#something deeply wrong with these two they should never be separated

[wyrmwright]

between a rock and a hard place

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

The Trials of Resurrection

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

Length: 34.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, insecurities, jealousy and possessive tendencies, smut, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, anal, m/m/f threesome (no m/m interactions)

Notes: How this came about I have no idea. This is a side story of what if Robb had been resurrected later in the main story. Don't ask how he comes back to life, I don't know pretend it makes sense. Series Masterlist Here

“At least one thing about our Queen hasn’t changed around here.”

Your eyes barley even twitched, let alone flickered up to look at the voice of the approaching figure. All you had heard for the better part of an hour had been the flickering of fire and the scratching of ink against the paper as you worked. The peace and quiet around you for so long had felt like a foreign concept in ways you truly had never once envisioned. Much of your life felt like that now.

Sighing deeply through your nose, you barley had even strayed from your writing whatsoever as you responded loud enough for you to be heard with your back to him. “If you mean how much paper work is involved in my day to day, then yes. Very little has changed except now I do it in the cold instead of the heat.”

The laugh was short and more like a bemused huff, but as he took a seat on the adjacent side of the desk you worked at, your eyes finally flickered up for a mere moment. An eyebrow raised at his still knowing expression before sighing deeper and returning to the page in front of you. “And you doing it in here, all the way on the other side of the castle is just a coincidence?” Your jaw clenched, eyes narrowing an an annoyance that you were so easily known by him. “I thought everything was going well.”

Your voice was low, and a bit on the heavy side saying more then you wished out loud. “Everything is fine. I simply have work I need to get done.” The moment he jested that you meant the work both in question would tell you that you didn’t need to do for them, you nearly dropped the quill in your hand onto the page if not for the splatter ruining what you had already done.

Some days now it was beginning to feel as if Theon knew all of you way too much at this point in your new lives. All three of your new lives.

“Feels like you should be happier then ever with this arrangement.” Muttering low under your breath that it was more complicated then that, Theon shrugged a shoulder. Leaning back into his chair with narrow eyes you knew were trying to figure something about without asking directly. “Alright. I’ll rephrase. It feels like everyone but you has gotten used to all this.”

That had you hesitate. Your eyes flickering up with a wider more genuine glance before darting back in front of you, that time both of you were well aware you were attempting to push away what you both knew was the looming point overhead of this discussion. “Well, if one were to begin adding up the strangest occurrences in my life, I’m not sure this would make it close enough to the top to stand out.”

Was that a lie? It felt like a lie. It all felt odd and wrong in your head. A world you now lived in as if you awoke one morning in the wrong life. Going to sleep one night, and in the middle you had been plucked right from your world into another. Close in matching and all the same but one detail which had the rippling effect of rattling out of place all which you finally thought made sense going forward. As if back in the world you fell asleep in, those were still seeking you out wondering how you disappeared and desperate to bring you back when you did not understand how to tell them you were in a world of a warped mirror of that same one.

It wasn’t as if it were a nightmare. No, not at all. But confusing, and one which left you stuck in the middle feeling as if you both were being torn in two separate directions. The other being your fear that your torn sides were harming the feelings of each separate one tearing you back and forth when that was never the intention. They knew that, but you also did not really know how they came about the arrangement that this became.

They had discussed it themselves. Both knew you well and neither wished for you to leave behind the memory of one trauma for the others so called selfish wants, but also did not wish to simply scorn the other with keeping what they once or currently have. You hadn’t slept that night, but in truth you wish you did. You hadn’t slept much at all since as well. For one reason or another, but this time was unique to the nightmares which normally acted as the source of your plague.

By now you simply went along with it, accepted it. You left the squabbling about it between them, but in times you just needed quiet was always when that doubt and questions came through you. In that silence you never seemed to get anymore, did the pricking inside your mind speak of things you did not deserve and would eventually ruin. None had given you reason to think it was heading in such a direction and yet you sat there thinking it. You always did when you were alone anymore.

What the cost was to either of them, and if the true plague was you for engaging in this plan created only for your sake. Without you there was no need for a plan, there was no need for the back and forth and tearing apart. No need to have caused what you cause and they simply could’ve existed in a better peace and not a sight of the issues which came thrown towards them. There should’ve been nothing but relief and happiness, but instead you stood in the middle offering the path of strife and conflict no matter what they argued wasn’t there.

You knew it wasn’t easy on either of them, and you couldn’t stop sitting there letting that self hatred flood you with a deep, impending guilt for being their source of harm. Theon had sat down with the words on his tongue still calling you a Queen, but you scarcely felt it anymore. A Queen shouldn’t have allowed this such a problem to come to pass. You wished you had said no to their proposal, you wished you had told them to go back and talk it out until a true solution was found that did not pit them against each other. You wished that you had just let them talk it out, while you slipped away into the dark and not returned. Allowing them to reunite without you there to poison the water by standing in the stream both their separate paths connected into.

Leaning forward, both forearms resting across the wooden surface did Theons brows narrow at you with his voice lower but with a sincerity tinged in an actual worry that time. “They don’t resent you for any of this you know.” Your hand paused in place as if to keep writing but the muscles froze as your heart picked up in a nerving manner. “They’re both doing what they think is best beacuse they care about you. There’s no reason to blame yourself, they’re men they knew what they were getting into when they decided-”

Without any regard for what you had even been working on, the topic slipping from your mind rapidly, you let the paper ruin as the ink scribbled meaninglessly across the page when you tossed it down. Pushing up from where you sat, you gave Theon what he knew was a half smile that was stilted and polite for the sake of it alone. “We both have other things to attend to then to sit here and talk, I’m certain.”

You didn’t even hear what he had said as you swiftly made your way, the need to not be followed nor bothered increasing as you walked the more silent corridors as evening begun to fall on Winterfell. You didn’t want to hurt either of them, that was the problem. But either choice you made, going along with what they came up with for your sake or leaving entirely to rid your presence as the only true problem of the equation was still harmful. It still hurt both, and all of it continued to be your own fault.

The tea sat steaming and warm in front of you, but your eyes still looked at it wearily.

“There’s nothing to worry about in there, your Grace. I assure you. Only simply herbs meant to soothe the body into a more calm state.” Your eyes flickered up to Maester Wolkan, whom only had a small smile come over his features as he sat at the seat across from you. The smaller table in his study sat by a window, closed and sealed for the winter storms, but small candles lit across the still reflected in the glass, making it appear brighter then the time would suggest. “I ask you trust me, if I could get away with giving you something stronger to accomplish such a task more effectively, I would have done so long ago.”

Your laugh as nothing more then a huff in your throat, but gently picking up the small cup the dark liquid sat in, you gently blew the hot air away just enough to let a small sip warmth the inside of your mouth and the scratching feeling as it trailed down your clawed throat. A deep sigh left you, eyes closing for as long as it took to move such a need for air before letting yourself have another smaller sip.

Setting it down, you had glanced up to Wolkan with that trepidation of a look you had appeared at his door with. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to say any of that to them, without making it all worse.”

Tilting his head a bit, Wolkan’s tone was light but also held a firmness which made him easy to convince yourself to listen too on matters twisted in your own head. “Now, what part of everything you’ve just told me is something you think either would want you to think, let alone try to convey to them?”

Brows furrowing, your head jilted back a little not at all grasping where he had been heading. “I apologize, you mean to say my second suggestion is the one I should-” Cutting you off with a much more stern tell of no, your shoulders deflated as you reached once more for the hot liquid. “It isn’t a completely unreasonable thing to-”

Again, Wolkan had much respect for you and your title, but little care to foster the darkness in your mind which all knew could fester as quick as could be. “Did the last time you ran off without notice end with positive results?” Your eyes met his, only to drop them flatly. Bringing the cup back to your lips, you mumbled into it as if to hide your words that it wasn’t the same thing. “It is, I am afraid. You think the opposite party is upset with you, you decide leaving is better then living in the delusion that you are a burden and not have a single idea what chaos such actions committed by yourself will leave behind for their own well being.”

Muttering once more into the tea, you at least felt a bit more of your muscles relaxing better then the almost painful agitation the tenseness in you had put them in for hours. “So what is your wise advice in place of my own foolish ones?”

