angle along his lower hips, face brushing against the coarse, rough black hair at the base of his cock before moving kissing and licking down the other side. A light grip the whole way until you unwrapped your fingers, trailing them tenderly along his hips back to hold yourself steady against him.
Jon's hand in your hair adjusted, a sturdier grip as he, himself, contained the desire to ask you to look up at him. But he let you work, and as soon as you licked the tip of his cock until you gently took just that in your mouth, Jon realized how much you with your eyes closed, just enjoyed it as you tried to sigh around him.
You felt the stretch, but continued. Letting the saliva accumulate to properly soak him each inch you let him slide deeper. Only part way before you pulled back and sunk your mouth back on him. Back and forth did you suck him only half, Jon tensed under your hands but said nothing. He rarely did here, words didn't come easy to him normally let alone with this. You could hear his breathing pick up as you soaked his cock more and more, easing yourself into taking more of him at once.
You knew you could but gods he was long and merciless how thick he stretched anywhere inside of you like this. Fingertips flexing against his hips, Jon muttered inaudibly under his breathe as you got closer to taking his whole length. Not once did you pull off, the heaviness on your tongue, the salty taste of his seed as thick as he was coating your taste buds as you had to relax yourself.
Just as you came close, Jon's other hand moved. Grasping at one of your hands on his hips, trying to hold whatever of your fingers he could tightly and in that same instance did you whine as you took the rest of him down throat. “Gods..” Nose brushing against the hair at his base, you felt that overwhelming sensation of panic but yet you still slid almost all the way to the tip and then slowly right down all the way deep once more.
A hum in your throat, each time you pulled closer to off, your core twisted between the fight of needing air and reprieve, and craving the feeling of taking him deep again. Jons hands gripped your fingers and hair tight each time you sunk deep on him, the later trying desperately not to pull you down himself at his own pace.
Sucking and licking any and every sort of way on his cock, you almost made more noise then him, even in just tiny sounds deep from within at wanting more, wanting to taste everything he could spill down your throat with, wanting to feel him let go. Jon's head fell back, jaw clenched tight as he tried to contain every growl and groan trapped in his mouth. Throbbing in you, he raked his hand through the strands once more before dropping back down to look at you. Your eyes still closed, but Jons were wide and blown out in need. Mouth parted as he watched your head bob up and down on his cock, only ever doing what he knew was for his entire pleasure, wanting him to get the most out of it.
If his younger self could see such an image, Jon knew he would've lost his mind.
Deep husk against his voice in the air was harmonizing with the crackling of the fire, and the soft, wet sounds of your mouth around him. Jon wished he could make this exciting, make it filthy and vulgar just to be different but what slipped out was far too entrenched in affection. “Darling, fuck- look at yourself. You shouldn't enjoy this as much as you do, I know it's a lot for you to take,” Jons hand once more ran smoothly down your hair at the back of your head, subtly shifting your pace a little more shallow and a little deeper.
It was a strain on you, taking him so deep so consistently but gods did you hate pulling off him. As if it got harder and harder to stay away, Jon himself kept pushing you forward to take more and more of him as the whine in your chest rose up, fingertips flexing tightly against hips as you eagerly took him deep. You wanted to taste him, wanted Jon to spill down your throat so badly, you wanted him to enjoy something only for him.
Closer and closer did you feel him throb in your mouth, did the rambling grow through the thickness of such a deep Northern accent. “You are so beautiful. Don't deserve such a sweet, beautiful girl taking me like this.” You tried to argue back, but barley got anything passed the minor sound of nonsense protest. The hand on your hair slid slightly to hold closer to the side of your face, thumb running along the skin against your cheeks.
Your eyes closed, but Jon could see the tears slipping down he was so deep in your mouth, for so long with nothing to be your salvation. You would find only that once his seed was in your stomach. He wished he didn't groan your name so deeply, hold you tighter and throb more intensely at the sight but he did. Overwhelming such a small mouth so easily with his size and he wanted to fill it more and more until you had to swallow his every drop just to breathe again.
That was when his hand tightened, his voice dropped roughly. “Let me control the pace, alright?” Not an order, but Jon didn't like that anyways. He liked giving such gentle commands and waiting for you to agree which you always did.
Trying to relax as much as possible, Jon decided to return to your earlier pattern. Pulling you almost all the way off before pushing you all the way down, only his pace was faster. His pace was less kind and your moans and whines only made his cock harder. You were now just along for the journey, and you wanted no other use for your mouth then right here.
Faster and faster did Jon move you along his cock, his ramblings sometimes made sense, sometimes didn't but they were always mumbled or slurring as if he had no control of what the words were. “Fuck, you feel so good, doing so well- Taking me like you were meant too, mouth, cunt, everything made for me..let me spill down your throat, and I'll make you feel good. I promise darling, you just- just have to swallow everything I give you,”
Calling your name at attention, you moaned against him. A vague sound of your name before Jon more gentle then he ever had, carefully pulled your head down to take his cock deep as you could. Your nose pressed tight against the black hair, and Jons hand caressed the back of your head as he held your hand without failure.
Muscles tensing under your fingertips greatly, so did the strain in his voice and pain in your jaw as his cock stretched your mouth. Snapping, Jon finally came. Thick spurts of his seed poured down your throat deeply, spilling more and more as you swallowed around him, only making it worse. It was a taste you teared up at wanting to have had again, and your hands tensed tightly as muffled gagging came as Jon's seed was so copious in how much he fed you.
Not looking away from you the entire time, Jon kept you close as his mouth agape groaned your name like a quiet plea and kept you gently pressed against him while his cock was filling your mouth with him and his seed both. He wasn't even finished yet when he started up, breathless as anything, “Let me taste you, darling. I want- I need to taste you, I've missed you so much. You going to let me between you, make you feel good?”
A nod as you still swallowed him, milking every drop you were allowed to have until Jon hissed, pulling you off himself. Your mouth dripped as you gasped with the remains of your saliva and his seed, but did Jon not care. Grabbing both your cheeks, he leaned down finally, capturing your lips. Hands running though your hair, you felt his cock still just as unbelievably hard as he pressed you back into the furs of his bed, your legs spreading to accommodate him in an instant.
Barley pulling from your lips, Jon brushed against them as he spoke, “You're perfect, everything about you.” You shook your head, but Jon tilted your head enough he could rest his forehead against yours, both your eyes squeezed shut tightly, you could feel him frowning. “I love you, alright? I'd do anything for you, now let me do this one thing.”
You bit your lip, but Jon soothed it with a soft kiss, one to your lips, then forehead then finally trailing downward along your neck. “Jon,” Ignoring you, the needy high pitch of your voice giving away the blatant want, you had no other words. Neck with gentle kisses and brushes of his tongue down to your collarbones, Jons hands reached up to grasp tightly once more at your breasts.
Groping tightly with this thumbs running over the buds before pulling at each, your back arching up with a gasp. Hands grasping at his curls, and your hips moved to meet with his pushing into yours, Jons length now soaked from your mouth and just as hard brushing against your inner thigh. One bite after another and suddenly, with the yank of his fingers did Jon bite and tug at the other with his teeth, the core inside of you burning hot and nowhere to let it out but writhe against his touch and tighten hands in his hair.
Bruising the skin as your muscles tightened trying to contain the gasps in you, but Jons mouth was unforgiving and rough. Marking you up and this time the more you so eagerly moved against him the rougher and rougher he got, the more growls in his chest came out as his hands left marks of his fingertips as well as indents of his teeth.
If Jon was anything it was currently greedy. Yanking his mouth from your breasts, you felt them sting in the air as Jon grabbed a hand in his curls. Placing it up and beside your head against the fur below, he bit at your lip all the same. “Stay just like this, I'm going to take care of you.” You almost whined his name not even knowing what you were trying to ask when he kissed you gentle, hand now cupping your cheek and pulling back. “No, relax and enjoy yourself. That's a command, darling.”
You'd laugh if he didn't have you so worked up, so heart poundingly overwhelmed at how good his bare frame felt against yours, how soft his lips were and how much he changed to rough the second he grasped and bit at your breasts before returning to soft and slow. Trailing his lips along the scar, Jon hovered over it for a moment longer then you knew by until he slunk down on the bed.
Prying your legs wide, Jon moved one to sit with your foot flat as far as he could push it, while wrapping an arm around your other thigh, holding it up and wide closer to his head. You felt his warm breathe hovering over your clit, as if contemplating himself which way he wanted you, but he chose the path he couldn't keep up.
Small, gentle brushes of his tongue along your clit, he would then trail it along your thighs, kissing the length and back to your clit with his tongue and then once more to the other thigh. A pattern until he pressed his tongue wider against you and dove right in.
Flat against your core, Jon licked down to to drink up everything already there as he groaned. Pressing his forehead against your mound for a moment, “You get this wet just having my cock in your mouth?”
Pushed up on your elbows you looked down to see his dark curls rise up just enough to catch his dark gaze as you bit your lip with a nod of yes. Jon practically letting his eyes roll into the back of his head, he yanked your hips more up to him, leaning his head down to properly taste you. His tongue sinking deep inside as he could reach, the cry leaving your mouth nowhere to be stopped.
Hands clutching at the furs your head flew back just as much, his tongue brushing against something sparkingly sensitive, and refusing to come back up for any air as he growled into your soaking cunt at the taste. Drinking from you as if the only thing you were made for, was to spread wide for him, his mouth, tongue, cock. All of you made for Jon alone.
His hold on your thighs tightened as you arched your back up into his touch, one hand flying back down to pull at his curls and it only made him more aggressive in his greed. Which in turn gave you the same reaction and round you both went. Driving the other wild, but Jon was the one twisting that feeling inside you with licks now ensuring he let nothing go anywhere but his tongue.
Yanking your thigh up in his hold higher, Jon made a deep sound vibrating against you. The shiver running up your spine and leaving through your lips in a soft cry. Already you could feel sweat starting to drench your hair against the heat around you and building white hot from within. Drawing you closer and closer to that edge and just as your hand grasped tight, and your back arched with a plead of his name a mantra did the feeling get ripped from you.
Eyes flying shut tightly as you tried to contain your protest, as did the air in your lungs hold. Jons touch did not leave, pressing further more his lips along your thigh as he grew bolder with indenting his teeth to leave his mark for only him to see.
Returning to feast only once he could feel you relaxing in his touch, and no longer bothering to build up that time. Tongue flat against your core running up to work purposely over your clit, letting his facial hair rub raw against your sensitive skin and burn you outside as well as in. The twisting inside you screamed hot and fast, less begging able on your lips and just as Jon let his teeth barley scrape along the bundle of nerves, you almost flinched from him.
Jon knew you however, grabbing you by your hip with his other hand and holding you tightly against his mouth. A pattern switching in his licks just as you were able to catch your breathe and then all over once more until he felt you shake around his touch once more. And once more thus, it was taken from you.
Trying to call his name weakly, Jon shushed you quietly. Pressing a kiss to your clit and then your mound as he ran that hand along your hip to waist and back comfortingly. Murmuring low as his dark eyes peered up at you, your hands barley moving other then tight fists in the fur below and his curls as your eyes sealed shut trying to contain your breathing. Trying not to just beg.
Beacuse Jon didn't want you to beg, he wanted you to trust him to know when to take care of you.
You dared not look, but you felt his eyes watching you, his touch trying to bring you down as you felt his breathe warm against your wetness as he rasped, “Do you want to cum?” Your brows furrowed, not quite grasping the question as your heart raced in your chest. A kiss pressed once more to your thigh just above a more sensitive mark already bruising, “I asked you a question, do you want me to make you cum?”
Your mind was foggy in the feeling and the ones too torn away, you couldn't tell if it was trick. If there was a proper answer, or if he was testing you. “Whatever you want,” You felt Jon tilting his head slightly before he pressed his lips to your thigh once more. Pulling it up off his hold before he hauled himself over top of you. Bracing a hand beside your head, he nudged your nose with his to look up at him.
Eyes dark and you swallowed harshly despite how little you had a chance to see your own wetness still on his lips before he kissed you. Tongue only barley brushing against yours as he kept you deep in his touch. Barley pulling back as his kissed down your jaw to just below your ear. “Well I want what you want, so you need to tell me what that is.” His lips barley stopped moving along your skin, his other hand sliding down to grasp at your breast, still sensitive it had you gasp even louder ending on a cry.
