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cinnamon-galaxies · 2 days

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𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧

Pairings: Alastor x gn!reader Summary: In which Alastor tries to get rid of you by giving you a dangerous task and explores your room once you have left. What he discovers are things he wishes he could unsee... Warnings/Tags: explicit and suggestive content but no smut, 18+, MDNI, gn reader, Emberlynn-coded reader, unrequited love, reader is obsessed with Alastor and he can barely handle it, second-hand embarrassment, cringe, like, lots of it, exaggerated descriptions, comedy, mentions of violence, murder and death, very brief mention of suicide (Alastor barely keeps his sanity), fandom slander and random references (you either get it or you don’t), Alastor needs his own warning, humiliation, a whole bunch of passive aggressiveness and sarcastic remarks, trash-fic Wordcount: 6.5k A/N: This is a spin-off to my other Emberlynn-coded reader story ‘The Simp’. It can be read as a standalone, though I suggest reading the original first for a better understanding of the reader’s messed up personality and their complicated relationship with Alastor. This one escalated a bit more than I planned. It was originally meant to be much shorter, but I ended up having way too much fun writing it. Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

It was a morning like any other in the hotel. The air was still and tranquil, the residents just beginning to stir as they readied themselves for the day ahead. Alastor strode through the dimly lit halls, his mind set on a singular destination: your room.

A familiar weight settled in his stomach, a feeling that had lingered since the day he claimed your soul. Your insufferable presence had become a constant in his existence, haunting him with a mix of irritation and curiosity. He braced himself for yet another day filled with your exhausting demeanor, yet he knew he had an important task to assign to you.

As he approached your door, he could already hear the faint sounds of movement within – your usual morning routine, perhaps accompanied by some melodramatic humming. The thought made his insides twist, but he reminded himself of the necessity of the task at hand.

In front of your door, Alastor closed his eyes and took a deep breath to prepare himself for yet another one of your annoying tirades, then knocked. Once, twice – the door opened when he moved to knock a third time and he almost punched the air. Immediately, his crimson eyes darted down, and there you stood, already dressed despite the early hour, with an eager grin plastered on your face, your expression brightening like an unexpected sunrise breaking through the clouds.

“Good morning, Alastor!” your squeaky voice disrupted the early quiet of the hotel and Alastor cringed inwardly, his ears twitching at the painful frequency. He opened his mouth to retort with a dry greeting, but before he could utter a single tone you already interrupted him, the words spilling from your mouth like an accelerated record, “Is something wrong? Do you need my help? It’s still so early in the morning and you knocked on my door – I mean you never knock on my door, so there must be something wrong. Is there anything wrong? Do you need my help? Please let me help you, Alastor!”

Instant regret grew inside of him as he tried to keep up with the neverending flood of your words that were uttered so fast he barely managed to understand what you said. He just stood there, staring at you with his mouth slightly agape, overwhelmed and the wheels turning in his head as he tried hard to piece together the fragments of what he caught from your extensive monologue.

“Uhm…” He blinked, staring at your worried but also anticipatory expression, the adrenaline heating up your face like a tomato, making it appear as if it was about to burst. He imagined your head exploding and withheld a chuckle, the mere thought of all your blood and viscera spilled around your room a delightful image in his head.

“Well, my dear, I do in fact have a task for you,” he eventually said, his voice much calmer than he felt. He always relished the stillness of his sleepless nights, when you finally left him alone, allowing him to unwind from the stress you constantly stirred within him. If he weren’t already dead, he’d probably be at risk of a heart attack from your relentless annoyance. Seriously, how could someone as utterly miserable as you be so exhausting? Maybe he should consider seeing a therapist before he completely snapped. It wouldn’t be long before he lost all the control he’d worked so hard to maintain. He could feel it, deep in his bones – the silent scream of agony echoing within him.

You immediately straightened your back at his words, crossing your hands behind your back in anticipation. “Oooh, a task! Tell me! I’ll do it as soon as possible!”

Here's the missing part filled in:

“I sure hope so…” Alastor muttered beneath his breath before he tilted his head to the side and responded much louder, “Well, it is something of high importance…” he drawled out, the radio static in his voice crackling, and he could swear he saw your eyes gleam.

“What is it, Alastor-kun?” you interrupted him, and Alastor’s eye twitched, though he did not further elaborate, choosing instead to let the moment linger with a teasing smile.

“Well, you see… I need you to fetch something from Cannibal Town. There’s a butcher on Carcass Lane who sells the most delectable venison in the entire Pride Ring. I need you to grab some for lunch. Here’s the address and the list of items I need.” He handed you a crumpled piece of paper, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes, and you snatched it from his hands, pressing the note almost against your face while you read it.

Alastor raised his eyebrows as he watched you literally absorb the information, then you looked up and nodded exaggeratedly.

“I'm on my way!” you declared and scurried past him, the wind of your fast movement causing Alastor's hair to flutter. He turned around with a narrowed eye and crooked smile, a look of irritation on his face, but you had already disappeared behind the corner before his eyes could follow. He stared in the direction you just disappeared for a few more seconds before his smile widened into a predatory grin, flashing his sharp and pointy canines with a sudden, exhilarating thrill that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. This was an easy success. You really were so desperate to serve him that you were stupid enough to run to Cannibal Town alone. You, a small little creature, pathetic and completely helpless, were nothing more than prey for the people in this part of the city. Maybe, if he was lucky enough, you'd get eaten before you even reached the butcher shop, and thus a problem would've been solved without much effort on his side. Genius.

Still standing in the doorway, he turned back around. Alastor had never dared to knock on your door before – because of obvious reasons which have just been confirmed to be true. But now that you were gone and hopefully not returning, he got curious. Without further thought he entered your room and closed the door behind him, turning on his heels to take a look around. His eyes widened with every detail that caught his eyes. Bright pink and violet walls clashed with white polished furniture that could've been sourced from a doctor's office. The cabinets and shelves appeared almost sterile compared to the atrocious clutter in and around. Dozens – no, hundreds – of plushies and figurines were crammed into the tiniest of spaces. It was a chaotic explosion of color and fluff, a seemingly random assortment that defied all attempts at organization. The shelf was filled with books and boxes that were somehow puzzled into the space like some kind of a real life Tetris game. The walls – dear Satan, the walls – were suffocatingly plastered with posters in colorful palettes that showed a wide range of grotesquely exaggerated, wide-eyed monstrosities. The eyes of the characters – if they could even be called that – were so enormous that they seemed ready to fall out of their skulls, while their breasts rivaled their heads in size. It was as if the artist had taken every ridiculously hyper-sexualized fantasy and spilled them out on paper to create those unnatural horrors of eyesore that depicted an unhealthy and disrespectful portrayal of the female body. How were their waists so small? Did they even have organs in there? Alastor raised his eyebrow as he eyed the pictures. Some of those creatures bore animalistic features with cat ears, bunny tails and other appendages like they were common in hell, yet seeing the mere addition of those features on such grotesque figures was more than unsettling to him. The others were probably supposed to be human but their proportions were so out of control they looked like misbuilt mannequins from the fashion store of mistrust.

Alastor's eyes drifted further across the wall until they landed on the image of a pale man with sharp pointy ears and curly white hair who was mid-bite on a woman's neck, the blood pouring from the wound and running over the woman's chest in a subtle yet intendedly suggestive way. The text read ‘Baldur's Gate’.

What in Hell's name was a ‘Baldur's Gate’?!

Before his mind could even attempt to comprehend this madness, his gaze landed on another poster with the same writing and same world – but this one featured a woman swooning in the arms of what could be an octopus-man hybrid.

Alastor blinked, horrified. Yes, that was indeed an octopus with glowing eyes and squirming, slimy tentacles wrapping themselves around the poor woman as though she were just another victim of this abhorrent nightmare. Wait – were those tentacles caressing her?!

He gagged, the taste of bile appearing on his tongue. “This is disgusting,” he hissed, a shiver running down his spine. He could barely process what he was seeing. ‘Baldur's Gate’? Hell, maybe you belonged there. Maybe he'd be doing you a favor by sending you straight into that absurd world where vampires, octopus-men, and God knows what else ran free, far away from him, where you could fulfill your worst fantasies of–. He neglected the thought before he could finish it, his stomach churning and the threat of another gag rising in his throat.

But then, his eyes caught something worse. Yes, worse. Somehow the room found a way to outdo itself. Layered posters plastered the other wall – yes, layered – leaving almost no surface of the actual wall visible underneath. And the images – Satan help him – the images were so obscene, he couldn't withhold himself from widening his eyes in shock. Muscular men – half naked and grotesquely exaggerated – posed with claws, fangs, and the most ridiculous expressions of primal desire imaginable. Texts like “Alpha” and “Bite me, baby” screamed from these posters. But the final blow came from a particular poster showing a dripping wet, absurdly muscular mafioso leaning into a shower, a caption in giant, sultry text reading, “Are you lost, babygirl?”

Alastor's jaw practically unhinged as his eyes widened in horror.

What. The. Fuck.

He averted his gaze, barely suppressing another gag, and found himself standing in front of a shelf, hoping for some brief moment of sanity. But no – his hopes were shattered. The shelf was packed with small figurines or more cat-girls and octopus men, between them some green-haired man holding two Katana in his hands and one between his teeth. How the hell could he even fight like this? This didn't make any sense at all. And – was that the sculpture of spaghetti with a face?! He stared at it with one eye widened and the other narrowed, his lids twitching under the pressure and his smile was shaped into a confused grimace. Why the Hell did you have spaghetti on your shelf?! But of course that wasn't all. Between those figurines were even smaller creatures that looked like they'd crawled from the very bowels of an overactive, perverted imagination. With a roll of his eyes and a deepening sense of disgust, he glanced at the books. Big mistake.

How – just how could every single corner of your room be even worse than the last?! He was barely able to keep himself from laughing as he read the titles of the books that were stuffed into the tightest of spaces. Each one was worse than the one before: “Bound by Blood and Lust”, “Slave to the Beast”, “Taken by the Overlord”, “Marked by the Alpha”, “The Alpha's Virgin Omega”... and even more dreadful titles. “My Immortal” was the most normal of them all. But even a harmless title could hide one of the worst stories in all of history. If Alastor knew one thing, then it was that one should never judge a book by its cover – or in this case: title.

He took a deep breath, stepping back from the shelf, his gaze still locked on the chaos around him. He found himself standing before your desk, turning with a low hum, eyes scanning the mess of paper stacks and notebooks with a bizarre mix of morbid curiosity and utter disgust. Your room was like a car crash – something no one wanted to witness, yet impossible to look away from. In a nutshell: It was absolutely atrocious.

With narrowed eyes he took one of the paper stacks in his hands and shuffled through the pages. Most of them were notes and doodles, some better than others, but the majority looked like the deformed mannequin creatures from your posters – only more disturbing. Their eyes, grotesquely oversized and much rounder and bigger than the ones from the posters, were filled with far too many reflections, giving the eerie illusion of tears, yet each character wore an unsettling grin, twisted and unnerving, disturbingly similar to his own at its worst. He continued his expedition through your mess, not surprised to find some drawings of himself but shocked by the sheer quality and painstaking detail you had put into them. Then, his breath caught in his lungs. His eyes widened, pupils constricting in disbelief as he stumbled upon yet another drawing of him – this time, barely dressed, with a lewd speech bubble in the corner. ‘Oh, don’t be shy, little one. I promise, this is one signal that’s sure to reach every part of you…’

He instantly flung the papers aside, recoiling with a loud, distorted radio screech. You truly were a creature of Hell. Did your parents even love you? They must’ve been really bad people if they managed to spawn such a fucked up creature like you… Maybe it was a good idea to just leave the room without exploring your personal belongings any further. Not even getting mauled to death by bloodthirsty dogs was as traumatizing as the deep, dark abyss of your mind. But before he could turn away, something caught his eye. A pink notebook that was adorned with glitter stickers and handwritten quotes lay right in the middle of your desk, a few pens strewn around it as if you were just using it. He knew he shouldn’t. Every single look was worse than the one before. He knew this flashy notebook would most probably hide even more stuff he would regret to ever have seen. However, there was a quiet little voice that tried to lure him into doing something he knew he would regret.

With caution he approached the desk again and reached out his hand, his finger tips grazing the surprisingly soft material of the cover. He held his breath as he took it into his hands and opened it. The first page was adorned with hearts and tiny flower doodles, the image of a cathedral radio in the corner. In the middle of the page stood written in flourished cursive: “Static Lust – A Dark Romance Fanfiction”. Underneath, your name.

He frowned. What was a fanfiction…? With a bad feeling in his guts he turned the page and began to read your surprisingly neat handwriting. His eyes flew over the words, taking in every sentence and he cringed inwardly at the badly written plot. The story was ridiculously self-indulgent, starring you as a tragic figure that was kidnapped and brought to Hell by none other than… him.

Alastor blinked when he read his name, wrinkling his nose and inhaling a deep breath. Of course. He should’ve known. Fan-fiction. Knowing how hard you were in love with him should’ve prepared him for what he was about to discover.

As uncomfortable as he felt, he continued this little venture into the literal intonation of your deepest thoughts. Somehow, it amused him. It was as if he was reading your diary, just more messed up. And most definitely pushing his boundaries.

You portrayed him with a personality that couldn’t be farther off from reality: a lovesick obsessive who wanted nothing but to corrupt you, possess your soul and your whole being. He couldn’t believe what he was reading. The sheer absurdity of it all – the dramatized seduction, the over-the-top description of his passion for you were unbearable to read. Yet, he couldn't stop himself from continuing the story. His eyes continuously trailed over every sentence, soaking in the words as if his life depended on it while his heart sank deeper into his guts. His expression was completely motionless and his already pale face drained of even the last bits of color. The worst was: it didn’t stop here. As the story progressed, so did your so-called ‘romance’.

His fingers trailed along my jaw, claws grazing my delicate skin as he kept his gaze locked with mine, crimson eyes boring themselves into my very core as if he was reading my soul. I felt completely naked under his gaze, caught between desire and a flicker of fear at his imposing form. “Be mine,” he growled with a deep sultry voice, the radio static gone and his hot breath grazing against my cheeks. Sharp teeth glinted from behind his smile, a silent threat yet so intriguing. The danger, his power, his possession were palpable. Everything left me completely breathless and a shiver ran down my spine, causing the butterflies in my stomach to flutter wildly around. It was a tingling feeling, one that jolted electricity through my veins and into the depth of my core.

He swallowed hard at the description, nausea taking over his stomach, replacing the appetite he just had for a tasty bite of rotting venison. He would never say something like that to you. He would never do something like that to you. And most importantly, he could never love you. He wasn’t even able to love. But even if he were, he'd be more likely to fall for Lucifer than he would ever waste a single thought on you.

‘Be mine.’

He let out a huff. You were already his. Certainly not in the way you wanted it to be, but he owned your soul. Which meant he could do to you however he pleased. But nothing similar to this bullshit from your writing, obviously.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed as he continued to read and the story development was truly as bad as his characterization and anything else. The more he continued, the more his eyes widened in horror. It didn’t take long for the writing to turn explicit – vulgar and smutty. Each sentence was dripping with suggestive language, painting a picture of you and him in intimate situations.

I couldn't resist him any longer, the way he dominated the room, the power in his every movement. My heart raced as he leaned in closer, his voice a seductive purr that caused my hairs to stand up. “You were a naughty little thing,” Alastor whispered, his lips brushing my ear and his voice dropped to a baritone that vibrated in his throat, “and you deserve to be punished.” I shuddered, feeling my entire body tremble in anticipation. “Alastor…” “Uh, uh, uh,” he brushed me off, his nose grazing the skin on my neck while his hot breath sent shivers down my spine and right into my core. “Say it. Say, ‘Punish me, Sir,” he commanded, and I–

Alastor slammed the book shut for a moment, closing his eyes as if to cleanse himself from what he had just read. He let out a sharp exhale, then opened the notebook again with a resigned sigh, morbidly fascinated by the sheer audacity of your words. His smile became brittle, twitching as he forced himself to read on.

Alastor pressed me firmly against the wall, his finger tracing a line down my neck, the touch gentle but brimming with control. I felt his sharp claws graze my skin, leaving faint red marks that would serve as a silent testament to his claim over me. I remained still, terrified that the wrong move could turn his claws from teasing to lethal. “So naughty…” he growled in my ear, his voice sending a shiver down my spine before he stepped back, creating a cold distance between us. The sudden loss of his warmth sent a chill through me, goosebumps prickling across my skin as I resisted the urge to reach for him, knowing he wouldn't tolerate such disobedience. Alastor’s intense gaze swept over my body, lingering on every inch, and I could feel the heat pooling between my legs, the wetness trailing down my thighs. “Strip,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. I obeyed without a second thought.

This was absurd. This was disgusting. This was absolutely disturbing. This was how you viewed him? A domineering, smoldering lover? The mere idea was enough to make his skin crawl.

He gagged once more, the mere thought of touching you making him recoil in pure revulsion. This went beyond simple disgust. It was something far deeper. What was any of this supposed to be? Did you actually believe he could ever reciprocate your twisted feelings? Were you truly so desperate that you wrote an entire book about him doing such indecent things to you? He couldn’t comprehend it, and it only worsened his already low opinion of you. He knew he shouldn’t have read it, but did you honestly think he wouldn’t find out eventually?

Part of him just wanted to die again. To disappear and never return, to tear out his eyes and brain and offer them to his equals in Cannibal Town. Was there anyone in Pentagram City who still performed lobotomies? He definitely needed one after this monstrosity of an insult to all literature ever created.

He flipped through pages in haste, no longer bothering to read the entire story, just skimming over a few lines here and there. With every word, it became more unbearable. The grotesque images your writing forced into his mind were intolerable, destined to haunt him for the far future where they would resurface in his rare moments of sleep and flash before his eyes every time he looked at you. It was obscene, nonsensical, and revolting. Violating not only his sense of decency but also his personal boundaries.

What started off as a toxic fast-paced back and forth between the two characters turned out to be nothing more than a pure over-sexualized scandal. You and Alastor would do it everywhere. In the bed, in the shower, in the hotel's parlor, on the counter of Husk's bar – even on the balcony while you glared up at one of Vox’s drones, knowing damn well the television freak would watch. He even found a chapter in which he took you into his radio station and broadcasted your moans all over Hell, so everyone knew that you belonged to him.

“Ah, Alastor-kun!” I moaned in both pain and pleasure.

“Punish me, Mister Radio Demon, Sir!”

“Ah, harder, deer-daddy!”

“YAMETE KUDASAI!!!”

He slammed the book shut again and dared not to open it again. What. The. Actual. Fuck. Was wrong with you?!

His face was white as chalk, his eyes twitched and for the first time in decades, his smile had disappeared and instead, his face was adorned by a completely and utterly traumatized grimace. This was… this was an affront to his dignity, to his entire being.

His thoughts raced like a whirlwind as he imagined every possible way to make you regret this. To punish you – not in the way you do desperately wanted – but actually punish you in the most gruesome and painful ways he could imagine. Over the decades, Alastor got creative with his murders. Maybe he would even discover new ways to torture a soul before tearing it apart, shredding it into pieces to ensure not only your death but to erase your existence from history entirely. Perhaps he’d even find a way to prevent you from ever being born at all.

Fuck.

But until then, he would keep his rage silently hidden inside of him, deep behind the walls he had constructed to maintain his control.

Alastor let out a laugh, though it was more out of frustration than amusement, the sound hollow and laced with irritation. Of all the souls he could have ended up owning, it had to be yours – lovesick simp with a disturbing penchant for writing self-indulgent filth. Oh yes, you were destined to be his punishment. The punishment Alastor most probably deserved in his afterlife. But before he could continue his train of thoughts, he got interrupted.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” your frantic voice shattered the silence of your room as you burst through the door, nearly knocking it off its hinges. Alastor flinched, startled by the sudden commotion. His head turned a full 180 degrees to face you, accompanied by the snapping of bones and sharp crackle of radio static, and you froze mid-step, locking eyes with him.

You blinked once, then twice. “Oh, Alastor! I'm so sorry!” you cried, your eyes glistening with tears. “I’m so, so sorry! I screwed up!”

He stood there, holding your notebook, his expression frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. His heart raced in his chest as you hurried toward him, trembling slightly.

“I went to the butcher, but I forgot my purse at the hotel! I had to come back for it!” you rambled, breathless, and Alastor’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m so sorry I won’t have your supplies in time! Please forgive me, Alastor! Or punish me! I’d love to be punished! I–I mean – I deserve to be punished! I can also punish myself if you prefer! Just forgive me for being so stupid!” you pleaded, completely oblivious to the fact that Alastor stood in front of you with your most mortifying secret in his hands.

Tears streamed down your face, but Alastor just stared, mouth slightly agape, yellow teeth peeking through as he stood there, overwhelmed. He held your notebook in his hands, the disturbing contents trapped between its thick covers, while you rambled on about a forgotten purse and your desire for punishment. All the while, you remained utterly unaware of the true embarrassment in front of you.

“Uh…” Alastor exhaled at a loss of words.

You gazed up at him with teary, wide eyes, then your eyes slowly drifted down to his hands. Realization hit you like a train. Your eyes widened and grew so big in size that they rivaled with the creatures on your posters, the color from your face draining, turning your skin from pale to snow-white in an instant.

“No...” you breathed, your voice weak and barely above a whisper. You shook your head slowly, stepping back, repeating the word in disbelief, as if doing so could undo the reality before you.

Alastor's initial shock dissolved into a wicked grin. His pupils constricted, and the glow in his crimson eyes intensified with a dangerous gleam. Watching your horror unfold, filled him with a surge of dark satisfaction and the thought of simply torturing you felt far too mild now. No, this reaction was much more satisfying, much more delicious. His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as an idea took root. This wasn't just good. It was perfect. The situation was playing right into his hands.

“Well, my dear, it appears that you've stumbled into quite the predicament, huh?” his static-filled voice broke the uncomfortable silence and he turned around fully, tilting his head in a derogatory manner. “Care to explain?” He asked, his fingers tapping against the book one after another, the sound of his claws clapping against its surface a haunting melody. His voice was much too light and way too cheerful for what he felt on the inside, but it was the perfect way to confront you with the danger you just put yourself into. It made him hard to read. It put him in charge.

“Well… uh… uhm…” you stumbled, momentarily speechless. Alastor could see the wheels turning in your head and he noticed your pale cheeks turn a red color that was almost as vibrant as his coat.

He took a step closer and tilted his head further, almost holding it at a 90 degrees angle. “Well…?”

“I– it's not what–” you started but Alastor interrupted you.

“Save this nonsense. This is exactly what it looks like, dear. Now, tell me, what is this thing you're so ashamed of, huh?”

You began to fumble with your shirts, fingers fidgeting with the fabric as your breaths grew more ragged. “I–I–It's… a diary!” you shouted that last word. “A diary! Yes, yes! Nothing more! Just a few thoughts about my life at the hotel!” you tried to save yourself from this situation, crafting a lie that was so obvious that even the most stupid person would've seen right through it. And, after all, it's not that Alastor didn't just read page after page with an abhorred expression. But you didn't need to know. Not yet. He'd let you squirm a little before dropping the bombshell. So, he just raised an eyebrow and turned the notebook in his hands, eyeing it from all sides with faux curiosity. “Is that so?” he drawled and you seemed to shrink under his looming presence and intense gaze.

You nodded hastily, your whole body vibrating with the simple movement. “Yes! Yes…”

“Well…” Alastor paused for a moment, glancing down at the supposed ‘diary’ and then darting his eyes at you from under his lashes, a quick flicker of mischief dancing across his features but no less intense.

You swallowed. And Alastor could see your throat jolt up and down.

“Well,” he repeated, “if it's just about the hotel, then I guess you wouldn't mind if I take a look.” He moved his hand to open the notebook but your panicked voice interrupted him.

“No!”

He stopped his movement, thumb and index just touching the upper rim of the front over. He raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh? And why's that?”

“Because… because… it's not good. It's just… bullet points and quick notes. Nothing special, really! Just ugly smearing and shitty drawings!” You explained in a rush, nervously shifting your weight from one foot to the other while you bit the corners of your cheeks and your hands kept fumbling with your shirt.

Wait. Drawings? Alastor blinked. There were illustrations in there too?! He swallowed. Hard. Though his expression did not reveal any of the discomfort that crept through his veins like a venomous snake on the hunt for something to eat.

“Oh come on, they can't be so bad!” Alastor assured while he made sure his fingers lingered at the very same spot, a silent threat that he could – and would – open the book any second.

Tears welled up in your eyes again as you stared up at him with pursed lips, a pleading expression on your incredibly blushed face as you silently, yet loud enough for everyone to hear, begged he would put it aside and dismiss your personal belongings.

You folded your hands in front of you as if praying to some God, your voice barely above a whisper, “I mean it, Alastor. Please don't open the book. Please…"

Oh, this was delicious. This was so much better than any torturing method he had imagined just mere minutes ago. Your pleading expression, the fear in your eyes, the way you so desperately tried to keep him from opening the book while you were completely unaware of the fact that he had already read its contents. That he knew about your deepest, dirtiest desires, your pathetic longing for him that must’ve affected you so strongly you spend hours and hours of your free time to create something this atrocious… He could see your body tremble. He noticed every inch of your skin on fire, every single hair standing on edge. He smelled the panic that surged through your veins and heard the blood rushing through your arteries, powered by the frantic beating of your pounding heart in your chest.

The silence between you stretched on and Alastor enjoyed every second of it, reveled in this moment of utter uncertainty. He heard your ragged breaths, how you tried to force yourself to keep your breathing as steady as possible, fighting against the tears that glistened in your eyes. Alastor realized you resembled the drawings he’d discovered in that chaotic stack of paper, and his grin grew even more sinister, exposing his sharp fangs in all their menacing glory.

It was at this moment he knew time had come to drop the bombshell. To reveal the truth to you and humiliate you with the product of your own creativity.

“‘Deer-daddy’, huh?” he casually quoted one of the lines from your story and he saw you twitch, his sadistic satisfaction growing even stronger.

“What?” you whimpered in shock but before you could say more, Alastor opened the notebook and flipped to the very page where he read it, turning the book around for you to face your own writing and pointing with his clawed finger at the line.

“Here it is, ‘deer-daddy’,” he repeats again, tapping against the page twice. Then he inhaled deeply, raised one eyebrow and looked at you like a disappointed parent. “First off, I am not your father,” he clarified, his tone still casual, a subtle hint at the hidden danger underneath his facade. “And secondly… Wouldn’t that make the whole plot of your story a little… incestuous…?”

The trembling of your body intensified and your breaths got quicker, impossible to control as you found yourself at the brink of hyperventilation.

“Oh, come now, dear. Why so nervous…?” he drawled and your lips began to tremble.

“You…” you started but your breath caught in your throat, your voice trembling as much as your body. “You… read… it…?”

Alastor fell silent for a moment, his burning red eyes taking in your pitiful state. Then his smile widened, casual yet unnervingly so, before he cheerfully exclaimed, “Of course I did! How could I resist this flashy little booklet you so obviously displayed in the middle of your desk? I simply had to read it!” He closed the book and thrust the cover into your face, an exaggerated gesture meant to highlight its eye-catching design. The stickers you had playfully plastered on now seemed to mock you for forgetting to hide it away.

Holding the book closer to himself again, he shifted his gaze between it and you. “But let’s be honest, dear. Your storytelling could use some work.” He opened the book again and flipped through the pages. “You started off strong with your self-insert and their dramatic backstory – it caught my interest at first. But come on. Kidnapped into Hell? By the Radio Demon, due to a ridiculous Halloween bet gone wrong?” He raised an eyebrow at the sheer absurdity of the plot before he continued, “First off, summoning me to Earth requires much more than a little pentagram, some candles, and a radio. I deserve better sacrifices than that. And do you honestly think I’d find a pathetic little human being, especially one like you, interesting? What could you possibly offer in return for my favor besides your fragile soul? I’m not the kind to wait years or decades for a death so a bargain can be fulfilled. It’s simply… inconvenient.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, as he critiqued your writing like an editor at a publishing house.