“Everything is still relatively new, it needs time between everyone to get used to it. To let things settle into place and it will get easier the longer it goes on without adding to it with your guilt. A guilt, your grace, I assure you neither wish for you to feel.” You knew Wolkan had a good point, but the self hatred flowed through you like lava burning in the depths of a volcano. Do nothing was what he was saying, do what you’ve been doing for days, weeks now. But simply pretend as if it was not bothering you in the fear it was pushing each away from one another.

New life was granted to you, then him. That did not make sense to either of you in a comprehensible manner of possible, but it had and you both had been bonded because of it even beyond the love shared already. But now? Now it was too granted to another, and you had no idea how to contend with the contrast of both right in front of you, and not be in the way of their own time together they never had the chance to as the proper men they became.

Some nights you lost track of which it was, of who had who and you would simply find the one you meant to because the other made themself scarce so they did not have to see any of it. Both of them hated your time with the other and subjected themselves to a lonely night whenever it was not theirs and again, you hated it. Their solution was making them miserable, but you knew neither would have any of it if you protested it right now.

Though you were fairly certain you could put together whose night it was if it took you longer then normal to come across either of them. At this time of the evening as the people around the castle begun to settle in for the night, were you not already by Jons side he’d have long found you himself before you even had to consider looking for more then seconds of where he was without you.

Turning the corner though, there was the other. Leaning back against the table of the meeting hall, the lack of daylight sun hid away what of the red normally could be seen highlighted in its bright rays, leaving the dark brown you were accustomed too, curls luscious in a way you knew he woke up with much to your own dismay. No doubt his personal taste seemed to naturally match that of Jons, since aside from colour, the coarse and thick feeling of both facial hair matched the same style.

The only major difference was in small details. Still did Jon prefer darker greys and blacks contrasted to the browns and dark blues you were looking at now. Jons curls sat long, and could either be found shrouding his profile from the side from partial view or pulled back entirely. Instead of the dark brown curls you looked at sitting shorter, never needing much work at all, always the strands sat in the exact same way. He looked familiar in every way to the last you ever saw of him, but it wasn’t until he spoke and that warm voice made you, for a moment, forget what you had been worried about.

“Is there a reason you’re standing there watching me like a girl with a crush?”

Your eyes fell a bit amusingly flat as you slunk through the open door. Putting away the blade he was sharpening on his side, the wet stone being sat on the table behind him did he watch with bright blue eyes and a smirk for you to come to him as he always knew you would. Your voice a bit on the air of defensive and childish. “I think I’ve long since passed that phase of my life.”

Raising an eyebrow, his playful smirk grew more into a bright, charming grin as he was as amused of you as if no hint of the overcast in your head was weighing on you for hours before right now. By the time you got close enough, he reached a hand out. Yours delicately placed in his as he pulled you with grace in front of him.

Hands moving to your hips as he stood up straighter, your own trailed along the leathers across his chest with a light sigh to get out the remainder of tense feeling which may give yourself away. His tone however, gave you new thoughts to focus on with a different kind of sigh. “The way you’re looking at me, it never left.”

Yes it seemed new life had granted Robb Stark with an insatiable need to playfully mock you at any moment.

Attempting to childishly pull away, Robb only tugged you back without any care of the force as his grin shined bright. The gentle mutter towards you that there was nothing to be ashamed of was meant as a teasing jest, but you knew it struck at something inside of you. Unstable the mixture of shame and guilt, but before you could allow such things to flare up again, you merely swallowed as your head tilted. As if to indicate that he had a point, whether or not you actually believed him.

Gently calling our your name, Robb leaned down a bit as if to catch your eyes with more of a scrutinizing gaze inside his own. “Whats going on in that head of yours?”

It was too early, Wolkan had said. Give it time, don’t weigh either of them down with any of this before it had a chance to fall into that of a routine. Shaking your head, you let your fingertips dance up behind the back of his neck, the feeling of his curls grazing along your skin that you could toy with. Your smile was not quite bright, but hopefully as believable as it could with the comforting feeling of being so close to him again. “A long day is all.” Without missing a beat did Robb begin saying that you didn’t need to do all of those things when you cut him off with a more indignant feeling behind it. “Don’t you start. I get enough of this lecture from Jon as it is.”

The smirk on Robbs face twitched to life in front of you. “Perhaps between the two of us, we can actually make you listen for once then.” Almost letting your eyes roll to the side, knowing he could pick up the tinge of playfulness within the gesture behind the annoyance. Running his hands along your waist and hip firmly, you could feel him indiscriminately pull you a bit closer. “Now, are you sure that’s the only thing on your mind?”

You nodded, and in a way you felt bad. Robb returned to you and found a stranger, a hollow shell of the woman he loved and no longer could he pick up on the new, very well hidden details that one may recognize as lying. You didn’t want to blatantly lie to him, and it did not sit well in your stomach to do so, but you wanted to avoid hurting his feelings at all. So, you could at least hide the degree of it from Robb for now. Pretend what was bothering you wasn’t and he’d not bring it up again thinking for now there was nothing more on the matter to look into.

Pulling you into his side, Robb was just as he used to be in that way. Keeping you so physically close in front of anyone with not a care about the public display of the affectionate nature within him. Sensing however his eyes on you, you looked up to the side at him with the question of what coming from you in an amused way he was so closely looking at you without stopping his feet. His answer was at least, something amusing rather then painted over with any hurt of jealousy. “Does he purposely use the same oils on you that he does to wash his hair?”

Eyes narrowing in thought, you mostly shrugged the free shoulder not pressed to his side. “It’s not impossible. I don’t think I’ve really noticed what he uses.”

A grunt came from deep in Robbs chest, pulling you more purposely close so his hand wrapped around you could trail back to your hips rather then the more appropriate spot on your waist. You could swear you heard something indiscernible on his lips close to something of a curse no doubt towards the brother in question.

For your mind however, it did not come off as the sort of competitive jealousy it really was. Warped by the confusion and self doubt within yourself, you took it as a sign to stop letting it happen. If it was going to upset Robb, you’d ask Jon to return to using one that doesn’t remind his brother of him. There were a lot of little things like that to get used too.

Your day to day in Winterfell as a wife had never properly been with Robb, and you didn’t want to rub it in his face by not changing certain things to accommodate him or include him. You didn’t want to shut either of them out by being so blatant in front of the other, but it still was all you did. All you thought about for every hour of the day was whether or not you needed to do something different, or if you were reading too much into a certain reaction. Few thoughts came to you outside of this arrangement and it was quickly turning into a dark obsession brewing with an insecure self hatred.

Robbs chambers were always warm. He had rich coloured fabrics draped everywhere that soaked up all of the cold and kept it out of the room. It was the largest of the Starks chambers aside from the Lords quarters where his father and mother previously lived in. He preferred however, keeping you in here. The room as Robb had put it, muttering in your ear as he had been slowly pulling the laces of your dress loose one by one, that this was also the room he fucked you for the first time.

Even now, it was difficult for Robb to see passed it. Your time together as one in this room was only twice, but it also were your only times together living in Winterfell as man and wife before war and before..everything that followed war. Very often when the door would close, Robb did not hesitate to at least, indulge his eyes. Tonight being no different.

Before you could get far, Robb grabbed your hips and kept you standing in place, your back facing his front. His hands rose up, undoing the laces slowly but with a strong grip. Ensuring you felt everytime he pulled one to it’s loosest form and knowing eventually it would draw the fabric to the ground. The warm rumble of his voice matched his chambers, accent thick as the fabrics and furs and just as comforting in your ear too. Regardless if teasing was what it was doing. “I have a question. Did you have a hand in designing these dresses yourself, or was this sort of thing Jons doing too?”

Your brows narrowed, trying to think of what he meant in truth and only coming up with the most outright logic bound of an answer. “By the time he reclaimed Winterfell, I didn’t have anything. I had no possessions and anything I wore was what the Boltons gave to me to wear.” You felt for only a moment, Robbs hand tug roughly open one of the laces down your back with an unintended force of anger.

Coming back knowing Roose Boltons betrayal of he and you both was one thing for Robb, hearing what fate he forced you into after you came back was another. In truth, you did what you did with Jon. You told him far less of the worst of it, you didn’t want either being angry or guilty for something neither could change for two men long since dead now.

Regardless, you continued on to attempt to draw Robb back to the present. Away from a tormented past he could not stop not did you wish for him to dwell on. “Jon helped me acquire most of the things I have now, because I had barely the clothes on my back. And even then, the only things I even had before then were either what I could get from Castle Black, or what Maege provided.”