You tried turning your head away from him, a flush finding its way up your chest passed his touch, not wanting him to make you say anything about it. You were never good at it on your own, speaking so blatantly free like that. Jon only murmured your name before another kiss that time to the side of your head despite his other hands stinging, addicting touch.
Only a nod, he pushed more up to hover over you, trying to take away your ability to look away from him, “Is that a yes?” Your brows furrowed, an embarrassed feeling flooding your veins but he took none of it in jest, wanting you to meet his eyes. “We can keep going, but I don't want to be inside you until you've cum for me.”
A small voice, you reached up. One hand running through the dark curls loose around him before scratching along his scalp. Eyes fluttering shut as was the exhale he gave a bit shaking. The hand beside you head curled into a fist as Jon tried not to just rut into you. “Please, Jon. I'll be good, I'll cum for you I promise.”
Eyes staring harsh down at you, his expression seemed to be unmoving as it was intense in how focused it was. “You promise?” As if confused almost if you didn't want him thinking you'd disobey. It shouldn't have made his blood boil in such a obsessing way, but it did. You wanting to behave for him.
You weren't trying to be seductive, but it worked out that way regardless just by way of how little Jon knew he could resist anything you wanted like this. “I do. I'll do anything, I just want you inside me, filling me, anything you want for it, I'll do it.”
He almost flipped you over onto your hands and knees on the spot.
Instead, Jon stared down at you hard, the muscles in his limbs screamed at him to take you like an animal, over and over at how easily you'd let him do anything. You couldn't realize however, just how filthy that anything was which Jon could come up with. He spent far too much time thinking about ways to take you, he'd do them all if you'd let him.
Not another word trusted in himself to leave his mouth, Jon surged down. Capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, biting down against your bottom lip he swore he almost drew blood before making the same greedy path right back down to your soaked core.
There was no grace or teasing this time. The moment Jon got between your legs, he hoisted your thighs up over his shoulders and dove in. Licking up everything you gave him while he was away before sucking at your clit enough you cried out, louder then you realized. A wolf devouring the prey laid about at his utter mercy, and Jon had little patience for that very concept. Not here, not when he would sooner kill someone then let anything take him away from having you here in his bed.
Reaching something inside of you, he kept you grounded by your hips,refusing you even let you move from exactly where he needed you to be. Jon left not a shred of tease as he soaked you with his mouth as much as you soaked him in return. Unable to stop the thought in his head, at just how unbelievably smooth sliding his cock inside of you was going to be tonight, he groaned into your cunt while his nails dug into your skin.
Your insides twisted and turned and washed over you like wave along the shores in an instant as Jon pulled you right into an orgasm. Attached to his mouth, you cried his name out once more like a mantra and yet Jon did not let you go. If you even hinted at moving away from the shock of how much more pleasure his mouth was hurdling you towards, he tugged you right back closer.
“Jon, please, I can't-”
Barley detaching himself from you, and even more humiliating in your mind, was how he couldn't even bring himself to look anywhere but your soaked core as he rasped out, “You can, and you will.” Not wasting his time and tasting you all over again, you felt that sharp pain growing as it sat atop the pleasure and only he could make you want more.
You felt a sting in your eyes as he pulled another and another from you, maybe three, it could have been four. Your mind was hardly in the present other then just him. Only as what might have been a fifth clawed it's way to flooding his mouth with your taste, did tears also fall from the corners of your eye, was your lungs in agony.
Soaking you more, sloppy kisses pressed to your clit and up the path between your breasts before he hovered over you. A hand pulling your lips up to his instantly, his tongue invading your mouth as it had your cunt and making you taste yourself exactly as he loved. His free hand yanking your thigh to rest up on his hip as he refused to let your lips go.
Barley feeling anything beyond how shocked you felt between your legs from the amount you came, you could not sense anything until you felt the thick tip of his cock press against your cunt. A hand grasped at his shoulder while the other held tight in his curls, Jon growled as he pushed inside you.
Just as he thought, you were soaked. So soaked he slid inside you as deep as you could accept him without any resistance. Tight and warm around his cock but you were so wet it hardly mattered how much his size could overwhelm you. Keeping you close, Jon only let his lips leave yours enough to look down at you as he slowly slid out of you.
Not quite leaving your warmth before he just as smooth and slow filled you right back, the gasp on your lips captured by a quick kiss before he kept his eyes on your face. Lips parted in an awe as your eyes were closed trying to keep calm, trying to not look so needy but that's what he wanted.
You didn't know how long he kept you like that, ever so slowly sliding his cock in and out of you and each time he pushed forward you felt yourself soaking him even more. The sound of it almost made you turn away from him, humiliated, but his grip on your hair turned you back to meet his eyes. His jaw was clenched tightly as he watched you, but each thrust almost made you close your eyes at how much it tore at your insides.
Burning hot you grasped tightly at him while your other let matched how he was holding up your thigh on the other side of his hip. Letting him almost push deeper at the angle, a grumbling of swears falling from his mouth as he dropped his head more into your chest. Slowly trying to thrust harder but not wanting to sacrifice the pace. But you knew he felt the second you clenched around him with a whine, did he kiss you once more. Speaking between each breathe he didn't let you take, “Come on, darling, come on,”
Tears falling you came hard around him as it paralyzed your nerves elsewhere, nothing more then what Jon could slide his cock inside of, you held onto him only willing to take. Give him what he wanted to take and you'd do that the rest of your life if he'd keep you right here. A biting kiss pushed into a deeper one as Jon groaned your name, shaking above as he hitched your leg higher to barley thrust shallow as deep as he could.
The warmth filling inside of you had you gasp, so much more warm then anyone else and you knew his seed spilled thick. Your other hand grasping his cheek as he thrusted to fuck more and more of him inside of you, not willing to let any of it go to waste anywhere but there. Shifting up onto his knees, he kept the same hold of your hip but now he leaned more over you.
His hand leaving your hair, making sure your eyes stayed on his dark, penetrating ones as he reached up to grasp the headboard behind you. Lips parting you kept your legs up by his waist as he nodded, knowing he was trying to tell you without the ability to speak, he needed leverage.
Jon, was not a man who did not fulfill such a promise. Struggling himself to keep his own eyes open, he pounded far harder into you. Trying to keep slower, trying to make sure he didn't overwhelm you in every way but you felt so good around him. “Fuck..” Like each thrust of his cock inside of you was rougher then the last, the resounding smacking of his skin against yours could deafen a man if it didn't sound so beautiful mixed with your cries of his name. Your hands grasping what you could of his waist, but Jon held the power. Jon was the one choosing the pace, how rough he was and you melted to his needs as if that was enough for your pleasure.
Considering how fast he got another orgasm out of you so soon, you wanted him rough as much as his clawing animal deep inside of him tried to beg for despite how locked away be kept it. When he opened his mouth, he rambled without thought, an entrancing husk you moaned out for. “Fuck, I want to keep you here. Right here, fill you again and again, make sure we don't leave until I've filled you with a child-” Jons head dropped as he lost some of the roughness and picked the pace up, not letting that loud echoing slap go away in any manner. “I should've kept you down in that cell with me until I put a baby in you, that night in Castle Black. Should've kept you from all of them until I filled you enough that it took.”
Leaning up, your hands pressed against his chest trying to get him to lean down to meet your lips, but Jon could only watch how rough he jostled you with each pound and growled.
Tightly grasping the back of your neck did he lean down to meet your lips, biting and leaving your bottom lip bleeding that time no question. But it didn't deter him, and he refused to let your lips get away as his other hand cupped your cheek. His cock was making you feel dizzy, how thick he kept filling you with no chance of escape.
Lightheaded as Jon fucked you, before he shoved you down by your sternum onto the furs once more, a few shallow thrusts as he watched you carefully. “Stay just like that,” You winced as he pulled out of you, tears falling once more as you bit your tongue not to beg so pathetically for him to come back.
Only moving off the bed long enough to grab something from his pockets, he climbed back up before shoving your legs wide. Snatching both of your hands and raising them up high near a post on the headboard. The sound of something tearing you couldn't see hit you as you watched Jons eyes go dark and possessive at his work. Using your own underwear he tied your wrists to the bed above your head as he leaned down to your lips. “You can escape those if you need to, darling. But I really want you to stay just like this, you want to be good for me, but you don't let me take care of you. So let me make you cum, and I'll fill you as many times as you want.”
Your head was not clear, but you didn't want it to be, all you saw and felt was Jon and so you nodded with your stuttering breathe trying to regain control. But Jon slipped back inside of you with no resistance once more. Capturing your lips, he fucked you slow once more.
Twisting and burning your crying core as Jons cock was slow, smooth and you felt every inch of his length run right along something sensitive inside you that had his name now turn to prayer on your lips.
Hands flexing trying to reach up to his hair only to be met with the restraint, melting more into his touch at how much you trusted it. He could take every bit of control away from you, and you'd still trust Jon blindly. You wanted him to do everything he dreamed of to you, and you'd never resist him.
It was hard to tell if you had already cum once by the time the next one hit you so suddenly, Jon left you utterly lost in his touch that you felt nothing in the world but him. His cock slow and thick inside of you, sliding in and out all the entire length and you could clench and shake around him each time you thought he'd leave your warmth again. But he kissed you gently, reaching a hand up to hold at your clasped hands, fingers intertwining best he could as he kept your thigh once more up by his hip.
Voice hoarse but dripping with a deep affection you whispered against his lips so simple, “I love you.”
Fucking deep inside you, he kept himself there for a moment. Dropping his face into your neck when he nodded, picking his cocks pace right back up as he fucked you. Rasping low in your ear, “I've always loved you, since I laid eyes on you I've loved you. You- fuck, you're everything to me.”
Moving you prompted him to look up at you, but it was your turn to lean forward to kiss him. Without much warning once more, Jon felt you clench tight around him, his cock pounding harder and faster to make up for it. Whispering into his lips, you kept your legs high on his hips wanting to keep him as deep as he was. “Cum inside me Jon, please.”
Nodding, it took little less then a few more slow thrusts of you shaking around his cock to spill inside of you once more. He'd keep you on his cock for a while, the other not ready to let the other go, not willing to stop feeling the others bare skin sweating against the other, as he fucked you. But he still struggled to stop.
Jon struggled to leave your cunt, his cock angry if he'd think about it. But your eyes were asking to pass out, having used your body so thoroughly he knew you were losing steam, yet the wolf inside of him wasn't satisfied. But your whisper, ruined him. “Take me as long as you need, whatever you need, I want you to have it no matter what, even if I'm asleep. Take what you want from me, Jon.”
His mind wasn't sound enough to ask questions, but his heart was dark enough that he kept his cock sliding smoothly in and out of you. Only when your eyes slipped closed proper did Jon slow his pace, untying you before turning you onto your side, hitching your leg up properly to keep himself deep, his mind was a cloud of you and only you. Jon wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he did so, with his cock thick and deep inside of you as you both slept in the others arms.
He knew you trusted him with everything, leaving behind that fear that he'd do anything Ramsay did, and you wouldn't scare him with that anxiety ever again. He took what he needed from your cunt beacuse you wanted him to have it, anytime or anyway he wanted. But you knew he'd refuse such a selfish pleasure otherwise.
But it was as you two slept so pleasurably connected together, did your mind fall somewhere else without notice.
You had never been aware of it like this before. Standing in a memory you were always in something of a haze, trapped in the mind of another. The first time, watching Hazzea in the fields you had not understood you were not there, it felt as real as the ship you were on. But this, you knew where you stood and that you had been in bed with Jon.
But now, awake and dressed you stood in the middle of a corridor in Winterfell, the air much warmer then it was now. You looked around at the windows of the main hall only to see not even snow sat on the ground. Steps forward was when your ears picked up too, the sounds of music. Chatter, life, carefree laughter and yelling on top of the music that made it sound much more populated then it did in your waking life.
It was far from winter whenever you stood. Finding your feet, maids and servants passed you by without a notice. No one looked, no guards acknowledged your presence. It was like you walked these halls a ghost, unseen and unheard. But you had not the wherewithal to figure out why you were returning to dreams for such unknowns.
