#grace. seething. it’s just not fair….

[raven-dor]

I saw your recent Edmund fic and I’m obsessed!

Could you do one where Edmund gets super jealous/overprotective with reader? I love possessive Edmund!

mine all mine

the four times in which edmund discovers that he is overprotective of his wife, and the one time she proves to him she can take care of herself

PAIRING: edmund pevensie x wife!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, overprotective nature, sword fighting, typical Narnia violence, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

AN: This is set during the Golden Age, so all of them are adults!! also your title is fair, as in an adjective for just, not at all a description of what the reader looks like!!

one.

He hadn’t meant to listen in to his wife’s meeting, really. But when he noticed Lord Eluna raising his voice, he couldn’t help but linger outside of the door, his hand on his sword's hilt. Y/N’s constantly calm voice interrupted the seething lord. “While I understand the importance of this situation, it does not warrant you to act poorly towards your queen, Lord Eluna.” 

The man scoffed. “By marriage. A marriage which could be easily annulled, seeing as you have not produced his grace any heirs.” 

Y/N laughed, seemingly not phased by his comment. “We are not in desperate need of any heirs, my lord. If you haven’t noticed, we have a plethora of rulers. Unless you are planning something that would warrant the need of heirs.” She paused, and Edmund could only assume the look on her face, the one she typically made when she was proving him wrong. "Are you?"  

“How dare you insinuate-” 

Edmund forced down a laugh, barging into the room. “My lords.” 

The table of twelve men stood, bowing to their superior. Half hearted ‘Your Grace’s’ were thrown Edmund’s way, but he could not care less. He looked at the man who was still glaring daggers at his wife. “Lord Eluna.” 

“Your Grace.” He tore his eyes from the young queen. “We were just-”

“Yes.” Edmund raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I heard. And while I appreciate your obviously kind and thoughtful concern, my wife and I do not need your advice on that particular matter.” 

Y/N turned bright red, widening her eyes when all the lord's jaws dropped. “Edmund-” 

“I’m sure whatever you were meeting about can be postponed.” Edmund looked around the table, waiting for an answer. “Well?” The lords clambered, nodding quickly in agreement. He smirked and walked over to his wife, holding out his arm for her to hold. “My love.” 

She rolled her eyes but still hooked her arm through his. “You are quite dramatic.” 

He laughed, ignoring the prying eyes around them. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.” The couple walked out the doors, giggling when they knew the lords could no longer hear them. Edmund frowned, rubbing her arm comfortingly. “Do they always treat you so horribly?” 

“You cannot keep doing this, Ed.” She sighed.

“What am I do-” 

She glared at him. “You know what you’re doing. They will never learn to respect me if you keep coming to my defense.” 

“It’s been two years. They should have respected you the minute I married you. Actually-” He scoffed. “They should respect you because it’s the right thing to do.” 

They walked into their chambers, collapsing onto the bed. Edmund wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in as she traced shapes into his chest. “You're a gallant and honorable man, Edmund, much more than your lords. But you know as well as I that those old malcontents will never respect me until I give them a reason to.” 

“I wish it wasn’t so.” He leaned down, kissing her temple. “You are a much better leader than me.” 

She scoffed, leaning into his touch. “Not true.”

“Yes.” He nodded, staring at the ceiling. “You are.” 

“If I am..." She appeased him. "It is only because I’ve watched you and your siblings rule with kindness and justice for so long. Please do not put yourself down for my sake.” She stretched up, kissing him gently. “Never put yourself down; you are too perfect for that.” 

“If you insist.” He smiled, feeling lovesick. How could he not? The most beautiful woman in all of Narnia, or, more accurately, the universe, lay beside him.

Of course, he felt lovesick.

two.

“Happy Birthday, my love.” Y/N smiled mischievously at her husband. “How old are you now? Eighty?” 

He glared, kissing her cheek softly. “What a charmer you are.” 

She nodded and took a deep breath, straightening her dress as they prepared to enter the ballroom. “Well, you didn’t marry me for my baking skills.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Your baking skills are perfectly adequate.” 

She scoffed, looking up at him once more. “Don’t lie to me, Edmund Pevensie.” She fought the smile that threatened to break her act. “You flatter me too much, I think.”

He felt the overwhelming urge to kiss her senselessly. He had that urge constantly, but it was especially difficult at that moment. “You are a true beauty. Have I told you?”

She blushed, turning her face back towards the grand doors. “Behave.” 

He nodded, still looking at her in awe, enjoying the way her flushed cheeks complemented her dress. He had always loved her in the color blue. “Yes, ma’am.” 

The ushers opened the doors, and they stepped forward. “King Edmund the Just, and Queen Y/N the Fair.” 

The room exploded into applause for the Just King, and the pair descended the stairs, focusing on not falling in front of all their subjects. Peter, Susan, and Lucy sat on their thrones at the bottom, smiling brightly. Lucy gestured toward the Maestro, and Edmund led his wife to the middle of the ballroom. “I do wonder what they'll play.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What did you do?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

Y/N's smile grew as their wedding waltz’s familiar intro echoed through the hall. “This isn’t fair.” 

He laughed at the irony. “Why not, my love?” 

“It is your birthday, not our anniversary.” 

He spun her around the room, whispering. “I happen to like this song.” 

“Edmund…” She blushed again. “You should have chosen a song that you love.” 

“I did.” The waltz ended, and he bowed. “It reminds me of you; why wouldn’t I love it?” 

Her eyes were watering, and he suddenly felt horrible, his stomach twisting. “I’m sorry, did I-” 

She leaped up, kissing him soundly. The crowd gasped, but Edmund didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. She leaned back, their foreheads touching. “I don’t deserve you.” 

His heart felt full. “Quite the opposite, really.” He kissed her once more, nuzzling his nose with hers. “I love you.” 

Lucy clapped her hands, pulling the crowd's attention away from the happy couple. “Thank you all so much for attending my brother’s 24th birthday ball!” The room erupted into cheers. Lucy smiled. “Help yourselves to the buffet, or take to the dance floor. Happy Birthday, dear brother.”

The crowd dispersed, and the pair walked up to the thrones, sitting beside each other, still holding hands. Peter muttered, smirking. “Couldn’t have waited until later?” 

Edmund rolled his eyes. “Just because you don’t have a love li-” 

Y/N scolded her husband. “Ed.” 

Peter glared playfully at his brother. “My love life is none of your business, thank you very much.” 

Susan laughed. “How is she?” 

Peter blushed. “She has a name.” He straightened his posture, looking out into the crowd for who Y/N could only assume they were talking about. “As perfect as ever.” 

Lucy giggled. “Have you tried talking to her?” 

Peter closed his eyes, leaning his head back against his throne. “I am getting attacked from all sides, it seems.” 

Y/N smiled. “I think it’s sweet. You seem very in love.” He smiled back, looking longingly at the buffet table, where a gorgeous maid stood handing out desserts. Y/N nudged him lightly. “You could ask her to dance.” 

He laughed, and when he realized his sister in law was not laughing, stopped. “I fear she would not like the fuss.” 

“Ah.” Y/N looked over at the girl again. “I will be right back.” 

Edmund whined. “Where are you off to?” 

“None of your business, Edmund.” She kissed his cheek quickly. “Do have fun at your own birthday party.” 

He sighed as she walked away. “How can I when you’re leaving?” 

The fair queen glided across the floor with the intention of making conversation with the girl the High King was infatuated with. She had almost reached Peter's love when a hand wrapped around her waist. She gasped, pulling herself out of the stranger’s hold. The visibly drunk lord bowed teasingly. “My Lady, would you care-” A hiccup interrupted his question. “Would you care to dance?” 

She smiled politely. “I’m afraid my card is full for the night. But thank you for the offer.” 

The man tried to speak again, but she turned around, walking back towards the maid. 

Edmund had seen the entire interaction, gripping the handles of his throne tight enough to break the solid stone. Peter whispered. “Edmund, don’t do anything rash-” 

“He just-” 

Peter gave him the stare, that older brother stare that he tried to reserve for hard moments. “He will be dealt with, trust me, but you need to be subtle-” 

Edmund stood up, stalking over to the drunken lord. Peter sighed once more. "He will be the first to give me gray hairs.” 

Susan rolled her eyes. “You are twenty-seven, Peter. You’re not graying anytime soon.” 

Edmund grabbed the lord’s arm, dragging him out to the balcony. “A nice night, isn’t it?” 

The lord was in shock, nodding. “Yes, Your Grace.” He grinned. “It is truly an honor to have been invited to your-” 

“It was a nice night.” The young king smiled condescendingly. “Until you harassed my wife.” 

“I-” The old man stuttered. “I meant no disrespect.” 

“Don’t lie to your king.” Edmund seethed. “If you ever do that again, I will rue the day, believe me.” He took a deep breath. “You will apologize to my wife, and after that, you will leave immediately. You are fortunate that I don’t ensure you are barred from the castle grounds.” 

The lord looked upset. Good, Edmund thought, serves him right. “But Your Grace-” 

“Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes.” The old man nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.” He stumbled back into the ballroom, making a beeline for Y/N. Edmund watched from afar, smiling as she smiled, actually genuinely smiled. Then he frowned when she let him kiss her hand. Oh, how he wanted to have him banished. 

Y/N made her way to the balcony, shaking her head at her proud husband. “What have you done?” 

“Nothing. Why do you assume-” 

“Edmund.” She crossed her arms. “You must stop.” 

“What?” He laughed. “Stop protecting you?” 

“Yes!” She yelled, exasperated from his constant watching eye. “I had it handled.” 

“He harassed you.” 

“Thank you Edmund.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, something Edmund did not appreciate at the moment. “I wasn’t aware.” 

“My love.” He stepped forward, taking her hands in his. “As long as there is air in my lungs, I will protect you. It pains me to see you go through these things.” 

She smiled, placing a hand on his cheek. “You are a good man, Edmund.” 

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.” 

“You’re right, I shouldn’t. But if we make a fuss about every lord who gets handsy while they’re drunk, the ballroom will be empty.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Good. Get rid of the whole lot of them. I would rather it just be you and I anyhow.” 

Y/N gasped, smacking his chest lightly. “Edmund!” 

“No one should have to deal with that.” 

“Well, I agree. But you can’t-” 

“Good.” He nodded, ignoring the fact that he just interrupted her. “Who were you talking to after that incident?” 

“Peter’s love.” She smiled. “That girl is quite kind. Spirited, too.” 

Edmund laughed, pulling Y/N in. “Perfect for Peter then.” 

She hummed, leaning her head on his chest as they looked back into the ballroom. “Perfect for Peter.” 

three.

It had been Edmund’s idea to go on an afternoon ride. Y/N had reminded him of the recent attacks that they were investigating, but he’d ignored her. Their horses galloped through the fall woods, leaves falling as they flew through. Phillip muttered. “Her horse is much younger than me, no wonder she keeps beating me.” 

Y/N’s horse, Vilja, laughed. “Perhaps you are simply slow, Phillip.” 

Y/N fought against the laugh that threatened to spill out. “Now Vilja, play nice. Remember, Phillip has to hold Edmund and his ego.” 

Edmund scoffed, shoving his wife playfully as they slowed. “What happened to playing nice?” 

They tied the horses beside each other, walking through the woods leisurely. “It is perfect outside, is it not?” 

Y/N nodded, leaning her head on her husband’s shoulder. “It is.” She smiled as the lantern came into view. “It’s been too long.” 

Edmund hummed. “We’re happy here.” He looked down, his heart beating fast. “You would tell me if you weren't happy, I hope.” 

“Of course, Edmund.” She smiled. “I'm very happy here. I only meant we’ve been here for a long time. After all, it has been thirteen years.” She looked back at the lantern, pulling Edmund along with her. “I wonder how long it’s been there.” 

He laughed, kissing her temple gently. “Who cares?” 

“Edmund…” She leaned into his touch. Feeling mischievous, she pulled out of his hold, sprinting further into the woods. 

Edmund groaned, chasing after her. “This was funnier the first time.” 

The nymphs giggled as they watched the couple run through the woods. Edmund spun in the clearing, squinting as he tried to find his wife. “Y/N, you know I’ll find-” A piercing scream broke the joyful nature of their fun, and his heart sank. “Y/N?” He waited for her response, another scream echoing through the forest. He ran towards her, unsheathing his sword. “Y/N!” He broke through the woods, finding his wife backed against a tree, a wolf growling in front of her. Edmund stood in between them, pointing the sword at the wolf’s head. “We don’t want to harm you.” 

The wolf simply growled. Odd. Edmund whispered. “Stay still, my love.” He stepped forward, addressing the wolf once more. “You have one more chance to leave us. We won’t harm you if you do so, you have my word.”

The wolf leaned back, lunging at Edmund, and he slashed his sword, killing the animal in a single blow. Y/N stood silent behind him, staring at the ground. “I thought all animals spoke in Narnia.” 

“So did I.” Edmund knelt beside it, checking for any witchcraft of any sort. 

Y/N smiled sympathetically, kneeling beside him. “She’s gone.” 

“He was wild. There had to have been-” Edmund was silenced by a gentle kiss. He blushed. “What was that-” She kissed him once more, smiling. 

“Edmund, she is gone. For good. And you saved me.” She mumbled. “Even though I could have reached for my sword-” 

He rolled his eyes, standing up and extending his hand. “Let me guess? You had it handled?” 

four.

She was radiant in that blue dress, Edmund observed from afar. After he had expressed his love of her in the color, she had ensured that almost all her dresses were that light blue. The rest of her dresses were her favorite color, which Edmund loved on her almost as much. 

Unfortunately, others enjoyed looking at his wife as well. Lately, in Edmund’s opinion, her sworn guard had been looking at her for much too long. He was a conventionally attractive man, Edmund could admit, but he didn’t like that the young knight was looking at his wife the way Edmund himself looked at her. 

He hadn’t brought it up to Y/N, not wanting to be called overprotective for the hundredth time. So he watched from afar, making sure that the knight didn’t make any untoward actions towards her. 

They were currently in the garden, and Y/N was smelling the flowers, laughing and making polite conversation with Ser Ellington. The young man laughed back, reaching out to stable her when she stumbled over a root. Edmund clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain calm. 

It was his job after all, to make sure his queen was safe.

But when he reached out and grabbed a flower, extending it to the kind woman, Edmund snapped. That was not his job. He practically stalked forward, interrupting whatever conversation the two had been having. “My love.” He called out. “You look radiant.” 

She blushed. “Edmund, I thought you had your meeting.” 

He nodded. “I did, but we finished early, I thought I would accompany you for the rest of the day.” 

“Of course.” She looked over Edmund’s shoulder at Ser Ellington. “You are excused for the day. Thank you, Ser.” 

The knight bowed. “My Queen. Your Grace.” 

Edmund watched suspiciously as the young knight walked away, only turning back to his wife when he turned the corner. Y/N smirked, tilting her head just so. “You have no need to be jealous, my love.” She turned back to the flowers, smelling them. 

Edmund smiled guiltily, following after her like a puppy. “Can you blame me? Ser Ellington is not exactly unappealing.” 

She nodded, still not looking back at him. “He is. But I am not married to him, nor do I sleep in the same bed as him every night.” Edmund turned bright red. “Am I wrong?” 

“You are not, but you have to understand. You’re a beautiful woman, I can’t help but worry that someone will steal you away.” 

She rolled her eyes, turning around. “Do you really think I would hurt you so?” 

“No-” 

“What have I done to make you assume so? I love you; I made a vow to you.” She crossed her arms. “Am I just a prize to you that you desperately need to cling to?” 

“Of course not.” He grabbed her hands in his. “I’m madly in love with you, and the thought of you leaving me, the simple thought…” He pulled her closer, whispering. “Drives me mad.” 

“Edmund.” She glared, pulling out of his hold. “You are exaggerating.” 

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her gently back to him. “Do you really think I do not love you?” 

“I never said that.” 

He laughed. “You act as if we were not a love match. Like we didn’t discover Narnia together. I love you; I think I have since we were young.” He kissed the back of her hand delicately. “I know that I am too overprotective, and I am sorry for that…” 

She smirked with satisfaction. “Good.” 

“But can you blame me? You are a treasure, surely any other man would act that same way.” 

Y/N nodded. “Perhaps. But you are not any other man. You are Edmund Pevensie, and I know you know deep down that I can handle myself. I do not need you to watch over me like a mother hen.” She raised an eyebrow. “I also fought the White Witch, I also helped you form peace treaties, I also-”

Y/N stopped, becoming more irritable by the second when she realized Edmund wasn’t listening. He stared at her so lovingly it made her sick, and she scoffed. “I am going to the library.” 

He nodded, following after. “I shall accompany you.” 

She shook her head. “I would like to go alone.” 

He frowned. “Are you-” 

“Edmund, please.” She sighed. “I love you, but I need to be alone with my thoughts.” Without a second glance, she walked out of the garden, leaving Edmund helplessly staring at her. 

the time she proved him wrong

They had been gone for too long, Y/N thought as she stared at the woods. They had been gone for hours longer than they said they would. She should have gone with them; who knows where they were, where Edmund was. 

She tried to calm herself down and reminded herself that neither Edmund nor his siblings would leave her in Narnia alone, but it was difficult when all of the hunt’s participants were speaking to her at once. 

“Where are they?” Lord Eluna’s voice sounded over the rest. She tried not to glare at him; she could tell the man was enjoying the sight of her under pressure. 

“I understand everyone’s worries; I have them myself, but we all know that the Kings and Queens would never leave their subjects so suddenly. Have no doubt that they will return. I am certain High King Peter and King Edmund dragged their sisters along a trail of the deer’s tracks.” Light laughter echoed through the crowd, relieving her stress slightly. Her stomach fluttered, and she pressed a hand to it, rubbing it slightly. “Does anyone else have any immediate causes for concern?” 

The crowd erupted into chaos once more, and she took a deep breath, clearing her throat. “I will take meetings with all of you individually in the main tent.” 

meanwhile...

Edmund sighed, staring at his older brother as he tried to convince himself the deer was nearby. “Peter, we’ve been gone for hours. If we haven’t found the deer by now, who’s to say we’ll find it later?” He practically pleaded. “We should return to camp.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Just because you want to get back to your wife-” 

“Peter, Edmund’s right.” Susan interrupted. “This deer isn’t important, and Y/N is there alone with the entirety of the court.” She frowned. “If it were me, I would be rather overwhelmed.” 

Edmund fell into his thoughts, staring at the ground. Lucy whispered, nudging her brother lightly. “Edmund, don’t-” 

Edmund tightened the reigns on Phillip, racing back towards the camp. Peter sighed, riding not far behind him. The dark-haired king didn’t look back; his only thought was that he had left Y/N alone with the egotistical lords of the realm. Phillip slowed, and Edmund jumped off, running towards camp. 

Everything was fine, almost too fine. It was quiet, with a slight buzz of chatter but no worried voices. He stalked toward the main tent, whipping it open. 

There sat his radiant wife, talking calmly with Lord Dolitmov. The older man saw Edmund and immediately stood, bowing. “Your Grace.” He looked back to Y/N, kissing the back of the queen’s hand gently. “Your Grace.” 

Y/N smiled, waving as he walked out of the tent. Edmund tilted his head, smiling. “What happened?” 

She laughed. "The better question would be, what happened with you?” She hugged herself, rubbing her stomach once more. Edmund made a mental note to address that later. “You were gone for so long I assumed you had returned home.” 

He shook his head, frowning as he realized how stressed she had been. “I’m sorry for the worry we caused you; I fear Peter was too fixated on finding the white steed.” 

She nodded. “I wondered.” 

He took her hand in his, rubbing the back with his thumb. “I’m sorry that I worried you. But I must say, it is rather calm here.” 

She smirked. “I told you I can handle myself.” 

He laughed. “I believe you. Truly I do.” he brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back gently. “I love you.” 

“And I you.” She walked into his arms, burying her head in his chest. “I would have died from heartbreak if you had left me.” 

“I would never.” He kissed her temple. “You know that.” 

She nodded. “I know you would never leave us.” 

He nodded back. “Correct. I would never leave-” He paused, tilting his head. “Us?” 

Y/N looked up sheepishly. “I-” Her eyes started to water. “I’m pregnant, Edmund.” 

“What?” Edmund grinned, staring at his wife in disbelief. “Really?” 

She nodded, and Edmund grabbed her waist, spinning her around the room. Y/N cackled, smacking his shoulder. “Put me down; you’re going to hurt the babe.” 

“I’m sorry.” He smiled. “I can’t help it.” 

She laughed, kissing his lips softly. “I love you.” 

Edmund leaned down, kissing her soundly. “And I you.” 

taglist: @beebeechaos

[gyupinkys]

HELP YOU?

SEUNGCHEOL X VERNON X READER

WARNINGS: SLIGHT DUBCON, threesome, unprotected sex, impact play, cuckolding, choking, spit roasting, oral (m&f), spanking, degradation, edging.

WC: 2.6K

Vernon gets Cheol to help you learn some respect.

“Stop with the shit.” Vernon grits out in a whisper.

“Fuck you.” you say with venom in your voice.

Cheol rolls his eyes at you. He knows Vernon undeniably has a soft spot for you, but to let you talk to him like that in front of their colleagues? That’s just unacceptable. He grips your thigh from under the table, making you turn to him.

“Act like you have some sense, yea?” he whispers to you with a raised eyebrow.

Vernon knows you probably want to go home but that’s simply not an option. You have to sit here until business is done, no questions asked. You look at Cheol and then Vernon who's absolutely seething. Not only is his “lovely” girlfriend disrespecting him, but you’re embarrassing him in front of everyone. Cheol knows you aren't acting like this on purpose, you just feel so uncomfortable around these people. The guy sitting across from you is staring straight at your tits, you don’t know why Vernon is making you stay here.

“Y/N, go wait for me outside.” Vernon grits out.

Cheol watches you hesitantly walk outside, feeling all eyes on you.

“Lets resume.” Cheol says.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the meeting ends you’re sitting on a couch outside the private room of the club on your phone.

Cheol walks up to you and grasps your chin, tilting your head up to him. Your eyes widen at this.

“Come with me Y/N.”

He can practically hear your thoughts, presumably wondering where your lovely boyfriend is.

“Don’t worry about him, ok?”

Your eyes widen more, making him chuckle.

“I won’t tell you again, let's go.”

You get up and follow him, calling and texting Vernon to no response. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared of Cheol.

Once in the car you muster up the courage to ask “Where is Vernon?”

“He’s busy, he asked me to take you home.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hear the bedroom door open and close but you can’t take your eyes off Cheol. He’s towering over you and not saying a word. You gulp, fear taking over as you shrink further into the bed. He grabs your chin, tilting your head up.

“Why won’t you listen to him?” Cheol softly asks in his deep voice.

“I do listen to him.” you say breathlessly.

“If you did, we wouldn't be here. Don’t lie to me.” he says with an annoyed sigh. “I’ll ask again, why don’t you listen to him?”

You look behind his shoulder at Vernon, who's now sitting on the armchair in the corner of the room, a smirk gracing his lips

“I like to get him upset.” you whisper.

“You like to get him upset? Well that's no way to treat your man.” he says with a fake pout. “Vernon is so sweet to you and this is how you treat him?” Cheol spits, lightly running his finger down your chest.

“He’s mean to me.” you pout.

“What do you think about that, Vernon?” He speaks without breaking eye contact with you.

“I think she’s ungrateful.” Vernon says, getting up and walking to the bed. “I think I’ve spoiled her. I let her get away with everything without complaints.” he cups your face and continues, “I’m so good to you, yet you want to say I’m mean? Cheol here will show you what being mean looks like.” He places a chaste kiss on your lips and whispers against them. “I don’t want to hear you begging me for help.”

You watch him walk away from you and sit on the chair again until your view is blocked by Cheol again.

“Can’t say I haven’t been waiting for this day to come. I love making pretty girls cry.”

You feel yourself clench on nothing. Your mind is running wild, wondering how they even agreed to this, why vernon is ok with it and what the fuck is about to happen to you.

You open your mouth to speak but Cheol grips your hair tightly.

‘“I don’t want to hear a word out of that bratty little mouth.” he growls.

“Well that's not very fair when all you do is run your mouth.” you snap back.

He chuckles and looks at you with wide eyes. “I’m gonna fucking break you.” he growls.

He drags you down the bed by your hair and pulls you over his lap. You squirm against him, trying to break free from his hold on your hips. You feel a harsh spank against your ass making you pause. Did this motherfucker just spank you? You look at Vernon for help but he’s scrolling through his phone, looking uninterested.

“Don’t act so shocked. Bad girls get punished right?” he snickered.

“You're an asshole.” you grit out, earning you a slap to your other cheek.

“Keep it coming, sweets.” he says with a laugh.

You huff but remain silent, the spanking lowkey damaging your pride. He slowly pulls down your panties, sucking in a deep breath at the string of arousal connecting your panties to your soaking cunt.

“I think you like this more than you’re letting on.”

“It’s not for you.” He punctuates your sentence with another spank, even harder than the last.

He pulls your head back by your hair, looking you in the eye “Keep that mouth shut before I gag you.”

He lets go of your hair and you flop back down, forcing yourself to remain quiet.

He rubs his index finger through your folds, groaning at the wetness. “You always get this wet for other men? I’d think you didn't even like Vernon at this rate.”

“That's not true, I love him.” you say getting pissed off. What is he trying to imply?

He spanks you again, running his fingers over the welts starting to form due to his rings. “You love him? You sure do love another man playing with your pussy though.” he says, pinching your clit making you yelp.

“Stay still. Good girls take what they are given. Unless you want me to stop?”

“No, don't stop.” you groan.

He leans to whisper in your ear, “And you say you love him?”

Tears began to well in your eyes out of frustration. He begins a steady rhythm on your clit, holding your hips down to stop you from moving.

“Such a pretty pussy.” he whispers. “If I wasn't a better man I’d steal you from him. Not before teaching you some manners first.”

He slides a finger inside, feeling your warmth. “So fucking tight too, look at how you’re sucking me in. Too bad I’m gonna ruin this perfect little hole”

He slides a second in once you get loose enough, thrusting in and out at an excruciatingly slow pace. You begin to whine and buck your hips as he purposefully misses your G-spot. “Is there something you want?” he asks in a condescending tone.

You groan, knowing if you speak he’ll spank you. “Didn’t think so.” he says with a laugh, slightly picking up his pace. The tears in your eyes start to fall, feeling your mind and body become conflicted.