“And kidnapping someone just because of their ‘tempting nature’ and without further motive? That’s quite foolish. What if the Sins found out? Or other powerful beings in charge?” He stepped closer, glaring down at you with a still raised eyebrow, his casual demeanor betraying a hint of enjoyment in your discomfort. “Don’t you think they’d come after you if they learned that a human managed to survive a descent to Hell? Honestly, you’re missing quite a thrilling plot here.”

Alastor’s eyes flicked over the pages, taking in fleeting words without truly reading. He didn’t need to reread to recall the errors and striking details; they were burned into his mind – probably for the rest of eternity. As he took a deep breath, he stumbled upon a lewd drawing of you and him tangled together on a desk – something he must’ve overlooked before and wished he could forget now. So, there were illustrations in this book. You didn't lie.

Blinking, he turned the page, pushing aside this humiliation for a moment to continue his critique, “While your writing style is surprisingly enticing, the rest of the story lacks character development, thrill, and depth. It could have been executed much better – if we ignore the fact that it centers around me being your beau and engaging in... inappropriate activities while indulging in exaggerated displays of carnal desires. You’re a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” He chirped, glancing at you with anticipation, waiting for you to form a response. But you were speechless. Not a single word managed to leave your lips as you just stared at him, dumbfounded, your mouth agape and eyes widened in horror and confusion.

Alastor sighed. “Oh come now, dear. If you can be so bold to bring such an imagination to paper you can surely just answer my question.”

“I–,” you stuttered, pausing to gather your strength to do as he commanded. But instead, the words tumbled out as an apology. “I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude–”

“Uh, uh, uh, dear!” Alastor interrupted, waving his index finger in front of your face. Your eyes squinted, tracking its movement. “We both know you’re not ashamed of intruding on anything related to me. Considering you’ve been following me around with those doting eyes of yours ever since the day you begged me to take your soul. You’re a bold little creature, utterly devoid of dignity, feeling the need to humiliate me in the process.”

He closed the book and handed it back to you. Your trembling hand snatched it from his grip, and you hugged it protectively against your chest, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths to steady yourself. Meanwhile, Alastor continued his scolding, stepping closer until there was barely a foot of distance between you. He tilted his head, looming over you like a predator, eyes narrowed and teeth flashing.

His voice dropped, growing darker with each word, the static crackling around him making the air feel charged as he hissed, “I suggest you cease this violation of my privacy before I make sure you regret every little thought you’ve ever dared to indulge in regarding such frivolities.”

For a fleeting moment, his eyes turned an abyssal black before returning to their fiery hue. It was a subtle threat, yet clear as day. He lingered, staring down at you, savoring your pathetic state, before shadows engulfed him, pulling him into darkness until he vanished completely, leaving you alone in your room with just your thoughts and the memory of the consequences of your inappropriate behavior.

Yes, he definitely needed that therapist.

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mirrorhouse · 11 hours

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okayyy i finished tva and i think ive come to appreciate marius more as a "concept" in a way, even though i don't find him all that compelling or likeable purely as a character on his own

but instead, being this big important force in armand's life; this spectre deep in the back of his mind during their centuries apart; this glimmering walking reminder of the past, the good and the painful, once they reunite. the one who saved him, reshaped him, made him. the one who bought him, took advantage of him, owned him. armand's feelings towards him being turbulent and complicated, love mixed with fear mixed with hatred; armand not wanting to be dependent on him again though he craves that familiar feeling of all consuming love and servitude at the same time. the way it hurts knowing marius will never love him the way he used to, the way he's always seen himself as a disappointment who couldn't live up to marius' expectations of him. marius, his parent who of course always knows what's best for his child even when he kicks and screams against it. father saviour master mentor murderer lover abuser maker. how marius' relationship with armand informed and influenced armand's own relationships with others. the connections marius has with so many of armand's loved ones and how that hangs over everything

i can appreciate his presence and importance to armand like that. and i can also find him supremely irritating and self-righteous and terrible in a not-fun-way and want to kick him in the balls

#kind of disjointed thoughts and its not rly all of them and doesnt super get into their confrontation at the end #but. this is just how i feel about him #iwtvposting

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blossomingmoonlight · 1 month

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⭑ Our sweet sister ⭑

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: Aemond has been waiting for years to marry his favourite sister, Aegon agreed it was the only way of keeping her close of making sure she only belonged to them. But her being given away to a dornish prince changes everything.

Warnings: NSFW, +18 mdni, targcest, murder, threesome (my first), making out, mastrubation, grinding, fingering, oral (both m and f receiving), vaginal sex, breeding kink, mommy kink, titty sucking, creampie, switch Aegon, dom Aemond and Aegon being drunk as always.

Word count: 3.3k

The early morning rays shone through your window in the Red Keep as your handmaiden finished up with your hair. She always had a need to have your hair perfect, not one strand out of place. With some pins she adjusted the headpiece with the sheer black fabric and green and gold details. Your mother, Queen Alicent, could arrive any moment with your twin sister Heleana, to pick you up for prayer at the sept.

You absolutely despised it but you could never disobey your mother. You were her favourite daughter after all. She always tried to get close to Heleana but you knew your twin preferred to keep her distance from everyone. Even though you were twins, you didn’t really look alike. Both of you of course had the silver hair and lilac eyes of house Targaryen but your facial features were different from hers.

The door opened and your mother and sister entered your chamber. “My dear, how did you sleep?” Alicent asked as she adjusted your headpiece a bit, at which your handmaiden frowned. “Fine, shall we leave?” You stood up and Alicent stopped fussing with your hair, following you out instead. Strolling through the halls with your mother and sister in front of you, Aemond walked passed giving you a small smile. To which you mouthed a silent “Help me”, he chuckled as he gave you one last sympathetic smile over his shoulder.

You thanked the gods the morning passed swiftly, for you were already on your way back to the Red Keep. When you reached the door of your bedchamber you hurriedly went inside as your handmaiden stood at the ready for your, often daily, dragon ride with Aemond. She helped you quickly change into your dragon riding attire. You and Aemond have always been extremely close, always there for each other, both the favourite children. But ever since Aemond started to grasp for more power, he started to lose the favour of his mother, her now fully turning her attention to you.

Your eldest brother, Aegon, had never been much loved by your mother. And because of your maturity and grace, he started to cling to you instead. This was the root of your complicated but deep connection with your older brother, everytime he got scolded or drunk he would turn to you. Now this used to be in an innocent way but lately the winds started to shift, Heleana was more distant from him then ever, his mother had just been ignoring him and his father on the doorstep of death. You hadn’t seen him yet today, so you assumed he was still asleep, you would check on him later.

As for now, you would take to the skies with your other brother. You couldn’t admit it but the way people were terrified when the two of you flew together made you feel so powerful. Yes the two biggest dragons of the realm were a godly sight indeed. You claimed Vermithor, The Bronze Fury, at age ten and two. That evening at Dragon Stone with your family was an interesting one. Everyone either preparing for bed or still drinking and talking was disrupted by the notice of your absence and the terrifying screeches and roars from the Bronze Fury below. Your mother demanded you to be rescued at once, for Vermithor was known to be relentless and fierce, having not accepted a rider after the old king died. But you were much like the dragon when it came to fierceness, you weren’t afraid. And so when the guards, dragon keepers and your family arrived at the cave where the dragons resided. You stood there, in your nightgown, hand on Vermithor’s nose. After years the Bronze Fury had been claimed... by a little girl.

Aemond joined you in the training yard where your horses were waiting to take you to the outskirts of the city, for Vermithor and Vhagar were both too big for the Dragon Pit. You were both quick to mount and race through the city to get to your dragons. When you arrived, Vermithor and Vhagar were both resting next to each other, they too, formed a close bond, as they only had each other outside the dragon pit. Both of them lifted their heads and grumbled and roared at the sight of the two of you, knowing they could fly with their riders again. You both climbed on your mounts and took to the sky, frightening the shit out of towns beneath you.

It felt good to be with Aemond, natural but powerful at the same time. You knew his desperate want for the throne but that still couldn’t change how you saw him. By the time you came back the sun had begun to set and you both knew supper would be soon. So you returned with your brother to the Red Keep where two guards were waiting to take you to the dining room. As you both entered your mother wore a disapproving look on her face, she didn’t like the two of you flying for so long but when it also cut into her time with her family she really got annoyed. “You stink of dragon.” She began. “We only just got back mother, time gets away from us on dragon back.” Aemond defended. You took your seats next to each other, Aemond to your right. Aegon to your left. Heleana to his left. Her head down as she mumbled to herself. Aegon slumped in his seat as always, probably already drunk and waiting for supper to end so he could sneak out to his whores.

There was a tension in the air, your mothers and grandfather's eyes were on you. Only then did you really take in your mother, teary eyed, red cheeks, looking down. Weird. You thought, you looked at your grandfather, the hand of the king, questioningly. “You are twenty years old already,” He began, you still looked at him confused but deep down you knew where this was heading, again. “For 4 years I have been searching for a good match for you, I have tried again and again to match you with someone you could grow to like, maybe even love and yet, you refuse them.” Otto stood up from his chair, “Alas, I have had enough. Your father, sadly, cannot make these decisions anymore, so I have. Now an opportunity has arisen, one that I have been waiting for.”

“House Martell is looking for a fine lady to marry their second son, prince Robyn. I sent a letter a while ago and they have agreed to accept your hand.” Two hands slammed on the table as Aemond stood up in rage. “You will do no such thing! She is a Targaryen princess! She will not be married off to some Dorne cunt!” He yelled, you could only look down. You knew this day would come, where they would be fed up with your defiance and force you to marry. But it seemed your brother would not give up without a fight.

What you didn’t expect was for Aegon to stand up as well. “My sister is the most beautiful and fine Targaryen princess of the realm, I stand with Aemond. You will not marry her off to some plain man of house Martell.” You were taken by surprise, Aemond’s reaction was expected but you didn’t know Aegon cared so much too. Otto Hightower leaned slightly over the table. “She will marry him, he and his family should be here on the morrow. End of discussion!” He sneered. You stood up and left without a word. You went to bed that night knowing your calm, easy life in King’s Landing was alas over. Aemond however, thought otherwise.

After everyone had gone to bed he was still awake, mauling over the dinner. In a fit of rage at the memory he left his chambers and almost ran to his older brothers. He could hear the disturbance inside yet he did not care, not when his beloved sister was about to be sold off like a broodmare. He passed the guards and pushed open the door. Aegon's bedchambers were completely destroyed, cups, tapestries, pillows, blankets were everywhere, glass and wine splayed on the grounds and walls. Aegon was standing over a small table that used to hold his wine. “Brother.” Aemond urged. Aegon looked up, his eyes bloodshot and fist balled up. “There is only one way to stop this, to keep her here.” Aegon didn’t even respond, he just nodded. They were very different from each other but they both had one thing in common, they loved you.

You woke up from a restless sleep to the entire Red Keep in disarray, you could hear shouting and arguing from inside your bedchamber and just as you were about to open the door. Heleana entered your bedchamber, hands covering her ears. You knew if Heleana looked to hide with you, it was bad. “What is it? Hel, what happened? Tell me.” She looked at the ground and muttered. “They’re dead.” Fear struck your heart as you thought the worst, her children? Your brothers? “What?! Who is Heleana?” You grabbed her hands and sat her down on your settee. “House Martell, at least, the prince and his father. Qoren Martell is now to be their new king.” You couldn’t help but smile. “How did they die?” Heleana finally looked at you, “They say Aegon and Aemond left in the middle of the night. No one could stop them as Aegon mounted Sunfyre and Aemond mounted Vhagar, they burned them on the Fork Road until nothing but ashes were left. Grandfather is furious as you might have heard.”

That was the end of a short betrothal between you and the prince of Dorne. It took two weeks for things to finally calm in the Red Keep. But the two brothers' plans to keep you here were not completed. Sure their enemy was dead but it would be sooner or later the hand found a new match so they had to make sure you couldn’t marry. You were sitting in your bedchamber on your settee, in your nightgown, your long silver hair down while reading a book about The First Men. When all of a sudden your bedchamber creaked open, as you looked up from your book both Aegon and Aemond entered your bedchamber. You weren’t allowed to speak to them, for two weeks you hadn’t been able to leave other than to pray by your mothers request. You couldn’t help but smile as both of them entered with a mischievous grin on their faces. You also noticed the guards outside were gone.

“You know you aren’t allowed to be here.” You said closing your book. They didn’t say a word as Aegon went and sat down on the settee in front of you, while Aemond settled next to you. “For two weeks we have lived in agony of not seeing you, not speaking to you. But as you know, Aegon and I have taken matters into our own hands. You, are ours. And we will do anything and burn anyone to keep you here.” Aemond spoke as he moved your hair behind your ear, placing a featherlight kiss on your neck making your eyes flutter shut. A fire started to burn inside you, heart thumping in your chest and a tingling feeling in your abdomen. When you opened your eyes you saw Aegon looking at you through half lidded eyes, his lips parted as you noticed a bulge in his pants. You weren’t stupid, you knew what sex was and you knew what they wanted and oh did you want it too.

“You, I think, know how we can keep you here. If your innocence is ruined, you’ll have no choice but to marry Aemond. You’ll stay here and have his children and of course you can keep taking care of me as well, right sister?” Aegon spoke, now standing up and moving to sit at your right side. You could only nod as Aemond groaned and moved his hand up your thigh, while Aegon grabbed your chin and smashed his lips on yours. Moving his lips feverishly against yours. Teeth clashing, tongue entwining and hands moving to rip off any clothes that were on you in the first place. Aemond finally had you bare next to him as his hand moved between your thighs, his lips and tongue moving over your neck. You moaned in Aegon's mouth, even your filthiest fantasies couldn’t compare to the real thing.

“Need you so bad mommy.” Aegon whined against your lips. You could hear a faint chuckle from Aemond who now used two fingers to tease your wet folds. “Listen to him, you haven’t even touched him yet and he’s already begging for it.” You couldn’t even speak as Aegon refused to stop kissing you. Aemond now circling your clit with his fingers making your free hands grip the fabric of the settee. Aegon started to remove his own clothes while never leaving your lips as Aemond paused to take off his as well. Both men now in their breeches, their hard ons evident between their legs. The effect you had on them made you feel like a goddess. You had them wrapped around your finger and they had you wrapped around theirs.

Aemond moved off the settee and kneeled between your legs, you looked down at him as he undid the clasp of his eyepatch, the sapphire in his eye socket twinkling in the candlelight. Aegon moved his lips down towards your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and suckling on it like a babe. Aemond started to kiss between your thighs moving further until he reached your aching cunt. Tongue darted out as he began to lap at your folds. You could barely breathe as pleasure consumed you. Aegon sucked and licked at your breast hungrily, holding the other in his hand and using his right hand to pull down his breeches enough to free his cock. As Aemond continued to eat you like a starved man making you moan and whine, Aegon started to pump his cock, eager for that pure bliss. "Fuck- mommy-" Aegon mumbled.

Both brothers groaned and panted against you, Aemond now palming himself through his breeches. He couldn’t help it, he was too impatient. Precum started to leak from Aegon’s tip, he moaned and whined around your nipple. You couldn’t take it anymore, the erotic sounds, the feeling of one brother fucking you with his tongue and the other sucking on your breast while he was pleasuring himself, with a gasp and a plead you reached your peak. Seeing spots of how hard you squeezed your eyes shut. Your thighs clamping together around Aemonds head, which he forced right open before he stood back up. You hadn’t even noticed he removed his breeches as well. His cock stood proud, also leaking from the mere sight of you bare before him.

Aemond eyed Aegon hungrily, also seemingly turned on by the noises he made. Not to mention the sight of him at your breast while fucking his own fist. Aemond pulled Aegon of your nipple by his jaw and forced him to face his brother, before pulling him in a harsh kiss. Aegon made a strangled noise at the action and stopped pleasuring himself to hold the back of Aemond’s head, not wanting to let go of him. Then Aemond pushed his knee between Aegon's legs right against his hard cock.

Aegon gasped against his brother's lips, you whined at the sight, never had you seen such an erotic scene before you and you were begging the gods to not let it stop. Aemond didn’t stop there but started to move with more pressure against Aegon’s cock, capturing his moans in his mouth. Aegon removed himself from Aemond’s lips for a moment. “Please- don’t stop- feel so good.” He mumbled. Your hand unconsciously slid down your body, touching yourself was the only way to relieve that nagging ache that returned again. But to Aegon and to your surprise, Aemond did stop. Making Aegon whine at the removal of the contact. “On the bed, both of you.” Aemond commanded, and both of you scrambled towards your bed.

Aemond followed, positioning you like you weighed nothing. Putting you on your hands and knees, commanding Aegon to move towards your head while he stayed behind you. Aegon knew exactly what Aemond wanted and already held the base of his cock to smear his precum across your parted lips. Aemond grazed your other lips with his cock, smearing your arousal around. He reached out his hand to Aegon. “Spit.” Aegon did as told immediately and let his saliva drop onto his little brother's hand. Which Aemond used to coat his cock making it easier to breach your maidenhead. Aegon entered your mouth and hissed at the feeling, somehow this was better then any whores cunt. His sister and his brother sharing the bed with him was better than a thousand whores.

You softly sucked on Aegon’s cock while Aemond pushed the head of his into your cunt. You whined around Aegon while Aemond sank further into you, a shuddering breath leaving his lips at the feeling of his sister's tight hole around him. He had waited so long, feeling sure that the two of you would be wed but that day never came, and it would never unless he took the matter into his own hands. Moans, gasps and panting filled the moonlit room, it was almost an ethereal sight. Three silver haired bodies becoming one. When Aemond felt you relax and Aegon started to carefully fuck your mouth, he started to move as well. Wanting nothing more than to fill you with his seed that would hopefully take root so he could finally make you his wife and mother of his children. "Oh mommy feels so good-" Aegon whined.

As your moans grew louder, Aemond started to fuck into you harder. Gripping your hips so he could move you against him as well. Aegon was the first to finish, being already so pent up and horny he didn’t last long in your warm wet mouth. With a gasp of your name he filled your throat with his cum, fingers entangled in your hair for support. He pulled his softening dick out and laid down next to you catching his breath. Aemond started to now pound into you like a wild animal, it seemed as if he was so lost in pleasure he couldn’t hear or see anything else but you. Aegon however, with a clearer mind, sat up and moved closer to you. Letting his hand trace your body to where you and Aemond were connected.

Moving his fingers until he found your clit, you confirmed with a moan. He let his fingers rub against your sweet spot adding to the pleasure of your building orgasm. You pleaded for more, and Aegon started to move his fingers in rhythm with Aemond. This was all you needed, all you needed to scream out their names while gripping the sheets in ecstasy. Your walls clenched around Aemond, making him see stars. Aegon removed his fingers and watched in awe as his brother fucked you relentlessly.

However Aemond’s thrusts were getting sloppier. And his cursing and groaning made it clear he was about to peak as well. With a couple of final thrusts he came hard. Making sure to go as deep as possible, he spurted his cum right against your cervix. Surely filling your womb with his spent. Giving you a couple of lazy trusts he made sure to be completely milked empty before pulling out. Letting himself fall on the bed next to you so he could pull you against his side. Aegon, not wanting to be left out of it, crawled against your other side, cuddling up next to you. What you didn’t notice, was how the door was accidentally left ajar. Your brothers made sure the entire Red Keep knew of your bedding. Surely they can’t deny Aemond his sister now?

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #hotd smut #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x aemond targaryen x reader smut #aegon targaryen x aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aemond x reader

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bnerdler · 2 years

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Men who cannot understand women lack empathy!

#its not their fault #they were conditioned by society to view women as Other and wholey separate from themselves #this is very specifically about the women in naruto #im at the bit where sasuke is choosing to leave the village and sakura is like #oh sasuke i know how you feel so lonely bc all your family were murdered #bc i would feel the same if you left #like the author just could not comprehend that a woman is capable of having motivations other than loving and supporting a man #Inos whole characterization is her love rivalry with sakura for sasuke #Hinatas whole characterization is about how uwu shes so shy and loves naruto #tenten is just there to be a spunky bg support to neji and rock lee #tamari is the smart older sister character to support gaara #even tsunade who has probably the strongest characterization still has all of her motivations affected by her proximity to men #like how shes the granddaughter of the 1st hokage and her boyfriend and brother died and how naruto reminds her of them #and how the first real project she throws herself into when she gets back to the leaf village is to fix rock lee #bc thats all women really do in naruto is support and fix the men who have complicated and varied motivations none of which have to do with #their relationships to women #bc men are real ppl with understandable thoughts and feelings capable of deep relationships but women are completely unknowable #i just think its sad more than anything

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planetwaynez · 4 months

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bad ideia right?

Jason x Roy x Fem!Reader

Notes: I've been cooking this JayRoy x Fem!Reader for some time now, the only thing is... I got excited and ended up writing waaaay too much so this will be separeted in two parts. This is part one, if you guys like it lemme know if you want part two, pls!!!

PART 2!!!!

WARNINGS: Talks about stalking, nearly death experince, violence, murderer, being socialy secluded, a lot of complicated feelings. This is part 1!

Words: 4,7k

Synopsis: It never crossed Roy's mind that his cute civilian ex would be knocking at his apartmant door asking for help. Jason never tought that he would've to help his boyfriend with his ex, but he is, especially because she might die if they don't help her out.

Things are not so great at the moment. And she knows it, that's why she stands in front of her ex boyfriend's apartment door, picking at her nails and looking everywhere but the door. She knows she shouldn't be looking for him, but in the situation that she finds herself, Roy may be the only person that can help her out. Rationality, she knows it's no biggie, showing up and asking for her ex boyfriend, who is a very known vigilante, to save her skin. However, emotionally, she knows it's fucked up.

Taking a deep breath, she knows it's a bad idea, but she reaches for the door and knocks. Taking a step back, y/n can feel her muscles starting to shake in a nervous fit.

It's been two years since she saw Roy for the last time, and she wonders how much has changed since then.

The door is open and y/n looks up, to find a tall brunette looking at her with an arched eyebrow. She smiles, trying to be polite. He doesn't smile back.

“Hi! Is this Roy Harper's apartment?” She asks, still picking at her nails and the man in front of her notices.

“Yes” he answers, his voice deep and intimidating and for the first time she knows for a fact that this is more than a bad idea, it's a terrible one. But then again, it's better than dying.

“Is he home?” The man crosses his big arms over his chest, taking in a more intimidating stance than before.

“Yes”

He is not the most polite ever, and it's starting to make y/n panic turn into frustration very quickly.

“Can I talk to him?” the man clicks his tongue, obviously not liking her request. Well, what can she do, a girl needs to try her shot.

“Who is at the door, love?” a familiar voice asks and now she understands. The huge guy in front of her is acting up in a jealous fit. Does he know who she is? Probably.

“Your ex” he says, and yeah, he knows who she is.

They can hear steps coming in the direction of the door and a very confused Roy shows up, wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants and his hair is longer, long enough to be put up in a man bun. Cute.

“Y/n?” He is pale and it seems like he just saw a ghost in front of him. She smiles and gives a tiny wave, not knowing how to act. When she decided to ask Roy for help, she knew that there was the chance for this to happen. A chance to find out about his new partner, a chance that he would look terrified, a chance that he would say no and let her die. Simple stuff.

“Hi, Roy” things are awkward, the three of them looking at each other like idiots.

“What are you doing here?” Roy seems offended that she ever had the guts to show up like this and honestly, she understands him and would deal with this situation in a more aggressive way if it was her in his place.

“I need your help” she can feel her cheeks burning and her heart rate increase, she feels the sting of a broken nail and her palms are sweating.

“With what?” Who asks the question is the brunette man, and y/n finally looks at him. He is wearing the same attire as Roy, paired up with a long sleeve black compression shirt, and she realizes how big he actually is. If he wanted to, he could throw her through the stairs of the building with ease. He is scary.

Instead of actually answering the brunette, she started rambling all of her thoughts to them, feeling her chest tight.

“I know you told me not to go, I know you said my brain would put me in danger one day and that my smart mouth would kill me and honestly I never believed you, but I fucked up. I fucked up real bad, Roy.” Desperation seeps through her voice, making her look ridiculous but the amount of panic in the woman in front of Roy only sparks his worry.

“What the fuck did you do?” He asks, taking her wrist and pulling her inside the apartment, practically throwing her in their living room.

“I stumbled across files I should have not stumbled across.” Roy Harper is not a man to worry, unless it's his daughter, Jason or Dinah. Or Y/n.

She was always one to worry about. Always too smart for her own good, always too clever to her own safety, always too curious. She found out way too easily his identity as Arsenal when they were dating. He knew that one day she would have a price over her head.

“What does that mean, y/n?” He is basically yelling at her now, frustrated that she doesn't give him the information he needs. She pouts, hating the fact that Roy is yelling at her.

“It means you were right, ok? I am too curious for my own good and now some rich people want me dead.”

Fuck it.

Jason didn't see this one coming, not even a thousand miles away. When he woke up this morning, sore from their last mission, he wouldn't have guessed that Roy's most recent ex and only civilian ex, would show up at their doorstep asking for Roy to save her skin from rich people.

Jason sighs, drawing the attention to him. He closes his eyes, hoping this is some weird dream, but when he opens them again, two pairs of eyes are staring at him. He thanks the gods that Lian is with Alfred.

“And how could Roy help you?” Jason asks, wondering what is going through this stranger woman's head.

“As Arsenal, obviously” she says, as if Jason is one dumb fucker, and he can't believe that this is happening.

“She knows?” Roy shrugs, as if saying ‘I have no control over that’.

“She found out when we were three months into the relationship” Jason looks at her again, shocked with this new piece of information. He knew they dated for over a year, and also knew how heartbroken Roy was when she left to live in Ireland because of a job opportunity. He didn't know she knew about Arsenal, though.

“It was actually quite easy to figure it out” she says, her eyes roaming over him, not in a ‘I am attracted to you’ way but in ‘who are you?’ type of way, and that made an uneasy feeling set in Jason's stomach.

“How?” He needs to know how she found out, how her brain works. Jason knows a lot of people, for fucks sake, he knows Tim and Tim found out Robin's identity at the age of nine, not many things shook him, but it's eight in the morning and this woman is definitely weird.

“I noticed they have the same scar on the left arm”

Jason's eyes bulge just a little and he looks at his boyfriend, who is looking at the floor, probably embarrassed with how easily a civilian found out his identity.

“I know” the read head says, clicking his tongue “she is a freak with that brain of hers”

It's y/n's turn to sigh, rolling her eyes. She looks at Jason again and says, very calmly.

“I knew I could say Roy is Arsenal near you because I firmly believe you already knew. Not because he told you, but because you are like him” the nervous and anxious girl from before is gone and she looks more confident and comfortable, and that uneasy feeling of having someone with a bigger brain than yours in the room comes back to Jason's stomach.

“And why's that?” Roy chuckles, and Jason looks at him with a quizzical look but the redhead says nothing, just smiles.

“You keep analyzing me, noticing every single move I make. For a guy your size you are very quiet and silent” she point out, numbering everything she says in her manicured fingers “Also, you keep reaching for your thigh, as if you keep looking for a gun in a holster” Y/n points to his hand, resting in his left thigh, and he wants to curse himself.

“I will make an educated guess and say you are Red Hood, the guy that is always with Arsenal” She says and smiles, tilting her head to the side, exposing her neck that has a hand imprint on it. “You are him, aren't you?”

Jason nods, not verbally answering her, but he knows there is no use lying since she knows about Roy's identity. What actually sparks his interest is the marks in her neck. She notices him looking and she once again hides her skin from them. Jason looks at Roy, to see if he saw the same as him, and his boyfriend's gaze is focused on y/n neck as well. There is more to this story than she is truly telling, and they know.