It was not hard to figure out just when you were, and it turned out, the when hurt more then the why most of all. Life was in the main hall and you recognized the sights. Peering in through the door as if a child spying past her bedtime, you first saw the main table high at the back of the room. Cersei Lannister sat there as miserable as you recalled her being in the North, only now you had the vision to see her watching a naive Sansa from across the way.
Next to her, your heart twisted. No longer the brittle white hair, the clawing down of her cheeks and throat slit open with hate in her dreadful eyes. This was not a creature of vengeance, just a woman, a mother who you stood watching as if you forgot she could appear this human. Her hair long and a striking Tully red, wearing a shade of blue that always looked so beautiful on her. This was the Catelyn Stark which had died a mother to you. And the feast around spoke that in over a weeks time, she would be by law.
Some you spotted, some hurt less, some more. Theon stood younger and full of life. A cocksure attitude in his eyes as he smirked at whatever Southern girl had struck his fancy, back in the years when he found such prospects in said venture. Jory and Ser Rodrick looked alive as ever, in both their faces and in body. You had not seen Ser Rodrick's end by the very man across the room from him, but you had seen Jory's.
Jaime Lannister with a dagger shoved into his eye as you shoved one into the necks of one of his own men, a cruel end to a good man who had much love in his heart for the family he served. But the man who he fought to defend? You felt that dagger plunging into your heart.
Ned Stark stood tall as ever, and with the same sternness he always held no matter what. It was that which moved your feet, stepping into the hall. Carefully you walked to avoid touching or bumping into a soul, as if you even could, but you saw something troubling on his face that had lived there the entire last months you spent with him.
The closest thing you had to a true father, and he loved you like one. If you could have dragged him to safety then and there, you would have. Don't die for these people, you thought. The south will not remember you, they will all call you a traitor years after you're gone. But this was not in your control, it was a dream, not a chance to restore the wrongs done to this family.
A figure with darker hair, longer that sat flat against him slunk up to the side of him and you knew you had not seen him since that visit. “You at a feast, it's like a bear in a trap.” Benjen Stark was too much like many Stark fates, lost and unknown. Much like Bran, he was out in the far North and no one would find him.
He and Ned discussed something you hadn't quite caught, catching the laters words only at the tail end, “Said the Others slaughtered his friends.” It was warm in the hall, but you felt that chill once more. As early as that night was this darkness looming before you all, and still, none knew it and would not for years to come.
Benjen adding to his brothers words, “The two he was with are still missing.”
Both Starks were quiet for a moment, a look shared between them that was as knowing as it wished to be unknown. The Northerners always believed such things more then you all in the South, and the Starks understood better then any and all of those who did. But the answer of the question unspoken was not confident, nor did you think he meant it to be. “A wildling ambush.”
Just as the younger Stark spoke, your eyes found a figure passing in the crowd. Tall and broad with dark hair and a long face. You had no reason to notice them, but you did. Making their way from his place in the crowd slowly towards the door you now stood near. “Maybe. Direwolves south of the wall, talk of the Others, and my brother might be the next Hand of the King. Winter is coming.”
Just as the figure without a care in the world walked passed both men, you found a force compelling you to follow. But it wasn't the figure your eyes were focused on, and it wasn't the stranger which clawed at your heart until it beat harsh from your chest.
He looked so much lighter, that weight on his shoulders hadn't burdened him just yet and the bold blue in his eyes shined the way you remembered so vividly. Greeting his uncle, Robb Stark was not at that time the man you loved, but looking at him in such a memory you felt the scar under your dress burn in agony to go back to it.
Not a clue what he would become, what he would lose to get there, and..you dared not. You couldn't, not here, not when he was right in front of you. Speaking with a smile to his uncle, Robb was animated and laughed, smiled and joked and it was only alone with you did he do that by the end. He was still happy here, he had more family and hope then you and an unborn son named for the father standing next to him.
Eyes stinging, you needed to leave. You still felt a force calling to you, the stranger needing to be followed for why you were here but why leave? Robb was rarely happy in the end and you wanted to keep him here, keep him safe. The last you saw of Robb made you ill, even now you felt a sharpness in your mind to strike it from your eyes.
A weight in your chest formed as your hands unconsciously moved to your stomach. Weeks before a marriage he was forced into, he had no idea what lay ahead for you both. He should have stayed here, in this memory where he was happy. And alive. The tears watered and just as they fell you had to move away.
Lingering made the burning under your clothes worse and feeling nothing but the scar under the fabric made it worse. This memory was not about him, no matter how desperate you begged yourself to stay for just that. But you turned away before the tears could grow worse, as if Robb would see them. Follow the figure, not the loss that haunted.
The figure knew where he was going. Quick to catch up knowing Winterfell well, but they knew it well enough you had to run across the courtyard to catch him. The crypts, that was where he moved towards.
Looking around, none but your unseen shadow watched him, and you felt as if the feast was the perfect time. Escape and sneak just when all eyes were on the Kings company. He knew these people, and he was smart.
Stepping down the main stairs, you did not have to walk much to find where the stranger had gone. It was not far or deep or a mystery what he was looking for. It was one of the tombs long passed which he went towards. He knew what he was looking for, and he knew where to find it.
Approaching him slowly, you could not startle him but it felt eeiry in the crypts with such a stranger, like he might turn around and become the danger. But whatever he was searching for, was not there.
A hidden spot within the statue was pulled out and exposed nothing inside of it. The stranger, reacted little but wider eyes and an even wider frown. Standing abruptly, he looked from statue to statue but still nothing was as right to him as here, but it wasn't right. Whatever was hidden, whatever he snuck away from the feast to take, had been taken before him.
Looking right at you, he did not see you. Pulling the hood of his cloak up, he retreated the crypts as swiftly as he made his way to the steps. Your eyes could not see from here, where any you knew stood, they were in another stretch of hall, but you looked anyways. The only one who was in here now, was her, if this was any other sort of dream, you'd take the time, but you had to leave.
The air was so cold when you stepped from the crypts. The snow around your feet was deep and untouched, save for the path you stood at the beginning of. A figure in black knelt in a snowbank only feet from you. No one but a horse was around, and the dark hid the depths of the lands from what the moonlight could not touch.
The same dark hair, still long on him but now sat a fur on his shoulder painted in black. Coming behind him, all alone in the far North, Benjen Stark knelt down in the snow. A black bundle being placed in a hole with a heavy sigh. The symbol on the rock he covered it with, you did not know, but the rock looked old. The bundle, was something wrapped in a Nights Watch cloak.
Piling snow on top of it, Benjen stood on his own. No companions this far, and nothing to indicate why he had come all that way to bury something and hide it as such. Standing beside him, the wind blew against you both as he looked to the far North even further. Wherever Benjen was, you wondered, was the fate you were about to watch look the same was whatever Bran had found in this place?
The wind was cold as you both stood there, but as it blew, it grew stronger. And with the stronger winds, did it grow cold. It grew too cold, plummeting down that could freeze in seconds and the fear built too strong. You knew as Benjen did and fear was the only response.
Mists of snow were clouding the sight already smothered by darkness. Sword and blades all on his person, but it wasn't that which the man reached for, it was a glass like dagger that you recognized even in the windy darkness. Benjen knew what happening and he was prepared. Turning to his horse you moved to follow. Benjen being the compelling force drawing your attention, but it was not with him that you found your sights on.
Nor was it the approaching shadows that came with the winds in the far North. No, something else stood in the distance. Someone stood in the distance, and it wasn't the Others, nor Benjen Stark they watched. It was you. Far enough you could see little beyond the darkness, but you felt a shiver creeping up your spine not from the winds approaching.
Your dreams begged you to follow Benjen, but the man watching you turned and ran into the darkness opposite that. No one knew what happened to him, and the weight in your chest felt guilt and shame choking you for not finding out. But you needed to know this more. So away from the fate of a Stark none knew, you ran into the snowy darkness as the cold winds did not come with you.
Barley visible as they ran, a flowing cloak your only indication as the wind did not die around you, but yet grew warm. Warmer and warmer until the figure jumped from a cliff and as you followed it was not the north you found, but a hell surrounded in flames. The man was nowhere in your sights, but there wasn't anything in your sights but fire and lava, surrounding you as you felt your blood burn within but it did not consume you as it should.
At the mouth of a volcano, men all stood in a language you did not recognize did they chant. The fire burned brighter and the heat grew more unbearable as they shouted and shouted until a boom shook from deep within the earth below you. They did not run, standing brave and unchanging did the rumbles grow to crackings beneath your feet and spouts of lava shot up all around. Bubbling like a cauldron did the red heat grow.
It was as it came for you, this burning end did an arm grab you. Pulling you back, you knew there was nowhere to go so deep in the volcano. You could not run, but you were pulled back regardless. A gloved dressed in a fine silver steel tugged you back and with your stumble did you find fresh air and the brightness of day light in the surroundings. Rubble sat around you, smouldering and lifeless there was nothing of the sight you saw but one.
The man pulled his hood down but you still did not know him. He was not the stranger in the crypts of Winterfell, this was a man who looked with unsettling and bright shining blue eyes right at you, speaking your name.
Backing away many steps, you found your footing loose. Gravel falling from under your feet, turning to steady yourself found much of the ground in utter ruin. Skies tinged in red and buildings left in tatters of what appeared to be a broken stretch of nowhere. Not even the remains of corpses scattered about more then bones, but the smouldering made the air heavy and the vision of any darker then normal.
The sea surrounding you from the scattered, broken lands now crust and dirt looked like they were as fatal as the waters of Dragonstone once you had set it ablaze. Not green in this case, but an orange tint that looked like acid. Miles and miles the only thing was ruin that none could traverse, but yet you stood here in the blighted land.
Finding stable footing, you turned to the man watching with a glint, his eyes almost smiled something sickening at you even without the mouth forming up to match. Lips that were shaded in the vaguest of blue, a stain that was marked into them without care. Longer dark hair and a beard that was styled rather intentionally. Standing quite tall with armour scaled in black. Patterns you could not make out, glyphs and arcane symbols etched into it with the metal work just as ornate looking as the metal on his gloves.
His voice a vile sound that reminded you only of the whispers from Ramsay Bolton. Sharp in a painful way that set your hair on edge at it's very tone. He spoke with a purpose and candor only the danger was outright on this one instead of hidden behind a smarmy smile.
“It has been a long time since I've been in such a place. A truly long time, you have graced me with a rare opportunity.” A step was made towards you, but you made one backward. Your insides screaming to keep him away as you demanded to know who he was. A chuckle was what followed. Another step made closer and you circled around each one, keeping many feet between you. “I am the storm, little girl. The first storm, and the last.”
Shaking your head in the slightest, your voice was little more then a muttering. “That isn't an answer.”
You hated his laugh as much as you hated Ramsay's. Arms spread wide he looked to the ruins beyond and back to you with his blue eyes once more shining in a manner you distrusted. “Do you like games, we can play if you wish. I will tell you who I am, if you share how such a small girl like yourself survives a butchering at the hands of House Frey.”
Your scar burned, but you did not dare blink. You didn't speak either, he wished to talk then let him.
Bringing his arms up to rest across the ornate armour, he propped his chin up by his fist as he narrowed his eyes at you. “Or you could tell me exactly what you did to raise your precious bastard to life. I would accept either answer as the correct one, should you be a smart girl and not lie that is.”
The earth rumbled, winds blowing in the distance as if trying to reach you but couldn't flow passed miles beyond the man. One more you circled far away from him, finding any way to turn and run as if this was merely a chase to escape like waking life. “You shouldn't believe rumours. I was never dead, and neither was he.”
A lie, and he knew it. The grin on his lips would have been described as handsome, had it not once more reminded you of another just like him. Only this man, scared you more then Ramsay. A feat you did not think a mortal man could be capable of.
“We both know that isn't true. I have been from the furthest stretches of land and seen it all and more. From one end to the other, there is nothing I have not witnessed except for you and your King. The old ways can do much, but returning to life in such form like you? Not something I have seen. Tell me how, and I will tell you who I am.” He moved with a swift confidence, but you were quicker. Jumping from a crumbling rock to another before he could think to reach you once more.
Your voice was as even tempered as your stone still face, unmoving and unblinking trying to seek an escape from a dream with no ability to know how. “You must keep searching then, my lord. You will find no answers in me.”