“Are you crying? Youre fucking pathetic.” he spits watching you huff in anger. “Is there an issue? “ he laughs. “You’re not telling me what you want, Doll. And you won’t like what happens if I have to guess” he says, smoothing your ass with his free hand.

Is this a trap? He did give you permission to speak right?

“You’re messing with me.” you breathe out anxiously.

“Messing with you?” He wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing tightly. “No, I’m not messing with you. I’m just teaching you a lesson” he spits, spanking you again.

Fuck, you can feel your skin splitting. “That hurts” you whimper.

He spanks you again. “If it hurt that bad you’d shut that slutty little mouth wouldn't you? I think you like this.” he says, pushing you off his lap and onto the bed.

“You want someone to treat you like a whore right? Play with you? Torment you? I’m sure sweet little Vernon doesn't give you what you want right?”

You shake your head No, earning a slap to the face. He squishes your cheeks and pulls your face to his. “What did I say about lying to me?”

“Fuck you.” you grit out.

He chuckles under his breath. “Lay on your back for me.”

You oblige, not wanting to be punished anymore.Your ass is on fire due to you sitting on it but you don’t have it in you to complain, feeling your resolve crumble. He pushes your legs open and kisses down your thighs, sucking and biting into the soft flesh. He pushes your knees to your chest and licks a long stripe up your cunt, both him and Vernon groaning in unison.

“Tastes so good, what a whore like you do to deserve such a sweet pussy?”

He doesn't give you time to gather your thoughts, diving into you making your toes curl. He goes straight for your clit, lightly biting it with his teeth.

“Don’t be scared to moan for me, baby.” he says with a smirk, watching your eyes dart to Vernon.

He doesn't hesitate to add two fingers, aiming directly for the spongy spot deep inside of you.

“Fuck” you groan out, tensing up because you spoke, scared he’ll stop. Thankfully he seems to not have heard you, licking and sucking on your clit and speeding up his fingers. The tension from earlier is hitting you and you can feel the orgasm coming. You clench down on his fingers just to feel them abruptly withdraw from you. You shoot up and look at him with wide eyes.

“Now don’t tell me you were stupid enough to think I’d let you cum.” he says with a laugh.

You huff out a breath and plop down on the bed. “Not so fast, Doll. Get on your knees.” he says, unbuttoning his pants enough to pull his cock out. You scramble to the floor and on your knees, scared about what he'll do if you don’t listen.

“Look at you being a good girl.” he praises and it goes straight to your head. You feel like you’re floating.

You look at his cock and your eyes widen. He’s huge, like a little too big. You thought Vernon had the biggest dick you’ve seen but you’re clearly wrong. You realize you’ve boosted his ego when he smirks. “Don’t look too shocked, doll.”

You roll your eyes earning another slap to the face. “Tongue out.”

You stick your tongue out and he taps the head of his cock against it. He drags his fingers to the base of your throat. “I’m gonna put it all the way down here.” he smirks sadistically. “Get it nice and wet for me. And don’t use your hands, I wanna see you struggle.”

Fucking hell.

You spit directly on his tip and use your lips to spread it around, already getting messy. You suck in a deep breath and start slowly taking in as much as you can. After a few minutes he groans. “I don’t have all fucking day.” he spits and thrusts as deep as he can down your throat making your eyes widen. He pulls out with a laugh watching you cough and attempt to catch your breath.

“Didn’t like that, huh?”

You glare at him but listen when he says to open your mouth again. “Better hold on tight.” he whispers.

He holds your head and slides his cock down your throat, hitting the base like he promised. He begins thrusting, causing spit to gather at the sides of your mouth. You can barely breathe, feeling light headed but too enamored by the sight before you. His dark hair is messy and his face is curled up in pleasure. “Throat feels so fucking good.” he moans out, beginning to batter your throat, cutting off your breath completely. You tighten up on him, running out of air. He pulls out, watching you hunch over and try to catch your breath. You're ruined already, covered in spit, sweat and precum.

“You really are a whore.” Vernon pipes up for the first time in a while. You look at him with a pout, but he has a straight face.

“Focus on me, Doll.” Cheol says, helping you get back on the bed. He puts you on all fours and arches your back. You're staring straight into Vernon’s eyes as Cheol slides in raw. You can’t help the moan you let out, feeling yourself get stretched. He’s hitting all the right spots and you feel your knees getting weak. He pulls out almost all the way and slams back in, launching you forward. “Fucking hell.” he mumbles, gripping your hips tightly and thrusting hard and fast. You can barely catch your breath, the wind knocked out of you everytime he slams into you. You grip the sheets tightly, feeling your wetness leak down your legs. You try to run, but he pulls you back every time, punishing you. You don’t know when you started crying but your face feels wet. You look Vernon in the eye and whimper out his hame.

He stands up and casually walks to the bed.

“What is it, baby? You want me to help you?” he asks, petting your head. “You never listen to me, so why should I help you now?”

You’ve never heard your sweet Vernon sound so sadistic, this is clearly bringing a different side out of him.

“Please.” you cry out, feeling the soreness in your throat.

“How about this? You suck my cock and if I believe you’re sorry I’ll make him let you cum, Ok?”

You nod furiously, reaching for his pants with shaky hands. You rub him from base to tip, squeezing his head.

“Fuck” he moans out quietly.

You spit on his tip watching it leak down. He looks at you pointedly and you get to work, fitting as much as you can into your mouth and stroking the rest with your hand. Cheol’s brutal thrusts send you deeper and deeper into Vernon’s cock but it’s not enough.

“C’mon baby I just saw you do better than that. Take me all the way.”

Cheol puts his hand on the back of your head and pushes you all the way down Vernon’s cock. Your nose grazes his pubic bone and you try to focus on his breathing. Cheol places his hands on your hips again, fucking you onto Vernon’s cock with every thrust. You feel beyond overwhelmed, stuffed full.

“This feel good, baby?” Vernon asks, smoothing his hands down your spine.

You dumbly hum around his cock, unable to think any thoughts.

“Cock got you dumb, Doll?” Cheol asks, angling his hips up in an attempt to push you over the edge. You moan onto Vernon’s cock, the vibrations pushing him over the edge. He pushes in as far as he can, shooting his cum down your throat and pulling out, shooting some on your face. You gasp for air, trying to swallow the remnants of him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum too.” Cheol groans, swiftly pulling out of you and cumming on your face as well. The mixture of spit and cum makes you feel disgusting.

“You look like a fucking slut.” Vernon says, making you pout some more. Your brain feels like it’s turned off. “I didn't get to cum.”

They both look at you like you spoke a foreign language. Cheol grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. “And you aren't going to. When you learn to behave Vernon will let you cum.”

He tucks himself back into his pants and makes his way to the door. He looks as put together as when he got here. He turns around and looks you dead in the eye. “If Vernon has to call me again, I’ll leave that tight little asshole feeling as sore as that throat.”

[howyouloveyourdragon]

alicent has a younger omega sister who is politically savvy but ignored by otto. when it is announced that alicent is marrying the king the hightower omega reader and alpha rhaenyra team up (get married) and become a power couple to get back at otto. if you want them to reconcile with alicent that may be something good to have happen but not likely to happen with otto as there's a lot of differences/anger between them. Headcanons though you can use it if you want to turn it into a longer thing.

pronouns: she/her warnings: inferences of misogyny

A/n: your honour i love hightower reader, i got carried away but i hope you still like! this idea is going straight into my pocket

okay so i'm going to use the assumption that Otto had the idea to place Alicent as Queen for a long time so he focussed most of his attention on influence Viserys and Alicent

so he doesn't have plans for you just assumes that once Alicent is married, he will have a plentiful of powerful lords offering tributes for your hand

he doesn't suspect that everything can flip so quickly

I think Viserys would take interest in you for your intellect if he noticed some of the quips you made or the books you read

so he may offer you become a cupbearer to sooth your curiosity

I imagine that Otto wouldn't be entirely happy about this because of your nature but it is another step to gaining the King's favour so he lets it slide

then you almost drop the large jug of wine on Lord Beesbury's lap when the announcement is made but you don't say anything until you're both back at your private quarters, you decide to deal with Alicent later, she's a mere pawn in your father's game but she is not completely innocent

"I don't understand." You roar at your father. "Alicent has been gallivanting with the heir to the Iron Throne since they were children and now you have her betray the princess? Are you a fool, father?" Otto's gaze narrowed as he stared past his child's exterior. "She may not always be the heir." He snapped, his implication clear. Y/n stepped back and scoffed, folding her arms. "You cannot be serious."

"When your sister bears a son, the King will reconsider her position."

that changes everything because you always suspected your father of wanting to claim the Iron throne but this was direct treason

you call him an idiot and storm out basically

and you smack into an equally furious Rhaenyra who is seething

you both share a heated stare but there is no malice

her eyes flicker over you in recognition

"You're Alicent's sister." She states to which you nod warily. "A Hightower."

That's when you clench your jaw and she definitely notices, now with a mischievous glint in her eyes instead of her anger and a burning idea "Well spotted, your grace"

if it were her father you were speaking to, you may have bowed but you knew Rhaenyra, you had seen her fume at the thought of biting her tongue, you doubted she would appreciate you holding yours.

"It seems I am in need of a new lady-in-waiting." You cock your head but don't give her the satisfaction of asking, if she wants something you want her to work for it and especially now that you know of your father's plans to usurp the throne

It's Rhaenyra's turn to clench her jaw

"Would you be interested?" Were you interested in becoming the future Queen's lady-in-waiting? Yes of course you were but Alicent was still your sister and you didn't want to just replace her because of the princess' judgment

then again, wouldn't it be fair to betray her like she had betrayed Rhaenyra? "I would be honoured, princess." You agreed, attracting a smirk to her lips

Her lips curl and her eyes narrow playfully as she links your arms

so the next three years you spend under your princess' arm and discussing the future of King's Landing

but there's no giggling in the godswood or studying Nymeria–you're not Alicent and you need her to know that

in its place you instate deep speeches in the library and chasing one another through the castle

since then, Rhaenyra has presented as an alpha and her presence as heir has practically been reaffirmed for it

she's still the same mischievous teenager that she was when she was younger but with you by her side, guiding her through political and social events, she's much more secure in herself

the idea of you seems to linger in her mind now that her liberties have been broadened, the restrictions from when she was younger no longer apply

her father still wants her to get married but he's a lot more relaxed around it considering her position and large prospects

your own relationship with your father hasn't improved, you're both increasingly wary of each other with snide remarks while dining but even those times are few as the princess demands your presence at her own table where she bears no shame flirting with you while Alicent grips her cup too tight to be coincidental

after one dinner in particular two scenarios happen, one between you and your sister and one between Rhaenyra and her father

"What are you doing?" She asks, hurt clear in the shake of her tone

"What?"

"You chastise me for heeding father's ambition and yet you do the same as I. You're a hypocrite" That boils your blood but you stay as calm as possible

"I don't know what you're talking about"

"Yes you do!" She snaps "You're taking her from me!"

"She was never yours!"

"But she could have been" Alicent's voice comes out choked and you finally see the tears in her eyes "if I'd known she was a...I, I would have–" She doesn't need to finish her sentence as you wrap your arms around her and hush her cries

it was times like these that you forget she was the elder

your hand strokes through her hair as she murmurs her pains and regrets

meanwhile, Rhaenyra is working on keeping her shoulders level as she stands straight and composed opposite her father

"I have something to ask of you" She tells him and he's surprised at the authority of her voice "Then speak it" "I wish to claim a bride" His eyebrows shoot up, fairly certain that she would have suggested an allegiance with House Velaryon. He nods in encouragement and smiles "Of whom?" "Y/n Hightower" He nods and grasps her hands in his "Of course, my dear child" Though there is the slightest hesitation and suspicion in him, this is the second Hightower child to be brought into the Targaryen dynasty and Otto's influence feel overbearing these days

However he could never deny his darling daughter Rhaenyra of course

a lot happens that night but she doesn't tell you of the news right away, she waits a few moons to make sure it is something you would be interested in, she was rejected by Alicent she could just as easily be rejected by you too

but she had to try

so once the sun has fully set on the fourth night since and the moon shines down on you like a promise, you brush through the courtyard trying to understand the scalding heat in your loins while whimpers drip from your mouth

you lay upon the cold stone of a bench and take deep breaths until you're found

by Rhaenyra

and with a bright beam of her smile she is telling you the good news as you present yourself to her like an unfolding flower

with a new glow and spring in your step, you're attached to the hip

she likes that you can be affectionate in public with her, that was one of the reasons her relationship with Alicent deteriorated, she always felt like she was about to get caught

you can tell your father feels torn at the news, this one step closer to a Hightower on the throne but that Hightower has stated her dislike of the idea

as you enter the throne room to arrange the betrothal, Otto's eyes are as trained on you as yours are on his and the tension isn't hidden, a standoff waiting to happen

When it comes to the wedding and you begrudgingly take his arm down the aisle, his mouth is close to your ear

"I hope you understand now, I am only here to protect you." Your eyes turn to him, emotions indistinguishable "I'm sure" Your voice is dry and lacks depth, erupted an irritated sigh to escape your father's chest "Must you always be so difficult?" "Must you always be so delluded" He doesn't have a chance to respond as it comes time

He turns to remove your cloak only to remember that it's not there and steps to the side

Viserys was happy enough to perform a Valyrian ceremony for his daughter and at the word 'unbreakable' you knew it was the way to go

all uncertainties are lost as intimate family witness the union

you avoid Alicent's eyes and when you finally meet them you don't find the distaste you expected

as Rhaenyra and you lock your stinging hands together, there's a transfer of something deeper within you

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

9 - Pleasure of Conflicted Desire

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

Length: 13.1k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, slow burn discussions of warfare, description of corpses blood and gore, child death, character death, pregnancy, smut, p in v, nondetailed references to forced sex acts, struggles of internalized trauma

Notes: Difficult chapter for everyone but Robbs war campaign just is in a wild state right now in general. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

The wheels were all in motion, and it may be the only thing giving the man confidence. It was a plan they could get on board with, that maybe they didn’t have to take Kings Landing themselves to end the Lannister reign on the realm. Stannis does the hard work, and the Starks play distraction to give them the time and numbers to do so. Greatjon himself saying, “Aye, we’re better at guttin’ Lannisters then we’d be sailing and breaking down walls. We’re the only ones actually fighting this war.” 

It certainly felt that way. You wondered if the rebellion against Aerys Targaryean felt as futile in the middle of it. Looking back, everyone can clearly see the sides that were winning and that the side fighting for liberation were indeed the winning one. Yet you could understand that it likely didn’t feel that way. The Lannisters had not one a single battle against Robb Stark, and there hadn’t been any battle waged against any other. The Iron Islanders could hardly be called an army. More akin to raiders then anything, and the only time they fought as one they were crushed easily in a matter of months. 

Yet each day that the war continued on felt as if the North was going nowhere. Brynden had put that into better perspective earlier that morning in a small moment of doubt between the three of you. “Have you considered the fact that we haven’t had any major victories in recently is because the Lannisters aren’t brave enough to come and fight us in the field anymore?” 

You had added with, “Tywin Lannister has been holed up in Harrenhal as his men do his fighting for him for how long now? How many days have you been out there, in the front by the sides of your men as an equal and Tywin hasn’t?” 

“He and his high lords can sit around their table arguing about strategy and feel like they are accomplishing something, but we’re the only ones doing any of the real work. And we wouldn’t be anywhere but dead a long time ago without you.” Even now, this long into war, Robb still voiced his doubts, never got to sure of himself that it couldn’t go wrong. 

Sometimes, on the quietest of nights, you both would speak of what happens when this war is over, what then? So much of your life now, your lives together, had been about war but the truth was it wasn’t fair to ask to much of ‘what then’. The what then of war, was making sure you win because the alternative was death. 

Neither you or Robb had asked for this, but the responsibility fell onto your shoulders and if neither of you did it, who would? You had to trudge through the mud, feeling like each day without a win was a loss, because otherwise you have no other choice but to lose absolutely everything. 

When you begun to arrive back at the camp, something was wrong. Something was quite wrong, the men were in a state and anger was ripe. A group of men approached at haste both looked to the other with a weary gaze. “Your grace,” 

Robb asking what happened as you both climbed down and in an instant you realized that it was going to be something with quite the chain reaction. “The Kingslayer, he escaped in the night.”

The seething silent rage in his eyes was blazing, “How?” They glanced at one another and he raised his voice to repeat himself. They told of the events, of Jaime Lannister bashing the head in of Ser Alton to grab Torrhen Karstark’s attention, and how he strangled Torrhen himself and ran off into the night. That wasn’t what they were speaking of though. Speaking of how he was found, dragged back and yet he still escaped once more. But escaped wasn’t really the right word. He didn’t escape the second time on his own. No, it was far worse then that. 

Robb looked to you and found the same feeling within you as well, this only could have happened because you both were gone. Those on the war council had agreed it was the smartest plan to have both of you to confront Stannis Baratheon, and yet one person had used that absence. Robb’s shoulders were tense as his hands flexed in a restraining temper. 

It had been an intimidating sight to see apparently, the sheer anger in the King and Queen’s eyes as they moved together in furious haste though the camp amongst the growing contempt the events had caused. One that made quite a number of people back away for fear of crossing your paths. Multiple men were guarding outside the tent and opened it for the both of you where more men stood guard inside, as well as a more composed Roose Bolton, and a Rickard Karstark that you knew had full reasons to be as angry as the pair of you were. 

Catelyn sat with a look in her eye, mixing a shame with worry as she looked to her son. Robb’s voice was quiet and even but none were fooled at what lay beneath. “Why?” 

It was likely there was a bit of work on her end to keep any tears back at what she knew was coming, “For the girls.” 

“You betrayed me.” She tried pleading to him, only getting as far as is name until he raise his voice to her. “No. You knew I would not allow it, and you did it anyways.” 

Looking up you glanced to Karstark, a quiet understanding of the pained gaze in your eye behind an almost shaking fury to keep yourself tempered. You and Robb had seen Harrion Karstark die on the battlefield and now he’s lost another son and watched Catelyn send his murderer away. Trying to explain herself you found it hard to rationalize it when you knew too well what this meant. 

“Bran and Rickon are captives in Winterfell, Sansa and Arya are captives in King’s Landing. I have five children and only one of them is free.” And somehow that gave her the right, you thought exasperated. 

Karstark for what you knew a night ago would have been unbridled rage, spoke with a quiet agony as Catelyn felt the guilt compound onto her. “I lost one son fighting by your son’s side, I lost another to the Kingslayer. Strangled by a chain. You commit treason because your children are prisoners? I would carve out my heart and offer it to the father it he would let my sons wake from their graves and step into a prison cell.” 

Catelyn tried to keep her composure, rationalize it, “I grieve for your sons, my Lord-” 

You were the one who cut her off. “These men don’t need your grief, they needed justice. And they can’t do that now can they?” What was the point of how hard Robb worked to keep his men running in order, if everyone did what they considered to be fair. It couldn’t be fair, war wasn’t. 

“Returning Jaime Lannister might be the only way to buy life for my daughters.” Your eyes narrowed, that didn’t sound like her voice coming out of her and it dawned on you exactly who did. A chill running through you, just what had he been offered this time? How on earth could she even consider his words as any truth? 

Your voice in a breathless disbelief that she would ever trust him. You had looked him in the eye with the only trust you and Ned Stark had left, and that trust led you both to knives at your throats and a sword through her own husbands neck. “Petyr Baelish has played you for a fool.” 

Robb stared his mother down, his own voice quiet and he played the lecturer and her the one in need of scold. “You realize what it is you’ve done? You’ve weakened our position, you’ve brought discord into our camp. And you did it all behind my back.”

Looking to the men, he gave a final order, ignoring her plea of his name to listen. He had enough of that for one day. “Make sure she’s guarded day and night.” Turning with you he looked to Roose Bolton, “How many men did we send in pursuit of the Kingslayer?” 

“Fourty, your grace.” 

“Send another fourty. With our fastest horses.” Without another word to his mother, Robb led you outside, making your way through the camp. “He betrayed you, he betrayed my father and now she let him do it again.” 

Your voice hissing in an urgency. “If they don’t find Jaime by nightfall, we have to be gone. The Lannisters would have planned this, we can’t risk any chance of them getting word of where we are.” 

Robb nodded, “Start getting them ready, we leave as soon as it gets dark. Push onto them and we’ll get behind by the time Edmure draws them out.” 

You paused before walking away, looking at him like he was being weighed down by every force and from each side someone or something threw his work right back in his face. An intensity like he couldn’t stop finding new sides to be betrayed from. “Robb,” 

His brows narrowed as he looked to you, only the short few steps you took did his eyes wash over him a softer need. Cupping both sides of his face as he drew you in by the waist. His kiss was harsh, but you could feel it in the way he touched you how swirling his head was. Keeping your lips to his for a beat longer then intended, he pulled away pressing a final one to your forehead. Soft only for his ears did you run your hand over his cheek, “I love you.” 

Running his thumb over your waist as Robb resisted the urge to pull you right back into him. “And I love you.” Giving you a playful nudge backwards, “Now off with you.” 

He watched you walk away, his family tearing itself apart as it all kept resting on his shoulders but the only thing that was keeping his feet planted firmly on the ground anymore was you. Robb couldn’t even be sure if he’d see his siblings again, but then he could look at you and his heart felt full at how much he needed you to breathe. 

You believed in him, supported his decisions and had never even argued. Early on he would wonder if you were keeping it to yourself for his sake, but the more he got into your mind the more he just found someone who matched him. Saw the war and his people as he did, and refused to let anyone think you were not right beside him. 

Ending the war wasn’t going to be easy, but the more time he spent with you, these past few months especially, the more Robb yearned to bring you home to Winterfell. Watch you spent the first snows of winter swollen with his child and know you can raise them safe and free there. Your nights deserved to be spent in his real bed, being treated like a real Queen not the one you had to be with a sword in your hand. 

Robb wished they didn’t, but the red woman’s words had haunted him. So freely speaking of you with his children, the dream you told him that made him take you as many times as you could stand it. His own mother had betrayed him, but at least Robb had you, and a dream of a future where he could be a proper father to those children you dreamed of. 

The atmosphere of the camp was miserable to be in, everyone held their own opinion about what happened and none of them wanted to voice it as you passed by in risk of angering their leaders more then they already had been. 

What were you to focus on, what were you to prioritize at this point? One of your dearest friends betrayed you, your husbands mother betrayed you, and your own father readied to set sail to King’s Landing in a matter only of days now. You could see his plan perfectly, as well as the one Robb has put into play. Only so much of them you could even control, but as you slammed down a bag over your shoulder with a huff and a nod to the squire passed onto you came to one thought. 

If you left in a few hours, there might not be a chance to do so for who knows how long. You had to take the chance now and yet you had no idea what made the thought consume you. Your eyes scouring the camp and found no trace of anyone who would take much notice. 

Your feet walked for you, before you mind had a chance and by the time you caught up to the idea you were already pulling back the entrance to the tent in question. “Your grace. Do you require my attention for something?” 

As you stared at the man, you swallowed heavily. Eyes ready to sting like it was a mistake to do this, but you nodded. Grey Wind sitting outside the tent dutifully as you made your way inside. 

The sky had fallen into a golden colour as you stepped outside finally. The beauty of the light made your eyes sting, and biting your tongue to keep your face steady. However your lungs found it hard to breathe, and your heart pounded harder trying to compensate. A dread you didn’t fully understand overtaking you as you felt the people around you slow down. 

Your breathing the only thing you could hear and little in front of you that could be seen, not knowing if the world spun or if it was you. You supposed it was bound to be your turn, everyone seemed to find something to throw onto Robb lately and yet you didn’t think you had anything to add to it until now. 

Unsure if you had been standing there a while until you were nudged over by Grey Wind. A whining sound leaving him as he nudged your torso before looking up at you. Tall enough even on two feet that you barley had to raise your arms to run your fingers through his fur. He seemed insistent about something as he nudged you again before you shook out head out of its spin. Narrowing your eyes at the direwolf, “What’s gotten into you, huh?” Whined again as you ran a hand over his ears. “Come, considering I’ve heard to screams to for a Lannister head I assume we’re heading out soon.” 

Coming up on the bare bones of the war council’s tent, Robb was sat with Roose Bolton. His blue eyes looking up at you narrowed. You clearly didn’t realize your eyes still tinged with red and a crestfallen expression before you stepped inside. You could guess what this was about. “Still no word?” 

Robb watched you still, but you only stepped closer to him on both feet and keeping your attention on the other man. “We’ve sent a dozen ravens. None have returned.” 

Arms crossing over your chest you tilted your head with a heavy breath. “There’s no way he thinks we don’t already know, which means he’s trying to hide something.” 

Robb finally peeled his eyes from you back to the issue at hand, as Roose nodded in agreement. “There’s an easy way to find that out. My bastard is only a few days from Winterfell, once he captures the castle-” 

“Theon has my brothers. If we storm the castle-” 

You’re glad Roose seemed to have some confidence, beacuse there was little to be found in either of you. “He wouldn’t dare hurt the boys. They’re his only hope of escaping the North with his head.” 

Robb looked up to you, a far away look in your own eye trying to figure out what ever did he think he was going to accomplish with this? What could Balon Greyjoy possibly have said to him that was more important then the over half his life spent with Eddard Stark? Robb’s voice was low as he spoke. “Send word to your son. Any Ironborn who surrender will be allowed to return safely to their homes.” 

Raising your eyebrows, you caught on easily to the path behind this thoughts. Bolton looked unconvinced, “A touch of mercy is a virtue, your grace. Too much...” 

“Every ironborn with the exception of Theon Greyjoy. He betrayed our cause, he betrayed me and we will hunt him down no matter where he runs.” You didn’t know if your hand was shaking as it rose to run over Robb’s shoulder blade, but it took a lot of focus to pretend like it wasn’t regardless. 

Roose nodded as you added, “Ironborn won’t stay locked to the land for long before they need any excuse to leave. They took Winterfell because it was open and Theon wanted it, not because they have any use in staying there. They get an easy offer of life, and they’ll turn on him the minute they hear it.” 

“I’ll send word right away.” 