“She found out about Dinah in forty minutes in the same room as her.” Roy says, instead of saying something about the purple marks, walking to the kitchen to get a water bottle for himself.

Jason looks at her, doing exactly what she said he was doing before, but now he takes his time. Analyzing her. Meanwhile, she keeps an eye on Roy, who is not caring at all about the exchange behind him.

Roy turns around, holding his water bottle and looks at the two of them. He drinks all the water with a few gulps, feeling the cold water calm him down to the conversation he will soon have. He really wants to know who is the fucker that tried to choke her to death and left those marks on her smooth skin.

“Come with me” he says, pointing at a very shocked Jason and a very smug y/n to follow him.

The three of them get in a room decorated to be a study, Roy sits on a couch in the corner of the room and Jason sits next to him, his big arm going around Roy's shoulders.

“Explain yourself, pookie” Roy says and y/n takes a deep breath, collecting her thoughts to start explaining herself to the two vigilantes in front of her.

“It all started a few months ago when Campbell Enterprises, the place I worked at, developed a new project. One that was secretive and only a few would participate, the HR did a whole campaign to encourage us to participate in the selective process to choose the ones that would be a part of this new project. I was hoping I was not chosen, honestly, I was fine with the workload I already had at my lab at the time, but it was mandatory to participate” she pauses, taking a deep breath and looking at the window, watching the sun come through.

“They chose me and a few others to be a part of it, but it was all too secretive, even for us that were working on it. It was tiring, since my regular workload kept coming” she clicks her tongue and blinks, as if she was transported back to the moment that she is telling them about. “One night I stayed later than usual, it was just me in the laboratory, I was tired and annoyed with a few things so I started digging around, just so see if I could see the development of the others that I worked with.”

She blinks again, swallowing tears and looks at them. Roy and Jason are looking at her very attentively, waiting patiently for her to continue. There is no pressure, no tension in the room, just two men looking at her as if she was made of glass and that, for some reason, soothed the pain inside. Y/N is too used to not allowing herself to be fragile, but right now, with Jason and Roy, she feels that she can allow herself to be a little bit vulnerable.

“That's how I ended up coming across the real motivation of the project. They told us that we were developing a new medicine for kids with cancer, when in fact, we were developing a new drug so they could kidnap children and teenagers with more ease.” There is silence in the room and inevitably, they all thought about Lian, that is safely with Alfred, but she could not be, like many others are not.

“And they found out you came across those files and that's how you got five fingers in your neck?” Roy asks, arms crossed and a frown between his eyebrows, looking irritated.

“Not exactly” she says, her right hand going instinctively to her neck, gulping just to remember the touch of that man on her skin. “They found out I knew, but they didn't make it obvious. I knew they would find out eventually and come after me, but until then I thought I could keep living my life.”

Silence reigns the room, the three of them knowing she was just living an illusion until reality came knocking on her door.

“I went out on a date” she says, and that sparks even more their interest. Jason scoffs, not believing what he just heard.

“You knew you had a target on your back and you went on a date?” He asks sarcasm in every word that he says. She nods and Roy looks at her with disbelief in his green eyes.

“I was needy” she simply states, shrugging as if it was not a big of a deal, except it was. “He was a hitman”

Jason and Roy look at each other, not knowing how to actually react to her words. It all seems so out of this world, especially with the way she tells things, so calmly.

“We were kissing, he grabbed my neck and said that I was too curious, he had a good grip but I had a pocket knife” she is smiling and Jason knows for a fact now that she is crazy.

“So you stabbed him” Roy says, a smirk forming in the corner of his red lips. She nods.

“Didn't kill though, just enough to run away” she looks again at the window and takes a deep breath, “that's how I ended up in an airplane to Gotham. I called Dinah and asked where you lived, she told me you moved to Gotham, gave me your address and that's how I ended up here.”

She looks at them again and they can see in her eyes that she is lost. Desperate. In panic and disbelief of herself. What Jason can't see but Roy can is that Y/n truly believes she is going to die if they don't help her out.

Roy is not happy to have his ex, who broke his heart even if their break up was mutual and mature, standing in front of him. Roy is not happy that Dinah just gave information on him so easily. But he is less happy with the idea of y/n dying. No, he gets angry just with the idea of her not existing anymore.

And Jason may not know y/n, but he knows his boyfriend. He knows Roy just as well he knows himself and Jason can see it in the redhead's eyes that they will help her out, even if it fails, they will try their best. Jason can also see the care and admiration in Roy's eyes every time he looks at her, it's the same way Roy looks at him.

Jason will have to swallow his pride and jealousy, because he is going to help his boyfriend's ex to not die.

“We will help you” Roy says, looking at Jason for support and he finds everything he needs in his lover's eyes.

“But with a few conditions” Jason says, now looking at the younger woman. He knows she is younger than them, but now she truly looks like it. The sun is bathing her from her side, making her eyes shine and seem bigger, her lips are painted a glossy red and her cheekbones are chubby and pink. He can't deny, she is adorable and pretty.

“Anything” she says, her lips quivering just slightly. Jason smirks, he knows he is an asshole, but he also gets the job done.

“You will be staying at one of your monitored safe houses, and you won't leave the house, unless one of us is with you.” Roy nods, his gaze focused on her. The redhead forgot how beautiful she looks with her hair down and a turtleneck and he can't stop staring at her now that he noticed.

“We will make the groceries for you, just give a list. Also only burner phones and not social media” Roy says, and y/n was expecting nothing less than that. She is asking for them to keep her alive and she knows they will do it, even if it means keeping her away from society for a while.

“And we need all the information that you have” Jason finishes, reclining himself against the couch, relaxing his muscles.

Y/n stares. She was always curious and when she thinks something - or someone - is pretty, she stares. She didn't look at Jason until she did, and now that she sees what Roy sees, she can't stop looking.

They are both attractive men, she can't decide which she will take a look at longer, her brain working faster than normal to keep up with everything that she is thinking, from the information that they need to Jason's muscles and Roy's pretty lips.

She knows it's going to be a long ride with those two around her.

4 MONTHS LATER

It was comfortable to stay hidden from society while Roy and Jason were dealing with the issue she put herself in. It is comfortable to stay in and watch movies, read books and cook whatever she feels like cooking. It is comfortable not having to go out to do her own grocery shopping, since Jason did that for her in the last four months, and he never forgot anything from the list. It is comfortable to have them around all the time, it is comfortable to have Lian over on the weekends to play with dolls and paint ceramics with her.

However she knows it's not going to last any longer. Actually, all this comfortable scenario is over as she stares at Roy and listens to him talk.

“It’s all over, we fixed everything up, you can go back to living your life, pookie” he says, his green eyes shining with something she can’t quite comprehend, but she knows the feeling that is attached to her chest. He is sitting in a chair in front of her, only a table stopping Y/N to reach out and hug him until her heart stops growing with pain.

She got comfortable, she created an illusion for herself once again. They were there almost everyday, talking, making jokes and eating homemade food made by her, she even got to befriend Jason in the first month, just to develop feelings for him in the third. In the second month she already knew she still loved Roy with her whole soul, and seeing him so dedicated to see her safe again only intensified that.

She can’t explain, really, how she feels. She just knows its different but she loves them both. Roy is like a ray of sunshine that comes through the window, always warm and welcoming, always making her feel important and cared about. He was always good at making her feel like she is the only girl in the world, like she is actually important and easy to love. It's hard to let those feelings for him go, since she can’t get enough of his smile, his green eyes and his stupid jokes. She thinks that deep down, she never stopped loving him. It was like coming home from a long trip, the feeling of having Roy around again was that. His hugs became frequent again and she thinks she can’t let him go, the warmth and the intimacy are just too good and keeps her sane in the difficult days.

Jason was a surprise. Y/N never thought it was possible to love two people at the same time and in the same intensity, but so differently from each other. At first, she thought she was going crazy with guilt because she still loves Roy, and Jason is his boyfriend. But then, slowly, she realized she fell for him just as hard as she had fallen for Roy. Jason is attentive, caring and even though he is more introverted, he understands her on a deep level. He knows when she is upset before she even acknowledges herself, he always has a good book recommendation and he always helped her in the kitchen when he could. Lian loves him and he is good with kids just as much as Roy is. He is calm and collected and somehow, he soothes her mind.

She loves them.

But she is sure they don’t love her back.

“Really?” she questions it, not believing that she can once again live in society without risking herself.

“Yes” Jason says, he is behind Roy, his arms crossed and he doesn't look at her for longer than what's enough.

“Everything is clean, then?” She questions it once again, fear creeping inside her head, telling that they couldn’t do anything and that she will die if she leaves their embrace.

“Yes, pookie, everything is clean” Y/N nods, pressing her lips together and looking away from them, not knowing how to actually feel. She is happy that she is once again safe, that she can walk around without risking being murdered, that she can talk longer to her parents. But she can feel that pain in her chest, the one telling her this is the last time she will ever talk to them, see them and feel their presence. She is free to go anywhere, but the only place that she wants is not available for her.

While she sits in sorrow, she doesn’t realize that both men are devastated as well as she is. Roy knew it was possible to love two people at the same time, to want to be romantically with two people at the same time, but it never crossed his mind that he would be living this feeling so intensely. He loves Jason with his soul, he would die for his boyfriend and kill just anyone Jason asked him to kill. But he can’t deny that he also loves Y/N, she is everything he could possibly want and not deserving to have. Her smile, her scent, her eyes, her lips, her body, her hair, everything in her was an invitation to his heart. Roy loves her with his heart, he would do anything for her too, he just did. He killed for her last night just to be sure she would be fine. He doesn’t want to let go, but if that's what she wants, he will do it.

Jason was always skeptical about feelings until he fell for Roy, and he fell hard. He loves Roy more than he could ever be possible, he would take Roy in his worst days just as much as he would take Roy in his good days, and he would go against the world to see his boyfriend happy and calm. Jason stopped drug dealing because he thought it was disrespectful with Roy since he is clean and healthy after a long period of darkness. He takes care of all the things Roy doesn’t want to and he is nice to people that once hurt him because he wants to be good for his boyfriend and to Lian. It never occurred to him that he could possibly fall for Y/N during this time working for her safety. But he did. And it was embarrassing. He could not look at her longer than a few minutes or his mind would drift to scenarios they would never live, and then he would feel guilt eating him up. Jason was going crazy over his feelings for this woman, she was diabolical with the way she made him feel. The way she would make him blush with a brush of fingers while cooking, the way she would make his chest warm with happiness when she smiled at him and the way she would make him feel euphoric when she complimented something about him. She was diabolical, and that's why in the last month he told Roy about his feelings.

Jason remembers how long the talk was, and he was not shocked to know that Roy still loves her and he truly understands the readhad, it's easy to love Y/N. Her ramblings about things she likes, the way she walks on the tip of her toes when happy, the way her hair falls over her eyes when she is focused. Jason feels like he is not some monster around her, she makes him feel light and makes him forget about all the vigilante stuff, he feels normal around her and good, he feels good. She makes it seem it's easy to be around him.

They agreed to let her go if it was truly what she wanted, but if she decided to stay, they already talked about asking her out on a date, with both of them. If she didn’t want them both, they agreed that they would move on. It was the three of them together or nothing.

“What are you going to do now?” Roy asks, voice hoarse trying to keep the tears away. The young woman shrugs, her gaze on the wall next to her, deep in thoughts Roy couldn’t imagine what is about.

“A penny for your thoughts, sweets” Jason says, once again looking at her, he can feel the dread polling at his stomach and he just wants to hold her until she gets tired of him and Roy.

“Thinking about my mom and my dad” she says, finally looking at them with tears stuck in her bottom lashes, making her look like a crying angel in the dim light of the kitchen.

“Are you going to stay with them until you find another job?” the redhead questions, his fingers tapping lightly at the table, a clear sign of anxiety.

“Yeah, I think I will,” she says softly, her shoulders drooping and her head falling, somehow hiding her face from the vigilantes in front of her.

“Nice” Jason says, his voice thick with something not even him can say what it is, but he knows it’s not a good feeling. He feels like he is losing her without trying to actually have her in the first place. “They must miss you”

“They do,” she answers Jason quickly, trying to stop the conversation in its tracks, but it looks like he won’t bite the bullet.

“Where do they live, again?” the brunette asks, not wanting to stop because if they stop talking he won’t be listening to her voice.

“New York City”

Jason clicks his tongue not knowing what to say anymore so he looks at Roy, expecting to see the redhead formulating a plan to keep her around longer, but there is only acceptance in this eyes and Jason knows he lost the battle, he knows she would be leaving soon to NYC and if he tries to stop her, Roy wouldn’t help. Not because he doesn’t love her, but because he isn’t the type to hold people where they don’t want to be.

Roy gets up and smiles fondly at Y/N, hiding his true feelings behind a mask. “If you need anything, just call us.”

She smiles, a tiny one, and nods again understanding that she is not wanted around when in fact what they wanted more is for her to stay with them.

“See you around, boys” she says, leaving for the bedroom that will no longer be hers in the morning.

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llamagoddessofficial · 6 months

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who's the most possessive out of the bad guys?

It's a bit complicated. They're all possessive, in their own ✨special✨ ways. Because they're special boys.

Horror is possessive like a wild animal. He hates anything that looks like it could hurt you, that makes you nervous, that approaches too fast. It's all or nothing with him; he can be the most ferociously violent and unpredictable of the four, especially considering he has a penchant for decapitation. But he can equally be the most easygoing when he's decided something isn't a threat. He's possessive with his claws and teeth, possessive over your scent and softest parts... though he likes that his hands can encircle your waist entirely, it also makes him scared to let go. He's the bigger and stronger mate, he needs to protect you from the rest of the world. He needs to keep you safe from the things that could kill you quickly. Like him.

Dust is possessive like someone who has lost everything. He found something good after what he did, despite all odds, and he will not lose you. You're so wonderful - he doesn't say it aloud but he truly believes that once you wake up and realise your boyfriend is just a pathetic mass murderer who can't emote, you'll leave. So he's always possessive, under the surface, always jealous and murderous, especially toward anyone he thinks you're starting to get 'too' close with. It's a fire that never goes out. If you're not in his arms, he's watching, quietly burning.

He hides it extremely well. Just like his other emotions. But it's always there - waiting for him to snap, and use it.

Killer is possessive like a child. A child who can (and will) stab people to death. So long as he believes he's your favourite, things will be fine, but he cannot stand someone taking up your attention for too long. Look at him, look at him, look at him - if he can draw your eyes back to him he'll quickly relax, the fastest way to keep him from hurting anyone is by laughing at something he's said. But if someone keeps insisting on getting in the way and monopolising you, he lashes out wildly. Killer's sense of right and wrong is massively fucked up... it's easy to see how little empathy he has for those he doesn't care about when he puts a knife in someone's gut for snapping their fingers at you while he's talking to you.

Nightmare is possessive like a lover. He's pretty tolerant of most things; very close friends are fine, time apart is fine, he doesn't mind. You can do pretty much as you please, so long as you return to his bed at the end of the night. The one thing he absolutely will not tolerate? Romantic rivals. Contenders for your love will die. If someone likes you, and tries to pursue you even slightly, they meet a gruesome end. If you beg on their behalf he might settle on just banishing them to a distant universe... but you probably won't get to them in time. Nightmare, if it wasn't obvious, has a big problem with being "number 2" in anything. And when it comes to your heart, he won't give up a single inch.

Deep down, he just wants you to hold him close and reassure him that you won't leave like everyone else in his life has. But he's much too proud to admit that. So he settles on murdering anyone who could somehow, someday, get in the way.

Prune the tree when it's a sprout and you'll never have to deal with the roots.

#llamagines #bad sanses

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naomikozura · 2 months

Text

Love of My Life: Part 1

Heian Era! Sukuna Ryomen x Sorcerer!Fem!Reader

A/N: Although the first part of this story only mentions the ending of the story, this will be a MULTIPLE part story. The first part does not contain as heavy content but OTHER PARTS WILL. ALL parts are dark themes and have heavy topics. The second part of this story will contain more DARK THEMES and is a work of FICTION. I will post the exact warnings and details when the second part gets published but this is your warning for what to expect. Again it is a DARK THEME story so 18+ ONLY MDNI

Warnings: strong language, violence, mention of mass murder, angst, generational trauma, complicated family dynamics, family abuse, murder, motional turmoil and abuse, manipulation, sadistic tendencies (slight), corruption of power, dark themes (slight)

WC: 8.6K

Summary: The story of the infamous King of Curses has been around for hundreds of years, proving him to be the most feared sorcerer in the entire jujutsu realm. But the truth of what happened that led to the ultimate annihilation of his humanity has been concealed, almost erased. There was a time back in the Heian era when Ryomen Sukuna did have a shred of humanity left… but the loss of it resulted in the creation of the destructive monster he would later become.

Series Masterlist

Prologue || Part 2

Heian Era, 6 Months Before the Burning of Aurora

“Again”

“Again.”

“Again!”

The deep rumble that came from your father led you to the brink, pushing you further into a pit of exhaustion. You’d already been out here for 8 hours, your father’s relentlessness wearing you down but by bit.

“Y/n! I need you to focus!”, he yelled.

You knew your father was level-headed, smart, but since your birth he’d done nothing but train you to be strong and gifted when it came to your ability. Your clan relied on you just like every heir before you, to bring your family honor and grace. You had spent the better years of your adolescence learning about the history of your bloodline, the history of jujutsu, and learning basic technique but now as an adult there was more room for you to be pushed to the brink to train for your special ability.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today.”, your father walked over to you, your arm swiping the sweat off your forehead. “Get home and into a bath, we have dinner with the Zen’in clan tonight.”

A pang of hurt spread through your chest. Among all the training, all the history lessons, all your talent and power, your life was still forced into the hands of your father. You hadn’t only spent the better years of your adolescence learning about jujutsu and your technique, but also the fundamentals of what it meant to be a bride. You knew it was traditionally passed through generations for two families to join together through marriage but a part of you still felt hurt that your father had lined up 3 suitors for your hand. Never once considering your own feelings on the matter.

The Zen’in clan was just one of the three families who produced male heirs around the time you were born. Almost like it was predetermined, the arrangement for your betrothal to one of the main family’s sons was set in stone for you the day your mother held you for the first time. You hated the idea that your life wouldn’t be your own if you married into any of the Three Families, but you knew your duty deep down even into the marrow of your bones.

Once you’d arrived home you soaked in the bath, the maids helped you wash your body of the dirt and grime and helped wash your hair as they massaged a cleansing type of gel into it. You felt the tension in your muscles dissipate with each pass of the sponge and each massage they did in your hair.

Getting dressed for these types of occasions was tiring, feeling the pull of your hair being done in an elegant manner to showcase the beauty of your natural features, your complexion barely needed any powder to make it more presentable. You were beautiful, every sorcerer within the lands knew you were the most coveted and eligible bride due to your family bloodline, your ability, and your beauty. Unfortunately for many, your life was already selected to be given away within the families, not outside of them.

You pulled on your traditional gown, wearing your family's seal colors as you put on a red headpiece that brought out your features beautifully. Red adorned your family home, your sigil painting in the bright crimson to signify strength, sacrifice, protection, and hope. You always felt proud to wear the seal colors yet you couldn’t help but feel like there was no hope for you.

Your family sat in the common area, the Zen’in members sitting properly around the table while the heads talked amongst themselves. You looked over at the eldest son, his dark hair and deep brown eyes striking as he looked at you. He was handsome no doubt, probably a suitable husband but you couldn’t bring yourself to envision a future with him. Despite your wishes, you’d probably marry into the Zen’in family. It was the most logical, beneficial and strategic marriage that your father would have picked for you.

The dinner was simple, quick, a formality to get you and the Zen’in son, Zetsubou Zen’in, introduced. You knew who he was, but never met him in person until now. He was charming, smart, powerful but there was a darkness to him. Something he hid all too well, you wondered if his family knew about his dark tendencies that he kept hidden from the rest of his clan. You knew a marriage to him would be selling your life away, you’d be a shell of a human being with him. He would only bring you hate and despair.

Once the night had ended and you started to unwind, you fell onto your bed and stared at the ceiling, taking in the moonlight that bled through the cracks before turning and looking out the window at all the stars that illuminated the village. Where could the endless reach of the sky take you? Would you go far enough away that you disappear and never come back?

You didn't let your mind wander too much before you fell into a slumber, your mind numbing from the evening's events.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Another village raid.” you heard your father’s voice ring out of his meeting room. You had a bad habit of eavesdropping on his meetings, but you knew he’d keep you sheltered from the jujutsu world until you mastered your domain. You knew it wasn’t protective but strategic. Keep you out of the way until you are strong enough to master your domain and keep low risk of his heir dying.

“He killed every single person there, tortured them, stole the energy they possessed. He’s getting stronger with each village he destroys.”, a second voice spoke out, a third muttering in agreement and the fourth person silent as he slammed his drink on the table.

The Four Families rarely met unless it was important, though with the jujutsu realm slowly establishing itself, every meeting was important.

“We need to get our men, the strongest to train and immobilize him otherwise he’ll only continue to get stronger and more power hungry.”, you recognized the Zen’in clan’s leader, his voice prominent due to the countless visits him, his wife, and son had made to your home in the past few weeks. You and Zetsubou were both being groomed to be each other's marital partner, regardless of how much you wish you weren’t.

“I have 20 men who have been training, many of them have sons who are also starting to get their cursed energy under control and starting with the warriors in the coming weeks. We can expedite that training and have them ready in a month's time.”

“The Kamo clan also have a number of men that are willing to fight for the cause. This is the fifth raid in a month, it seems they’re getting more frequent. How much longer until he targets our territories and steals our energies?”, the Kamo clan leader spoke up, his voice much softer than the rest but held his resolve. “We must act as soon as we can”

“Agreed. Until then, we must keep the heirs focused and trained, we can’t have any loose ends”.

He meant you.

You always knew they meant you. From the beginning theyd always second guessed your ability, you were the first woman to inherit your family’s special technique so they had obvious doubts. You’d grown powerful in your ability over the past few years but the one thing you still couldn’t do was create a domain, something the other three heirs had already mastered a year ago.

You left then, heading to the stables in order to prepare for your training this morning. You slid the door open, making your way down to the final stall and seeing your white, brown eyed mare. She was beautiful, a gift from the Zen’in clan as an interest for your hand in marriage.

You tan a hand over her soft coat, the shine illuminated under the morning sun. It wasn’t too late, only an hour or two before midday so you knew she was well fed and hydrated thanks to the stable hands.

Strapping in the saddle on your mare, you ensured you had everything you needed to go into the open fields. They were several miles away and consisted of open fields perfect for training. You really wanted to indulge in your ability, bring yourself to the fullest potential so you went out to the fields to train often. Your father often hated when you would go alone but you’ve managed to convince him that solo practice was important in order to gain control of your ability. Eventually after much consideration and eagerness, he agreed to let you go on your own. You finished packing your food and water for the day, knowing that most of your sessions often lasted the entire morning and led into the evening, and set out early in order to start your training.

You rode through the forest in silence, letting the sound of the animals in the birds around you fill in the empty space, giving you a sense of serenity, knowing that everything was at peace. We often wondered how much it would take to be as free as the birds who flew the skies or the deer grazed in the fields. You thought much of what it would be like to leave, but your path would never allow you to get away from what was set in stone.

Once you arrive at the training grounds, you let your horses graze in the woods, off in the shaded area while tied to a tree with a long rope to ensure it wouldn’t wander off.

You focused, closing your eyes and feeling the wind around you, your body using every one of its senses to connect to the earth and energy within you. You let yourself feel the wind and taste the freshness of the air, the humidity and feeling of water still present from the storm a few days ago. You listened to every chirping bird and snapping branch from the small creatures in the woods, the smell of fresh dew on the grass bringing you to a calming place and filling you with ease.

You channeled the energy into your hands, the small iridescent light glowing as it grew bigger and stronger. Your eyes remained closed as you focused on getting the technique just right. You wanted to show you could master your inherited technique, that your potential wasn’t going to be wasted on a stupid marriage.

You were still the daughter of the L/n Clan and the heir to the familial bloodline. You were more than just someone to be married for political gain.

You swirled the energy in your hands, growing it with each passing second before it reached its brim yet you forced it to get bigger to expand your capacity.

The wind moved around you and started to swirl into the ball of cursed energy you manifested, pushing yourself before you released and let the energy target some of the trees, exploding on impact and causing a ripple effect that made the birds fly out of the trees and some of the animals run away.

You let out a shaky breath before repeating the steps, this time trying to focus on using your technique on the cursed dummy you had in front of you. You’d often get other sorcerers to cast cursed energy into props in order to help practice your Aurora, each time more precise than the last.

You closed your eyes, blinking them slowly as they glowed in a bright, iridescent green color, focusing all your energy on the prop. You raised a hand to manipulate the individual building blocks, watching as the prop contorted and turning into a deformed figure before a screech released from the inside. It was a cursed spirit inside the prop screaming for mercy. You narrowed your eyes and continued to rip apart the existence of the cursed spirit, pulling its atoms apart piece by piece as the screams intensified before they stopped completely due to the implosion of its figure.

You let out a breath, wiping the sweat off your forehead before starting from square one. You continued for hours, using more of the cursed objects and using them to strengthen your ability.

Once evening arrived, you packed everything, walking to the mare and swinging your leg over her back and shifted to get comfortable. As you were getting ready to leave you heard a crack in the woods, but this time the energy felt different. Your head turned to look at the opposing side of the woods, narrowing your eyes and trying to feel if there were any cursed spirits out. Confused, you turned, nudging your mare towards the direction of L/n House.

The unknown energy slowly growing after you’d left the field.

You had spent the next few days training out in the field, slowly growing in your strength and technique as each session passed. Your father was still weary of your being alone in the fields but with everyday passing and you coming home safely, he began to trust your routine. You still followed a training regiment with him every other day and did your history studies on the weekends. You were all around intelligent, strong, gifted, and resilient.

You pushed yourself back, dodging the hit from the cursed dummy you had made to pose as a fighter with you. It wasn’t strong but it wasn’t weak. A good mid tier practice dummy to help build your endurance. The dummy charged at you as you jumped over it, spinning your body in a flawless way that made you seem like the village dancers during any major celebration.

In the final blow, you swung your foot around, kicking it perfectly in the head before pushing your hand forward, knocking it down before using your ability to disfigure the dumb thing and make it implode in itself, the shrill of pain ringing out before it fell silent. It felt no real pain. Your father said listening to their cries often helped take away their effect. it was the way your enemies guilt tripped sorcerers into submitting to empathy. You knew when you needed to be empathetic and needed to be heartless, even if you didn’t like it.

The sound of snapping made you turn, your hair sticking to your forehead as you met the dark gaze of crimson eyes. You felt your chest jump slightly in surprise but quickly relaxed once you’d let yourself calm with the wind.

Your hair was tied in a high ponytail, your skin glossy from the evening sun as you trained in the field in the outskirts of your home. You looked him over, taking in his menacing appearance which, for you, had no effect in the way you saw him. His skin was tan with dark marks embedded into his skin, the tattoos moving in a swirl of different directions but added to his edge. He wore a robe that showed his muscular chest, his hair messy and weighed down by his sweat. There was no question that the strongest sorcerer would be huge in comparison to the daughter of one of the Four Clan’s leaders, yet the size difference still gave him a swirl of emotion.

You looked at him in a way he hadn’t been looked at before. Your eyes staring at him, almost like calculating his every move as he slowly walked towards you. Ryomen hid the shock in his body when he reached you, pushing down his need to physically express his taken aback reaction. Many people in the world would be in shock, fear, buckle under the weight of his possessive hold over any room or space he occupied. Many people bowed at his feet, begged for mercy from his ruthlessness, he was feared. The story people told their children to keep them well mannered.

And yet, you stood a foot away from him and met his gaze in relaxed confidence. Your eyes held curiosity, not fear. Your body was laid back, not shaking or trembling at his presence. You didn’t buckle at the overwhelming pull of his presence instead you embraced it and met him with your own confidence. You were secure in yourself enough that you held no fear towards him.