The fabric on your upper body begun to fall suddenly, intending to pool around your stomach had you not reached up to hold it against yourself. Robbs hands slid in front of you to undo the belt keeping it all up. You knew the moment his hands reached to your upper back and dug into the fabric as his nails tapped at your skin, he was giving you an order to let go. The dress falling in one piece to pool by your feet, the shift on you short, and a pure white with straps holding it around your shoulders thin enough little force could tear it.

Robb let his hands trail further, a free exploration behind you with his voice much more heavy then before, thick with a desire that all this time later, did not fail to shake your bones. “My brother has clothes made for you, and this is what he came up with? These pretty,” One boot tapping at your shin, indicating he wished for you to step out of it. Each word shaking with the two kicks it took from Robb to get the fabric away from where you stood continuing. “Weightless scraps of nothing? You didn’t chose these?”

It made sense he noticed it. The only dresses Robb knew of you to wear were before, much more fancy and ornate dresses which required far more steps and sometimes more then just yourself to even assemble them on you. Layers and steps none of them were so shameless save for the dress made for your wedding. You had not had a hand in making that either though, much like everything about your visit in Winterfell with the Kings Company, every part of how you were painted up and dressed was orchestrated by Cersei. You’d have chosen a dress much more heavy and modest were it not her choice what it looked like.

Other then that, you both spent most of your time at war. You couldn’t afford to dress like a lady out there and you both had gotten so very used to it as what you appeared like. This was much more what you used to dress like, but not quite as complicated in putting together as far as dresses went. Robb had different views of it then you did though. “Does he realize just about anyone could walk by and reveal how little it takes to see you nearly bare?”

Smoothing his palms over your shoulders, under each hand did you feel him hook one of the thin straps of your shift with a finger, but keeping it right there as if to let you know he could tug this off any time he wished. Swallowing roughly, your voice was on the edge of breathless as he kept you standing there for as long as he commanded it. “It’s not-it isn’t-”

Leaning over your shoulder, the scratch of Robbs facial hair ran down your jaw as his lips hovered over your neck. “Oh I know exactly what it is. He had you all to himself, why not enjoy every bit of it whenever he wants?” Very suddenly did both straps get pulled down your arms. The fabric of your shift falling with it as Robb moved from your neck to look over you from where he stood behind. A hiss in his throat came out as his hands spared no time roughly grasping at your ass, a gasp jolting you in place. Moving up to your ear with much more of a biting tone. “You’re the same no matter who fucks you. Just a good girl waiting to be told what to do.”

One hand circled around to your front, sliding down your lower stomach to your mound, fingers dancing across right above where you wanted but never even considered begging. Only a nod as if to just agree with whatever he said, no matter what it was.

The smile you felt as his lips ran down your neck was more sinister then it was anything. “Tell you to get on your hands and knees,” Sliding down his touch to your clit almost had toy jump despite the feather lightness he kept over it. The hand on your ass now grasping firmly at your hip, still a biting tone in your ear. “Tell you to swallow every drop my cock feeds you.” A little more pressure and your leg muscles felt tense standing there with so little despite such vivid images we could conjure. “I could tell you I’m going to gag you so you can’t whine at me when it’s too much, and what would you do?” The laugh that time was far more noticeably dark with purpose. “That’s right, you’d still let me.”

Pressing down harder, the pressure against your clit sent sparks through you, flying up into your core with a warmth that buzzed at you like a bee. Running tight circles, he spared no reason to build you up slowly, letting his free fingers tease down along your entrance as he smirked once more at how quickly he could work you up. Grasping at his forearm, Robb took the opportunity to pull you firmly into his chest, still fully dressed against how bare you now were. Each pattern tormented on your clit made you tense back into his support as the need filled you.

Barley finding the breath to let out your only thought. “Is that what you want tonight?”

Two fingers stopped their movement put pressed harsh against the bundle of nerves as he looked over your shoulder again. “Is what the thing I want? To gag you?” Biting down on your tongue you nodded, but Robb let his hand on your hip reach to tilt your head back in a stretch to better meet his narrow eyes as they glistened with something teasingly cruel. “Wouldn’t have to hear you go on when you pretend like you don’t have anymore in you. Nothing but muffled whines instead of your pretty begs telling me to stop when we both know you don’t mean it.” His other fingers toyed down in the wetness you could so easily coat them with should he give you more, but they were positioned in pause like a threat, or promise.

With Robb it could go in either direction.

Almost a plea came breathless from you as if to sweeten the idea he was already putting forth with honey. “You could do whatever you want, and I’d be powerless to stop you.”

You could almost see the way Robb would raise an eyebrow in question as his voice rattled deep. “You think you can stop me now?” You had barley opened your mouth to protest that idea in need when Robb proved his own point. Those two thick fingers sunk deep inside of you, sliding to the knuckle as he had so knowingly dragged them along the sensitive wall causing you to arch back into his chest. Robb only laughed. Your core burned as you knew your wetness would only increase the longer he stayed there without movement. Or with, truly. Either one. “There’s nothing you can say that will make me stop when I’m with you. You beg and beg and never mean it, beacuse all you really want is to be fucked, isn’t that right?” Biting down harder, your eyes fluttered closed as you nodded. His grip on your chin tightening as if to signal you to open back to the room. “If I tied you to the bed right now and gagged you, how long would it take you to start whining against it for me to touch you? I’m betting not long.”

Ever so slowly did Robb pull his fingers as if to leave you but just as slowly let them drag right back up as you felt that warmth fill you in a jolt against him with a desire twisting and twisting so suddenly. You didn’t give him an answer, you knew this was not one of those discussions he wanted an answer. Robb asked and Robb would tell, you had to stand there and be good.

“I could cover your eyes. Make you wait and wait.” The hand on your chin slid down, pressing against your stomach for a moment as his eyes blazed before running them back in tight patterns against your sensitive clit. “Would you even know whose cock it was if we made no noise? You’d be laying there, not a clue if I was fucking you, or if it was Jon. Or who knows, maybe I left my door open and anyone could come in and have their way with you. Laid out like a feast for every man whose ever looked at you.”

Your head felt dizzy, something coursing through your veins making you weak as all the blood pooled in your middle. The coil in you twisting and turning leaning back against Robb the only thing keeping you standing. Unsure if you truly knew what you were saying, it left your lips like a sigh of need anyways. “I, I can handle it, I promise.”

Robbs laugh was dark, almost bringing your hooded, fluttering eyes back into the room as he his fingers alone felt so good dragging themselves inside of you as you clenched around them. “If only Jon understood what a needy little whore he was married too. How many men do you think would have fucked you by the time he realized what I was doing? What you let me do? Two? Five? Give every one of my men out there whose ever fantasized about you a chance, only your cunt doesn’t cost them a single thing.”

You clenched around his fingers, one leaving your clit to nearly shove in more roughly beside as a third, your legs shook needing to move a bit wider to give him space. A hand on your waist steadying you did not leave your clit for long, right and rough he ran over the bundle of nerves in tandem to how his fingers steadily increased the speed in which Robb thrust them in and out of you. Your wetness coating his fingers and making it painfully easy for him to sink as deep as he could get each time no matter how much he needed to go rough to get passed how tight you were clenched around him.

Robb however, refused to stop. A shine in his eyes knowing his words were soaking you as much as his touch inside of you was. Moving up to your ear with a bite before muttering into it with a bass vibrating through your body. “How quickly do you think he’d kill every single man who touched you? Would he untie you, pick you up in his arms and whisk you away like a valiant knight? Or would he take you then and there when he was done? Refuse to let you cum and leave you that way at my mercy to punish you?”

Small gasps came from your lips, eyes firmly closed unable to handle the world beyond his touch and voice as your nails dug into his forearm. “Robb, please..”

Tight, rough circles against your clit stood no chance against how deep his fingers thrusted deep inside of you, how each drag against your soaking sensitive walls waved again and again a dizzying pleasure twisting your insides until they were ready to snap. Biting down on your ear with a husking mutter thick in the manner he forced such words out. “Please what? Please let my men use your cunt like a whore, or does my girl want to cum finally?” Your nod was not an answer despite how much you thought it was. “Be specific. Say what you want and you can have it.”

