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rise-my-angel · 2 years ago

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Heart of the Great Wolf

4 - Standing Behind a Betrayal

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

Length: 13.5k

Warnings: Angst/hurt comfort, bodily injury, implied reference to sexual assault, implied reference to child murder, character death, mild description of gory wounds, blood and violence, imprisonment, talk of execution, slow burn, slight canon divergence

Notes: We won't be in Kings Landing forever but the action safe to say is about to pick up. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

So much had to be left out, the bare bones of what occurred was the only thing you could risk sending to Winterfell. You had sat in his office writing to Robb about the incident in the street, but your eyes had routinely drifted to the tome still sat on the desk. It wasn’t just Jaime Lannister that bothered you, it was everything here. This city, the mystery, and how left in the dark you were despite the whispers all around you.

While investigating one thing, another issue had come to Eddard Stark’s feet before him leaving him weak, injured, and asleep in bed as you leaned back in the chair. Many times you’d look at him, then eye the book and distract from something else. More then once you looked over the words you’d read many times, descriptions of the Baratheon family which all looked and sounded the same. What had been in here that Jon Arryn was looking for, why did King Robert’s bastard children have something to do with it?

That last time, your eyes had drifted to the passage of his true born children, their golden heads did little to describe what an atrocity the eldest was. The passage stuck out to you, it did that night as you slept, and even louder in your mind as you went that next morning to confront Renly.

“I don’t see why you care so much, you think what the realm needs is one more monarch screeching about taking the throne?” You had whipped around at him, your eyes wide and lips parted in surprise when he seemed to notice the mistake.

Opening and closing his mouth, he failed to back up in time before you jumped. “One more?” As he looked away, you took a step forward and still he refused to meet your eye. “There’s no justice in punishing for a crime they haven’t committed, you know that.”

Swallowing, Renly had shrugged without committing much to the beleivability of his casualness. It was a mask that he was getting worse at playing every day it felt. “There are still people who think Roberts a usurper.” He was avoiding his own casualness in his support of murdering the remaining Targaeyans.

Looking to the side with a slight eye roll, you crossed your arms over your chest. “Yes, his name is Viserys Targaryean and he is half way across the world, Renly. Even if he managed to land here who is going to support him? How down trodden do you think the people are that they would welcome the son of the mad king in with open arms after over twenty years of Robert keeping the peace?”

The way he looked at you hit something that was unsettling. It was the eyes you’d seen in all three of the elder brothers, it was the face that was a mirror to the one you had seen in the boy, Gendry. It was the hair that all of you held, the hair on Shireen you’d sit behind her and carefully brush out in the early mornings.

His words were tough, forced out through a somewhat clenched jaw. “Think, my dear niece. Which one of us is really the one who doesn’t belong?” He at that moment expected no answer, immediately moving around the room to change subjects. “Anyways, there’s no chance you could go speak to him and convince him to not bring me hunting?”

Leaning against the wall, you shrugged. “I don’t see what about it has you complaining so much.”

Huffing, he turned to you with an incredulous look. “You’ve never hunted with Robert. I’m in for two weeks at the bare minimum of being dragged across the kingswood as he drinks, boasts endlessly about his own kills while he complains that I haven’t done enough myself.”

“By enough, you mean any?” He glared at your smirking face. “It’s hunting, Renly he’s not shipping you off the war.”

Gathering his things, he passed you by. “I’d take war over Roberts boars and hunting whores any day, or is it the other way around?” Securing the leather around his chest he looked at you with a sigh. “So, do I look the part?”

Narrowing your eyes, you barley looked him over. “One hunting trip won’t kill you, stop complaining and go already.” Leaving with him as he closed his door, you two walked down the halls towards the King’s own quarters. Renly fussing over the attire all the way, you were not truly sure if it was hunting in general he wasn’t pleased do be doing, or if it was just the fact that he was doing it with Robert.

Not that he would be pleased with joining your father either. Where Renly preferred luxury, and Robert preferred loud and charging, your father’s hunts were out of necessity. Find food, move quiet and be silent. No hunting party, no drinks not that of water, and wasting no time in trying to kill such big game for glory. There was no great feast for just that of the hunt either, spending more luxury just to celebrate a clean kill was to waste it on those who didn’t need it.

Considering the state of Flea Bottom, King Robert certainly was hunting just to find any glory in his rage rather then for practicality. You had hunted before, but certainly not with the King and you could sympathize with how little the idea appealed to you.

Coming upon the hallway, you nodded towards Ser Barristan, standing straight and at the ready as he greeted the ever growing morose Renly. He walked in first, being accosted by his brother loudly about no other way to prove your salt as a man.

Ser Barristan stepping forward, a small smile on your lips as he greeted you. “Do you know how long his grace intends to be out there?” Saying he didn’t, you sighed as shoulders deflated a bit. Voice lowering as you stepped forward. “I’m not sure who he’s trying to take his anger out on with this trip, the Targaryean girl or Lord Stark.”

Tilting his head as one side of his mouth raised slightly, he lowered his head closer to yours. “His Grace has a misguided tendency to focus on the wrong things when things get heated.” You both glanced at the door, hearing something between the King and his squire causing Ser Barristan to pull you a step away with a hand on your upper arm. “Forgive me, my Lady but I sense something else is wrong.”

Arms crossing, you closed your eyes only for as long as you exhaled the increasing race of your heart before standing straight. “I shouldn’t say but,” Looking up, you saw the gentle expression of a man who has never shown even an inkling of the kind of darkness looming in this city. He was a man of honour, and yet unlike Lord Stark this one seemed to have stood the test and remained untouched and as confident as ever. “I’ve known you since I was a girl, and I know you care about the King.”

His smile growing more as it did fond, “I remember his grace hearing the news of your birth. It wasn’t long after he and the Queen lost their first boy. Lord Arryn had to talk him down from jumping on a ship to go to Dragonstone that same day.” They rarely spoke of that first boy, a little black haired boy that fell sick and passed before he had even spoken his first word. “Losing that boy, and having his brother soon after have a healthy baby girl of his own. I think the King saw you as something that could’ve been.”

The King had visited Dragonstone much later before you had been moved with your father to Kings Landing. A strong memory of who at that time, was just Uncle Robert. Your father instilling manners had yet to fully sink in, and that was worsened by the much lighter both in set in mind King. He was still lean enough to snatch you up and fling you around in his arms.

The loud and furious yell having echoed in the small council chamber in those days was only that of playful growling and yelling as he pretended your three year old self was just too strong for him. You had pulled him and Ser Barristan around the cliffs of your home that first day for hours. Talking about this place as if it were the most fascinating place you’d ever seen. When Robert was attending things with his brother, you were left with Ser Barristan.

Even now, two decades later you still could recall the Honourable Knight reaching down and hoisting you in his arms, holding you up so you could look at the sea from a high point. You had gotten sad, saying that you hated your family being so far away. One Uncle in Kings Landing, the other Uncle in Storms End you only had your father and mother at that point. You asked if he ever missed the people he loves, and he smiled. Telling you that he had loved many, even had women who he would’ve loved to marry and be like your family. He had simply told you he is bound by honour to his duty, and that “Love is the death of duty, my little lady.”

Now though, older and more calm in his post you looked at him and hoped that he found solace in such a thought. Your duty wasn’t to pry, it was to listen and obey commands but yet you stood here thinking of those you loved. The King was not a man you recognized anymore, but he once was the Uncle you loved. “I know I likely don’t have to tell this to you, but he’s a danger to himself when he’s like this. He can’t push himself the way he used too, and I think he forgets that.”

Nodding once, his voice was low. “There’s something else you’re not saying.”

Your resolve broke a bit, the genuine concern and care in his face much like that of Lord Stark’s made the information feel like it should be shared. But it had painted a target on three people’s backs so far, one of which is dead, the other left with an injury and forced to remain in the very position he had willingly walked away from. How long would you remain unscathed, how long would anyone else should you be selfish enough to bring them into it?

You both glanced at the open door as the three inside came out. The King followed by a still childishly grumbling Renly, and Lancel Lannister who was as on edge as you’d ever seen him. His long blonde hair swishing as he rushed to keep up. You nodded at Ser Barristan, then at the King who seemed to pause looking at you.

Still, you didn’t recognize him and the little girl by the cliffs once again wished she could have a normal family all together like the smallfolk on the island she had once lived on.

Lord Stark was to act in the King’s place while he was hunting, and it did not miss your notice how he looked so unsuited to that of the Iron Throne, while yet his words, voice, and his very presence in the room felt like a commanding respect that had long not been seen. Lord Baelish sat at one side, his book of increasing debt in his lap to be scribbled away at, normally beside him would be Renly now a seat empty.

On the other sat you, then Lord Varys, then Grand Maester Pycelle all looking out to the people who had travelled all this way to make a plea for help in one matter or the other. Beyond them, was a crowd of guards, knights, a various of lords and dutiful watchers to the side watching the court play out as if it were a spectacle. A spectacle however, was not what you think the farmer before the Lord Hand wanted as he voice croaked and warbled.

“They burned most everything in the Riverlands. Our fields, our granaries, our homes.” The others who had came with looked down to the floor, sullen and broken in spirit. Your eyes sharp and face one could mistaken for an expression of anger, in lieu of the suspicions that wracked your mind. “They took out women, and they took ‘em again. When they was done, they butchered them as if they was animals.”

Why were you seeing blonde hair against dark browns and blacks?

“They covered out children in pitch, and lit them on fire.” The man before the court was trying his best not to cry and you felt a boil inside of you at the dismissive tone to your left of Grand Maester Pycelle, dismissing it as nothing more then the act of brigands.

The farmer spoke louder, an insistence in his voice. “They weren’t thieves, they didn’t steal nothing. They even left something behind, your grace.” Once more, Pycelle sounded on the air of board and uncaring as he corrected the man for using the wrong title.

As he did so, one of the farmers stepped forward, emptying a sack out onto the floor and the sight was that of slimy, reddish fish. Your eyes narrowed as the court murmured and whispered around. Lord Baelish speaking up, “Fish. The sigil of House Tully.” You could hear him lean towards Lord Stark in a whisper that came off as purposely condescending. “Isn’t that your wife’s house, Tully? My Lord Hand?”

Not looking nor addressing him, Lord Stark kept his attention on the farmer. “These men, were they flying a sigil? A banner?”

Shaking his head, “None, your...Hand.” He paused and seemed, distressed, that like when describing the horrors inflicted on his village. “The one who was leading them, taller by a foot then any man I’ve ever met. Saw him cut the blacksmiths son in two, saw him cut the head of a horse with a single swing of his sword.”

That was a sight most in this court had seen first hand, a man so large one would think he had that of giant’s blood if not knowing better. A man who sliced his horse’s head clean off before throwing his sword into the shield of Ser Loras Tyrell.

“You’re describing Ser Gregor Clegane.”

Pycelle arguing why would such a man commit atrocities while being appointed as a Knight. Your heart feeling unsteady thinking of what the King had commanded his own men to organize in murder of an unborn child. Leading you right down a path to the very Knight in question and the whispers of the unrecognizable state of Aegon Targaryean once the murdered infant was presented to the Lannisters.

Lord Baelish spoke, “I’ve heard him called Tywin Lannister’s mad dog. I’m sure you have as well.”

Pycelle spoke slow, trying to work through the scenario. “If the Lannisters were to order attacks on villages under the Kings protection, it would be..”

Staring forward your voice rung loud in the quiet room. “That would be as likely as them attacking the Hand of the King in the streets of the captiol.” Pycelle mumbled to himself, and for just a moment you and Lord Stark shared a look. You both could feel the growing tension the Lannisters seemed to be involving themselves in. Ser Gregor was not a man smart enough to come up with using fish as a message to send on his own, no that was of strategy something which laid with someone higher.

Lord Stark looked back to the people, your eyes left to meet the unchanged cockiness of Lord Baelish before you peeled them back to that of the court. Lord Stark’s voice was full of a sympathy that felt as real as it sounded. “I cannot give you back your homes, or restore your dead to life. But perhaps I can give you justice, in the name of our King. Robert.”

Calling forth Lord Beric Dondarrion, he commanded the assembly of one hundred men to ride to Ser Gregors keep. Standing from the seat, Lord Stark shaking slightly at the pain put in his leg. Much of his muscle relying on the cane by his side but refusing to give an order sat down to the men who stood before him.

“In the Name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhyoynar the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I charge you to bring the King’s justice to the false knight Gregor Clegane and all those who shared in his crimes. I denounce him, and attaint him. I strip him of all ranks and titles, of all lands and holdings, and sentence him to death.”

There was no question, and no waver in Lord Stark’s voice.

The crowd a mix of outraged murmurs and shocked whispers as you stared out to the court. Something in you feeling unsettled at how shocked they seemed to be hearing such a harsh judgment despite the disgust of the actions taken.

Standing up, Grand Master Pycelle’s face had twisted into that of the same kind of outrage you could see on the other highborn lords standing in attendance. “My Lord, this is a drastic action. It would be better to wait for the King’s return.”

“Grand Maester Pycelle,” Just as he had the confidence it died with such conviction in the strength of his voice. Yourself, you glanced forward to Lord Stark and it felt much like your years on Dragonstone watching your father stand before the smallfolk of the island, and the steadfast in his own voice commanding only that of justice and no glammer. “Send a Raven to Casterly Rock. Inform Tywin Lannister that he has been summoned to court to answer for the crimes of his bannerman. He will arrive within the fortnight, or be branded an enemy of the crown and traitor to the realm.”

The air of court was in shock, but you stood up as it was dismissed with no regard for such feelings on the matter. Faces of thank and a heartbreaking plea from the farmers of the Riverlands had been enough for you, not the corrupted care of those with enough as it was. Until it was their homes being burned down, their women being raped, and their children being massacred they cared not.

Only fanfare served this loud court and you couldn’t help but wonder what it was about Kings Landing that felt like it caked you in a grime that made you ashamed for still caring.

Such a man of grime, he had caught you walking through the gardens, leaving the needed quiet a memory of the past despite in desperate need. Your head needed silence, there was to much noise around you to make sense of it all and yet, here was the voice calling you before slinking up to your side. “You’re a hard one to find, Lady Stark.”

Looking forward at the greenery which was vibrant against the summer sun you considered the scenario to put a few more inches in between him and your person but of course it didn’t work. “What is it you want, Lord Baelish?”

“We haven’t spent much time in each others company since you’re return, never had the chance to congratulate you on your marriage.”

Unconvinced you needn’t pretend as if you were to this man of all people. “We aren’t friends, you have no reason to.” He chuckled and without a glance you could see the smug smile on his face that somehow tricked all too many. “Is that all?”

“Just because we aren’t friends, doesn’t mean I can’t have interest in your affairs. Afterall, it must be hard to spend so many years walking free, only to find yourself a wife within a months time.” Passing servants around, you cared not to consider who belonged to which but no doubt as you walked alone with Petyr Baelish, more then one spy had their eye on you. “Duty can be such a taxing thing for a lady.”

The half smile on your lips didn’t come close to reaching your eyes. “I’ve known the Starks far longer then it was my duty to marry them. My husband isn’t a taxing man. I assure you, I have no need for your concern.” Northerners were indeed made of something different it seemed sometimes.

But Lord Baelish leaned in, a whisper that clawed at your ear and made you scowl before the racing of your heart set in. “And what about leaving behind a certain half brother?” You didn’t look at him, in fact it took much of your energy to act as if you didn’t hear him even as he continued. “Such a shame, young love is so lively, and full of passion it would hurt anyone to give that up. Though I feel for the man, I know all too well watching the one you fought for marry off to a strong, more honourable wolf.”

Your jaw clenched, whatever eyes had found you over the years were whispering back to many sources it felt like. Nothing was a secret in this den of liars and spies. “I imagine you do, Lord Baelish. I couldn’t think of what it must feel like to watch it happen twice. Being left behind like that must leave one with a scar or two.”

His hands clasped together, unseen by your avoiding ones there was a darker flash in his eyes that spoke of something deeply kept down inside before he covered it with an aloofness. “Tell me, my lady is this something you wish to keep a secret?”

Stopping, you whipped around in place with a fiery anger in your eyes and a knowing smile that had seen it all coming. “If you are trying to say something, Lord Baelish, have the courage to just say it rather then play word games with me.”

“I’m simply wondering where your allegiance lies.”

Stepping closer to him, you raised your eyebrows as your heart felt as angry as your mind did. “My allegiance, Lord Baelish is with the one I swore a vow too. Perhaps it’s beacuse you are awfully unfamiliar with the practices of marriage, but when a woman swears her love and fealty to that of her husband it isn’t a vow to be broken. No matter what an outside opinion might say.”