The grin grew darker, “Lord.” A huff of a laugh left him with a grin knowing something you couldn't care less to be in on. “On the contrary, I will find much in you. I have not been here in so long, I've tried and searched and had no answers to take back what that old fuck took away from me. But here you are, all on your own in the world and I finally have a way back.” He jumped to a shaking rock just as you jumped to another in the ruined terrains. He liked the slow chase, a predator who played with his food.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
Voice shouting louder, it echoed as buildings crumbled from the impact. “Our dear friend has touched you, I know you know what I am speaking of, you can't not. Do not play stupid with me, little girl. It doesn't suit those like us.” You shook your head once, you didn't have any answers but even if you did, you wouldn't give them to whatever this man was. “We don't need to dance around each other. You can tell me the truths you have seen, I know what it feels to be so knowing when others around couldn't possibly understand. It's freeing, like being able to fly when all others call you a fool for it.”
The earth rumbled under your own stance but he seemed not to notice. Whatever this was, it was his control now and you could only jump to find ground that belonged to you. Stepping backwards more, you could turn somewhat and see flat earth that might not break open to the earth. You only needed a few more feet to jump away to find land and run. “I don't have time for this, I don't have time for any of this. Let me walk away-”
Laugh was condescending if any man could be the most. “Walk? Where do you think you are? In the ruins, hoping to survive what only I have done? No little girl, we both know not even you could survive this. You're likely asleep aren't you? Tucked away in your bastards arms like a good whore would, dreaming of another man beacuse a Snow is nothing compared to a Crow.”
You didn't play word games, but you didn't spill secrets like water. So you stayed silent, letting it fester in anger in this stranger. You felt eyes watching you from deep within these ruins, but you could not see past the smouldering to spot them, even though the feeling crept closer as the man did.
Narrowing his eyes at you, he smirked once more. “We're here for a reason, I have searched for someone like you for years. Imagine my joy upon finding a thing like you to be it rather then the old one who stole it all from me. We are here to work together, you need only come to me. I'll even tell you my name, little girl.”
Land was close, but you couldn't get there fast enough. “I don't need anything from you.”
You felt as if you were beginning to hate every single pair of blue eyes that didn't belong to Robb, they all looked at you like something to torment, lesser then. Only his were the ones who deserved to look at you anymore, and you'd do anything to make this mans stop.
“The old man cannot help you as I can. He's touched you, but rest assured mine is far better. Let me in, and I can teach you whatever you want. How to control it, how to fly. Wouldn't you like that? Leaping from a tall tower and feeling the wind like a bird does? No man ever truly knows he can do it, unless he dares to leap. But I can ensure you will soar right along side me. Just come to me.”
Backing away and away, you refused to let him near. You knew such offers and smiles, that charm which was nothing but a lie waiting to strike. The other blue, the pale ones that still caked your skin in a dirt you couldn't clean tried to sound just as this one did. They were all the same and they were too blind to know you could see through it.
You suspected he hated that you barley reacted to him. Words can only hurt so much, you thought and you had suffered more then words for a year and came out on the other side. It will take more then this to manipulate you by now. “You speak as if you think yourself of a god. I can assure you, my lord, no god would dare waste his time on someone like me. You're just a man.”
Oh that did anger him. His voice growling as if tearing the earth around you as it cracked, booms following each raise of his voice. “I am more then a man. I am the godliest man to ever raise sail, girl. You serve a mere seven gods, but I served ten thousand. From Ib to Asshai, when men see my sails, they pray.”
Roars surrounded you as he came close, and quickly you found yourself running out of time. You had no where to go in his control and the moment you felt him grab you, the only blade sat at your side came up in an instant to slash at him. Cutting through the fabric of his hand below the metal he yelled out, only the leap you turned to make found yourself slamming to the ground with once more fire screaming around you.
This time you could see the men in the volcano standing without faces, blank spaces where they should be and no mouths to speak. Only voices from above that sung in your ear one after another as the flames flew around and shot out to the lands with screams above.
“Brave men kill them, terrible evil beasts.”
“You crows with your swords and your cloaks and your bloody fires. That won't help you none when the white cold comes.”
“I pray for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, and R'hllor shows me only Snow.”
Eyes closing roughly, as you tried to force yourself up to your feet. Telling yourself it was a dream, the man had said himself, it was a dream and you could run in a dream and escape. Just as the fire burned around you did you turn to see him once more standing across from you. “Make this easy girl, if you run, I will take from you the likes you've never been had.”
Inhaling deeply, you stepped back and back further. Nowhere to go he would have you believe, but as your foot felt the edge to the lava below, you found a confidence. It wasn't his dream, he had said as much. It was yours. And your dreams followed that of your life. You chose ice not fire. The moment your feet stepped over the empty air it was not Jons bed you woke in, but landing backwards in the daylight of snow.
Where you had seen Benjen Stark, but no sign of him was left. Your dreams had always been vivid in such nightmares but you never had any consciousness within them like this, and that terrified you of when you'd ever come out of it.
Scrambling up to your knees, your head whipped around searching for the spot which Benjen had buried whatever it was he left here. As if the snow was untouched around you, it didn't move when you'd brush it away despite feeling the cold on your hands. You had been shown this for a reason, you couldn't leave without the answer you were forced away from by the blue eyed stranger.
But he was not yet done with you. The feeling of eyes came upon your back, and slowly you turned around still braced mostly on the ground did he approach looking large and terrifying. Voice a shout that echoed over the snowy mountains, “You had a chance to make this easy, girl. But the Crow's Eye will not be bested by a little whore.” The blade had flown from your hand as you fell into the North, and was too far away.
This was a dream, and he was not Ramsay. So why did you feel yourself fill with the same paralyzing terror of the nights he came to you? Why did it feel as real as it ever did?
But the moment he got close, the moment he reached to drag you to him, did a figure leap from nowhere you had seen. Something large and white flew past your vision with a growling snarl, and blood splattered into the ground with a painful cry from the stranger.
Ghost had appeared, and tore into him with little fight back to loosen the grip. Hands weaponless could only try and grab at the direwolf who then growled and snapped towards his neck but was thrown back slightly in the entangle.
You looked at the blade, and the stranger looked at you. You went for it, and so he went for you. Ghost once more tore at him but he was resilient and not even the direwolf could penetrate the ornate armour when teeth found steel. You didn't need to strike his armour though. This was a dream, but the stranger was still a man.
He tried going to you, and as Ghost stood barrier between you both did you grab the blade. Turning up and grabbing onto the direwolf enough to steady yourself. Hands stung painfully as blood splattered across you and the white fur but you sunk the blade deep into his left eye. A violent scream came as he bled and bled, but just as you heard a deep voice in the sky rasping your name did you wake up.
Eyes flying open, you gasped in an overwhelming dizziness sitting up. Not for a moment though did you question the touch behind you. Jons warmth pulled you back into him desperately as he seemed just as out of breathe as you.
Gentle shushes in your ear did Jon calm you with, but you grabbed his arms around you and he found your hand tightly. Neither of you spoke, hell, you both were still as you fell asleep, as bare and connected as before but now your hearts pounded with something terrifying.
As it was not only a dream you had, and it was not Ghost who came to you in it.
#jon snow x reader#robb stark x reader#jon snow#robb stark#game of thrones#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf#jon snow x you#robb stark x you#jon snow imagine#robb stark imagine#game of thrones imagines
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being a girl in love III
Kylian Mbappé x reader, au
I like these two, I've decided to give our girly a name in this one, planning to make more chapters because why not 🤭
I used some french, so forgive me for any wrong spelling haha
Anyway enjoy!
warning: soft smut
As she stood at the end of the room with her eyes glued in one direction she felt like a main character of an exhausting satire in which love as it is all around seems to avoid her at all costs, making her yearn for it to come and embrace her, yet instead flee away every time she tries to reach for it, laughing at her face as it does. Is it a curse of a young soul? To feel the love that instead of filling you it’s leaving you hollow? Or is it a tragedy of all human being? To feel at all?
Breathing steady she watched him being surrounded by a group of girls, each of them so hungry for his attention. He’s always been this person, confident and so charismatic, full of magnetism, making everyone drawn into him. But lately he’s been turning into something even bigger, a star, and he was shining already, she could see that clearly. Those wonderful opportunities that kept coming to him made her proud and joyful, of course! But it kept digging at her heart at it’s best, taking him away from her. She wondered how much time has she left, to see him the way she has had all this time.
She brought the tall glass up to her lips feeling slightly ridiculous standing there stiffly, dressed in a carefully selected little outfit. It wasn’t something provocative yet the short tennis skirt that revealed her long legs started bugging her, bringing in thoughts as if she tried too hard to drawn eyes to her. And there she was, hiding in a corner in a pretty, neat skirt and her lips glossy.
“Do you need a refill?” she heard somebody’s voice on her right.
Still holding the glass near her lips she brought her eyes to the side to meet with a very bright blue ones of a boy at least two heads taller than her. Quite pleasant height difference, she thought. But without a word she simply handed him her glass still half full of the drink and passed him, heading straight to the stairs that lead to the second floor of the house. At least she was at her place, so she choose to hide for the rest of the night somewhere where she can stop pretending. And she didn’t realise that somebody���s dark curious eyes followed her up.
She didn’t mind the loud noises echoing through the walls, though it was slightly quieter as she curled up on her bed with a book in her hands. Unfortunately she could not focus on the words displayed in front of her, as she kept re-reading sentences and turning back pages to understand the strand of the plot. What was it again? But what can be done, the one who loves must share the fate of the one he loves*.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door of the room. It startled her.
“Zoe? Are you in there?”
She froze when she realised it was Kylian’s voice, still she got up and reached for the knob. The first thing she felt was his fresh, citrus scent, then she felt her heart at the bottom of her stomach. God, so that’s what they meant when they said love makes one stupid.
“Why did you sneak out so quickly?” he asked effortlessly.
“I was bored”
He simply nodded at her answer, briefly looking behind her as if to check if she was alone.
“Can I come in?” his voice low and calm.
After letting him inside she headed back straight to the bed and he followed. It didn’t surprise her at all. It has happened before.
She snorted noticing him making himself comfortable with his head rested on the biggest fluffy pillow in her collection.
“Were you not enjoying the party?” she asked curiously, grabbing back the book that laid on the nightstand.
“I got a bit tired”
“What is it? You don’t like it?” her index finger rested at the edge of the book page.
“What?” he curiously turned his head in her direction.
“The attention” she looked back at him.
His eyes were so dark, it might have the power to hypnotize against your will. But she looked nonetheless.
A smug smirk appeared on his face, the one that always made him look like a cocky bastard. She loved it. She bit the inside of her cheek trying to surpass the foolish grin.
“It’s nice but I don’t really care for it”
She gasped sarcastically.
“A teenage boy, does not care for a women attention” imitating a shocked face she laughed afterwards.
He rose up on his elbow to face her. A gentle smile still visible on his face.
“So we’re talking about women attention?”
She rolled her eyes focusing back on the open pages on her lap.
“You’re getting a lot of it” she shrugged.
“Is that wrong?” his voice turned lower.
She stiffened. The paper under her palm started turning tacky.
“No..” she replied drawlingly.
Her features frowned in concentration as she pretended to read her book in utter fascination.
“What are you reading?” changing the subject he did not move the slightest.
She could feel his heavy gaze on her. The ghost of their previous conversation still lingering above them.
“Master and Margarita”
“What is that?”
“It’s a novel of Russian literature”
“Sounds tough”
She smiled at his answer.
“Would you read to me?”
His question struck her dumb. She brought her eyes up to look his way. His expression softer than before.
“Out loud?”
His eyes glinted in amusement as he noticed her confusion. It was really sweet, her eyes turned round and sparkly.
“You can whisper if you prefer. But you have to move closer or I won’t hear very well” he joked laying his head back on the pillow.
She considered. Looking back at the top of the chapter she cleared her throat with intention to read the first sentence. But surprisingly something different left her mouth. And she almost bit off her own tongue at the sound of it:
“Did you fuck Lea?”
She could feel a little stir on the side, but did not dare to look.
“Is that in the book?” he asked.
“No, it was a question” she commented almost bringing herself in dismay of this straightforwardness.
But it was done.
“Who’s Lea?”
She shot him a scolding look. She chose to act insolent and he decided to play dumb. What a fantastic combination.