Begging quiet and breathless, you were trapped against the edge of a cliff as every muscle in your body tensed being kept right there to be pushed off at any moment. Your only words the rawness in your head could even really hear, you felt as if you barley even understood the filth he threatened you with beyond wanting whatever he was to do with you. But he asked, and he required one answer. “Please let me cum, please Robb, please I’ll be good..”

Resting more against your front, Robb barley had to do any work to push you off that edge. He never let up his fingers both dragging in and out of you and the rough tough against your clit as you snapped and your blood both heated and cooled over. That coil twisting as you pleaded his name but he just kept the same pressure against you through it. Wanting to gasp for air you did not have as the coil snapped and burst like stories told of stars in the night sky.

Low mutters of curses hissed in your ear as you clenched around him tightly as you came. Aftershocks ceasing only a little bit as he moved from your clit to push your stomach more to force you back into his touch against you. Slowing his fingers until you had nothing left to soak him with that time. Dragging them out, Robb did not ask with any kindness.

The hand jumping to your lip, his thumb forced your mouth open and he sunk his three obscenely soaked fingers deep into your mouth. A whine left at the deep pressure but he used your mouth like he would when sinking his cock into it. Muttering for you to suck him clean, your heart pounded at how much you wanted more, an unhinged need burning through you as your mind had yet to clear of its dizzy haze. Grabbing at his wrist did nothing, Robb only shoved them in deeper while his other hand sunk down to again grasp roughly at your ass.

“That’s right. Every last bit of it, you know the rules.” Eyes closed you nodded, accepting the taste you wished didn’t have to be you but took without protesting anyways. The mercy only came when Robb felt the hint of a gag at how deep he pushed them into your mouth and let you gasp for air, traces of your own wetness and saliva coating your lips, not that your mind even allowed you the time to care of how it looked.

Which to Robb, was deviously perverse. Not even anything but his fingers and still your voice came out a bit strained, “I- you’re still..I need to..”

The haze was hard to discern what you meant, but Robb knew perfectly well. Waiting a moment for you to even stand up straight, your legs shook a bit from the sudden force he pulled your orgasm out with. Turning you to face him, you looked a needy mess already you knew and chest heaved trying to use the air to ground you. But Robb cupped the side of your cheek and part of your jaw to tilt you to look up at him. Blue eyes dark and serious and no room to disobey. “Get this all off of me.”

You nodded, swallowing down the moan of need still shaking through you. Nowhere near as steady as you wanted to be, piece by piece did everything come off of Robb before you had too freed his cock, thick and long enough even if he wasn’t already hard as could be it would be impressive. Your knees was the easiest to take his boots and breeches off but staying there at least the floor did not spin in tandem to your clit begging for more. Robb had no qualm with filling the silence. “If I were nice, I’d let you have a taste. But does my girl deserve my cock in this mouth?”

Biting your lip for a moment as you inhaled through your nose, you found more then just a scrap of a voice of something sweet and pleading without being begging. “I want it, but I don’t deserve it.” Asking with dark eyes why not, you didn’t have an answer but what you know was the only answer Robb was willing to take. “I wasn’t good.” Again, unmoving, unblinking he asked this time how. Your hands sitting in your lap, nails digging into the skin of your other hand to not touch before allowed. That time he wanted an answer, but you hesitated. Wide eyed looking up to his beautiful vibrant blue ones and you didn’t really know what the correct answer was, but you didn’t want to give the wrong one or lie. He’d know if you lied here of all times.

Instead, he gave pity. A hand running through your hair before his thumb again traced across your lips. “Unless you’ve been begging my name when you’re with him, you’ve been bad for almost three weeks straight.” Biting your lip, your eyes cast downward. The need and heat within you and the wetness coating your inner thighs felt off compared to the shame and genuine guilt you knew Robb did not mean to give you. “And I know first hand, you aren’t doing that.” Tilting your guilty gaze up to him by your jaw, if he picked up on how genuine the shame appeared he did not comment on it. “You beg Jons name like you were born to, don’t you? Pretty little begs too, can barley hear them over the rest of the noise.”

Gesturing with a nod of his head for you to move to stand, he grabbed your hands and helped you onto your feet before capturing your jaw, pulling you up to look at his narrow stare of a greedy disapproval. “Tell me, does my brother fuck you he's some animal? Something to shove his cock into and fuck like it doesn’t matter if he breaks you? You know how rough I am with you, my love. So why are you letting him be the one to fuck you like you’re some cheap five copper whore in the brothel outside?”

Hovering over your lips, Robb’s voice was angry and yet you knew his cock almost leaked with seed as it throbbed heavy between his legs. “Robb, I-”

Shaking his head you felt his lips brush yours with every hot spitting word. “That isn’t your fault he treats you that way. But you’re not married to some brute in a whorehouse are you? You’re married to a wolf. To two wolves. So why doesn’t my whore of a wife get on the bed so her wolf can take her like she deserves?” You nodded, and Robb had the audacity to smirk. “Good girl.”

Striking eyes watched as you sat gently on the bed. Only for a moment did you have to think about it, with Robb, it wasn’t out of the ordinary. But you almost forgot this was what he liked in truth, if you willingly climbed on the bed moving into such a position with Jon, you know he would nearly yank you off it and growl at you not to assume you should be doing things like that just for him. But Robb?

For the wolf saying he was going to show you love, you knew it was pure dark greed as he stared at your ass. Hands and knees just the way he liked, climbing up on the bed one knee at a time, he ran a hand down your spine whilst grabbing the other hip firmly. “He ever fuck you like this?”

You weren’t really sure if Jon would want you sharing those specific details, considering the only times you both had ever been in this position, Jon had pushed you down himself to roughly pound his cock deep into your ass. Biting you lip as a shiver ran through you that Robb no doubt felt, you shook your head no, keeping it simple.

Not able to see his reaction, all you had was the pleased lightness hinted in his voice. “That’s right. I fuck you like this, I control if you even get to fucking move.” Sliding the hand on your spine down until Robb reached the back of your neck. Twisting around to grasp at your throat, the air coming through to your lungs gasping in shock at the pressure to slightly stop it. “I bet he doesn’t even know what it feels like to fuck you, knowing how tight you get for me when I don’t even let you breath right before you cum.” Letting go, Robb no doubt kneeled straighter as one hand left you as he kept you steady. “This is why you need me. He has no idea how what to do with such a slutty little wife. But I do.”

Before you even had the word to beg his name, did Robb not at all gently slide inside of you. Soaking around, your thighs shook at the deepness and the stretch so suddenly. Both hands grasped your hips, and Robb didn’t give you the thought to consider his worth of mercy. Sliding back out slowly, leaving only the tip still inside of you before he slid back in deep and just as rough. A cry left you as a growl left Robb.

Robb had to fuck you harshly just to get as deep. You clenched around him like you were still the virginal maiden he ruined on your wedding night. If he had a clue what a little slut he had just married, Robb would’ve not even considered letting you sleep that night. He’d have taken you every single way he could think off. Cover every inch of you with his seed and teach you how to take his cock nice and deep that very night.

Slamming his cock into you roughly over and over, grunts forced from him each time as the sound of his skin against yours echoed in the room, only driving him to go harder. He should’ve, he thought. Should’ve kept his new wife naked, make you get on your knees and keep his cock in your mouth until you could take his whole length. If Robb could go back to that night knowing what you really were, he would’ve eviscerated every purpose of prayer you gave to the Maiden in hours.

Cries left you easily, head half hidden in the pillow you couldn’t contain it, each smack of his hips into your ass, you felt Robbs length slide deep and drag against your walls with a meanness. Never letting up never giving you time to adjust to his roughness, the moment you tried to meet his thrusts, Robb forced you further into the bed. Now more on your elbows he had your ass higher in the air at a better angle to pound inside of you. Your lungs burned with no air to ease it, and your insides screamed as a coil twisted like hot metal. Each pound radiating through you with a white hot pressure building and building.

The sound was obscene. Each smack of his hips pounding inside of you and how they increased with speed as they did echo louder, but too were you soaking around him. The wet sound drawing guttural groans from Robb only prompting him to go faster, the faster it was the louder the sound played as music would in a feasting hall. Trying to cry his name you had no words out, but Robb had plenty hissing through gritted teeth. “Fill your needy cunt, then I’ll fill it again. Beacuse you’re so fucking needy aren’t you, my love? You need my cock inside you more then anything.” He watched you try to nod from how your muscles no longer were able to hold yourself up. “Oh fuck, you’re such a perfect little slut, a good girl with the sluttiest cunt a man could ask for.”