His eyes scanned your features, taking in every inch of you in your mutual silence. Your eyes were bright, with the sun making them dark, he could see how they lit up with curiosity and wonder. Your lips and nose were perfectly fitted to your face, making the balance of your features appear more heavenly than anything. It made you attractive, beautiful to everyone who came in contact with you. Your (h/c) hair complemented the tone of your skin and left him wanting to run his fingers through it. He recoiled internally at the thought. When would he ever think such a way towards someone lesser than him?

Were you lesser than him?

He stared at you in observation, an overwhelming sense consuming him. He could kill you easily, snap your neck and make your death seem like one of the families did it and start an all out war. You were so fragile despite your toned body from the obvious years of training. He could just reach over and make you implode from just one touch.

So why didn’t he?

In this moment, against all his beliefs, he considered you his equal. He never considered anyone even remotely close to his realm of power and yet you existed. You showed no fear, you felt secure in yourself, and even being face to face with a morally flawed man, you looked at him with gentle eyes.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, the silence falling over the both of you in a comforting blanket.

In that moment he knew you held power over him, especially when you broke the silence first.

“Is there something you need?”, your voice was soft, relaxed. Had you been anyone else, someone questioning his being in any location would have annoyed him but you asked in such a way that left him soaking in the echoes of your words.

“I’m just passing by.”, he replied, wondering when did he ever answer anyone else’s questions when they’d ask?

“Oh, I hope my training doesn’t stop you from getting where you need to be.”

His curiosity overcame him, making him wonder more about your family. He knew about the L/n clan's heir, young and beautiful, strong and intelligent, soft and gentle. It made her the perfect face for their house and a suitable bride. He’d heard of the Gojo, Zenin, and Kamo clans grooming their first sons to be suitable men to ask for her hand in marriage.

A piece of him churned with an irritation at the thought of you being primed and groomed into marrying someone in an arranged marriage.

“Not at all.”, he replied, his deep voice ringing in your ears. You've heard a lot of Ryomen Sukuna. Your clan elders mention his lack of empathy, his overwhelming power and how he easily could reach an unbeatable level of cursed energy that would make anyone think twice about crossing his path. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to think of him as scary or evil. There was curiosity in the way he held himself and how he had yet to retaliate against your question when everyone knew he hated being questioned.

“You’re far from your clan lands”, he said flatly, his eyes focused on your form.

“I can use my full potential here.”, you blinked. “It’s hard to push myself to the brink if I don’t have open space. At least here I can unleash everything and learn from my mistakes”, you clenched your hand, looking at the small burst of energy in your hand.

The silence filled the air, once again leaving you in a strange tension you couldn’t quite place. His eyes stayed focused on you before he began to walk past you. His silence leaving you confused, unsure of why stop to talk to you then leave without another word. Then again, he wasn’t going to extend himself to something so minuscule, so mundane.

He was far above that.

Far above you.

“Help me.”, you spoke, watching as he stopped in his tracks.

What were you doing? Requesting someone like him to help someone as insignificant as you.

You’d heard the stories, been told the horrors of his actions and wrath. Ryomen Sukuna was a selfish, greedy, immoral and sadistic man, he brought any competent sorcerer to their knees by simply occupying the space. He believed himself above absolutely everyone in every way and you knew that undeniable truth. You were risking your life speaking to him like he owed you something, asking for help from the devil was brainless even for you.

He stared at you in indifference, taken by your confidence yet he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by it. A part of him was intrigued by you, even though he hated helping others, he wasn’t necessarily a charitable man. No, he was far from it. The complete opposite of it in fact. He should blow your head off, snap your neck, make you kneel and beg for your life.

Yet, he indulged.

Just this once.

You watched as he removed his robe, leaving him in a loose fitting shirt that showed his arms perfectly. They were muscular and defined, wielding such power that could easily kill someone in one touch. You wondered if he’d killed anyone with his bare hands without his abilities or cursed energy before.

The small flicker of energy that manifested in his hand caught your attention, the manifestation growing in size at an alarming rate but took no toll on his psyche. The years of being gifted with such power and training laid off for him, though you knew he’d always been powerful in his own right.

You watched intently, observing the cursed energy in his hand as you tried to copy the leisure in which he created his. The creation of energy was easy, it was making it compact with force that was difficult for you. You had great mental resilience and capacity for difficult challenges, yet when it came to finding the switch that could make your power compact you struggled slightly.

In every other sense of your ability and cursed energy, you were gifted, it was creating a domain where you lacked. The long days and tumultuous nights of training and reading through scribed records only helped you make sense of a partial reason why you couldn’t manifest a domain, you just needed to actually focus on executing it flawlessly.

“Domain Expansions aren’t easy to manifest.”, you narrowed your eyes slightly at his comment. Why was he trying to dumb it down for you when you knew he was known for manifesting energy at record breaking levels.

“They’re easy enough for you.”, you muttered as his eyes slowly moved to look at you.

“Do you want my help or not?”

“Right”, you focused on his words, listening to the instruction he gave, slowly manifesting the energy into your palms.

He watched as you focused, eyes closed as you concentrated on his voice. It was interesting. Seeing as your energy formed in your hands, wondering how you had inherited such a powerful technique and you still struggled with your domain. He couldn’t help wondering why. It was difficult for most sorcerers to manifest a complete domain, but someone with an inherited ability like Eye of Aurora should have some level of giftedness that would allow you to start creating one. He watched your jaw clench as the energy dispersed in your hand, evaporating into nothing.

You released a defeated sigh, letting your shoulders droop as you opened your eyes and staring at the ground in a defeated glare.

“I don’t get it.”, you breathed. “I have this… special ability, a technique that so many sorcerers wish they could use and I can’t even create a damned domain.”

“You’re holding back”, his voice rumbled in his throat, the deep tone sending chills down your spine. Not of fear but of something unknown to you, a sensation that left your heart beating a bit faster than normal.

“Okay”, you muttered. “So show me how to not hold back”

The temperature around you slowly grew, watching as he released an immense amount of energy, causing the trees in front of him to fall from the attack. Your eyes widened at the gaping emptiness he had just created.

Woah.

You let out a shaky breath as you stared at him in a way you could only describe as a mix of shock and awe. The adrenaline burst through you as you channeled your energy, creating a mass in your hands before releasing it, causing a number of trees to fall from the impact. It wasn’t near the caliber of his release but it was still a good conjuring of cursed energy. You knew you’d never reach his level of power, but you felt proud that you could release something at that caliber.

“Let go of that fear of being too unhinged. It’s what holds you back from mastering your domain.”, his voice was deep, your eyes glowing with pride as you felt the after effects of his release. “You can’t master your domain if you care too much about being perfect.”

“I’m not you.”, you answered.

“No one will ever be me.”, you rolled your eyes. You knew that, but you still wanted his help anyway.

A small part of him grew irritated with your slight attitude at his words, but another part found it humorous. It wasn’t very often that a sorcerer at your level could make him find anything humorous. He cared very little, not at all actually, about something as irrelevant as humor or wittiness but coming from you, it made him think he could possibly entertain you for the time being.

He wondered where you got such confidence to not only speak to him freely, but to assume he’d be willing to help you despite his power that was worlds above yours. It wasn’t often there were many humans or sorcerers who didn’t bow to his feet immediately after he became present. He was used to seeing people beg for mercy, used to the people who cried hysterically for him to spare them. He enjoyed the mental torture of never giving away if someone would be spared or not.

So, when you called after him so boldly, against all logic, it intrigued him. He hasn’t been intrigued in a long time, not by a sorcerer in any way especially because he knew he was far above them in every regard. Though he still indulged in your boldness, your lack of fear, by the motivation in your eyes and the drive in your stance.

Before he could even stop himself, he made contact to engage and he believed it to be his biggest mistake. He should have never let you reel him in, never should have let you make him give his time when it was valuable, never should have found you worth the effort.

Then when he didn’t think he could find anything more appealing about you, you smiled at him. It was a warm, full smile. How could you give him a warm welcome when he’s done nothing deserving of it?

“Thanks for the help.”, you laughed, almost in disbelief. “I have to go.”

He watched as you walked over to the mare grazing in the woods, removing the rope from the tree and petting her nose gently. He wondered then how you showed him the same gentleness as the creatures you cared for. His eyes darted away from you, letting himself sit with the realization that you didn’t see him as some godforsaken being.

“Come back tomorrow.”, he called as your head swiveled towards him, your bright eyes meeting his dark ones. “Before the sun reaches its peak.”

With that he turned, leaving you in shock at his demand.

The next day, you did as he had asked, you showed back up to the field ready to train with him. You sat in the grass watching your mare eat while you waited for him. It wasn’t too hot yet but again, it was too early for it to even be warm.

The sound of cracking branches sounded behind you, making you turn slowly as you watched Sukuna’s form emerge from the trees. He stood tall in all his glory, wearing clothes that hung off his body in a way that almost made your face heat up. Even in his dark aura and the intensity of his energy, you couldn’t deny that Ryomen Sukuna was also an attractive man. If your father could hear the thoughts you were having, he’d surely punish you with more physical training.

“Good morning.”, you said softly, his deep red eyes meeting yours but not saying anything as he walked closer to you. You either were too naive for your own good, or you genuinely didn’t realize just how out of turn you were being. Sukuna was known for not liking when people spoke to him out of turn, he hated small talk. He believed it to be useless, a waste of time, and of no benefit. You didn’t need to start with pleasantries but you did so anyway.

“Show me your energy.”, he spoke deeply, his eyes boring into yours as you snapped to attention. You needed to focus, needed to take the most of this time while you could. Sukuna never offered any time of his to a regular person, let alone sorcerers beneath him, this was the only chance you had to gain real insight on how to create strong energy and create your domain.

You manifested a ball of energy into your hands, its vibrant glow pulsing with your heartbeat. The energy crackled and shifted, reflecting your concentration and intent. Sukuna's gaze remained intense, unblinking, as he observed your creation with a mixture of interest and impatience.

"Is this all you can muster?" His voice was a low growl, almost mocking. "You think that will impress me?"

You felt a surge of determination, pushing deeper into your focus. The ball of energy began to expand, growing larger and more intense. You could feel the strain as you struggled to maintain control, your palms growing warm as the energy surged.

"Energy is more than just a display," Sukuna said, his tone suddenly softer, almost contemplative. "It’s about precision, purpose. Show me not just what you can create, but how well you can wield it."

You tightened your grip, trying to focus. The energy swirled and shifted, forming intricate patterns that mirrored your intent. The ball began to take shape, its structure becoming more complex, more refined. You could almost feel the boundaries of your energy beginning to take form, the energy coalescing into a stronger, more cohesive entity.

Sukuna’s eyes flickered with something akin to approval, though his expression remained impassive. "Better. But don’t think for a moment that you’ve reached the limit of what you can achieve. This is merely the beginning."

He moved towards you, his energy radiating off of him as you felt him consume yours, his body close as he looked at you. The obvious height difference made it seem like he was pitying you, but he seemed more interested in helping than anything else. His head lowered, meeting your eye line as he looked straight ahead, looking at the trees ahead of you.

You took a deep breath, feeling the pressure of Sukuna’s proximity. His face was so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath, mingling with the charged air around you. The energy you had summoned pulsed violently in response to the tension, making you sweat and your heart race.

Sukuna’s eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity. “Let the energy reflect your resolve,” he demanded, his voice a commanding rumble.

You focused on the ball of energy, feeling its weight and power. The intensity of Sukuna’s presence only made it harder to concentrate, as if the very air around you was charged with his overwhelming aura. You grit your teeth as you tried to calm your heart rate down, focusing on keeping the energy stable as you manifested it into something bigger.

“Are you letting your concentration waver?” Sukuna’s voice was almost a whisper now, his breath hot against your cheek. “You think you can achieve mastery with such weakness?”

Your fingers ached as you fought to maintain control. The ball of energy fluctuated, its glow flickering with your wavering focus. Sukuna’s proximity made it even harder to maintain your composure; the heat radiating from his presence was almost unbearable.

“Feel the energy,” he instructed, his tone full of challenge. “Channel your emotions, your fear, your determination. Let it all flow into your control.”

The heat from the energy was now almost unbearable, merging with the heat of Sukuna’s presence. Your hands were on fire, and the energy sphere seemed to pulse with a life of its own. With every breath you took, the tension grew, making your entire body quiver.

“You can do better,” Sukuna said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “But you must push through the discomfort. It’s not just about controlling the energy—it’s about mastering your own limits.”

Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, but you forced yourself to focus. The energy within your hands began to stabilize, the chaotic flickers giving way to a steady, powerful glow. The sphere grew larger, its form more defined, as you channeled every ounce of your willpower into it.

Sukuna’s face remained close, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re almost there,” he said deeply. “Show me that you’re more than just a fleeting display of power.”

The strain was immense, but you felt a surge of determination. With one final push, you stabilized the energy, making it surge with newfound strength and clarity. The heat from both the energy and Sukuna’s presence reached a peak before slowly subsiding, leaving you gasping but triumphant.

Sukuna stepped back, his gaze finally breaking from yours. “Not bad,” he conceded, a smirk playing on his lips.

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on you with a cool, detached scrutiny. The intensity of his presence remained, but his demeanor was notably indifferent. The air between you was charged, the energy still crackling faintly as it dissipated, but Sukuna’s expression betrayed little of the effort you’d put forth.

“It’s enough for tonight,” Sukuna said flatly, his voice carrying an authoritative finality. He took a step back and broke the close proximity though his presence still loomed large. His tone was almost dismissive, as if your efforts were merely a minor inconvenience to him. “You’ve put in your time. Come back tomorrow if you think you can do better.”

You exhaled slowly, your body trembling slightly from the exertion and the intense atmosphere. The heat that had enveloped you gradually cooled, leaving a satisfying ache in its wake. The weight of his indifference stung more than any overt criticism. You felt a pang of frustration mixed with weariness. Despite the effort you’d expended, Sukuna’s gaze remained aloof, as if your struggle was inconsequential.

You nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and anticipation. “I’ll be here,” you said, your voice steady despite the exhaustion.

Sukuna merely inclined his head in acknowledgment, his face expressionless. “Good,” he replied. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps echoing with a finality that left little room for interpretation. As he walked away, his imposing figure gradually disappearing into the shadows, you remained in place for a moment longer, your thoughts racing.

You stood there for a moment, the weight of his detached dismissal settling over you. The path ahead was clear, but it felt colder and more daunting in the face of Sukuna’s lack of concern. Still, you gathered your resolve and made your way out, determined to return and prove yourself despite his apparent lack of interest.With a final glance at the space where Sukuna had been, you turned and made your way out of the training grounds, the weight of his words and the promise of future trials hanging heavily in the air.

Tomorrow, you would return, ready to push your limits once again.

Two weeks later

You went out into the woods, riding your mare as you tried to reach the field for your training with Sukuna. He’d helped you the past few weeks, showing you how to manifest your energy and create your domain. You’d been close to creating a full domain several times, he said you just needed to not hold back. You both figured out the reason you couldn’t create a domain was because a subconscious part of you made you hesitate, you wouldn’t allow yourself to reach your full potential. He’d slowly been showing you to let go and embrace your cursed energy fully.

You hummed as you made your way down the small hill on the embedded path that led to the other side of the woods. Almost like a shot to the chest, you felt a chill run down your spine, an immense amount of cursed energy being aimed at you. Before you could react, you felt the sheer force collide into you and your mare, the loud groan escaping her as she collided with a tree. You were thrown completely off, your body slamming into the boulders on the ground, the feeling of blood running down the side of your head making you queasy. Your vision blurred slightly, you were disoriented.

What the hell?

You saw the grueling sight of a disfigured wolf, its body three times the size of a normal one and it had six eyes, its mouth jagged and its teeth rotten as it laughed as it ate your mare. Your eyes widened at the sight, but you couldn’t focus on your now dead companion. You needed to exorcize it and get back home. You were still a mile from the fields, but you couldn’t get there in time, you needed to end this now.

You forced yourself to your feet, the blood running over your eye as you tried to focus on the cursed spirit. You let yourself manifest your cursed energy quickly, focusing on the cursed wolf before aiming at its head, a loud cry escaping its monstrous mouth. The snarl escaped its throat as it ran at you, your body releasing more cursed energy at it and watching as you blew a hole into its shoulder.

There needed to be a way to do this quickly, your body faltering at the dizziness in your head. You were losing too much blood but if you passed out you were as good as dead. You tried to focus, you couldn’t die here. You couldn’t die at the jaws of some mid grade curse. You were a L/n. You were above these types of curses. You were the gifted one, the heir of the L/n clan. The disgrace you’d bring onto your family if you were to die at this moment.

Just then, the cursed wolf ran at you, channeling your energy and sending it full force, watching as it jumped over your attack and lunged at you. Your eyes widened as you jumped off to the side, your body rolling down the hill as it hit the bushes and shrubbery, surely gaining cuts and bruises from the foliage.

Fuck!

You tried getting to your feet, pushing yourself up only to be tackled by the damned thing, your body collapsing and continuing to roll down the drop of the hill, reaching for some sort of branch to keep you from falling further down.

The pain in your body overcame you, letting you slip into unconsciousness for a split second as you tried to regain your thoughts. The blurriness wouldn’t allow you to see your surroundings until the jaws of death snapped in your face, the momentum pushing you back.

“Get off!”, you forced the creature off of you with a surge of energy, struggling to get to your feet as you sucked in a deep breath. You were in fight or flight, and right now flight did not seem like a viable option.

The wicked snarl rang out again as the cursed wolf seemed to radiate unbelievable negative energy. It lunged at you, its teeth ready to rip you apart but before it could you felt a surge of power overwhelm the space, a loud high pitched cry escaping the throat of the creature. You let out a breath of air, turning to look at the blurry figure next to you, your breath uneven as another light manifested in a white, blinding power before completely evaporating into nothing.

Your breath was uneven, trying to calm yourself, but just as the spirit disappeared, your body collapsed to the ground as you slipped into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~

The warm blankets around your body helped with the soreness that overcame you, your eyes still hazy from the slumber you were in. You moved your head slightly, your hair splayed around you in a halo as you tried to move your arms. You felt a presence next to you, trying to focus your sight as you blinked, taking in the comfort you felt from the figure.

Sukuna…

“Don’t get up.”, his voice was deep, careful yet with command in its tone.

“W..what happened?”, you whispered, your head turned in his direction as you met his gaze, the feeling of his fingers brushing your hair back bringing a warmth into your chest. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my home.”, he turned, motioning for a white haired woman to bring more water. “You lost some blood trying to fight that cursed spirit. I killed it.”

“Oh..”, the white haired woman came back with a small bowl and towel, bowing before leaving. You relaxed in his touch as he placed the wet towel on your head, helping clean the remains of the blood on your skin.

“You need to rest.”, he said firmly.

“I need to get back home”, you looked at him with pleading eyes, not wanting your family to have a reason not to trust you being out on your own. You needed to get home soon, and fast.

“You’ll pass out before you even reach your territory.”, Sukuna’s red eyes had a darkness to them, but you chose to ignore it, your mind everywhere and without a care of the extent of your injuries. You felt his hand wrap around your wrist, gentle to not burn your skin with the energy he had conjured up due to his irritation with your injuries.

“Sukuna, my father will send scouts looking for me.”

“Fuck them.”, his tone was sharp, his energy slowly growing in size. Your pleading e/c eyes looking deep into his, a sharp sting of sympathy flooded his veins before he released the negative cursed energy. The crack in his armor miniscule yet it created waves of confusion in him. How could you make him slip in his position with just one look?

He ignored the thought, narrowing his eyes before standing and walking to the small wooden dresser, picking up your clothes and placing them on the table next to his bed. You watched as he turned towards the door to give you privacy, his body dressed in his usual robe but you could still see the outline of his muscles and the massive power his body held. You couldn’t help but take a moment and admire his body. Your mind took in every inch of his being, allowing yourself to forget about his crimes and cruelty in order to study him. Were you fucked in the head?

You snapped out of the hold his presence had on you, reaching for your clothes only to realize he’d had them cleaned. Was it that woman who cleaned them for you?

You changed, carefully and stood out of the bed, touching your head as you felt the fresh bandages wrapped around your forehead and temples. Pushing the sliding door open, you revealed him waiting for you, his tall statue leaning against the wall as his eyes skimmed over your body before pushing the glint in his eyes away. You both didn’t say a word, you just followed him as he walked out of his home.

He led you through the woods, ensuring you’d arrive to L/n House in one piece and conscious. When you were within range you turned to him, looking up to meet his gaze due to the obvious height difference.

“Thank you.”, was all you said before turning, walking the last half mile home, feeling his eyes on your back as you followed the path. It was only when you reached the entrance of your home did you feel his energy disappear and your shoulders slumped in disappointment.

You slowly pushed the door open, closing it softly behind you when the echo of your father’s voice rang through the room.

“Y/n, it’s late, where have you been?”, your father called from the other room, your mother rushing towards you before a loud gasp escaped her mouth.

“Y/n! What happened to your head?”, her question made your father rush into the room, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

“Where have you been? How did this happen?!”, his tone was heavy, it wasn’t worry but anger and you knew he was more annoyed by your injury than worried about it. “You can’t possibly be getting this from your special ability?”

You could read in between the lines of his words. He wasn’t worried you were hurt, he was annoyed by you being injured at the effects of your domain and special technique. He was annoyed that he would have to face scrutiny for not being able to master your ability and domain, thus leaving him with a weaker claim to the family honor than he originally thought. He already hated that you were what the gods had given him to carry the family name, you being weak was just another hit at his pride. Regardless of how the realm saw you, regardless of how you were loved and respected, to him you’d always be the reason he didn’t have a high claim like the other families of the Four did.

“Do you really believe I’m so weak I can’t control my own technique?”, you stared at him in disbelief, in hurt. “Do you think so little of me?”

“You are the heir to our family name! If you can’t control your technique then what have I spent the past 20 years of my life doing?!”, his voice was filled with conviction, the anger bursting through each word. “We already have a weaker claim to our position in the realm because you were born as a daughter instead of a son and now you show up like this? We need you to be strong, intelligent, and better than those other boys, and you still show me more reasons why you should have never inherited the Eye of Aurora.”

You felt your lips quiver slightly, the lump in your throat growing as you tried to stop yourself from cursing your father. You knew he’d always hated that you weren’t born his son, but you believed if you proved him wrong he’d have no choice but to find pride in you and your power to succeed the L/n name. You couldn’t take his unrealistic standard of you anymore, you just couldn’t.

“I am not here to fix your broken ego or make your insecurities better.”, you growled at him. “I am your only heir, I am the inheritor of the Eye of Aurora, and I am the reason our family has a place in the Four families! Me! I’m the one who’s loved and adored by the other families and villages. I am the one they seek to protect, the one they seek to continue in this time of peace without war. When I was born, so was our legacy. You have done nothing to solidify our claim to the realm but I have!”

The anger boiling inside your father was overwhelming, your frustration with him was a disgrace but you couldn’t take it anymore. You were tired of being seen as some weak woman by him, as some sort of disappointment when you were the greatest thing that had happened to the realm in decades. The Eye of Aurora was seen as one of the highest of abilities, that of nobility. Your insolent father was too obsessed with power and reputation to care that you were the successor of a noble jujutsu bloodline.

“You are nothing without our family name. You need to get your technique under control or so help me. I'll have the old sorcerers from the Zen’in clan exorcize it out of you and let your body rot without your ancestors to guide you!!”, his voice echoed through the halls.

You sensed an overwhelming power, sucking in a breath before releasing your own. A pang of shock at its sudden appearance before relaxing. The energy had disappeared.

“It wasn’t even my ability that did this! I got attacked by a cursed wolf in the woods!”, you spat back at him.

“And you didn’t think to send a signal for help or try to use your technique?!”

“I was getting attacked from every blind spot I had! It killed my mare, it jumped me from behind, I didn't even sense the energy before it was too late!”

“Great so now you can’t sense cursed energy. You really are just a sorry excuse of an heir, a defective worthless waste of potential!”

The dagger twisted deeper into your chest at his words. Why couldn’t he understand? Why was he so selfish, insolent, and greedy?

“You’re the heir to our family bloodline and you almost get killed. It would be better off that way.”, he turned to walk out of the room, with your mother closely behind him. You pitied her lack of backbone, lack of support towards you.

“I was fine!”, you snapped. “Sukuna helped me exorcize it, I didn’t need help from anyone else!”

A cold sensation filled the room, realizing your words as you said them. Your eyes meeting your father’s as he turned towards you. His eyes filled with a shock and disgust that left you feeling sick to your stomach.

“What…. Did you just say?” his voice sent a chill down your spine. “Did you say… Ryomen Sukuna… helped you?”

“I-“, a loud slap echoed through the air, your head snapping to the side from the impact. Your eyes wide in disbelief as the burning in your cheek exploded through your face. It felt like time stopped, the whiplash of the hit burning a hole in your chest.

“You were with that monster?!”, his booming voice filled the house, his cursed energy radiating off of him in waves. “What do you think you’re doing with that thing? He could have killed you! He’s a sadistic monster!”

You remained silent as you felt the anger fill the room, hearing your mothers gasp at your father’s words. The trembling of your lip almost broke you, your chest burning in anger, hurt, and sadness.

“You are not to go out to the fields again. You stay within L/n house and your training will be overseen by the elders.”, your face stayed angled down to the ground, your heart racing in your chest as your father made the final blow.

“Now you sympathize with a monster. You really are a defective disgrace.”

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heartfullofleeches · 11 months

Text

Carnis [Yan Experiment] General Hcs

A little post exploring the character of my new love Carnis Warnings for Cannibalism, Self Harm and Murder.

• Carnis is a lab made Human/Cow Hybrid created with regenerative abilities for the purpose of organ harvesting to be used on ill patients and as a source of food for the population. A shy, anxious creature who only wants to be loved. They are one of around a dozen successful experiments and the only S ranking Hybrid with meat a similar quality to prime Angus beef. The project was shut down by higher ups after complications and the still living subjects were to be sold to the highest bidder. Through biting through their chains and the aid of a third party Carnis was able to escape before the auction. They are presumed to be deceased.

• Carnis knows very little about the human world. As they grew, it was imprinted into their impressionable mind that all they are is livestock. Due to this idea, Carnis may grow upset or feel they are worthless if Reader rejects their offers of fresh meat. They both reject the notion all they are is meat, and clings to it as their only way to get what they desire. Carnis believes love to be a reward for them to gain by doing everything in their power to prove their worth from sacrificing their flesh to keeping a tidy house.

• Carnis prefers they/them pronouns, but as long as they are treated well name/pronouns does not matter to them. She/Her and It are the only ones they don't like as the former doesn't feel right and the latter reminds them of their time in the facility.

• When under extreme bouts of stress, Carnis bites/claws at their skin sometimes until they see bone. The easiest way to negate these reactions is by holding their hands or if they are wearing something that belongs to reader as their scent calms them down and they would hate to get their blood on something that belongs to them.

• Carnis is not aggressive by default nor do they typically rely on violence to get their way, but if they see anyone attack Reader in any form they have little control on what their body tells them to do. This can be something as harmless as a friend teasingly pushing them. When enraged, Carnis will not stop until the threat is neutralize or if Reader is able to smooth them in time. Their teeth and nails are their primary weapons which they will use to rip out the jugular and face of their target. Will cry like a baby afterwards and immediately seek Reader for comfort for what they've done

• Carnis has a habit of repeating words they say and parroting what others say as well. This majorly stims from learning most of their vocabulary from researchers and guards they interact with. They have been shunned for this feat in the past and often try to think deeply before they speak with unfamiliar persons, but with Reader they are at their most relaxed and thus their speech is relaxed as well.