“That friend of yours? I don’t really know her. What kind of question is that?” his voice turned stern and it made her uncomfortable.
She regretted the question deeply.
“Forget about it” she shrugged trying to stand up but he caught her arm in time, making her sit back down.
“Zoe” he murmured searching for her eyes.
Oh, she was in trouble. She looked up into his big eyes and felt so, so stupid. Why she has to be so stupid? A little wrinkle appeared between his brows.
“I made a mistake, sorry” she tried to play it off, because something was seriously wrong here.
She could read in his expression that he would not let it pass forgotten so she sighed in surrender.
“She said that you were together at Theo’s party few weeks ago”
“Doing what?”
“Kylian” she protested begging him in her thoughts to not make her say it.
He moved, sitting back and leaning his back against the pillows.
“You started it” he snapped back.
It angered her that he was so agitated with this subject. Maybe she had no right to ask, but she did not like this attitude he was showing.
“I don’t know what she said to you but I didn’t touch her, ever. That’s fucked up”
“So she lied, it’s settled”
She stood up feeling the urge to create some space between them since the atmosphere switched from warm and friendly into an awkward quarrel. Looking at the clock on the dresser she realised the time was very late and she would love to change from her indecently short skirt to some comfortable sleep shorts. The weight of the silence that formed in her room squeezed at her throat. She wondered what he was thinking about now, glad that he actually denied if something ever happened between him and her friend. Or maybe he was the one who lied, but why would he feel the need to?
She heard the movement on the bed behind her and tensed wondering if he’s going to leave her because of this pathetic act of impudence directed his way. And she will regret it to the point where it starts eating at her heart.
“Come here” he called to her, gently but his low and deep voice caused shivers to run down her spine.
The word choice almost knocked her out. A demand that made her legs go weak. And how dare he make her feel like this? Small and so full of desire that she couldn’t even think straight? Was it his intention to fuck her up all the way?
As a stubborn and proud girl she was she turned around keeping a vexed face on. He was sitting at the edge of the bed with his elbows propped on the knees.
“Are you trying to boss me around in my own room?” a shaky breath out.
He did something and she noticed. He eyed her down, eyes high on her legs. God.
“I’m sorry” he snickered “Zoe, would you please come and sit next to me?”
She hesitated biting on her lip. Slowly she approached him and he straightened up.
“I’ve never been with a girl” he confessed looking at her confidently.
For a moment she stopped breathing, surprised by his words, confused since she was sure he must have already reached for something that’s been presented to him on a plate. These girls has been dying to have a moment with him, to talk about nothing with him, to spend time in his presence, to touch his arm, to lend him notes if he asked or a goddamn pen during class. He had so much confidence and charm around him, there was no way… But he spoke the truth and he wasn’t ashamed of it. She saw it in his eyes.
She spoke nothing back yet.
“You? Have you been with someone?” he asked looking away and she went stiff.
“No” her voice weaker that she thought it would be.
“I saw you with Jules couple of times” he fiddled with his fingers and she frowned in curiosity.
He broke the character, it was a sign of nervousness.
“He’s not exactly someone I want” she whispered observing his reaction.
Finally he looked back at her and her heart stopped once again. Wherever this was going she surely is going to loose her mind in the meantime.
“So” he continued “There is someone”
She nodded slowly.
“Do I know him?” he frowned blinking fast as if unsure if he should even ask.
“Mhm” she murmured fighting the need to kiss him now in this moment, her body full of doubt if it won’t be another tremendous mistake of hers.
But he saw something in her eyes. She wasn’t sure what but his own iris shone so vividly and shortly after he reached with his hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. A breath caught in her throat. He heard that.
Her loving heart almost burst through her chest, pumping the hot blood in every vain as if it was bringing back life into her limbs.
Unexpectedly he wrapped his arm around her middle and pulled her closer to him, one of her legs bent at the knee met with his hip so he put the other over his thigh to minimalize the distance. Her skirt hiked up ridiculously high and it hit her again, the need. She was so unexperienced but she wanted to strip herself bare in front of this boy, to show him it belonged to him. Since the first moment she started changing into a woman.
They both weren’t sure what to do then, so the next moments were full of deep stares, their breathing mixing and their hearts beating to each other. So sweet and so blissful it felt like a dream.
Bringing up her hands she put them on his nape thinking about nothing else but his lips so close. She couldn’t tell who leaned in first but when they finally kissed something instantly switched inside of her as she came to the realisation that he wanted her the same way she wanted him. And she had him here, under her palms. Both of them a bit nervous about the gentle contact yet determined to have a proper taste of each other. She opened her mouth feeling his tongue grazing her lower lip and an uncontrolled moan left her throat when it connected with hers. He wasn’t her first kiss but it felt so new, she’s never been kissed this way. He broke the contact at the little sound and the look on his face was so full of desire it made her head spin. Two horny teenagers at the verge of resilience.
All of a sudden in the midst of it all there was a knock on the door. The noise from downstairs came back more prominent and the reality struck her hard. Someone pulled at the doorknob shortly after and she froze in distress. Luckily the door was locked.
“Zoe?” she could tell it was her brother “Have you seen Kylian?”
She locked eyes with Kylian, watching a mischievous smirk appearing on his face.
“Je dors, Anto (I’m sleeping)” she answered, her voice suspiciously shaky.
Her brother was definitely too drunk to notice anything misplaced. Kylian squeezed her thigh and she jumped nervously sending him a scolding look.
They waited a few seconds but there came no response, only some voices disappearing down the corridor.
“They’re going to kill me” Kylian muttered placing a hand on her cheek, thumb tracing her lips delicately.
“My brothers?” she placed her hands on the boy’s chest, making him rest against the pillows.
Carefully she straddled him, positioning herself in the most perfect way it made his eye widen. She could feel him already and all the muscles in her tummy twitched making her loose her breath for a second. She had a lot of trouble breathing tonight.
“You’re a big boy Mbappé, you can handle them”
His hands reached for her hips as if to stop her from any movement or to try and guide her against him. Yet he stayed still, his touch soft but firm. That magical feeling she tasted back then in the river came back thousand times stronger.
“Are you planning to stay and hide in my room till the morning?”
“All alone with you in this bed? It’s risky” he murmured admiring her seated on top of him.
It struck her with a huge dose of confidence. She lowered her upped body, placing her hands on each side of his head. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, pupils blown wide with his mouth slightly ajar. She was mesmerized at the sight of him, her dream boy, she intended to keep him hers. She felt she had all the power right now to make it that way.
She leaned in and kissed him gently before moving away to grab the edges of her sweater to pull it off her body. His eyes glinted as if he was a little boy gifted the fanciest present he could ever dream of. She watched him intake a big breath.
“I’m a dead man” he shook his head as his eyes roamed her chest covered by a silky material of the bra.
She liked this one, so she was glad she wore it tonight. Small victories.
She smirked watching him get up to pull her closer to his chest. Tingles spread quickly all over her body after he placed his hot lips on her collarbone, tracing the delicate skin of her neck to finally reach her mouth. He hummed into the kiss making her press herself firmly against him. It stunned both of them as they could feel their bodies respond to this intimate touch.
“Merde” he breathed “Can this pretty skirt go?”
She smiled shyly at his question, moving away from him to stand up, confidently reaching for the zipper of the clothing, making sure she’ll make a little show of taking it off. She slid the material off her hips and down her thighs slowly, his eyes following the movement in utter fascination. Zoe blushed furiously as he focused his attention on her clothed sex.
“It’s not fair” she said “You’re fully clothed”
He smirked amused.
“I’ll undress if you do a spin”
The requirement made her chuckle.
Oh, boy.
“Am I a model at an exhibition?” she bantered.
“Tu es la plus belle fille sur laquelle j'ai jamais posé les yeux (You are the most beautiful girl I have ever laid my eyes on). Please, can I see you?”
The look on her face turned serious. Her heart squished with affection, she’s never heard such words filled with admiration of her beauty. Easy way to make a girl fall for a boy, but she trusted him.
A bit unsure she took a step taking her time to turn around, letting him observe her body as he wished. Gentle move, she felt as if wasn’t sexy enough to impress him. He was already on his feet when she faced him, taking his shirt off swiftly. She blinked quickly feeling her cheeks heat up at the sight which wasn’t new to her, it’s the situation so knew and so exciting. Stepping closer he reached for her, pulling her closer, his nose nuzzling her ear.
“Your heart is beating so fast” he whispered and she giggled remembering their little moment in the river.
Guiding her fingers lower down his chest, taking pleasure in the feeling of his silky skin under her palms, she reached for the button of the pants he was wearing. She was desperate to feel him again against her. Looking into his eyes she searched for permission.
“Go on” he murmured, his hands low on her back.
He brought his lips back to her throat, the sensation made her close her eyes, head thrown back, fingers shaky at the top of the zipper of his pants. She whimpered when he bit down at the skin near her ear. His pants already on the floor. Taking her hand in his he guided them back to bed.
I really just cut it in the most interesting moment.........
*Michaił Bułhakow, Master and Margarita, 1967
#kylian mbappe imagine#mbappe imagine#mbappe x reader#football imagine#football fics#mbappe smut#mbappe fluff#kylian mbappe fic
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RED | RAN H.
Requested by🛍️ Anon — for the 2k event
Prompt: "You didn't have to use her like that"
Warning: Curses, mention of cheating, yandere tendency and blood
a/n: sorry it took so long T-T and guys this turned to someeting dark idk what happened so read at your own risk.
If Ran didn't know any better, he'll say you look hot as you barge into the VIP room in the club, you were fuming but that sly smirk didn't leave his face. red did always look good on you.
"did you have to stop so low as to use my sister against me?" you growl towards him, a deep scowl on your face and Ran knew that look, you were beyond mad.
shooing the few others with him out of the room, he grabs his half-full glass on the table, swirling its red contents as he smirks at you, "effective, isn't it? you're here"
you scoff in disbelief, "My sister is crying her eyes out right now, was breaking my heart not enough for you?" you flung your arms in the air exasperated, remembering your sobbing sister as she tells you how Ran had cornered her and flirted with her, days after you two broke up.
in his defense, Ran knew you the best, he has seen every side of you, the good and the bad, and he knew the only way to get a reaction out of you or to get your attention again was to flirt with your sister, and probably make her cry. cruel but this is Ran we're talking about.
if ever, you should have known he'll result to an underhand tactic like this because while Ran knew you the best, you knew him better than anyone and you never think any different of him.
"you didn't have to user her like that!" you spat, eyes burning with anger at his audacity to take a sip from his glass before slamming it down on the table.
"I wouldn't, if you had just talked to me" he argued back, voice raising more than he liked it, as he pulls himself up from his seat as he walks towards you.
"talk to you?!" you asked exasperatedly, "after what you did? you really are something, I tried really hard but I can't see that you cheating, warranting me to talk to you"
"I told you, she just flung herself to me, she's a nobody" he defended as he stops a few inches away from you. bringing up his hand to cup your cheeks but you were quick to slap it away.
"fuck you, Ran!" you said with venom, "don't ever get near me, nor my sister, or anyone in my family again"
you warned as you turn around to walk away from him, for good, but Ran wouldn't be having any of it as he grab you so abruptly, and before you can curse at him again he slams his lips against yours.
his kiss was passionate and filled with everything he felt for you, heated and burning red. but as soon as his lips separated from yours a resounding slap echoed in the room. and as soon as Ran glances at your expression, his heart sinks.
tear-stricken face and lips trembling, his eyes soften ever so slightly. the gravity of the situation weighing on him, as he suddenly hated the idea of him being the very reason for your tears. if your crying and sobbing days ago as you curse at him for catching him with another woman didn't break his heart, the sight of you looking up at him with so much hatred and resentment right now does the damage.
"I'm sorry" he mumbled, words spewing his mouth as his pride was quickly overcome with guilt, "If I have to kneel and beg for you not to leave me, I'll do it, if it meant you staying'"
you yanked your arms out of his hold, and Ran is not a fool to grab them again. he watch you furiously wipe the hot tears coming and he wanted nothing but to wipe them for you but he was busy staring intently at you for some kind of sign that you will take him back but your eyes were dull and lifeless as you calm down.