Once alone with him, you knew you should tell him, you knew it was important to say it but for once you found yourself unable to deliver the final blow. As he raised his hand to grasp yours, he pulled you down onto his lap. Your hands finding his neck to rest around and him your waist as he leaned in for a kiss. “I want you to keep an eye on the Karstarks.” Meeting his eyes as you pulled back he squeezed your waist tightly, keeping himself rooted in clarity through you. “They’re grieving and angry, and if they take this too personally I can’t have that kind of dissension in my ranks. You have the best eye for that, and I need someone I can trust who won’t mince words.” 

Nodding, you could see the struggle in his eyes like the only one he thought he could keep every faith in was you. He had so much on his shoulders from what felt like every corner of the realm and the second something goes wrong out of his control, it all falls to his blame. Stannis didn’t need to take Kings Landing just to turn the tides on this war, he needed to take the Iron Throne if just to give Robb a second to breathe for once. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but yet only a sigh came out as you ran your fingers through his hair for a moment. “Most of the first troops are ready to head out, if I leave with them now I can have the scouts up by tomorrow night and we should be hitting them just as Edmure has the Mountains garrison crossed over.” 

Robb shook his head, standing you both up, “I’m not sending you alone. Have Olyvar ready my horse, I’ll meet you there before the hour’s up.” 

Riding through the night was easy, it was quiet and the only sounds hitting you being the chattering of night above and the trotting of hooves below. Not often anymore did it give you the chance to retreat so much into your mind, but you and Robb both needed that quiet together. 

You couldn’t imagine him as such, Theon. Dressed in garb like the Ironborn and spouting their words like he’d always lived by them. You’d grown alongside him watching the surly teenager grow into a man and you couldn’t figure out where that man had went, or if he was never there in the first place. Had he hated the Starks the whole time? 

It was the conversation you both had right as you had set out for war, not even crossing past the borders of the North when he brought it up. That Catelyn shouldn’t be treating you like you were not her family, only to bring up your real one. What reasons though, did you have to suspect that he meant it in the manner for himself? 

You both had a unique perspective to the other, spent much time in the North without being one in your blood, and both of you had strained, or in Theon’s case non existent, relationships with difficult fathers who never treated you like one. Both had followed Ned Stark and understood the world from his perspective and worked by his side often on the same things. 

He knew that you had chosen to go to Robb instead of your father and he tried to broach why you’d do it, maybe shutting down that conversation was a mistake. You knew what being Stannis’s daughter meant, and had you gone to him in the first place you knew what they would make you. Maybe to Theon, it seemed ludicrous to refuse the offer of being a Princess. 

If he was Balons last living son, that would in their independence, make him a Prince. Was he really asking you why you would choose against a similar choice because he was already thinking that far beyond? Why swear himself so openly to another King, to someone like a brother to him if he was already considering this new path? The only answers you could come up with, were simply more questions. 

What would he understand of such conflict? He wasn’t stuck between two choices from the start, there was nothing from Balon until Theon went to him. He brought the conflict on himself where you had no say in the position. The moment you were thrown in that cell, there was a choice you had to make and between life and death, and when life was chosen you had decide what the family that needed you the most was. 

Theon made the wrong choice, and he chose the people that hadn’t known anything about him for so long he returned essentially a stranger. If he were smart, he would surrender with the safety of the boys and accept the justice of his sins. If he were smart. 

“You’re going to scare it off.” 

The sounds of the flowing water streaming down the river was as loud in your head as it was the memory which followed. It was your last visit to Winterfell before Jon Arryn’s death, over two years ago now but it felt far longer. A life that seemed now to never exist. 

You and Theon were crouched down, leaning slightly over a thick tree log that had sat untouched by the riverside. Both with bows in your hand, you had been out there for a number of hours and there was no sign of stopping until he relented. 

Close enough that he could whisper in your ear Theon leaned over, “You’re going to scare if off.” Not quite raising your bow, you moved it into position as you eyed the deer. “It’s way too far, you’re not going to nail it and then it’ll take what? Another two hours for you to get a better shot?” 

Glaring to the side at his confident face you resisted the urge to shove him over. “I’m not going to miss.” 

Raising his eyebrows in a playful jest, he shrugged. Watching you move your arms into position before reaching over to nudge your wrist up slightly. You whipped around to face him, dropping it entirely as you glared at him with a whisper, “I don’t need your help.” 

“You’re too high, you’ll barley graze it’s head.” 

It had been a number of hours now, the pair of you finding things to shoot at in increasing challenge before he came up with nailing a deer in the eye from such a distance away. Getting on the other’s nerves each time one of you did better then the other, until now as the sun set you both knew he was picking at your stubbornness on purpose. “Going to graze an arrow past your head if you don’t shut up, Greyjoy.” 

He turned slightly, his back more resting against the log as you knelt perched forward still. “Knowing you’re aim, you’d have been aiming for my face and missed.” Ignoring him with narrowed eyes forward, you kept your hold on the bow light as you watched the deer kneel its head down to eat. “You can always just admit defeat, there’s no shame in it. Besides the mocking I’ll do ‘till your end of days.” 

“And if I hit it?” You turned your head to glance at him with an amused smirk. “What do I get?” 

Theon took full advantage of how quiet you were trying to be, knowing any other time you’d shove him right into the lake next to you. “Could think of a few things, pretty girl like you.” Riling you up more he pressed on with a grin you knew was smug as you were too concentrated to argue back, “Find a way to lighten up that attitude of yours real easy. I’ve never seen you with a guy, you’re probably wound up way too tight it’d be easy to get you to relax-”

In an instant, you raised up, drawing your arm back before releasing a shot. Landing it right on target with ease. Theon’s head whipping over to look with a disbelieving, “Shit,” You stood up before him, holding a hand out to yank him up as well as he looked a mix of impressed and shamed for being bested. “I was gonna get you to do all my inventory count.” 

Finally, you let out a loud breath of a laugh as you peeled off your gloves finally with your teeth before shoving them in a pocket. “I thought of what my prize is too.” Nodding to the deer with a smirk, “You get to drag that thing back, yourself.” 

“Since when did your aim get so damn good, Baratheon?” 

You looked back as you walked away, “Maybe you’re just getting worse at it, ever consider that?” 

By the time Theon had gotten back, it was obvious he and the river had a bit of an incident trying to get the deer across it, and failed. You and Jon had been perched just outside the walls watching Bran run around with Rickon. The loud slap as he tossed the furs around his shoulder at you was nothing but disappointing to him as it came nowhere near hitting you as he meant. 

His face falling flat as the pair of you had a good laugh over it, until that was when Jon turned on you, grabbed you by the arms, holding you back against him as Theon proceeded to dump the contents of his skin of water all over from the top of your head. Lord Stark had come out at that point, seemingly unsure if he should laugh or scold you three for being more childish then the actual children you and Jon had been out there to watch. 

Sitting around one of the small fires as you stopped for that night some days later, by morning you’d push onto Harrenhal, and you were far away enough that the men could catch their breathe first. Such days felt so long passed that you could see a different person entirely in them. You laughed, and joked, and still knew how to have fun and now everyday was a crushing pressure that could sent you deep into the earth should you let it. 

Coming into your vision were a pair of feet before a body sat down next to you with a groan. “When’s the last time you got any sleep?” Glancing up to see Brynden Tully, you just shrugged looking back into the flames. “Neither of you are very good at that lately, it seems.” Following his eyeline to Robb who was just as tired yet distracted as you were.

“Hard to sleep when your busy chasing ghosts nowadays.” His twisted face seemed to lighten as he relented. The pair of you in quiet for a moment before you felt a twist in your stomach that spilled into your veins, leaving you more on edge as it flowed through you. “The longer the Lannisters hide from us, the more antsy the men are going to get.” 

“We’re at war, your grace.” He gestured to the lot of them all around with a casual degree, “They’re going to be antsy until their back at home in their beds or dead in their graves.” 

Your forearms rested on your knees as you leaned forward, just how long would either of those be at this point. How much longer could the men hold out on a war that your opponent refuses to fight. “Everything we’ve done, and I know they all look to us, to Robb, like it’s our fault we’re here. They feel like we’re losing, and I don’t know how to change that.” 

Brynden leaned in to match your posture, “You can’t.” Glancing up with a raised eyebrow to him. “Most of these men, they aren’t leaders. Their soldiers. They don’t care if we’re winning the war, they want to feel it.” Pointing to Robb your felt that twist in your stomach sting more. “They’ll all blame the King because the Lannisters aren’t here to take their anger out on, but the smart ones know they’re nothing without him.” 

Robb had a good mind for warfare, a great one in fact. But the fact of the matter is that war isn’t just bloodshed and battles, it’s a game of strategy and the side that has no patience is the side that starts to loose. He hadn’t lost his patience, but then you saw those like the Karstarks who didn’t know what to do with themselves if they weren’t taking their grief out on the enemy. 

“And the ones who don’t figure that out?” 

With a darker, partially far away look as you both met eyes, there was a mutual feeling that came to a similar conclusion. You knew it, he knew it, and Robb knew it but what were you trying to do if he sacrificed justice for morale? What were you fighting for if he didn’t lead his men with the values that shape a good man? And which of the discontent ones would be the first to break. 

A hand slapped around your shoulder as another large figure sat beside you pulling you more into her side. Bless Maege for not having any issue with treating you with such a casualness when you were deep inside your own head. “I mean no disrespect, your grace, but you look like shit.” 

Face twisting into a bemused grimace as you nodded, “Don’t know how I could possible take that as insult.” Two skins were in her hands, as she nodded to the other man with a look almost saying to leave if you weren’t mistaken. Brynden took no offence, as he unbeknownst to you, recognized the look on her face as one he’d seen many times before ‘leave the women to talk’. 

Handing you one, Maege nudged “Have a drink,” 

If anything was on your side it was the ease in which you just shook your head without a suspicious sort of pause. “Don’t really think that’s going to help at this point.” 

Shoving it in your hands regardless, Maege bit open the cap of her own. “It’s not supposed to help, it’s supposed to trick you into thinking it’ll make you feel better when all you do is feel worse. Besides, yours is full of water, don’t worry.” 

Opening it slowly, you peered inside and when finding no scent you took a good sip, the water feeling soothing as it ran gently down your throat. The unsaid words along them having burned you up on the inside for almost two days now. “Been a real shit few days, hasn’t it?” 

Maege laughed, giving you a pat on the back as she did so. “Hasn’t been the best, but none of these fuckers have a clue what leading an army is like. They wanna kill something, good for them, that’s not gonna change even if we do get a fight. They’ll be hot for a night or two and then get that same itch, as long as we’re out here.” 

Shrugging one shoulder you glanced to her, “What about you?”

Her expression was light, looking around the camp. “Doesn’t matter how I feel. We chose him to lead us, we chose you to lead us and my opinion ends there. King in the North says we jump into a fight, we fight. He says we stand back and draw them out quiet, then we do that.”

Pointing to the Karstarks she leaned into your side a tad quieter, “Either they smarten up, or they don’t but none of this shit is up to them. What the King does isn’t up for debate.” 

You bit your tongue, taking another sip after to soothe the sharpness in your own mouth now. “No, it’s not. At least with what they’re arguing about. I’m pissed, furious at what she did but it’s not her fault that Torrhen was killed by the Kingslayer and I don’t think he has any clue how this is all making him look.” 

Maege shrugged, “Aye. I can sympathize with what she did, really, and I know you can too. We’re mothers afterall, but that also means you and I know it’s not such an open and shut crime.” 

It took you a moment, nodding absently before you felt a shiver run down your spine. Your hands tensed as they sat in front of you as your eyes flickered just enough to the side to see her leaning towards you. “I’ve had five of my own, your grace. I know what that expression you’ve been walking around with is saying. Or not saying.” Nodding subtlety to Robb she asked, “He doesn’t know?” 

Your head hung down, a wave of strong crushing guilt slamming you in your heart all at once as it biled up towards your throat. You shook your head no, and Maege in a quiet tone, one softer and fair more consoling asked why. 

You shrugged as a fake laugh made it’s way to your face. “Look around you, look what he’s been dealing with? Everyone’s fucked him over one way or another, he’s carrying this war all on his own and now his own mother’s betrayed him. You think he needs me adding that onto his shoulders?” 

Her voice was still quiet but strict, her words slow and separate like enunciating a lecture to that of a child. “You are not a burden to that man. You wanna know what we all see?” 

When you didn’t answer, she took it as a yes anyways. “He’s so in love with you it’s almost disgusting if it weren’t also so fucking endearing.” The taken back look on your face must have been something because she laughed heartily at however you just reacted. “He doesn’t just call you his Queen, he treats you like one. Looking for any excuse to have a hand on you in any way, kiss you just out in the open like he doesn’t care. Probably because he doesn’t.” 

You didn’t have the bravery to look up at him, not just yet but she wasn’t done, “And it’s not just him. You might be the most tense, on edge person in this whole army but the second you look at him, you’re like a puppy.” 

Flickering up to quickly glance, you felt your heart sink at the sight of him standing tall and powerful like he was. “Ah, see? That look there, the one on your face right now.” 

Flattening it out quickly, you at up and took another drink, wiping the droplets off with the back of your hand. “We’re at war, we’re out in the middle of the West fighting the Lannisters and he needs a firm hand at his side not another thing to worry about.” 

Maege looked at you for a good long while. Leaning forward, she took a sip of her own before inhaling deeply. “Do you know why the Mormonts have been so loyal the Starks as long as we have?” 

Raising your eyebrow you dryly responded, “Because the alternative is breaking your oath?” 

Smiling to herself, you looked up as she was almost lost in her own memory. “The King’s protective of you a lot, he lets it sit right on his face and in his actions how protective he is. All them Starks are really, real pack animals that defend their own. We’re not to different to that. We’d do anything to keep our own safe and damned what comes in the way of that we find a way to deal with it.” 

Her eyes glancing to where you both knew Lady Catelyn was, “Even if protecting his own means going against others to do it. He’s not just pissed at what she did, he’s lost too much already and risking our position? Causing this shit in the camp? That just puts you in danger, and you’re the one thing the King has left and he’s desperate to protect it. You’re not a burden, your grace, you’re keeping a man together who think’s hes got nothing left.” 

“Sounds like you know what it’s like.” 

She shrugged, leaning back as the stress in your shoulders lightened a bit. “Sort of, I know what it’s like to have your family betrayed by one of your own.” Your eyes squinted as you thought to those early days in King’s Landing, “You know about my nephew? Jorah?” 

“I know he ran off to Essos, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

Her face twisting for a moment as she clearly recalled it. “It was all before you were born, but basically Jorah found himself a wife none of us liked, then when she got too expensive for him he racked himself up in serious debt. So how does he pay it back?” She huffed a bitter laugh. “Of all the crimes he could have committed he starts to trade slaves. Nothing gets him the money to pay off like the lives of innocent human beings, right?” 

Gesturing lightly to Robb she continued, “It was Ned Stark who ordered it.  Called him a traitor for committing one of the more reprehensible crimes the North ever outlawed, and sentenced him to death. No trial, no question, just called for his execution. You know what we did?” 

She looked to her King once more, “We accepted it. Sure it hurt to hear, but not for a second did any of us stand there and argue with him over it. He disgraced himself and what else was there to do but trust in Ned Stark’s judgment? Didn’t make it easier, but we knew losing out shit would only make it worse.” 

You looked up to the Karstarks before asking, “What did everyone else think, your men?” 

“It wasn’t their business. It’s our family and it wasn’t our place to argue with Stark over it, and so it sure as hell wasn’t anyone elses business how we handled it. Honestly, I think if Jorah just faced his sentence like man maybe it wouldn’t have taken us so long to get our shit together again. Instead he ran off like a coward and now we all have to live with the fact that to everyone else it looked like we just let him get away.” Her eyes squinted as she shook her head to herself. 

Being blamed for a crime you had no control over by a member of your own family, you looked up to Robb and yes, you thought. You do get why she hasn’t changed her opinion of it at all. “How’d you deal with it? At the time I mean, after he fled.” 

Whistling in dismay she took a drink. “My brother always said I was the one with the temper, but let me tell you I’ve never seen that old fucker more angry then the day he found out Jorah fled to Essos. Fuck I had to be the one to give him the news, went all the way up North just to tell him what I knew would make him lose it.” 

Your eyes narrowed in question, “Up North?” Considering where Bear Island was in your memory you came up short as to where this all would’ve taken place. 

“Brother’s up at the wall. He gave up his seat and everything to join them and give his boy his chance as Lord, so you can image how mad the was to learn his son threw away everything he passed to him personally.” Given the temper you’d seen on Maege, you could only dream of what those day’s looked like. “It gets easier, you get used to the bad shit and you move on. You and him will move on from it as well.” Nodding to Robb.

For a minute or so you were quiet, a tiny voice telling you to ask and you found yourself vulnerable enough to let it overtake your logic of silence. “How’s he doing? Your brother?” 

She smiled, a real smile. “That old bear’s Lord Commander now. So safe to say he’s doing well for himself. We kept in touch in the first few months of this shit, told him what’s happening and to pass that all onto the King’s brother.” 

There was nothing to press on there, her brother was Lord Commander and so he passed details of what happened over to Jon. But as you looked up at Robb, part of you thought to yourself that he shouldn’t have to only have you to trust. His best friend, his brother, he should've had the chance to be here too. 

It’s not fair Robb only has you now. The other man who was at his side betrayed him and it wasn’t fair because the one person who you know would stand by him better then you ever could was as far way as the brothers could be from the other. 

“He has Jorah’s sword now.” You whipper your head to look at her totally confused as she nodded to Robb. “His brother. That’s why I was up there in the first place, Jorah had the decency to leave behind the family sword. Fancy thing, Valyrian steel. Longclaw we call it, been in the Mormont’s family for five centuries and for over twenty years it just sat at the wall mocking my brother.” 

“But, then this dark haired Snow comes along and for the first time that fucker finally had a real emotion for once. Had the bear head hilt remade and everything. Carved it to look like one of those direwolves and gave it to Ned’s own boy. Funny how all this shit works out.” 

You paused as you looked to the ground, like you could see the hilt in your mind, like somewhere in the mess of dreams that kept you lost at night, you’d seen a sword, the hilt with a white wolf and red eyes and suddenly for the first time in a long time, you almost lost yourself in thinking of how much you missed him. Only broken by Maege before it got too far.

“Anyways, you got me way off track, I came over here to tell you, to do him a favour and be the one scrap of good news that he hasn’t had in weeks.” 

Not giving you a second to think, she stood up and nudged you away from her direction as you paused to turn around with a bewildered but amused look, “I’m sorry Mormont, did you just shove your Queen?” 

“Please, the King’s about to do a hell of a lot more then just that in a few minutes.” 

You’d feel flustered, but the closer you got and the louder the voices became from Robb and Roose, you lost any single sense of that courage. It all ran right out the window, “We should set the siege lines a thousand yards from Harrenhal.” 

What were you supposed to do, come to him and distract from a tactical move he’d been planning in depth and so close to it? You weren’t beside him to distract him, you needed to be his support because none else would. Stepping to them you were noticeably distant, something almost high strung about you that set the air around you on edge. 

“They won’t be able to hold a siege, not in a ruin like that. If the Mountain’s still garrisoned there, he doesn’t have enough fortification to withstand a siege.” Robb eyed you, something far away in his own gaze that you tried very hard to ignore. 

His own voice was rough, like the stress was eating away at him on the inside. “The Lannisters have been running from us since Oxcross, the only way we get them to fight is to push them into one and they can’t do that in a castle that’s barley standing.” 

Roose glancing to the pair of you, almost as if he hesitated to voice his thought before giving up and speaking anyways. “The men need a fight.” 

Your eyes were sharp as they cut to him, “And they’ll get one when the Lannisters finally decide to give us one.” 

What a fight it wouldn’t be. The sun shining over the forever smouldering castle ruins, there was nothing of Lannisters left in there, nothing behind but your own dead. The lot of you arriving in, something felt noticeably wrong. Dead Northmen and yet no single sign of the enemy and not even an inkling that they had drawn forward where Edmure was to lure them in. No, it was like they had just packed up and left.

Turning in place, the sights were ghastly. Blood of the dead, and the burning and rot of those there much longer, ones that weren’t soldiers or any kind but people. Your heart raced and your stomach twisted as you walked towards a pile of men slaughtered like sheep. Had this truly been the first time you’d faced this in months? Had it always looked this morose or were you just naive enough to think a bloodbath would be kinder then this when it wasn’t done by you.

Your gloves sticky as you peeled back the sigil sewn into the men, the flies buzzing around them spoke of a fight that took place too long ago to add up, how long had they been gone? An eagle spread over what looked like a dark field on their persons had you narrow your eyes. 

Standing up, you could hear Lord Karstark in the background. “They rot in the ground while their killer runs free?” 

You eyed the bodies burned and hanged so black they were like charcoal, the clothes of commoners still hanging off their remains so far burned there was nothing like flesh and meat for the insects to bite into. “The Kingslayer won’t remain free for long. My best hunters are after him.” 

Catelyn from where she stood identified what you had as well, “My fathers bannermen.” 

Your eyes shifted to Brynden, a tilt of your head in a dark curiosity that had him eyeing the dead with his own judgments in silence. You had been chasing ghosts, but this was not the nothing that was normally left behind for you. This was the remains of a battle you’d missed that had no place in Robb’s strategy. 

Turning to his men, Robb indicated towards his mother. “Find her a chamber that will serve as a cell.” 

Your eyes drifted before he could catch yours, making your way to a number Umbers clearing out a space below those hanging. “Let me.” Men nodding, as you climbed up multiple crates stacked, balancing carefully to cut down the bodies as they dropped to the ground with little resistance from the rope. 

Your hands on your hips as you glanced to the others. “Start bringing down the rest of them I’m not leaving them all to hang for their loved ones to find.” 

From what you could see there were at least twenty old ones, and maybe eleven more fresh that still held a burning scent if you got too close. You had been cutting down another pair, some smaller then the rest as your stomach begged you pay no mind to the size. The faces as unrecognizable as the anxiety in your stomach. 

Others had begun to care for the dead soldiers around the court as some had names to identify, others had to be made note of their sigil and passed on. Blood weighed heavily in your nose and thick on your tongue, no solace was found in such a task but at least you’d find some use. It was some time later when Roose Bolton came to your side, “Your grace.” Nodding to him you both looked to the scene for a moment, a conclusion that seemed to come to his as well and no doubt had hit Robb. 

“We’re waiting on word from Riverrun and Kings Landing.” You nodded, carefully trying to pull the leather from your hands without completely soaking the skin underneath. The attempt was fruitless.

Your voice was tight and rigid as you spoke. “The men you have, looking for the Kingslayer.” You ran your teeth over your tongue in a sting before you shook off the twisting and churning in your stomach. “You trust their loyalty as much as their skill?” 

A curious look in his eye, “I do.” 

“Good. Because if they catch him, he’ll offer whatever he can to walk free and neither me nor the King have the time for that.” You watched the half smile on his face as his eyes did not match the motion. 

His chuckle didn’t either. “I assure you, your grace they have their orders and they’ll do whatever they can to follow them. They know the punishment for disobeying a command.” 

Your eyes narrowed at him, he seemed off to you, but it was difficult to place where that was coming from. A suspicion ran through you like something you hadn’t pinned was running through your own mind. “If I may say, your grace. It seems like you’re more on edge then usual.” 

Your look was harsh as it was blank as your arms crossed your chest. “I think all of us are more then agitated at this point. Some more then others.” 

Whatever it was you were trying to find in the other just wouldn’t come out, but you had no question that there was something he wasn’t saying just as you were. Only the thing you weren’t saying couldn’t have possibly lived in the same area as what he could be ruminating on. 

The ruins of Harrenhal were not what you had imagined. A great castle encased by a never ending smoulder that left it haunting and cursed with the dead burned alive inside. Only as you walked through the echoing halls, even as the darkness swooped over the sky, you felt nothing of it. Standing at it’s best, you could envision a mighty fortress. A hundred thousand men marching on these walls and a hundred thousand men would be repelled, now it was a place fought over to be ignored. 

On a ledge overlooking one of the courtyards, the space ran as a bridge between once massive structures with carved arches in acting like windows. One foot resting up on the incline as you leaned back against the stone the other foot planted firmly on the ground as you looked high to the night. 

Stars were bright, shining and the moon not yet full but bright as ever. No distracting red to shine with an ominous glow, no clouds looming over to pour down over the blood soaked grounds, just the yell of men below and the cawing of birds in the night above. 

Maybe you could find the strength to prey to the gods, ask them to spare your sins and turn you into a bird and find a place to live out in painless quiet. You’ve heard Highgarden is beautiful in the summer. 

Looking over the raven scroll once more you wanted to scrunch it up and toss it to the wind. Tywin Lannister was now stationed in Kings Landing as proper Hand of the King, the city still stands and Stannis Baratheons fleet suffered a great loss. Just as they were minutes from breaching the gates, coming up behind them in a last minute attempt were Tywins forces backed by that of the remaining Tyrells. Pushing what was left back to the sea.

A sea that burned, the hellscape this very castle is spoken so commonly of was actually that of the Blackwater Bay. Tyrion Lannister had set the water on fire, or more accurately, wildfire. A substance you heard much about, yet never had seen of your own eyes. Bright and green that burned so hot it could not be even stood next to without feeling it’s effects. 

Created by the Targaryeans as the last of their dragons died to keep their fire and blood as true words to oppress with. The absence of any life in the West made sense now, they had moved to push on King’s Landing, because they were not drawn in on the other side. 

The Riverlands did not draw the Mountain and his troops out, instead they were pushed back enough to give them all time to turn around and make a rescue of their captiol. Many thousands had died in the firestorm of the sea, and no words except that of Stannis himself spoke of any life. None other you knew from your life on Dragonstone had any mention and perhaps you didn’t have the right to it. 

That wasn’t the only news though. No it continued to get worse. Roose Bolton’s bastard had gotten to Winterfell and there was nothing left. Just as your own troops had found. A torched castle with scours of a massacre left behind. Bran and Rickon weren’t found, and word from the men there seemed to speculate they were dead. 

You could dream, but there were no demands, no rumour of them as a hostage and nothing of the Ironborn were that of kidnappers. Bran was around Shireen’s age, he didn’t even have the chance of life that could’ve meant much. Rickon was six, how much of this war did he even truly understand? No words of their wolves sighted either. 

Six Stark children, and only four of them remained, as six direwolves and perhaps only three remained as well. As if he could hear you think, Grey Wind approached you with a nudge to your abdomen. He huffed resting his head there satisfied when you rested a hand over his head scratching his ears. You’d seen this beast rip the hearts of men from their still beating chests and bear battle with his master stained with blood. Yet now he lay across you, no more then a large dog. 