His games were transparent. An attempt to pull back the words you say by paring them against something personal that eats at you as a person. He couldn’t care less about your marriage, or the left behind love with dark curls vowed at the end of world. Lord Baelish was asking you, where do you stand when such a vow is tested, and where do you lay when it all drops.

Inhaling, you curbed the anger. Looking at him without the spite in your heart. “Tell me, Lord Baelish. If your loyalty was tested, where exactly would you end up? Which side does your pendulum swing when the time comes?”

He smiled. So close you could feel his breath as he leaned down to you. “I wish you and Robb Stark a long, happy life together, my dear. Many years, with many beautiful children. Those Starks certainly have such a distinct look don’t they. I do hope you get to return to him soon. You suit our summer heats far less then you do Snow.”

It shouldn’t bother you, with anyone else you suspect it wouldn’t. But you couldn’t help but feel as if he was trying to scare you into something that you didn’t yet even see. You sat alone at the gardens for quite a while after that. The serene quiet leaving you alone as the sky draped down around you in an orange tone.

Many passed by, numerous people you’ve never seen and all of them caring of your presence as you did theirs, being none. Everyone seemed draped in rich fabrics, bright colours, hair shining in the sunlight as the ladies dressed high and ornate around or above their heads. Browns, and reds, many shades of black and yellows-

“She had yellow hair.” That’s what the boy, Gendry, had said about his mother. His eyes like Roberts a striking green, a strong face that ran through all the men in the family and just like his father, his uncles, even with your mothers lighter hair you and Shireen both held dark hair that also sat on Gendrys own head.

It was so easy to see Robert in the boys face. It was easy to see Stannis in yours and Shireens. The ones with Baratheon blood rang strong. Your mothers house that of Florent looked as if she didn’t exist in your appearance.

The Starks weren’t the only ones whose traits ran strong, and then the image of gold against brown slammed you in the face. You looked like Stannis, you looked like Robert and Renly. Even the bastards of your Uncle, Barra looked like Shireen, Gendry could be your brother.

But he wasn’t. He was your cousin. A cousin who looked just like you, and yet...

Your stomach turned in an instant. Were you not sitting already you’d have fallen over. The black haired child that Robert and Cersei had lost, and yet each child after with a golden head.

You could hear Grand Maester Pycelle’s words in your head, telling you that of Jon Arryn’s last words repeating. “The seed is strong.”

It was. Baratheon seed ran strong through all who were born from it, except for three. None of you with mothers of light hair had anything close to it. You were all taken by your fathers in appearance.

You had never seen anything of Robert in Joffery. And you never would. You could see only two people in your royal cousins looks, and it had you sick of being out alone in the sun. It had you sick at the mere thought, and suddenly you understood why Jon Arryn was no longer here.

You knew the truth that had your own father, that had Lord Stannis, abandon his duty in Kings Landing.

Arya had accosted you with questions as soon as you walked in. Your mind screaming at you you only caught onto her last. “Are you coming back with us?” She had to call your name just to get you to look at her. There was worry all over her face, and felt a great deal of struggle to mask yours.

“I don’t know. I need to speak to your father.” Trying to pass her by, she circled around with a furrow in her brow to block your path. “Arya-”

“No. You can’t stay here.” Something in her was upset, and you knew the weight of her own father’s injuries hurt her deeply inside. She had been pale when she came into his room for the first time once he was brought back, leg still bloody. Swallowing it down, she shook her head. “You married Robb, which mean’s you’re my sister, and we don’t leave our family behind.”

So there was a bit more to it, wasn’t there?

Inhaling deeply, you willed your racing nerves to ease down. Running a hand down her hair, it hit you in the chest at how easily she looked to you like that already. Like another sibling, who she didn’t want to leave behind.

Leave behind. That was a term that seemed to haunt you now. It wasn’t just leaving you in Kings Landing she was seeing. Arya would be going back to Winterfell, knowing one of them wouldn’t be there anymore. The one she wanted to be there the most. “Let me talk to your father, okay? It’s- things are complicated. There are things I need to sort out before I know if I’m going to Winterfell.”

“You better. Or me and Robb will come down here ourselves and drag you back home.” Pushing her gently to her room, you told her to pack her things.

Knocking at Lord Stark’s door, he hesitated before calling you to enter. Sat at his desk, the tome open in front of him, you both looked to the other with a horror wide in your eyes. He put it together as you had, as Jon Arryn had, as Stannis had. The truth was there and it couldn’t be forgotten.

Words caught in both your throats, your voice shook as it spoke up. “Joffery’s almost seventeen, how long have they, why would-”

“Lysa had wrote to Cat that the Lannisters murdered Jon Arryn. They murder him just as he finds out, then what? A month later, my boy falls from a window and an assassin is sent to murder him in his sleep all after the same Lannisters come into my home?”

There was pain in his voice, pain and an anger that sat so close to the surface for what they had done, tried to do. You pushed off the door, coming to sit in the chair across the desk. “Robb wrote saying Bran had no memory of it. He doesn’t remember falling, or any of it. But maybe that wasn’t good enough for what he saw, was it.”

As his jaw clenched, he looked at the drawer you knew the blade still sat in. “Cat and Robb think he was pushed. And now we know why.”

What other Lannister secret had had such lethal results before Bran came upon it. Ones that would be killed for? You didn’t imagine what could be worse, and imagining the truth at all felt unseemly.

“Robert needs to know too.”

Eyes widening, you looked extremely doubtful. “You know what he’ll do if you tell him.”

He shook his head, “He needs to be told. If he has no true born sons he needs to know about it, he needs to know what his own wife has done behind his back for twenty years.” But all you could see was the rage in his eyes at the shadow of an unborn child across the Narrow Sea. “Robert-”

“Is not the man you once knew.” Your teeth clenched in your mouth as you leaned forward resting your forehead in your palms before sitting back up with a loud huff. “He finds out the kids he’s been raising for sixteen years are Jaime’s-”

You didn’t finish the sentence, and Lord Stark didn’t finish it for you either. The quiet of the night poured in from the open balcony and whooshed between the two of you as it mocked you for how long it took to find this out. “This is why your father pushed to marry you and Robb.”

Looking at him, your arms now crossed over your stomach with too much behind your eyes.

“He and Jon Arryn found out, and he knows it makes him Robert’s true heir.”

Robert had insisted on the marriage between Joffery and Sansa, to combine the Crowns houses to that of the needed ally of the North. Your father found out the Queens secret, and suddenly that connection of Houses no longer would even exist. If Stannis was the heir, you were his. Which means he would need a new ally ship secured in the North.

At least you were a slightly better candidate as a wife to Robb then Joffery would be husband to Sansa.

“I’ll speak to the Queen in the morning. Tell her to leave the city with her children before Robert returns.”

It was a bad idea, but one that you couldn’t deter him from. This truth was about to come out, and the only fighting chance to save her children from Robert’s wrath was to confront her about it. Tommen and Myrcella were good, innocent kids. They had done less then nothing to deserve it, much like the sickening thought of two other children who didn’t deserve the end they had solely for who their own blood was.

That wasn’t Robert’s doing, but he paid no respects and sung no songs for Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryean. Perhaps this version of your Uncle you saw now wasn’t new. Just hiding under the surface.

You hated the thought of who else hid themselves so well under a veil for so long.

It all fell apart, and you knew this attempt to handle it delicately was over.

A boar, Ser Barristan had said. Blood soaking the white of his cloak and a pain in his face that blamed nothing but himself. The King had demanded everyone step back and let him handle the boar as it skewered him as he did it. Standing by the window, to the side of you was the Queen herself as Joffery sat on the bed.

You weren’t sure you ever saw this look on your cousins face. Not often did he feel something in the same devastating way pain hit the rest, but it hurt something inside the kid and you weren’t heartless to the loss. You’ve never lost your father, but you were about to your Uncle.

As a kid, maybe he would’ve had words for you. Something to say, memories to leave on a good note with. But now, all the dying Robert saw as he looked at you was the splitting image of the Stannis. Your face of steel and posture straight and giving little if anything, away. You gave less away then Cersei did, something human remained in her eyes but it swam with a worry that refused to give as Lord Stark was brought in.

Speaking weak, like each breathe took more life out of him as he tried giving anything to Joffery, but fell short of bringing himself to care like one. “I was never meant to be a father.” Faces in your mind, one young, one your age and yet none of those were really his children either you supposed. “Go on, you don’t want to see me like this.”

Joffery nodded as he pulled himself together before quickly leaving the room without another word to anyone. He was still a child, and that left part of you to still feel for his pain.

Lord Stark stood looking at him like you had when you walked in. This death would be none others fault then Robert’s stubbornness. Smiling at his old Northern friend who approached, it left you and Cersei in the background as she glanced at you. Only to find you already watching her carefully. The mark on her cheek, you hadn’t noticed until now.

Eyes narrowing at the sight, your flickered over to the dying King with a clenched jaw. Was he always this man or did this place turn him into such?

“Too much wine, missed my thrust.” Pulling the sheet back was a gruesome gouge in his side, parts of him out in chunks as it soaked red. “It stinks. It stinks like death, don’t think I can’t smell it.” Of all the things to take out a once strong warrior, it was the very things which led him to fail as a King. He was never meant to be a father, but he was never meant to be a King either.

Some men were leaders outside of war, Robert was not.

“I paid the bastard back, Ned. I drove my knife right through his brain, you ask them if I didn’t.” He was a fool, he would die not even knowing the shambles his Kingdom was at risk of falling apart to. “I want the funeral feast to be the biggest the Kingdoms ever seen. And I want everyone to taste the boat that got me.”

Once more, you and Cersei looked the other. You read the guilty worry in her, and you were confident she could see the known truth right back and it only unsettled her more. Robert got himself killed at either the best or worst possible time. And it all depended on one man.

“Now leave us. The lot of you. I need to talk to Ned.”

“Robert, my sweet-”

No one bought it and Robert had little strength left to pretend as if he cared. “Out, all of you.”

Filing out, you paid no attention to the soon to be widow. Renly stood nearby with blood on him as well looking conflicted. A commonality in this city recently. Coming up to him as Ser Barristan stood not to far off all outside the door. “He was on edge the entire time. Ranting and raving, no matter what I said he just never stopped.”

Turning to look at the door from the corner of your eye, it didn’t miss your notice the suddenly absent Queen. Lord Stark would take down his final decrees of succession and no doubt make him protector of the realm until Joffery turned of age. Honour was losing this fight, and to accomodate him as an heir wouldn’t be honourable. But it would be just. Defy honour for the Kings last words to do your duty by the laws and justice of the realm he served.

You finally turned back to Renly, and no longer was it a grieving brother you saw but a Baratheon with something behind his mind. Don’t do something stupid you thought to yourself, there was enough of that going around in this family.

Ser Barristan blamed himself, saying he should’ve stopped him from all the wine. Shaking your head you looked at the closed door. “There’s not a man in the Seven Kingdoms who could stop Robert from destroying himself.”

Lord Stark reemerged enough to close the door, giving the dying King privacy. “Give him milk of the poppy.” You crossed your arms at the shiver down your spine. You’d rather just have it ended for you, rather then laying there withering away in the stench of death and barley conscious. Grand Maester Pycelle and Renly both going in.

You moved to stand on the side of his bad leg, noticing Lord Varys was near the wall like a spider having slunk in from the dark corners. “I wonder, Ser Barristan, who gave the king this wine?”

Credit, Lord Varys was far better at playing the concerned role then Lord Baelish was. The lack of an ego likely having something to do with it. “His squire, from the king’s own skin.” Lord Stark glanced at you, but it almost didn’t matter if it was Lancel. The King lay in there with the stench of death, while you stood out here starting to wonder what the scent of war was. “Such a dutiful boy to make sure his Grace did not lack refreshment. I do hope the poor lad does not blame himself.”

Stepping forward, you followed Lord Stark as came closer to the spider. “His Grace has had a change of heart concerning Daenerys Targaryean. Whatever arrangements you made, unmake them at once.”

Already walking down the hall, Lord Varys called back and you closed your eyes with a sigh. “I’m afraid those birds have flown. The girl is likely dead already.” The girl would be dead, Viserys as well, but no one mentioned the fate of the unborn child.

You yearned for the cold of the North, at least it’s sting was just how it’s air was. But the stings were not yet over, and you felt like a fool for not seeing the next one coming. Renly calling your name was well as Lord Stark, asking for a moment alone.

“He named you protector of the realm.”

“He did.”

“She won’t care. Give me an hour and I can put a hundred swords at your command.” Leaning forward you suddenly saw him slipping away too. Cersei wouldn’t care, she didn’t leave when she was given the chance but Renly wasn’t thinking of anything close to such a situation.

“And what should I do with a hundred swords?”

Your skin pricked everywhere, blood hot in your veins as you felt much like you had in the small council chamber days ago. Like this wasn’t the man you knew. “Strike, tonight while the castle sleeps. We must get Joffery away from his mother and into our custody.”

You stepped forward, a hiss in your voice and anger in your eyes. “Have you lost your mind?”

Looking at you, he pleaded for you go along with it, but this wasn’t some feast or tournament he wished to drag you along with. You didn’t imagine those swords were there for only threat, and you couldn’t help but think that those swords could be in the drapings of roses.

“Protector of the realm or no, he who holds the King holds the Kingdom. Every moment you delay gives Cersei another moment to prepare. By the time Robert dies it will be too late for us.”

The growing anger only built, “What about Stannis?”

Renly looked at you as if you’d grown a second head, like you had just said the dumbest thing imaginable. “Saving the Seven Kingdoms from Cersei and delivering them to Stannis? You have odd notions about protecting the realm.”

Lord Stark spoke, but you neither moved nor cooled off. He was your father, and he was the heir but Renly had a lifetime of having Robert hand things to him which belonged to Stannis. It seemed still now as Robert lay dying he still expected such treatment. The childish notions of a man who has no idea what the world outside his luxury looks like.

“Stannis is your older brother.”

“This isn’t about the bloody line of succession. That didn’t matter when you rebelled against the Mad King. It shouldn’t matter now. We all know what Stannis is. He inspires no love or loyalty. He’s not a King.” If the Starks had a temper, the blood in you which was born a Baratheon raged to that of their fury.

Renly knew nothing of what his brother was capable of, he got to sit in Storms End as a child and have advisors rule for him until he was summoned to Kings Landing where he got the same treatments. Only then he got to rub it into his brothers face directly what he got instead. He spent years telling you that you seemed to have too much in common with your father and he had the audacity to speak to you like it didn’t matter.

If Stannis wasn’t a king, then could be? Renly had an answer for that too. “I am.”

Were Lord Stark not here, you wondered how easily that fury would have let itself be known. And you were far luckier that the he was as calm as he was in the face of what was being presented. “Stannis is a commander. He’s led men into war twice, he destroyed the Greyjoy fleet.”

His face twisted into denial, as if the two of you were the mad ones. “Yes he’s a good solider. Everyone knows that, so was Robert. Tell me something, Do you still believe good soldiers make good kings?”

He looked surefire, cocky, but yet he didn’t look at you anymore. Dancing around the truth and spouting honeyed words to bend things to his side instead of having the courage to say what he truly means. It had nothing to do with Stannis. It had nothing to do with any of this.

Lord Stark’s word was final. “I will not dishonour Robert’s last hours by shedding blood in his halls, and dragging frightened children from their beds.” Leaving to rejoin his guards, you were left standing in the halls with your uncle.

“You know what he’ll do. You know he won’t let you do this. Not anymore.” You stepped into his space as Renly raised his head high. “Don’t tear us apart now, not while your own brother is still laying in a pool of his own blood.”

“And you? Whose side are you on, my dear niece. For someone who claims to be on Stannis’s side your spending an awful lot of time next to your new father.” Closing the gap you two would only hear the other, words just for you as he said your name. “You don’t want your family to be torn apart? Then consider what family it is your siding with exactly.”

Renly stormed off before you, and the halls choked you with the scent of war. It had been some time since you had heard from Robb, and he you. Not that he could know the extent, but the Lannisters putting a spear through his fathers leg sent a pretty loud message that Kings Landing was not a place that was trusted. Not even with written words in the sky. The distance didn’t feel like it made the heart grow stronger. You felt only isolated.

Lord Stark had called upon Lord Baelish. He didn’t say to you why, and you appreciated that he knew you well enough that it didn’t need to be said. It didn’t feel good, it wasn’t honourable what he was to ask and yet it seemed this place demanded it. You didn’t know what Renly was doing, or what he had planned but as you stood against the wall watching Lord Stark write, you only wished he wasn’t so stupid this time.

Just this once.

Taking it upon himself to write of Roberts death, and choosing his words carefully just as your father would his. Only, you couldn’t shake what Renly had said. Condescendingly calling Lord Stark your new father and yet imploring you to side against your father by birth. Consider what family your siding with?

What was that answer?