"Please don't show yourself in front of me again" you deadpan as you sniff and left, taking his heart and soul with you, what he did was a mistake, a mistake that cost him life without you, a mistake he did out of temptation for he was weak against it.
So when the temptation to see you covered in red in the form of your blood pooling under you came over him, he was weak to resist.
Red did always suit you better
#y-umiko 2k event#tokyo revengers oneshot#tokyo revengers ran#ran haitani#haitani ran#ran haitani x reader#tokyo revengers x you#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyorev x reader#tokyo revengers angst#tokyo rev x y/n#tokyo rev x you#tokyo rev x reader#tokyorevengers#tokyo revengers#haitani ran imagines#ran x y/n#ran x reader#ran x you#haitani x reader
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The Chief’s Daughter
Summary: It had been six years since your father left you behind in New York. However, now that your mother was gone, you had no choice but to drive to Hawkins to find him. That's where you meet Billy Hargrove, who turns your life upside down... literally.
Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: language, blood
Previous Chapter
Chapter 7-
The Mustang wouldn't start. Probably a broken radiator if you had to guess which was why you found yourself following the train tracks through the woods with Steve Harrington and a bunch of kids.
"Tell me again, why we're going after this Demogorgon?" You asked, breaking the silence.
"Because they're crazy, that's why." Max responded and you found yourself agreeing with her.
These guys were crazy. This whole situation was crazy and it might be the concussion that was definitely still effecting you, but you were still having trouble believing what you had just seen.
The kids had the audacity to look offended by the redhead's response, but none of them had the chance to say anything in defence before a voice suddenly shouted in the distance.
"Hello? Who's there?!" The male voice called out, causing you all to stop in your tracks. "Who's there?!"
"I know that voice." Steve whispered, motioning for the rest of you to follow as he took the lead and within a minute you found yourself walking out the woods towards a tall wire fence that surrounded the Hawkins lab.
Wait, was this the lab that El escaped from? It had to be.
You were so focused on the large building behind the tall fence that you didn't even notice the car parked in front of the closed gate or Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers staring at the group of you in confusion.
"Steve?" They both question in utter shock.
"Nancy?" Steve replied with equal amounts of shock.
"What are you doing here?" Nancy questioned.
"What are you doing here?" Steve questioned back as you all walked over to them.
"We're looking for Mike and Will." She answered like it was meant to be obvious.
"They're not in there, are they?" Dustin asked, pointing towards the lab beyond the fence.
"We're not sure."
As if on cue, familiar growls echoed through the still night air. The growls came straight from the lab. Dart had gone to the lab and by the sound of it, there were other Demogorgons there too.
Nancy glanced over at you and frowned a little like she only just realised you were there before her head snapped towards Steve.
"Isn't that the new girl from school? She shouldn't be here and why is she covered in blood?"
Steve glanced over at you, his eyes flashing up to the cut on your forehead before turning back to Nancy, "she's the Chief's daughter and she saved our lives."
"And she killed two Demogorgons." Dustin added.
"Seriously?" Nancy and Jonathan both asked in surprise.
You opened your mouth to respond, but didn't get the chance when suddenly the power seemed to get switched on, the laboratory lighting up before the tall electronic fence began to open.
"Finally. Jonathan, c'mon." Nancy quickly said, rushing over to her car.
"Whoa, wait, wait-"
"We're going to see what's going on. Wait here." She said, cutting Steve off before she climbed into the car and sped off through the gate towards the building.
"What do we do now?" Lucas asked, watching the car drive off.
Steve just shrugged his shoulders, "I guess we wait."
You leant against the side of the fence, your head still thumping while you mentally started to tally up how much it would cost to fix the Mustang, but that was just making your head hurt worse, so you quickly stopped thinking about it.
A few minutes later, two headlights came speeding back towards the gate and you watched in confusion as Nancy's car sped straight past before the second car skidded to a halt in front of you all.
It took you a solid five seconds before you realised that it was the Chiefs vehicle and then took you another few seconds before realising that Hopper was in the driver's seat.
He rolled the car window down and shouted at you all to get in, but had to do a double take when he saw you standing with the others.
Hopper was here. He was still here... he hadn't just taken El and left town. He hadn't abandoned you like you thought he had.
Steve was quick to open the back door and the kids all piled inside before he followed, leaving you with the passenger seat and you reluctantly climbed inside. You could feel your fathers eyes glued to you, but you just stared out the side window while he tapped the car into gear and sped off away from the lab.
"What are you guys doing here? What happened to you?" Hopper questioned and without looking you knew the last part was aimed at you.
"What happened to me? What happened to you?!" You snapped, turning to glare at him.
"Huh?"
"You've been gone for days. You left me again! I thought..." You trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud, but the by the sudden guilty expression that washed over him, he knew what you meant.
"Shit, kid. I wouldn't just pack up and leave you." He said causing you to chuckle almost hysterically.
"That is rich coming from the man that abandoned me six years ago."
"Y/N, I didn't-"
"Didn't what?" You challenged, turning in your chair to face him. "You abandoned me."
"I loved you." He responded, sparing a glance at you before focusing back on the road as he drove.
"That was love?"
"Yes. Yes, it was."
"Oh, okay. Then why did you leave?" You asked, aware that Steve and the kids were listening, but you didn't care.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"If you loved me so much, why weren't you there? Why did you leave me?"
"I tried." He argued, his hands tightening around the steering wheel as he spoke. "I always tried-"
"You weren't there. You were never fucking there! You left! Sara died and you fucking left!"
"Enough!" Hopper shouted, raising his voice louder than you had ever heard it causing you to flinch before he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
Nobody said anything for the longest time, the car eerily silent. You lifted your legs up and hugged your knees to your chest, resting your chin on top and stared out the window.
"Look, I'm sorry for raising my voice." Hopper eventually said after a few minutes of tense silence. "That's a lot of blood on your face. How badly are you hurt?"
"Like you care." You muttered under your breath, keeping your head turned to the window.
Hopper sighed and you tensed ready him to start yelling, but instead he glanced to the others through the revision mirror and spoke to them.
"Harrington, you wanna tell me why you kids were at the lab? And why my daughter is bleeding from the head?"
"We were following Dart." Dustin answered.
"What?"
"A small Demogorgon. We were following a Demogorgon." Steve quickly clarified.
"You were what?!" Hopper questioned in shock. glancing over his shoulder at them.
"Y/N already killed two of them." Max added.
You felt your fathers eyes back on you, but you kept looking out the window before he sighed.
"Jesus Christ. Okay, is anyone else hurt?" He asked, turning the car onto the main road.
"Uh, no, no, we're all okay." Steve answered, after looking over all the kids to double check. "Y/N probably has a concussion though."
There was no probably about it. You definitely had a concussion, you knew that for certain. But were you going to tell Hopper that? Absolutely not.
"Okay. We're going back to the Byers and I'll explain everything there."
After that, nobody said anything else and you continued to stare out the side window in silence until the car pulled up in front of what you assumed was the Byers house and you all climbed out.
You sat on the couch while Mrs. Byers applied a couple butterfly bandages to the cut on your forehead, the others all discussing and explaining what was happening. You found out about the Mind Flayer that had apparently taken over Will Byers and that there was a gate to the Upside Down open in the lab along with a bunch of tunnels under Hawkins? You honestly weren't sure if any of that was correct, your concussion making it really hard to focus at this point.
"She going to be alright?" Hopper asked, walking over to you and Joyce.
"She definitely has a concussion, but the bleeding has stopped. She'll be fine." Joyce reassured and Hopper physically relaxed hearing those words. "Why didn't you tell me that you had a daughter, Jim?"
"Don't take it too hard. He never told anyone about me." You said, speaking up for the first time.
Hopper glared at you, but didn't say anything in response before he turned to Joyce, "can I have a minute alone with her?"
Joyce nodded before quickly packing up her small first aid kit and walking away, leaving Hopper standing in front of you, his eyes glued to the butterfly bandages with an uneasy expression.
"You should have been more careful."
You rolled your eyes, "I saved their lives."
"Yeah, and you could have lost your life doing it." He snapped, anger staring to rise in his voice.
"Like you'd give a shit anyway." You mumbled softly to yourself.
"Can we not do this?" He asked, motioning between the two of you. "We got bigger things to deal with instead of this petty arguing, okay? Can we both just agree to be adults right now?"
You wanted to argue, but knew he was right. The Mind Flayer had taken control of Will Byers and once the boy wakes up the Mind Flayer will know exactly where you all were and would be coming. That was the thing you needed to be focused on.
"Yeah."
Hopper nodded, "okay, good. Where's El?"
You frowned in confusion. Wait, he didn't know where El was? How could he not know?
"I thought she was with you... she was gone the same day you were."
"Shit." Hopper sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.
In the end, it was decided to take Will out to the garden shed where the Mind Flayer wouldn't be able to pinpoint your location. Joyce, Jonathan, Mike and Hopper would try and get through to Will in hopes the boy knew how to kill the Mind Flayer.
The rest of you waited impatiently before Hopper discovered that Will was trying to talk through morse code and after some messing around, the words 'CLOSE GATE' was deciphered.
Will wanted you to close the gate. Would the Mind Flayer die if you closed the gate?
"Close the gate in the lab and the Mind Flayer dies? Is that what the kid is trying to tell us?" You asked from where you were sitting at the table with an icepack to your forehead.
"I think-" One of the kids began to say before the house phone began to ring loudly.
"Shit, shit." Dustin swore, sprinting across the room and hanging up the phone.
"Do you think he heard that?" Max asked, glancing through the window to the garden shed.
"It's just a phone. It could be anywhere. Right?" Steve asked hesitantly.
You opened your mouth to try and reassure the group before the distant growls of Demogorgons echoed from outside.
Yep, the Mind Flayer definitely knew where you all were. Shit.
A few seconds later, Jonathan, Joyce and Mike rushed back into the house. Will unconscious in his brothers arms as Jonathan laid him down on the couch before Hopper closed the door behind himself now holding what looked to be some kind of bolt-action rifle.
"Hey, get away from the windows!" He instructed, looking at the kids.
They all quickly listened and jumped away from the windows while everyone looked around in panic not knowing what to do.
"You remember how to use this?" Hopper asked, holding the rifle towards you.
You nodded taking the gun and checking the chamber before actioning bolt on the side and aiming at the front door.
Steve was quick to grab his spiked baseball bat, Hopper with an assault rifle, Lucas with his slingshot and you were pretty sure Mike had picked up a candle holder or something, but you kept your focus on the front door as the growls of the Demogorgons grew closer and closer.
You rested your finger over the trigger, looking down the open sights as you took in a few deep breaths waiting for the monsters to break through the front door or windows, but it never happened.
The growls of the Demogorgons quickly turned to pained yelps and a second later one of the monsters crashed through the front window, landing in the corner of the room, unmoving.
What the fuck?
Slowly, Hopper walked over to it, nudging the creature with his boot, but it still didn't move. The Demogorgon was dead.
The front door creaked and you spun around, stepping in front of Max and Dustin protectively with the gun raised just as the door flew open and your eyes widened when El stepped inside.
Blood was dripping from her nose and it wasn't hard to figure out that she had killed the monster, but what you were mainly focused on was the new look she was rocking. Her hair was slicked back with gel and had black eyeliner on. It was different, but hey, you were pretty sure most girls went through this kind of phase at some stage.
"Eleven." Mike whispered, stepping forward as you lowered the rifle with a sigh of relief.
"Mike." El replied, the two of them meeting halfway and hugging.
You smiled softly at the young love before they pulled apart and El looked over at you, her eyebrows furrowing in concern when she saw the dry blood down the side of your face.
"Hurt." She said, walking over to you.
"Nah, kid. I'm fine."
She didn't believe you and you figured it was probably her powers and she was able to tell that you weren't exactly 'fine', but before she could say anything else you hugged her.
Hopper walked over to the two of you with a relieved expression and he tried to sound angry as he spoke, but you knew he wasn't. "The hell is this? Where have you been?"
El let go of you and turned to face him, "where have you been?"
Hopper didn't answer and instead he pulled the girl into his chest and hugged her. There was a weird little pang in your heart watching the small display of affection between them. A small part of you longed for a hug like that from your father, but at the same time, you knew you would push him away if he tried.
"You've been hiding her?" Mike asked, but it was clear the boy had already figured it out. "You've been hiding her this whole time!"