“Robb..”

Leaving a bit of the roughness behind, Robb increased the pace, the room louder and louder and much more violent sounding as he growled at you whereas you did noting but beg for him. “That’s right, let everyone hear whose doing this to you. Let my men know that no one makes you beg and cry like this the way I do.”

Again and again you cried out his name and each in tandem with the way his cock sunk deep inside of you. Throbbing as you clenched around him, tears so easily falling down your cheeks but nothing mattered as long as again and again Robbs cock filled you with such a stinging pleasure that you would feel even as you fell asleep.

One hand reaching down to roughly seek your clit, treating it rough through his fingers you gasped out something much more of a desperate sob as suddenly it felt as if the waves came crashing through the walls and inside of you. Snapping around him, cunt clenching so hard around his cock Robb had to return to something rough enough he had to grunt through each pound.

But he didn’t stop, a grunt turned groan of your name did Robb sink deep spilling warm inside of you, but all he did was yank you back the second you thought he was done. “I said I’d fill you twice, didn’t I?”

By the time he pulled out of you, you all but collapsed onto the furs. Leaving for only a moment, Robb returned prying your legs open. Shushing gently at your whines while he let a wet cloth run between you to clean you up. Climbing behind you, Robb tugged your back into his chest. Pulling your hair from your neck out of his way. His lips pressed down the path of your neck and back up to your ear muttering your name.

A hmm gentle in your throat as you snuggled back into the feeling of his bare body behind you, Robb pulled you closer if possible. “I’m going to take you one more time later, alright? You’ll be asleep, but I’ll be nice and slow just for you. I promise.” You nodded, finding comfort in his hand running along your bare hip.

“Anything you want, my love. Anything..” You were breathless and fading fast, but the press of Robbs lips hit your cheek before the world ceased to be around your slumber.

Those who were not used to such a sight considered it odd, but if one were to add up the total amount of people whom had not been long accustomed to this side of the pair, it was precisely one. Not that you had awareness of it to his side of things, but you were preoccupied. Locked in a discussion with Arya that early morning and had not seen the narrowing blue eyes which had tore themselves up from you to the just as watchful, yet angry grey ones behind you.

Bright hours of the sun rising up beyond the clouds, did you find yourself unable to go back to sleep. It felt as if something was missing, it had for this entire time. Not just the occurrence of Robb being back in your life, but you for every night since kept having strange dreams. They were hazy and unclear, often jumping from one ambiguous image to another. Sometimes surrounded by flames, others in a bright frozen cold but all of it was a blurry story your dreams were not forthcoming on.

But like so many nights, you had nearly startled yourself awake. Faint sounds of higher pitched cries rang through your head right before your eyes opened, as if something was calling to you that did not exist in the real world around you. The yearning for something close to stop the sound but you had nothing to articulate why it kept bothering you. It was only a dream, forget about it. So you had crawled from bed early, needing the sting of the cold morning air to shake it off and here you sat.

You were perfectly fine with laying it loose for the day, but the moment as you sat down did Jon follow into the hall not long after did your hair change. Whatever tenseness existed on his shoulders left the moment your eyes lit up looking over to him. Uncaring in front of Arya of all people, did Jon come up to you on your same side of the table. Not even sitting down, but leaning over as both hands tilted your head up and back so he could lean down to meet your lips.

A raspy mutter only for your ears, “You’re mine today.” Before connecting his lips to kiss you. Perhaps a bit longer lasting and deeper then he intended, only drawing back at the clearing throat of Arya as if to tell him to do this elsewhere. Pulling back Jon pressed a kiss to your forehead before comfortably sitting beside you close. Glancing up with an amused brow raised at this baby sister. “You’re welcome to leave.”

The small bit of bread in her hand was tossed at him with no regard for manners, Jon hardly moving out of the way with a smirking grin of his own as Arya used a tone much more overly exaggerated then needed. “We were having a nice discussion until you got here.”

Jon begun, without even thinking, to grab food for himself and occasionally tossing something to add to your plate. Hardly bothering to meet your eyes peeling over at him in a playful silent protest that he’d simply gesture with the fork for you to get going already. Himself not getting very far in eating on his own, you knew he had glanced to you more then once before he muttered in a lull of quiet. “You don’t normally keep it completely loose.”

Brows furrowing before following his eyeline to your hair, you shrugged, speaking between small bites you returned to. Keeping the story simple, no matter the scrutinizing eyes Jon could look at you with and see between the half lies. “I woke up early. I didn’t have much in the way of energy to be willing to do anything about it.” Arya piping up in an understanding tone thats why she preferred keeping hers on the shorter side from now on, much easier to handle by herself.

Jon however, looked at you for a long moment. A few bites of his food shoved into his mouth before he stood up, motioning for you to sit up straighter. Despite Arya’s curious eyes, you hardly thought anything of it. Standing behind you now, Jon begun moving your hair around into small braids, knowing exactly which styles you preferred and what your long length finally could allow him to do. Styles he hadn’t seen on you since you were both teenagers before you started cutting it shorter then most girls.

But here, he stood behind you doing it for you as if a normal task for a man called King to do for his wife, but neither you nor Jon thought anything of it. You wanted your hair more up, Jon wanted to run his fingers through your hair and always found an excuse to do so naturally. It was that sight walked in on that caused a silent staring between brothers as yourself and Arya missed it entirely.

Was jealousy the right word? It would be easy to put forth that a jealous man such as Robb Stark watched you with his brother and felt jealous, but it seemed reductive. Pinning his issue down to one single trait rather then an amalgamation of events and thoughts which were growing and growing. It was simply being a Northern man that made his difficult demeanor appear as if it were simply angry and cold. If any could see through it to what was going on, it was you, but the secret held between brothers was how much they kept it from you.

In their minds, they had torn you in two without meaning to do so. Two sides of your heart and neither of them were less then the other but things were vastly different now. Robb and Jon both had dived head first into what was to be done with their titles and kingdom between them. They worked well with each other, but they had been prepared to do so all their lives growing up. Work and rule at each others side and the two of them enjoyed it.

But you were something else. You were the rogue in the equation which threw everything off about it. Probably more then anything else did they attempt to find a solution, or a compromise that would least hurt the other, and most of all, prevent making it hard on you. Yet there posed something which had gone unspoken, but was impossible to ignore or avert ones eyes from. Over the passed weeks it was Robb who had noticed it’s extent. Of course on one side was you.

You had died with Robb. Side by side in betrayal you and him had left the world together. There was no way to turn a blind eye to the effect that had on you coming back. A year spent trapped within the grasp of the Boltons and you had little else to you but to obsess over the manner which you had never really been able to mourn that death. Yes you had sat in a cell alone for months, and spent many more in these very halls, but none of that was a life. You were not a person then, you were not truly alive then.

Thus no one could deny the impact bringing Jon back had on you. No one around you at any moment understood how that changed you. How it tethered you to him, made him your purpose. No one, not even you truly understood the degree to which you needed him. Jons new life owed everything to you, but your new life was nothing without him still there. And it was not just love it brought between you.

Robb was the one who could look at Jon and truly notice what was different. He was many things with you, but the one word he knew he had no reason to attribute towards himself, was controlling. Yes, he would take charge when necessary, but you were your own and he did not watch you as if to make sure you were doing what you were too stubborn to do for yourself. You were bad at taking care of yourself in unique ways, but Robb found little reason then and now to dwell so heavily on it beacuse if you needed help, he was there. You were your own person otherwise.

But Jon? As Robb sat down beside Arya and across from you, did he think to himself, that you being the one to bring Jon back, had made him a controlling man towards you. His eyes it felt were always either on you, or seeking you out, or his mind would obsess over you not being there. Always pestering you to do this and that. Watching what you ate as if you were a child who needed to be reminded to finish their food when that was never an issue you needed help with before. What were you doing, where you were, telling you outright when to stop beacuse he would force you to give yourself a break. Jon had a good mind for leadership, and somehow still held enough room for the other side of his head to consistently have something inside of him obsessing over you.

Of course Robb was still getting used to this new arrangement, but sending you off to Jon didn’t make him mad. It was something he had to accept, and he was coming to that point. Jon wasn’t. It did not take an expert to realize that Jon hated being away from you. Hated was almost too simple, he very clearly, utterly despised it. Robb almost wondered how little Jon was sleeping when you weren’t at his side.