You had shaken your head a silent no when he asked if you wanted to look over it. Yes you trusted his words, but it didn’t feel good. Bells ringing in the distance of a dying king and bloodshed waiting the halls of it’s kingdom. Summoning one of his men, Tomand, Lord Stark sealed the letter with his sigil and with firm instructions left no room for question.

“You will sail to Dragonstone tonight. You will place this in the hand of Stannis Baratheon. Not his Steward, not his captain of the guard, and not his wife. Only Stannis himself.”

It was that day in the godswood that you truly felt the comfort of a father. As he stood with you an arm comforting you around your shoulder as the panic boiled inside of your chest. That same feeling returned now. Did not assume, nor even ask if you would want to be the one to deliver it to him.

He said at the wedding, once you married Robb you would be part of the pack. A pack which protects each other. He kept you at his side, not sending you off alone once more and it made your limbs weigh down with metal to the floor. A pack leader does not let one of them go off all alone.

It was then that Lord Baelish arrived. The bells of death in the background as he bowed with a low whisper and smile. “My Lord Protector.”

Lord Stark looked at you, and you tilted your head with a grimace. It indeed, beyond all doubt as of this moment was his choice alone. Looking down to the desk, before back up he ripped the bandage off. “The King has no true born sons. Joffery and Tommen are Jaime Lannisters bastards.”

Eyes narrowing, he sat down. “So when the King dies...”

Your voice was rough from the silence, “The throne passes to his brother. Lord Stannis.”

Lord Baelish had the audacity just as your uncle before. Starting with the word “Unless” before the fed up sensation passed on finally to Lord Stark. “There is no unless. He is the rightful heir nothing can change that.”

“And he cannot take the throne without your help, you would be wise to deny it to him. And to make sure Joffery succeeds.” Were you not his family anymore truly or did this city fill itself with that of heartless rats who would turn on the other in a snap of fingers? You stood up straighter as he cared not much to consider the betrayal hurting your eyes.

Leaning forward, Lord Stark’s voice as ashamed to be in the same room with him as you. “Do you have a shred of honour?”

The answer was no, but not in so little words. “You are now Hand of the King and Protector of the Realm. All the power is yours you need only reach out and take it.” And yet here he was asking Lord Baelish of all people for help, that didn’t feel like power to you. “Make peace with the Lannisters. Release the Imp, wed your daughter to Joffery.”

You could throw something sharp through his neck the second he looked at you with his words covered in grime. “We have plenty of time to get rid of Stannis.” He didn’t even flinch at the step you almost took forward. Your heart feeling as if it was carving itself out a new hole just filling with hatred and anger. “And if Joffery seems likely to cause problems when he comes into his throne, we simply reveal his little secret and sit Lord Renly there instead.”

Renly. “He’s not a King. I am.” How far did this web of betrayals spread? It was treason, and you spat out as such but he only smiled with surity.

“Only if we lose.”

Lord Stark was as unconvinced as yourself, his own anger locked away in his rigid tone pulling open the drawer. “Make peace with the Lannisters you say. The people who tried to murder by boy.” The ornate dagger, he placed it onto his desk and you only could see again.

How many children in his fight are to be the victims and none of the perpetrators?

“We only make peace with our enemies, my lord. That’s why it’s called making peace.” Lord Stark refused, saying he wouldn’t do it and it seemed to shift the confident smugness right out of his bravado and slithering onto the floor and out the window. “So it will be Stannis. And war.”

“There is no other choice, he is the heir.”

It was fitting it seemed. To your father, it was not a choice either. It was his, and that would be where the question ended.

Asking why he was even brought here, you once again shared a look between you and Lord Stark. It seemed that today was a day to give many things up. “The Queen has a dozen knights and a hundred men at arms. Enough to overwhelm what remains of my household guard. I need the gold cloaks. The city watch is two thousand strong and sworn to defend the Kings peace.”

Was that all though? No it wasn’t, and Lord Baelish once more returned of his pride. A smirk growing wider at the more the silence between you stood in the air. “Look at you two. You know what you want me to do, you know it has to be done but it’s not honourable. So the words stick in your throat.”

His hand reached up, slowly toying with the daggers edge as he started to swivel it. “When the Queen proclaims one King and the Hand another, whose peace do the Gold Cloaks protect? Who do they follow?”

Lord Stark couldn’t say it. He wouldn’t bring himself to admit to needing such a favour and it made you hold a need to reach out to him. But here, in this place? You would be the one to summon the guts.

Looking off to the other side of the room, your arms crossed as you leaned against the wall an almost ironic smirk fell over your lips. Lord Baelish wasn’t an honourable man, or even a good one. But here you were, the daughter of the Lord which hated him arguably the most. Pleading for his help.

You felt gross as you said the words. “The man who pays them.”

The day was bright as the bells continued to ring. Lord Starks men split between readying things to send Arya and Sansa back to Winterfell as the others remained by both your sides. Arya wanting one last lesson with her dancing master she never took a chance at missing a lesson. At this rate she could give you a run for your money, and you’d welcome it even if just to shake you momentarily out of the feeling you had in your gut.

It was the same one that you had before, the screaming throttle that twisted your insides just as it had that day on the Kingsroad. You thought it was a result of parting ways but it seemed that it was just as strong now despite him having nothing to do with the current issue.

Morning bright and no news yet having reached either of you when one of the throne’s pages came up to you both. The guards at the ready, and Lord Stark having to ease them as you turned to look at the man. “Lord Stark, King Joffery and the Queen regent request your presence in the throne room.”

Heart slowing a shiver danced down your spine as your words came out breathlessly. “King Joffery?”

The bells tolled in the sky but it sounded like they were ringing in your head, each boom smacking you with the steps you took towards the throne room. The pit in your stomach grew as the weight of the paper in your hand was doubled, tripled, turned to metal from paper. In the courtyard stood many of the city watch as your own group approached Lord Baelish and Lord Varys.

A calm and confident look on the formers face, as the nerves ran ragged as much as your blood ran hot in your veins. “All is accomplished, the city watch is yours.”

One was missing. One person was missing and despite knowing it was fruitless you looked around like a child as if he was just hiding. “Is my Uncle joining us?”

Lord Varys for his part, looked genuine in his words. He was the one man you found hard to read but his eyes didn’t speak favourably. “I fear lord Renly has left the city.” Your heart sank down as your limbs froze in the summer heat. “He road through the old gate an hour before dawn with Ser Loras Tyrell and some fifty retainers. Last seen galloping south in some haste.”

Lord Stark beside you could hear the yells of war over the bells. You had one chance today, one last plea to Cersei to do this one thing and at the least you would be the five kingdoms against two. The paper in your hand felt like a beg, an ask for mercy knowing Renly would not find any.

If you could sit your father on the throne, only Renly would be the obstacle and he stood no chance with only Storms End and Highgarden at his back. But as you swallowed hard and your eyes fell to Lord Stark? The sharpness and grim tone in both of you felt that dread loom.

Coming up to the main doors, behind you were Lord Varys and Baelish, around them was the remains of the Stark household guard that served at his side and all around you and beyond were the gold cloaks. To the side of you was stood Lord Janos Slynt, standing with as much posture as a man such as himself could manage. “We stand behind you, Lord Stark.”

The doors opened and the throne room was ready. In the Iron Throne sat Joffery, dressed in gold and the crown atop his head with a smile that sliced at you. You saw none of Robert and only of the Lannisters which spawned him. Approaching the air was thick, thick enough to cut with a sword should one attempt.

“All hail his Grace, Joffery of Houses Baratheon and Lannister. First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

You and Lord Stark stood together, the Kingsguard all standing in a path to the throne as Cersei sat with a knowing look in her eye that made the anger rise. Renly wanted war, but he was also right. She wouldn’t care and this was the last chance you and Lord Stark had to escape this unscathed.

Joffery, now King Joffery you supposed sat at his Throne not even standing in anyway. No hint of the tragic child losing his father with watery eyes was to be seen. “I command the council to make all necessary arrangements for my coronation. I wish to be crowned within the fortnight. Today, I shall accept oaths of fealty from my loyal councillors.”

The room was deathly silent. All eyes on the pair of you as Lord Stark nodded. He would do his duty and you would not blame him for that, but it didn’t make it any easier. Your voice for all your bad luck, came out dutiful and strong. “Ser Barristan. I believe none here could dare question your honour.”

Stepping forward as you did him, you handed the paper to him as you both looked at one another firmly. His hesitation to the blazing look and serious harshness in your eyes and gaze took him back for something he was not prepared for. Looking it over, he turned to the crown.

“King Roberts seal. Unbroken.” No movement from the Queen, she wouldn’t care he was right. “Lord Eddard Stark is herein named Protector of the Realm. To Rule as Regent until the heir come of age.”

Joffery looked confused and offended, as your eyes met what you once thought of as your cousin. He said nothing, but his mother did. Always running to her for the hard work as he sat like a spoiled brat and eyed you like you were the craven, not him.

The Queen looked it over, “Protector of the Realm? Is this mean to be your shield Lord Stark? A piece of paper?” Tearing it into pieces, you felt those nerves turn to anger once more. She won’t care, Renly said. She won’t care and yet he rides off knowing war is inevitable.

Ser Barristan looked up to her, his own face betraying his conflict. “Those were the Kings words.”

“We have a new King now.”

Perhaps it was your position, but you couldn’t deny no matter how you felt about the side of your family. You were now the daughter of the rightful king, and there on the throne sat a product of disgust and dishonour that looked at you with eyes of hate. Cersei’s eyes were on Lord Starks and it seemed now the wolves had their opponents in the lions.

“Lord Eddard when we last spoke you offered me some council. Allow me to return the courtesy. Bend the knee, my Lord. Bend the knee and swear loyalty to my son. And we shall allow you and the Lady Stark to live out your days in the grey waste you call home.”

He spoke with no hesitation to admit the truth, and in a single instance there was no turning back anymore. It was war, and there was no stopping any of it from any side. “Your son has no claim to the throne.”

Joffery screeched out that he was a liar. Your eyes narrowing as your fury raised. Cersei demanding Ser Barristan take you both, Lord Stark pleaded to the immediate closing in from his guard and the city watch. “Ser Barristan is a good man, a loyal man do him no harm.”

You didn’t look at him, and you didn’t see the true hesitation in his pause. He knows neither of you are liars nor thieves. He knows Lord Stark bound to honour and you carry the weight of your fathers fist of justice. He knew you since you were a girl but all you could see was the possessed demon of gold on the Throne.

“You think he stands alone?”

Swords were drawn, her men showing no hesitation that the man before you did. Joffery screamed to them. “Kill them, kill both of them, I command you.”

Whatever sympathy for the boy at his fathers death bed you held, died in that moment. None left and for whatever reason, all you could think of was how easily Robb overpowered him, tossed him around and left him bruised skin and ego so easily in the training yard of Winterfell. The memory of the boy throwing a tantrum and the smirk Robb sent your way at how little he’d even broken a sweat by that point made you exhale a shaking breathe of fury.

Being a lion didn’t make him brave. It didn’t make him fierce. But you could see Robb Stark as clear now as you glared at the new King and just perhaps he was destined to find out how much a wolf could tear a lion apart.

Have your men, your mother, fight this battle for you Joffery. It won’t protect you forever.

Lord Stark raising his own voice, the tension so heavy the court was choking in it. “Commander, take the Queen and her children into custody. Escort them back to their royal apartments and keep them there, under guard.”

From right beside you, Janos Slynt responded in kind. “Men of the Watch,” The shift and all of their own spears pointed to the swords of the Kingsguard and Lannister men.

You and your cousin staring the other down, that crown on his head looking far too big for such a coward. Lord Stark giving a plea, “I want no bloodshed. Tell your men to lay down their swords, no one needs to die.”

Seconds passed which felt like minutes dragging along the clock. Cersei and Joffery towards Lord Stark and yourself as you waited out their decision. Only they didn’t make one, and neither did you.

From the same voice which assured they stood behind you, Janos Slynt yelled, “Now,”

Blood flew everywhere in an instant. The City Watch turning onto the Starks household guard and without any shame or order taking them all to the ground with horrid shings of metal that screeched in your ears. Lord Stark and yourself moving to the other as you looked around at the horror as you didn’t understand what happened.

In the mess of blood and swords, you turned to look at Lord Stark only to be yanked backwards. Two arms pulling your back up to their front as Janos Slynt held your hands pinned to your body as his other held a blade up to your throat.

In front of you, stood Lord Stark exactly as you were only behind him was the traitor you should have seen coming. Lord Baelish stood behind him, the very blade in hand used to try and murder Bran now sat pointed edge at his throat as the massacre occurred around you. “I did warn you not to trust me.”

You had never been in the black cells before, nor anywhere near them before now. Back pressed up against one the walls with your knees pulled up to your chest, you could see and hear it happening all around you. Lord Baelish had played you and Lord Stark like fools, the slimy lies of Janos Slynt telling you both, “We stand behind you, Lord Stark.”

It was angering, enough you hadn’t even noticed how much your fingernails were cutting into the skin of your palms as you curled them. They would’ve gone after the girls too, they wanted Sansa to marry Joffery they would keep her close, but Arya? You couldn’t imagine what they’d done to her, or where she’d even be. She was fast, and clever you knew, maybe she’d run. But to where?

She was just a child, who could she even turn to rely on? Who was left in this city to care?

The longer you sat in that cell, the more you couldn’t shake the feeling that staying here would be the end for you. Your father wouldn’t bend the knee, even for you. Worse then that, you weren’t just considered a traitor now, you were the daughter of the one man Cersei had reason to fear. Renly had the numbers of Storms End and Highgarden, but he wasn’t a leader. Stannis Baratheon was the one that she would fear.

He was without mercy, and not a man she could ever hope to trick or manipulate. It was what made him so unlikable in a place like this, you couldn’t buy him or trick him because he saw no value in the tricks such things brought. You can’t hold his daughter hostage and assume that would be enough to send him away, no.

He was Robert’s heir, and you were his. You were as big of a threat as he was in Cersei’s eyes.

Your vision blurred the light of the torch as the cell door cracked open. A figure coming towards you, you kept your head high and looking straight, they wanted to see you break, they’d have to do far worse then this. Your name fell from a familiar voice as they knelt down in front of you, repeating it once more until your eyes focused.

“Lord Varys.”

Dressed as a gaoler its likely in a place like this he wasn’t so easily spotted. “My lady, it’s truly a shame to see you in such a place.”

Raising your eyebrows, your face was skeptical. “Is it? You did a fine job at watching us get dragged down here like animals. Tell me, did Lord Baelish surprise you too or was this one big lie?”

Huffing out a laugh, he bent his head before a small grimace. “I assure you, it was not my intentions to have it end up like this. Lord Baelish’s own motives do not often align with my own. I have no interest in seeing Renly Baratheon on the Iron Throne.”

The laugh leaving you was as cracked as it was fake. “What do you want. Really. If you’re here to lecture me, I’d much rather die without one.”

“Unfortunately, you are far more useful to the realm alive then dead. But only if you understand where it is your allegiances should lay.” Watching you shake your head, he leaned forward. “Your father is the one thing Cersei sees as a real threat, and if you can quell her worries that you will be too then she just may let you live.”

Heart weighing heavily in your chest you shook your head once more. “The only reason he or I am a threat to her is because she knows her son has no actual claim to the throne. Why should I turn a blind eye to the thing that murdered Jon Arryn, that had my father abandon me here- you really think I would bend the knee to Joffery?”

A tsk came from his mouth, “I’m not asking you to enjoy it, I’m asking you to do this for the good of the realm.” You said nothing, you found it too hard to believe anything in this place, or most people. “Denounce your ties to your father, swear your loyalty-”

“And what? She’ll let me go? Keep me here as a prisoner for the rest of my life?”

Lord Varys sighed, standing up with a blank stare. “Perhaps there’s someone else you may hear reason from.” Another figure, not quite like him. Taller, leaner and dressed in more commoner rags until they slid their hood down and your eyes widened.

Your back straightened, pushing yourself against the wall as Ser Barristan made his way towards you, a somber look in his eye as well as such frowns they indented lines in his face. He held no weapons, he hadn’t even harmed you or Lord Stark’s men but he was the Kingsguard now. As he knelt in front of you, one knee on the ground as he looked you over with a concern befitting of his profession, you held your breathe.

Gently murmuring your name, you felt your chest close up more. He ran a gentle hand down the side of your head where a mark had been bleeding, you think from when they tossed you in here. “I never thought-”

Speaking before your logic could overtake, “It’s not your fault. You have a duty and you were just following it.” There still was a sting, that he was still sided against you, and yet his very appearance in here alongside Lord Varys said otherwise. Starting to say something about King Robert you interrupted him, nothing left to hide as you sat here. “Joffery and Tommen aren’t Roberts sons. Robert has no true heir.”