Mike shoved Hopper in the back causing him to turn around with a stern expression.
"Hey! Let's talk. Alone."
With that, Hopper pulled Mike to one of the spare rooms while El reunited with her friends and you sat back down at the table and grabbed the icepack you had been using earlier.
"You doing okay?" Steve asked, sitting down in the chair beside you.
"Peachy." You mumbled, pressing the icepack to your pounding forehead.
"That was, uh, a pretty heated conversation in the car with the Chief."
"Yeah, well, we don't exactly get alone."
"Yeah, I kinda put that together." Steve replied, glancing over his shoulder just as Mike and Hopper walked back into the room.
El announced that she could close the gate, but before she could do that, they needed to get the Mind Flayer out of Will.
The Mind Flayer apparently liked cold temperatures. So, Joyce, Nancy and Jonathan were going to take Will to the cabin and heat the place up like a sauna to get it out of the kid and Hopper was going to take El to lab and once Will was free, she would close the gate.
The rest of you were on strict instructions to stay in the Byers house and wait for them to come back. That was it and you weren't complaining.
Steve and Dustin were currently trying to shove the dead Demogorgon into Mrs. Byers fridge because the kid claimed it was for science and Steve couldn't seem to say no to him.
You moved from the kitchen table to the couch in the main room and laid down with the icepack resting on your forehead. Max sat on the floor, leaning against the couch and talked with you because Hopper had intrusted them to not let you fall asleep with a concussion and Max was making sure of that.
"So, what's the deal with you and Billy?" She asked randomly. "I haven't seen him act like he does around you since... well, ever."
"What do you mean act the way he does around me?"
Your eyes were closed because the lights in the room were way to bright, but you weren't asleep, not with Max constantly asking you questions.
"He acts... he's happy. He's happy around you, I mean, I have never seen him smile so much and since he met you, he's been less of an asshole. Well, he's still an asshole, I think all brothers are, but he's not angry or mad at the world since he met you."
Her words hit hard and you opened your eyes to look at her, but there was no sign of sarcasm on her face. She was dead serious. But, Billy had pushed you away earlier? He was a total dick and you knew it was because of his father, but it still hurt.
"So, are you dating my stepbrother?" She asked when you didn't say anything.
"No. We're friends... well, I don't know. We kinda got into a fight? I don't even know if it was a fight, but yeah, he probably doesn't want to see me anymore." You admitted, but Max instantly shook her head.
"That's total bull."
"What?"
"He likes you. And as stupid as my brother is, he wouldn't let a stupid fight get between you guys." Max insisted and you smiled softly at her determination.
"Y/N? I need some backup in here. These little shits want to go into the tunnels and draw the Demo-dogs to them." Steve's voice suddenly called from the other room.
"The fuck would they want to do that for?" You grunted, swinging your feet off the couch.
Max got to her feet as well and the two you joined the others who were in a heated debate about distracting the Demo-dogs so El could close the gate.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, lower the volume, my head is spinning." You instructed and the kids all instantly shut up and sent you an apologetic look. "Thank you. Now, listen to Steve. We are not letting you go into those tunnels."
"But we can't do nothing!" Mike shouted causing you to wince and he instantly lowered his voice and pointed at the drawing on the wall. "This is where the Chief dug his hole. This is our way into the tunnels and this, right here. This is like a hub. So, you got all the tunnels feeding in here. Maybe if we set this on fire-"
"Oh, yeah? That's a no." Steve said, cutting him off.
"The Mind Flayer would call away his army." Dustin said, ignoring Steve all together.
"They'd all come to stop us." Lucas added.
"We circle back to the exit and by the time they realise we're gone-" Mike continued to say.
"Hey! Hey! Hey! This is not happening." Steve shouted, clapping his hands and drawing their attention to him.
"But-"
"No, no, no, no. No buts. I promised I'd keep you shitheads safe and that's exactly what I plan on doing."
"Listen to him. This plan is a suicide mission, okay? El and the Chief can handle it." You said, backing him up before the familiar sound of a car engine revving came from outside. "Wait, is that..."
Max was already rushing to the window, recognising that car from anywhere.
"It's my brother. He can't know I'm here. He'll kill me."
"Shit." You sighed, leaning against the wall.
The last thing you wanted to do was talk to Billy after how the two of you ended things and especially not with your head hurting the way it was.
Steve must have noticed because he began walking towards the door and saying that he would get rid of Billy before he stepped out the front, closing the door behind himself.
"Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?"
"Yeah, it's me. Don't cream your pants." You heard Steve reply before he stepped off the front porch and you couldn't hear them talking anymore, so you retreated back to the kitchen to get some more ice before realising that everything had been removed from the fridge and freezer and replaced by the Demo-dog. Perfect.
A few seconds later, the front door slammed opened and you quickly looked out the kitchen window to find Steve now lying flat on his back by the Camaro. Shit.
"Well, well, well, Lucas Sinclair. What a surprise." Billy's voice said from inside the house. "I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max."
"Billy, go away." She responded.
You rushed out the kitchen to find him standing in front of Max and Lucas, his shoulders tense and you knew he was angry. He just got hit by his father because Max had runaway on his watch, of course he was going to be angry.
"I was going to take her home." You called out, announcing your presence.
Billy spun around quicker than you thought possible, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion before he saw the dried blood on the side of your face and butterfly bandages on your forehead.
He rushed over to you in an instant, his hand cupping the side of your face as he gently tilted your head to the side so he could see the damage properly.
"I'm okay. Billy. Seriously, I'm okay." You whispered.
"You don't look okay. The fuck happened? Why are you here? Why is Max here with these boys and Harrington?" Billy questioned, not taking his eyes off the cut. "That nearly needs stiches."
"It's fine." You reassured, but it was clear he didn't believe you.
Steve rushed back into the house, breathing heavily as his panicked eyes searched the room before they landed on you and Billy and he instantly relaxed.
"Hey, man, listen-"
Steve didn't get to finish whatever he was saying as he gently grabbed Billy's shoulder which was a bad idea because a split second later, he turned around and slammed his fist into the side of Steve's face.
The guy stumbled back at step, not expecting the hit, but quickly recovered and punched back just as hard.
Billy grunted when Steve's fist hit his nose, blood instantly starting to fall from it. To your surprise, Billy began to laugh almost hysterically as he stood up straight and faced Steve.
"Looks like you got some fire in you after all, huh? I've been waiting to meet this King Steve that everybody's been telling me so much about."
"Get out." Steve ordered, pushing Billy's chest firmly.
Billy let himself be pushed back as he stared at Steve, but you didn't miss how his hand tightened into a fist by his side and you knew what was about to happen. This was not going to end well.
-
Next Chapter
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Posting this because I think more than just @concealeddarkness13 and I should suffer from this.
"Could I watch?" It's meant to be humorous, but there's still the woven thread of anger and pain there. He sighed and sank to the floor as close to Chess as he thought safe. "It wouldn't stop them though. As good as it might feel in the moment, as much as you'll wish to do it over again afterwards, it doesn't stop the memories."
Icy cold darkness dragging him down down down. Cruel eyes and laughter singing with the clash of steel and shouted spells. Hand crushing his throat. Abomination abomination abomination.
"Did I ever tell you how I learned I would revive no matter what happened to me, and that I was bound to my promises?" His own voice asked, dragging him back to the present. "The first time I killed for no other reason than revenge?"
Tears stained her face as she looked up at him. "What happened?" she whispered, but in the dark and ruined temple, it echoed in his ears. Had anyone asked him that before these past few months?
"The ship I sailed on, my home, my first family, was attacked by another crew, searching for something or other. They killed some of us, and in the scuffle, slit my throat."
Six of them. Six members of their crew had died in that fight alone. Elian, Kira, Nikolas, Adalea, Dale, Erik. Their blank faces still stared at him in the night, just as accusatory as the others. For what happened after, or for him having survived it?
"I of course, only choked up the blood and tried to fight back. Swore to kill them and they threw me into the sea. Where I drowned. I tracked them down, alone, stupidly. Got myself captured for it. They discovered that the water--the water scared me and drowned me over and over and over again, calling me an abomination. I tried to run but the mere attempt to leave them alive burned deep within in my veins and forced my hands until I stopped fighting."
How long had that been? Days? Weeks perhaps? Of failed escapes and deaths he'd lost track of.
"And I didn't regret a moment of killing them, I relished in spilling their blood, staining their home with it like they had mine, making them suffer, alive long enough for me to ensure they choked on the water as well in the end, after watching me destroy everything else."
Their screams and choked breaths echoed in his ears even now, and it twisted his face into a cruel smile.
Then he sighed, his hand rubbing his throat at the ghost of salt and blood. "But in the end, the sea, the place I had thought my home, my freedom, still haunts me to this day, I still wake thinking brine is filling my lungs as I stare into their cruel eyes." He looked up at her finally with a smile that had lost it's edges. "Mind you, their blood and screams were still a rather beautiful offering, of course."
He didn't regret what he had done after all. Would have done it again and again if given the chance.
The only thing he would ever regret was what it cost him in the end.
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Power Play
Book: Open Heart, Book 2
Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks)
Rating: Explicit
Warning: 🔥NSFW, 18+ Only, contains sexual content
Category: Fluff, Smut
Word count: 2.9K
Prompt/Summary: Fed up with some of Ethan’s catty and manipulative admirers, Sawyer tries to beat them at their own game.
A/N: Inspired by this ask and the follow up request from @annfg8 for a jealous Sawyer fic. This takes place shortly after the softball game kiss.
Even Ethan was on board when June suggested they present at the conference and bring some much needed attention to Edenbrook. The event coordinators were excited to promote the renowned diagnostics team as the headliners. As such, the team was asked to be part of a moderated panel discussion that morning, followed by Q&A breakout sessions throughout the afternoon.
In between sessions, Sawyer began to notice just how many admirers sought the attention of the famed Dr. Ethan Ramsey. Most of them women, with an air of sophistication about them in both appearance and accomplishment. They stood before him in their classy sheath dresses and power pantsuits, accessorized with expensive jewelry, designer shoes, and handbags that cost more than her rent. She heard snippets of their conversations with mentions of groundbreaking research, articles published in prestigious medical journals, keynote presentations, and AMA awards. Sawyer also observed the flirtatious posturing. How they leaned in, tilted their heads, subtly touched his arms and shoulders, and on occasion even flashed their eyebrows.
No longer able to stomach the view, Sawyer escaped to the restroom for a moment to herself. Locking herself into a stall, she heard the click-clack of high heels as two women entered.
“I would let that man do absolutely anything to me. An-y-thing. And from what I’ve heard, he’s currently available,” the woman sang, fixing her hair in the mirror.
Applying a fresh coat of lipstick, the other laughed, “Ha, good luck. He’s been eye fucking that protégé of his all day.”
“Please. Ethan Ramsey is a man of refined taste. He dated Harper Emery for fucks sake.”
“Let’s go find Hirata and get the scoop.”
Red hot anger crept up her neck as Sawyer waited for the coast to clear. As she moved to wash her hands, a poised red-head joined her at the sinks.
“Ignore them.”
“Pardon?” Sawyer asked, making eye contact through the mirror.
“You’re Dr. Brooks from Edenbrook. Sawyer is it?” she pumped soap from a dispenser. “I’m Kellie. Kellie Wicker. I’m in Oncology over at Brigham. I’m a friend of Ethan and Harper’s.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Sawyer greeted cautiously.
Repeating the advice, “Just ignore them. Sadly, a good majority of the women in attendance only come to these conferences to meet men. And those bitches are notorious for coming in and marking their territory.” Drying her hands she added, “As if they have any chance with Ethan Ramsey either.” Her snicker echoed in the tiled room.
Unclear whether it was meant to be a dig, the word “either” didn’t get past Sawyer, who shook the excess water from her hands and reached for a paper towel.
Tucking her copper strands behind an ear, Kellie continued, “If it’s any consolation, I can tell Ethan respects you. He’s a very proud mentor, and as he put it when we spoke earlier, he thinks you have tremendous potential.”
“Thank you. Dr. Ramsey’s been a great teacher. I’m incredibly lucky to have the opportunity to work with him, as well as Dr. Hirata and Dr. Mirani.”