There had been a morning not long ago where the sun had barley even been high enough that any light glowed inside the windows when Robb had slightly stirred awake. The door to his chambers closed and he was alone in the bed, and had assumed you woke early and slipped out for whatever reason. It wasn’t until later when you emerged seeming as if you had woken not long ago with Jon right at your side, did it occur to him.

Robb had his nights, but Jon’s night he claimed at the start of the day. Not saying a word but he had no doubt his brother had struggled to sleep without you, came creeping into Robbs chambers and gently scooped you up from his bed and brought you back to his, just so he could get some sleep with you beside him in the early morning. As if he needed you more then he needed anything else.

Watching now as Jon smoothed over the back of your hair he had done for you in a way he knew Jon personally liked, Robb caught his eyes again and the word came to him as strange as it felt to say about Jon of all people.

Possessive. Jon was extremely possessive of you and both brothers knew it.

“This is not the path, you know.” Glancing at you with a bemused smile, you knew he was avoiding answering what wasn’t even posed as a question. An exaggerated sigh left you alongside a grin you were unable to wipe off before he noticed. “It isn’t like you to keep secrets.”

Jon held a charming smirk across his face that brightened his eyes, but maintained a steady voice as if unaffected. “I’m not keeping secrets from you.” That time you were the one to raise an eyebrow with a silence demanding he explain himself. Jon though, was much more talented at keeping the ruse then you were. Taking advantage of the darker, empty corridor Jon leaned over to grab you and pull you in further to his side. One hand sliding across your hips and over your lower back keeping a hand pressed there on your spine. “Maybe I just want time with you to myself.”

You had meant it when you said it with such a casual tease. “You can have that whenever you want.”

Jon was quick though when he said what he said. “Can I?” Pausing mid step you looked over at him with lips parted slightly in question. Turning to face you better, he let the hand on your lower back encompass your hip as his other hand joined too. Your own reached forward, digging slightly into the belt around him keeping his weapons strapped to his side, but your fingertips at his front. Rasping low, Jon leaned down to catch your eyes. “When was the last time I had you to myself? Really had you?”

Opening and closing your mouth a few times, you ended up biting your tongue as your head hung slightly between you. There wouldn’t be any hiding Jon noticing the guilt festering within you, he saw everything with better clarity then you did. The excuse was hardly even an excuse, more just a rationalization to yourself. “I don’t want to be just leaving you alone.”

Tilting your head up to meet his gaze, two knuckles under your chin, Jon let his thumb reach out to stroke what of your cheek he could reach. A softness was in his eyes despite what you knew he must be feeling. “I know that. Doesn’t change that I miss you though.” Nodding, Jon only pulled you close by that same grasp before leaving a kiss lingering on your forehead. Pulling you in closer, Jon waited for you to wrap your arms around him before he did you. One around your back keeping you close, the other up around near your head like a protective measure as he pulled you into his neck by the back of your hair, murmuring into it. “We all have to get used to it, darling. I don’t want you upset by this and neither does Robb, but it’ll take time.”

Your voice was muffled, but he heard you without question. “None of this means I love you less.” Jon only chuckled, the hand around your back soothingly moving up and down a bit as you tried if possible to bury yourself in his touch more. “I don’t know how to do this. How to balance both of you..and without hurting either of you.”

The kiss left to the side of your head was gentle, as was his hand now smoothing down your hair, while his other hand stopped. “You’re not hurting anyone.” Your silence spoke of doubt, and using a grip of the back of your neck, Jon moved your head to seek your forehead once more. A kiss pressed before leaning down so his pressed to yours. The hand in your hair still smoothing along the strands. “You’ve been through enough, I don’t want you worrying about me and Robb. I’ll talk to him-”

Pulling back, your hands ended up on his sides almost meekly keeping him at bay. “No, Jon it’s fine. I should be able to handle this on my own.” Brows narrowing a little, as the painting in his eyes spoke of a gentleness seeped in worry. “I promise.” You both knew he would not keep you to that one, but he ran his thumb along your cheek anyways as if he was agreeing.

Leaning in closer, Jon nudged your nose with his. A low rasp murmuring in an entrancing manner for you to unconsciously lean closer into him. “Do you want to know the real reason I took you down here?” Muttering in a joke, you asked if it was beacuse he likes taking the long way out of being stubborn, but he only laughed gently. His warm breath dancing across your skin as he ran his hand down your hair at the side of your head, nudging your nose with his a little more as if to move you into a better position for what he wanted. “I took you this way, because I refuse to wait until tonight to have you to myself.”

Your eyes only fluttered open long enough for Jon to tilt your head up to a better angle, letting them return to closed the second he leaned down to connect his lips to yours. Soft and sweet he always kissed you with, no matter how rough everything else was, you could always count on Jons kiss being something that sent a floating feeling in your stomach awry. Just as he guided your lips to follow his lead, did Jon use his grasp at your hip to turn you.

Backing you up merely a few feet, he was gentle about how he pressed you into the wall. Cupping the back of your neck, Jon pressed up against you firmly making you have to tilt up even more to reach him. Your hands running up his chest and around the back of his neck. What of his curls you could feel from how he had pulled his hair all the way back did you toy with, your nails scratching at what skin you could manage.

Small nibbles to your bottom lip that went nowhere, soothing them with his kiss, Jon left your hip to cup your cheek and jaw, so front and back he had a hand to tilt you to his mercy no matter what. Down here nothing could be heard in such an empty area of hall, only the laboured breathing between kisses was heard along with whatever faint sounds you were unable to hold back. Each little cry of need or half a whine was let out into his mouth, to Jon it sounded and felt like you gifted him something.

Each cry from you into his lips were better then any music any could conjure for him. A creature of magic could appear before him, tell him he could have the best of song and instrument composed just for him and none of it would ever be better then what he could pull from you with his mere touch. Subtly shifting his knee out, Jon ever so carefully moved it so he begun dragging up the skirt of your dress until he could reach a hand down and snatch it.

Pulling it up to rest at your hip, your leg exposed somewhat to the parts dragged up your leg. One of your hand fell down to grab somewhat at his shoulder, as if that would be enough of any indication to Jon to put it back down to a modesty. No one was around, but you knew Jon. You knew someone being at risk of catching you both in such a position was never a true fear for him, not anymore. The times you had almost been come across in much more public places then here.

All of your time with Jon before was shrouded in the darkness. Never to be seen or heard from if he could help it, and when and where to withhold such behaviour was something you both had become somewhat of experts at. It was why being with Robb was so different feeling. He had not a scrap of reason to withhold what he felt where, and would be open with you in front of others. Yet he scantly even wanted men to be able to hear you, too jealous to choose if he wanted no one to hear, or for them to know what they weren’t getting.

Jon though, as he deepened the kiss, his knee pushed further between your legs now that the fabric was not so much in his way. Pushing you to widen your stance for him just the slightest, Jon kept it there to ensure you couldn’t get shy and close them again. His tongue ran over your bottom lip, and without any thought did you part them for him, only to be tricked. Pulling back enough Jon did, a more chaste kiss followed by a deeper and longer one each time, until he bit at your lip with more of a growl in his chest, both hands cupping your cheeks. The one with the skirt of your dress was pulled indecently high but he gave you no time to think.

Your gasp gave him opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, running along yours in a brushing of taste as your hands both gripped uselessly at his shoulders. Deeply did his tongue taste inside your mouth as if knowing just how long to keep you so utterly breathless before teasingly pulling back. Your lips naturally trying to follow as he parted from you, eyes closed and small strands of saliva still connecting you both as Jons dark grey eyes looked over you with a hooded greed within them. Lunging back more urgently, Jon pressed you harsher into the wall as your hands fell to his waist trying to steady yourself against him, but a moan leaving into his mouth only pulled a groan from Jon, pressing further into you enough that the layers adorning him shifted enough you could just begin to feel a twitch pressing further into your hips.

The hand not gripping the material of your dress cupped the back of your neck again to keep you against his kiss as if he were not the one who had pulled away. Dropping the skirt all together, Jon let that hand drift to your neck, down your throat and seeking the collar of the top of your dress. Unwilling to wait, Jon sunk a hand under the fabric without any care as he forced passed the tight squeeze to grope at your breast. A gasp flew into his mouth, but Jon only squeezed more firmly, seeking out your nipple and with little room to you, twisted and pulled at the small bud with a purpose.