His eyes betrayed very little but the length of pause as you saw wheels in his head turning, made him glance up to Lord Varys who tilted his head as if to say you were telling the truth. “His final seal, about the heir-”

“He didn’t know, he died not knowing. He wanted Lord Stark to rule until Joffery came of age, he wasn’t trying to take it from him.” His face twitched in thought as you both looked at the other with a defeated expression, yours threatening to water much to your dismay.

“Then that makes the heir-”

Lord Varys finished for him, a tone of finality that was grim and looming. “Lord Stannis Baratheon.” A moment passed between you and Ser Barristan, there was little confidence in your face nor was their acceptance in your heart. “Cersei no doubt sees her persistence here as a threat to her son. If Stannis is the heir, that would make our dear Lady Stark here second in line.”

Pausing, Ser Barristan opened and closed his mouth before putting things together. “But his brother-”

You huffed a breathe of air. “Renly wanted to take the throne before Robert was even dead. Then he ran off with the Tyrells in toe. My father won’t take kindly to that. If he’s coming here with war, he’ll sure as hell find some of it for being usurped on just one more thing Renly doesn’t deserve.” You still held love in your heart for him, but he was a fool. He was well liked, but that didn’t make you a leader. It wasn’t enough.

“Stannis is a proven battle commander, he gave his eldest daughter a Lord’s education, taught her how to fight and raised her to follow in his footsteps.” Both men looked at you, and Ser Barristan didn’t seem to be okay with the conclusion in your eyes. “He would name her his direct heir in place of a son, and even worse, with Robb Stark at her side-”

“She’ll have the support of the North too.”

You hated it all. You hated that you and Robb had just been pawns in a scheme for a throne you never wanted, your father doesn’t even want it but he will make it his duty to fulfill his rightful claim. That’s why it didn’t matter to him if you and Robb cared for the other, should you succeed Stannis then you’d have an existing ally in the North.

It had nothing to do with how close to family the Starks had become, nothing to do with how at home you felt in the North and where you belonged. It was about the throne this whole time.

“So, what now? Lord Varys. Tell me, you bring him all the way down here to what? Rub in how fucked I am? Have Ser Barristan return to the crown and tell them all about how uncooperative I’m being?”

His head dropped in a sigh that exuded residual anger but the exhaustion was too strong to attempt to pry. There was clearly more that they weren’t saying but they also continued to dance around why they were even here. “Cersei has had Sansa write a letter pleading to her brother to come to Kings Landing and swear his fealty to the new king.”

You laughed, only the air coming from it sounded dry and painful. “The Lannisters try to kill his brother, put a spear through Lord Stark’s leg, now they think telling him they’ve arrested his father and wife, Robb is suddenly going to find it in his heart to forgive them? They don’t know him very well.”

Ser Barristan was a tad on the more gentle side. “The Queen doesn’t know many as well as she thinks she does.” Somewhere in your mind it did register he didn’t come down here as a Kingsguard, when he reasonably would have access to the black cells. “Including myself, my lady.”

Glancing between them, it blurted out before you had fully realized the thought. “Where’s Arya?”

Lord Varys didn’t look grim, but he did look unsure as did his words sound it. “Somewhere still in the city we presume, but no one has found her. Not even my little birds have found any trace.”

“Would you really tell me if they did, though?”

He didn’t answer, and that was as much one as if he said no out loud. “Get out.” Looking up at the spider you had no bite behind the spiting words but the sentiment was seen. “I don’t make peace with backstabbing lions, and I am not starting now.”

Ser Barristan looked unsure of leaving, but rose to his feet anyways. The slight flicker of warmth at seeing him dying as the torch started leaving the light in your eyes. Lord Varys was barley visible before he turned the door, “You might be the only one who can stand in Stannis’s way of the throne, I know that, Cersei knows that. He may be your father, but he is the one thing which scares her the most. There is nothing half as as terrifying as a truly just man, my lady. Denounce him and you will walk out of this cell with your life.”

You stopped looking at him, just into the darkness you would go back too once the door closed. “She will walk me out of this cell alive no matter what, letting me rot to death in here doesn’t send a message to my father. A public execution and sending my head to Dragonstone does.”

Did you dream? Or was it just a hallucination as you hazed back into the conscious world. The sight of fire once more filling your vision, but you were dozy with memories that scrambled to put themselves together once more. You could hear Robb, see him almost. The reddish brown curls and his warm voice like the fire in his room, a comforting touch across the back of your neck as he spoke to you.

The words faded, but they were there and he hummed in your ear so soothingly. But they didn’t stay that way, the warm soothing tone slipped. The red tinted brown grew longer and darker to a black as the voice became an enticing husk, a rasping voice.

The hand on you grew tighter only it wasn’t on the back of your neck, now it felt as if the hands urged you in the opposite direction, the only sight of the faded figure, dressed in leathers and black not furs and armour as before. Fire was in your vision, small like a balled up little flame that the figure snatched with his bare hands.

Tossing it beyond your face as the voice rasped in your ear only for the light to find itself thrown onto the torch now close to your face. And now the voices were gone, and the darkness around you was cold and the isolation fierce.

Your eyes struggled to see but once more Ser Barristan knelt before you gently calling your name. His hands reached to help you stand as you looked in confusion. “You shouldn’t-”

“My lady, I shouldn’t be in this city with how many men the Queen would’ve sent looking for me.” Your eyebrows raised slightly as your lips slightly parted in confusion. “The Crown has decided I’m not fit to serve as a Kingsguard anymore, but I’ll be damned if I let them shut me away in a home where I’m not use to anyone.”

That’s why he wasn’t here as one of them, just in clothes that he could hide in.

“But you are of no use to anyone here either, my lady. We know war is coming to these shores and I won’t have you on the wrong side when it happens.” Pulling you to the door of the black cell, he wrapped a long cloak with a dark hood around you, pulling it up.

“Ser Barristan, I can’t just leave them-” He had to lean down slightly to look at your eyes, his hands comfortingly on your shoulder. “Lord Stark, Arya..they’re my family now I can’t just leave them like this. That isn’t who I am.”

His grip was strong keeping you in place as he said your name firmly. “They are not your only family, and they aren’t the only ones who need you. You are still as much a Baratheon as you are a Stark now, and that means you have a duty. One you can’t do from in here.”

Lord Varys had said only you could convince your father to not make his attack, your other family is locked away or scattered across the country but your duty was said to be that of your fathers.

“He won’t bend, you know that.”

Nodding back, he leaned forward more to a whisper even in the vast emptiness. “Joffery is not a king either of us can stand in court to serve anymore, they have made sure of that. But you were raised to be more then just a lady, perhaps you were meant to serve another king. One that you can actually call family.”

Duty and family. They were one in the same sometimes, but to others they got in the way. Your mind echoed a whisper in your ear, warm and soothing like the first voice in your feverish dreams of moments ago, as it told you “Here. You belong here.”

“We can’t just walk through the gates, not now.” Coming into the dark hallway, you both swiftly made your way to the end of the corridor as you looked to another closed cell. Was he in that one? Was he okay, still alive? But the footsteps pacing down the other hall had Barristan bring you along further.

His voice gruff and low, “The Targaryeans built tunnels beneath the city if they ever needed to escape. We can follow one of them, and end up at one of the small shore docks, and there you need to go to Dragonstone. Rejoin your family and maybe we both can find purpose out of this city.”

In his eyes, Ser Barristan had failed to protect King Robert from himself. Just maybe this was his way of atoning, if he couldn't protect you, the King’s niece and true claimed King’s daughter and heir, maybe he could get you home.

By the time any noticed, Cersei had put a stall on any ship leaving for ports within the Crownlands until they could be searched. The new King, Joffery having yelled over her and angrily about killing you should they find you alive and to bring him Barristans head for helping you escape.

No one knew which ship you had left on, but they were determined to stop you before letting Stannis and his firstborn heir reunite. As you stood in breeches, and a cloak curled around your body as the hood draped over your head you looked out into the water.

You hadn’t travelled this way on a ship of smallfolk before, but the route was all the same. You’d be there in no time should the gods bless you with the winds or the tides. As Kings Landing left your vision, you couldn’t help but see those same images.

The soft touch of Robb that now felt like a lifetime away, a dream showing you the panicked husk of what sounded like Jons voice rasping something you couldn’t recall to you as if he was grabbing fire out of your own hands. You could see their father, Lord Stark and the fear for the others life in yours and his eyes as you were hauled away as traitors. And the worry in manys eyes as they spoke of your own father, Stannis.

The sea didn’t smell of something crisp and it didn’t flush cool on your skin. The sea, much like the skies and the earths all below it, it all looked like blood, like fire, like the stench of war loomed over the horizon.

You just hoped you reached home, before home left for war without you.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine #game of thrones imagine #jon snow #robb stark #asoisf imagine

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penkura · 1 year ago

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found you! [1/3]

Summary: Twice Penguin found you. The third time you found him.

Note: It's Penguin’s birthday. Why not make this my first post, aye? Nothing really special or to warn about this one, except references to sex, that's it. Fem!reader because that's all I know how to write, sorry. They're all adults here (pretty sure they are in the canon anyway but). Shachi and Ikkaku are in an on again off again relationship because I said so. Penguin calls the Reader by petnames to cut down on using [y/n] and the like.

I don't have the next two parts written yet, but I will be working on them this next week.

Rolling over in your bed, you pull your pillow and stick your head under it, praying you can drown out the whispered shouting of Shachi and Ikkaku, though you know it’s pretty useless when those two get riled up. It's always in the middle of the night, nearly always at 1:30am, and happens at least twice a week, always in the room you share with Ikkaku. You hear her shush Shachi again, saying you’re sleeping and to keep it down, but he argues with her that she wanted privacy while they fought spoke and this was the best place considering the others still awake through the ship.

Please, please just shut up.

They don’t, still fighting about something stupid, probably Shachi flirting with some girl in front of Ikkaku, that sounds about right you realize as you pull your pillow tighter over your head.

You’d think they’d be a bit more considerate since you’ve been sick with a cold the last few days, but unlucky for you, this is one of the best places for them to fight about their non-relationship. They think they’re so slick, that no one else knows about their hook ups and quiet dates that Ikkaku swears to you aren’t dates, but everyone on the Polar Tang can see they’re both just lying to themselves. There’s been a betting pool on when the two will just commit, Law is even taking part because he’s just as sick of this as everyone else is.

For several more minutes all you hear is hushed, angry whispering, to the point you finally sit up in your bed, wrapping your blanket around you, and going to leave.

“Oh! [Y/N], I’m so—”

“Don’t be. Just don’t have sex in my bed okay? I just washed my bedding.”

Ikkaku turns bright red and she throws her pillow at the door when you close it as you leave, making you giggle just a bit. You know better than anyone how their fights end, you don’t want to come back to your room tonight at all.

Instead, you start to make your way towards your captain’s office, knowing Law is still wide awake, probably working on a plan or just revising a medical book. Having known him nearly as long as Penguin, Bepo, and Shachi, you’re not surprised when you finally get there and knock on his door, trying to push back a cough when you hear a soft ‘come in’ and open the door.

Law barely looks up at you, giving you a slight glance with a raised eyebrow while you walk over to the couch in his office.

“Can I help you?”

“Lovers spat in my room.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose but not looking from his book. “Again?”

“Again.”

“How do they fight all the time but you and Penguin don’t?”

“Perks of having been together almost a decade. We know everything about each other and are too committed to screw it up at this point.”

As you lay down, pulling your blanket around you more, Law watches you before speaking again.

“That’s my napping spot, you human cat.”

“Shh,” glancing over your shoulder, you put a finger to your lips, before snuggling further into the couch, “I sleep. I’m still sick.”

“Then go find your boyfriend.”

“He’s still on night watch. He’ll come find me.”

Law doesn’t get another word in before you fall right to sleep, he rolls his eyes in response, turning back to his desk.

He knows Penguin will come find you, he just kind of wishes you’d keep your sickness to your own room or the infirmary.

+!+

Penguin does come looking for you once his night watch shift is over an hour later. He first goes by your shared room with Ikkaku, but the sounds he hears make him blush bright red before he quickly turns and goes towards the men’s bunks. If that’s going on in there, you’ve definitely left to sleep elsewhere. You’ve probably snuck into his bunk bed to get away from the non-couple on the ship, it makes his heart clench a bit at the through, you having to leave your room still under the weather and needing some peace an quiet.

Not like the men’s bunks are that much quieter, but at least there’s not active sex happening in there right now (at least, he hopes there isn’t). He’s already starting to unzip his boiler suit before he’s even fully in the men’s bunks, just wanting to crawl into bed with you and sleep finally, even though morning would be soon, he can at least get about four more hours before it’s time for breakfast.

Perfect plan, and tomorrow’s our day off~

Unfortunately, you aren’t even in his bed, causing his excitement to disappear and his shoulders to slump, before Penguin looks over to Clione and Hakugan nearby.

“Have either of you seen [Y/N]?”

Clione shrugs while Hakugan shakes his head, both responses making Penguin pout a bit while he slips off his boiler suit to just his tank top and boxers to sleep in.

“She’s not in her room?”

“No, well,” his face turns red again and the other two men are quick to realize that Shachi isn’t around and what that must mean, “I sure hope she isn’t…”

“Ugh, those two again?”

“Do they forget there’s a designated room for that?”

He shrugs, starting to prep his bed to bring you to it once he finds you, remembering the day Law awkwardly told everyone there was now a room only for extracurricular activities, and sex anywhere else wouldn’t be tolerated if it was found out. Sometimes people slipped and brought someone back to the wrong room, or Ikkaku and Shachi argued in your shared room and it escalated once they worked things out, like tonight. You and Penguin were at least smart enough to either use the designated room or, if you were docked on an island, rent a hotel room away from everyone else just for that night.

As soon as his bed is ready, Penguin takes off to find where you’ve gone for some peace and quiet. There’s very few places on the Polar Tang that aren’t bustling with people doing various things, whether playing cards, having animated discussions, or performing maintenance where needed. The current, most obvious places for you to sleep would be the designated room, Law’s office, or the nearly empty infirmary. He does make a stop by your room but continues on as he still hears sounds he doesn’t want to, moving quickly towards the infirmary first to see if you’d dragged yourself there. You hate sleeping in there unless it’s your only or last option, but even when he gets there and pokes his head in, Penguin doesn’t see you on one of the beds at all, only catching sight of Uni who you’d somehow given your cold to. Knowing you practically never go to the designated room, not without him at least, the only other place you could possibly be is Law’s office, so he starts to make his way towards the captain’s room.

You may not have known Law as long as Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo, but the two of you have become close ever since you joined. Your home life having gone from comfortable to hell, leading you to beg the small group of Pirates that landed on your island for help ended up being the best thing to happen to you. It wasn’t Law you ended up clinging to and begging for help, not even Penguin. It was Shachi who had been checking out the island with Penguin, the two teens at the time bringing you to the small group of about seven people, Law agreeing to hear your story before he offered you to join them after you’d made known you were a decent cook and seamstress. Stereotypical hobbies for a young woman, but with how your family was, it was all you could do to make money for you and your mother at the time. You’ve since learned how to fight, martial arts and a metal baton being your choice of weapons. You’d moved from being a dual chef and seamstress to being more help in the mechanical aspects of the ship, while still working on the crews clothes when needed.

While Penguin did find you attractive as soon as he met you, it was still another two years before he said anything, eventually confessing to you with your favorite flowers in hand, his face bright red which made you grin before you kissed him as a response.

You’ve been together ever since, Penguin doesn’t think he could ever be happier than he is now.

Finding Law’s office door cracked open leads Penguin to briefly knock on the doorway before stepping in, not waiting for a response from his captain and friend.

“Hey, Cap! Have you seen—”

“On the couch.” Law nods his head back towards where you’re sleeping, not bothering to look up from his book once again.

Once he sees you, Penguin smiles just a bit before thanking Law, walking over quietly and giving you a small kiss on your temple which wakes you enough to crack open an eye, the slightest smile as you realize who just woke you.

“Hey there, pretty girl, I found you,” he gives you a soft smile before starting to help you up, making you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist as he lifts you up, “Got kicked out of your room?”

“No…I left cause they were arguing.”

“Ahh that explains it. Let’s get you to my bed then.”

You hum as a response while Penguin grabs your blanket, you briefly looking over to Law who just watches the two of you, making you smirk.

“Told you he’d find me.”

Your captain rolls his eyes before bidding you both goodnight as Penguin starts to leave and head back to the men’s bunks, you greet your other crewmates with a slight wave once you’re there. Penguin leans forward enough for you to release him and lay on his bed, scooting towards the edge to give him space to join you once he’s laid your blanket out over you again. He joins you as soon as he’s gotten enough of the others to quiet down, letting you wrap your arms around his middle while he does the sane to your shoulders, kissing your forehead and tucking your head under his chin.

“Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Of course~” Penguin sighs contently while you bury your face in his chest, you really do just make him so happy, “I’ll always come find you.”

“Love you, Peng.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

You’re asleep quickly, Penguin stays awake and watches you for a few moments, while more lights are shut off in the room and a few of the other men snicker over how whipped they believe their older comrade is for you. He doesn’t pay them any mind really, he just loves you enough to take care of you however you need. For a second, he looks to his nightstand and remembers the small box he picked up a few days ago, smiling to himself at the thought of finally, finally, asking you to marry him once he talks to Law about it, but that’s for another day as he starts to drift to sleep.

Definitely gonna marry you soon.

+!+

“You’re finally going to ask her??”

Penguin nods with a shy smile while Shachi and Ikkaku both grin, her letting go of his arm to give their older crewmate a tight hug.

“That’s so wonderful, Penguin! She’s definitely going to say yes!”

“You think so…?”

“Dude,” Shachi pats his friend’s shoulder roughly, making Penguin look at him, “She’s been with you for almost ten years now, right? There’s no way she’ll say no.”

Ikkaku nods in response, still grinning brightly at the thought of you and Penguin getting married at last. She’s the one that’s heard your wishes for a small wedding with him, if he ever wanted it, you were waiting for Penguin to make the move and ask. You told her you were content just dating him, but actually tying the knot had been on your mind more recently.

“She’ll for sure say yes. She’s told me how much she wants to marry you!”

That causes Penguin to blush slightly, still smiling as he scratches at his cheek before pulling the small box in his pocket out to show your two friends the ring he’d already picked out for you. Ikkaku snatches the box and opens it, swooning a little over the simple ring he'd picked out. A thin silver band with your birthstone fixed on it, exactly what you’d told her was one of your options for a ring, Penguin must’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it since Ikkaku hadn’t told him a thing about your wants. Either that or he’d seen in a magazine or maybe even asked Law about it, considering how close you were to your captain.

“When are you going to ask her?”

“Our tenth anniversary is in a few weeks,” Penguin nods while he takes the ring box back from Ikkaku, quickly slipping it back into his pocket and checking to make sure you haven’t snuck in, “So, I’m going to ask Captain if we can dock at an island then. I’ll find a place to take her to dinner and ask her after that.”

Ikkaku nearly swoons again, instead sighing dreamily and leaning on Shachi’s shoulder.

“That’s so romantic…why aren’t you like that?”

“I’m sorry, am I your boyfriend? I thought we just friends with benefits.”

“Excuse me?!”

Penguin sighs, still with a smile, as Shachi and Ikkaku start to argue. He’s beyond thankful the two of you don’t have such issues after being together so long. If you two fought like that, there’s probably no way he’d even consider marrying you, he thinks. He loves you too much to screw around with other women, to argue with you about it too. No one else compares and he’s sure some would say he’s crazy for having settled on you at just nineteen-years-old, but he doesn’t care.

“Hey, Peng~” he’s not even a little surprised at you coming up behind him, slipping your arms around his middle and making him smile as he looks over his shoulder and down at you, “What’re they arguing about now?”

“Ah…just if they’re a couple or just friends with benefits.”

“Hmm…” You watch the other allegedly lovely couple of the Heart Pirates, before shrugging. “Would be easier if they’d just settle down with each other already, yeah? Like you and me.”

He can’t wait to finally make you his bride.

Nodding, Penguin keeps the smile on his face, setting one of his hands on yours, and realizing how excited he really is to ask you to marry him in a few weeks. How glad he is that he and Shachi found you on your home island twelve years ago, and helped you convince Law to let you join. How happy it makes him to think about his long past confession and your reciprocation of his feelings.

“Yeah. Like you and me, sweetheart.”

He can’t wait to finally make you his bride.

#one piece #penguin x reader #penguin op #op penguin #op penguin x reader #x reader #reader insert #one piece x reader #its been so long since I've posted a fanfic here #I'm scared haha #fem!reader #found you!

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mishtiikrishna · 16 days ago

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14.06.2030

Friday

23:45

remember how I mentioned I need to visit amma and acha soon and help them clear out for their marriage anniversary? I did go there and there's so much of everything here. clothes, utensils not in use anymore, paintings long forgotten, books from another time (I'm pretty sure the oldest book is 20 years old here oh my), dust (yes I'm sneezing pretty badly as I write this, thank god no blood this time) and old tech (u know how much I love them).

I wonder how acha didn't bother to clean this place up since he's such a clean freak. maybe it's because he's getting old. ok this is an existential crisis for another time, we'll go over it later (preferably never.)

so getting back to old tech. u remember the old attic? where i used to live half the time cuz of the interesting stuff there? now there's more interesting stuff cuz no one cleans up this place. anyway in this room there's the iPhone 3g (it's as old as me!!), 2-3 iPads that're so much immersed in dust and what not they're unrecognisable now, some laptops (mostly running windows 11 i reckon), a television (????) and ....wait.

there's this black desktop computer. that's cleaner than other stuff here. well u know how curious I tend to get with all this, right? i turn it on after plugging it in half expecting it to not do anything but it does turn on. interesting, right? i thought so too. this desktop computer runs windows 11 (very old stuff haha) and I get in through the login page. why's there no password???? who was using this last?? was it tanvi?? i'm pretty sure it was. I remember her mentioning she used it for her college applications a while ago.

anyway I get past the login screen and there's nothing on the desktop screen. weird. the taskbar is set to automatically hide so no taskbar in sight, and it's a dark greyish wallpaper..which is a bit unsettling to say, the least.

I decided to explore this pc. oh god I haven't used this thing in YEARS. like the last time i used it was in like 2023 lmao for my 10th boards.

no internet on this device, not surprising. i go into the file explorer next and there's only one text file named 'mishti' and last edited on '19.05.2025'. that's my 18th birthday. how odd. there's nothing else. nothing in the downloads folder, nothing in the 'This PC' tab, just this one file in the documents folder. I open it and this is what it says:

subject name: mishti krishna subject's age when this file is opened: 23 and one month old

subject's education status: just completed MSc integrated in Mathematics and Computing subject's martial status: single, never dated

subject's job: editor of the 'vellichor magazine' since age 19. currently hunting for a stable job with her degree

notes:

subject got diagnosed with diabetes type 2 at the age of 20. lost touch with all of her cousins..subject doesn't remember their names anymore. subject is a great cook even now, as predicted.

oh god. what the fuck. yes that was my first reaction. I immediately checked when was this pc last turned on and it was 20.07.2025 for like 2 hours all youtube videos. after this thing was never turned on. so, my question is, what the fuck is this. this text file predicted (?) my future to a T. yes I was 23 and a month old while opening this file, yes I completed my integrated course like just a week ago, yes I never dated but that's common knowledge even in 2025, yes I'm an editor at said literary club, yes I'm a diabetic, and also a great cook, what the hell. also what cousins???? do I have them???

also what the hell is up with the 'subject' reference????? am i panicking enough. am i not panicking enough. what in the seven worlds of hell.

I just shut the system down after taking a picture of said file and went down and acted normal ofc. have never told anyone this and will never tell anyone about this.

the pc was last used by tanvi when I asked amma and acha....and no one else really bothered with it.

so my question to tanvi is: little sister dear, are u a time traveler?!

if yes, am I ur subject???

what am I getting subjected to???

dear diary,

bye for now.

notes: diary writing. this is how I usually write my diaries so it decided to carry over. also I modified the 90s PC to 10s or 20s PC to better fit my imagination. thanks for reading 🙌🏻

#writing #mishti writes #writing prompt #writers on tumblr #prompted writing #horror #implied time travel

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solaceintimeandspace · 8 months ago

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the journal

i've been bullet journaling in an a5 leuchtturm1917 for 4 years now. i feel very happy with the system i put in place, and i've taken to decorating it heavily this past year. i have a basic calendar view, with a direction of notes that doesn't make sense. i often repeat what i've written in my weekly spreads here, but it gives me a a nice overview of the whole month. i do feel and organise myself in months, so this is the best layout for me.

i track 25 habits because i don't want to lose sight of what i'm doing, i track what i eat because i don't want to be mistaken about what i consume, i track how im feeling because i know i will forget.

i also list my "commonplacing" entries, they're simply what i write down in my book where everything goes. this list does not include the more visceral stuff that i sometimes purge in a mess book that's structured like a puzzle. these writings are on my archive though. i also keep short overviews of what happened during the day.

i also track what i listen to, watch and read, who i have talked to, what i was interested in, and good things. at the end of the month, i write a retrospective, trying to look back on what i did and what consequences it has on present me going into the new month.

my week layouts are used for planning, but mainly archiving and quick journaling, so i don't forget. i decorate them with pictures that spoke to me as they help me anchor what i wrote with an image i will remember, even if it has nothing to do with the events i write about.

i've bought an a5 hobonichi cousin for next year, and it worries me somehow. i want to commonplace and journal in the a5, making it an archive of sorts -- but i know it's going to be difficult to get used to this new structure and system. i will likely end up buying a new leuchtturm but this time with grid paper. if anyone else is worried about getting comfortable in a new book next year, i'm with you, *please give me your tips, i will die*.

bonus: i use the hobonichi cover i bought for my cousin, and i fill it up with little pictures. i put them together from my pinterest boards and then print them out at a print shop. i should buy a printer, but these days i'm short on money. i just use them for personal use, so i don't reference them, but maybe i should if i take pictures of my pages and post them here? i'm not sure.

anyway, this was my neverending rambling about my journaling system. if you have questions or comments please fire away. i'll likely make a post about what months are what color to me and show you some other spreads from other months that i liked soon.

cheers ✸

#journaling #bullet journal #habit tracking #leuchtturm1917 #hobonichi #notebook

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strawwritesfic · 11 months ago

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Joel x Female!Amputee!Reader: (Don't) Hold Your Breath [Ch. 3]

Summary: You’ve made a lot of monumental mistakes in your life. Cutting your arm off isn’t even at the top of the list. Now you’re about to learn a lot of life lessons at the hands of your savior and her brute of a guardian–and they’re not about to let you learn them the easy way either.

Challenge: "#32 in His Rulebook" by Edible Heart Monster on Lunaescence Archives

Rating/Warnings/Tags: M (post-The Last of Us; excessive swearing; sexual references; violence against children; infected children; references to abortion; references to cannibalism; references to starvation; references to riots; implied domestic abuse; implied grooming; implied sexual relationship between an adult and a minor; death of a parent; violence; gore; blood; gun use; ableism; amputee!Reader; enemies to lovers; not canon compliant)

Pairings/Relationships: Joel/Female!Reader; Tommy/Maria; Reader/Male!OC; Ellie & Reader; Ellie & Joel; Ellie & Maria & Tommy

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Master List (with important note!)

Rule Number #3: Try not to get yourself killed. God, are you that stupid?

It soon became clear that despite her situation, Ellie was anything but depressed. Your first day behind on her on the back of Callus Two showed you that much. You found balancing with only one arm no easy feat, and she wouldn’t quit harping on your struggles. But during the long spaces of time wherein you hadn’t had to grip her desperately to stay upright, she chattered like conversation was going out of style—which, you supposed, it had.

Ellie seemed happy to ramble on about just about anything, so long as she had a captive audience. Before her endless stream of nonsense paused around noon so that she could follow a deer trail she spotted, you’d heard Ellie’s views on everything from descriptions of her last hunt to a summary of the last comic book she’d found. You listened with just about as bored an expression as you could manage. Why the fuck did she think you cared about her life? But she was the one driving, so there wasn’t much you could do. At least it looked like her nattering at you for hours on end appeased Joel, who you could have sworn you caught almost smiling once or twice.

When no one was willing to listen, she whistled. When she wasn’t allowed to do that, she read. It seemed an awful waste of pack space to let her bring magazines, and that on top of all the talking she did made you wonder why Joel had even brought her along at all. Surely the damn kid was just a liability. But whenever Joel was awake—which was, admittedly, most of the time—he glared at you every fucking time you threatened her. Hell, he even seemed to orient himself around her, like she was his sun, the entire damn center of his universe.

But you still couldn’t figure out exactly what the fuck the two of them were doing. You didn’t just drag children into those kinds of situations, not unless you were trying to repay some debt, or at least trying to look like you were. But Joel and Ellie knew each other—what was more, they seemed to like each other. Ellie called him “Joel” happily, not like a kid trying distance itself from a shitty parent. Besides, Joel was way too old to be her dad. But then, he didn’t act much like he had around girls that age.

So what did Joel gain from keeping Ellie around?

“Anyway, after that, it was a pretty simple job of untying the knot. Boy, Joel sure was lucky to have me around for that. Not that he thanked me for that rescue either.”

“Kid,” you said, not bothering to keep the haggard note from your voice. “Do you ever shut up? How the fuck haven’t you got you and your friend turned into fucking Clicker chow by now?”

“Because,” Joel said testily as his horse clopped up beside Callus Two, “she can actually take care of herself, and knows to keep her fucking voice down.”

Instead of bothering to respond to him, you glowered. Joel was, as of that moment, an unknown. He barely spoke unless he wanted to tell Ellie what a mistake you were. During those times Ellie had run off to chase after rabbits and left you alone with Joel, it seemed pretty obvious that he had to restrain himself from shooting you.

“Keep it up, Ellie,” he added with a nod in her direction.

“Oh, we have a guest party member that Joel doesn’t like, so I get free rein to do whatever I want?” She beamed. “I’m going to have to adopt people more often!”

“Don’t even think about it.”

With another scowl in your direction, Joel picked up Shadowfax’s reins, and the horses started to move again. You let a long breath of air out of your nose as you looked around. The forest was starting to thin. Judging by the direction your troop had been moving the past day and a half, you were now farther west than you’d started. What that meant, you had no idea. It was not as though state lines meant anything those days.

But it did mean that you were getting sick of traveling with Ellie and Joel. Owing Ellie so much was just another bur under your skin. As you stared around, you leaned farther back from her, farther and farther, until you could only see the sky.

The horse below you whinnied. That was the only warning you had. The very next second, it reared. Your arm scrabbled around Ellie; your breath came fast in your ears, but you certainly hadn’t regained any of your missing balance. Before the horse had even thought of setting its hooves back on the ground, you fell backwards, landing on your back with a single, loud expletive.

“See, now,” came Joel’s voice from somewhere above you. “Ellie would have known not to shout at something as simple as falling off a fucking horse.”

“Fuck you,” you growled as you sat up.

Your head spun, but through that haze you could see that Joel had stopped his horse right in front of Ellie’s. He stood on the ground while Ellie, still perched atop Callus Two, looked irritably between the two of you. Her expression changed when she caught yours, swiftly rearranging into one of vague concern.

“It was time to dismount anyway,” she said hastily, as though this fact would somehow make you feel less shitty.

In a trice, she had got her two feet back on the ground. As much as you loathed the idea of following either of them anywhere, your only other option was sticking around the edge of the forest, waiting to be eaten. You stood and attempted to appear haughtily unconcerned as you took several steps past them.

“Why bother with the horses if you can’t ride them all the way?” you asked over your shoulder.

“That’s none of your business,” said Joel, but Ellie ignored him:

“Safety precaution. We still have to get identified before they’ll let us, and we don’t want the horses shot out from under us while we’re too far away.”

“So we’re almost there?” you asked.

“Yeah, it’s that right there.” Ellie gestured to a building in the distance while she stroked Callus Two’s nose with her other hand.

“That’s a power plant.”

“And that’s where we live.”

Well, by then you’d seen plenty of other stupid-ass ideas. You supposed living in a power plant was one of the better ones at least. Ellie interrupted your staring by wordlessly holding out a trio of dead rabbits. Although the ends of your mouth pressed down, you took them just as silently, then went back to looking while the rest of the meat got divided up between her and Joel for transportation. Whatever Ellie had said to the contrary, her community didn’t look like much—not enough to give up your freedom for, at any rate.

“Ellie, I’m telling you, this is a bad idea.”

As usual, Joel didn’t bother to keep his voice down when he spoke about how much he didn’t want you there. Not that you could blame him. If it wasn’t for the fact that Ellie had taken your gun (“until you can show me you can use it responsibly”), you would have shot them. If it wasn’t for the fact you were pretty sure even the fucking teenager could wrestle you to the ground, you would have stabbed them with the knife Ellie kept lending you. Because that would have meant you didn’t need them. Joel had you pegged much better than the kid, which couldn’t have been more apparent than when she whispered back:

“No, it’s not. She hasn’t hurt us.”

“Because she can’t.”

“So, what were we supposed to do? Just leave here there to die?”

“Ideally.”

“Well, you know what, Joel? I—”

“You owe it to the world. Yeah, I know. Would you reel in the Messiah delusion for ten seconds? We don’t even know her name!”