Another thing they only allow Reader to do is touch their hair, horns and tail. Their hair is the only thing that doesn't naturally regenerate which leads to them valuing it more than anything below Reader and their horns and tail have just always been a touchy area considering majority of the population don't have either. Playing in their hair or rubbing their horns are sure-fire ways to smooth them or help them fall asleep during restless nights.

• Junk Food and Candy has always been a luxury to them as their former caretakers withheld them a treats for compliance which is why they attempt to woo Reader with both. It is their go to method of cheering reader up when they are down - keeping various candies and treats on them at all times. Their idolization of sweet and treats runs so deep one reason they may fall for Reader is them just giving them a piece of chocolate.

[That's all for now! I'm literally so obsessed with this little sweetie so there will be more]

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere #Carnis my oc #yandere hcs #yandere hybrid

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stackslip · 27 days

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the aftermath of scar's first attack on the elrics has a markedly different tone in 03 and mangahood and ive seen some mangahood fans says it's an example of why they dislike 03 over manga/brotherhood—in 03, the brothers are very clearly closed off from the rest of the mustang gang and reaffirm their own strong bond to each other above all, not trusting the adult military members; whereas in mangahood there IS a moment of complicity and relaxation with the mustang gang for coming to rescue them, and a lot of people cite it as part of their endearment for mangahood—the elrics aren't alone, and they learn to trust and love other people, including the military adults who have their best interests in mind.

difference in taste asides, i think that this is forgetting a crucial element of the previous eps and why exactly 03 ed and al react the way they do. unlike mangahood, where scar just appears as a demonic and horrific threat without much context except that he's from ishbal, in 03 the elrics learn about ishbal and the military's atrocities there right before confronting scar. they're told firsthand that it wasnt the heroic military action they'd been told, but a savage genocide that their friends in the military actively partook in! ed and al have a whole conversation about whether scar is justified before ever confronting him, they learn of his losses, and al.... actively believes that scar IS justified, and that were al in scar's shoes he too might snap this way. scar's actions are immediately recontextualized to the viewer before we see him attack our protagonists, a great amount of sympathy is given to him by the narrative and by alphonse. and not only do the brothers have to suddenly contend with how their plucky military colleagues have aided in genocide, and that they have been actively lied to by the military, but then ed gets the bomb dropped on him that mustang killed winry's parents. his superior officer and the guy leading the plucky military crew is directly responsible for the suffering of their close friend!

so like, between this, scar almost killing ed but showing al certain empathy and promising edward he won't harm his brother, having to swallow that not only is the military is far worse an institution than either the brothers suspected but that the people cheerfully teasing them and showing concern for their safety have been active participants in unbelievable levels of suffering (including the suffering of an amestrian girl they DO know)..... yeah, of course al and ed end up being far more closed off to the mustang gang after scar's attack! ed didnt just almost die and lose his arm, he has to suddenly contend with very ugly truths and how much mustang might have been hiding from him til now. no wonder they reaffirm their bond to each other—how do you trust these people when they're still in the military after being ordered to murder innocent people and the help lie that it was a simple and necessary military operation? ed at this point is still somewhat stuck in his "well Equivalent Exchange means the world is fair and also i got some deep racist issues embedded in me, so surely the military didnt commit genocide for no good reason right?" but like.... he's still swallowing the pill that he was lied to, that mustang murdered winry's parents on direct orders from the military, that his becoming a state alchemist really was selling his soul to the devil. and al is coping with his own mortality and body, and with how what he would have done had he been scar, how fucked the entire situation is.

honestly it's a much better take on scar imo but it's also yet another example of how 03 is bitingly critical of not only the amestrian military as an institution, but of the people who willingly participate in it. there's no neat separation of the good military heroes and the evil military dogs—once you join the amestrian military you ARE their dog. you've signed away your soul. you're an active participant in their crimes, unless you leave and actively begin opposing them. scar pointed out himself he would have let ed live had ed quit the military earlier! he's only interested in going after the people who have been actively participating in amestris's military atrocities. and yeah it does mean that the mustang crew in 03 is not the lovable goof squad or Found Family people care about in mangahood, but tbh 03 is just fundamentally uninterested in these kinds of dynamics at all.

i think it's ok to have different taste and say, well, i need/want a crew of lovable goofs and found family to enjoy fma as a whole! but i think it's completely unfair to criticise 03 for saying that your favourite war criminals are.... war criminals, and that the teenage protagonists' realisation of the extent of their crimes should not at all affect their dynamic with the crew.

#eli talks #fma 2003

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demodraws0606 · 16 days

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Guys...I think Whit is the culprit.

Sorry guys this is gonna be a long one

You know I'm a big believe of Whit mastermind theory and depending on how the trial goes he could still be the mastermind despite being the culprit but uhm...

Mf has like an 80 pourcent chance of being the culprit

My theory of Levi being the culprit kinda has went down the drain though i'm not really that upset about it because it was admitidely the most generic route.

I still do not buy for a second Eden is the culprit mainly because it contradicts a lot of her behaviors and also is only really based on one piece of evidence that could be explained by something else.

I think the most credible option to me right now, is Whit, especially because with how certain things are laid out for us we can actually make out a concrete motive for why Whit would do this.

I'm gonna write down what I think and explain why I believe Whit is most likely the culprit (also i'll deal with a couple of holes and explain why the theory still works alongside them) and also i'll use a couple of speculations made by other people as well

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I think it's known by everyone that the way Whit's secret was revealed is extremely strange, for like two reasons.

One, it means that it's impossible for anyone (including Whit himself, we'll get into that later) to have known what Whit's secret was, or to confirm it with certainty in the trial. We only have Whit's word for it.

Second, Whit takes a very strange amount of time until saying what secret he has, like right after Hu denied to say which secret she has. Which is extremely weird because if his life was so uneventful wouldn't he have managed to pick out a secret as blatant as this.

I thought this would be meant as a red herring to put suspicions on Whit however with Levi revealing his secret and this loose thread still not being addressed, I think it has to be important to the case at hand.

Now, despite people pointing this out every analysis that tries to handle this kinda goes into a brick wall because it immediatly assumes that Whit is lying about the dead mother secret being his. However there's too much pointing towards Whit having the dead mom secret.

No, I think we're going about this the wrong way. It's not about us not knowing what Whit's secret was, it's that Whit had no idea what secret actually was his

In fact that's mentionned before trial on how Whit just didn't know WHAT his secret even was, and no one could really tell him what it was because Rose threw it away

But that's weird right ? You would think Whit would know that his dead mother would be the likely secret, you could argue he just didn't want to share with everyone but that still doesn't explain the strange amount of time until he revealed he had Rose's secret.

And if he didn't want to share that his mom was dead, why did he let everyone the opportunity to say if they had his secret and to spill the beans...

Unless things are more complicated than just Whit having a dead mom, after all if it was just that wouldn't he have known immediatly that was his secret ? After all Teruko had the same issue as well as she didn't know what her secret could actually even be.

You could argue that I put my back against the wall here. If Whit not knowing his secret was his motive as to why he commited the murder then why did he let a bunch of people the opportunity to air out a potentially incriminating secret. Wouldn't that mean he wasn't worried about it ?

However, you have to keep in mind Whit had no idea how bad the secrets were, the only secrets that was revealed was J's which in retrospect of other secrets seemed like a much lighter one.

You could argue "Well Whit had David's secret which was pretty bad" however despite how bad that secret was it was also very vague and since Whit didn't know how much about David it doesn't really mean much on how deep the secrets were.

Considering Whit's personality as well, it was possible he was in denial or some deeper reason as to why he wasn't thinking about it. "Bitter things need to go down the drain" and all that.

In fact Whit was one of the first ones to say they shouldn't reveal their secret before J's secret was immediatly revealed.

I also don't think Whit being in denial has to be rooted in logic either (especially with how inconcistent he seems to be about the secrets), the murder was commited right before the deadline and although there was planning behind it, it was still a last minute decision (aka not done immediatly during the day of the motive reveal). You could argue pressure got to him or he overthought it as it became increasingly clear how much deeper the secrets went and how much the people who set this game up knew about them (something Whit investigated himself).

I think the way Whit acted about the secrets is too contradictory to really use any of what he says as actual evidence against the secrets not being his motive basically.

Now, let's go into the other point and how it works with the potential motive, the speculation that Arei was waterboarded.

Yeah, this seems to hint heavily that this is what happened and Arei's actual cause of death would be by drowning instead of strangulation like expected.

But why not strangulation ?? Why do a technique that is much harder to kill Arei, unless they were trying to get something out of drowning her. I mean we don't technically know if it was actual waterboarding but considering how planned this murder was and how we do actually have pieces of clothing that would serve for waterboarding, it seems to be likely.

(I'm not exactly sure how it stuck together with the starch afterwards but considering how the playground's ventilation works it's possible it dried up quickly) (There's also Arei's missing glove if you don't believe Teruko and Hu's clothing where used for it)

There's also no reason to drown her instead of strangling her with the rope unless there was another justification for it. But the episode actively goes out of it's way to say that there probably wasn't an attempt at tricking people into thinking the murder happened during 7:30 PM.

Anyways, why would the culprit waterboard Arei then ??? Clearly this means they were trying to get information out of her...

Which makes 0 sense unless it was Whit who would at least have a small justification for it, aka him not knowing what his secret is. I do admit it is a bit blurry on what type of information Whit would've truly wanted or why he did this before just killing her. However out of anyone (that already isn't pretty much confirmed innocent) it would only make sense for it to be him.

Now onto other stuff unrelated to the secret thing, like how unhelpful Whit has been this trial to a suspicious degree. AKA :

-Trying to distract away from the letter framing Eden and then just throwing her under the bus immediatly when he's questioned about it.

-Refusing to reveal David's secret

-Coincidentally having an excuse for not seeing Arei's body swaying

Now all of these could be argued to be in character reasons, after all didn't he do something like that chapter 1 with Charles (kind of). However this is a new level of trial interferance that really isn't justifiable at a certain point.

You could argue "well wouldn't talking about the note and David's secret be useful to make them seem guilty"' and while that'd be right to an extent. However everytime Whit witholds something like with Eden and David, he seems to cave eventually so the only thing he has achieved in this trial so far is to stall for time. Which could potentially be intentional if he's the culprit.

Now that I've kinda covered the major points, here are a list of suspicious things, mostly things that Whit knew before I get to my final point (how this would fit the narrative this chapter).

(I do wanna say most of this things isn't technically necessary info that the culprit needed to know but it definitely helps).

Whit was present during Teruko and Hu changing, meaning he would have known about their old clothes and could have found out where to get them.

Whit was present during the fight in the cafeteria, which is when Arei demanded to have her rope thrown away leading to Mono-TV putting it in storage

(Eden was busy helping J and Arturo so only Teruko, Charles and Whit could've known this information by listening in)

Whit also is the reason David is in the relaxation room leading to his conversation with Arei although idk how much of that would even possibly be planned or how that would help him, still important to note though.

There is probably more I could say however I want to get to my last point, I do think Whit being the culprit fits this case more than anyone else.

I know the question of the tape is still unanswered, if Eden did take it wouldn't that mean she is the culprit ? Well I don't think so but overall I just don't think this one singular piece of evidence is enough to say Eden's the culprit especially if we look at the bigger picture.

I'm probably just repeating the same things people probably have heard already but Eden committing such a gruesome murder for pratically no motive at all (outside getting out but it would make the secret motive useless) just doesn't really make sense.

However it is true that from what the title of this chapter suggests "all that glitters (is not gold)", it would mean a character isn't as innocent/good as they seem.

But wouldn't that title make more sense with Whit ?

Eden and Whit both are seemingly the positive vibes character of the cast, both being seemingly "normal". However Whit's positivity is a lot more toxic than Eden's, cracking jokes at innapropriate time and seeming to not let himself show even negative emotions (contrary to Eden who has let herself be upset multiple times).

Narratively speaking, Whit being the culprit, would put Charles in a similar situation to Teruko perhaps deepening their bond further without having Teruko going through a regression arc (she was way closer to Eden than she was with Whit).

It would allow Eden's message to not be lost/contradicted while also going with the apparent theme of the chapter that things aren't as they seem.

And also "all that glitters is not gold" would be a very smart saying for Whit, the one who died his hair blond (would be a very fun double meaning)

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #whit young #whit drdt #eden drdt #drdt chapter 2 #drdt theory #drdt levi #levi fontana #eden tobisa #keep in mind this theory is messy because i've slept at 3 am due to DRDT and woke up at 8 am #anyways it's jarring at how much i've changed my tune about chapter 2 but this episode basically just #changed everything by not really saying much #ik i haven't explained the tape stuff in context of this theory however #i think people have kinda lost themselves in the sauce for something that only proves Eden's involved and not that she's the culprit #I don't know where the tape fits in exactly but I just think there's too much against the Eden culprit theory #Also if Eden did take the tape and didn't commit the murder it's not like she can say because that would make her look #way too suspicious #and basically confirm her as the culprit #anyways for the Whit Mastermind stuff it can still work with him as the culprit but its possible his motive has something to do with his #strange behavior #anyways these tags are getting too long

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currently-reading-a-book · 6 months

Text

A Tale of Two Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The seemingly shy Dr. Spencer Reid is interrupting you at the library, but don't let his quiet demeanor fool you...

Genre: smut

Warning: crime scenes; talking about murder, heated kiss, made up facts (let me know if I forgot something)

Word 1118 Count: words

A/N: As always, any criticism is very welcome. Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. English is not my first language. Not proofread.

Anyway, enjoy :)

✧ 🎀 -------------------------------------------------------------- 🎀 ✧

The building was huge. The dull grey walls ran through the whole building, seeming to never stop. You could easily get lost in one of the many departments of the FBI. An outsider would declare this building old and labyrinthine. However, for you, it was home or the closest place to one. Of course, you only have limited access as you’re just a trainee. You could only get inside the school side of the building, but you only needed the library to feel safe. Every possible minute of your free time you spend there. Being surrounded by piles of thick complicated books, trying to study every field of knowledge that exists.

The sternmost part of the library was your favorite. Nobody was there and you could enjoy your peaceful solitude. This was also the part where unsolved closed cases were located. Reading through them, trying to find a repeating pattern, and making an accurate profile. Hoping the police can then find a suspect that fits the criteria. With this method, you have quite a success and solved relatively a lot of cases. That is actually how you got into the special program of the FBI. It all started when you were solving a case of strange murders your local police couldn’t solve. It turned out the priest took justice a bit too personally. You analyzed the victimology of the murders and started to make a profile. The police just needed forensic evidence, which luckily was found quickly.

As you were nearly done with your profile on a murder case, in deep focus, someone disturbed your beloved peace.

“You know sitting on the ground could raise your potential of getting sick by over 18%.” A shy voice stated.

Letting out a breath, you snapped your head around just to see a guy with long blond curly hair. You lowered your glance a bit and saw his ID Card. Your eyes shot open. You're on your feet within a few seconds. “This can’t be true, can it?” you thought.

“You’re Dr. Spencer Reid!”, you said, a bit too enthusiastic.

He backed up a bit, startled by your elation. He hesitantly nods his head. Of course, you heard of him, like everybody did. Maybe you liked him a bit too much, like not everybody did.

He worked at the Behavioral Analysis Unit (BAU) of the FBI and was also a professor at the academy. One of his most impressive traits was undoubtedly his intelligence. It was hard not to be impressed by the breadth and depth of his knowledge, which set him apart from others. You would often hear amazing stories about how his mind solved cases. He was incredibly skilled at what he did and a huge role model for many, also for you. Working with him was always a dream for many and again of course you dream about it too, maybe even more than others. “Suddenly, you remember your position. You’re a forensics student and he was an agent, even a doctor to begin with. Another point would be that you had a crush and didn’t want to scare him away.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was too excited,” you slowly admitted, locking down.

Embarrassment was written across your chubby face. He took a step closer, gaining confidence. He smelled incredible, masculine yet fresh and pine. Just like you imagined.

“I see you’re trying to solve the “Lucifer Case” and have you gotten any further with it?”, he asked, trying to break the awkwardness.

You look into his eyes, trying to read him. Confused why he would show any interest in you, you try to find out any motive by analyzing his body language, but you can’t find anything too convincing. A moment later he was standing beside you, looking through the files spread around you on the floor.

“I was just about to finish my profile before you interrupted, Doctor Reid”, you told him quietly. Your shyness got the best of you.

“Oh, please call me Spencer, Y/N”, he responded promptly, “and I apologize for interrupting you.”

Your cheeks heated up. Looking at him shocked, he looked back smiling. Too astounded to notice that he had called you by your name, which you hadn’t told him yet.

“Wait, how do you know my name?”, she questioned him embarrassingly late.

His smile got bigger. Even though he was close before, he reduced their distance some more. Now your back was pressing against the bookshelf, unable to escape his intense gaze.

“Your reputation precedes you, Miss Y/L/N.” he hushed seductively.

You swallowed hard, staying quiet. “What could this mean?”, you thought to yourself. Everybody in the study facility always said Spencer Reid was a shy nerd, but now you’re standing in the library with him towering over you.

“I was very impressed by your profile of the Cryptic Puzzle Killings,” he whispered into your ear, “it was a genius profile.” His voice was sending shivers down your spine.

“Doctor Reid,” you stuttered, but then interrupted you.

“it’s Spencer, remember?” You couldn’t think straight anymore. “I was holding back too long, I couldn’t resist any longer Y/N, please forgive me for my bad-mannered roughness,” he muttered as his lip brushed faintly over your neck. This was the moment your breath stopped. Am I dreaming?

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he muttered as he placed sloppy kisses around my neck.

“No, don’t stop.” That was the only thing you could say; his hands feeling too good on you. How he griped your hips pressing your hips more into his clothed erection. Feeling his touch like hot burns all over your body.

“I needed to use this opportunity,” he breathed .

As you wanted to reply to his confession, all of a sudden, another voice was calling for Spencer. Your cheeks flushed even more at the thought of getting caught with Spencer at this situation.

“Spencer, I said I would talk to her!” A stern voice was speaking with such authority.

Spencer quickly stepped back, taking all his warmth with him. You were looking around, overwhelmed with the situation, trying to figure out what was happening. Still feeling hot after your heated situation with Dr. Reid. Spencer was now around two meters apart from you, smiling at you shyly. His duality will kill you someday.

“Hotch I am here,” he quickly yelled back.

Whispering a quick apology to you before the tall black-haired guy showed up before us. His firm eyes looked into yours. He was standing in front of you with a straight face. Frankly, he seemed like a strict guy who didn’t understand any jokes. You’re starting to get the feeling that you did something bad. Your mouth got dry.

“Are you Y/N/Y/L/N?” the man asked you.

You nodded your head skeptically. Unsure of what consequences it might bring.

“I am Aaron Hotch, Supervisory Special Agent and Unit Chief of the BAU,” he continued, “And I am asking you Y/N to join the team of the BAU.”

Your head began to spin.

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relatableblorbopoll · 9 months

Text

Round 1 of preliminaries, group 11

The first two places get a place on the bracket

Little reminder: there will be 2 more rounds of preliminaries, the losing blorbos of this poll still have 2 chances of getting in the official bracket

Propaganda under the cut

Mae Borowski (Night in the Woods)

"Spoilers! She's a college dropout in her early twenties, who suffers from untreated mental illness and dissociation and had a complete breakdown at college, causing her to come home. Now she's living with her parents again, but life in her dingy little hometown went on without her. Her friends are adults now - in a relationship and planning on moving to the big city, or having to waste away in a dead end job instead of following their dreams. Mae is the only one without a new adult role in life. She's not great with people either - she's blunt and often doesn't think things through, and in many ways just doesn't get the world of adults. She's also prone to petty crimes and general anarchy. She's kind of lost and purposeless, and trying to find meaning in life by desperately clinging to the past. Her decision to drop out of college probably saved her life, but it's also put her family in a tough financial situation and is viewed by most people as her just thoughtlessly doing whatever she wants. She's also kind of shamed a lot about not having a job or other productive role in life, despite the fact that her untreated mental issues are actually disabling for her. She also plays the bass real bad. Anyway, i love Mae a lot. Playing this game as a college dropout in my early twenties, sitting in my childhood bedroom in my mom's attic, back in my dingy little hometown, desperately missing my old friends who have all moved on to better, resposible things in life... yeah, it felt like the game was pointing dead at me. Given tumblr's general demographic, i figure i must not be completely alone in this"

Shigeo Kageyama / Mob (Mob Psycho 100)

"autistic. likes milk. if we reach a certain level of emotion we turn into a psychic bomb. cool brothers :)"

Barry the Quokka (The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog)

"Their only skill is working the microwave, they're non-binary, when seeing a trash bin their first instinct is to look through it, they're always the most normal person in the room, they can beatbox, and they were only hired due to being the only one who applied."

Kaveh (Genshin Impact)

"In a fantasy world, be a guy with a regular profession losing his goddamn mind. Poor guy has a guilt complex, (so true) and a lot of deep embarrassment regarding his life.(ehe) He just wants to do what he's passionate about but capitalism is evil and also he keeps getting scammed. Claims to not want anyone to know Things, goes into depth about these Things anyway. Is probably most definitely gay. Can be found face down on a table lamenting his fate. Terrible sleep schedule. (HA) He is such a guy. Wants to believe the world is a good place and people are inherently good. And wants to help people and do good himself. It's just hard. [And he has a roommate. Oh my god he has a roommate]"

"He was, and still is, regarded a genius. He aced his Akademiya days, he has the admiration and appreciation of so many people because he is oh-so remarkable. But what for, when reality is that he sits at home depressed and with guilt consuming him, faking the image people have of him, not only broke as fuck but actually in debt, drowning his sorrows in wine."

Yusuke Kitagawa (Persona 5)

"highschooler who wants to spend the rest of his life doing what he loves. is obsessed with art and beauty and it's on his mind 24/7 received help from his now friendgroup to break from his abusive foster father who he still have complicated feelings with had to move into school dorms and am struggling to live independantly since he'd rather spend money and time on his art but he's still surviving and enjoying the good times id say also ends up saying whatever is on his mind and is pretty eccentric. very passionate about what he loves. doesn't want to do anything else."

Nanami Kento (Jujutsu Kaisen)

"Ex-salaryman, now jujutsu sorcerer. During one life-and-death fight, kept talking about how it was almost six pm with is when he is getting off work at 6pm no matter what because he hates overtime. While his opponent repeatedly almost kills him. Normalest adult in this shonen anime. Teen MC: "Let's go all out!" Nanami: "No. Where moderate effort will suffice, use moderate effort." Some of his quotes from the anime: "I studied at Jujutsu Tech and one thing I learned is that Jujutsu Sorcerers are shit! Then I worked at your typical company and one thing I learned is that work is shit! If both are equally shit I'll take the one I'm more suited to." "You've faced several life-or-death situations, but that does not make you an adult. Finding more fallen-out hairs on your pillow, watching your favourite stuffed bread disappear from the convenience store... The accunulation of these little despairs is what makes a person an adult." "I don't praise or disparage anyone. I adhere to facts and judge on that basis. That's who I am. There was a time when I mistakenly believed society operated the same way." "

#preliminaries #tumblr polls #tumblr tournament #character bracket #character tournament #mae borowski #night in the woods #shigeo kageyama #mob psycho 100 #barry the quokka #the murder of sonic the hedgehog #kaveh #genshin impact #yusuke kitagawa #persona 5 #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen

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medusapelagia · 25 days

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29 The Escape

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt:Future ) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: Force into hiding) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: Eddie shaving his head (I know!!!) Words: 1196

“We are leaving. Now.” Steve says, grabbing the duffle bag they always have ready under the bed.

“Who?”

“Suits.”

Fuck. Still better than Demogorgons, but not ideal.

“How many?”

“Eddie, I didn’t stay to introduce myself, ok? I just saw a couple waiting suspiciously outside the diner and I turned back before they saw me.”

“You’re not wanted. You could just go there and tell them I kidnapped you or some shit like that. Everyone will believe you and you will finally be free from hiding.”

“No fucking way. We’re in this together, did you forget it?”

Steve was the only other person at the trailer when Chrissy’s Cunningham body snapped into pieces like nothing. He knew about monsters, and creatures from other dimensions, and now that the big boys have invaded Hawkins, he’s Eddie’s only companion. Steve’s the one who can drive, go grocery shopping, book a stupid motel room, all of this while Eddie hides in the trunk or in the back seat covered by bags and moldy blankets. Because nobody suspects that Steve Harrington, Hawkins's golden boy, is friends with the suspected serial killer Eddie Munson.

Yeah, because after Chrissy other two teenagers died one after the other, Fred and Patrick, and even Max almost didn’t make it. But the danger is still lingering in Hawkins, waiting to find a way to get back to their dimension, and while Eleven, the super girl, and the Party do their best to find a possible solution with the help of Owens’ team, Eddie is still suspect number one so the only thing he can do is hide.

Canada doesn’t sound so bad after all. A little bit cold, maybe, but Steve told him his parents have a house somewhere in Canada and that’s exactly where they are going, traveling by night, driving always within the limits to avoid bad encounters.

Avoiding Hawkins’ checkpoints wasn’t that easy, but luckily the military was still busy coordinating the aid and it wasn’t that hard to pretend that Eddie died in the earthquake, but now that they are finally close it seems that the suit is following them. Maybe they didn’t find a body and so they have sent communication outside Indiana. For the first time ever Eddie saw his face on the television and it wasn’t a nice feeling. But Steve is optimistic, he keeps saying that they are almost there. Just a couple of days more and they’ll pass the border and then things will get better.

“Hey, big boy, need a place to rest?” Eddie asks, seeing Steve’s head fall down abruptly.

“I’m good. We’re almost there.”

“We are not, Steve. We can rest for a moment, you know that right?”

“We can’t keep spending money in motels, we have to save. Canada is expensive.”

“Let’s reach a parking area and rest for a bit, huh? Just half an hour, maybe less.” Eddie proposes, while he knows perfectly well that if Steve agrees he will let him sleep way more than half an hour. The boy has huge dark bags under his eyes, and they haven’t checked his wounds in hours. They surely need to be clean again. And that’s Eddie's second part of the plan. Get clean in a bathroom and maybe do something a little bit drastic but necessary.

“Ok. Just half an hour, ok?”

Eddie winks, fingers crossed behind his back.

Once they find a little rest area he helps Steve in the back of the car, it’s not comfortable enough, Steve is too tall and he’s sleeping all crumpled on the back seat, but it’s still better than sleeping on the driver seat.

Eddie turns on the radio, keeping it softly, listening to the night music. A dejay somewhere is talking to the night people, and Eddie never felt such a deep connection with someone he doesn't even know.

His life, his messy and complicated life, it’s gone. The only person who ever cared about him thinks he’s dead, or a murderer, or both. And he didn’t graduate. Not even on his third try.

The sun is starting to shine when Steve stirs in the back, coursing loudly when he notices how late it is, but Eddie simply shrugs.

“You needed to rest, Steve. We both know it, and a couple of hours will not fuck up our entire plan, ok? Now come on. I need to check your wounds and ask you a favor.

***

The bathroom next to the gas station is filthy, dirty and smelly. The walls that once were white are now yellowish and covered in pornographic graffiti and phone numbers. For a moment Eddie wonders if they should call one of those numbers, just to hear who will answer. Maybe Mary Ann, who seems to be ready to help everyone feel good, is just a nice granny baking cookies in California.

“You ready?” Eddie asks, grabbing the white bag with antiseptic and bandages Steve just bought.

“Be quick, I don’t want to lose more time.”

“Yes, captain,” Eddie chuckles, unwrapping Steve’s bandages while he holds his t-shirt and hisses between his teeth, “This might sting a little. Sorry.”

Steve nods and Eddie cleans the wounds that are still pouring some blood even after days.

“You should have those checked. Like professionally.” Eddie says, trying his best to patch him up.

“Once we’re in Canada I promise I will,” Steve replies, pulling down his t-shirt and covering his hairy chest that was already giving too many ideas to Eddie.

“Now what? You told me you needed a favor.”