His kiss biting into yours as he did so in tandem, his hips pushing further into yours, the growing feeling of his covered cock hard against you had a wave of feeling rush between your legs no doubt as he intended. Squeezing his sides, you tried to whine against him but Jon but harder, kissed deeper, and groped more roughly as if to put you back into your place, to just follow him. Which you so easily did.

Hands digging into the belt around him, Jon knew if you were worse behaved, you’d have made any move to have him do anything more. But you just let Jon’s lips press you into the wall, hand groping at your breast only for him to realize you would not disobey, you wouldn’t part from his kiss. Freeing your neck, Jon let go of the strands sifted through his fingers as he ran the other down, the collar pulled indecently down, without exposing you but enough that any who’d see if Jon pulled his hands would be able to tell anyways.

Not an ounce of shame existed in him. Kissing and biting at your lips as your chest as roughly treated in a way that had your own self arch up into his touch, you much more obviously able to feel the trace of his cock thick under his own clothes but he did nothing about it. Able to ignore his own need for as long as possible to get what he wanted from you, Jon was talented at that beyond what most women would ever discuss of their mens sexual prowess.

Twisting at your nipple enough you cried out louder into his kiss, Jon only pulled from your lips to roughly husk against them. “It’s alright, darling. I know.” Nodding barley, you tried to chase his lips, but Jon surged forward making the contact himself roughly. Yanking one hand out, Jon traced the length of your body down to your skirt once more before not quite hiking it up, but moving it to where he could seek your thigh underneath. Running smooth over your skin before hiking it up onto his hip, pressing them more into yours as you cried out against him more.

Fingertips running over the already damp fabric covering you, a frustrated growl left Jon as he gritted against your kiss. “Why do you even bother with them?” Not giving you a stuttering chance to find a real answer, Jon gripped the fabric. Tight in his hand as he pulled, more of a yank on them to strain it’s hold, his other hand leaving your chest so suddenly to meet on the other side as both hands suddenly and roughly ripped he material from where it hid your most exposed parts. All without your notice, did Jon quickly put both scraps into one hand, tucking it away on his person without any care for what he did or for such a perverse act of keeping them in secret.

Two fingers seeking out your clit, just as you nearly jumped from the touch, Jons other hand slid behind to grasp at the meat of your ass, forcing your hips forward into his touch more. Rough, tightly kept patterns he moved against the sensitive bundle of nerves with urgency, pulling from your kiss again to watch your eyes before dragging them down what he could see of your body. Yet his voiced while rough and raspy was more on the edge of gentle then you’d expect. “How many can you handle?” A question sounded through your throat as Jon caught your eyes with his dark ones asking for a seriousness. “How many times do you want me to make you cum right now?”

Your voice was meek but you answered honestly, as the brewing tightness inside your core flamed hotter and hotter in a twist as you felt more and more wetness coming from you as you looked into his eyes. “One?” Jon only shook his head with a narrowed expression. “Two?”

Much more firmly, he gave his own final judgment. “We’ll do three.” Your eyes closed, hanging between you as you bit your tongue, hardly concealing the whine in your throat. Down that same path into your insides and core did the coil within you twist. Jon letting your clit almost roll and get tugged on as if your breasts getting the same treatment, your breathing picking up as your lungs stung to keep up with your racing heart. Calling your name more rasping and thick in voice then you could handle, you barley could look up at him as his fingers worked you over as his other hand left the imprints of bruises where he was holding your ass. Fingertips digging into the plush skin with no shame. “Three now, and I’ll give you all the rest later. Okay?”

Your nod was not enough, he always demanded you make yourself clear to him on such matters. “Okay, I promise.” Jon only let out a bright but gentle laugh, muttering that he didn’t need you to promise but you leaned up to meet his lips before he could continue.

Closer and closer the waves flooded into you, but the waters were as warm as Jon against you. Your hands rushing to the back of his neck to cling to him, almost letting him shift your hips so you had to be more at his mercy. Rough and harsh he was on your clit but just the right amount of pressure did he give and that coil snapped outwards and cried his name into his lips with a perfect need. The feeling dizzying you as a tensity gave to each muscle and yet you never even thought to pull away as Jon let that hand on your clit slide down running up and down your wetness with a bite to his kiss.

With no mercy, did Jon wait until he could sense you had just begun to come down before sliding two fingers thick inside of you. Dragging against your walls pulling a cry that had you instantly drop your head down onto his shoulder as if to hide. Pulling you back up with a somewhat tender hold of the hair at the back of your head did Jon pull you back up to meet his eyes. A whispered beg of his name as you almost winced as he sunk as deep as both could go.

Not leaving you, but gently running his nose down the length of yours his voice was full of a needy heavy and distinct, yet spoke with a lightness of concern that struck at your already pounding heart. “Hey, hey, look at me.” Finding your eyes proper, Jon eased up on the manner which he was more slowly pulling them partway from you before even as slowly filling you once more, keeping you on a lightheaded edge but not pushing you. “Are you alright?”

Nodding, you tried to seek his lips but Jon kept you back with an ask of your name to be sure. Eyes closing as you sought your voice beyond the needing beg desperate to seep back into it before looking back at him. “I’m fine, I promise. You’re just..”

“A lot?” Your laugh was breathless, and interrupted halfway through with a small gasp as another quickly forming wave flowed through you. Your hands grasping at his waist now, a tighter hold trying to keep his stature and warmth crowded in front of you, as if Jon had any intention of going anywhere else. Tilting your head back up to Jon, his lips were light and chaste against yours despite the racing in your blood of what he knew he was making you feel like. A burning fire in the dead of winter.

Leaning you more back against the wall in a more relaxed manner, in the back of your mind you could sense that Jon was changing tactics for your sake. Whether or not he believed you were fine didn’t seem to matter in if he said it. Going from a blaze of urgency to a softer, more easing and guiding manner he clearly had decided you needed to be taken care of in a more gentle manner. Days you had been taken by both wolves, and for days on end you begun to feel overwhelmed. Not just in the guilt manifesting in your deluded mind, but a physically overwhelmed sensation that both made you weak and pliable to either of their need, but it was making you overly sensitive.

None of the issue was a blame on either, but if one was likely to notice more then the other it was Jon. No more striking of a comparison then your life now, the manner which they were the same yet extremely different. In the heat of the moment, Robb had a little more trouble recognizing signs you needed to slow down. Obviously both would simply tell you that you should feel comfortable vocalizing that, but you never would. It wasn’t...well it wasn’t how the women in your life raised you.

You were never really told that it actually was alright to voice discomfort to a man in sexual situations, you had a duty. And even though you knew Robb and Jon both despised whenever you’d fall back into that sort of mentality with them, Jon was simply a little more soft in the moment which gave him time to recognize it. The slow way his fingers were still thick inside of you, but dragged them slowly along something sensitive inside of you, never picking that speed up or adding more. The hand around the back of your head, running through you hair almost in a massaging manner as he pulled you closer to your end and despite the grey bleeding out into black, his eyes gazing down at you in something bright but watchful and almost adoring.

He was wild and unpredictable. A man turned feral wolf unable to control his need, but also gentle and watchful no matter how far gone between you both the passion had led you down. Robb was somehow just as much an anomaly. So much more predictable and traditional, you knew what you were always getting into with Robb and yet the degree to with he would drag you down into his level of depravity was perplexing.

Forcing you back into the world was a sudden shift from Jon though, that man gentle and watchful had suddenly switched. Near hissing your name until you looked up to meet his eyes only long enough for Jon to capture your lips with his in a much more needing and biting aggression. Leaving the back of your hair to join his other hand still sinking his fingers in and out of you slowly, but letting his others drag along your wetness and move upward to run back at your clit. The coil inside burning hot and it hurled you faster towards your end then you thought you were.

Head light as he would chase your lips any chance you took to pull back for air until you cried out. The snap sudden and hands grabbing at him hard with a need to ground yourself but Jon simply bit at your lips rough enough you felt a tearing tingling feeling vibrating against them as if he made mean to draw a cut.