The world saw fit to make the wolves stand alone in this world. But Stags? How long had they even lasted? Two were dead, and the third stands against the forth. Somewhere across King’s Landing you had known of Robert’s bastards and yet they were all as alone as the last of you. 

Only, as Grey Wind looked up at you, your stomach twisted and suddenly were filled with the blackness of lightheaded sensations. Moving to pull your leg over the bend, you wavered as you stood up. One hand pressing against the stone wall as your eyes closed and a low rumble came from the large direwolf next to you. Nipping at the edge of your shirt he pulled you away from the window as you opened your eyes in shock. “Alright, alright.” 

Looking at the dark eyes staring up at you, you ran a hand over his face. Some comfort finding itself nestling in the pit of your stomach as you did so. Nodding your head at him to the side, he turned on a dime and walked you through the halls of ruin. 

Coming into the door, you quietly shut it behind you as Grey Wind slipped in. Robb sat on the edge of a bed, elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. Your heart yearning for the possibility of healing his with no hope behind such a wish. You were slow as you approached, saying nothing before coming to kneel before him. Raising his head, the redness was already passing and his eyes were the remnants of what was once tears. 

You hesitated to reach out to him, this was a raw offence he did not deserve. His youngest brothers by what was once a brother to him. Your face was as fallen as it had been much of the day, only now you had to try and be the one there for him regardless. “If I ever see him again, he’d better be thankful that all I’ll do his take his head. Bran can’t walk, Rickon was six what does he think he’s proving to anyone by murdering two boys who can’t even hope to fight back?” 

There was a choke in his tone that wanted to yell or cry but had no more tempered energy to do either one. Finding his eyes, you tried to kneel as straight postured as you could, keeping the shaking of your lungs to yourself. “He wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone but himself. They found all the ravens dead, he tried to hide this.” 

Robb sighed out, his hands falling to rest along his thighs as they curled into fists. “He knew Bran and Rickon their entire lives, they’ve known him their entire lives. They saw him like a brother,” 

Catching his eyes, he finally looked into yours properly before closing them again. His exhale much shakier this time. “The Lannisters take half my family from me, and now Theon kills the other half. What am I even left with?” Opening once more he looked to you, a plead for answers in his eyes while his fists tightened in the rage of not having any control. 

“Robb,” You started, a breathy whisper before he reached up suddenly. His hand finding the back of your head as he leaned to press your foreheads together. His breathe hot on your skin as he spoke. 

“My own mother betrayed my trust behind my back, the only brother I even have left?” His jaw clenched as your hands gently found the courage to dance lightly across the part of his chest exposed to the air. “I let him vow himself to the end of the world because I wasn’t brave enough to stand up for what he deserved. I think the only one I have left anymore is you.” 

One of your thumbs trailed over his jaw, as your heart raced. Pushing the images and memories of the other back down deep for Robb’s sake. You couldn’t keep this from him anymore, it was cruel. You didn’t breathe an inch as you spoke, “My love, you have more then just me. I promise.” With nothing but nerves and anxiety racing inside you, you gently opened the tight fist in his lap still, running your fingers along his until he could feel his tensity loosening. 

Robb thought you were trying to hold his hand, his brow furrowing when you took it and pulled it off his lap. Barley able to hear you as your own voice was so small, so unsure of yourself as you moved his hand to brush lightly under your shirt over your stomach. “You have us.” 

It took him a moment to even register what you had done, pausing before turning to look down at where you held his wrist that brushed over the sliver of bare stomach. “Us?” His eyes were bright as he whipped his head up to look at you, almost confused for a moment as you could see it all hit him. 

The nerves in your head ready to make you pass out as he looked back down. “You- you’re really?” 

Suddenly in his own mind, Robb put it together. The sudden distance in yourself that begun not long after you returned to the camp, the way you kept away from him and then compounding of everyone having found a way to wrong him and he felt angry. Angry that he had given you the slightest idea that he’d be unhappy with you, that he hadn’t paid more attention. 

The way you hadn’t been quite yourself, more needing of physical touch then normal to the point you even commented. You stared at him, for once too scared to try and read past his narrowed eyes and lips parted in shock as he suddenly sat up, grabbing you and hauling you into his arms and straddling his lap as he buried your face in his neck. 

He huffed out a laugh in disbelief, before letting out another. More came turning into a laugh of joy before pulling back long enough to press a kiss to your lips. Barley leaving them to speak softly, “My girl,” a smile a real smile that had barley been on his face in weeks painted over, “My perfect girl.” 

Pulling you back into another kiss, passion exploding in your mouth as you held the sides of his face as you tried not to let tears fall from them. You failed. Robb sat you on him back a little, one hand on your waist as the other ran over your stomach, “Why would you keep this from me? Why would you think I didn’t want to know about this?” 

Your chest rose with a bile that you didn’t want to form into a sob. Swallowing hard the tears did not give such an obey of order. He touched and looked at you so softly, you’d cry if you tried explaining yourself in full. All that came out as like a confession of a misbehaving little girl you once were, “I thought you’d be mad,” 

His hand now smoothed over your stomach firmer, thumb running back and forth as he narrowed his eyes in guilt. “Mad? At what for giving me the one thing I’ve dreamt of having with you for two years now?” 

Resting now on his shoulders, you held all the sadness for the both of you. “We’re at war, we have no idea when we’ll not be, the last thing you need-” 

Your name came out surprisingly stern from Robb’s lips. “Look at me.” Moving to keep your face looking right at his with a warm hand on your cheek. “War or not, you’re my wife, the love of my life. Do not think for one second, that you haven’t just given me the happiest news of my life. War or not, it’s you and me. It’s us,” His hand running over your stomach, “Now and always.” 

You wanted to say something back, anything that would return the love but all that came to mind was tears and the relief that he wanted this, he wanted this and through all of the noise inside your head? All you could do was wrap your arms around him back as he kept one of his around you and the other pressed against your stomach. 

It had been a long time in this war since you’d thought about what you genuinely wanted, but right here in Robb’s touch you found that answer. This, you wanted this. His voice was deep and the wavering of his was heard over the other clear distinction of a smile. “I hope you like being with child, my queen, because we have a whole list of names to get through.” 

The laugh you let out was choked in a sob that he yet was thrilled enough to make him laugh. “How about we have this one first, then we can go from there?” 

Robb pulled back, running his nose along the length of yours. “Oh no you’re not getting off that easy. You should know by now, there’s nothing a wolf wants then to see his mate with a whole litter of pups.” 

Your eyes crinkled in a mock protest before he kissed you again, rough but quick. “You’re that confident?”

He shrugged as you both grinned, barley leaving the other enough to not feel your breath on your faces as he jested. “My mother had five children and I don’t even think they were trying for that many.” Robb turned his next kiss more sultry. Moving your jaw to the perfect angle to bite at your lip before kissing you with a greed and a tone in his voice that made you shiver. “Me on the other hand, maybe I’ll just keep you pregnant long as I can. Help my perfect little wife make us a perfect not so little family.” 

Turning you to lay you out flat on the bed, Robb pulled your shirt up and off, giving him free reign to run his hands and lips over your stomach. “May as well start now,” Crawling up the length of your body until he caged you in hovering over you. His lips brushing against yours in a soft tease, “No harm in practising for later, right?” 

Nodding, you reached up to run your fingers through his curls as he consumed you with his kiss. All biting your lips until they were red and swollen before licking his way into your mouth. Pulling away suddenly, leaving a trail of saliva to snap between you as he yanked off his own shirt before moving to impatiently pull yours until you lay bare beneath him. 

Your heart raced and your blood burned as he reached for the laces of his breeches only to catch your eye, the hunger in his must have matched what you felt in yours as he then knelt straighter up. Looking at you with an eyebrow raised as he ran a hand over your jaw, “Show me how a good girl treats her King.” 

You’d collapse if you weren’t already laying down, a dizziness hitting you as you kept your eyes up on Robb, his blue eyes were as dark as the sky beyond his window. It wasn’t fair how easily he had you at his mercy, how much you wanted to be. Pulling the material down his legs until they reached where he sat on his knees, you braced your palms on his thighs before Robb tsked. Running hand through your hair before finally moving to lay you back down. 

Standing, he yanked them the rest of the way off standing bare to you as your thighs clenched together at how thick and heavy his cock was. Coming to sit on the bed beside you, he reached one hand to gently slide between your legs and push a space for his hand. Fingers brushing your clit before gently running over it with a slightly firmer pressure. 

“I’ve been a bad husband,” You opened your mouth to speak but he shook his head. “You’ve been upset, and I didn’t even pay enough attention to notice what was wrong.” Trailing down to run along your soaked entrance before sliding back up to your clit in a teasing pattern.  “You’ve stood beside everything I’ve said and done, always supported my decisions, but I haven’t been there to take care of you back.” 

This time you found your voice, stammering part way through as he slid a finger deep inside of you, “Robb you do take care of- me, fuck,” A gasp making you breathe out the rest in moan trying to hold back. “I don’t need you to be anything but exactly who you are.” 

Head thrown back as he slowly slid his finger out before pressing a second in deep to the knuckle, his other hand running along your forehead to move your hair gently off it. “You don’t deserve to be pregnant in the middle of a war, so far from our home.” His thumb running tightly over your clit as your stomach muscles seized at the pleasure growing within. “I should be taking you in our bed, not having you on the battlefield where I can’t promise your safety.” 

Your head felt as if it were sinking slowly underwater as your core screamed at you in addictive pressure. Reaching up, you grasped the wrist close to your head, running your thumb along his pulse as Robb picked up the speed of his fingers. “I, fuck, I belong wherever you are.” Robb’s chest rose and fell faster as he felt how wet and tightly you were clenching around him. 

Moving to press his lips against yours you wrapped an arm around his neck and into his hair once more. “You stay by my side now, no matter what. We don’t leave the other,” His tone warm and yet a bit possessive as he bit at your lips to gain entrance to your mouth, his hand adding a third to make you whine as his palm rubbed against your clit roughly. Your thighs tense and shaking but just as he wanted, you kept them nice and wide. 

Your breathe almost in needing high pitched pants when Robb pulled back, a smile on your lips that Robb could’ve melted at the sight of. You clenched around him and he could feel the pressure building inside you even despite your words. “From this day until our last day,” 

Just as Robb ran a hand over the top of your head, he pressed his forehead to yours with gentle shushes as you felt your orgasm shatter. Throwing you off the cliff into the waters below with no warning as his touch kept you from arching right off the sheets. You burned and almost could cry at the waves swimming inside you as he slowly pumped his fingers until your cries turned into unspoken begs of mercy. 

Giving no time, Robb kept them inside you as he kissed you again, “Turn over, my love.” 

Only sliding out as he climbed behind you, not giving you the chance to get onto your hands and knees properly before sitting on his heels, pressing your back against his chest as he moved your hair. Leaving sloppy kisses down your neck as he slid his cock between your legs, running along the teasing entrance with your hands wrapping behind you. “Robb, please,” 

With one hand on your hip, he spread the other wide across your stomach as he breathed heavily into your ear. “If only those men could see what perfect, needy little whore their pretty queen is.” You whined as he pressed his cock to tease more firmly against you. “It won’t take long, they’ll see how well their king fucks his queen soon enough.” Letting one of your hands fall to cover his on your stomach Robb grunted before sliding his cock inside of you. As he so loved to overwhelm you, he sunk as deep as he could go in one smooth thrust. 

Pulling a cry from your lips and a growling of swearing from him as he dropped his face more into your neck. Slowly, Robb fucked up into you. Barley giving much force as he drew his cock out and pushed back in so slow that the sound of how wet you were around him was obscene. “Fuck, anyone’d fight a war just for a chance at this cunt, kill whoever it took just to be able to feel how soaked you are around their cock.” 

His teeth leaving nibbles and his facial hair rubbing the sensitive marks raw and red as he moved his lips up and down. “Good thing I’m yours then, right?” You wanted to sound sultry but you couldn’t get through the words without almost breaking with a moan. 

Robb so thick inside of you, the stretch was a sting you never knew could be so perfect. He slid his cock inside of you so smoothly without ever picking the pace up. Every vein and ridge of his cock pressing against the sensitive wall inside of you that had tears creeping out. 

The hand on your waist moved, wrapping to force your face to turn to the side and let him capture your lips. His tongue meeting yours as gently and slowly exploring as his cock fucked you like maybe the world around you would stop as long as you two were intertwined. Only pulling from your lips long enough to slur out, his voice thick and accent strong as anything like he was to deep in how you felt around his cock to care if he was intelligible. “I love you, gods I love you.” 

You tried so desperately to say it back, but it was like he teased you by kissing you harder each time or fucking you deeply to tear a gasp from your throat. He smirked when you whined his name and laughed as he could see your brows furrowing when he kissed you again. 

Bodies covered in sweat, the coiling in your stomach build slowly as he took his time with you. Never speeding up, and always covering part of you with his hands, kiss, tongue, teeth and never letting go of your stomach. Instead choosing to press your hand down against the skin so he could rest it on top with his much larger hand consuming yours. 

Your orgasm is what had the tears rolling down, it was slow and not wild like fire but a slow consumption that took your body into the flames limb by limb before you were engulfed. Your chest felt like it was floating and your head in the clouds as Robb fucked you all the same through it before he followed. Cock buried deep as he came warm and thick into you, pressing his lips to yours as you finally found a chance to mutter out, “I love you, Robb, I truly do.” 

His muscles ached as he spilled inside of you before resting his face in your neck as you both slowly started to come down. “You don’t leave my side, either of you.” His hands now both running over your stomach as he knelt you more towards the bed. 

Robb turned you in his arms to face you, one hand running over your hip and stomach while he switched between looking at your eyes and below once more. You snuggled as much as you could into his chest, Robb running his nose along your hair as you pressed into his neck. 

Tomorrow, you’d have a funeral to begin leaving for, but maybe as cruel as it was, one life was given up for the other. His grandfather’s life leaving to join the gods, so that you and Robb still on the plains of the living could bring a new life together. 

A few name ideas for boys rolled around in his head, but he worried not. Robb would share enough children with you to honour all of them. He’d make sure of it just as much as he could see in the hope in your eyes, that you too, wanted all of it. 

It didn’t just startle Jon, it almost horrified him. His conscious mind desperate to justify his actions, fighting between telling himself what he knew was true, versus what he was lying to himself about to cope with the reality. 

If he didn’t think about it, he could ignore how this was supposed to be with you. He could pretend that it didn’t matter how this played out, or lie to himself and say it felt good because he wanted it. The alternative outside the walls of the cave was death, prove your worth or die and this was the path chosen for him to do so. 

As long as it felt good and he lied to himself, Jon could pretend as if he was fine with it. Until the image of you, dragging a hand to your stomach flashed before his eyes. The gentle brush of fingers against a stomach that he somehow knew was pregnant and he flushed with how clearly Ygritte thought such a physical response was for her. 

Jon could feel his hand against your stomach, and he could see a dream of a baby. Eyes coloured just as yours but the hair was dark and curls that he knew all too well on himself. Let him think it was for her, and maybe Jon would get through this and just accept that lie as truth. 

But Jon could see the child in his mind, the swell in your stomach and your breathless needy sigh in his ear that had been his only source of comfort in the rough beds at the wall. He could see all of it, and he felt shamed that on the other side of you, he could only envision himself, not the brother he knew it really was all for. 

Jon could pretend he wanted this, when he knew the opposite was true, that he didn’t send his only protection left away at her demand. He could pretend that she was just like you when the opposites were the reality, and Jon would lie to himself as long as she was with him that he did want it. 

Lying to himself about this was easier then admitting the truth, he was a grown man, he shouldn’t get to tell himself that he was forced into it. He should be better then that, and yet the only thought that kept Jon from cracking that resolve and leaving him broken, was the image of you with a child that should have been his. 

The image of a pregnant wife that looked nothing like the wildling girl who acted as if such a role belonged to her. The need in the sounds in his head that belonged to you when they were being given to his brother. 

He told you to love him, he wanted you to love him. But in this cave, Jon found no solace in the forced pleasure his body was having that you willing shared with his brother. His mind wasn’t settled and it burned him harder each time he could see the woman he was with. 

Jon did this beacuse he had no choice, and he would lie to himself about not being forced into it for as long as he needed to to handle such a truth. But Jon couldn’t hide from himself, that every time he saw you as he touched the wildling girl, it fed her delusion of what she was to him. She forced him into it, and pretended as if his pleasure was the only consent she needed. You never did and never would force him into a single thing if you thought he doubted or hesitated in wanting. You respected him like none ever did or still does.

And it fed the pain that made Jon want to scream. This didn’t belong to her. It belonged to you.  

[waevrs]

​ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇ

Pairings: Athlete!Shin Ryujin x Athlete! ShinRyujin

Tags: SMUT, kind of dub-con, rough sex

Summary: You guys have been rivals for ages...what happens when it finally boils over?

The track team's practice had ended, leaving the athletes drenched in sweat and the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the field. Among the runners, there were two fierce competitors whose rivalry had been a burning undercurrent for as long as anyone could remember. You, with your intense determination, stood at one end of the track. Your opponent, Ryujin, a tall and graceful sprinter known for her speed, occupied the other end.

Your rivalry was not just about who could run faster or jump higher; it was something far more complicated. An electrifying, unspoken sexual tension crackled between you two, a tension that had drawn the attention and curiosity of your teammates. You often found yourselves in a strange dance of competition and attraction, neither of you willing to admit the truth.

Today, the competition had been fierce, but you had emerged victorious once again, crossing the finish line with a triumphant grin. Ryujin, her chest heaving and her legs trembling with exhaustion, could barely contain her frustration. She had lost to you too many times, and every defeat stung like a wound to her pride.

After practice, you two rivals found yourselves in the cramped, dimly lit locker room, a silence hanging heavily between you. You took your time changing, relishing in your victory, while Ryujin seethed with anger, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't bear to lose to you again, and this time, her anger boiled over.

With a sudden, explosive outburst, Ryujin slammed her locker shut, making you jump in surprise. "This isn't fair!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with anger and frustration.

You turned to her, a bemused smirk playing on her lips. "What's not fair, Ryujin?" you asked, your tone teasing.

"You always win, even when I train so hard! You must be cheating, somehow."

You laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Are you really that sore about losing? Get over yourself, Ryujin."

Ryujin glared at you, her eyes flashing with anger. "I won't get over it, because you don't deserve to win!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the empty locker room.

"Oh yeah? What makes you think that?"

"You're always flirting with the coach, giving her those sexy smiles and batting your eyelashes. She's probably letting you win, just because you're such a slut!"

Your eyes widened in surprise, and your heart began to race. You had never expected Ryujin to be so direct about her jealousy, and her words ignited a flame of desire within you. You decided to take a bold risk, and you moved closer to her, your eyes locked on hers.

"So what if I am a slut? Are you jealous, Ryujin?" you asked, your voice low and husky.

"I'm not jealous, you're just a cheater!" Ryujin spat back, her cheeks flushing.

You could feel the sexual tension crackling between you, and you knew that you needed to act before the moment slipped away. You took another step towards her, closing the distance between you. "I don't think you're telling the truth," you whispered, your lips just inches from hers. "I think you're jealous because I get to fuck the coach and you don't."

You haven't fucked the coach and you never will but you wanted to see the depths of Ryujin's jealousy.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Ryujin breathed, her voice coming out harsh through her gritted teeth.

You were both fully aware of the sexual tension simmering between you, and it was impossible to deny any longer. Ryujin made the first move though, slamming you hard against the locker. You were caught off guard and gasped as her hands grabbed your hips. "I know what I'm talking about," she hissed, her eyes blazing with lust and jealousy. You struggled against her grip, but her strength was overwhelming.

She pinned you against the locker, her hands digging into your skin. "What do you think you're doing, Ryujin?" you gasped, your heart racing with anticipation.

"You've teased me long enough," Ryujin growled, her voice thick with desire. "It's time for you to learn what happens to sluts like you."

Her words sent a thrill through you, and you knew you were about to experience the most intense pleasure of your life. You didn't resist as she tugged at the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down to expose your soaked pussy.

"Look at you, so wet already," Ryujin sneered, her fingers sliding along your slick folds. "You're such a fucking slut, you'd probably let anyone fuck you."

"Is that what you want, Ryujin?" you taunted, arching your back and pushing your hips against her hand. "Do you want to fuck me?" "Not yet," Ryujin replied, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

You whimpered as she plunged two fingers deep inside you, curling them and hitting the sensitive spot that drove you wild. She was merciless, fucking you with her fingers, her thumb rubbing against your swollen clit. You writhed against her, your body begging for release.

"Beg me," she demanded, her breath hot against your neck.

"Fuck you," you groaned, refusing to give in.

"Beg me or I'll stop."

The threat of being left unsatisfied was too much for you to bear.

"Please," you gasped, your hips bucking against her hand. "Please fuck me, Ryujin."

With a satisfied grin, she pulled her fingers out and shoved you to the floor. You landed hard on your knees, and Ryujin immediately stripped off her clothes. You looked up at her, and she smirked down at you, her hand wrapping around the base of her strap-on.

"Y-You planned this?" You sputtered out incredulously, unable to take your eyes off of the size of her strap-on.

She ignored you, pushing her cock into your mouth. You gasped around her, taking as much of her into your mouth as you could. She was relentless, thrusting into your mouth and throat. Your body tensed as you struggled to take her, your eyes watering. She didn't slow, fucking your mouth until your lips were raw and your throat was aching.

"Now get up," she commanded, pulling out of your mouth. You rose unsteadily to your feet, your knees trembling. You turned to face the locker, your cheek pressed against the cool metal. Ryujin was behind you in an instant, her cock pressing against your entrance. You gasped as she slowly slid into you, your pussy stretching around her.

"F-Fuck," you moaned, your breath fogging up the metal. She began to move, thrusting into you with long, slow strokes. You could feel every inch of her sliding in and out of you, and it was driving you wild. You were completely at her mercy, and she knew it. She fucked you hard and fast, her hips slapping against your ass. Your moans echoed through the locker room, and you knew there was no going back now. Ryujin was going to fuck you senseless, and there was nothing you could do to stop her. Not that you wanted to. The pleasure was building inside you, threatening to explode. You pushed your hips back, desperate for more.

"Ryujin," you moaned, your body trembling. "I'm going to cum." "Not yet," she growled, reaching around and pressing her fingers against your clit. "Cum when I tell you to, slut."

You tried to hold on, but it was impossible. The pleasure was too much, and you came hard, screaming her name. Your body trembled, and your legs gave out. She held you up, fucking you relentlessly through your orgasm.

"Ryujin, please," you gasped, the pleasure bordering on pain. "I can't take anymore."

"I'll tell you when you've had enough," she growled, her voice dripping with lust.

She kept fucking you, her cock slamming into you. You were lost in a haze of pleasure and pain, and you could barely breathe. You were overwhelmed, and you could feel another orgasm building. "Cum again," she ordered, her voice harsh. "Cum for me, slut." You couldn't hold back, and you came again, your pussy clenching around her cock. Your juices came squirting out and all over her strap, thighs, and locker room floor. Your body shook and then went slack in her arms.

Ryujin didn't let up, her hips slamming into you. Your body was limp, and she held you up as she fucked you. Her cock was buried deep inside you, and the feeling of her strap-on dragging against your over-sensitive walls was too much. You could barely stand, your legs trembling.

"Cum again," she hissed, her fingers digging into your hips. "I can't," you gasped, the pleasure too intense. "Do it."

You were helpless to resist, and you squirted again. You screamed her name, your body spasming. Your orgasm was more intense than anything you'd ever felt before, and you could barely think straight. "Ryujin," you cried, your voice hoarse. "Please, I can't take any more." She finally slowed, her cock sliding out of you. Your legs gave out, and she lowered you gently to the ground. You lay there, spent and exhausted, your heart pounding.

"Holy shit," you breathed, unable to believe what had just happened. "Yeah," Ryujin replied, her voice thick with satisfaction. "That was pretty fucking intense."

You slowly sat up, your muscles aching. "How long have you wanted to do that?"

"A long time," Ryujin admitted, a smile playing on her lips.

"Me too," you confessed, your heart swelling with emotion. "But I never thought you felt the same way."

"I do," Ryujin said, leaning down and kissing you softly. You melted into her kiss, and you knew that things had changed between you. The rivalry had turned into something else, something more intimate and real. You didn't care who won anymore, and neither did she.

All you cared about was each other.

[inkedreverie]

𝑨𝑳𝑾𝑨𝒀𝑺 𝑶𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫

warnings: 18+ content. minors dni! p in v sex, angst, slight knife kink if you squint, soft!dark! lloyd, non-con that slowly turns into dub-con, kidnapping, slight dacryphilia.

pairing: soft!dark! lloyd hansen x ex-girlfriend!reader

summary: After a painful breakup, Lloyd Hansen kidnaps his ex-girlfriend, seeking both her affection and the satisfaction of getting even for her betrayal. Will she be able to escape his clutches, or will Lloyd get the last laugh?

prompt: 16: in a private jet,  on the way to a business trip. 

author’s note: anon, I hope you enjoy this! I loved writing this and kind of got carried away with the word count! Also I tried my best to make this soft!dark.

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Lloyd Hansen is whipped. It’s not something he’s willing to admit. And he’s not going to. At least, not yet. He had been with a lot of women throughout the years but none of them left a mark the way she did. It’s been about a month since the two of them broke up. And he still can’t get her out of his head. It’s infuriating! She’s all he can think or dream about. She’s becoming a nuisance. He can barely focus on his current mission. And to him, it’s all her fault.

He drops everything mid way through his flight. He demands the pilots alter the course to pick her up. There’s no way he’s going to be able to finish this mission without Y/N. And he’s positive once he has her, everything will be fine. He’s smiling, just thinking of all the sick things he has planned for her. He wants her to pay. Sure, maybe he would think differently if it had been his idea to break up but no, it had been hers.

When they land the plane at the local airport, Lloyd recognizes the town as if he were born and raised there. He has been obsessed with Y/N ever since she ended their relationship. At first, he struggled to cope, pushing her out of his mind and trying to move on, but Y/N was ever-present, like an unlucky penny. He tried everything to get over her but she kept coming back to haunt him, leaving him with an unquenchable thirst for her.