Eddie nods, grabbing his switchblade, “Cut my hair.”

“What?! No!”

“I’m too fucking recognizable, Steve. Cut my fucking hair, then I’ll shave my head.”

“I thought you wanted to shave your face! not your hair! I’m not going to let you.”

“So what? Are you telling me what I can do and what I can’t, Stevie?”

“No… it’s just… it’s your hair.”

“They’ll grow back.” and they will, the only thing Eddie doesn’t know is if they’ll grow back in prison or not.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I hate this!” Steve complains, but grabs the switchblade and starts to cut Eddie’s black curls.

The more hair falls on the ground the more Eddie remembers that his father used to keep him with a buzzcut and that he hated it, but that’s not the moment to cry on some stupid hair.

“Do you want me… do you want me to shave you?” Steve asks softly.

“Please…” Eddie begs, unable to stare at the mirror.

Steve squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, trying to reassure him, and then he starts to shave his head. Once he’s done Eddie doesn’t seem the same person as he was when they first entered the bathroom. Even he as to stare at the mirror for a long time to realize that’s him. Once he’s finally convinced they leave the bathroom and get back in the car.

This time Eddie is sitting next to Steve, wearing Steve’s clothes and with a shaved head he keeps playing with.

“You ok?”

“Peachy.”

He freezes when they cross the border, but once they are safely in Canada Eddie takes a big breath of relief.

Maybe he’ll have a future after all.

#au gust #steddieangstyaugust #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #writing prompt #prompt challenge #fandom event #au gust 2024 #alternate universe #writing challenge #steddie event #stranger things #angst #angsty august

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portsandstars · 7 months

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youtube

Revisiting Red Spring Studio's Interview with Blerdy Otome - Select Quotes

It's been almost a year since RSS had this interview, but I think that many people have not listened to it, or recently revisited it. I thought I'd highlight some quotes from it, though the entire interview is worth watching! Some of these quotes I have lightly modified for clarity or succinctness but the majority are direct transcripts.

23:30: "Touchstarved is a horror romance visual novel where the entire cast is made up of characters where you're like, "I can fix them!" but you actually can't. I think that Touchstarved is a very complex and mature story with really really complex themes and interwoven routes and obviously it's very sexy at the same it's a romance - and I think it's one of those games that I've always wanted to see exist and I think that a lot of the team has always wanted to see this game exist as far as being this kind of like dark, broody, moody, but also very deep, right, and authentic and honest exploration - Monsters, and the feeling of being a monster - feeling of being an "other", right, whether you're queer or POC or anything like that… we've created a game that's not only really fun and action-packed and bloody and all that kind of stuff… but very heartfelt in a way that I hope readers can pick up on.

Imo, this line of reasoning ("you can't fix them", and the cast's monstrous nature and how it intrinsically ties to/is an analogy for being queer, or POC) - makes me think that even in the good endings for the game, your character won't be minimizing the character's monstrousness. For example, even if your character has the Power of True Love, it's not going to make Vere nonviolent or absolve Kuras's guilt.

25:35: "These themes are pretty complicated in a way that's messy and honestly bloody and I think for that reason is why we're looking at a mature rating - that said, when we set out to make the game our goal wasn't really to be explicit, it was much more to focus on sexiness . . ."

Just clarifying that there won't be explicit sex scenes in the game.

28:55: "What are some aspects of the story that you are most excited to showcase?" "I'm so excited that people get to die terribly, that just gets me so pumped up. Like in previous jobs I have not been allowed to brutally murder . . . main characters permanently and it's very important to me that I now have the power to write really just messed up awful endings…Don't worry, there's also good endings there too, they just get as much passion and all that stuff as the bad endings… but the bad endings, oh my gosh, those are some of my favorites."

This line makes me curious about whether the main characters are just MC, or if the other characters will brutally die as well!

30:50 "A little while ago we posted Kuras's character reveal and people really like the fact that he can't cook so for me it's really cute and innocent seeing people obsess over that fact and I really just want them to see the contrast between that version of Kuras in their head and what he's actually like in his route. Like I just really want to see them react to like the terrible things he's going to do. . . They're all awful in different ways that I'm really excited for people to see it - it's very funny to see everyone be like _Literally name any of the characters of the cast and be like "they're my little meow meow" and it's like, oh. good. I hope this continues once they learn more about the characters. Obviously they're all wonderful - right, the characters are all awful but they're also all wonderful".

32:26 : "the theme of monstrousness and how each character kind of approaches it differently . . . because they're all monsters, even if they're not literally monsters . . .it also plays into each character's brand of horror in their own way as well that ties into their monstrous nature."

This line especially (to me) hints at how Leander is likely not SPECIFICALLY a monster, but a human with a monstrous nature.

34:30: - Ais was the first character they made and each of the other characters build upon him, so they spent a lot of time getting him right. Vere was the easiest to create and they made him in a weekend. Kuras was the hardest to create (especially visually).

38:00 "This is a romance game and a big draw of the game is making a love connection with these characters - do you all plan on including platonic friendship routes in addition to romance routes, or is it strictly romance?" The way that we planned out this game is that we wanted to focus on the intimacy of these individual relationships between the main character and the love interest and the route that they're on, right, so this is the way we had planned the game from the beginning. We really like poly romances, for example, and friendships, but we think that it wouldn't have made much sense for the characters in the story that we had written for them because this entire story - with who the main character is and why they're having to turn to these mysterious monstrous strangers - there's a level of intimacy involved in the themes and stories that we really focused on for how we're writing…

It's almost like a narrative design intentionality we did early on because each route that you'll be able to play from the main five cast is very driven and each character is like a ticking time bomb in their own way. So if you choose to romance Vere, Kuras's route still continues and you can see the effects of what not choosing Kuras is in Vere's route when you're playing Vere's route. So the world is meant to be very interwoven and interconnected where you can see the ripples of everyone's choices even when you're not romancing them and in that way we've designed this cast that's woven together. So if we did want to do a poly route, we would probably have to do entirely new characters . ."

43:30: "One of the fundamental goals of this game was to have, as you've been saying, a living world - a world that's evolving, and one of the ways that we wanted to communicate that was with the idea that these characters are not doing great… um, they're all in very very bad situations, uh, they're all essentially doomed if you do not go with them and it's seeing that carried out in each route that I hope will be really interesting for people.. it will be very sad, in a good way".

ARGHHH this is the WORST. This means that if you choose a character, you're essentially dooming the others. Though this will undoubtedly manufacture delicious angst, I'm soooo sad at imagining each of the other characters faltering and ultimately failing on their paths because you didn't chose them. Though, I wonder if there are some routes where multiple characters turn out ok, or if the entire cast is doomed as soon as you don't select them (in different ways depending on the route)?

54:30: "I also want to clarify too that even though we've been talking about blood a lot and all that kind of stuff and death and we love those parts of the story, um, if you get those endings there's a reason why, you know what I'm saying - you have to actively try to get those endings - poke the bear with a stick."

Definitely referencing Vere's bad ending in the demo. Personally I am too curious to avoid them, but it's encouraging that some of the MC deaths appear to be because you deliberately make dangerous choices, rather than simply "tricking" the player and surprising them.

Let me know what you think of these quotes, and the whole interview is definitely worth a watch if you haven't seen it!

#touchstarved #touchstarved game #red spring studio #red spring studios #leander #vere #kuras #ais #mhin #touchstarved theory #touchstarved meta #Youtube #mine

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rise-my-angel · 21 days

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Heart of the Great Wolf

61 - Scattered Pieces of Truth

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

Length: 18.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, past traumas, past character death, possessive tendencies, smut, handjobs, p in v, accidental voyeurism,

Notes: You may notice that leading up to a certain accidental incident, that I didn't build up to it with a horribly ill fitting contrast of beheading a toddler. Take notes, Condal. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

To the few in the room, the sight could be seen as a rather strange one. At least in context. To Olly, you had been introduced in his life as a fierce figure commanding an authority which granted him mercy at what he felt like was the end of his path. You offered him empathy and forgiveness but showed none of the same to Ser Alliser Throne and beheaded him the day you had arrived. In a way you were the image of an intimidating Queen to the boy in ways stories only whispered about Targaryean women of the past. But in other ways, you also were the closest thing to a mother he had left.

Counting his blessings, Olly knew that whatever older brother sort of figure he had once seen in Jon, he had ruined the night he shoved a dagger through his heart. But yet somehow you took Olly in regardless, and found a place back in the world for him when many times over he felt as if he lost his. So to him, being allowed to stand at your side in moments like this were odd, a side of you he had only ever seen before in memories of his own mother. Perhaps he was a bit jealous, but after he had done everything to warrant you executing him, you took him in as your own and kept him by your side so that he served someone who understood his complications.

On the other hand, he was not the only traitor in the mix whom you spared. Theon stood with a life so vastly different then the one he once lived, he felt practically a stranger to him. The day Ramsay Snow had sent him into Moat Cailin to negotiate the other Ironborn to surrender, he could remember such a wave of conflict. The way blood was spit into his face and called a woman for trying to say there was honour in a fair defeat. How on one side he could hear himself trying to voice through a shaking in his muscles that he was actually Reek, but then he would also stand there and see you.

In the dungeons of the Dreadfort, sickly, ill, covered in so much sweat, grime, and blood that he almost did not recognize you. The way you had tore your head up from hiding in your arms with tears staining your cheeks as he told you he didn’t actually murder Bran and Rickon. The way you looked at his state, his circumstances and he knew you had forgiven him. How no one had called him Theon Greyjoy but you. When one man had murdered the commander in order to desperately accept Theons terms, he had remembered who he felt like next to you and Robb. Someone who could be better then his worst parts, only to have Ramsay lead his men in and flay them all alive.

Theon had stood silent as Ramsay wrapped an arm around his shoulders insisting that traditions were important, as to why he had done it. But all he could do was stand there. Not even shaking or twitching as he normally would. He wasn’t really Reek then, he was Theon. And afterwards when they had returned to the Dreadfort to prepare the move to Winterfell was when Roose Bolton gave Ramsay his legitimization from King Tommen.

Once Ramsay was no longer a Snow, the less Reek did Theon feel on the inside, and the more he felt determined to not let Ramsay turn you into that either.

Finding the only bravery he had in years, Theon had shot Myranda in the back with arrows to stop her from attacking you. When you had found your only bravery in you, you plunged a kitchen knife so deep into her mouth that you had been covered in her blood for days. All he could do was hear how close you both were to being caught and how frozen in fear you were. How weak as he was Theon managed to find that strength, he had picked you up to jump from the battlements, a height you yourself had once hoped would kill you. He had shaken you out of your daze, and Theon never forgot that what convinced you to stand with him and run wasn’t even the promise that he was taking you to safety or taking you to Jon.

What got you up and standing was Theon offering his hand and promising that he wouldn’t leave you behind. Yet if he looked back then and seeing now, it was night and day. Not a hint of the same person stood there and it was difficult for Theon to put into proper thoughts. The relief of being able to witness you getting to this point, but also the conflict of truth coming this way, quite literally.

Of course, for all of them, Maester Wolkan saw it in the most direct way. He hadn’t met you before, or after escape. Hardly days had passed by the time he was summoned to the dungeons to examine you, since you had awoken to new life. He had seen you at every part of your worst. Once he had walked out in the courtyards here in Winterfell to a scene of Ramsay. Your dress torn off, shivering in a short shift in the snow as Ramsay had knocked you to the ground and threatened to slice the remainder off when he had to interject. Saying that marrying you would not be possible if the boy let you freeze to death.

He had shoved you to the snow even more as he got up to storm away, Wolkan managing to get you gently to your feet and covered to guide you inside but had so little reaction from you. Numb like your skin felt bare in the freezing air. Most of that year he knew you, there was not a hint of life in your eyes, and it was truly a feat he could claim saying you were the saddest girl he’d ever known. Yet here you were now, something nowhere near that sight.

A smile bright and shining on your face as you looked down to little Eddard, toying with his small kicking feet as if to tickle the bottoms of them each time he got to wiley. It had been close to a week passing since arriving home and Maester Wolkan had insisted on seeing the baby again to check both his health and state of growth. Question after question and it seemed the little one had gotten fussy laying there on his own.

Causing you now as Wolkan made his final examination for the day, you had knelt down closer so your eye level was more with where the baby lay. Hands always on him in one way or another, distracting him sometimes long enough that Wolkan could do something that might have otherwise been distressing. Or leaning up closer to his forehead with a kiss and gentle shushes to soothe him or pull out a small babble.

He was much how he was in your womb, a constant trouble maker. Always demanding of your attention, but the more affirmations he was healthy, the better you felt. The less as if you feared you had doomed your son to a difficult, short life simply because you had birthed him for too early. At the very least however, with both Theon and Olly in the room, you would be spared any questions regarding yourself for now. The less you thought about your state of mind, the better.

“I suspect within a fortnight, the little Prince will have caught up in growth to any other infant his age should be.” Glancing up to your side, your hands almost automatically moving around little Eddards grabbing insistence to dress him properly and warm once more. The others had been correct, there had been more then enough people around Winterfell and Winter Town whom wished to bring gifts and clothes to the newborn.

Nodding a bit, you had glanced down every now and again to give a little narrow eyed smirk to the trouble maker before finally giving him what he wanted. Carefully picking up him in your arms and resting him carefully up high on your front, as it seemed your neck and shoulder being his favourite place to hide away. “And you’re certain there is nothing more I could be doing to help with that?”

Shaking his head, Wolkan reached out to very playfully nudge a knuckle against the baby’s cheek whom both gave a small amusing sound but also squirmed closer to you at the same time as if he couldn’t decide. “You and the King have done a tremendous job in the face of a very unfavourable start. I assure you there is nothing more you need do then what you are right now.” Face only falling troubled a small it you clarified in asking if it was normal that at this young he seemed so shy. “Many highborns are surrounded by people all day and night when they are born. Always attended to by many, they get used to it rather quickly as a result. Little Eddard however had a start very reliant on his mother and father alone. It is only natural he will take more time to get used to being around as many as he is living in a castle.”

Glancing down, you could see his little hands mindlessly grasping at strands of your hair that sat closer to your shoulder. Almost holding it close to him as a young one may do with a plush toy, the thought no doubt crossing your mind if what happened had made him too reliant on you. Which was not at all what you wanted, people thinking you were raising your son to depend on his mother rather then grow up learning to be strong and stand on his own. Boys like Joffery, raised without being taught what being a leader entailed and hid behind his mothers skirts at every instance he could not yell and shout into getting his way.

The flash across Wolkans face with the growing concern of doubt on yours had you stand up straighter before the issue could be even slightly brought to your attention from his point of view. “I thank you, Maester Wolkan. I know you have much else on your plate, I won’t keep your time any further.”

Always a man not perturbed by dismissal in your manner, he was nothing but understanding likely of what you avoided. “No thanks needed, your grace. This is exactly what I am here for.” A nod given, before turning and gesturing to Olly to make leave, knowing Theon would follow.

At this point, even if you told him not too. Nevermore were he and Jon on the same page then when it came to watching you like a hawk. If it wasn’t Jon it was Ghost, if it wasn’t Ghost it was Theon. And somehow if it were neither of them, you still could not shake that feeling like eyes kept following you. The wrappings around your healing hands were cause for some concern, but not enough you couldn’t figure out why it felt as if eyes all around were watching you.

The only people who knew so far of the other day were Bran, Jon, and yourself. No one else had any reason to think they should keep an eye on you for that purpose, and yet they still did. It was odd for some to watch you of all people so motherly with such an easy smile attached, as it was odd for you to grasp the idea that it was somehow more complicated and difficult being back here then it had been for months out alone in the far North.

Another pair of eyes though, scoured the letter sent his way. The pile which came before were all of mystery, this one of answer, and yet it all felt as complicated as before.

Everything was complicated. Jon couldn’t condemn you nor Bran for what you were not saying about what occurred yesterday. He wasn’t even so sure Bran understood whatever he had spent over a year doing that far North. These sights, these visions Jon had. They always felt different then the way you’d describe yours. The dreams different too. Jon had walked your dreams, you never did his. Jon had never found himself lost in whatever visions he saw, he was here and saw there. It felt like it matched more of what Bran was experiencing then you, but if Bran didn’t really understand what this all was, Jon knew he had not a chance for himself. Let alone expecting you to explain it to him in ways he could grasp.

Instead, Jon focused on other things. Things which he’d rather not but were right in front of him. Or, the thing, the person. The man with the pin of a mockingbird attached to his cloak wandering his home as if he had a plan that would fall into place. Out of everything Petyr Baelish had done, he was smart enough to lie and cover his tracks to the point he stood in the Stark home as if he were not an enemy.

Both men were well aware Jon did not fall for it, but that made it worse. He already knew to navigate the suspicions of a man whom did not trust him. There was little Jon could prove, and what he could had to be careful. He and Arya had debated it just hours earlier.

Irate and pacing in his study, only Arya felt comfortable enough with Jon to rant and rave and yell the manner which she did. It wasn’t personal, so Jon felt no reason to tell her to calm down. With her, that would certainly not calm her any way. “We know everything he’s done to the point we could write a book about it. How is that not enough?”

Gloved hands braced against the wood of his desk, Jon stood behind it looking at her with a lower, more firm tone. “We can’t just accuse him of anything, you know that. If I drag him into court and throw nothing but accusations I can’t prove at him, he walks out of our walls for good.”

Arya’s face scrunched in frustration, Jon did know the feeling to well. An antsy sensation as if to physically fight back against a man only capable of mastering the art of mind games. Your name coming from her mouth, Jon too could sense the strong anger over it. “What he tried to do to her, and you think it’s safer having him here?”

A pit of something dark sat in Jons stomach. You had gone to take the baby to see Wolkan, he knew where you were and who was with you. He needed to swallow down that swirling void telling him to never let you out of his sight. Saying that to you was one thing, but to control you to that degree was another no matter what a specific part of himself said. Pushing through, a roughness was no doubt evident in his voice. “He almost had her killed when he was a thousand miles away in the Vale. I don’t know who he controls out there, but I know the limit of his reach here.” As soon as Arya tried to argue back, Jon continued on. “And if I accuse him now and can’t prove it, if I banish him from Winterfell or the North, Sansa leaves with him.”

Stopping in her tracks, Jon recognized the hesitation in her eyes attempting to smooth over with indifference. “You don’t know that. She came all the way back here, why would she leave if-”

Cutting her off, Jon felt uncomfortable with the why, but he explained it regardless. Arya needed to understand the gravity of the problem, even if he was hiding it from you. “Haven’t you wondered why even though you two spent your whole childhoods arguing about everything, why is it now it seems Sansa is only interested in fighting with me?”

The hesitation again he knew, she hadn’t quite considered that until then. “She’s just upset about learning she has no claim.” That was more of an excuse of cope and both knew it.

Jon just had to be the one to vocalize it more then he had to you. “Littlefinger knows he can’t manipulate me into giving him what he wants.” Your name coming from his lips, “And he can’t just try to do it with her either, with how much of a past they both know about. He’s smarter then that. His only chance is to use Sansa. And put her against me. And who’s the easiest person to do that with right now?”

Your name came from both of them, Jon in a tense frustration, Arya in a sort of defeat.

Walking around his desk, Jon leaned back to it’s front. Arms crossing in front of him as he watched Arya cease her pacing before he continue. Arya first asking how he was doing that. “I’m a bastard. It’s easy to find things about bastards to look down on.” Demanding more of what specifically, he knew that these sorts of things to Arya of all people, were not what she’d ever consider. Certainly not now. “I’m a bastard, married to a highborn girl. Who before me, was married to my highborn brother. If you’re assuming the worst about me, what does that look like?”

Face twisting into disbelief, Arya tried fighting back. “She knows you better then that, Sansa knows you’d never force anyone into being with you-”

The truth though hurt more then that, far more. “She doesn’t think I forced her into anything. All Littlefinger needs to do, is give Sansa the idea and she let it grow on her own.” It always came back to you, and he hated it. “People look down at me like I’m a liar, like I’m manipulative on purpose. If you tell someone bastards are born from sin, it’s not too hard to convince that person that I seduced her into being with me for my own benefit.”

It did take a good moment for Arya to connect what he was implying, but Jon knew it. The signs all begun to point to it, and now he was sure. The easiest way to keep Sansa from accepting the circumstances of Robb disinheriting her, is to use the one person Sansa always looked up to as an older sister and paint her as a victim of a bastard’s lust and deceit. To convince her that Jon was using you to keep his title and favour amongst his men. And Jon returning to Winterfell with you and a newborn made that look worse.

He and you had joked of it on the ship home from Dragonstone, but it was true. It is far harder to separate a King and a Queen from one another, if the man gifts her a child. And a son and heir no less. “I was always protective of her, but now it’s different..it’s..more intense and to someone looking for the worst in me-”

Finishing for him, again Arya’s tone had been defeat and a tinge of frustration, understandably. “It just looks like you’re controlling her.”

Jon was protective of you, possessive to the point sometimes he wondered if controlling you that way would make things easier for you, so you didn’t have to worry. But he also knew that wasn’t right, that wasn’t the part of him that Ned Stark raised. He struggled already, having to be apart from you during the day when for over six months he had you all to himself every single hour, but this was something else. This was a despising burning feeling in his heart at being apart from you, wanting you to just stay beside him and listen to what he told you for your own good.

He didn’t want to be that way, but a dark part of him always felt now like it would be so much safer for you if you did, even though the man in him knew that wouldn’t be good for you in every other way. He had tried to vocalize it to you in a softer way, and you had tried to dissuade him from such thoughts, but it continued to fester. Those parts of Jon that Sansa was worried for you about, weren’t made from nothing. Because part of Jon was that way, or wanted to be that way with you. She was just wrong about the why.

Being a bastard had nothing to do with this obsessive feeling. Just the blood running through his veins.

Sitting there now, Jon knew he had to still be careful. Sansa was his sister, and she belonged here, in her home with her family, but if Jon made the wrong move or was too bold too early, she might leave and not return. And with what winter storms approached, Jon knew that couldn’t be an option. He had to be careful, he had to stick to not only what he could prove, but what he had the right to prove.

Littlefinger had done many things, but Jon knew if he was using you to manipulate Sansa against him, if Jon could prove to his sister that the man tried to have you killed, that would sway her. Perhaps make her realize the extent of the manipulative things he spoke about Jon. Proving in a trial that Petyr Baelish had orchestrated an attempt on the Queen in the North’s life was as good of something to end this shadow he held on the Stark family, then every other crime he’s committed.

But between Jon and Arya, both knew they had a good chance at finding a conclusive way to do that, he just had to be quick about it, and somehow he needed to get it across to Sansa that even if just for the trial, she needed to trust him. Whatever other problems the two of them would have after, could be dealt with later. Right now, he needed to ensure two things alone.

Making Littlefinger pay for his crimes, and ensuring those crimes would not bring his little sister down with him. So as he wrote a raven to send off, Jon knew this was just one of the many people whom he needed to reach out too. His father would have done this as thoroughly and as properly as he could, and so Jon would do no less then that.

Jon just had to remind himself, he was only like one father. Not the other. He didn’t know how he’d handle being more like one then the other, so if he refused to think about it, maybe it this one problem would just disappear.

If only Jon didn’t spend most of the next hours after that, tense trying to figure out where you were and who you were with, and certainly not summon you to his side like a servant just to appease that darkness. Though as he descended the dark steps down further into the undergrounds, Jon did for once that day, find himself grateful that you were not here.

He knew what his men had informed him of, and for all accounts, she had been acting quite a good prisoner. Her brother in law had not protested any of it, nor did the members of House Ryswell. Jon had laid out very publicly what he was accusing her of, informed them he had the written evidence to back himself up, and his men had taken up in defence when she had suddenly stood from her seat in an aggression.

Having written to Lord Dustin and Lord Ryswell both, he knew the options were there. They were not protesting to her having been in Winterfell's dungeons these months, but he also did not wish for his time spent as her jailer, to be seen as keeping her from everyone else she knew.

Dark eyes peeking from more messy dark hair, Jon could see Barbrey Dustin while physically looked more worse for wear, she did not appear to be in ill health. Fed proper meals twice a day, accommodate her needs within reason, and allow her to be attended too should she need aid in her health. But according to Maege, she had not been much of any fuss. Kept to herself, and didn’t speak to anyone on the matters she was arrested for.

If Jon were honest, he was not expecting any respecting gesture whatsoever, nor would he really blame a prisoner for not doing so. Yet she with an expression twisted into her permanent frowning scowl, stood up with ease, and gave a half effort curtsy. “Your Grace.”

A nod back, Jons response seemed to act as fair permission to sit once more. “My lady.”

Coming closer, circles under her eyes were prominent, but they looked less hateful then the day she glared up at him being accused of a crime. Jon had not spoken to you what they had discussed alone, but just enough to ensure that he got the information he needed. Information, which was to be of use in a different way he ever intended to use it. Her voice came out more in a strained husk as if speaking was more on the side of foreign to her at this point. “It has been many months since I’ve had any sort of visitor. The last I expected of them would be yourself.”

Jumping right into the point, Jon spoke with an even tone and not with much in the way of easing her into his purpose. “Are you aware that for the past week, Lord Petyr Baelish has been in Winterfell?” Past the dim shadows casting onto her with firelight, Jon may have been able to more clearly see her skin pale, her shoulders stiffen. “He returned my sister Sansa, now that it is safe in the North for her.”

Both were patient in the silence, and the flickering away of Barbreys eyes spoke many stories all doused in a degree of fear until a more push for sternness came through. “I called you a fool once, I suspect needing to do so again for thinking that is all his intentions, would be unnecessary?” Only a single nod, and it forced her to find her words. Switching between looking up at him and drawing away in thought as if the fear had only just occurred to her. “So, what? Are you here to feed me to the wolves?” A breath passed between as she tilted her head in almost an amusement for herself. “Or, so to speak.”

Once more, Jon did not bother addressing the worst of whatever she would say to him. Pandering to her ire was not how he got a full and fair confession out of her, and he would not start now. “Lord Baelish has done more to hurt my family then you know, and finally we have him here. Right in front of us. If we were at war, I’d be able to keep him here, in our lands where I could surround him and kill him. But you and I both know he isn’t a man that fights with weapons. He’s smarter then that. Which means if I am going to bring him to justice, then I need to be smart too. Fight things his way.”

Glancing him up and down before turning away, Barbrey inhaled as she leaned her head against the wall facing forward once more. “Every man and women in the North despises him, why not simply drag him into court? Cut his throat and be done with it.”

Quick to respond, Jon held no room for doubt on his meaning. “That isn’t the kind of leader I want to be, and that isn’t who my father raised me to be.” A small lift of her eyebrows in some gesture of her own understanding, Jon pushed passed it. “I can only charge him for crimes connected to the North. To my family. But if I’m going to do that, I need to leave no room for doubt. If I declare him guilty, then I need all of my men to know what I know that led me to that conclusion.”

Muttering, she still did not return to look at him. “So what is it you want from me?”

Thinking for only a moment, Jon crouched down to much more evenly meet her eye level, his voice dropping in tone and volume as if to match. Without the furs adorning him, not standing over her, Jon knew making himself look less intimidating here was the right approach. “You told me the truth, all the truth. And for that I thank you, but right now I need more then honesty. I need your help.” Allowing a moment of quiet before continuing, Jon knew to give her the time to process each stage here. “I’ve written to your father and brother in law. Both have agreed to my terms, that you will be allowed to return either to Barrowton or the Rills for the remainder of your sentence. You’ll be stripped of your title, and to any right of Ladyship you’ve once had, but you can walk in whichever home you choose without chains.”

There was only one plausible caveat to that kind of offer, and her eyes rising up to the ceiling with a deep inhale and exhale from her nose told Jon she had put it together. “The sheer fact that a slimy weasel such as him hasn’t already sent an assassin in to murder me is my only remaining proof the Old Gods even vaguely care about my life. And now you come down here after months, and ask me to step into a public trial and give all of those same details but for him to know I betrayed him over?” A false laugh which did not reach her eyes left. “If this was an attempt at a joke, your grace, I would return back to your depressingly humourless self. Making others laugh does not suit you.”