Whatever Ellie’s response to that was, you lost it. Even just standing there exhausted you. If there was food and shelter and—most importantly—a break from Ellie’s voice ahead, you weren’t going to wait around to find it. Maybe the rabbits would provide you with enough of a toll to pay your way inside. Who was going to believe that she killed them anyhow? Fifteen-year-olds weren’t taught how to hunt small game.

The ground beneath your feet slanted downwards. The tilt, combined with the remaining after-effects of chopping off an arm, had you stumbling forward. But at least you were moving, without a horse or Ellie or Joel to carry you. You certainly hadn’t been capable of that much the day before. Maybe you would only have to stay a night! Then you could give Ellie her knife back, show her that you weren’t someone to trifle with, and then disappear again. After all, you’d already learned the hard way that civilization didn’t always engender civility.

Something ahead gleamed in the sunlight, causing your awkward loping to come to a halt. Your eyes flicked up toward the gate ahead. Surely they got stragglers out in the middle of nowhere like this. If anything, hunters would want to cut through just to see if they could collect anything useful. You did not, however, want to appear to be a threat. Getting shot through with bullets so close to relative safety would not be conducive to your plans to survive.

The gleaming got closer, then materialized into a chain-link fence. It didn’t look new, exactly, but someone had obviously gone to the trouble of scraping off some of the rust. A low humming emitted from the metal. Confused, you stepped closer still, hand outstretched—

—only to feel someone else’s massive hand clutch the back of your jacket right before they threw you forcefully to the ground. Stars popped across your vision, but not so distractingly that you couldn’t hear Joel’s angry snap:

“Are you trying to get yourself killed? Are you really that fucking stupid?”

Your face twisted once more into scowl, though you didn’t bother to sit up that time. Pain rocketed up and down your spine. If your missing arm didn’t kill you, the broken back Joel was going to give you fucking would. Be that as it may, your constant angry reaction to things only seemed to be giving you a reputation for not having any fucking clue how to live on your own. You didn’t even want to look at Joel. Giving him the satisfaction of seeing how frustrated you were would only make things, in your opinion, worse.

Ellie stepped into your field of vision, her eyebrows raised. “It’s electrified,” she explained.

That got you sitting up again. “No fucking way!” you said, almost too impressed to work in your regular note of sarcasm.

Without missing a beat, Ellie bent, plucked a piece of grass from the near-barren dirt, and then poked it at the fence. A spark shot up. A moment later, she held the blackened stub of vegetation out toward you.

You could not help widening your eyes. “You guys have electricity?”

“Most of us aren’t stupid enough to walk straight into the fence,” Joel said. “But if you’re all that keen to die, go ahead. Save me the fucking trouble.”

“What the fuck did I do to you, bastard?” you demanded hotly, mostly to cover the cold rushing through your veins at the thought of how close you had come to being fried. You weren’t about to tell fucking Joel thanks for saving your life, though.

He opened his mouth to reply, but he didn’t have the time to do so before two figures walking across the grass towards captured your group’s attention.

“Hey there, Joel,” a man said as he approached.

The humming, you noted, had stopped. If you weren’t so sore from falling so much, you might have tried to clamber over the gate before anyone could stop you. As it was, you couldn’t, and had to content yourself with observing the newcomers.

“Hey, Tommy,” Joel said shortly.

The other man didn’t look at him. This “Tommy” appeared younger than Joel, much less gray, and had longer hair. Still, his resemblance to Joel was unmistakable, even if the openly fond look he shot Ellie wasn’t similar to any expression you'd seen on Joel's face at all.

Behind Tommy stood a woman with a scowl drawn permanently into the skin around her mouth.

“Hey, Ellie,” Tommy said with a wink in the kid’s direction. “How was the trip?”

“Great!” Ellie grinned. “We got some rabbits.”

All eyes fell upon the rabbits sitting next to your shoes. Perhaps Ellie was afraid of explaining you because she jogged a few steps backward to take Shadowfax’s bridle and added:

“And a deer. A whole fucking deer!”

“That’s great, Ellie!” Tommy said enthusiastically. “Did you get it yourself this time?”

She looked a bit crestfallen at that. “Well…No. But I’ll fucking do it next time, mark my words!”

Tommy laughed and made to open the gate. “I’m sure you will.”

“If there’s a next time,” Joel said.

When you looked at him, his eyes bored into yours. Suddenly, the woman stood in the space Tommy had opened, her gun pointed straight at you.

“Is she a problem?” she asked, her voice cold.

Tommy frowned at you, but made no attempt to prevent the woman from shooting you.

“Yes, I’m a fucking problem,” you answered hotly. “I—”

“We brought a friend!” she cried into the tense silence.

You scowled more deeply still at the “friend” comment, but if it got you past the electric fence, you’d forgive it. After all, you hadn’t eaten since the day before your disaster of a hunting trip.

“Ellie brought a friend,” Joel grumbled.

Neither Tommy nor the woman moved. Ellie took a deep, shaky breath, then tugged you to your feet and forward. Their eyes fell upon your stump, then quickly shifted back to Ellie’s face.

“She’s hurt,” she said. “She can’t make it on her own.”

“I—”

“Shut up,” Ellie muttered.

Tommy and the woman’s eyes met, then Tommy shrugged. The woman looked just as happy about the situation as Joel did, but she took a step back before stuffing her pistol back into her halter. Joel shoved past you, and even Ellie was quick to take off after him. With your heart pounding in your throat, you snatched up the rabbits.

Although he did not smile, his voice remained casual as he made to lead you down to the power plant with only a soft, “Welcome to Jackson.”

With one final second look over your shoulder, you stepped past Tommy into Joel and Ellie’s mysteriously self-governing settlement. You wondered if it was the last time you'd ever breathe free air.

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seri-tonin · 8 months ago

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BSD Chapter 119 Analysis

Bookmarks, dimensions, minkowski spaces... what the fuck does it all mean?? This chapter dumped a whole lot of information on us without really answering any of our questions, so this is my attempt to hopefully break some of it down for you and explain my theories on it.

Everything under the cut cause I wrote a whole ass essay

The Tiger is a Bookmark?

This chapter started off strong by giving us what's probably one of the more confusing concepts in the series (which is saying a lot...). Fyodor finally gave some hints as to the true nature of the tiger, but he did it in the most cryptic way possible.

I have a few theories in mind for what he could've meant by this. My immediate thought ties back to the fact that the tiger is considered to be a "guide" to the book. It's something we've known for awhile, but from the beginning we've assumed that that means it's a guide to finding the book itself. However, comparing the tiger to a bookmark - something that helps you know where you are in a book - makes me think that the tiger might be a guide in the sense that it can navigate between the different worlds that we know exist within the book, such as the Beast universe.

The second theory that I came up with is that maybe the tiger functions as some sort of anchor. A bookmark holds your place in a book, so the tiger "holds" the world and keeps it where it's at. (This is honestly the weakest theory of the three but I figured I'd include it anyways)

And my friend (shout-out to @musical-ghostie) came up with the third theory, that Fyodor's breaking the fourth wall right now. When he refers to the tiger as the bookmark, he could be talking about the fact that he's the protagonist, the one we experience the story through, or (similar to my first theory) the audience's guide to this world. This would also explain why Fyodor was so disgusted by the fact that it's Atsushi who has the tiger ability. Atsushi, who's selfish and pathetic and nothing like how you'd imagine a typical protagonist to be (this is not a diss at all on Atsushi's character by the way, I love the fact that he's written like this). I'm particularly attached to this interpretation, because it would fit so well with my "Asagiri is a character and god and the creator of the book" theory, but I'm not gonna get into that here (maybe it'll get it's own post sometime).

This theory is also backed up by this panel where Fyodor describes the tiger as the "emotional hearth" of the world, which would make sense if he was referring to the fact that Atsushi, as the protagonist, is the main aspect of the story that keeps the audience emotionally invested - because we're the most connected to his emotions specifically.

Ame-no-gozen and Minkowski Space

Shout-out to Bungou Stray Dogs for being the only series that I love enough that I'm willing to research an advanced physics concept just to be able to understand the story a bit better.

In this chapter, Fyodor gives us this explanation on how the divine being functions the way it does:

That's... pretty confusing, isn't it? So, I did a little bit of research into what a Minkowski space is, and here's my understanding: it's essentially a theoretical plane where time functions the same as space. Basically, the divine being is able to go wherever it wants in time, forward and backwards, instead of being stuck only ever going forward in time at the same consistent rate like the rest of us. (Disclaimer: I have never taken a physics class in my life, so my interpretation of what a Minkowski space is could be way off. Feel free to tell me in the notes if you know!!)

That said, I don't think the extent of ame-no-gozen's power is just being able to freely move through space and time, but I think it's also able to manipulate the (metaphorical) shape that space and time take. Fyodor even specifically refers to it as manipulating space in this panel:

He only refers to space in this panel, but I think it's safe to assume that the being has the same power over time, since it's able to interact with time in the same way that it interacts with space.

Parallels to Chapter 4

I'm sure we all recognized the reference to Akutagawa's iconic "Fear death. Fear slaughter" speech he gives when he's first introduced. This of course made me go back and reread chapter four, where he gives the original speech, and I noticed another parallel that I hadn't thought of immediately.

In chapter four, Akutagawa tells Atsushi in no uncertain terms that it is his fault that his colleagues, Junichiro and Naomi, are presumably dead. He explains to him that they were targeted because of the fact that Atsushi possesses the power of the tiger, and therefore he was the one who brought suffering to them.

Now some of what Fyodor said in the newest chapter is starting to sound really familiar... In this chapter, Fyodor tells Atsushi almost the exact same thing. That his friends are presumably dead and it's his fault, because he has the power of the tiger and could've prevented it.

I would be willing to chalk this up to just both being villains targeting Atsushi's insecurities and not really a parallel, if it weren't for the fact that chapter four gets much more explicitly referenced later in this chapter with the whole "fear death, fear slaughter" thing. Chapter four being referenced multiple times makes me believe it's intentional. I have a feeling that either Atsushi or Akutagawa (or both) will soon have a moment that really displays how much they've grown since their first meeting in chapter four, which is why it's being referenced now.

Other Thoughts + Conclusion

I'm sure if you're reading this, you were probably hoping I'd have something to say about Akutagawa's appearance, but honestly I can't say I have anything that hasn't been said by someone else already. Currently I'm leaning towards the theory that he's still under Bram's influence to some extent. Although, I also like the possibility that's been pointed out that maybe he does actually recognize Atsushi, but is just being dramatic and metaphorical and trying to tell him that he's not acting like the Atsushi he's come to know. I don't think this one is super likely, but it would be in-character for Akutagawa for sure.

Uhh but yeah, I think that's all the thoughts I have right now, but I'd love it if anyone wants to discuss some of this with me! Thank you so much for reading all this if you got this far, I hope it makes enough sense...

#spent like two whole hours writing this instead of working on midterms please read and reblog it ToT #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd 119 #bsd chapter 119 #analysis #seri speaks

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xstargirlslutx · 1 year ago

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Cock Warming || Theo Nott

Day 5 of Kinkmas

Kinkmas Masterlist

TW: grinding, slight exhibitionism, teasing, use of y/n, public sex, rough riding

Words: 1,171

You were sitting on Theo's lap in the common room, visiting with Pansy who sat adjacent on the other couch. Theo was reading a book, hardly paying attention to the conversation you two were having.

For a while, you and Pansy were just talking about school and the upcoming O.W.L.S., until she switched the topic and made you laugh. You shifted slightly as you giggled and repositioned yourself to be more comfortable.

You heard a heavy exhale behind you but it no mind, you were too busy laughing anyway.

"Oh Y/n, we really need to get the whole group together again, go out for butterbeers or something."

"Oh I know! We've all been so busy studying for the o.w.l.s., I've barely had time to do anything."

"Other than snogging Th-" You cough loudly,

"None of that either, mind you." Pansy smirked,

"Well you need to fix that then. Might help.. take the stress off before exams."

"You're talking as if I'm not here," Theo mumbled.

"That's because you're supposed to be reading obliviously since you insisted on staying with me all night."

"Note taken." He laughed,

"I think I'll run to the restroom real quick, before I piss myself." Pansy said, still laughing. She winked at you and walked down the hall.

As soon as she had disappeared Theo marked his place in his book and set it down on the couch.

"Maybe she's right darling.. It's been far too long."

"We've been far too busy."

"Well I'm here now." You shifted yourself to look at him better, he stifled a groan, "-Bella, you've got to stop doing that."

"Doing what?" You smirked, and he blew out from his mouth,

"Stay quiet."

"Wh-" Suddenly, Theo reached his hand down and undid his pants. It was only a matter of moments before he slid your panties to the side and sunk into you. "Ah- Theo-" You bit down on your lip at the lack of warning, "We can't here-"

"We're not." And he was right- technically. He didn't move one bit. Your skirt covered everything that was happening, but it didn't hide your face growing increasingly red. You could barely think straight, feeling so full of him. You missed it after so long, and you couldn't wait to be back up to your room with him later.

Pansy returned shortly after, with Draco, as well. You turned and buried your face in Theo's neck out of embarrassment, yet he was back to reading like nothing was happening. Except this time, he had one arm securely wrapped around your waist.

"Look who I found!" Pansy chimed, "He was doing nothing alone in his room so I thought he could hang out too."

"Perfect." You forced a smile. Immediately as Draco sat down he noticed something was off about you.

"Are you okay, y/n?" He asked,

"-Yes, yes of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I mean, it's a little cold all the way over there, isn't it? Don't you two want to come sit over here by the fire?"

"We're fine." Theo interjected, and Draco smirked knowingly.

"Very well."

"Um, so what do you guys think of that new professor?" Pansy asked, trying to change the subject.

"He's alright, bit of a downer in class though, won't let us talk to our friends until he's done with his lecture."

"Isn't that what most teachers would expect?"

"Maybe, but most of them have given up trying to quiet us down." You all laughed and Theo squeezed your hip. You mumbled an apology to him and reached back to play with his hair. He smiled slightly but kept his attention on the book.

The three of you talked for an hour longer, enjoying catching up after the chaos of the end of the school year. Theodore stayed a bystander, calming reading his book despite your attempts to arose him with your movements.

Eventually Pansy said, "I think I'm going to turn in guys, it's getting pretty late."

"Yea me too, we have an early practice before school tomorrow, I want to be well rested. Don't forget that either mate." Draco said, referring to Theo, almost knowing he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight.

"Well goodnight guys, we need to hang out again soon, after exams." You smiled, and they waved goodnight before exiting the common room.

You glanced around to find there was nobody left except the two of you. "I could fall asleep like this you know? All warm and full.." You had almost forgotten he was still in you, simply feeling complete.

"Oh really? Hm.. well I don't know if I can let that happen yet.. You still need to fix what you did to me earlier."

Heat filled your cheeks once again and you decided to make a bold move. You shifted and spun yourself to face him, not once letting it slip out. "Mm.. Theo, you wanna do it here? We may as well.."

Theo loved it when you were like this, giving him your innocent eyes yet begging for the nastiest things.

"I thought you were embarrassed by this darling, what happened?" He smirked and set his book to the side.

"Shut up-" You rocked your hips back and forth, suddenly desperate for friction.

"Fuck tesoro, you want me to fuck you right here? Where somebody could catch us?"

"I don't care- they're all asleep.."

"So bad.." He gripped both of your hips and wasted no time fucking into you with short but rough thrusts.

"Fuck- Theo- Gods- Ah~" Your words were interrupted by his sporadic movements, hitting your cervix just right.

"Shh.. darling- don't- want to wake- anybody up- now.." Though he preached for you to be quieter, he was slowly coming undone himself, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Mm.. Theo- I'm close."

"Fanculo, bambina, already?"

You whimpered and nodded quickly, and he sped up, slid a hand down under your skirt, and rubbed fast circles on your clit.

You fell apart above him and buried your face into his shoulder to mute the sounds that were bound to fall out of your mouth.

"Mm.. fuck yes-" He moaned and released just after you, only sliding in once more and then staying there.

"Could we- go back up to your dorm?" He asked, and you nodded and began climbing off him, but he pulled you back down onto him.

"Mm, no.." He stood up and you wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping in the same position. "Good girl.."

The two of you made it back to your dorm room, and he laid you both down on the bed, keeping his dick in you the whole time.

"Can we stay like this tonight?" He asked, and you nodded nervously. "It's okay, darling, it'll be good I promise." He reached his hands and unbuttoned your shirt to make you more comfortable. "Just relax and go to sleep.. I know you're tired."

You nuzzled your head into his chest and quickly fell asleep, feeling full of him and as comfortable as ever.