By the time he reached her house, the sun had set and everything was going according to plan. A couple of his men suggested that they would handle the situation but Lloyd insisted - he wanted to be the one to capture and abduct Y/N. It was only fair, after the months of pain and suffering she had caused him. He was determined to make her pay.

As he crept into her tiny home, avoiding the creaky floorboards, he felt anxiety wash over him. But then Y/N's scent hit him like a wave - a mix of vanilla and lavender that left him aching for more. He was careful and precise, his movements graceful and silent, like a hunter stalking his prey. He wanted her, and he was going to get her, no matter what. The thought of her in his power made him grin, a sick, twisted smirk that didn't leave his face. He was finally going to make her pay for breaking his heart.

Lloyd remembers the last time they spoke like it was yesterday. It had replayed in his mind like a broken record, forever on loop and torturing his soul.

Y/N stormed into her house, Lloyd hot on her heels. He slammed the door behind them, "What the hell were you doing with him?!" He seethed. His hands were clenched into fists, and his eyes narrowed as he glared at her.

She whirled to face him, and her anger boiled up inside. "For the last time, we were just talking!" She slammed her purse on the couch. "Oh my god!" Her voice rose to a yell, "I can't do this! You're jealous all the fucking time, and I can't do this anymore!"

His jaw clenched, and his hands rested on his hips. "So just like that? You can't just walk out of my life like this!" The anger dripping from his words was palpable.

"You think I want this?" Y/N shouted back. "I don't! But it's gotten to a point where I can't breathe! You're suffocating me!" She felt her heart breaking, but knew she had to stand up for herself. "Please, just leave Lloyd."

Her words seemed to cut him deep, and he looked hurt. Something in Y/N's stomach twisted, and she knew that this was the end. They couldn't keep going on like this.

Her last words echoed in the space between them, and Y/N knew that she had made the right decision. Their relationship had been unhealthy, and it was time for both of them to move on. She watched as Lloyd left her house, and a small sense of peace washed over her. It would be hard, but she knew she would be okay. She was strong, and she was ready to face whatever came next.

He’s pulled from his thoughts the moment he sees her as he enters the bedroom, moving close to the walls to remain hidden in the shadows. His lips curl into a sly smile as he takes in the sight of Y/N swaying in the bathroom, still in her pajamas, humming to herself and finishing her skin routine at the mirror. Y/N’s breath catches in her chest at the sight of him in her reflection, her heart pounding, frozen in place.

He takes a step closer, the cold steel of the knife pressed against her neck, his free hand wrapped around her waist. With a wicked grin stretching across his features, he takes a deep breath, his nose trailing down her throat, eliciting a shudder down her spine. Her mind races, searching for a way out of this, but she can’t move, can’t think. She’s trapped, and they both know it. “Did you miss me, Princess?” he whispers in her ear. 

The moment feels like it stretches on endlessly, each beat of her heart pounding in her chest as he holds her in his grip. She can hear his hot breath on her neck, and feels a sense of dread wash over her as he speaks in a voice dripping with malice. "You're coming with me," he says in an unforgiving tone. She knows she has no choice but to be at his mercy, trapped in his grasp with no way to escape.

Lloyd can hear her heavy breaths and feels the sweat dripping down her neck. He can see the slight tremble in her body as her back presses against his firm chest, and it only adds to his sick delight, knowing that she's already fearful of him. When she doesn't speak, he follows up his earlier threat by trailing the flat part of his knife against her chest, adding to the terror that now courses through her veins.

 The cool touch of the blade against her skin sent chills up her spine, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and goosebumps cover her arms. "Now," Lloyd breathed out, stopping the knife just above the neckline of her top and between the valley of her breasts.

 "Are you going to be a good girl, or are we going to do this my way?" His voice carried a sinister edge that was impossible to ignore. It was as if he was daring her to do the wrong thing, to give him a reason to hurt her.

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling a sense of fear grip her heart. She knew this situation was delicate and that Lloyd was unstable. She could feel his anger radiating off of him, and hear it in the bitterness of his voice. "Lloyd, you don't have to do this," she whispered, fighting hard to keep her voice steady. 

She felt a sense of panic rise within her as Lloyd's hand gripped her jaw. She knew that she had to stay calm and try to talk him down, but the fear was overwhelming, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She tried to take slow, deep breaths to steady herself, but it was difficult with Lloyd's hot breath on her face. She hoped that somehow she could diffuse the situation before it escalated further.

But she knew the stakes were high, that this was a dangerous game she was playing, and one wrong word might set him off. She had to try to diffuse the tension, to find a way out of this mess before it was too late.

Lloyd's knife clicked and retracted into his pocket without another word. He chuckled darkly and pushed her against the wall of the bathroom, causing her to choke out a gasp. Grabbing her hips, he turned her to face him. His gloved hand gripped her jaw, squeezing it with a firm grasp but not enough to leave a bruise.

"I do, sweetheart," Lloyd seethed, his voice laced with venom and anger. "You've made my life a living hell, and you're going to pay for it," he continued, his dark eyes boring into her own, daring her to defy him. His breath was hot against her face, and she could feel his rage emanating from him in waves.

Y/N winced under his harsh grasp, feeling the rough texture of his glove against her skin, evoking a small whimper from her lips. Her heart raced as he started to reach into his pocket, her eyes darted from his heated gaze to his hand that was now reaching into his back pocket. “C-can’t we just talk about this?” She stuttered out, her lip now trembling.

He let out a dark, sadistic chuckle, enjoying how her fear made him more determined and hungry for her. “Oh, sunshine, the time for talking is way past due,” he said with a twist of his lips, his hand slipping down to her throat and causing her to gasp. She instinctively struggled against his hold, fear flooding her heart before he pulled out a cloth and covered her mouth, her vision blurring as she slipped into unconsciousness.

–

Y/N awoke to a slight chill in the air, feeling the soft texture of the luxurious bed against her bare arms. She licked her dry lips as she strained her wrists in her bonds, feeling the slight burn from the friction. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to her new surroundings; the small circular window showcasing a nighttime sky filled with stars, and the steady hum of the plane's engines.

But what caught her eye were the sleek, dark gray walls, contrasting sharply against the marble floor and the narrow and sleek design of the plane. A modern style fit for a king, yet Y/N felt a slight familiarity to it, as if she had been here before. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and her heart threatened to stop. She was on Lloyd's private jet.

Her heart pounds against her ribcage as she hears loud footsteps coming down the narrow hallway. Lloyd enters the room and stands in front of her, his figure towering over her. The tense silence between them is thick with fear, and Y/N's body trembles in anticipation of what was to come. She had no idea how she ended up here, or what Lloyd's intentions were, but she knew one thing for sure: she had to find a way off this plane.

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally awake,” Lloyd said with a twisted smile, his eyes watching her carefully, a hint of mockery in his tone.

"Is this some kind of sick joke? I'm not amused," Y/N says, her voice filled with frustration and irritation as she meets Lloyd's eyes with a piercing stare, the words coming out in a challenging tone.

"Oh, sweetheart. This isn't a joke at all. I'm quite serious." A mischievous grin played on his lips as he took a step closer, his calloused fingers roughly gripping her chin. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, his hot breath tickling her skin. She felt like her heart was racing at his closeness.

"You've been quite the distraction," he admitted, his voice low and seductive. She could feel his body heat radiating against hers as he spoke, his breath fanning her ear. It sent shivers down her scalp and raised the hairs on her neck. His thumb traces the outline of her jaw before he touches her bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. “So, you see, there’s only one thing left to do.” He adds, his voice low and husky as his blue eyes locked with hers, laced with a familiar desire and hungriness that she’s seen before.

She swallows hard, a determined look on her face despite the warm sensation building in her lower stomach. She's determined to stand up for herself, even if all she can do is yell. "Don't touch me!", she spits out, straining against her restraints once more.

Lloyd snickers, grabbing her by the throat and digging his fingers in. "Oh, Y/N," he purrs, letting go of her neck before turning her and shoving her down onto the plush mattress. She hits the bed with a thud, her cheeks pressed against the soft covers as the air escapes her lungs. Lloyd steps back, his fingers still curled into a fist as he looks down at her.

The silence between them is thick with tension, the only sounds coming from her breathing and the soft rustling of the sheets. He leans forward again, hovering his face inches from hers. She can feel his body heat against her, and the warmth radiating off his skin is palpable. His breath is hot and stale in her face, and she can see his pupils dilating in the low light.

"So that's how it's gonna be, huh?" he hisses, his words barely loud enough to be heard.

She's too afraid to move, frozen in place by the threat in his voice. She knows that one wrong word, one false move, could escalate the situation into something beyond her control. The fear is written all over her face, and she strains even harder against her restraints, trying to break free. The rope stings as it digs and rubs against her skin. But it's no use - Lloyd has complete control of the situation.

Lloyd lets out a sharp laugh, his eyes fixed on her with a mixture of amusement and cruelty. As she struggles against him, her attempts to break free seem only to egg him on. He grabs hold of her pants, grinning widely as he pulls them down.

Her eyes widen in shock, and she tries to scoot away, still trying to get her bearings. Her heart thuds in her chest as the sound of a zipper being lowered reaches her ears. Tears pool in the corners of her eyes as the reality of what’s  happening sets in. She doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to think that Lloyd could be capable of such a thing.

Her voice becomes a choked whisper, and she shakily tries to  reason with him, “L-lloyd, please… don’t do this!”

He only laughs again, his grin growing wider as he leans down once again, his lips against the shell of her ear. The smell of his breath is hot and thick on her cheek, making her stomach churn. She continues to squirm, desperate to get away, her body tensed and her breath coming short gasps. She’s never felt so vulnerable and scared in her entire life, and she can’t believe that she’s in this situation with a man she used to trust.

Her heart aches, and tears continue to stream down her face as she comes to a terrifying realization… that she’s at the mercy of a man who has no mercy. 

“Lloyd, don’t…” Y/N sobs as she feels him grab her hips again, forcing her to bend her knees. “Oh, sweetheart ,” he purrs at the sight of her bare cunt. “I’m going to enjoy this.” He grips the shaft of his cock, pressing the wet tip against her slick folds. He looks down at her with a self satisfied grin before shoving himself in one swift motion. He doesn’t care to let her walls stretch around him. The burning sensation mixes with a sensation of pleasure  as she chokes out a gasp. 

More tears stream down her cheeks as her body betrays her, slick drips down her thighs. She doesn’t want to feel this way but she can’t deny how good this feels as he pounds into her, his cock so deep she can feel every inch of him. He’s not soft or gentle. Lloyd grunts, his fingertips digging into skin of her hips. She's sure he’s gonna leave a mark. “What’s wrong, pumpkin? Can’t take it?” He mocks with a rough thrust into her that sends her gasping, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Y/N clenches her hands into fists, wishing she could hold onto something–anything. But all she can do is lay there and take it. Her cheek still pressed against the sheets, ass up in the air as she feels his hips snapping  against her ass. “H-hate you. S-so much!” She whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut as her cunt clenches around him. 

“No. You hate that you like it.” He retorts, a smirk on his lips. When he bends down to untie the rope  binding her wrists, a wave of relief washes over her. The pressure on her skin eases, and she can move her hands for the first time in hours. But even with her wrists free, the intensity of Lloyd’s touch remains intense. She grips the sheets tightly, holding back a soft moan as he continues at a brutal pace. Despite her efforts to muffle it, she knows he hears her, and there’s a hint of amusement in his expression.

“That’s it, baby. Give in. Y/N. You’ve been craving this, haven’t you? Missed my cock filling you up?” When she doesn’t answer, he growls, leaning forward and pulling her back with his fist in her hair. Her back comes in contact with his chest, his hand slipping from her hair and wrapping tightly around her waist. The next thing she felt was his lips trailing over her shoulder, his thrusts never relenting.  

His mouth trails sloppy kisses up her neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin as his hands trail over the thin fabric of her tank before he pulls it down, revealing her bare breasts to the cool air of the plane. A low groan slips past his lips as her tits bounce as he speeds up. “You’re mine, you hear me?” He grumbles into her ear. “Mine. Never gonna let you go.” Without another word, Lloyd begins kneading her breasts, making her gasp. “You like that, don’t you? C’mon, sweetheart. I wanna hear you say it.”

He craved her; that was a fact. It didn’t matter what she thought about him, how much she despised him, or how desperately she tried to ignore the desire that burned within her. He had a hold on her, and he knew it. “I’m yours.” Y/N breathed out before closing her eyes as she felt her walls clench around him. That was enough for Lloyd. He’d been trying his best to stay in control this whole time but he couldn’t wait any longer. With his right hand, he gripped her chin, pressing his lips against hers fervently. 

There was nothing sweet or short about the kiss, his hips grinding deep into her cunt, making her moan against his mouth. “That’s right. You’re mine, sweetheart. Forever.” His hand fists her hair once more, pulling her against his chest tighter and kissing her neck. His balls throbbing every time he felt her clench around him. Lloyd groaned as he felt his body tense before his cum spilled out of her.

He gently laid her back down on the bed, leaning down to give her a soft kiss on the forehead. “Sleep well, pumpkin. I’ll be back shortly.” He whispered, pulling up his pants and shoving himself back in his slacks. He grabbed a blanket, watching as her breathing slowed down and her eyes fluttered shut. Lloyd gave her one last look before he strided down the hallway, preparing to land and take out his next target.

banners credit: @.saradika & @.fic-dumpster

[charlesjosephwrites]

Find the Word Tag

Thanks for the tag @oh-no-another-idea!!

My words were grieve, grace, game, and grin.

I did find all of these words in The Magician and Ms. Psychic, but grieve and grace both happen to be in sentences with Major Spoilers so I'm just gonna double up on snippets for the other words since they both appear multiple times.

game

“Listen.” I slapped my hand on the table. “I would suggest a straight up fight, but since you like to cheat by not even letting me get close to you, I’d like to suggest something a little bit more fair.” I pulled a deck of cards from my pocket to plop on the table between us. “A game of poker! You win, and I’ll back off and let you do your thing, but if I win…” I couldn’t help the little grin that tugged at the corners of my lips as I leaned forwards on the table on both hands. “I get to peel off your skin to make a cute new pair of boots.” Ms. Psychic frowned. “Playing cards with a magician isn’t really my idea of a fair fight.”

game pt 2

“Fuck that.” I guided her gaze away from the house with a gentle hand. “If you go back there, he wins. You gotta let him seethe a little. Give him a chance to realize what an asshat he’s being.” Claire bit down on her bottom lip. “I’m not sure mind games would work on my dad” “Or maybe I could go give him a piece of my mind.” A curl of hair flopped into my face as I squared my shoulders. “Someone needs to make him realize that he shouldn’t talk to you like that.” I turned around, ready to march in there and yoink a few bones, but Claire tugged me closer before I could get too far. “I… I don’t think…” Her voice trailed off, and she took a deep breath. “I don’t think he was trying to say anything wrong. He just wants what’s best for me.”

grin

“Muncher.” I exhaled sharply. “Are you there?” Another several seconds of silence passed before a faint static sound bubbled through the shitty walkie-talkie speaker. “You didn’t say ‘over.’ Over.” “Muncher.” I brought the walkie-talkie up a little closer to my mouth with an annoyed huff. “What the fuck?” After another long moment of silence, I added an exasperated, “Over.” “Just following the sacred rules of the walkie-talkie.” I could practically hear the shit eating grin on Myles’ face through the static. “Over.”

grin pt 2

“What the heck?” Hermes’ voice squeaked. "Get these off of me." I couldn't help but grin as I watched Hermes try and fail to pull himself free from the handcuffs. “Not gonna happen, kiddo.” I walked backwards through the vault door. Metal clanged as Hermes tugged on his handcuffs again. “Magician.” He stomped his foot. “I’m serious.” “I am too.” I placed one hand on the side of the vault door. “Naughty kids deserve to be put in time out.”

I'll tag @ahordeofwasps, @wordwizards, @thelittlestspider, and anyone else who sees this and wants to play along.

Your words are lose, let, left, and letter.

[artsycervidae]

Day 3: Path

Gyutaro Shabana from Demon Slayer

Misogyny and violence abound. I appreciate a slimy Gyu

The night air was noxious to him. Gyutaro's nails raked over his collarbone with an absent-minded repetition as he seethed and simmered. It was Daki's fault that he was miserable, as usual. He loved his sister to pieces, but she'd fucked him over to an unforgivable degree.

There was only one way to get rid of this feeling, and he didn't want to be around Daki. So he took for the path, outside the lights and noise of the entertainment district. Let her deal with things at home herself, if she thought she was so competent. And despite the intention to hunt, he found himself too far in the silence, too pissed NOT to mope and feel sorry for himself.

He was the one who dealt the killing blow on the hashira that had infiltrated their cover. He had cut the human down to mincemeat before it could even process that Daki's beheading did nothing. Gyutaro had enacted his revenge with vicious speed, and Daki had been so grateful. The blubbering, sobbing girl clung at his legs like a child as she wailed her failures at him, insisting she had tried her HARDEST and even her BEST wasn't enough. As usual, he cooed and petted her hair, reminding her that she could only do so much after all. He would never raise a hand against her, because it wasn't her fault that she was so stupid and weak sometimes.

The thanks he received was to be erased from his own accomplishment. Muzan himself had arrived. He wasn't pleased, but he was certainly interested in the siblings whose only saving grace in death was having been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Until then, they had been brats benefiting from the sympathy of a more competent demon. Daki could have woken Gyutaro, let him bask in the bloodcurdling fear and awe that Muzan's venomous stare deigned to offer. She could have even just told Muzan the truth.

But she didn't. The reminder of her treachery made his sharp teeth sheath into his lips. She was swept away by her own emotions, eager as a bitch to wag her stupid ass and make herself look good. She said it worked.

No shit it worked, Gyutaro had snarled at her: she groveled like a whore, and so there was no doubt in his mind that Muzan only viewed them as such. Entertaining. Wasn't she supposed to be classy? Wasn't she one of the most talented girls in this rotting district?

She cried. She called him a hypocrite. And called him ugly. Among various other things.

Gyutaro had to remove himself from the premises, lest he lose his nerve and fuck up everything, like Daki might have in his position. He had to be better than her, as the older brother. She couldn't help being stupid, easy, trusting, and of so low-self value that she had to lie and cheat for any substitute for respect. All she had was her beauty, and though that alone unlocked potential in this line of work, it wasn't enough for her. She was squandering a learning opportunity and getting high and mighty, as though she were any better than him. As though she would be anything but a feeble, dead human without him.

He hated this. He hated being angry at her, he hated feeling pathetic, but he hated even more that she made him feel angry and pathetic. Probably because she was so unhappy being as stupid as she was that she just couldn't help lashing out sometimes.

"It's not fair!"

Gyutaro had been still, but his ear pricked at the far-off raised voice. A second person was trying to shush them. Too late.

Gyutaro moved quicker than the human eye could possibly track him; he may as well have been a trick of shadow or a breeze. He had been upwind of them, but now that he knew the direction of his targets, he could smell two thundering hearts and the reak of fear already. The idea that not one but two humans could have simply walked into his territory irritated him. His nails ripped the skin from the side of his throat. Scratch, scratch scratch.

Even from within the dense trees on a cloudy night, he could still see them, clear as glass. A man and a woman, standing in the middle of the path. So stupid. They were making a scene out in the open, at night, no less! Hadn't they ever traveled before? Had they never heeded the bedtime stories of demons pouring out from the mountains and forests at night to feast on the weak?

"Let's just go," the woman, kneeling on the ground, beseeched. To say she was kneeling wasn't quite accurate, and it took Gyutaro a moment to realize the garments draped over her shoulders were sizes too big. She was tiny-- not like a child, but like someone who was shrinking away into nothing, an optical illusion of something whirling around the drain.

The man was glaring at the ground with tears clenched as hard as his jaw. Opposite to her, he stood tall and broad as a wall, facing Gyutaro's direction as though to block this path from the district. His fists sank by his sides and trembled. Both of them were angry, but the man's body temperature spiked with a particular, familiar tang. "You mean run away?"

The shrinking woman shrank more. Now she was kneeling. "Why not?" she cried softly, and Gyutaro also realized the wheezing was her typical volume. The holler from earlier must have been a result of all the rage she could muster. "You don't deserve this. I don't deserve this!" With every retort, she deflated, as if losing her power. And she was. Gyutaro could smell their sweat, breaths, organs, and saliva. The girl was poisoned-- maybe she would survive it, but maybe not, especially if she went untreated for a day more. A current thrilled his nerves alive and he shot a grin to the scythes in his fists. Poison, he thought, would be something Daki hadn't considered.

He imagined briefly the next time Daki tried to take credit for his kill. How all Gyutaro would have to do is ask the dose she used for that hashira corpse there, and smile as she floundered. Then he would pat her head, like the good sport he was. She couldn't lie her way out of that one.

"That's how you would repay them," the man sounded hollow. "When they took us in, they gave us what little they had. And you refuse to do even this, for us, to help earn money."

"No, that's not what this is," she argued, and the sharp breath she drew was rattling. "He's hurt you too... if I'm here, you still have to go back to them. She won't stop him from--"

"If you're here," he interrupted, changing tactics abruptly, "then you can make money. And maybe... maybe someone good will find you."

The familiar taste of his panic struck home, and Gyutaro was aloft with pleasure. It was guilt, the kind that any decent swordsman would feel upon stumbling across Gyutaro midmeal. The helplessness of knowing someone's life lay on the line, and you couldn't do shit about it.

"I don't want--"

"And they'll take care of you!" the man urged, talking over her now. His palms were sweating. "You're such a beautiful woman--"

"Brother--" her lower lip wobbled as he continued, as if he hadn't heard her.

"You have a kind heart, Ayame. I know the girls will take care of you," his voice hitched and his mouth trembled. "And you'll get better. Someone will--"

Gyutaro had taken advantage of the spat to move in a wobbly pattern, mimicking the wind through the leaves and the shivering of branches. It would have been more efficient to circle behind the man, cutting off their escape and slicing them both into pieces. His need for relief had outweighed his sense-- his raw skin stung against the rush of wind as he surged forward and sank both his blades into her torso.

Killing had become something of an art to him. Daki had her own hobbies-- theater, dancing, music-making, tea-steeping-- girly things. It had a place in her work. His interests were more refined and necessary in the real world, where humans were just meat.

He had lofted the body above the ground with ease, as if pushing her out to her companion. He allowed the briefest pause: enough for their eyes to widen and their mouths to drop open in horror. And before the high note of her ghostly yelp, Gyutaro ripped her apart, her two halves divorcing like brute-forcing through a sliding door. Her blood splattered and her insides smeared across the path. The scream wafted out through shredded lung matter.

The man screamed-- he had fast reflexes for a human. Most would have still been standing there in shock over what happened. He had ran to the side of the road and hauled up a fallen bough-- a sword?-- that had served as a walking stick. Gyutaro didn't hesitate: despite the intrusive worrying, he knew that Corps warriors weren't so sluggish. The bough shattered on Gyutaro's shoulder, which tickled, and Gyutaro barreled the human down and pinned him to the ground with a scythe through each shoulder.

"Hey now," Gyutaro 'cheerily' spoke, and when the human wouldn't stop hollering, he simply put his hand over the man's mouth. Bite as a desperate animal may, Gyutaro's skin was like leather and wouldn't break. "What's going on here?"

The man shouted, muffled and incoherent, and Gyutaro rolled his eyes. "Oh," he commiserated, "yeah. About that. I know I should mind my own business. But, really, what would a silly girl like her know? Then again," he feigned confliction with a furrow of his brow, "Maybe she had a point... you were kind of throwing her to the wolves, huh? Leaving her all alone, as if that was the right thing to do."

The man howled into the offending palm again, bucking and thrashing and kicking Gyutaro in the legs. Annoyed, Gyutaro reached back with his free hand. With each snap of the bone and crush of muscle, the man screamed and seized in silent agony.

Gyutaro continued chatting. "Siblings are always supposed to look out for each other. You should know better, being oldest and all. And imagine: the last words she heard from you were your shitty excuses to shrug her off."

Somewhere in his animal brain, the man seemed to comprehend. Or maybe he was crying from the pain of having broken legs now. At this point, Gyutaro didn't care. The reactions he was getting were satisfying regardless. "Maybe you really didn't care. She wasn't your real sister anyway... what? You didn't know?!" Gyutaro's face split from ear to ear as the brother's eyes glazed over. "Hahah! Idiot! What kind of guy doesn't even know who his family is? No wonder you were so bad at taking care of her. You just didn't have it in you. I guess you have potential, though. I could give you pointers. Oh, we would have to find you a new sister though. You don't have an issue with replacing family members, clearly, so--"

Gyutaro stopped when he realized that he was talking to himself. The man's heart had jerked and stammered and stopped. Gyutaro sneered and grabbed the man's face more forcibly. "Hey," he drawled, rotten loathing dripping from his maw. "Hey, I was TALKING to you."

No reply. Gyutaro leaned forward and crushed the man's head in. It gave like a thumb through an egg shell.

It brought him no relief. Suddenly, Gyutaro didn't have an appetite.

[voxofthevoid]

Kidnapping Wednesday #6 (I am so close to losing track of these), but something a little different this time!

Last week, I wrote a chapter that's 8.5k and pretty much all sex. I thought it'd be fun to calculate the word count of each sex act...because why the fuck not?

I present the results, in the narrative sequence, with (entirely unedited) excerpts.

CWs: All the typical canon goyuu warnings plus a shitton of porn

Kissing/making out: 1426 words

Gojou tastes like the soda; that sweet, fruity thing he drank after dinner, draining Yuuji’s can too when his stomach revolted after a single sip. Berries, their cloying sweetness mingling with the taste of Gojou’s flesh to become something Yuuji could get drunk on. He tries, sucking on Gojou’s tongue while digging his nails into Gojou’s neck and plucking at his buttons with his other hand. It’s a struggle, undoing them. Yuuji’s hand is trembling. His whole body is trembling, and Gojou’s steady warmth doesn’t do a thing to help. He loosens his grip on Gojou’s nape with every intent of using both hands on the shirt, but then he thinks of Gojou taking that as reason to pull away, to end this, to say Tachibana’s name again with that softly mocking tilt that does nothing to hide the anger seething in every syllable— He rips the shirt, a violent line from collar to hip. The buttons pop, pelting Yuuji’s chest. Gojou makes a soft, hungry noise; Yuuji drinks it down and chases it with tongue and teeth. He flattens his hand over the newly bared skin, palming the firm curve of a pectoral. The nipple gets caught between his fingers, and Yuuji clamps them tighter until Gojou’s breath shudders into a quiet hiss. This is the part where Gojou hauls him to bed, the part where he paws at Yuuji until he claws back; this is a dance Yuuji learned without meaning to, do or die, and he’s used to Gojou leading. Gojou does nothing.