Little had even hit his skin with such words. “Tell me. Do I look like the kind of man to come down here and make jokes about your safety? Make light of a man who I know tried to have my wife murdered?” Dragging dark eyes over to his, only a spot of guilt did Jon see within her gaze before she once more broke it.

Another laugh that time more of a huff leaving her chest. “Forgive me, but some days I’m not quite sure which wolf’s blood you really came from.” Were Jons blood capable of freezing so suddenly his heart would stop, it would’ve happened all in a laughing breath of Barbrey Dustins words. He made not a single indication as such, but he felt his heart unfreeze from the fires around and beat faster and more painfully then before. “Brandon had no children as far as he knew, but women looked to him like no other man. Were I not to know any better, I’d say you were more likely to be Brandons then Ned’s, given how impossible either of you seem to have been able to take a joke.”

If Barbrey was implying that Ned Stark was funny compared to his Uncle Brandon, Jon crouched there more understanding why many southerners all deemed Northerners as cold and humourless. Either way, the cut was meant more as a jest to entertain herself then force Jons mind to spiral. Stay focused he told himself. “If I hold a trial for Petyr Baelish, and I can’t prove his guilt, then he will leave Winterfell and take my sister with him. If he leaves now, my brother and sister will never see Sansa again and they only just reunited. Winter is coming. You know it, I know it. There isn’t a worse time to allow him the chance at keeping my little sister from her family then now when they all need each other the most.”

Jon had yet to know how he was going to mend that long since broken bridge between he and Sansa, but giving her reasons to distrust him more and leave with the one man who Jon knew had nothing but ill intentions towards her, was not an option. Their father had confessed to a crime he didn’t commit for a chance to try and protect her, and Jon would not let him down now by making him die for that in vain. Sansa could hate and distrust him all she wanted, but she was a Stark, and Jon had to keep what was left of them together now more then ever.

Giving Barbrey no room to even speak before he continued. “You were someone important to my uncle. I don’t want to dishonour that memory by keeping you locked down here for the rest of your life, you deserve to be home. You won’t have any power, but you won’t be down here in chains being fed whatever the guards are kind enough to give you in hopes it’s warm. Do this for me, and you will return home. I swear it.”

It was not a promise made by a heart tree, but Jon was a man who would hold himself to a promise as such regardless. He had to keep his family together, and Jon would be damned by all of the gods if he didn’t do every single thing possible to protect you from the man who tried to murder you.

Still though, as Jon returned to the ground level he couldn’t shake off one thought. No, it was not the blood of Brandon Stark making Jon as intense of a man as he was, it was someone far worse.

It was someone he was struggling day by day, to pretend he was still nothing like.

Tormund Giantsbane loved his people, he really did. But he also would be the first to admit what a bunch of stubborn pains in his ass they all were. It had taken Mance Rayder over twenty years to get them all to stop fighting and work together, and even now it was as if they were incapable in their blood of not getting on his nerves.

Yet if there was one perk of his people, and him having spent so much time around fancy southerners, it was that settling problems was a lot easier. More then once Tormund would simply walk up to a pair ready to rip each other to pieces, and grab at both their collars and yank them apart or throw one off the other with a yell to shut the fuck up.

The free folk worked better with someone leading them, each clan always had one chieftain but as a whole group someone needed to tell them what was what and keep them in order. So from town to town Tormund would travel keeping everyone in check and on track with their purpose out here. The last time he had been in this place, what the southerners called the Gift, felt so far away it was a lifetime ago in comparison to where he was now.

Sure he had climbed the Wall more times then he could count, but none of those times south mattered beyond what ended up being the result of the last major time. The whole lot of them had followed where Orell said he saw something. Arriving at the Fist of the First Men, they had all gathered around the spiral formation of dead horses bloody and scattered. He and Mance had the same thought as the later knelt down with a frustrated disdain looking it over. “Always the artists.”

He knew for a fact who there didn’t quite get what was going on, two for a fact the way they spoke briefly about it. Ygritte had spoken up, “I thought you said there were dead crows.” When Orell confirmed that there had been, it seemed as if it was only Tormund and Mance who understood what was going on.

Well, them and the crow. Back and forth Jon and Mance went about what happened, how many men Mormont brought out here and a silent unnerved understanding in him about what he knew had happened here. Mance noting that Mormont took a big gamble coming out this far, and that the best fighting men had to be dead, and they were far from home. Which was when he said it. “Tormund, climb the Wall.” Telling him to bring the crow with him since he may be useful. “If not, throw him off the Wall.”

Tormund had spent much of that time south really not caring what Orell kept going on about. Jon hadn’t given them any reason to not trust him yet, and Tormund knew what was really getting him worked up. It was pretty pathetic if you asked him, the fact that he felt so threatened by a crow of all men. Orell wanted to fuck Ygritte, she was into the crow. He was mad and made it everyone else’s damn problem. That was, until Orell was right.

“Make the crow kill him. You’re one of us now. Prove it.”

A fight broke out in the rain, and in truth, Tormund had more then his fair share of time to think about after he was thrown in a cell in Castle Black months later. His size, his skill? And he didn’t even try fighting Jon, not once. Instead he all but held Ygritte down to stop her from losing her shit, yelling at her to accept that he was still one of them.

He knew her for a long time, she was one of them, but he’d be damned to say she was unbearable to deal with after that day. All she could do was walk around in a mood, or rant and rave about wanting to kill him. Once telling her as simply as he could, “When you actually do, then tell me all about it. For now, I’d rather talk about anything then your crow.”

Then they attacked the very villages his people lived in now. Tormund now didn’t make excuses for it, he did what he did and couldn’t take it back, but in their own way he and Jon understood each other. Tormund was a solider, did what his leader told him to do and he did it well. Attack the villages near the Wall to draw them out, but that didn’t work so they kept hitting more and more until it was clear they were forcing them to hit them at Castle Black directly.

For Jon, that night was probably as good a win as he could’ve imagined for how few men it turned out he lied about having. A thousand he said, and maybe there were a good two hundred at most, and still he managed to hold them all off on both sides. In his memory though, was Tormund ever angry.

He liked Jon, always did. Came into the tent with attitude, snapping back to his threat by saying all men die the same no matter what size they are. Liked him from then on, and truthfully, of course he saw it coming. Orell kept saying it, little signs kept coming from Jon that told a different story then what he was pretending to say, Tormund knew it was coming and that made him angry the most.

That he saw this coming, and liked the crow anyways. And now he was mad for it. Out of his whole band of men he led, only he was left alive. Surrounded by crows but none wanted to get anywhere near him with his anger. He’d cut anyone down who came close. Only for a deep rasping voice to approach him in a frustrated defeat. “It’s finished, Tormund. Let it end.”

Not his best moment it was, hissing out, “This is how a man ends-” Only for the moment he moved with his blade, did Jon shoot him in the leg with a crossbow and knock his blade out of his hand and sending him to the ground. Not bothering to even stay as he told the other crows to put him in chains for now. Dragging him away, Tormund had shouted spitting that he should’ve thrown Jon from the wall when he had the chance.

But everything after that stayed in his mind. The way Jon spoke about the now dead Ygritte with something clearly angry saying he had no choice in what he did with her, and how Tormund got the clear sign what went on between them wasn’t quite what Ygritte would walk around boasting it was. The way Jon spoke of the woman he really loved already being dead and slaughtered like an animal, and the way he admitted that this King who showed up was the father of the woman Jon loved.

Gods help him there was way more about this Jon Snow for Tormund to think about then he expected in those days. But despite it all, as Tormund walked through the village all but yanking a passing child up by his neck telling him to “Hand it over.” Putting the knife attempted to be stolen back on his person, and the child to his feet telling him to scram, did Tormund know that somehow he still wouldn’t have traded any of where he was now for a better version of how he got here.

That dark eyed crow who walked into the tent that day, and yet now Tormund walked the village wondering when he’d get his ass back. He went off beyond the Wall and took you with him, but the other men around Jons castle weren’t quite the same. Part of him still could laugh, Tormund had not fathomed how insufferably protective of you Jon was going to be out there. He wished some days he could’ve joined this journey just for a chance to see him keep you tied to his side like you were a baby who couldn’t be left alone.

Dalba asked once what if you two were dead, and he never bought into that. Weaker men then Jon had survived out there, and at least he had a real cause motivating him. Still though, waiting to know what was out there, what happened, what would happen and when you two would get back was tedious and aggravating. And Tormund could only push around his daughters husband so much before that stopped amusing him.

Which was why almost on instinct, did Tormund at first swear it was Jon and yourself riding into that village. From a distance he sure as hell looked like him, and he could only see a blur that looked like a darker haired woman on the horse behind him. Though the closer they rode as a crowd gathered, did Tormund not have a single clue who the woman was. Hands tied in front of her, a narrowed brow as she sat in a silence but he did certainly recognize the rider.

It wasn’t Jon, but gods knew Tormund was more then familiar with what black haired Stark just came riding up. Years ago, Tormund would’ve used getting this close to sink a blade deep in his head, but both men approached the other in almost amusement as it was not much meaningful apprehension. “Everyone thought you were long dead.”

A tease on his tone that Tormund could pin as so close to Jons came right back without hesitation. “I’m surprised you didn’t hunt down my corpse and bring me back, just to kill me yourself.” Tormund lamenting that he had thought about it and the silence between could’ve turned the air.

Instead both men shook hands, a strange understanding it seemed of where both were to stand with each other now. “The fuck are you doing all the way out here?”

Gesturing back to the woman on the horse, her eyes tore through the village no doubt putting together that they were not the average Northerners. Benjen Stark at the very least, was always a lot less annoying to listen to then the bloody Halfhand used to be. “Taking this one to Winterfell. She’s Jons prisoner, should be in his dungeons where he’d want to keep an eye on her.” Asking what she did, she finally looked away from them and down with something no doubt of guilt, and Benjen hesitated. Dark eyes twisting behind in what to say before settling on a non answer. “Nothing good.”

“How the hell did you find a prisoner of Jon when hes all the way out north?”

Benjen’s answer was short and rather matter of fact. “He’s not anymore.” Taken back, Tormund only stared at him for an explanation when he elaborated, including you this time. “Both of them have been back for a few days. They found his little brother, my nephew out there. Poor lad can’t walk anymore, so beside bringing him back and a newborn, they had no room for a prisoner going home.”

Out of everything just spoken, Tormund asked one thing in question. “Newborn? What he find an abandoned baby out there?” As if turned out, the truth was even more baffling.

Much like Jon though, Benjen skipped passed any talk not of the matter at hand. “I need to take her to Winterfell, and Jon asked to get you to come with me when I did. Hasn’t had time to do it himself if you can believe that.”

Unable to help himself, Tormund looked to the side where Ryk stood, a mocking tone of strong condescension dripping from his words as he brought up your name. “She’s been married to Snow half the time you have my daughter. How come she already had a baby and you can’t even manage to shoot out one long enough to even flirt with the idea?”

By the time Tormund was up on his horse, his eyes found that of the woman tied up to the back of Benjen's, asking before the man walked up to interject. “What the hell did you do to piss Snow off? Try to kidnap his girl?” The way she said nothing, and the way she looked down to nothing and no one by the time they set off spoke volumes.

Something serious had happened that neither she nor Benjen were yet willing to slightly share. That was fine though, he’d get it out of Jon one way or another.

Knelt down, you had the wooden side pulled down just in front of you. One hand rested soothingly on the baby’s front while the other sat atop his head, your thumb running back and forth as finally you watched his eyes slip closed and the rest of him falling asleep. All day no matter what you were doing he was a fussy little thing, always being mischievous and demanding of your attention it felt.

Not anything close to frustrating but certainly much more tiring then you had been expecting, almost feeling as if you weren’t finding the time to do what other things you should’ve been. Staying knelt there, your hand on his front slowly moving to rest beside him, your chin propping your head up on your forearm and yet the sight before you struggled to match your thoughts.

Taking care of little Eddard wasn’t unpleasant, you adored having him with you and getting to watch him get used to having a real home. But another part of you would then glance to the men always hustling by in the castle, someone going this or that way, the work piled onto Jons desk and how he was always so busy. Filled to the brim his days were, and you had always been there to do what he couldn’t get to, or shouldn’t have too. You were his Queen, and so you acted it.

Now though, it wasn’t so simple. Your day was dedicated to the baby, it had to be. He was a newborn, brought into the world a month early and had to always be watched. That not even mentioning how you did not feel comfortable leaving him alone with people for long periods of time, perhaps your mother was the exception but none else. You didn’t trust that he would be alright being away from you or Jon for so long and he didn’t like it either. But that meant you had begun putting so much on Jons shoulders that you should’ve been lifting.

Slowly pushing up from your thighs to stand, you slowly paced over to his desk. Not messy it was, but not as organized as you knew he preferred it with so much to handle. One thing then the next, you found yourself growing that guilt inside with seeing everything he had to deal with and you had done nothing. You weren’t just his wife, you still were a Queen. And you had not been supporting him as such.

Ink scratching away at each paper, everything strictly organized to what you knew was preferential to Jons way of thinking. How frustrated he must have been you thought. Days now and he worked all alone, doing everything until so late and that was your fault. He would never say it, but it was. You had let yourself off too easy.

Jon worked harder then anyone, what right did you have to not push yourself to the exact same level?

In the back of your head you knew little Eddard was awake, but he had seemed content with staying comfortable in his cradle as you worked away. Brows narrowed almost in a scowl the more you worked, ignoring the strain it felt on your eyes to look only at the sights of paper, ink and candlelight for what must have been well over an hour if not two. Yesterday Jon had even said he wanted you by his side more, but what if the thing he truly meant is he wanted you back in your position as you used to be?

The door behind you both opened and closed without your notice, and yet it was the sudden high pitched yet excited nonsensical noise coming from the baby which drew your gaze to look at least over to him. Sounds of weapons being stored away with a clank indicated where he was in the room, but returning back your narrowed gaze kept writing instead of addressing it. Him arriving was not an excuse to stop.

Jon pulled down the wooden holdings, at the same instance the baby’s hands shot up asking either to grab or be picked up, his babbles a language Jon understood on his own. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you could hear Jon lowly mumble, “I missed you too.” Releasing him a bit more from his swaddle, you could hear the grin in his voice alone as he responded to his son as if an average discussion was being had. “Were you good for her...now we both know that’s not true.”

You hadn’t at all seen Jons gaze try to flicker over to you as if to bring you into his little moment with the baby only to hesitate. A pause in voice and eyes as he took in your demeanour and what you were doing before turning back.

Pressing another kiss to his forehead Jon murmured, “Behave for me, alright? I need time with your mother too.” Whatever babbling noise came from your son, you hardly noticed until a warm figure came to your side. A hand running down the hair at the back of your head while he leaned against the desk beside you, without sacrificing being able to see you. Murmuring your name one, twice before Jon took the liberty to use his grip on your hair to tilt your head to look up at him, disturbing you only when your quill left the paper. “I asked how long have you been at this?”

Opening your mouth to respond, you found yourself closing it just as fast in a question Jon no doubt picked up on. How long had you been here? You thought no more then an hour, but if the light filtering in from Jons window in a tinted golden glow spoke anything it must be treading on multiple hours. Dipping it once more in the ink, you shook his grip off in a dismissal and continued on. “Just finishing up a few things while he was asleep, is all.”

If he believed that or not, Jon yet gave no indication. Leaning down to catch your eyes, Jons face twisted in something more troubled as you did not even seem to realize he wanted your attention more. Instead, his hand moved around to grip your chin, turning you to look back up at him. Gesturing with a nod to the work sitting out, Jon asked a little more firmly, “What’s all this?”

It seemed there was a disconnect between you both, the majority laying in your hands not really picking up that something only started to bother him right then, your tone light and without suspicion of his narrowing eyes. “Nothing that I wouldn’t normally help you with.” Gesturing to one pile and continuing as if everything was fine. “These are all written up, they only need your signature before being sent off-”

Calling your name a little more firmly, Jon leaned forward to invade your personal space, not yet letting go of you. “No, I meant why are you doing all of it?”

Your silence was genuine. Lips parted and unsure as to what was going on when you were doing what you were always supposed to have picked right back up for him. Stammering in a quiet until the correct words slowly and carefully formed as your gaze drifted away. “I’m not sure what you mean, I always handle these things for you. It’s just the-”

Shaking his head to cut off what specifics you had worked on, Jon now looked as confused as he was growing frustrated. “Darling, that’s not what I’m asking.” Genuine in asking what was he asking you then, Jon drifted again to let his hand cup your cheek, running his thumb along your jaw. “Why are you doing all of my work for me?”

It came out as naturally as it did instinctively. “I’m sorry-”

The sigh leaving Jon was followed by his hand dropping from you entirely. A grimace as he exasperatedly pinched the bridge of his nose before his equally as frustrated gaze melted into his voice and tone as if in scolding. “Why are you sorry?” He knew you didn’t have an answer to that, nor did he let you waffle about in silence trying to consider the right answer to placate him. “I didn’t leave all of this here, expecting you to do it for me. It’s my responsibility, not yours.”

Oh there was quite a gap in the air of understanding the more you attempted to find the point he was making. “I..I am aware you didn’t tell me to do it, but I always do things like this for you. It’s my responsibility to help you.”

Jons interjection increased in a tone you were misreading as annoyed with you. “I never asked you to do the work I created for myself, for me. You know that I didn’t.” You tried to defend yourself more confused inside that he didn’t need to order you to know what was expected of you. “What is it you think I expect you to do?”

In your own mind, in the world you knew and understood of women in your position you thought nothing of the way you said it. Jon however, just stared down at you in a disbelief for a good heavy number of seconds as if you had spoken it to him in a foreign language. “To raise your son, to help you rule?”

Standing up, Jon passed by you for merely a few paces. Turning around halfway, your hand gripping the top of the chair with something more wide eyed as he looked back to you, seemingly not at all considering your confusion. “What is this?” You didn’t respond, you didn’t know what he was trying to even ask and he knew it. “Think about what you just said, and tell me when you figure out what the problem with that is.”

Truly he hadn’t said it rude or in any condescending manner, but it clawed at your insides thinking it did while too notably misreading the expression on his face as directed towards you personally. Nothing you said stood out, you didn’t understand. The words spoken were a pure guess and both you and Jon knew that. “I shouldn’t be helping only when possible, I should always be helping you no matter what-”

Cutting yourself off, Jon turned from you pacing even further into the room as he ran his hand down his face. Now much further away, it was even harder to read his real intentions of emotion. Gesturing out to you and motioning to his desk with his eyes growing darker. “And you think this is the way I expect you to do that?” Clarifying that you didn’t say that directly, Jon cut you off almost the moment your mouth finished forming the letters of the end of your sentence. “Since when have I ever expected you to do all this for me?”

Something was wrong, and you felt that unwelcome heat growing behind your face at not knowing why or for what. “Jon, we’ve always shared work this way since before-”

“Since before you gave birth to our son.” Before you even had a chance to let that thought drag you down into it’s depths, Jon elaborated. “I didn’t want you forcing yourself to work into the night when it was just me and you. I certainly don’t expect you to stretch yourself thin when you’re caring for our baby on top of that.”

Taking pity in you, Jon sighed out before holding his hand out to you. Gracefully pulling you to your feet, Jon guided you close enough that both of his hands could settle firmly along your hips. Voice small against what his had been, but still not on the correct path. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you-”

That time, Jons sigh was followed by his eyes closing shut. Forehead dropping to rest against yours but his tone was no longer filled with what you thought was annoyance. “I’m not upset, darling. And don’t apologize you didn’t do anything wrong.” Muttering gently that you didn’t feel it was that way, Jon lifted his head. Pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting back against you in a similar fashion as before. “How about you tell me where all this is coming from, because I know you’re not getting it from anything I said to you.”

When you found not an answer right away, Jon shifted both of you. Sitting you down on the furs at the edge of his bed, him now kneeling on the ground in front of you, both hands still by you sides up at your waist now. Grey eyes bright and wide looking up at you, with his hair pulled back making them stand out so perfectly in the hint of golden glow beside him. Your own hands sat in your lap, partially holding at the skirt of your dress in a manner indicating to Jon clearly that you were more on edge then he thought.

Your voice was quiet, trying to find a way to explain it to him without saying the wrong thing again. “I only was trying to say that, I’ve been taking care of the baby so much that I have barley helped you with anything. And last night you said you wanted me by your side more, I thought you meant by your side as in, doing the work with you.”

“With me or for me?”

As it so happened, your answer of apologizing for overstepping was not the right one still. Yet, it was not frustration or anger which came from Jon as a result. His head dropped a bit as a laugh freely left in a bit of a breathy manner. Eyes shining with his smile attached so handsome it was a cruel sight each time you always wanted to keep.

Lifting his head back up, Jon ran a hand that time down the side of your face, cupping your cheek with his grin still beaming with something holding no shred of frustration like before. “It’s a good thing you’re beautiful, because sometimes it is exhausting getting through that thick skull of yours.”

Face dropping flat only drew more of a laugh freely out of him, and smothered in you which he no doubt had caught you trying to hide. Dryly you let your eyes drag to the side of the room away from his grey ones.

Surging upwards, that time Jon caught both of your cheeks, bringing your flat expression to meet his grinning one to press his lips to yours. Nothing needing, but keeping you against him in something more deep then chaste alone, but not guiding you enough into anything to work you up too much with. Just his soft lips against yours taking what breath you had for himself, as you’d always chose to.

Just barley pulling away, you could feel his lips brushing yours with every word. Your hands resting along his shoulders as if trying to dig into the muscle for him. “I’ve never met a woman more stubborn then you.” Asking with a bit more light in your tone, asking if that was an insult or not, Jon just pulled you right back to his lips. “Yes.”

You pulled free that time as your head dropped, a laugh slipping through pulling a softer one from Jon. Running a hand down your hair again, Jon nudged your nose with his to gain your attention. Eyes dark but not angry or annoyed as you previously feared. “You gave birth what? Nearly two weeks ago? And for six months before that I dragged you all through the far North almost your entire pregnancy. I almost lost you twice after you gave birth, and we get home only to realize we still have to watch our backs.”

The tips of your fingers reached out, scratching gentle against the facial hair coarse against his jaw. “Sometimes you say things and I don’t always understand that they mean something different then what I thought. You said you wanted me by your side more, and because we already spent so many hours apart today I thought that you meant you wanted me doing my equal share of the work like we used to.”

Jon only nudged your nose gently again, that time not quite moving away as he kept you there in the near nuzzling like gesture, his breath warm as it draped across your skin. “Right now, you’re duty is to be my wife. To take care of yourself, and help raise our son.” The hand on the back of your hair gripping you a little firmly as if to grab your attention further. “Not my son, our son. Everything you went through to bring him into this world, darling. I don’t want to hear you putting yourself down by putting your importance here as less then me.”

Only a gentle murmur as your hands still toyed across his shoulders. “I didn’t want you to think I don’t want to help you.” Rather then addressing it, Jon only brought your lips back to his.

Barley managing words through each chase of your lips he pursued when he himself tried to pull back. “Right now, our son needs you more then he needs me. I never had a chance to be with my mother when I was his age, I don’t ever want to take that from him or you.” Nodding, you didn’t say anything further, nor did you need too. As if your lack of protest sometimes spoke better of your understanding then words spoken in the air. “I’m happy dealing with all of this, if it means I know you’re taking care of yourself. But I’ll make myself clear this time, even if you have the baby, I want you in more of my meetings from now on. You take care of him, and I’ll feel better having you by my side. But that’s all I expect right now.”

Not yet any response to him directly, your eyes opened, peeling to the side to the sound of a small sound you were growing familiar with. The fussing of a grumpy wolf pup. “I have two needy wolves vying for my time now, I can’t disappoint either of them, can I?”

Jon chose to go get him, the mumblings spoken to his son as he picked him up and you felt such a shine of sunlight sparkling in your heart at how Jon truly had a son that is just like him. You almost couldn’t wait for a few more years to pass, you wanted so much to see right now how close they would both be the older he got. Sitting back on the bed by your side, Jon only moved an arm enough to tug you closer to him. Your head without thought resting more down against his shoulder, your own hand letting go of your dresses skirt.

Dancing across little Eddard’s front as he right back made those same motions being grabby while a smile came about all three of you. Jons gaze being swapped between you and the baby, the sight more then either of you could’ve ever dreamt of to have with one another. Leaning more into your hair, Jon rasped lowly in your ear enough you were sure he may have been able to feel the slight shiver down your spine. “We have enough going on, don’t add to it by worrying I expect more of you then what you’re already doing.”

Little Eddard toying against the wrapping now fresh once more around your palms, tone a little distant but not so out of the room that you felt disconnected from the present. “And if this starts getting worse again?” You needn’t elaborate, you could all but feel Jons heavy gaze drifting towards the wrappings.

“None of what I said about this changed. Whatever all of this means, it isn’t just you anymore. We take it slowly, but I’m not watching you get worse trying to understand it.” Nodding gently, as the baby begun to settle better with both of you there, so did you turning more to hid away a bit in Jons neck. Feeling him turn his head enough to nuzzle against the top of yours as he whispered gently. “I won’t tell you to stay out of it, but for right now let me handle Littlefinger.”

Another small nod, your voice was apprehensive. “And Sansa?”

But Jon too was firm. “Right now, her problem is with me. I have to be the one to handle it.” Asking gently if he truly thinks Sansa distrusted him the way he suspected, Jon did not waver. “I know she does. But she has to accept just because she doesn’t understand you and me, that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. If I could change the way I am with you, I would. But I can’t.” Arguing there was nothing wrong with the way he treated you, you sensed that hesitation. But also, the sense Jon today did not wish to discuss it. Which was fine with you for now, that one was at his pace, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t make him feel more at ease over it.

Murmuring for him to let you take the baby, you watched his eyes drift closed just as you picked him up to lay him back down, the amount the little one needed sleep as active as he had been all day. You turned, and that time prompted Jon to stand. Slinking in behind him, you only just took off enough layers from him that his softer undershirt remainder. Beckoning him to sit right back down, you took an easy spot up on the bed behind.

Just as Jon asked what you thought you were doing, did you reach up to his shoulders, tense as anything. Digging deep into the muscles, within an instant no doubt his head dropped with a grunt leaving from deep in his chest. “I’ll always find ways to take care of you to, you know.” Muttering your name almost in a not very impactful warning, you continued on kneading into his muscles until they relax and massaged the remainder until you moved along his shoulders to more of his back. “We both take care of the baby, you take care of me. Someone has to take care of you, and I’m your wife. Which means, yes, it is my responsibility.”

A small huffing laugh left him, muttering low and a bit slurring together the further into leaning back into your touch he got. “Is there even a point trying to argue this anymore?” Your answer only a short no, and that huff turned far more into a laugh you could feel under your palms. “We’re both too stubborn for own own good.”

Reaching forward, your lips found his cheek almost pressing there gently to his suprise. Moving back to behind him just as you caught sight of Jon intending to turn around to try and kiss you much more urgently, and the frown attached to his face now a symbol of the grumpiness which came from not getting it. Slowly however, you let one of your hands drift up to his shoulder again only to make your own path sinking down into the open top of his shirt.

Grey eyes fluttering closed as he leaned back into you much more noticeably that time, you let your hand drift down his firm torso over to his heart. Your fingertips tracing over the deep wound never to be healed but yet the strong beating underneath it spoke of the most unusual of truths. Reaching behind, you read his ask without needing to be told.

Letting your other stop its work, Jon brought you closer to drape across his back as he tugged your other hand up to his lips. Pressing a kiss firmly to your hand and keeping a hold on it. “Do you really want to do something for me?” Your nod was nothing but genuine and innocent, yet not even did you quite yet register the lower bass vibrating through into your chest as he spoke. Jons other hand reaching up under the end of his shirt to grab at yours, pulling it slowly but with a purpose downwards to his hips.