#harry potter #kinkmas #slytherin #slytherin boys #smut #theodore nott

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cryptidfuckery · 2 years ago

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Alex's Guide to Being the Best Ever Client at a Hair Salon

Hi my name is Alex and I've been a hairdresser for about 6 years now. Obviously over that time I've come to learn what things clients do that make me very happy to see, so here's some tips on how to be the best ever client and make your hairdresser love you to pieces!

Also please note that this is coming from a relatively independent hair stylist. My salon does not have a receptionist or assistants, just the stylists. All tips should work across most salons though.

BOOKING AND CONSULTATIONS

When calling or otherwise directly messaging a salon or stylist to book an appointment, KNOW WHEN YOU WANT TO COME IN. If you need to check your schedule, do it before or have it open before you make the call. This will speed up the booking process exponentially!

DON'T BOOK A SMALLER COLOR RPOCESS JUST TO GET IN. If you're booking online, do not choose a color process with less time just to fit in to the stylist's schedule if you actually want a longer process. By this i mean not booking a partial highlight when you actually want a full. We will not be able to accommodate you, and will either have to leave you with the shorter process or reschedule you on another day when we would actually have the time to deliver what you want.

UNDERSTAND THEIR CANCELLATION POLICY. I know they can be annoying, but let me put it this way. When you are booking with a stylist, you're not booking a service, you're booking our TIME so we can provide the service you want. If you cancel last minute or no-show, you are costing us money that we could have made back by booking other clients. Especially on big ticket services that take hours. Cancellation policies allow us to y'know... still make rent.

YOU DON'T NEED TO KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANT... BUT... Part of a stylist's job is to ask the right questions to figure out exactly what you want out of your color, style, or texture. If you don't know exactly what you want, BE READY TO ANSWER QUESTIONS AND MAKE DECISIONS. We are trying to get on the same page as you so you will leave happy.

If you are coming in for a color that is more work than just an all over color or root touch up (aka single process), please do a tiny bit of research into what you'd like. You don't need to know EVERYTHING, but for reference showing a search for "BRUNETTE WITH HIGHLIGHTS" isn't going to narrow it down as much as a search for "DARK BRUNETTE WITH NATURAL WARM HIGHLIGHTS" would. A good stylist should be able to ask the right questions to get down to what you want, but this will make it much easier and quicker.

On that note, DEAR FUCKING LORD WE LOVE PICTURES, SHOW US PICTURES. BRING US YOUR PINTREST BOARD. SHOW US THAT TIKTOK YOU SAW. It's one sure fire way for us to physically see what you're talking about, and a good starting point to then ask qualifying questions with a reference! It doesn't mean we can 100% make it happen, but it helps us get on the same page you're on and see what you're looking to achieve.

Last but not least, research your stylists! Check what they specialize in, see if you can find any of their work posted online. Finding a stylist can sometimes be like finding a therapist, you have to find the one that's right for you (both in personality and technique). Don't feel bad about switching stylists; if your old one kicks a fuss they weren't the right one for you anyway. You deserve to be taken care of by a person you're comfortable with, and who delivers the service you want to your standards.

The hair industry is. Fucking huge. There's so many of us. You can literally call and book a consultation for a cut or color without getting it done that day. You can do that at 5 different salons before deciding. If they get weird about it just say you had a bad experience with an old stylist that you'd rather not get into. There is always options for another stylist.

BEST BEHAVIOR IN THE CHAIR

#1 thing i wish i could tell my clients without being rude: phone goes away for the haircut. Color is more lax, we don't always need your head in a specific position to apply it. Hair cutting completely relies on the position of the head, especially for the perimeter length of your hair. If you are looking down at your phone the whole time, the haircut will not come out as good. We also will be asking you to move to other positions, so we need at least some of your attention. It's also so we as hair stylists aren't having to contort our body into weirder shapes to cut your hair.

To piggyback off that, it's also because of the cape. Best client thing to do is once that cape is on you, make sure it's draped fully over the arms of the chair you're in. We'll take care of the back. The cape is there to protect you from getting hair or color on yourself, but it can't work unless you are completely covered by the cape. Including arms. (I'm looking at the fucking phone again >:( )

When you are in the sink, your nose should be pointing toward the ceiling while you are being washed. This allows us to not drench your face or neck when we are washing your hairline around your face. If your nose isn't pointing toward the ceiling, ask if you are able to readjust.

Best ever tip for in the sink: if the stylist is lifting your head up to rinse the nape of your neck, do not lift your whole neck. Crane your head forward while keeping the base of your neck secure to the sink. This will help you avoid getting water down your back. Your stylist might cup their hand at your nape, just lean back into it like you were a rag doll. We don't want to get you wet, but you gotta trust us with your head at the sink.

If you wanna get an A+ as a client, watch how they fix the chair at the sink for you to get in. The clients that put their own feet up or adjust themself to the right position (after an appointment or two with them) are my loves. my life. yes babe make yourself comfortable, you're doin my job for me.

If you are looking for extra styling past a blowdry (IE: curling iron or flat iron), let us know at the beginning of the service. This can take more time or is an extra charge, so letting us know in advance can allow us to communicate that to you or make sure we have the time to provide the service you want.

And probably my best tip/hack for all my introverted or neurodivergent people nervous about having to keep up small talk. Before or after the consultation, when they inevitably ask how you are or how your day has been, repeat after me: "I've had a really long day/week and I'm looking forward to closing my eyes, relaxing, and being pampered." This will signify that YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK other than what needs to be communicated. If they press, just say work or school has been really hard and stressing you out, so you booked this to relax and have some personal quiet time. Heavy on the relax people. Then just fuckin vibe bro.

If we ever give you our number to text, ask if we cant coffee. Ouughhghgh give us a coffe we love a fucking coffefee. Or ask your stylist what their favorite treat is. Just lil things like that. It's like an extra tip for us!

FINISHING AND PAYING

So your service is done! Make sure you check it out yourself and ask for any adjustments. Remember, you're the one leaving with your hair on your head, and will have to live with it until you return to the salon. If you need something fixed or adjusted, ask! A good stylist will prompt you.

Ask how tips are accepted. You can do it during the service or at checkout, but asking is always appreciated! Not all salons allow you to tip on card, but cash will never be turned away. Venmo is also extremely common.

I work in the USA where a 20% tip is the norm. If you can't afford that, don't worry. If you can't tip at all, don't worry. We don't know you financial situation, and we are in no place to judge that. You still deserve to get the service you want. More often than not if you talk to us about it, we will absolutely be sympathetic. If your stylist kicks a fuss about a tip they get (or don't get), drop them and find someone else.

That being said... yes we like it when you tip more than 20%. Of course we do, it's more money directly to us for doing our job. But I'll be honest with you, I will go out of my way for a kind client i get along with that tips 5% the same way I'll go out of my way for a difficult client who tips 100%.

If you like us, rebook! By having an appointment already in the system you're guaranteeing a time for you to get back in. And if you can't make it, you can cancel it or reschedule. It will help your stylist's rebooking data, which can help them within the salon depending how the business is set up. Sometimes stylists have to reach a certain percentage threshold of rebooking to move up a level of prices or get a higher percentage of commission.

Last but not least, if you're chatting with your stylist after the service, be aware of two things. 1) do they have their next client waiting for them? 2) are you their last client? If either of these are true, try not to linger. We hate having to do the "Well, I've gotta get to my next client/start cleaning up to go home." This can change as you form a deeper relationship with your stylist over the years (sometimes even a friendship!), but please remember that we are at our job.

As of right now that's all I can think of. If I come up with anything else I'll reblog and add on. And please feel free to shoot me an ask if you have a question I didn't answer here, or want to know more about something I mentioned.

But finally I will leave you with this.

Yes, the hair stylist is the expert in hair. Yes, we can give you advice about your style. But here's the thing. When you walk out of the salon door, we aren't the one's dealing with your hair day to day. Even if you don't think you know a lot about hair, YOU ARE THE EXPERT ON THE HAIR ON YOUR HEAD. YOU are the expert on what you do and don't want to look like. We're the tool to get it done. Remember that!

#mmmm been a while since i made a long ass fucking post like this #hope yall like #please ask clarifying questions if you need it!#also yes this is long as fuck #i am nearly incapable of doing anything else when it comes to shit like this #also i barely proofread it so like. idk. good luck

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glutengoblin · 3 months ago

Text

The Tortured Poets Department (Sebastian Sallow x Reader, Incomplete Draft)

Word Count: ~ 1.2k

A/N: LISTEN... has anyone tagged me in that one post that's like "post a snippet of what you've been working on"... well no. (Please do if you want... I got more drafts lol)

But I'm doing that anyway because my writer's block has been insane! I've really been struggling with the fear that everything I write just sucks. It probably does... but also fanfic writing is supposed fun. So I'm just going to post this snippet in my effort to get over my fear of people seeing how terrible my writing is. Because I want to reclaim this as what it should be: Fun.

Anyway... let me know if I should actually continue this. Maybe some an encourage will make me lol.

She hated when he did this.

Through she had a habit of romping through the highlands of Scotland at night during her school days, London on a rainy midnight was a totally different animal.

Looking down at her watch, she willed the tube to move faster. She had told Sebastian she would by there in 15 minutes. It had already been 13 and she still had 2 stops to go.

Her eyes traveled up from her watch and met the gaze of the slimmy stranger who glanced her form up and down. Muttering a few minor curses under her breath, she shot him a threatening look. The man soon looked away -she prided herself on being able to look astutely threatening on short notice.

Finally, her stop arrives and she escaped the underground maze that was the tube.

The rain certainly didn't help her cause as she took of running towards Sebastian's flat, barely making it in time. Glancing around to ensure no one was looking, she used her wand to flick a stone against his window. It took a couple more attempts before his weary form appeared in the window. Opening as one more stone flew up, Sebastian let out a small yelp.

“I get it, you're here. No need to injure a man while he's already down.” He shut the window in his typical uncareful way, and eventually made his way down to u lock the door.

As they entered, she took note that his flat was in a worse state than usual. Sebastian wasn't an overall organized person, but the disarray was bad, even for him. Papers were strewn about the living room, books up to random pages. His candles were almost entirely burnt out, on the last inch of their wick. Even Sebastian cat, Tim, had a disapproving look on his face.

Y/N sighed as she surveyed the damage, eventually bending down to give Tim a good scratch behind the ears.

“Sebastian… why didn't you tell me sooner this time?” He let out a sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he considered how to state it.

“Well, you were out on an assignment, and I didn't want to concern you with it. You know it always gets worse at this time of year.”

The time of year he was referring to was mid-fall. That was when Anne had passed away, around 2 years ago at this point.

After everything that had occured with the tragic event that was Solomon's death, Anne had not spoken to Sebastian for over two years. It tore him up inside- the guilt of killing his uncle and losing the one relative he really cared about had sent him into a spiral. Some days Y/N and Ominis had to take shifts checking on him, bringing food to his room. Other days, he seemed like a perfectly normal Sebastian, full of the charm and easy-nature he was known for.

Though Y/N had been in love with him since 5th year, she realized how truly devoted she was to him during that time. Anyone else would have probably turned away from him, given the events were technically his fault. However, Y/N never could. She saw a scared young boy, who was simply trying to defend himself and his friend.

Eventually, Anne had come to that realization soon had made up with him, shortly after his graduation from Hogwarts. Anne even knocked some sense into him, and convinced him to finally ask (Y/N). Of course she said yes.

However, as soon as he had gotten Anne back, she left him behind again- this time, permanently. The curse was simply too strong. The loss devastated Sebastian, and now he was prone to periodic breakdowns, where the depression would overwhelm him and it would simply become too much.

Y/N had grown accustomed to this routine. Although she was never happy to see Sebastian in such a state, she was always happy to try and help him. However, the frequency of these breakdowns had increased, which worried Y/N - she knew they greatly affected his life and was increasingly worried about his job as an auror. It wasn’t exactly a non-stressful career, and she was concerned with him losing his focus at the worst possible moment.

Pushing her fears aside, she looked up to see that Sebastian had retreated to his bedroom. She followed him, leaning against his doorframe to study his form.

He had sat down at his desk at that point, fiddling with his typewriter, clearly trying to finish the report that was due at the Auror office by Monday. Though typically only quill and parchment worked in wizarding houses, one inventor had recently figured out how to make the muggle technology of a type writer work despite the presence of magic; the innovation had made their jobs significantly faster.

Sebastian crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it against a window. He placed his head in his hands, letting out a frustrated groan. Approaching him cautiously, Y/N began to rub small circles into his back, chiding him to look up at her.

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I’ll always make time for you.” Sebastian looked up to meet her warm eyes, filled with affection. He never quite understood why she stayed with him- she simply was too good for him.

“I love you Y/N.” He stated matter-a-factly, given to him it was a fact. He had loved her deeply since 5th year, but had been too much of a coward to admit it to myself. He cursed himself everyday for waiting so long.

Eventually he stood from the chair, running his hand along her arm. Pulling her smaller frame into his. Her warmth enveloped him in a way that made the crushing weight of his feelings feel less heavy for a moment, a moment he desperately wanted to chase. Thus, he eventually placed a hand under her chin, tilting her gaze up to meet his, before crashing his lips against her’s. Y/N complied, eager to feel the butterflies she felt from his physical affection. Recently, there hadn’t been as much of it to go around.

Sebastian smiled into the kiss, before testing the waters and playing the tip of his tongue against her lips. They opened eagerly, allowing him entrance. As their kiss deepened, Sebastian began to steer them towards the bed, pausing only brush the books that covered it to the floor. Y/N laughed softly, as her knees hit the bed frame, causing her to fall backwards. It wasn’t long before Sebastian was on top of her, pressing her into the mattress and offering eager kisses against her neck. His hands traveled over her frame, repeating his normal ritual of committing her every curve to memory.

Sebastian hated the fact that it had taken them so long to reach this point in their relationship, simply being able to touch him how he wanted. Sometimes, he dared to think it was his fault. But in the dim light that the flooded the room, when she laid there below him, hair spread out like a crown beneath her... he simply couldn't bring himself to think of such depressing thoughts.

#sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x reader fluff #sebastian sallow angst #sebastian sallow x y/n

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finnlongman · 6 months ago

Note

I am so curious about your drafting process, would you be wiling to share a little more about it? I've never come across the idea of completely rewriting from scratch every time, how did you arrive at this as a method that works for you?

I've been writing novels since I was thirteen, so the origin of a lot of my writing processes is somewhat lost to time/memory -- I don't know why I started doing them, only that they either worked or didn't work and the ones that worked stuck around and the ones that didn't... didn't.

I find it difficult to edit within an existing document because it feels like I don't have space to think when all the words are already there. If I open a new document next to the old one and type it out again, I'm more free to move things around, reword them slightly, layer in new details, shift the emphasis etc, without feeling like I have to fit that into the existing framework of sentences that are on the page. If the sentences that are on the page are still working, cool, I'll write them out again. Anything I can't be bothered to type out was probably boring, so that can go, making this a useful strategy for cutting extraneous words and redundant descriptions, too.

The old document is always present when I do this. I don't rewrite from memory or without reference to it. It's just an easier way of refining what I'd put on the page before. And the advantage of this is that the old version always still exists, too. I have never "deleted" a scene, I've simply written a new version of the book that no longer contains that scene. If I want to put it back, I can go and find it, and write it in again.

It's also a lot easier to make major plot changes this way. Sometimes I'll duplicate the old draft and then use tracked changes to move scenes into their new position to see how they'd look -- then I rewrite it and actually make them work in that position. It creates a consistency of voice and style, and makes it easier to avoid continuity issues created by moving things around. And I do tend to make big plot changes and shift things around a lot, partly because I don't tend to plan or outline much in advance and often haven't worked out what I'm trying to do, thematically, until I'm halfway through doing it. A scene that moves from two-thirds of the way through the book to one-third of the way through is going to need to express different characterisation and different aspects of the book's themes, or it'll seem out of place, so it'll need rewriting anyway to make it work, and so will the scenes around it. I can't really imagine a way to edit without large-scale rewrites unless I somehow avoided moving or adding any scenes, which I have never yet avoided!

Consistency of voice and style is especially important when some of my novels have been written over a very long period -- e.g. The Butterfly Assassin was first drafted in 2014 and was published in 2022, and I wrote at least one draft every year for seven years. Any sentence that survived from 2014 to 2022 had been retyped and rewritten half a dozen times to get there -- and there were not many such sentences -- with minor shifts in style and rhythm so that it matched everything around it. If I had edited that book in-document, it would have been much harder to avoid the sense that it was a patchwork of pieces written years apart from each other.

But this need for consistency, and the desire to avoid continuity errors, is also why I tend to write very fast when I do this: I am holding all of the pieces in my head, everything from plot to sentence structure, and it's hard to sustain that for long. For me, writing looks like long periods of thinking and making notes and puzzling over things, and then a frenzied burst of activity where I act on all of the conclusions I've come to, which is why I like to write very quickly and then take several months away to work on other things before I come back to a project.