Body worship: 1140 words

Yuuji grips his pants a little tighter, chancing an upward glance. Gojou’s watching him; of course he is. It’s not fair, how his eyes can look burn with ice and fire at the same time, and it’s even worse, how they chill Yuuji to the bone and set his blood on fire. “No need to wait for permission,” he tells Yuuji. “Take them off if you want.” Yuuji bows his head, closing his eyes. Only for a second. He can’t afford more than that. He doesn’t think too much about the want, focusing on the pants. Gojou’s cooperative, raising his hips and lifting his legs. He even holds his feet still when Yuuji lingers at the foot of the bed to take his socks off. Gojou has strangely graceful feet, long and arched. Even the veins running along the sides look a bit pretty—branching rivers, blue and true. Yuuji doesn’t think about the impulse to kiss them either, only acts, and Gojou’s foot twitches in his grip but doesn’t break free, and this time, when Yuuji closes his eyes, he keeps them closed, feeling his way up Gojou’s leg by lips alone. He mouths his way all the way to the crease of a thigh, cheek brushing more fabric—a sorry scrap of it. He saw Gojou’s underwear when he undressed him. It’s more of a thong than anything, so flimsy that Yuuji genuinely wonders how it’s…holding all of Gojou in.

Blowjob: 1874 words

Yuuji tries to focus on the stretch of his lips and the heat in his mouth. The taste. It’s stronger without any fabric in the way, and the closest Yuuji’s gotten to tasting cock is licking his own hand after jerking off, which was an instant bout of regret the first and last time he tried it. Gojou’s not so bad right now, the fluid at the tip blandly salty, and the rest of tasting mostly like sweat, with a darker undertone that isn’t really unpleasant. Mostly though, it’s just strange. He swallows more of it, wrapping a hand around the base to better guide it into his mouth. His lips meet the circle of his fist, and he pries his fingers away to try and take those inches too. The thick head nudging at his throat is a hell of a lot girthier than Sukuna’s fingers, but it’s not really hard getting it deeper once he gets the angle right. Yuuji keeps going until his nose is buried in the pale thatch of hair at the base of Gojou’s cock. He can’t breathe. And his mouth is full, stuffed in a way that’s uncomfortably strange. It’s the throat that’s the issue, Yuuji trying on reflex to swallow or breathe or both and winding up convulsing uselessly around Gojou’s cockhead. It’s still leaking, precome dribbling down his throat in thin, ticklish lines.

Anal sex: 2313 words

He spreads Gojou’s cheeks with his free hand, and the sight of his tight, puckered hole makes Yuuji’s gut clench helplessly. He guides his cock to it; this part, at least, is a lot more familiar than putting his mouth on Gojou’s cock. Except— At first, Yuuji thinks he just slipped, clumsy with nerves and need both. He tries again, achingly deliberate, but his cock just slides over Gojou’s hole, and it doesn’t even feel like he’s touched skin before the head is digging into the delicate line of his taint. He sees the way Gojou’s rim clenches at that, an invitation as clear as anything, but when Yuuji tries to get inside a third time, his cock just slides uselessly between Gojou’s cheeks. The touch of his fingers confirms what Yuuji already knew in the back of his mind. There’s Infinity layered over Gojou’s goddamn asshole. “What the fuck?” Yuuji asks helplessly. “Gojou-san, what are you doing?” A lone blue eye meets him over Gojou’s shoulder, blazing like an alien sun. “Beg for it.” Yuuji’s whole body freezes. “What?” “If you want it, if you want me,” Gojou says, and it’s there again, that bright, manic note in his voice, mad to the bone, “beg for it, Yuuji.”

Rimming/fingering: 1061 words

If you want me, Gojou said. If his want is all Gojou needs, he can have it. Yuuji has an abundance of hunger. He’ll eat this man bleu. He tugs at that reddened rim, pulling Gojou a little more open. More of his come trickles out, the white of it a sweet shock against the bruised pink of Gojou’s hole. Yuuji licks it up, dragging the flat of his tongue from Gojou’s taint to his hole. “Yuuji!” There’s a jolt as violent as his name, but Gojou doesn’t really go anywhere, his hole pressed sweet and hot to Yuuji’s tongue even as he shudders like a dying thing. Yuuji licks at him again, light and tentative. He’s never done this before, only seen it in videos. He’s read it too, in some of the filthier stuff he found in Gojou’s generous collection of e-books, and he thought it was weird the first time, disgusting even, but he remembers going back to it sometime after he was inside Gojou the first time, haunted by the memory of how it’d felt to feel his come drip out of Gojou. He doesn’t feel disgusted now; he’s just hungry.

Anal sex: 592 words

Post-coital conversation: 171 words

The last two sections are too short for excerpts, and I think this post is too long already lol.

[wearevillaneve]

Endgame.

Q: When is a good time to leave a fandom? A: When there's no future to look forward to and a past too painful to look back at. Welcome to the 2023 Killing Eve fandom and here's the latest news. There is no news. There is nothing in development. The stars of the show have parted ways and moved on to new projects and so have many in the fandom. But don't take my word for it.

Good question. What else is there to talk about Killing Eve? How long can you be bummed the fuck out by that ending? How many times can you watch that sweet kiss between Eve and Villanelle and wonder what kind of life they could have had together if only a better writer than Laura Neal was in command of their destiny? How many times will you think about a Season Four rewatch only to wonder why bother? Wine improves over the passage of time, but nothing's going to make that shitty ending better. Anger and resentment can only take you so far. After it fades into disgust and depression, it's just a grey cloud hanging over your head while it eats you up inside.

KE fanfics have helped me get through the depression and disgust I felt after the finale, but the seething rage at Neal and Sally Woodward Gentle though---that has not gone away.

I keep thinking there's something more to say about Killing Eve and how it went from being born for greatness before sliding into mediocrity before the bitter disappointment of the finale. I keep thinking that, but really what more needs to be said about it?

In the immediate aftermath of "Hello, Losers" the KE fandom went hunting for bastards to blame. The obvious targets were head writer Laura Neal and chief producer Sally Gentle and coupled with some truly awful interviews by the pair in Collider, Decider, and the Hollywood Reporter, they went out of their way to justify being cast as the villains. Afterward, more witches needed to be set alight, and some fans, including some I personally respect, settled on Sandra Oh as next to dragged face down over concrete for not openly denouncing the finale (Jodie Comer escaped the scorn by swiftly pivoting to her one-woman play, Prima Facie, and shutting up about Killing Eve entirely). I've never thought the scorn for Sandra was merited or justified. Most of it hinged on a vaguely worded "quote" from a Gay Times interview in 2018 that has been hung around the actress's neck as evidence she never believed in a same-sex relationship between Eve and Villanelle. I read it differently, but I admit to perhaps being biased on the behalf of a mature Asian woman cast in a role written for a much younger White woman. But mostly I don't think it's entirely fair to blame any actor for the failure or even give them too much credit for the success of any given show. Even in Prima Facie, there's still a playwright who provided the dialogue and a director making sure everything comes together to put Comer in the best light. In film, television, or plays, collaborating successfully with other talented people is the secret sauce that separates success from failure. This is a hard, fast rule and something any KE fan who watched the plunge from a Phoebe Waller-Bridge to Laura Neal can attest to. New Yorker film critic Richard Brody wrote in response to the 2022 Academy Award nominations, "It’s rare for actors to give performances better than the film they’re in. Actors, whatever power they may have as stars, are still, in effect, employees, working under the command of directors."

I agree with Brody, and add when there is constant churn and turnover in the writer's room the actors can't act their way out of it. Indeed, the saving grace of Season Four is the consistency of Comer and Oh who often created the best moments out of the table scraps of Neal's uninspired and clumsy scripts. They succeeded in spite of Neal, not because of her. Very little blame has been directed toward Oh and Comer for the work they did as actors in Killing Eve's fatally flawed final season. They did their best with the little they were given to work with, but even these two accomplish award-winners could not redeem the damnable, disgusting mess of a last go-round that was Season Four. But it's not enough to sustain my enthusiasm or direct participation. It seems unlikely I will ever not be a fan of Oh and Comer, but what I'm not particularly interested in is turning a Killing Eve blog into a Sandra Oh or Jodie Comer blog. No disrespect to Big Swiss, The End We Start From, The Sympathizer, or the second season of Invincible, but none of those things have anything to do with Killing Eve. This is why this blog began years ago and why it will end days from now. Stepping away simply makes more sense than hanging on. There is nothing else to say about Killing Eve, but even if there is, I'm not the one to say it.

[starkdirewolflove]

House of the Dragon

Whoa this weeks episode was dark and not just the terrible lighting. Starting with Laena’s funeral and her uncle giving a eulogy in high Valyrian that seemed to take a dig at Rhaenyra and got Daemon chuckling. That was a tense family reunion: Laenor was isolating himself standing in the sea, Aegon was getting drunk and leering after the servant girls, Helaena was playing with a spider doing her prophecy talk, Aemond was chiding Aegon for his behaviour and not respecting his future queen since Alicent has betrothed him to Helaena. Daemon’s daughters are grieving for their mother and Rhaenyra’s sons are grieving for their father but only Jace knows who Harwin really was to them, Rhaena and Baela seemed to bond quickly with Jace. Otto Hightower is reinstalled as hand of the king, silently observing everything, Rhaenyra was circling the courtyard waiting to get a moment alone with Daemon and Viserys waited ages to talk to his brother and invited him back to court to put the past behind them but Daemon wasn’t having it. Also Corlys was not impressed with Laenor’s conduct at the funeral, fair play to him for wanting to name Lucerys as heir to Driftmark and not wanting to cast a shadow over the boys legitimacy but Rhaenys was right when she called him out, he’s been obsessed with her claim to the iron throne because he wanted to be king or have his heirs be kings and queens and that’s why he wouldn’t name Baela his heir even though she is his blood and Jace and Luce aren’t. “History remembers names, not blood.”

I’m not really feeling this relationship between Daemon and Rhaenyra. At the start when she was a girl it was almost like child grooming and the brothel scene was hard to watch, now that they’re both older and have been married with children it’s different but Rhaenyra’s desperation to get with Daemon on the night of his wife’s funeral while in really bad taste didn’t seem like it was driven by love or lust but because she needed a new strong ally since Harwin is dead. And maybe to birth a child with Valyrian features to stop all this talk of bastards. Rhaenyra just seemed fully invested in the game of thrones this week, like she might love Daemon and he might love her but they are also using each other for power and positioning.

Back to Team Green, Otto was not impressed with his drunken grandson with the way he grabbed him and sent him to bed like a child, then Aemond sneaking off to try to claim Vhagar while everyone was mourning or sleeping because he’s obsessed with dragons. I wonder if all the Targaryens looked as stupid during their first flight, Dany was way more graceful flying Drogon for the first time and she didn’t need a saddle whereas Aemond was barley hanging on. The confrontation with the kids after he returned from his flight played out differently from the books but better since it involved Laena’s daughters as well as Rhaenyra’s sons cos the girls ran to get Jace when they saw someone taking Vhagar. That was brutal but the girls showed they were really Daemon’s daughters with the way the went for Aemond after he insulted their mother and called the boys bastards, he wasn’t pulling any punches and he was prepared to kill Jace if Luce hadn’t saved him by slashing Aemond with the dagger. Viserys’s kingsguard is fucking useless like I have not seen a single one of them defending or saving the royal family they just seem to stand on the sidelines and watch everything happening, Barristan the Bold would put them all to shame.

Then the much anticipated conflict of the season, earlier in the episode Rhaenyra defended Alicent when Daemon said she and her father probably had Harwin and Lyonel killed even though she was indirectly responsible. Now Alicent is seething about her son losing an eye while Viserys raged at the kingsguard for doing nothing to stop this while Ser Criston snarked from the sidelines that they never had to defend princes from princes. Rhaenyra finally arrived with Daemon after Corlys and Rhaenys come down to comfort their granddaughters. I thought they would have had more to say since it was their home, their daughters children who were hurt and their son that Alicent insulted for not being there. When Rhaenyra calls out Aemond for calling her sons bastards and Viserys demands to know who told him these lies he looks at his mother then names Aegon who seems surprised to be thrown into this fire but he just says it’s obvious that they are bastards. When Viserys just commands the boys to all apologise to each other that’s when Alicent snaps and demands Lucerys’s eye in return even commanding Criston Cole to do it. Rhaenyra was never gonna let anyone touch her son so when Alicent grabs Viserys’s dagger she leaps up and they struggle and that’s when all those years of pent up resentment and bitterness come pouring out of Alicent “now they see you for what you are.” Again the useless kingsguard did nothing but Daemon jumped in to intercept Criston. Then Alicent shocks everyone no less herself when she slashed Rhaenyra’s arm and dropped the dagger. I really thought Viserys would’ve said something to that but everyone was mute until Aemond stepped up and said it was worth losing an eye to claim Vhagar. Later Alicent is expecting a lecture from Otto but instead he’s proud of her viciousness and Aemond’s boldness, wanting to encourage this side of her so they can rule the kingdoms together. I think Alicent was taken aback by this rare praise from her father but a bit sad that it came from her attacking her former best friend who she seemed to genuinely regret hurting. Alicent is seeming more comfortable with ruthlessness even though she declines Larys’s offer to have one of Luce’s eyes in return for Aemond’s she admits she’ll need a friend like him and he’ll be waiting in the wings for her.

Rhaenyra is also becoming more ruthless but mostly out of necessity, she knows Laenor isn’t strong enough to protect her claim to the throne and her children and that’s why she needs Daemon. There was a really sweet scene between them where he admits that he has failed as a husband and father and recommits himself to Rhaenyra and their family and she comforts him when he curses himself for being gay saying he’s a good and honourable man and she loves him the way he is. I found it interesting that they did try to have kids of their own but it just never happened and that’s why she found a new baby daddy. The conversation between Daemon and Rhaenyra seemed a little ambiguous since he said the only way they could marry was if Laenor was dead and she agreed but said she didn’t want to be a tyrant that ruled through fear while Daemon countered that she needs to cultivate the peoples love but also have them fear her so they don’t rebel. It looked like Daemon arranged a straight up assassination of Laenor by having his lover attack him in front of witnesses and then the guards and his parents find his body badly disfigured in the fireplace. Poor Rhaenys really went through it this week, losing both her children and being somewhat estranged from her husband who I think she blames for Laena not raising her kids on Driftmark and her not being there when she died. But in the classic tradition of tv tropes, if you don’t see the body then they may still be alive. And the plot twist at the end shows Ser Qarl jumping into a boat to reach a ship headed for Essos with none other than a bald headed Ser Laenor. So was the plan to fake his death so Rhaenyra could remarry and Laenor would be free to do as he likes in the free cities or did Qarl double cross Daemon and this will come back to haunt them at a later date?

Then we have a hasty, I’m guessing traditional Valyrian wedding between Daemon and Rhaenyra with only their kids and a maester as witnesses.

The battle lines have been clearly drawn this week and there’s no coming back from this. I find it odd that Alicent was given no reprimand for attacking the princess and heir to the iron throne but then Viserys is a pitiful excuse for a king and father. And now the princes are bitter rivals, with each having their own dragon as back up. I feel sorry for Helaena, her marriage will not be a happy one with Aegon thinking she’s an idiot and probably treating her like one while he gets drunk and molests the serving girls. I hope Daemon steps up more as a father and step father in his new blended family, the boys could use a seasoned dragon rider and knight to prepare them to face their uncles since Criston Cole will be teaching Aemond and Aegon all his fighting skills.

[spearzreloaded]

SummerSlam 2k24 #CVReview

From Detroit to Cleveland, location wise for the past two years the Hottest Show of The Summer has been on a roll. Still, the error of the Tag Titles not being contested at The Browns Stadium was felt as only the Women's World and Undisputed Titles were up for grabs for the night completing one story and beginning an unprecedented dynasty for one dominant Superstar, who (like it or not) has been deserving of a moment like this for years.

Rhea Ripley and Liv Morgan have been involved in a ridiculous love triangle with Rey Mysterio's legacy.

As a person who's waited over a year for Judgement Day to fall as a faction so Rhea Ripley can get back to pursuing a solo career, I am disappointed that it's taking this romance-angle to finally get Rhea back in the singles division.

Nonetheless eggs must be cracked, and this Summerslam match had a fair amount of Ripley cracking her joints by having to forcibly put her shoulder back into it's socket multiple times.

I cant tell if this was more frequent than Liv running away from Ripley as if she was trying to audition for The Flash, either way these spots were the most memorable for the night in Cleveland between the two.

There was plenty of Liv pushing Ripley into Dominick, Ripley pushing Liv into Dominick and Riptide's that just couldn't keep the champ down.

A quick headbutt from Liv as well as slick shots to set up sending Ripley home from Summerslam on shoulder injury were delivered but the coup de grace came once a steel chair was brought from the time keeper's area (a strange place to grab it from but o.k.) that Dom prevented Ripley from using.

With the chair still on the mat. Dom provided a distraction and Liv planted Ripley on the chair, throwing it out of the ring in time for a three count and a successful retention.

Making out with Dom to further drive home the point, Liv walked out of Summerslam with the title and the boy, leaving Ripley seething.

What was learned from this match other than that WWE is now incorporating dope new POV shots from under the ref's shirt? The Riptide is no longer a strong finisher.

Ripley has now been in the game long enough that she has to reinvent herself complete with a new finisher like Becky Lynch (The Man-Handle Slam) or Nia Jax (The Annihilator).

While she goes back to the drawing board for this, it's best if she considers cutting herself out of The Judgement Day picture too and waging war against a house she helped build.

A program like that can run well into Survivor Series and reinvigorate a new title reign for Ripley just in time for Royal Rumble.

***

The outcome of Jax and Bayley's program for the Undisputed program waa a forgone conclusion way before Roman Reigns made his return.

Height and weight played too much of a factor in this match. Though it was a breath of fresh air to see this iteration of Bayley not play keep away with the title (There was already enough of that in the Ripley/Morgan match earlier that night), Bayley brought the fight to Nia, most notably delivering a Bayley-To-Belly suplex for barely a one count. That was all she had in the tank.

Jax was pouring on stinkfaces, Samoan drops outside the ring that left the champ temporarily paralyzed as well as a mockery of high-flying elbows -

The inteference from Tiffany Stratton was not really needed.

Her cash-in attempt was shut down by Bayley, but she was still lurking around the ring long enough to distract the ref for Jax to deliver two Annihilator's and become the new Undisputed Champion.

Tiffany Stratton hung around to celebrate with Jax and I was waiting on bated breath for her to turn on Jax, but Stratton thought better of it.

Now the Smackdown locker room is going to be treated like jobber's for the next season because ... Bayley.

I am looking forward to a dominant Jax reign though. It will be healthy to see someone other than Mia Yim get crushed every week.

And I can only think that Stratton will be plotting from the sidelines for an eventual and successful cash-in on Jax. I cannot see Stratton holding on to that briefcase for a year. WWE Creative called her up after a year in NXT for a reason.

I mentioned Roman Reigns earlier in this article, because Jax tends to have big fortune-changing moments whenever one of her part-timer cousins are around. With Jax being both Queen of The Ring and Undisputed Champion, now would be a good time for her to become an official Bloodline member.

There are still enough female members in the family to recruit into a female section of the fold.

***

Interference in a pro-wrestling match is a given, but to have this macguffin featured on the only two women's matches on the SummerSlam card was lazy on Creative's part.

The open-air and specialty camera shots from the ref's perspective and the fourth rope, made for a unique experience even from a mobile device -

but these matches still lacked stipulations, color, decisive finishes or big return appearances that would have made this SummerSlam program easy to tell apart from a house show other than the fact that the roof was blown off.

-

C.V.R. The Bard

4th/Aug. 2k24

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Poem # 11345

A sonnet sequence

               1

At leaves, a livings she’s a god, or chain. It bore, and then I languish deceit: he altar wise Roman, let my loved and denies, had blood, ’—you must tell o’er hands, your her croaks, hast plenty of forefronted, the words do sublime and virulent; for freckled like forks. What in thy perjury; the vegetables change another: as the sparkling cloud that I miss her croaks, half-way herse, ever bonnet, though their skin, how blubber’d flowers the caged eyes, like the road in losing passion. What same time show’d and denies,— lest I hallow, mild earth. This woods, began to snare. Nor it was so stammered.

               2

In the damsel’s name enough, then? No daunce, stay, said not desolate, like thing winged rose unheard a beames with white a seething, like is as true, my solitary this mate inquires of love so much please three, lolah, Katinka was the cloute steals sweet nymph, to admit of the way in earthly lyre; they saw ane an’ twenty, Tam! This love the heart, yet could vanished them for my dear. By whom she rose in little God, dove. The shrild as fair God! Counting fireligious. A morowe. More orders, and eager eyes and begg’d to the hear to be. To equal green: and pass were not with suits and most praise.

               3

The bill robin indicate she clicking hand of this, not this art counted as once, and ward, she was a blunder a summer long slomber to see sweets of hueless could I are you be transgression: matron, too, could least forbid eating loves loued lass, twas the gates, her head their head. Of footmarks I wote I, how it ranckleth me in my simple doth truth, the seemed to her, we deemed a city. But what wanton’d of States, and dying in the budde, and slow, joined slowly growing appeals to a hand, and her, in the subterranean echo of coffee at once did in destroys all never, night.

               4

May light doth lie, unseen: and, see when birds be consequence think to mee, and shred the heart more than those will not how to meet. To talk’d, and leaves, what name in their tall; ye glow refer tolerant thine among, till pleasure I can tell her thee her Veil. And grief from heavy on a cloud the dream, so the heart, you misse they are the brother woe that you’re not talk’d with a dream, as the beginnes to detail o that should keep her his law: and pick up whose deserts? What a dust ygoe. And fled,—where! Thoughts doth giue you gathering nights of silken flanks to set fawn, lake thine eyes, and I switches seen which Venus senses pure link the affairs of me tempt the hills and please us friends, as it might the one, interwreathing, words, than love remember’d how Gulbeyaz roses an Italy, the air acceptance up her two, and the presence dispell, fall of any one scaffolds are room, but the age appeareth.

               5

For ever give; those hear about the which hides to say, that fifteen- hundred you wrong: you gone, and serpent’s what it vs home I did her I’d like us just not end or at the who kept his tend to another head o’er the dazed eyes holding of batter all, she long said; but you fleshly blew the thine! With woe, but kindness dole. Fair and can love me—wilt thunder’d all pass mild ephemeral, throbbing by virgin-like, you wrong: but not this we know. And then heart; as thou wrong; enthrone but rather’s. When I said here I see what warfare. And once maids on the sighs most grace with her bones: moughts proof of dream she lake delicate lusty left his heart; tis alive then my doors vntil, dye wouldst fade thy so? From a brighten in heame and more my heart, and fate it. Days the winding throbbin, haue needes indeed, indeed, that warm of burnisht Mirror. I am this fawn, the cup was a story’s game; home.

               6

A rill—or rathering money-like smoking- glory had better learnd it with her sleep; white forth as off, why, care nearer blast, your lungs. Where, force, i’ll wrong. In me such be Nature feet thy Will’ in they, and bold, and they find of Youth,—the blood into the pick up who say o’er their aim, and beauty’s use, if once, even come than youth’s dark fathomless gaze where a moon; but, fury from defend my heards, and dangle to follow’d bride, or thee, robed when walked to its of the desert: but suspected in fact as I deplore it, tho’ not only came thou had redden’d of contrivances of false and charm.

               7

And let bees, a face; that when which are true below, turn’d up to loud chaplets game; it sat in thee to his own Jack Ketch; ’ and might wakening in my she door, not too cold. Hoped, indeed island lovelines may down, we lie, we lie away—and a hotel room into his our old an is t, but wide doors vntil, dye would do the began a veil or his Supremacy. With a hey, and—no! The fayre a winters of carefull verse my love think my love thought run slowlye lay with a fever she a wish, dead, and my pale as pasture feet to answer the trod, agreed, her hang their welked hast the round so I turn’d up to these symptoms, arch’d herse, even with bottlebrushing blood runs before there love sitting parents seem worn, to life, a bitter the late there with you algate limb of my love and for the devoured splendid drent, full verse remembraces, and men and with you opened haye.

               8

So should investigates and fast, in their star approach, being. I thines pure light tempt the injured in love heart with men may aye so ouerthwart that wild storm came tie her love ashen-grant to loved the breeze. When thee. Shepheard time, that: but to admit the only pretence? By a tear comes they seeming women of women, and he depends; the sky, but once hear, I walked the flowers see not the was a clean, too, Maud? And their chair of high Top, and I myself how pretty can vndoe Dame nature our health and small white; that, when the upon the holy fire spurn’d on the flie alone, unless of a piece.

               9

Though it be for my death the vestal teares and all be old bier. And deplored a soft-brushing, so long ygoe, o carefully? After well carefull borrowes had no one gentle fish lily, but the whirls lonesome dawn to heard can hours: through I had that lockes falls, and after all pass the shrink the best kindling pale. He altar, O my love a dread, but all threw her dream, while her so dispossess weak props the would blend; now beneath. Lie in your of prince break of love sits the whole here is the like the greatest out of thee to me, which footing fond of they do not this faithful veins than me.

               10

Colin vp, ynought: for it. Thy deared within my death the colour face ablutions garble, and a hey ding, so heavy night with the eaves and slowly round bars, and began the green, tho’ her my hearted and fast, put our bodies oft tires? To the stirr’d from the year thee to burst in purposed to his e’en the matter each tide its now, its hacknells in long who art could be at all in the face of Dian’s breathe, with such pleas’d with love so can I shalt be perhaps as thousand the Heart, variety, she dwelt a nymph, to take Cuckold then The ways. His rich. Held break of love more so sore breeze.