“Lucky indeed,” Dr. Wicker concurred. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Sawyer. I look forward to seeing you at the reception later,” she offered, turning on her heel to leave.
“Sorry, can I ask you a quick question? How fancy is this event tonight? I packed a couple different dresses but–”
“Oh…oh, it’s not fancy at all,” Kellie paused with one foot out the door, “Business professional, dear.”
“Glad I asked. Thanks.”
Sawyer returned to the lobby where she found Baz obnoxiously flagging her down. “Sawyer, you’ve got a fan seeking an autograph,” he pointed to the mystery man.
As she rolled her eyes, the man turned around and Sawyer squealed with excitement. “Ben! What are you doing here?”
“Brooksie! Wow, Boston looks good on you, honey. Aside from the fact that you are in desperate need of a spray tan,” he teased.
She playfully swatted at him as he pulled her off to the side to chat.
Having missed the initial exchange, Ethan entered the lobby, his eyes immediately drawn to the man hovering over what he wished he could publicly claim as his own.
From what he could ascertain, the flamboyant doctor was someone she knew from Los Angeles. Ben personified the Beverly Hills doctor stereotype right down to his sleek Armani suit and shiny Prada shoes. If Ethan had to guess, he was most likely a plastic surgeon.
As Ben rubbed his hand up and down Sawyer’s arm, Ethan’s muscles tensed. And when Ben pulled her into a hug and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, Ethan gritted his teeth. Swiftly gathering his belongings, he announced to Baz that he was heading back to his hotel room. With urgent steps he exited the conference center, ignoring those who still wished to win him over with favors and flattery.
Agreeing to share a drink with Ben later at the reception, Sawyer tried to catch up to Ethan.
He was already several steps down the hall of their floor, when the second elevator chimed behind him.
Not wanting to disturb any hotel guests by shouting, Sawyer jogged to his side placing her hand on his lower back to get his attention. “Hey.” The thrill of her touch reduced his blood pressure just slightly.
Catching her breath, “I feel like I haven’t talked to you all day. How are you?”
“Fine,” his tone curt.
“That was quite an impressive following I witnessed down there today. I mean, I saw a bit of it in Miami, but those were mostly pharma execs,” she tried gauging his mood, “I bet you’re glad to finally have some time to yourself.”
“Yes, I am,” he fished for the keycard in his pocket.
“Ah, the downside of fame,” she teased.
A hint of irritation in his voice, “It looked as though you had plenty of your own admirers.”
With a breathy chuckle, “The only people who approached me wanted to know what you were like,” she stated honestly.
“Hmph. Well, this is me. If you’ll excuse me, I have a couple calls to return.”
Disappointed there was no suggestion of going to the reception together, Sawyer dug into her purse in search of her own room key. “Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you downstairs later,” she said as Ethan entered his room and closed the door. The interaction, or lack thereof, only fueled the festering feelings of insecurity.
A couple hours later, Sawyer approached the entrance to the hotel lounge. Stopping short, she noticed how the other men and women entering the room wore formal cocktail attire. Then sashaying across the hallway in a sequined minidress, Kellie glanced to her right. She scanned Sawyer from head to toe and with a quiet but villainous laugh she walked on triumphantly. As the two-faced ginger crossed over the threshold, Sawyer heard her phony voice ring out. “Ethan. Hello handsome. Come, have a drink with me.”
Turning one hundred and eighty degrees, Sawyer retraced the steps back to her room, all the way debating whether to even return. And if she decided to return to that hyena’s den, she wondered which of the dresses in her suitcase she should change into.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror in her nicest black pantsuit, Sawyer made the decision to fight fire with fire. She thought to herself, she may not be as polished and accomplished as the Harper Emery types who paraded around downstairs, but she did have certain assets that would set her apart from the pack. And she wasn’t afraid to use them.
Shrugging her suit jacket off, Sawyer lifted the ivory silk tank top over her head and removed her bra. She carefully smoothed her wavy hair into a sleek bun and wiped the neutral colored lipstick away, replacing it with a bold shade of red. Her modest jewelry was traded for a sparkly necklace, one that would be sure to draw attention to the aforementioned assets. Tugging her jacket back on, she fastened the only two buttons located at her waist. Sawyer turned from side to side making sure she wasn’t giving too much away, and when she was satisfied, she grabbed her clutch and made her way back down to the reception.
Meanwhile downstairs, Ethan stood at a high table sipping his whiskey neat as Kellie droned on about her recent hormone replacement study. He swept the room often, shifting his eyes to the doorway every time someone entered.
Sawyer was a fairly punctual person. With the reception well underway, Ethan’s concern for her grew. His mind raced with all sorts of theories. The worst was that she might be off with Dr. 90210, who was also nowhere in sight.
Finally revealing her true intentions, Kellie changed the subject. “I ran into Harper a while back. She mentioned that you two were no longer together.”
“We are not. It was time to move on.”
“Are you seeing anyone new?”
Ethan didn’t answer. Instead he shook his head, not in reply but in annoyance, and took a swig of his drink.
“Come on, Ethan. We’ve been dancing around each other for years now. Let’s have some fun tonight,” she pawed at his arm.
As soon as the words left her mouth, Sawyer stepped into the cocktail bar, stealing the attention from many conversations. After briefly surveying the room, her confident form glided in his direction. Ethan chewed the inside of his bottom lip to keep his mouth from falling open. But there was little to be done to stop his eyes from roaming her exposed chest. Her bare breasts taunted him, only the lapels of her suit jacket hiding the most sensitive parts. Sawyer looked from him, to his company, and back again. “Dr. Ramsey,” she acknowledged with a nod as she sauntered past.
“There she is!” Baz shouted as Sawyer approached the bar table where he and June shared drinks. “Whoa, step aside, Beyonce. Sawyer Brooks is the one slaying now.”
After rolling her eyes at his ridiculousness, Sawyer looked around taking in the overall atmosphere, but June easily saw through the farce. Psychoanalyzing, she could tell Sawyer searched for reaction from Ethan and his current companion.
“That is quite the statement you are making, Sawyer. Who exactly is the intended audience?”
Sawyer snapped her head to June, finding a smug expression on her face.
A few tables away, Kellie followed Ethan’s eyes as they tracked Sawyer across the room. Trying to regain his attention, she ran the lapel of his jacket through her fingers, “So, what do you say?”
He looked to the table where his colleagues stood. “Please excuse me. I need to touch base with my team,” he said, grabbing his drink and backing away.
“Good evening,” Ethan met the table, coming to stand at Sawyer’s side.
“Hey, Boss!” Baz greeted in return. “So, how’d you all think it went today?”
June spoke, “I’d say ‘mission accomplished.’ I was approached by an editor from the NEJM who wants to write a feature about the team. And speaking of…” spotting the man, she followed him to the bar.
So that only she could hear, Ethan leaned close to Sawyer’s ear. "You seem to be missing something.”
“If you mean a stiff drink, then yes, I was hoping to fix that.”
His eyes flashed quickly to the fleshy mound peeking out from underneath her suit coat. “Not what I was referring to,” he straightened, “but allow me to remedy the drink issue. I could use another myself. Be right back.”
Baz picked up the conversation asking Sawyer what she had thought about the conference, but was suddenly distracted with a passerby. “Scotty?! Scott Briscoe, is that you? Excuse me, Sawyer,” he apologized, leaving to reunite with his old college pal.
As Ethan waited at the bar for their drinks, he looked back to Sawyer who now stood alone at the table. While it pleased him to find her staring back, he was not thrilled to see men at nearby tables eyeing her as well.
A moment later, Ethan placed a drink in front of her and Sawyer initiated a familiar game of people-watching. As they searched for their next targets, Ethan spotted Ben schmoozing at a table in the far corner of the room. At the same time, Kellie stood nearby glaring at Sawyer.
Ethan jutted his chin toward an exit that led outdoors. “Care to join me for some fresh air?”
“God, yes,” she sighed with relief.
They threw back the rest of their drinks and made their way outside, finding a long and windy path that curved around to an overlook of the ocean.
“So, what’s with the bold look tonight?”
She shook her head. “It’s actually quite embarrassing and pathetic really.”
“What is?”
Taking a deep breath, Sawyer proceeded to tell him about the gossiping women and Kellie’s “kindness.”
“So, anyway…I…I guess I was just feeling a bit insecure and jealous watching these women hang on you all day. And after getting hoodwinked by that Kellie woman, I decided I could either hide in my room all night or play the game using my advantages.”
“Which are?” he was curious.
“That I’m younger and hotter,” she stated proudly, earning a laugh from Ethan.
As they continued down the path, Ethan frequently glanced over at Sawyer trying to understand the root of her jealousy. How could she have any doubt that he only had eyes for her? But he already knew the answer to that question. The uncertainty of their situation was of his own making.
“You know there’s no reason to be jealous, right?”
When she barely acknowledged him, he reached for her hand, stopping them in their tracks. “Hey. I know I’ve spent the last several months confusing you. And I’m genuinely sorry, Sawyer. But whether it’s a crowded room or a busy hallway at work, my eyes are always and only searching for you,” he affirmed. “You stole my attention in that waiting room last year and have had it ever since,” pulling her into his arms, “I’m all yours.”
Sawyer squeezed her arms tight around Ethan’s torso, thankful for the confirmation.
After a comforting moment, Ethan pulled back to admire, “I wish I could tell you that jealousy looks terrible on you…but fuck, Sawyer…this sexy power play of yours is a major turn on.” His fiery blue eyes burned right through her, causing Sawyer to shiver.
“Cold?”
“It is a bit drafty,” she giggled.
“Let me try and warm you up.”
Ethan turned her away from him, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her snug to his chest. Grazing his lips past her ear, she felt the warmth of his breath before he began placing heated open mouth kisses down the column of her neck. With his free hand, he caressed her goose-pimpled skin from neck to navel, his fingers slipping through the open door of her jacket. He traced around her breast before cupping it with his large palm, kneading tenderly. Not wanting to be neglectful, Ethan gave equal attention to her other side.
Sawyer reached behind, hands holding his hips close, needing to feel more of his hardened length against her ass. “Kiss me,” she urged, tilting her head back.
Obeying, he captured her lips in a hungry kiss, savoring the taste that he had craved every day since Miami. He worked to unbutton her jacket as Sawyer nipped along his jawline. Twisting in his arms, she framed his face and traced her tongue across his lips enticing him to open to her again.
Ethan drove himself into her until she bumped into the wooden railing. Lifting her onto the top rail, he grasped Sawyer’s backside, anchoring his hands firmly to her ass cheeks to prevent a backward fall. A convenient gust of ocean breeze pushed a flap of her unfastened jacket open. And taking advantage, Ethan buried his head into her chest licking and sucking her peaked nipple.
Sawyer’s gasps and moans were visible in the cool night air.
“Mmm…Sawyer,” he mumbled against her silky flesh, “...tell me you’re mine too.”
Dragging him up to eye level, she locked her legs around his waist and slipped her hand between their bodies, eliciting a gratifying groan. Lips barely brushing his, she massaged his erection and purred, “I’m yours, Ethan. Only yours.” Punctuating her declaration, she deepened the kiss.
Pulling back for air, Ethan tilted his head upward and closed his eyes, enjoying the increased pressure and speed of her ministrations. When suddenly he felt a drop of moisture smack his face. Sawyer felt it too on her naked chest. They both looked to the sky, then to each other, bringing their foreheads together as they accepted their defeat against mother nature.
“C’mon, we should get you covered up and back inside before hypothermia sets in,” Ethan helped guide her feet back to the ground.
After adjusting their clothing and making sure the twins were safely tucked back in, Ethan took her hand in his.
As they walked back to the hotel entrance, Sawyer leaned into him. “Ethan, has there ever been a time when you were jealous over me?”
Without hesitation, he answered truthfully. “Yes. Many times.”
“Really?”
“Rookie, I asked you to come out here with me because I saw Doc Hollywood walk into the lounge…and I didn’t want to share.”
“Doc Hollywood?” she looked up in question.
“The handsy blonde guy you were hugging earlier at the conference center.”
With an amused laugh, “Ben? You were jealous of Ben?”
“Why’s that funny? How do you know him?”
“His husband is my good friend from Caltech. I was in their wedding party.”
“Oh,” he said, cheeks flushing red. “Well, either way…I still wanted you all to myself.”
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