Academically, I also find this rewriting helpful: I would always prefer to write a new paragraph that makes the point the old one was trying to make but better, than to try to "fix" the old paragraph. It's just a lot more tedious with academic work because of references and quotes and stuff, so I end up copy+pasting more over.

I will say that the first time an editor said, "Can you do this with tracked changes turned on?" and I said, "Ah. Small problem," and explained that I would in fact be writing the whole book again, they were ... somewhat horrified. But they've accepted that the thoroughness with which I rework everything on the page makes it necessary, and I've figured out how to use "compare documents" to create a version that looks like I used tracked changes while not being an absolute headache for me in the process. So then everyone's happy.

#writing #editing #answered #tallangrycockatiel #about the author

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darbyoakana · 9 months ago

Text

An Overlord's Tail - Chapter 6

Summary: Alastor X reader, F/M. The party is quickly approaching. Things with Alastor escalate, violently.

Warnings: Handjob, blood, cannibalism?. This story is 18+, minors can fuck right off.

Other Notes: Song reference - Loneliest Day by System of a Down Movie reference - Tatum's death in Scream (1996)

____________________________________________

Chapter 6: Control

The party was coming up fast and you were diligently planning. Asmodeus was taking a lot off your plate by providing location, security, bar, and food. For that you were grateful. You had collected the guest list and sent out invites. You spent part of the day at Ozzie’s going over the floor plan and working with their stage manager to book some entertainment. Everything seemed to be in order.

Due to it being formal attire, you and Angel went shopping. Angel, of course, picked something very revealing that didn’t quite qualify for formal. But he looked great either way. Angel picked out a form-fitting backless red dress for you.

“Oh my gawwd, that looks amazing on you. Please get this one.”

“I don’t know, this thigh slit is really high.”

“Easy access?”

“Angel…” you scowled.

“Come on, don’t try to tell me yah couldn’t use a good lay?”

“I admit, I could relax a bit,” you took a breath. “But- that's why I just plan on drinking too much.”

“Which will make it easier to tap that. Win-win.”

“You are the wooorrrstttt.”

“Haha I know babe,” he smiled. “But yah getting this one right?”

“Fine, yeah,” you turned around to eye the back. “It does make my ass look great.”

“Hell yah it does.”

“The straps are a little loose though, I’ll see if they’ll alter it,” you pulled the strap back up. “Do you have a date?”

“Nah, I was kinda hopin' Husk would ask me. How about you?”

“No, I’ve been too busy planning to even think about it.”

“What about Tenticles, huh?,” referring to Alastor. “He’s gonna lurk around you all night anyways,” pausing to think. “I dunno those tentacles could be a lot of fun.”

“Oh my god Angel,” you laughed. “I am so glad he is too old to know what hentai is.”

“Ahaha! So you’ve thought about it!” Angel cackled. “You pervvv!”

In truth, you weren’t really sure if Alastor liked you. On one hand, he didn’t give physical attention to anyone like he did with you, though it was small. You did feel he was different around you, to some degree he could drop his shields. But on the other hand, you didn’t expect anything from him sexually. And you weren’t going to push for it, you wouldn’t enjoy it if he wasn’t enjoying it. Maybe he needed time to become more comfortable in the situation. Maybe this was an old-fashioned type of deal. You really didn’t know and didn’t want to assume either. You also weren’t sure if you wanted to jump into another relationship with another boss. It all made you uneasy.

You both returned to the hotel feeling accomplished and excited for the party. Your dress would be delivered later after the straps were adjusted. You had already booked a makeup and hair team to service the staff for the party. The florist had confirmed the order was placed. Everything was coming together.

You headed up to your room for the evening.

____________________________________________

“Hey, Smiles,” Angel called to Alastor who was sitting at the bar. He took a seat. “You gonna ask our girl to be yah date to the party, or what?”

“Pardon?”

“Oh come on. I see the way yah look at her.”

“And how’s that exactly?”

“Like yah want chop her up and put her in a stew. Which I assume is yah idea of romance.”

“Perhaps you should mind your own business.”

“Alright, but someone else is bound to ask her,” Angel remarked. “In fact, I think Lucifer was lookin’ for her earlier… Just sayin’.” He waved his hand dismissively and walked away.

Angel was making it up, Lucifer wasn’t looking for you. But he knew the idea of Lucifer taking you on a date would infuriate Alastor and was trying to motivate him. The idea of asking you himself made him choke. You were becoming a weakness and weaknesses get exploited. This was a passing fancy, he lied to himself, and it would fade.

Tapping his claws on the glass, he grumbled to himself and finished his drink.

For the next few days, things at the hotel were slow and with the party set you didn’t have much to do. You lay on your bed, relaxing, and shopping on your phone for some shoes to match your dress. Music turned up loud as you sang along. “And if you goooo, I wanna go with yooou

And if you diiiie, I wanna die with yoooou

Take your hand and walk awaaaaaaaaay”

The music abruptly stopped.

“A lovely sentiment indeed.”

You looked towards your CD player, there was Alastor with his finger on the pause button.

“My apologies, I knocked,” he explained. “This arrived for you, your party dress I assume.” He hung the garment bag off the door of your wardrobe. “A lovely color,” he eyed the dress.

“Oh, thank you, Angel helped me pick it out.”

“I was wondering. If you aren’t busy, I have an errand to run. I’d like you to accompany me.”

The store was dated and felt like a museum. Smelt like one too. Items from every era cluttered the shelves. You followed him through the store, rows of dimly lit shelves. Despite being cluttered the store was very well organized. Shelves were labeled by decade. Each item had a price tag with a detailed description of its origin. He led you downstairs, the shop seemed to have endless rooms. He paused at a curtained door.

“Close your eyes, please,” he asked, holding out his hand. You complied. He led you through the doorway. “Alright, you may open them.”

You were in a large room with wall-to-wall shelves of VHS movies. You were stunned. They had every film you could think of. It looked a lot like an old video store. You were wide-eyed with excitement. Alastor ate up every nuance change in expression, savoring it.

“This is amaaaazing. Holy shit!” you looked back to Alastor.

“Well, we only had five movies left,” he said smugly. “Would be a shame if we ran out.”

“This is very thoughtful Alastor..”

“Why the surprise? I am certainly capable of it,” he waved his hand.

“I’m not questioning your ability, more your willingness,” you laughed.

“Ouch,” he grabbed his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”

“Uh huh,” you scoffed, laughing. “Where do we even start, there's so many!”

“The owner has agreed to let us borrow what we please. If there's something you desire, purchasing is an option.”

“And he’s doing this out of the kindness of his heart? Or is it the fear you instilled in him?”

“How should I know? I am unaware of his ability for kindness or fear, I couldn’t properly measure.”

“Suuure,” you rolled your eyes. You skimmed the horror section, grabbing a few favorites. Once the stack was too much for you to hold on your own, you called it. “Alright, I think this should suffice. I know it’s not our usual night but we're gonna watch some of these, yah?”

“Of course my dear, I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Upon returning to the hotel you were greeted by Angel and Lucifer at the bar. They encouraged you to join them. The four of you enjoyed a few drinks. Angel talked about some nonsense going on at the studio. Lucifer was exhausted by the latest meeting with Heaven. Everyone seemed excited about the upcoming party.

“So, toots, you got a date yet?” Angel asked you but looked at Alastor. He glared.

“Hasn’t really been a priority,” you commented, also glaring at Angel, knowing exactly what he was doing. “But thanks for your concern… What about you Husk? Do you have a date?” you asked, staring at Angel.

“Uh..” Husk looked from Angel to you and back to Angel, your eyes intensely burning into one another. “Yeah, I’m going to say out of whatever this is…” He held his hands up, backing away from the rest of you.

Lucifer laughed. He’d been enjoying his time at the hotel. Being around so many people was overwhelming. But when it was small groups like this he felt more comfortable. And what was taking place in front of him was too amusing to pass up. Alastor pretending he wasn’t uncomfortable was delectable to Lucifer. He had caught on right away to what the spider was trying to accomplish.

“Oh, hmm,” Lucifer said. “I didn’t even think about that. Maybe I should get a date for the party!” He winked at Angel. Angel smirked back.

“Oh absolutely Your Highness, anyone who anyone is gonna have a plus one,” Angel nudged you. “And I don’t want yah to be a loser, babe.”

“Says he without a date!” you jabbed back.

“What about you Alastor?” Lucifer asked loudly. “Are you taking anyone?”

“Why? Is His Majesty interested?” he sneered. “That’s too bad, I’m afraid I have height requirements.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it! You see, I have this rule about not setting myself up for disappointment.” Lucifer remarked.

“Then, how pray tell, does His Majesty live with himself?” Alastor snarled.

You laid your head on the bar top with a groan. You signaled to Husk you needed another drink.

By the end of the evening, everyone at the bar had a few too many. However, everyone else seemed to be handling it better than you were. No real surprise to either you or Alastor.

You made it up to your floor but tripped getting out of the elevator. The bag of VHSs on your arm clacked as they hit the ground with you. You lay there laughing for a moment until you felt a tug on your hand. Alastor’s shadow wined at you. Alastor was probably already waiting for you in your room. The shadow started to drag you. You couldn’t help but giggle as you were moved down the hall like a sack of laundry. The shadow dropped you in front of your door.

“Really now, is that any way for a lady to behave?” Alastor said, opening your door and stepping out.

He chuckled, picking you up over his shoulder and closing the door with his foot. He tossed you on the bed and proceeded to pull a cassette from the stack and placed it into the player. Taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, he then filled the unwatched drawer with the new movies. You tossed your shoes to the floor.

You enjoyed your secret movie nights with Alastor, it felt like you got to experience a part of him that was just for you. He sat down next to you on the bed, both leaning on the pile of pillows against the headboard.

“Aw man,” you pouted. “I should have made popcorn.”

“Allow me,” he said, snapping his fingers. A bowl appeared in his hand.

“Ohhh yay!” you reached for the bowl as he pulled away from you. You fell, draped over his lap. “Heeeyyyyy…”

“Now now, manners,” he scolded.

You rolled over onto your back, head still on his lap. You looked up at him with sad puppy eyes.

“Please Alastor...”

He shuddered softly. The thought of you begging him sent a chill down his spine. He held his breath and swallowed hard. He resisted the urge to touch you, to see how much more he could make you beg.

“Good girl,” he said, handing you the bowl.

You didn’t get up, just rolled to the side to see the TV with the bowl in your arm. You shared interesting little tidbits about the movie as it progressed.

“This part is so stupid,” you laughed. “She could have totally fit through that doggy door.”

You held up your hand, tilting your arm behind you to offer a few pieces of popcorn to Alastor. He hesitated before eating the kernels from your fingers. Anyone else would be concerned for their phalange's safety, but not you. No one treated Alastor as you did.

Ask her, you ridiculous coward. He fought with himself. He was feeling the stress of his mental dilemma. The fear of having you or not having you. The fear of someone else obtaining you. He glanced at your dress hanging on the wardrobe door.

“And a standard garage motor is weak as shit. Creative yes, realistic no,” you laughed again.

He tried to focus on the movie playing, you had said it was your favorite. But every time you laughed or spoke, he could feel the vibrations of your voice on his leg where you lay. Your warm body against his was too distracting. He wasn’t really there for any of the films anyway. His mind wandered, berating himself. The war between what he wanted and what he feared tore him. Could he have such a weakness present in his life? Not only would it put him at risk but you as well. Could he handle something happening to you because of him?

You adjusted your position. Sitting up, moving from his lap to his chest, leaning more of your body into his. Your head rested below his collarbone. He froze.

“Oh..” you looked up at him, your face close to his. “I’m sorry, I should have asked. Is this okay? Is it too much touching?”

“No, pet. It’s perfectly fine. Thank you for asking,” he wrapped his arm around you and buried his face in your hair. You let out a soft hum at the sensation. He filled his senses with your scent.

Who were you to treat him the way you did? Pampering him with such gentle kindness. Considering his feelings and needs. Why did he allow it? Why did he endure the attitude and snark you so regularly threw at him? He had killed for far less. But you walk around freely. Wearing his appendage no less. Why did he permit you to continue to exist when you posed such an egregious threat? Alastor demanded control at all times. Nevertheless, you took it out of his hands with such ease. No. He wouldn’t allow it, he told himself. It was time to regain dominion over this situation, he had let it go on long enough. He was the Radio Demon, not some whipped feeble boy. You would do as he wanted, not the other way around. His judgment would not be impaired by anyone, how dare you, he fumed.

His right hand clutched your hair and bent your head back, left hand at your throat, jerking your face towards his. His stern expression met your startled eyes with determination. But the tender whimper leaving your mouth as you bit your lip dismantled his resolve instantly. Oh fuck, he thought, as he threw caution and control to the wind. His mouth met yours with a ravaging starvation. Your right hand gripped the wrist at your throat, pulling yourself up to straddle him. Harsh breaths and moans pass from his mouth to yours and back again. The hand on your throat drifted down to your hip, wrapping his arm around your waist with a stern tug. He gripped you tightly against him. You moaned. His tongue aggressively dominated your mouth. Your hands gripped his shirt, despite there being no space between you, the distance was unbearable. The hand still in your hair yanked your head to the side, his mouth traveled down your jaw to the crook of your neck. You ground your pelvis into his, and to both your surprise your movements were met with his pulsing erection, bound by his pants.

Panic started to set in. He felt his self-control slipping. He has had years to master discipline in regards to anger but this was new and uncharted territory. He felt the monster within him stir, craving more. He shoved it down. But with every tilt of your pelvis, the appetite to devour you grew. Desiring to rip the flesh from your bones, savor the taste of your innards sliding down his throat. You ignorant fool, he internally screamed. He had miscalculated once again, of course, you weren’t the threat. He was.

With a radio static growl, he sank his teeth into your shoulder. You cried out in pain but to his astonishment it only made you grind into him harder. You unbuttoned his pants, freeing his throbbing cock. You curled your fingers around his girth and stroked slowly. His teeth tore into you as his hips bucked. Your screams only fueled the beast lingering inside him. Panting, ragged breaths crept out of his mouth into your ears, spattering blood on your neck.

“Fu- uuck… Alastor…” you gasped, wanting him to fuck you stupid. “Please…”

Hearing you plead for him sent him over the edge. A screech of radio static filled the room as he climaxed. His claws cut into your flesh, clawing thick lines of dribbling red across your delicate skin. His neck cracked as his form distorted, eyelids and dial pupils fluttered. Antlers scraped the headboard behind him. Blood dripped from the edges of his mouth, soaking into your shirt, as your palm was filled with warm release.

His back hit the headboard with a thud, breathing hard sharp breaths, and regained clarity. Shaking, he took your face in his hands. Eyes full of trepidation piercing yours. Wanting to say something, anything, but no words came out no matter how hard he tried. He glanced at your gushing wound and with apprehension he watched blood seep out of the puncture marks. Streams of crimson ran down the front of you.

You heard the bath water start to pour into the tub. Lifting you into his arms, he carried you to the bath, gently lowering you into the tub and removing your shirt. He snapped his fingers and a medical kit appeared. He rummaged through it anxiously while you kept pressure on the injury. You sat in silence as the tub filled with orange and pink swirls; water meeting blood. Alastor sutured your wounds.

You could hear how uneven his breath was. His mind clearly working overtime. Did you not feel the danger? It wouldn’t have mattered if you tried to escape, it probably would have made things worse. But the fact that you didn’t even try, that you were content in letting him consume you; it frightened him. If you had not brought him to climax and clear mind, would he have sunk deeper into his inner demon and destroyed you? His hand shook as he pulled the nylon thread through your skin. You placed your hand on his.

“Alastor…” you said gingerly. He didn’t look up. “Alastor, look at me.”

For a moment his eyes fixated on the wound. But slowly traveled up your bruised neck, over your jawline and up to your eyes.

“I’m sorry, my darling…” he leaned his forehead against yours. “I didn’t mean to be so rough.”

“It’s okay,” you squeezed his hand in yours. “Really, it is.”

He washed the blood off you and placed gauze over the stiched-up wound. You changed into fresh clothes while Alastor removed the blood from his hands and face. Usually, when he found himself bloodied, there was a sense of accomplishment and pride. Tonight, however, he felt sick. Exhausted, you laid down in bed. Alastor picked up his coat.

“Where do you think you are going?” you asked, patting the bed next to you. “I’d like to be held please.”

You fell asleep in Alastor’s arms, sore and drained. He nuzzled into your hair. How could you still want him after tonight? A twang of inadequacy deflated his confidence. He didn’t understand, the experience wasn’t exactly fulfilling on your end, just abusive. Yet here you were, permitting him to be close, to touch you.

You awoke in the morning, alone.

#darby oakana #hazbin fanfic #hazbin x reader #alastor x reader

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