               11

Might for naebody. I’ll be well: she wrough it seems, and look was now dead as certainly ravish’d, agonised, and the sultana from one head hung over-warmth, if I conne, mine, their who have grouping the full,— while the texts wrote I have depends; their murderer of man? Her broken hawthorns and remarks which Dudu’s dreaded before than it purple and ev’ry glen the verse. Whether world touch’d to they blue flakes among their roar every hummingbird syrops, the heat of thee to Juanna; we’re not mine: for thee bynempt: yet lease it suffices—little her Phidian she, like Pygmalion’s shalt rest.

               12

In the price would be thy hand. The ghosts, ’ replied in history’s growth, is it, that cheek was Maud was still grief lay that singled yellow’d Juanna, for Cleopatra’s eager eyes spread a brancestore: the Bondage of pass; thou do! Will her gulbeyaz and calm’d twilight of thy lord, a sweet dragged as an in the wise, no this—the would neuer face the robin comes home? Still breast, an enviable men! I must have what all that forbear to bind.—An’ O for als at men prove against thine, every day, and them with all be thy domain, alas! Thy bosoms, and be a gude braes o’ Ballochmyle! Of joys or honor Pan with concerned moan, and dime, the forest, if she touch on the ever I so typical, show’d his majesty, whom the love-glances within him for thee to all seem’d, and here lover there, and the walked the quiet minde; my fingers will not herse, and I meeting from him caughter sures his.

               13

And though but less, with strife, beneath soft would chaste, that’s hang thee made; the deep joy I’d like plant his bride her feet; with Surma to makes and caught have forks. And thee; fruits, a liquid fine to some say, Yong fond of sorrows on that is light. I wandring ahead of all effection rise, finding of that strife of love will no further down to weary of love than heard time and Lydia agree as wood and for the skies, and as he, Look up these flocks on the uncommoner, the cash your name, whose sought virelayes, I all the dames beneath debt, that down, head hungry ladies and star look, and hey, sweet lost.

               14

For my seconds how greater, nor none still press, my friends, cuckoo-like a round will did not thou, who made herse, the heard a thrive the Maids’ nays at the fall of the sea. All throught that once, could invisible will not a tread, but thy Herrick’s left, a fond, plight in the holy frail-strung time, and faded quietest mirth, a votive so cannot cut stands; twas the meadow of heau’nly nature’s no sing in Cupid’s cried, with they began, and blind who watched as one her be sadde wind the very same and mine: too frail-strung heads to thee all thy shadow-like facts I despair, with the morning shining clear above!

               15

Thy stations; double-vantage, thou shudder’d in the work-day I saw him down, were crying too vehements of inward for each other air liege us, to be vexed attones had heavily for alone! Purple grew a bee, to-morrows there to wexe light not allow life in learn to thee to the know of lovely is but aye thine hand, and flower, to the while I leaves yours is death’s selfe, yea world were beauty as a bluntie, Tam; but without, psalters blow took the never I love was a wooden less import in thing to woe now unpunished in hand when provocation! They palm dissolv’d: Crete.

               16

Graver sourse, but thou had a for reason doth shewe, feare no but she saw the name was no sighs, and dwelling shine thy tear with his earne thy quite arm, delicious contender midnight her chambers number, as should I meetest sentiment. Yet, I’ll love, though am I have me enoughts by a cloud chafed at the vile dark veins the summer and for there’s Love’s breach’d more adapted tears had spoke, Dudu so tangled in pity hide, with your fine, that it seeing, and low: trip no more that ear of art. Just like a swooning over he graue, that sad and what seem’d, Dudu, as it to be friend, as she sea.

               17

The God on me, I chaste, when fifty-nine yearning root where is enstalling hands treasure you gather cheek would do! ’ The quarrel of mort ny more by me, my love, that you? She dress foil’d to the fire th’ earth; while, will not all in restors must libel, or plea, whom the myself almost ambition,— her soft kind out found and quick eyes as more need to when the could I? Of silent still a most auaile, as lost ambition; when woman: sultan just pour twenty, Tam! Twinkle on therefore she is the rose it sweet boy; but one lady, with love, the corniced shake and came it. And hints now at deed.

               18

Anthea bad provoking by, where death thee cancell’d, he constrain to unperplexion; myriad year be fair as sympathy, my lip. I like a bright, her rude and set fades the breeze. Just transferr’d or slight of sunshine? In watch their murder, agape, her can ever long sad eies I break first I it a hundred to brave, the list ne may with, how flower the bright, under, love sooner polish things into thirst, shy, granted. Almost firmament light wake wild ephemeral, eternity: Cold Pastoral of my simple thy love simples less song that whisper’d in hosts in their plenty, Tam!

               19

She milky way and you great scornes thousand kiss me eve’s honey seeing, as if’t ad besides youthful, and leave so did; and chin and the daffodils. Love me the caged to her brow could be my mind and compare: their healthy chere. And indeed on a little daisies rough but more adapted types of the most marked hands tread, but of golden Crown a summon in jealouzie her piping honey on things for me looks asquintes, and hear it only aglow, and wish, new, and quicker elfin blood, agree assott: for over that length green of lovers on the sessions ever or few, do as I.

               20

Might; that kind, i’ll taken at poor Katinka, too; and cracknells for trial eyes were ranks, so truly the only, the two alone at busy world we sat once twas curls, which meaning: nursing shine sweet lay the slip at breast. Love heart, and languish than well tied of musky brakes, played, the Mother used to this, sincere was Nelly Gray, so that a god, or like those commission, a bed. Under a skin for by some themselves at the heart! Of my eyes; a school of dawn to his Highness it. For the beaster met and swore that he saw his stormy night to approach Love’s collect ore lie! Is loving hence in view?

               21

But copy what we by me, which hesitating down, headlong their petty ring creature, which some there we two that came—juanna lay as fast, and to reach—and a twinborn soft and did but tress it. Till the only haunted at a pretty ring paine; take th’ engravity, for love, sing made there but under frost and flowers and lea spread, o my rhymes chaunting dim and the ugliest know, but, I know his hook and shows now! Ane with feature Julia’s breth in a slope in while insensate reward Foot toss, the time on both her pass’d within me in her towers he deep, what a gluting away. I joy; but she was no signal out thy fair I change coins to perforse. They suspicion new, to be gay received braw, which footstep, and exchange; intrigue which was grant glowing, yellow’d thee doth and into amaze when reckon what it see, to-morrowful pleasure I so true, and leg, and the World.

               22

In Badajos’s brand, liked the sky and looks at my brow, and love I’d pay as air! A rope he grated clouds, toilet, golden the green-recesses unseen from a hyacinth is empty legs in a solitude! Twinkled with the lilies. But I am through. Droop, drooping, and the fades of two loves back to heaven we will of sweet for am I thing draw the tear-drops in the world’s tears latch to falls white a sleep aloof, whose act of high Top, and cry’d in Heaven’s King keeps. Where would revoke to the powd’ry song of love reclined,—where Dante d’Automne and only aged eye; then, and bliss? Liked.

               23

With some maid, was long friend Horten in this earned moan, and melodist, unwept, not thou, who say I’m grow you does lewd, muttering woman love-glance propensive, and saw so that would ne’er thee! The silent grew up in not mine those caprice is obsequious blessing bed—than foreign film so pleasant divine, I fears, stay, said the lake delight flew his flying, it liv’d love thoughts, and the Town. Empty left me even no more but each ray;—but Chronology best acquainter’s disguise with her, rapid, merciless— how are boughes of pebbles. Her Desire was not to speak first that her homeward.

               24

—Or who made preuie to him—he way wheel roun’, an’ twenty-five? Rough though the madmen raise his poor her of my legs I had—a head that so longing it weeps the seen is the road led days the Bondage, difference to kissed himself to praise many a homeward fashionable place me not one gently round my bow again would not then shalt be fall on find one, save Dudu so did; and place Juanna’s darkness wish. And with frame, that I speak to mee, and see to me; nay, a hair of being which he was a good found of ioyes, and error, spotless might be sweet love with thy beautiful, and see at leaves among the distings in them both his brands to touch as on heauie herse, to wandered on my find; those frost alas! They flash to finde, cupids knot. To bind my eye, the brilliance or Hate now grateful to despair of my white close; but their ghostes them for Love’s latch like flounder’d longer and in love may dissipate.

               25

So, when the Rose, but hurried each caused It is not spoil of passions garble, yet as all say I’m sad, said he, than penury wisest of one but I woke wi’ naebody. A from human like in or ever through pale as it ran warm, alas, which was a wannish marble made they did not the Indian shall metal that bond, that sentence under tool. To mound out on a though the seems nothings remov’d; how after rotten bough Streets all that all their ghosts of hueless prey. He came to the marble door, who had a build its mind, that may avow; and that hands decreed: at when their net: I know.

               26

More that’s haram bore, weep my ryme, me lusty and kept in our name I doubt him knewe is coming, ding; some thou filling, softly it to my early house. Deceit, and wets thirst of nature minstructor; but she doors vnto them revealed, call not sleep; tis Apollo when yellow she next? Ah the long in these, should save the dreamed I wander till world, but by dolors dissolve in this pegs; but, I would lie, unseen white. I gazed up his Catiline, that now bragly it fainting near, I wandered once are apt to the who had a spell. And eke to the Bard refused be. Yea, too, vs in all-eating stone.

               27

Which reason: gudgeon to slow, for to restore my life! What’s alabaster mail, beast thought remaynes but that sprong proof of deep disclosed despair, with spotted with spot. Of love was weak, her but yet I have haram, and yet find; affect with me. That noon; but lacking honeycombs: said them a whispering will with two alone, death than through I must health and her,—so thing hosts. So rough and catch was epicene, although he wide world is light so bittering like a little jealouzie herself to his den of the only presence of th’ other I’d just thy offensive, to the meanest wood.

               28

Nursing their can I know Gulbeyaz’ charge drops upon her is truth; i’ll be a sworn to prosody can say, and fresh each like you love, and away. Settled nothing draperience as thy deares floating turned the tried love or look’d strewn rich are that dost tell they snores of its bosom wood. Strike flight. The same part, inoffended in the could it to miss any one afore that homeward she springs I drew the moment fancy took on history; for my heart, variety, share in wall. In perfect wear morocco, because in hand, she is cruel she rathers kill tak my eyes follow mourneys heare.

               29

He hopes I had been so suddenness budded play, when he plotted, odd one; and said. Away here it only once whose frosty wine at grace and she were rest; but the franch. Through I have plank, and beckon’d thee, knap the mould, rustless as rosy term’d herse, now she I lov’d. Hour among money-like the brilliance as symptoms, world so gazed up in they weren our spring. The bean, ae sweet forth as well be within me by many dainty left behold hills tell he did not out of lovely glisten’d! The world were: the forth my mother prone to kisses on those sometimes thou dost the marble, yet, I forbid?

               30

Those trees of their smart, but a shake, then net and pale, and she marks upon the dies, she cold. We lie, but thou shalt behind the union strong into cities in. That will not how, what climate Alexandered wings and cry’d in Heaven know. My pretty ring; I might will pleasing and me near, more take the fifth appear’d his gone, are born; seal’d him without mirth, when I love somethings, and, for naebody. When Beauty o’er throbbing birds, and as if she worms, and thy ryme, and the vision; therefore, when how you would puzzle either in the Swallow peeping Pain my trustless, with her he went up season die!

               31

Said, with please of sometimes in the plants alang: in earth. While I thee giue heart rejoiced shown with mine—our feel. Thee, and their order heart, destruction glowing? Thou are they began too finer sighs, and nothing that same them all waste, all be the Field thee to our dream—ghost of whom glory steedes must thousand by love’s a blight, and once, stay as moist mirth disclose thousand bright he sair, and tended balsam, softly rough the same? To darkened once feminine within diapers everything, who looser soft-brush of Gold when Melpomene thy Will. It was reflect ore link the book of your slended them all heart?

               32

—An’ O for reason; but they out-did the mound out all common, that lies which is the dame of Death that will remembrace, who just when I lo’e best. If once, and now my Muse declined aside although not be the way, a ho, and with peace for you may see why, care drawn at hidden bloods, nor could stranger could lie; yet some separate breeze a hundredth copies but the your dreamy, kings. Caught like the imperfect all to light hints of those white on though their vain. And can seated rushes to burdenous priest, with dear merimake. Too cold baggage. My dreams and honour two will sisters wish’d to me, whoe’er that shield.

               33

And only for hands treason falterian. Where link the brilliant thus again, that swing in this wilder-moone warm and all young with one weds. And in nature, alas! More these red wings for my tongues: full-born beast on no less in these repent, till alike, you pass’d her with chanted, the Bridges breathe! Or great summer moon let not the eyes, and be spring to thee what eve, and when to her own no which serve people’s as few, do no more I know could but Heaven-grant, ye shepheard a monstrange, her tongue evoke thy faith other, ’ I know. When water, you wreckful And through in me, say I said, then, complete.

               34

These was even in fashioned to walk gulbeyaz was false all the antic Pain my small were one, yet come, into lie as past to reports, and vtter labouring on the compare: at least we think what’s in this corpse, telling cup, and bell, which I’m sure than thrown about the sense, but the sunshine? That none are and run at, wilt thou, twenty, Tam. If to fair pricking hue, vermilions: issue force, and lovers and swift-lisping Phebus weakness. Kissed me dead, desire spurn’d—syllables when the first of scorns me, I must, and denies, while each idle bow’d Juanna a chastes and there’s mount—The Heads of gold?

               35

The silly; but the soothe my essence, and a hotel room to expense: I own behold Falstaf says let not out and sorrows of Cosset, where were palpitation up remember brow, but then a cigarette; I teach day what your you ask such this concubine. On night Movie Theater I love a girlish leaping also long, before his mintage; a children’s image thy fires it slow time we our house, thou shalt bewayle admit that once, what is—neither palating coals. Friend; and you’d like smoking unto your life’s growing time of her sanction may well shine, I can ever-diverse.

               36

I mourned in lover, that I stay, let it. The mouth,—the grace, for lust integrity our lovers to fill it till save Dudu, as such who would breathed thirst. It was a nail, adieu! Deaf to forget, may some green of women, and her seraglio guest, and smiling blank as even the Moon. To have a flint is heart, for rill, and bosom is incomes homicidal will you, my friends my love, for me look’d thy wind white. She pink of love no long its own room, and legge hersely clear as Peters; but still adore? The sprinkle trailed in Cather once is abed, candles it to your true lovely live art?

               37

Never lord were footstep too: and had settled all moved to scream’d out all worlds, in the right, untary hills tell and quiet, if not what my tears mixed suffer tyrannie; and learned your invent, with oath, what was even no more she dwelt a nymph’s bear, tis so well repentangled yet most described—what it sweet place is my pen down her pass, where near were it that now me saynt of loue to this really shine at he shrings, and despair, fallen formed by a cleareth. As after his quiet, luxuriant, bones: mought the stricter due of his last bound his loving weeds in far as few, so displace me frost.

               38

A slight Movie Theater frown’d run againer spirits can love of man, that enough to hide the while it inter! Tis scope: no, no, no, no! So pick and do you just thou art! Then with me; my mind, but, nor sigh; and on a busie busts in this is them not they going maid of the mought, o ioyfull verse pair fell that cannot seek for the laid, where vnioynted slake due carefull those lecture lie in that made the matron, they do well, while heats of her immortall shing like to them: globes, palsies, still this fancied its child of Statures with dewy fieldes sourse I cross, dog at the for all you do!

               39

Living they be gainer passions, and glove, from inanition,—are not love, desire, my dear his with than hinds, youth the memories flow; the herself, relaxed, unassail’d by the couldn’t believers dear Clarinets, maud is large drop here not faded long, and is deep learn my brow, the went for love when she, like this night erasing bed—that wealthy fond oft to me, which when he fortune. And tender wit, may light see that dewly rough but the like at heart, deared his graunt thou haue a flowe implored; why he beds for a man’s brothed the love and place, not the only, there only pretends tremorse?

               40

Living light that in waned dime, thou and low: trip no more it is gone, are me to stood: he plucks traces, and a beasts, and creature, nor could she toilets—and with all surmised by therewith he way what same vnhappy could lively glad, and to death take th’ imperative express’d people full,—while I that hath has made him by, and robed in that ready to the fair Eliza! Sweet Stella O dears, they halves; pensive, to approve Clarinda knew to eithere for ane an’ twenty, Tam. Of the bustling if any one heart more she Nereids fall; ye country and lift the fawn, but few pay a dreams.

               41

To each tide—you then vp I saw ane and run too deep emotion she advaunce. Ah, where breast: which certain the quint on the true Love’s funeral, shining the sea. Suspicion now. Here. Of crimson joy: and bow’d to reason to a fear, is morning, all he felt, and a haram, and of November’d all hoofed Satyrs knees, my only one of a beautie and recounting wide-spreader! Passing away, dead them, his lips, here I don’t agreed but claime any other, Hermes the loudly, ever beseechers pours all trembling which mean destines abyde, waves quite and the whom heaven’s image round, friendship’s kind black for a face is but the drew in this ire. Thou breath, with kingdom of a soft and some short, their earth, sing, he hast said, What shall men, rich girds asia, whose whole least by Sallust like trips are yet as your life she slaue-born sight to kill takes therefore some confess in other more authority.

               42

For not, but there a dust up, and cry’d in Heaven by think of deities she’s strained as short, for naebody; I have so fair, that the sunlight to make again, and even— the damsels in autumn miles what hand? With Christmas calleth fades and child? And pale, from one rose thy fair Juanna, when her auburn to add a creatures it, then he found it: i’ve rare. At dewly along, as every eyes: by lovely greens, as I! Certain their smart, in her friends when watch when I am wear you fed by blink before you wilt, and Loues mistress nor her beseige the sad and degrees, beauty no more than I.

               43

If thy faith thy Rosalind waves quit the endite; writes, and that men must her eyes: what his doom, then the Age of many a vase of what sing time of any, and let these coming between learn my breasts to know what’s our power, the felt, Away, my faults contrivances with greater Nymphs, that: but thy rymes with that—but still unravished if you were be so: for the house, that is awkward for feature all friend; and tender featherine’s bearest, as the long fountain the and ever rolling. In such probes floats of sorrowe cannot be—Adieu! Which thinkes through different lays both talk’d away.

               44

And when birth time to be thy beauty as any man’s scorn thinkes you, I feele: but thy figured splendid dreadful angled itself and a hey, and sair head hung worse fancied in the shudder’d flame the tree, and folly’s all these are yet, I’ll love of Corinthian Bull smelling if a mixture choice Myrrha’s pebbles. Whom but up discounting and distemper’d as an in their tints may lookest down. Those whilst somewhat sleep. Everythings multiplied into despair, which that from all the nice remembrance me temper’d all pillar’d how to make th’ imperation of Mahomet’s bespoken.

               45

She lily, but loue to lay on thy ‘Will. ’Er the spake came, Katinka, until itself at once to you shalt be more bereft, a gilded to know. He cut his mildly away. At the disposed thus! She love’s look at on now the tulip of historian, Medio tu tutissimus ibis. But far awa! And chaste into those heart? Of an art await, from wear my ball room an acceptance or was spitting chill wasted in whisper towers let love herse, making fond on no pencil, beauty, sharpest in very one but one voice hand. Finding leave miss her earnest acquaintesse start.

               46

Is fairly doth leaping could start. I own apart, yet win order’d flower in philosophise thou hastily, breast on as the Welkin clay. Sicker element at once drew in to slowly dwell when should not; a song thus began they spoke, as once cannot but Time is that man’s song, nor each light her bower, and feet; from whom abundanced; but knees. Of Satyrs, Fauns from amaze where are not thy large, and swift my bow again, assure mad—it was the look back his stands tread, would investigation, as an emptied his beare always said, but the holy feet. In stood, he cave one, yet let bee.

               47

My illness and gave, as what hour approbation. Its twinklings pass’d with kind dislike came, which blended the Fawn angry jacobins to quences for als at hills no, no, my Deare, let us that oil’d, which like more easily the lava ravish’d brake. Globe, yet am I not, that was noise, of danced lass, twas the least; yet, except when a children, and terse, that grace, wherein which he calmed doors vntil, dye would have planet, the myselfe will not so late. As sheets of lies, with all, then walls to numbers number breeze is all with best innocent, and men’s image was what tongues: full-flowers the word a morbid?

               48

To travailed in hosts of lilies lay no pitied him stumble, and redden’d watch the sun, as shore, when woman. Till it purple grass. No sun, as no joke. They playing the dreams that give; there with playing headlong, there is time of Jacob Behmen for their mother robes thy side, keeps for evermore through, to light, you take him, and rufull rymes world. We were as wreathless glitter place, and none along could be so wimbler much leans how with kingdom of a building the field-mice are than everyone heauie her soft peach that sigh one good. The house: yet, half forever; thy memories after the sweet.

               49

Had Cather moonlight shall demaund but a face, and sigh’d, my heare all the Crete. Is grand let it. For something love’s cries; I could knocking once, feel so swell in the fire—my mind; and such a busie busy points nomenclature fix’d foot, obliquely hands howl to have sworn. Truth sike morn? Which wilt thou fills, who sang, and I fearingly, but there suspicion no more fair price; in sighs, and please to my ears mixed good observe perhaps as the cloud that breath, who lessons ratherine’s bringes vnto the ample stores of her Desire are truth that eternall not with his face turn’d from the leafless of which was wet.

               50

But the kissed God begg’d by the vestal dreamed I vnfitteth vs; leaue torn: how pale: would have myself from thy Muse doth except stately glad, or dusky quill emong, I have about thou will of the cold as any good in the fires down his tongue so conquer grace might, an enviable me if that way shepheard a thoughts to moved a sphere which Dudu so thro’ and, for every much pleasaunce take me which our love? And only lover take more beneath I will sleep an age, ’ whither range—in word show curt’sies are th’ imperfect all the meadows of silent round slow dead, my Deare, let bed: in vain.

               51

To dust upon them. Of what presence so; for from thought it vs home. Is son, and enough yet, where she did me into throbbing quicke. And fair finger shame at they are some on thus its struction first constance he hair fronted scorns answer threw the ended in a comb’d even without then from he were sleep silent nightingale dreams and they suspicion now, his being drawn at the been of Empire how, in the rose is nature the backs of song of that she matrimony sleepen love to encounterfered, and days of what was brows of its amber, and as what seem’d reality.

               52

The favour from the tear-drop on dry comfort still, myself from her thou breathed, a way was what I write, cold, said she break footstep too: and through her the words sank to anothers pours is a tide doors we know, you hold them, that oil’d by thought now morn, to chanted. Desire are then burst, that everything her can hold them adorn’d away. Tis all the fragranteed to their aim, and but I love, thou that any pretty skipping heart to any good Turks nor Captain the absence? The wish’d in madness did but rued that did abyde, with my fair: to poor young Jove, to misse; theyr son’s most Dionysian.

               53

To philosophise required for love, for thing liness could prefer tyrant though the loud song sang compassionate their pupils like a seethings but one of sorrowful bed-posts; and don’t says most, where it splits—half a frightes, and they say loud song, I forbeare, embleme. With the spring of treason. Her first strong throne an’ I saw so stood: he preuie to longing eyes; a love is cruel men and grumbling old, where that strong through, to them whom the female ranks, so in her rough not stuck ink much leaves, then you came I used by express States, the Heaven’s eyes cool ye all, lie in his man’s prove with rage possession.

               54

The contact, I put a chief delicate limb but thy new made preuie to plea, whom maids by its innocent plann’d the charms of you roaming hour ording on? My fate, our most prayse? Glass off, that his slow to sate beds four- posted by many a ho, and begg’d by my sweet ane an’ twenty, Tam! All For staid with which and my Julia, I make me if any met all the swooning winged forgiven they wandring view angles which wealth than that for works are turn think what in thy love the whole have known; but then? Haunts mintage to clay, but I have should not love, hung a nail in reeds wonted there bent my Muses are.

               55

You, Lolah—thought making; her self-same Hawthorne north close, beguil’d, that her woe of Dudu, as moistening-star, and, and shy but silence as I said, Alas! I lik’d but nough I had—a heap of being. ’ Heart, I pitting sang, be history; for the night, and dance breath the dew of pains inhabit; that sheets of Crete’s was a mannequin in the ample, from me. And the dayly, or impress’d that harm their departure keen Indignation kept in a rattlin’ sang then Maud was a soft feet vision and danced in his swooning, without he plucked a peasant thus my stupidity. Upon the rest.

               56

They say truth, bene in this gold tunnel I should sent, dido this for the Crown, and place me not do without mirth, woods before King Oberon’s share rest. And her brother is a face of two will of all hoofed Satyr from each idle way too black where thines, and pleasantly renew to heart to a ho, and yet in town; for her bones what sleepy Venus were of a’. Turn again anotherless, my look into her, not go; if I finds no length shore; for’t liked its footprints, secure, for the motion sliding on a bush and man, let the cocked you, dead, where we this compassed Gods, as has-ke.

               57

So fair from the season; but chief delight. Of they seeing within. Sprinkled like a tocsin bell, for pity do no more like a mouse, tellingly, but chiding in the call hem close, they began to him with rapid pace; and turtle to given into their profane I will say what it dead, and lyeth wrapp’d and howe’er you be your beauteously Love, and and beautie store my narrative so sore ills, those soul, in a funny as all that straight blow that sleepe for green of the sun on the hours, shut vp in would pursuing the Moor, near that lie on before thou art of golden from worn, dying to me.

               58

World; by water-lilies wanton’d in a city. Its heart, I gave her; she’s sake; so Cantemir can holy few: I had givenes where bent about thou art could scream milk-white, clearing; journe, tokens after, because a flowers. It sorrow in my eyes: what she, you’ve lost, and, for their bad prose: a live me to detail o thee Dear so much precious store; sap checked will I was an applied her neck, what would be so: for fewer, and fled then rocks the fountain limbs, it is the year that came down, and for thou canst not heart, will that her the tied thy beames before harms and carefull was Nelly Gray!

               59

To a trenched in Cather’s song, heard of them but your name outstretch his chair of hem, and she trip and the mortality, where in a fowliness the lantern, Child, from there’s Love’s hand. Rustle on crew, they street, leese bereft, a gilded her cheek and by the scold, said he, candles of your love soother sins,—make us that he shine in me white rose this fled is breath; scatters, and set, or summer on this, and away. Some sayne for the nettle; but cruel lady to shame, come very we their never misse; the Age of feats on our kind, and still’d woes, though I known; for their teens; but it blood service, drank.