Glancing back as much as he could, your breathing picked up as they flickered over what he could manage to see of you. Your voice something almost meek or unsure. “You want me to..”

Brows narrowed slightly, Jon almost teased unfairly. “Everything we’ve done, and this makes you nervous?” Your nod again was only innocent, were Jons intentions innocent he may have laughed. Instead the deep exhale only made your blood burn a little hotter. That time, Jon only shifted long enough to rest both of your hands down by his hips, the laces of his breeches toying at the edges of your finger tips. “Come on.”

Biting down on your tongue roughly, you willed yourself to keep the air calm and not doubt what he was asking. Out of anything you had the least understanding of what to do here, but Jon rested both of his own hands against the fur beside him. One lace then the other, any other man would’ve accused you of taking this long to tease or put a show on. But Jon let you go at the slow pace knowing it was simply what you were comfortable with.

Enough room for your hand to slink in, only an exhale left Jon as you did so but otherwise remained steady as he looked over his shoulder at you with a steadily darkening gaze. Wrapping a hand around his cock, already rather hard, a whimper nearly left you much to Jons dismay at you covering it up at the fact that you couldn’t even wrap your whole hand around him. How thick his cock was and you never got used to how intimidating it could be.

But you held at his hip to steady yourself, trying to move gently. Grip loose, and nothing but light strokes inhibited by the clothes in your way but he made you work around it. He didn’t make it easy for you. Just a husk of a voice drawing your senses into something hazy as he muttered, “Tighter. Grip me tighter, darling. You know that.” Jon inhaled deeply as you did, his cock twitching somewhat in your hand as you tried to continue. Barley moving far from the base of his cock, but now tighter in holding him you were still slow and kind, Jons head shaking with a voice any but you would mistaken for annoyed. “Think about how rough I am with you.” Barley did you pick up the pace, and that time an order came out almost in a growl. “You’re nowhere near close to how tight your cunt is around me.”

Again you tried to follow his instructions, and each time he let you stroke up and down his cock until a rising animal inside Jon once more reared its feral head. Telling you to pull him out, both of your hands had to do so. You always were so gentle with his cock as if he didn’t fuck you with it until you would pass out. As if you were incapable of being anything close to rough with him, and it only made Jon throb in your hand thinking about it.

The moment his thick length was out for your eyes widening and audible swallow, Jon sent a hand down to cover yours. His head whipping back to meet your surprised ones almost jumping back, the glare in his eyes took up so much space no grey remained underneath the black as he held your hand so tightly around his cock you could almost feel the blood rushing through him under your palms. “I fucked your ass until you cried for me, and you still do this.” It truly felt like his words did not match the angry looking darkness staring back to you. “I’ve tied you up and left you bruised and you still touch me like I’m the delicate one.”

It wasn’t an accusation but you felt lost for an answer as he started to move your hand with his own. Rougher strokes, faster and not even allowing you to ease the raw feeling by running your hands over where seed leaked from the tip of his cock. “I was too afraid to try and do things like this for you before, now more then ever someone should be gentle with you.” Jon muttered as his cock throbbed in your hand, teeth gritting as he watched his much larger hand almost hide yours completely against his thick length, that he didn’t treat you gently but your words made that growl in his chest come out as his head dropped back a bit. “I want you to do whatever you want when you have me in your bed, you deserve to have that much.”

Jons eyes fluttered shut as you diligently followed the pace he kept your hand moving up and down his cock at. As if he were alone, he was getting you to stroke him the rougher way he would handle himself. Only a fluster rose in your chest at a rather indecent thought, that before your time together now, you had never known just how much he would get himself off each night, and how often it was apparently about you.

Had you both been people that were allowed to be together back then, would Jon have truly stopped that rain filled night where he kissed you. He had you alone, wet from the downpour of rain in the sky and his lips urgently attached to yours pinning you against a tree. How far would he have taken it, had Jon felt the severity of the animalistic instincts he harboured for you now? Even more improper you thought, how far would you have been happy to let him take it with you?

Jon had been too unsure back then together to let you try it, but in another world where he was truly the wolf then as the one in front of you today, what sight would it have been? Shoving you down to your knees, nowhere to go and the sounds of your mouth taking his cock deep smothered by the rain but not hidden from his dark eyes.

But you weren’t the only one with images in your head, yanking your hand from his cock suddenly, Jon turned on you in an instant. Shoving you higher up the bed and roughly forcing you flat on your back. Shoving the skirt of your dress up enough he yanked your thigh high up on his hip, leaning over you stretching you out more and more indecently as if to let his cock run against your core, growing wetter and wetter at the feeling.

His other hand was pressed into the fur beside your head as he looked down at you with such a raw need that his eyes almost looked that of a wild animal. His voice rasping with a scratch against it, a growl asking for release. “And if I want you on your hands and knees?” Your eyes were wide, almost unfairly innocent as your hands reached up to his shoulders, Jon did not blink. “If I flipped you over now, dragged you back on my cock, show you how a wolf breeds his mate, you’d want that?”

Your nod almost did him in. You did not do anything but increase your breathing to match your racing heart blazing inside your torso, but to Jon it was torture. You answered his depravity with such innocence every single time. Voice light and breathy gazing up at him with not even lust, but an adoration against his own lecherous thoughts. “I promise, anything.”

Jons breathing was almost in heaves, his muscles tense looking down at you as if seconds away from ripping your clothes off with his bare hands to tear open the fabric for good. Dragging his eyes down your body and back up, tilting his head as if to implore you to make him proceed with caution. Your name much sweeter on his lips then his gaze and touch. “You can’t do this to me. You can’t keep giving me permission to do all of this. I-” That time he swallowed roughly, leaning his forehead down to yours, the hand beside you now cupping your hair at the back of your head to keep you where he needed. Rasp still rough but much more of a whisper against your skin. “I was only born because his men didn’t stop Rhaegar from doing whatever he wanted. You can’t keep letting me act like that with you, you shouldn’t let me treat you this way.”

Nudging up to run your nose brushing against his, a barley there kiss left to his lips as you cupped his cheeks. “This is nothing like that, you know this. You aren’t him just because you feel more passionate about your wife then other men.”

Shaking his head, it was as if he could entirely ignore how hard he still was against you. “One of Eurons men said something to me after they took you. That they were surprised I hadn’t locked you away in a tower so other men wouldn’t touch you.” Just as you had begun assuring him with a soothing comfort that someone else saying it didn’t mean anything, did Jon cut you off with something struggling inside his own self admitting it. “They aren’t wrong.” Pulling back to look you better in the eye, he was as intense as he was bright in his eyes looking down at you. “Sometimes I do want that. Tie you up, lock you away. Anything to stop the world always trying to take you away from me. Hide you away from everyone else because I don’t know how else to protect you.”

The words he said were one thing, yet another was who he was. Had Ramsay spoken such words to you, if Euron ever did now, you’d be filled with that very terror of a past you had only seen in dreams of nonsense. Yet, not a shred of that fear existed in you looking at Jon. Anything that which would terrify you with other men, Jon was the exception. Perhaps it was the wrong way to encourage it, but you were nothing but genuine. Thumb running over his cheek. “And I’d still love you.”

One leg still high on his hip, Jon nearly tore at your dress. The fabric ripping at a seam along it’s edge as he yanked it up, shoving your other leg wide. Both of you nearly on one side of the bed more to the point it almost obscenely hovered in the air with nowhere to go. Jon didn’t bother undressing any further, the hand on your leg moved to your hair only long enough to force you up to his lips in the same moment he pushed deep inside of you.

The kiss hardly gotten off the ground when he pulled back, a snarl growling from him as he sunk as deep as he could inside of you. The stretch had you gasp, but also a bit of pain mixed in. You weren’t nearly as wet as Jon would’ve prepared you to be, and yet that pained burned inside your core with something in need. Twisting and turning like a coil, as if however you were now, was all you truly needed to take such a thick size.

Forcing your leg higher up his side, he left your hair to hold open your other leg wide. Dark eyes stared down at you, barley even blinking as he took no time to build you up. Pulling only halfway out, Jon roughly thrusted back inside of you, drawing a blatant cry from your lips, head falling back against his pillow as he did it again and again.

Your leg hurt from how wide and strained he held it wide, but his cock sunk so deep every instance, and yet your already tight walls clenched more and more around him begging not to leave. The pain bled into your veins, floating across your body in a sting and yet the growing wetness you covered him with masked the part of it which would be too much. Your heart floating inside of you as it raced to seek out breath your lungs did not have.

Jon so roughly pounded inside of you, staring down with dark eyes near black and a grunt trapped in his chest the more and more he went. Harder and harder no doubt tears had welled in your eyes, the sight alone drawing a growl out. “Fuck..”

Pushing your leg on his hip wide against the other side of the bed, Jon let both go as he reached up to your dress. The laces attached to the front hardly making it to halfway undone before Jon roughly grasped at the fabric and just tore it with a hiss. Hovering over you more, his eyes stared down now at your breasts moving as much as he fucked into you with force. Were his own clothes not in the way, the sound would’ve echoed off the walls and out the window for any to hear. Husking out as he dragged his eyes from your breasts to your eyes again, “I know they’re still sensitive right now,” One again Jon grabbed your legs, kneeling up straighter as he shoved them wide again, ignoring any pain the stretch might have put you in because he was so utterly deep inside your soaking cunt. “The way I love you isn’t normal, I know that. It never has been, but I can’t change that and I don’t want to scare you away.”

He could not do this as he dragged against your sensitive walls each slide of his cock deeper and deeper as if you were designed by the gods to fit him in perfection, created after Jon so that you could be made to fit everything about him and only him. That maybe you had always existed for him, it was always him your purpose was supposed to be, and death only intertwined you both together in a way that would never separate that connection again.

Wrapping a hand around to the back of his neck, your eyes hooded, lips parted as small noises of need kept leaving you as the sound of how wet you were each time his cock slid inside of you filled the air beyond your need of sound. “Never,” You had so little air to give and it all drenched into your voice like a siren in his ears. “I belong to you, I’ll always belong to you..”

Truly, it was something of a fight. The man inside of Jon desperate to kiss you and assure you that he’s always belonged to you too, but the animal in him, the predator pounding his cock into your walls which never once even thought to resist him, said something much more possessive. One which spilled from his lips, hardly even noticing to Jon that he said them aloud. “The moment I laid eyes on you, you belonged to me, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me. Anyone.” Rambling further, Jon shifted so that he could stay atop you, mounting you as your feet pressed against the furs at each of his sides, arms wrapped around him as he held your face in his neck by a grip on your hair, the other grasping at his headboard, the leverage forcing his cock roughly inside of you to the point Jon would later be able to see his own nails having carved into the wood. “You were born for me, made for me- fuck I’ll never let you go,”

Neither of you really heard what he said, Jon pounding so deep inside of you, the feeling no doubt going to make standing delicate. You knew already you would be able to feel his cock sliding in and out of you so perfectly until he finally would fill you again next. Jon hid in your hair as he held you to hide his neck, your words somehow sweet and soothing as if he had spoken nothing terrifyingly depraved. “I love you.”

Jon could hardly give himself the space to pull you back to look at him before he captured your lips, kissing you so deeply that the second your lips even somewhat gave space he slid his tongue inside of your mouth. Brushing with a greed to taste you as he would anywhere else he wanted to feast, not even able to pull himself from your kiss long enough to say it back as he was so desperate too. He needed your lips more then he needed to tell you how much he loved you back.

Legs at his sides shaking, Jon could sense your end was racing towards you. Not as roughly, but Jons hips fucked into yours faster and faster. Forcing your orgasm sooner and sooner, he needed to feel you cum around his cock. Unable to even move back with his pace, you had no choice. Laying back in his kiss, legs spread wide and just taking it when his cock dragged again and again over such a perfect spot that you nearly tore from his kiss. Jon only pressed your head further into the bed to keep you to him the whine singing into his mouth.

One pound, another and another, rougher then the last if his skin was bare as yours, it would’ve sounded almost on the edge of violent. But sinking deeply, Jon never ceased even as his orgasm came over him during the middle of your own.

An ankle wrapping around his calf as if to beg him closer, you felt Jons cock throbbing with a growl vibrating against your front before you were suddenly filled with a hot feeling. Fucking so steadily in and out now that both of you had so thoroughly soaked your core, Jons seed spilled inside of you with thick spurts one after another as if to fill you as long as he was still hard.

None of it even slightly could escape, his cock so thick inside of you that he knew if he did this every single day, sooner or later your body would be ready to get pregnant again. Jon filled you over and over as your head grew dizzy even in his arms by the time his hips slowed. His cock still deep inside of you as your hearts raced. Jons head dropped, resting against your forehead, as you both barley were coming down.

If the gods were cruel, and they were, they had planned this just to humiliate you. But the guards weren’t at the door, and with it closed, that typically meant that you were likely in there. Guards stayed outside the door to protect the King, you preferred your own leave you be. So slipping in quietly, there was no mistakening what this was, nor the roughness of the scene having been walked in on.

The gasp of shock was enough, the sudden rise Jon moved from your front, but to wrapping an arm around your front to all but shove you to hide your bare form. His eyes formed in a significant glare automatically and hardly found it within him to ease up upon realizing what happened. His voice tore through your ear in a husk, a breathless rasp seeped with something that was much more detectable as anger. “Sansa-”

You hidden in his front, Jon could sense the humiliation within you rise at being caught, as if you had done something wrong. It was not the time nor the place, but Jon certainly didn’t want you feeling embarrassed that people knew he took you as such. He wanted to throw away that guilt women like your septa growing up had taught you to be ashamed of. But moments like this did not help.

Sansa stood still somewhat by the door with eyes wide looking at the fire by the wall. Her voice a clear high pitched embarrassment in a whole other manner but just as stammering of a strong wish to turn the time back a few minutes and knock first. “The door was unlocked,” Jon could feel you practically trying to melt away from this situation, your name being the next thing Sansa said. “I thought she was alone, I was looking for her.”

Looking down to you, and then trying to look to the other side where clearly the baby had been awoken by the sudden shift in the air and raising of voices. Jon knew there really was no hiding what she walked in on, a hand tucking himself back in as the other prompted you to move a bit, Sansa turning around now facing the other direction with a whirlwind of regret for just this once deciding she didn’t care to abide to boundaries.

She had no idea what was worse, walking in on her own brother having sex with his wife, or laying in bed in the Vale forced to endure her aunts insufferable screaming and grunting on her wedding night.

Already knowing Jon was modestly dressed, he mostly tied the laces of his breeches properly with a jaw clenched in tense frustration before grabbing something for you to wear. Turning you to face him as he slid the sleeves down your arms, his eyes sought out yours as he tightened the laces at the front. An apology ripe in his gaze for not locking his door. Though you would’ve argued that he hadn’t come in for that intent.

Turning you once more so your back was to him, Jon gently moved your hair to lay in front of you gathered to one shoulder, now doing the final ties at the back. His voice truly stern in a manner that sounded just like when their father was as frustrated with one of them, also using it as an indication she could turn back around. “What was so important you couldn’t stop to knock?”

Facing you both once more, it was clear now that a bit of the embarrassment had subsided in most parties, save for you Jon knew, considering you had just stood in a silence letting him take charge of the conversation. Once more, there it was, plain as day on his little sisters face a distrust that he hated that it conflicted with his own struggle inside presently. Her throat clearing a bit, Sansa stuck to a more diplomatic route then perhaps she had intended on the walk over, indicating to you. “I wanted to talk to you.”

To you both, Jon spoke for you as there was a large pit in your stomach feeling ill for being walked in on in such a manner that you were too embarrassed to speak, trusting Jon knew your words for you, which he did. To Sansa though, Jon was aware it appeared as if he wasn’t allowing you to speak for yourself. “About what?”

Eyes flickered between both of you, Jon finally finishing your dresses laces. Palms smoothing down your upper arms, an unspoken gesture to calm yourself down, knowing the whiplash of such an intense, unplanned encounter was not clashing well with having to shift to everything being normal without any time to come back down to your head properly. Sansa though, didn’t see it that way even if she chose to address on but glance at you as well. “There were just things on my mind I wanted to talk to her about.” Asking what things in a gruff manner, it did stand out to Sansa how much like their fathers short tone Jon reminded her of. “About Petyr.”

Jon read the lie and she knew it. She wanted to talk to you alone about Jon. But as unfortunate of a time as it was, he may as well get it out there. But not quite yet, or at least, not this specific part. Talking about Jon was too talking about Petyr Baelish but he was going to address one alone before the other together. Looking over your shoulder, your eyes turned to meet as if reading his mind seeking you out.

Leaning down, Jon pressed a lingering, but chaste kiss to the side of your head. “Do me a favour, go find where Arya and Bran are and bring them to Wolkans study.” Your eyes narrowed, the silence a question and his nod the answer, you knew it was not a dismissal. Asking if he wished for you to take the baby, Jon ran his hand up and down your arm more. “I’ve got him.” Hesitating as you were to walk passed, Jon picked it up. Your head was a mess no doubt, he had been rough and spoken rough and sending you away this soon was confusing your ability to reclaim your senses as normal. Pulling you back to him, Jon captured your lips in a small kiss, murmuring finally back, knowing only you’d hear it. “I love you.”

Nudging you to move, he could imagine the uncertain, tight lipped smile you attempted to give Sansa as she watched you walk out of the door. Jon moving towards his sons bed, he reached a hand down, pressing gentle against his front with brighter eyes and a smile hinting on his lips already calming whatever building distress little Eddard had picked up on in the room.

His tone was more commanding of authority then Sansa expected. It felt no doubt, more like she was speaking to the King rather then her older brother as he didn’t even look up from his son to speak. “We do need to talk about him, and you. All of us. But this needs to be brought out into the open.” She didn’t say a word. Jon lifted his head up to meet her eyes with a more serious narrowing then he just had before, prompting her to be the one to say it. “Say it. Whatever it is you’re thinking, Sansa, just say it.”

One could describe it as a stare off, nothing in the air between glares that were not the crackling of the fire and small tender sounds from the baby Jon stood beside. Grey and blue with something that had been brewing for days and days now. Jon had once tried to talk to her about this, but she wanted to argue, so he shut it down before it got out of hand. Then Sansa continued to escalate things by arguing with him publicly in front of his men at every chance. But this was something he wouldn’t ignore.

Jon had his insecurities, he held his fears of turning into the blood father he never wanted, but he knew without any doubt he was not mistreating you the way Sansa was painting him to be. He was certainly not using you to be King in the North.

By the time Sansa found the words to spit it out, both knew this would escalate again, and part of Jon wished he had told you to take little Eddard with you. Knowing he did not like losing his temper around him. But she now alone in the room, found the right time to say it in a very spitting manner. “I wasn’t brought up the same as you and Robb were, but even I know our father didn’t raise you to act like this.” Pressing her on what specifically, Jon almost regretted it considering how quickly he felt his temper flaring up as she said your name. “The way you treat her-”

Already Jons voice raised in an anger. “You mean the way I treat my wife?”

Sansa’s jaw twitched, something he knew what she was trying to not say but he could see it clear as day as she talked around it. “I’ve known her almost as long as you have, you know. You’re not the only one here who cares about her well being.” Jon had interjected, something to the subject of he’s never claimed otherwise but Sansa had other idea. “No, you haven’t. I’m claiming it.” Pressing her again on what, “Claiming you don’t really care about her well being.”

Keep it pushed down, Jon thought. He truly did not want to get this angry at his own sister but bringing you up was always going to be a subject that had Jon a bit touched. Through an even tone of gritting teeth did Jon force himself to not let the worst of his impulsive temper get to him. “No offence, Sansa, but you have no idea the thing’s I’ve done to protect her. To keep her safe, to take care of her.”

Stepping forward, Sansa waved dramatically over to the bed were the fur was clearly still rustled by specific activities as she too raised her own voice. “By what? Pinning her to your bed so she can’t leave like you’re a dog?”

Not to her fault, but Sansa naturally had not a single clue why Jon stared at her in quite an enraged manner that spoke a little more surprisingly to her, that Jon was withholding something quite serious inside. His words low and carefully chosen as he spoke them slowly. Taking his hand from his sons bed, hoping he understood Jon didn’t want that anger near him. “The way I spend time with her, isn’t for you to start speculating over. You walked in on something you shouldn’t have, and you’re the one assuming things without having any idea what you’re talking about.”

Moving closer to meet her more in the middle of the room, nothing of their glares changed, save that Jon held an eerily unblinking stare towards her as she spoke. Now attempting to match his volume at a minimum. “The last time I saw you, you were leaving for the Wall after we both watched her marry Robb. Then I finally come home after Robb’s dead, I find out she’s alive, and you’ve left the Wall to come here, call yourself King, and marry her.” She was smart, leaving the fact of giving you a child was part of her original issue, but pressing that with the baby in question in the room at least to her, felt like an inappropriate part. “And everytime I see you with her, you’re always all over her. Trying to seduce her. What am I supposed to think?”

Breathing deeply in and back out, Jon reminded himself. If their father never spoke to him in that kind of anger, he wasn’t going to start doing it here with his little sister. But Jon also had to be careful what he approached, and how to unweave this web of endless falsehoods that had been placed into her head about him. “The only times you’ve seen me with her in that manner is when you’ve walked in on it, or spied on us when you knew you weren’t supposed to.” It said a lot to Jon that she had no rebuttal to that. “You may not understand my relationship with her, but that doesn’t mean you get to start judging me for it without any context. I can’t tell you what to think, but I will tell you that jumping to the worst conclusion isn’t fair. It’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to her.”

Motioning to her almost as if he were talking down an animal, Jon continued before giving her a chance. “If you think I don’t know what he’s been saying to you, you’re wrong. I know exactly what he’s been telling you about me.” Asking more on the quiet side how he knew, Jon let some of that anger go. More wide eyes pleading with her to just listen to him about this for once now that they were both adults. “Because people have been saying those things about me for my whole life. I’m a bastard, a walking reminder of sin and lies all because of a birth I had no control over. Highborns get told to look out for people like me, because I’ll just seduce and manipulate someone into giving me what I want. People hear what my surname is, and judge me because they already decided I can’t be trusted.”

If it was guilt sitting on Sansa’s face, he didn’t go out of his way to point it out. Nor how she remained rather quiet in her slow formed attempt at any kind of fair retort. “You’re my brother, I do trust you-”

Jon didn’t yell, if anything his voice lowered to more of an exasperation, something tired and knowing and finished with hearing that over and over. “You don’t. If you trusted me, you wouldn’t be standing here accusing me of using the woman I love for a title I never asked for.” Sansa blinked away multiple times whatever she was considering saying. “I can’t change what happened, or what Robb decided. I can’t even tell you why. I wasn’t there.” Your name came next from his mouth. “But she was. And instead of asking her why she and Robb did what they did about his crown, you’re blaming me. And choosing to accuse me of using her for my benefit, when I’m the one who owes everything to her. Including my life. I’m sorry you’re hurt, and I’m sorry you came back for something you didn’t know was already decided could never be yours.”

Closing the gap between them, part of Jon wondered if his sister had always been this noticeably tall. They almost didn’t even stand eye to eye, in fact she was a breath taller now. Or maybe she always was this tall, but too he wouldn’t have known that. Before this past week, Jon wouldn’t have been able to even say the last time he and Sansa spoke just the two of them. Jon felt like he didn’t even know her, but he had no way to even try as long as she was ready to paint him out to be something he wasn’t.

In truth, it was likely the most honest Sansa had been since that night she sought you out by the glass gardens, even if it seemed not even Jon knew of that night. You had kept it to yourself as long as she wanted it to be just between you. But here of all places, Sansa let herself just say what was truly on her mind. “Sometimes I don’t now if I really came home. Or if I’m still just a liar doing whatever Petyr tells me because I don’t know what else do to anymore.”

Head shaking the slightest, Jon stepped closer as his tone lowered. Were he to ask in that moment, Sansa could’ve pinned exactly who Jons demeanour reminded her of so vividly it took her off guard.

“If it must be done, I will do it myself.”

The exasperation and defeat once the anger had simmered out, realizing that nothing was as simple as he had thought it would be, and how no matter what being said or done would hurt her, her father never stood forth to kill Lady because he wanted to. He did it because allowing an outsider to so strongly dictate what happened in his family was not something he’d allow. She had rarely considered how much of their father Jon was like, but in that moment, it was like looking at a darker haired version of Ned Stark.

Speaking softer, but still with that heavy weight behind of something bigger then just this argument weighing him down came through. Jon only hoping some of this was sinking in over the words of people like Littlefinger. “I know you’ve been through too much, you, Arya, Bran, all of you lost your chance to still be children after father died. But you’re still a Stark, and you’re my sister. Winter is coming and something more dangerous is coming with it then fighting over who gets to be crowned what. But I can’t even try to protect you from that, or anyone if you keep doing this. He’s not helping you because he wants whats best for you. He wants you to think I’m using her, to hide the fact that he’s using you.”

Eyes wider, something more human in them then he’d seen in days, or perhaps years in her. The voice speaking nothing like the woman who came back, but much more the naive girl who left years ago. “I don’t know if I’ve ever trusted him, but I had no choice.”

Jon was firm, but still that familiar comfort she recalled in their father as Jon held her arms to focus her to look at him properly. “I won’t tell you what to do, but before you decide what you really want, you need to hear the truth. The full truth about who he really is. He’s a dangerous man-”

“I already know.” Looking up to Jons confusion, he could see something much like what he felt just then. A truth that she hadn’t seen coming, but this time he was the unknown party. “I know he’s dangerous. And I know why.”

As it turned out, Sansa’s why was not anywhere near close to yours and Jon why.

Sitting at the head of the table, Sansa had relayed the story. Arya, Bran and Jon all taking it in with the same understanding between them, and the same questions of why. The day Joffery had been poisoned, Ser Dontos whisking her away to something he called safety. Only to get to the ominous ship and slowly put together the truth of what Petyr Baelish had done and the lengths he went to frame it otherwise. Maester Wolkan helped direct the discussion, he and Jon both sharing the same glances of trying to piece together where this all fit into what they already knew. “He had me keep the poison without knowing it, and already knowing he was helping me escape he must have known too they’d blame me.”

Arya leaned forward with numerous questions of her own, the present one being the same on her brothers minds as well. “But if they arrested Tyrion Lannister right away, then he would’ve also assumed they’d blame him, since you running makes him look more guilty.”

“Like he was covering for her to escape.” Jon added of his own, his own eyes you felt glancing to you at the other end away from everyone else. Your pacing had gotten to the point you needed someone to take the baby for you because now you were the one who couldn’t settle. Something was eating at you this entire story.

You could believe Petyr Baelish had the resources to kill Joffery, and you knew why. It was the same why to the question of his betrayal of you and Ned Stark that day in the throne room. A man with seemingly no motive is a man they never expect. Until you thought darkly, until he plays that card too many times.

If your time with the Seaworths had taught you anything about gambling, and gods know Ser Davos’s eldest son Allard certainly spent much time teaching you to gamble when out at sea, you knew the best cards could only ever be played once. Otherwise the pattern be recognized too often. How many times now had Petyr Baelish played that card of feigning ignorance of his own betrayal. First yourself and Ned Stark, tricking Catelyn into betraying Robb, betraying Sansa herself by lying about his involvement in the attempt on your life.

But there was one element that kept picking at your brain. One person that came up again and again in Littlefingers lies and something stood out to you without knowing what. Your palms under the wrappings almost felt as if they were bleeding again, the feeling of the blade Catelyn fought against to save Brans life. The events played after were ones no one was left alive here to know but you, you and-

The moment the thought came to you, your head rose up slowly. Something washing through your veins in a realization so stunning you hadn’t even felt it’s cold take over the room and direct attention to you.

Your lips parted the moment it you regained your senses to focus on it, and yet the very second your eyes looked to Brans, to neither of your controlling, did yours and his both turn white.

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