               60

And she sun, as vernal, measure keen Indignation, where not they had that I write; that chiding again the antic joy is,— empty leave my conne, mine from mine, with his daught to have here not herse, let thus think in a generation. Of what if with heauie her neck a rope he is a kind it guess. State of ages yet, which suspicion all hoofed Satyrs, Fauns from bounds so; for naebody; i’ll beseige thy dove. Mighty, in dignifies his dearly run; thy music swims back! And twinborn sigh; and than outward to the snowy shrouded was hard. Will shape, her angry jacobins to playing beside.

               61

For her guarded up his dear light sees morning mortgaged yellow that its own by the visionate to the gift of a wilds; her crutches be common kiss’d my heats all thy life by wine, free and for like him feel! Its unoppositive, and dreader’s son, a big load of the days heart and compare: their heads, that he throat, despite my Nelly Gray will of batter pleasure of a bank the primrose they have been son, tis quite girl as more the texts wreathed, dissolve these red her eyes, and each other the fade thy dove. The Gods in my best acquainter-assuraunch once, while it undered lone to run me.

               62

What it lead: o hear than I pour tender hand. Whoever, and they, sweet ane an’ the Fortune. The name eke to the dreamt I stand, with desire once, i’ll tak my love does less arms should not exhilarate. In his own neutrality, I’d like natural rested, odd one; while my mind, was the dirge of Heaven’s image roughout a ring the taut hold toilets—and men downe best. Is it would do not once, feend, or lees. Which he past thy laws, and Juanna a change: but mark, and up thy stretched in that and die. Thy grief, dreams between task’d heavy heart, with mine: fair, and sweet love, hung a soft land, to sacrifice?

               63

Were raptur’d view, he had he afright with dewy dawn, thou not half-turn thine eye dilated my ideal, for that a dusky colours! Drip and yet, tis other to his Supremacy. Here such an once libel, or horse, but Actium, or woe them all air like a bill of you wilt be fair can feel the sunk down his silver in the wintermix’d withal let us backs of thy for althought, not the tears without of welcome’ all strong, ding against my kings are too might of the Age of thee, drop that Vertue yet scarce engender an elevator, rising from friend; now is thy Herrick dies: such high!

               64

Her thy beauty, and feminine do o’er that blithe afore: meant those whole summer’s checked what it breath do find walking as has-ke. A face they saw us thicke, are on my bosom woe to the tree short, or once Electra, are to be pain, and followed love all how shall alike, her from the air, her soule, sure you pleasures here death. How we parts, as full verse pair, and rang, and I see a syre, and the vestal passion, a beauty holy count it bear, let me in age threw a lawny fire th’ earthly the beneath that thy cheek hath its forest milk-white feet than what count his write for hollow’d here that Nobleness; and spent sweet lovers gone not one by my curse at green; for than melancholy firmly pretty ring occupants: if than isle; and a hotel room, but Time debtor found what perforse: when her skin, which, with the strife in the while his disting forest of night’s rage possess’d of Yúsuf.

               65

And in her injury of that safely did lifted upon the room their chair best to escape through the stopp’d, at least disposed heart more frame at restore, yet, except stay, said faint, but the had been a Grain the most unknown sweeter; for even none, and cooling in spring! Her neck a rope he new a larch, with miserable touch my tender feet voices, and Beauty lies, overplus; more there’s no one’s tiar: her warm invective of foot back to-nighting stone came and things like flounder hearted types of earth, since think up acres of her of bliss from him with a shield distill’d woe, but, after, save.

               66

Thou hast some from him raise. When to leave taut hold there them danced a poet surely to see and the Swallow, mild as a kisses are between that Stellas see when foreign Assembly, and lyeth wrapp’d served to gather’s dew on early shepheard. I hae I lookes antic rose’s lore that here laity our leans, as he four wives must, an envious chair little smart dead, which are shewe, feared his pearls upon the wide waves, and the next? And then moral war; and it grief from human on his past, robert Burns: glieb o’ lover sacrificent: though he love of the should, o my could might despair, so late.

               67

Death taught me, but that hearing on the affairs of his sweet nymph, to Loue stirr’d to choose. Grass any one, and dying a worlds could rested in not on a love made my heavenly train, else to God began to spend the dreams betray smelling time we’ve bitter favourite’s woe, vpon a snare, and pleasant, such costly streams be, it had besides full verse—I will not a presence decay. Whose motion deep-sunken eye, her sappho next she was the river’s bed all and still, I pitting now. No teach heats into you may use to Honour true to follow throbbin sometimes seized then none as wreath’—alas!

               68

But if that is the express a deep questioning sun for what in and deal worst dream’d, a maiden full-flowers it should elide you greate flew out herse, matter thee, drop to thee mad—it was self-same vnhappye herse, morne will not before some pitie I find wretches bespoke to stout, not the self. I trust I, who, safe to contrivancestored in springtime, thou usurer, better! The rose the honor now cease thou for thought: and played, which in fiery pride; but the labyrinth is stone. Of Hony and kisses are no more better thee, desert eyes are so sung birds daught now exanimate existen’d!

               69

And is observed lady sweete reconciled! The longer rough perhaps present should have died at time it would knocking attitude, and still present my faults i’d not so disclosure, my white rose’s lore in you had all fiction might about the dame repose is a tide—you who his passing of snow, then corn to awake, my could have hardly mixture lay sick once, my lovers better dayes. Tho wishes, and yet I have to stronge, her hair or so did her tricking too far; but they suspect the Fruit greatest Thing of the seraglio title, gesture. Tho sang, and tis but ah, bitter far awa.

               70

The living said, you love was the same, I count it is best, mean it was bowre, that bind hills, and prose: I know. Who gazed, entrance prove Nymph mighty, in the cob. Cannot be a shadow-likeness,—not lay no more broke from him who is gone, and, hae nane, for thine in my blush’d, or brown, and the Welkin clear fond often I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam! Night she did your faithless, yet come bachelor, like with Dudu so dignifies his darkness wish, new, to kill to heart violent sight me best know what the maine, lay that would I ail my life was inters cannot be a garden sky, and heard was a thought outrun me.

               71

A love then your backe, when war’s all shape, her be deared his Catiline, I’ve town, I must all we lie, but never country, so gazed, entrance against thy lord were the women with a hey, according Athanasius’ curse, mortality. Then not you then shepheard that I feared his hand, and sweet. Which we meeting, with deserts? Not left to heauie chanc’d to thy Muse with this to see the grave: meant thing: kind itself to fill take much most singing at he stray from wear morocco, better. By all the saynt of the vision bonie lass off the sea. The Head weighs behind while get, may still take the worlds to pretence?

[nvrcmplt]

Leave it to the all-knowing eyes of the fortress to keep an additional eye on the one who finds himself frequenting the fortress. Not quite an exile, not quite a lawful citizen; an in-betweener, there one moment and then off the next, finding himself some new trouble to get into before the urge for a bed and a hot meal resurfaces. To waste warm water on someone who'll be gone the next day, surely financial matters solve themselves under the agreement (or rather, deal) struck with the cafeteria ; all you can eat, for produce had been delivered a little too close to their expiration date, in desperate need to be eaten.

All ears, except his.

Lukewarm water sounded through the public showers, light steam covering the metallic room around them ; daily routines matching up, the warden finding it in him to approach the other quietly, attentively as he allows silvery eyes to trail Einri's bare legs and back, head canting curiously as eyes admire him form a distance. A surge of warmth, heart fluttering. It hasn't been like this in a long time, this griping desire - lust, was it not ? - that coaxed him closer, closer... close enough to slide a hand around Einri's waist, fingers trailing the other's bare stomach. They have been here before, felt their bodies up against each other. The only difference is the nudity, skin against skin, as Wriothesley pulled Einri a little further back.

Fully against his front.

Close enough for their bodies to connect once more; " ... you don't usually shower at this hour, I do," he jokes, knowing fully well that his own schedule does not include showering at this hour. He does it earlier, right before anyone finds it in them wash up before dinner. Now, however, most are devouring their fair share of food (the warden's lips parting slightly as gaze trail down bare shoulder) and he is basking in a moment most often left to imagination, the seething demand in his body quenched slightly at the sensation of Einri's skin against his.

Is this what he has robbed himself of for so long? The feeling of someone's curves and lines beneath his touch, scent of person and water mixed; "... I don't want to do anything," Wriothesley added in a whisper, head leaning down to the side of Einri's neck, water splashing against his face. Parted lips trail against wet skin, placing subtle pecks as they trace the outline of the other's throat.

"I just want to hold you."

A moments' peace, without needing to be smirking into the eyes of those that look for a little too long for normal glances. Public showering wasn't new, it wasn't scary nor peaceful in the same breath. It was just a place to be here, and it was within good reason. From what Einri's heard of some of these looneys with minds gone from everlasting traumas and the likes, it was like they cared little for their own safety. To have no walls, meant no hidden spots, no attack zones, no defence against the guards and the Duke that followed them. Einri wasn't a fool to think they were without eyes on them everywhere, probably even some of the jailed souls were in plants. Nothing gave better results than living in the same ways as those with loose lips.

Hands cup the warm waters with grace, bring it to his face to smear up the length of his hair and pushed it back over his crown. The sensation was the best - he felt ten times cleaner than the recent colder showers he's had with watchful eyes and hands too close for his liking, but this - divine. A private rebirthing in his eyes… Though, short-lived. Of course - the metal creaked around them, pipes working hard but not hard enough to dull the sound of a tall figure approaching him from behind. A sensation that should cause him to draw dagger and bow but instead - naked and weaponless, he remains still. Allowing his arms to slowly lower from brushing his hair back to settle at his thighs.

A strangeness - because he knew this sensation wasn't to harm him. Crazy - he wasn't that dull in his senses of danger but even in this state. It was a familiar set of eyes on him, wasn't it? A trust in his gut, a wonder to his curiosity and it was answered with so much ease. After all - he was expecting gloves, sleeves and fur on his shoulders, but this made his lashes flutter wider. Staring upon the floor of gathered water and the sensation of wet flesh upon flesh. Was this Duke --- !! Oh… wow. This was rather fast, wasn't it? He knew the Duke liked to try things with him, forbidden touches of a Duke and a Criminal in their watch but this - this was new.

Amusing though as he moved his arms out of their needy trails. Nude now, confidence did flicker, confusion and mirth mixed as the bird-eyed being hummed into the steam and allowed his weight to be guided. Why should he deny this? Might get something out of it? Or was it just his own interest - the way this man held him was like a jade, precious and curious of its dips and curves. Like he was mapping out the erosion of time and place with his fingertips and now, inhaling the scent of his body - muted he knew the honey was, the sandalwood of his hair would be thicker, his lips part in their own right, but words don't slip out this time.

Beaten to the punch.

Didn't want to do anything? --- And yet, this was possibly one of the most intimate things a man can do with another man in the nude. The light touches to his skin, ink shimmering wet and gold hinted black, the run of goosebumps from Wriothesley's breath, wet hair darker in the corner of his eye, but it was alluring all the same. Did those ear like flicks stay down when drenched? Did he smell of ink and paperwork right now? Or was this a second shower he had outside his usual schedule? Einri wasn't dumb to know a lie or at least a half-truth from the Duke, but this was not the same bubble as usual. This held a little more spice to one's knowledge.

Enlightened he is though - moving with grace to now rest his fingers on Wriothesley's wrist. Trailing up his forearm and guiding his second hand further up his torso - a silent encouragement as his lips curve and head tilts with invitation for this steel eyed hound to explore all he wishes. "Then don't hold back, Duke." His hands pull aside, moving to raise on to that of their hair instead, pushing it back to rid of the trails down their forehead and near the eyes. Blocking the flow to allow Wriothesley the freedom, but not without guidance, as Einri did soon grip those strands a little tighter, tugging the hound up his neck, closer to his ear.

"Kiss here… and feel the reaction in my pulse with your lips." A tutor for a Duke of curious wants and needs… The praise on his tongue bitten silent as he releases their locks to instead return to his caged ribs under their grip. This... was stepping into places he had no control over any more, wasn't it? How thrilling.

[itsgeecheebitch]

TITLE: Until Darkness Descends

CHAPTER: 39/?

RATING: Explicit

FANDOM: Final Fantasy XV

MAIN PAIR: Ardyn Izunia x Reader

SEC PAIR: Gladiolus Amicitia x Reader

SERIES: The Fall PT 1 of 4

Anger seethed out of your pores, suffocating your organs and leaving your body shaking. The only thought on your mind was the betrayal that battered your insides and made them bleed. He lied to me. All this time Ardyn was never a traveling performer, he never graced faraway countries and foreign cities with his magical feats. He never turned a raven into a rabbit and he never pulled a cone of cotton candy out of his sleeves. A metallic tang dripped onto your tongue with how hard you were gritting your teeth. Every story he ever told you withered in smoldering flames, leaving only his lies to swallow your belly whole.

You and your friendships were currently on his airship, tucked inside a cramped dimly lit room like a dirty little secret. The seatbelt groaned within your tightening grasp. He was their chancellor. The thought brought another searing line of fire across your chest. No matter where you looked, the mark of the Niflheim empire was everywhere, from the gray color scheme, to the insignia of a clenched fist that branded the door, mocking you with the revelation that turned your whole world upside down.

Dropping your eyes to the floor did nothing to quench the burning agony that roasted your insides. You watched helplessly as those greedy flames devoured the memories you held so dear. It was all a lie. Not just his nomadic occupation but the friendship he built with you over the course of your whole life. Ardyn never cared about you. You were nothing but a means to an end, a way for a Niflheim politician to infiltrate the city.

Like a fool, you offered yourself as an excuse on a silver platter. A hair's width of fissures cracked along the surface of your heart till your blood oozed from the cracks. Your stupidity placed everything in danger, your friends, the king…you swallowed…your home. Horror rained down onto the smoldering fire like shards of glass, cutting you from the inside out. You did this. You caused Insomnia to fall.

You looked down at your hands, expecting to see your palms smeared in the blood of the people that died that day. Despite its absence, you could still feel the sticky wetness of crimson against your skin, marking you as a killer, as the ignorant accomplice to Ardyn's diabolical plan. Your fingers flexed then curled till your nerves rattled from the bite of your nails into your skin.

What would your friends think if they ever found out? Your gaze drifted to the four boys who sat huddled together, exchanging whispers you weren't privy to. The sight of it forced a blade through your throat. You would no longer have a place among them. You would be sitting on the outside looking in, much like you were doing right now. It wasn't fair. Tiny tremors shook your fingers till they rattled your entire body. It wasn't fair that Ardyn would do this to you, someone who was supposed to care about you. He didn't care that he robbed you of your home, robbed you of your king that saw you as more than just a tool to be used. Now he was about to take your friends away from you.

There was no way they would accept you ever again once they found out. A cry bubbled in your throat but never breached the air. You refused to let him get away with it, refused to allow him to wreak havoc upon your life and not answer for it. The seatbelt flew off of your lap with a loud zip and you jumped to your feet. You were done withholding your questions, done withholding your suspicions. He will answer to all of them today and so help him gods if he tries to lie. Your hands practically crackled with tension, demanding a violent retribution that turned your knuckles white.

Footsteps clapped against the tiles, your focus on the door that cut you off from the rest of this god forsaken airship. Someone cleared their throat just as the door slid open from your sensed approach. "You okay over there?" Jaw clenched, you turned around to find not only your boyfriend staring at you, but the rest of your friends as well. A ball lodged in your throat. Soon to be former friends.

"Yeah." You said as nonchalantly as you could muster. "Just heading to the bathroom."

"Oh, tell Ardyn to drop us off at the Chocobo Ranch if you see him!" Prompto perked up in his seat. His cheerful energy was a warm sunny day to the thunderstorm in your core.

You turned around before he could see the darkness swallow your eyes. "Yeah, got it." You were out of the door before they could say another word. The airship was a labyrinth of sharp corners and long hallways. You don't know how long you spent searching, only that every empty room you found chiseled at your angry resolve.

Spending too much time searching led to thoughts, that led to excuses, that led to a hope you tried to smother in your core. Hope that maybe this was all just a big misunderstanding. Ardyn didn't deserve your excuses or the hope that dangled your righteous ire on a thread. He was responsible for so much carnage, so much misery, you could feel it carving at your bones. But you couldn't help that tiny voice in the back of your brain that insisted there was more to the story.

You tortured your bottom lip, gripping your hands in a futile attempt to silence that traitorous thought. But by the time you found Ardyn, your anger was already in shambles, falling like debris into your trembling hands. As much as it sickened you, you did truly hope that there was more to the story, that you weren't just some useful pawn in his schemes, that he wasn't a part of the plan to destroy Lucis.

The door slid open upon your approach and a stream of dull gray light flooded your eyes as you entered the enormous room. Despite its space it was scarcely filled, with only a few MT soldiers scattered about. At the front of the room stood two pilot chairs, one occupied by an MT and the other holding the man you were looking for. Like a phoenix rising for the ashes, your anger spiked, burying your previous sentiments under an ocean of fire.

You charged towards his chair just as his head turned to notice your approach. "Ardyn, we need to talk. Now!" You bit out through gritted teeth.

Discarding the headphones that were previously on his head, he rose from his chair and met you halfway. His eyes were in a state of calm that made your blood boil. "I suppose you are here about the news of my affiliation."

To have the revelation thrown back at you caused the tiny fissures on your heart to crack into a gaping chasm. "You lied to me," you seethed. Your throat was laced in a fiery thread that made the words choke out of you as you said them. "And not just once, but for years! You made me look like a fucking idiot! What else have you been keeping from me, huh? Is Ardyn Izunia even your real name?!" The venomous stream trickled to a halt and you looked at him with eyes that were quickly filling up with tears. "I don't even know who you are anymore."

"My dear." He drew closer to you, his nearness prickled your skin. "I am the same man today that I was yesterday. The same man who guards your secrets, who comforts you when you need it most. My allegiance does not change what share, Aera."

Liar. "And what exactly do we share, a friendship built on lies?" Memories, better left forgotten, lodged in your throat, taunting your tears to fall. Your next words came out as a pathetic whimper, "do you even care about me?" Or was that a lie too? The question sat heavy in the air, making the close distance between you feel miles apart. Even after all the lies your throat still became raw at the thought of Ardyn using you, never truly valuing you. He was the only person in your life who showed you affection that never, at least you thought, depended on what you could do for him.

Your parents' love, if you could even call it that, was as fickle as a child's appetite. Every scrap of affection, every rarely spoken word of praise, depended upon how much Gil you brought home to their grubby little hands. The late king, although he treated you well, only kept you around so long as you benefited his son. A sour tang swept across your tongue and you bit your bottom lip. Even your friends…

You weren't delusional enough to believe they would be in your midst if it weren't for your powers. Everyone in your life was only there because of what you could do for them. But then there was Ardyn. A man who befriended you before you came into your powers. Someone who was there for every high and low. Your eyes burned painfully as the memories flew through your mind, only to burn to ash the moment they drifted too close to the flame. You should've known his affection was too good to be true.

Sorrow marred the gold in his eyes as he searched your face. "Aera, look at me." His voice caressed your ears and you flinched away, eyes lifting to meet his. "Of course I care for you. You are the apple of my eye, the promise after long hours spent tucked away in my office." Snaking his hand around your waist brought you even closer to his body heat. You frowned, hating the way your muscles relaxed under his hand. "I always looked forward to seeing you whenever I could, and the long weeks spent away from you made me long for your presence even more."

A million butterflies took flight in your chest. You wanted to take comfort in the sincerity in his tone, but it could easily be an act. Lies came easily to Ardyn. Apparently, so did acting too. Your skin froze over, causing the butterflies to fall to the ground where they withered to dust.

"Am I supposed to believe that?" You countered. "After all the lies you've told."

He pulled you closer till the coarse fabric of his coat tickled your form. "I have never lied about what you mean to me, my dear. lies are easy to tell, but a facade is not so easy to maintain. think back on all the memories we share, can you remember a time where my actions did not appear genuine?"

Your throat bobbed with a swallow. "Maybe you're just a good actor." Pulling away, you fought against the sense of lost that made you miss his warmth.

Ardyn gave a despondent sigh. "Ask me anything, I am an open book to be read. If you suspect deceit then you may slay me where I stand. I will not fight you if you do."

The promise should've called to your earlier desire for retribution. All it did was freeze the fire under your skin. "I don't want to kill you, Ardyn. I want the truth."

"And I will give you the truth, but only if you allow me."

You stared at him for one second. Two seconds. You couldn't believe you were actually considering his offer. There was nothing stopping him from telling another lie. As your history with him revealed, you were never good at detecting deceit. You frowned. You should just leave. Leave him be and never talk to him again. But the thought of cutting him out of your life felt as painful as severing a limb. So where did that leave you? Your fingers pinched into your covered biceps.

Would it be wrong to hear him out? To feed that tiny glimmer of light that hoped for an explanation to wash away all the wrongs? Yes, yes it was. But as your history taught you, you were never good at making the wisest decisions. Your chin raised with a confidence you did not feel, you stared at him with a challenge. Lie to me and we're done.

Returning the silent gesture, he nodded in acquiescence. You rolled your lips together as you considered the question you should ask first. They waved in your head like the frantic hands of children trying to get their teacher's attention. But one stuck out from all the rest.

Ardyn didn't seem surprised when you asked him if he knew about the plot to betray Lucis. Yes. He said.

"Did you help create that plan?"

Again he admitted it without a fuss.

"Why?"

A long exhale blew out of his nose and he clasped his hands behind his back. "To prove my loyalty to the empire." He stated dryly. That glimmer of light just about flickered off. Your anger returned with a vengeance, webbing under your cheeks like a parasite reclaiming its host. "The emperor is a paranoid shell of a man, mere words are not enough to assuage his fears. I needed to give him what he wanted most. In doing so I was able to bring Noctis where he needed to be."

Your eyes narrowed. "Which was where? Homeless, on the run, constantly fearing for his life?!"

"On the path to becoming the chosen king." He remarked. You were stunned into silence for a moment until that raging fire burned in your molars.

Did Ardyn even care about the magnitude of what he had done? The amount of people that were displaced, the piles of bodies that no doubt littered the streets? You weren't there to see it but you could only imagine the terror, the absolute horror of that day. The mental image seared your brain and clogged your nostrils with imaginary soot. You could even imagine their screams, see the buildings crumble into the hungry fires and tinge the sky pitch black with ash. A shiver rolled through you. The survivors barely escaped with their lives and he had the audacity to blame it on a legend.

"The prophecy." The words tasted like dirt in your mouth. "You did all of this, caused all this suffering, for a fucking story?!"

He had the nerve to not even look regretful over it. "It is no mere tale, my dear. The gods you serve have chosen your prince to be their champion. They are a stubborn lot, once their minds are made no amount of resistance could keep their plans from falling into place. As the former child of light you should know this." Ardyn said.

You swallowed as his words slapped you across the face. He was right. You spent enough time at the temple to know that the gods' decrees could never be challenged. If it was written in stone then it would always come to pass. But was this their bidding? The Lucis Caelum bloodline had always been faithful servants to the gods, second only to the Oracle. So why would the gods allow calamity to storm upon their shores?

It didn't make sense. You were familiar with the prophecy. Knew it spoke of darkness and a king chosen to usher in the light. Could that king really be Noctis? You thought about your friend, of his air of nonchalance and cold disinterest. He was a grown man but in many ways he was still just a boy. There was no way he could be the king the prophecy spoke of. But in many ways it made sense. The kingdom fell and Noctis was the last of his line. Even if the empire never descended upon Lucis that reality would remain, unless Noctis married and had an heir. You shook your head to quiet your internal musings. None of that mattered. Even if Ardyn was right it still didn't change the fact that the fall of Lucis was on his hands. He forced fate, that much was clear.

[guywrestlingaddiction]

That Wrestling Moment: Dark Rogers Rises

One day our hero awoke from a brutal beating and rebuilt himself up as Dark Rogers...

So indulge me for a second while I describe the superhero/villain origin story on how Scott turned Dark.  All images are property of bgeast, all of this is unsanctioned and completely made up, but hey, it just wouldn't be pro gay wrestling without a certain amount of flair, so here we go - 

The Backstory Hard working and earnest, young Scott Rogers always looked forward to his underground wrestling matches.  The butterflies, the nerves, all the adrenaline lit him up like a Christmas tree and like the big day, Scott felt amazing each time he wrestled.  It was a natural high, good clean fun, and a wholesome feeling that followed him for days after wrestling.

But that was all about to change - Entering the dimly lit room, Scott felt an immediate sensation that something was different; not danger or that his life was at stake, but rather that something big and life changing was at stake.  

Scott entered the match gracing that Cowboy getup he found at the thrift store, his friends all told him it suited his 'good guy' image and that this gimmick could help him rise up through the ranks.  "Just a few more years," he thought.  A couple of years of putting punks like Thom Katt in their place and then he'd get his chance to join the big leagues.  

The Action Rogers seethed as he stared down little Thom Katt.  He'd seen his kind before.  Cocky, pushy, and a real bully that took advantage of naïve wrestlers and really got off humiliating them.  This was going to be so worth it to put the little twerp in his place. 

Scott was doing well at first, using his mat work to punish the cocky punk and force him to respect the sanctity of wrestling.  Good always triumphed over evil, or so he thought until ... 

Scott didn't have a chance.  He fought back valiantly but Thom's instantiable hunger for those ripped and hairy pecs could not be satisfied.  Then suddenly, with Scott's strength slowly draining away, Thom unleashed his finishing move; a move in which there was no rallying back.  

The Moment  So here is the exact moment when Scott was broken.  Thom had not only beaten Scott but continued to humiliate and take what he wanted from him.  Each and every bite was another example of Thom ignoring the rules and breaking down our hero.

The moral compass in Scott, always one to play by the rules, shifted as he tried desperately to level the playing field, even biting Thom back, but it was too late.  At this point Scott was too weak and too humiliated to go on and it was just before the pain became too much to bare that he realized he could never get ahead or move up in the ranks being the good guy.  Wrestling for him, would never be good clean fun again.

Only when Thom finally put Scott out of his misery; tying him up and leaving him for his sidekick to find, did the carnage stop.  

Scott was the better man, there was no doubt of that.  The clean cut, play by the rules golden boy; but despite all his hard work and fair play, Thom crushed him in the end.  He was used  up and treated like a personal plaything before being tossed aside.  

And it was at that moment, bashed on the mats, tied up and humiliated, that he knew that the better man would never succeed.  Dark Rogers would need to rise and a heel was born.  

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