Hardly coming down still your thighs shook in such aftershocks but Jon all but growled your name, forehead pressing against yours and tilting you downward to watch as he hiked your dress enough you could see. Not bothering to give you any chance to get your hands on him further, Jon used one hand to pull his length out, thick enough that the still feeling of what you could describe a soreness begged for mercy looking at. But it was unbearably hard as he lined himself up with your soaked entrance. His other hand returning to the back of your neck did Jon force your lips to meet his as he sunk deep inside of you.

Free hand holding up your thigh around his hip, fingertips pressing into the skin as if to remind you that he knew you might be overwhelmed but he needed you to just let him take care of you. For how tight you could be around such a girth, Jon always managed to slide deep inside of you as much as possible in one smooth thrust as if despite everything you had been designed for him. You knew he felt as such.

Licking into your mouth upon a small gasp of pleasure drawn from your core, you had not the head space to realize he was making more of a display then you knew. Going slow enough that the degree of need flowing through you as you grasped at him was palpable, and a more distinct showing that even when his cock was deep inside of you, that was not the only way he would be. Never once did he let you leave his kiss, your lightheadedness mixing with a dizzy feeling the closer he drew you with him to his promised third end.

Sliding in and out of you at such a steady but slow pace, you felt every inch as he moved along your soaked walls. Feeling so full and at such a speed did it really put itself on display for your senses. A burning hotness within you grew and grew as you had no control but to cry as he too, took control of your mouth as well. You both knew in such moments, he controlled you, and you let him. Wanting to beg and plead to him how good he felt inside of you but Jons growling in his chest as he refused to leave your kiss indicated he felt the same.

Heart racing and you only able to meekly hold onto his waist, hardly in the position to try and move with him. No, Jon moved against you, cock slowly filling you, leaving almost to the tip before once more thrusting back enough that were you both bare, the sound would’ve escaped beyond the muffle of your clothes and be heard through the empty hall.

A whine sufficing as a cry of wanting to beg him, plead how good he felt inside of you, a sad, desperate murmur that you loved him as he fucked you slowly against the wall. But his kiss stole your voice and breath and every sound just as he wanted. Already a shaking feeling in your muscles did you wrap your arms more around his shoulder and back as that feeling once again raised it’s weary head and sent you down the hill to that burning water to radiate all over your body. Closer and closer did you go, clenching around Jons length as he throbbed inside of you. Hands tight against your hair and your thigh as he held but the moment you snapped and waved over with a cry in his kiss did Jon let out a guttural groan into your mouth in return.

Thick and hot his seed was as it spilled inside of you, his hips never slowing until there was nothing left to offer. For now. Were you in the confines of his chambers, that would’ve merely been a first, light coarse for what he really wanted to do to you. How long he could go. Letting your leg down, Jon ensured you were steady on your feet before tucking himself back.

One hand cupping the side of your neck, Jon tilted your head up by your chin to meet his dark eyes, both of you catching your breath close to the other enough you felt the air leaving him his your cheek, almost as hot as the seed he filled you with. A handsome smile came over him with a breath of a laugh, leaning close to capture another kiss but to also run his nose against yours, not moving an inch from you too far until he knew you had returned back down to the ground. He’d take you until you passed out tonight, he didn’t even need to state it for you to know.

Except as he nuzzled against you in return as you did him, did his voice hiss out more rasping and rough then he would’ve spoken to you with. “You wanted a free show or what?” Brows narrowing in an innocent confusion, as Jon turned to the other side of the hall did you gasp in a shock and startle. But Jon, only pulled you closer into his front. A protective hold on you without question as he glared down the other Stark there. Muttering as you felt the flushing of embarrassment cause you to hide more in Jons chest, asking how long he had been there. Jons answer only flooded your nerves with that humiliation more, but the gentle caress of the hair at the back of your head suggested he knew that when he said it. “Almost the whole time.”

You glanced over with one eye, despite who it was you felt something of that guilt and shame at being caught. His blue eyes bordered on dark as he stepped closer with something sharp and rigid in his jaw, arms crossed against his chest as he stood there eyeing down his brother, whom was keeping you protectively close to his chest. Robb was the slightest bit softer looking towards you but his words did not help. “The only reason he did this here, love, is he wanted me to see him take you.”

Coming too close, Jon pulled you more into him. Tucking your flustered head from Robbs prying eyes as Jon considered them. “Robb.” Stopping his brother in his tracks at the unmistakable warning in his voice, Jon tilted his head somewhat in his narrowed gaze that said something you did not have the privilege to see or interpret. Rasping deep close to your ear as if responding to something Robb had spoken silently, considering nothing was shared out loud. “She’s not yours tonight.”

Moving backwards a bit, you looked up to a confusion to Jon. Tearing what seemed to be a tense stare off between the two, Jon softened as he cupped both of your cheeks. Pressing a kiss to your forehead and a longer, chaste one to your lips once then twice before muttering against them. “Go on ahead without me for now. Tell them I’ll be right there, I need to talk to Robb for a moment.”

A bite of your tongue he could see, Jon merely left one more kiss to your lips as he let his thumb run over the skin of your cheek. “Let me talk to Robb right now, and I’ll take care of you tonight, darling. I promise.” Nodding, he gestured for you to go, not letting his hands leave your frame until there was no other choice.

A deeply embarrassed fluster was flush across your face as you had to pass Robb to even go in the direction you needed. Without seeing the flash of a much more quick and deep rooted anger Jons eyes sent towards his brother the entire time, Robb had stopped you in your tracks to pull you a little closer to his side. His whisper not quiet enough that Jon wouldn’t hear, which no doubt was purposeful as he let his hand run gentle at your other cheek then Jon had just been touching. “He take care of you?”

“Robb.”

Not letting you turn to address the more stern anger in Jons shout, Robb raised an eyebrow with a charming smirk to entice you to answer. Wanting to glance between them with more to say but you didn’t quite know that he was getting at. Only nodding, as Robb then looked you over. Stepping close to your front he leaned down.

A whisper still enough for Jon to hear, “And the days he doesn’t, my bed is open to you for more then just what we agreed on.” You took it with much more innocence, but the gesture had Jon clench his jaw, turning from the sight with an anger deep in his agitated frame as Robb captured your lips in a gentle kiss. Hardly lasting long he nodded only once in the direction for you to go. Both waiting until the sight and sounds of you were long gone did they turn back to face one another.

“How often do you do this?” Roughly asking what, Jon felt little patience in him for this. Part of him was still buzzing from how perfect it always felt to make love to you, and having that interrupted no matter what set him off. But he too, was set off from last night and his own anger that might have ended him this discussion anyways. Robb’s comment was made in an anger, gesturing to where you had disappeared down the hall with offence. “Fucking her out in the open where anyone could walk in on? She’s your wife and you’re out there fucking her like you’re in the middle of a brothel.”

Jon found himself raising his voice in an angry audacity almost right away as he stepped closer to his brother. “I love her. I don’t fuck her like a whore, and I certainly don’t treat her like one.” Almost something amused sat in Robbs comment almost challenging him on that fact, but Jons face twisted as he gestured in general to Robbs person. “I heard you two last night.”

He was quick on the draw, Jon could give him that. “You listen to me fuck her often, Snow?”

That only inflamed that temper within him to draw out claws that much faster. “Everyone in the castle could hear. The way you talk to her-” Cutting himself off Jon ran a hand over his mouth as if to contain the ire and frustration so close to boiling over, despite the calm temper sitting in Robbs eye.

“What about it?”

Challenging Jon to say what he meant, Jon decided he refused to say it in any way that flowered it up in honey whatsoever. Robb knew Jon had said it with something feircly protective in him towards you. “She was your wife first. How about you try fucking her like you love her for once?” A short ask in a drop in tone for Jon to repeat himself, he pulled no punches as he let your name come growling out. “You fuck her like you hate her, and you want to judge me for where I spend my time with her?”

Only, the best opponent for a Stark in anger, was an equally as angry Stark. Robb was a good contender to throw back at his brother just as well. “I’m not the one leaving her bruised all over. Whenever I have her after you, it looks like you beat her.” The flare that struck within Jon did something near dangerous flow over his eyes, and yet Jon made not an inch of reaction despite that sudden pounding in his heart. “If you were anyone else, Jon, I wouldn’t be letting her anywhere near your bed.”

They both were letting their tempers make it personal, it didn’t need to be an attack on either, but neither were men well received for such harsh comparisons. Nearly getting into his brothers face his voice dropped to an edged husk like a sharp blade. “You of all people don’t get to throw that at me. Or are you going to honestly tell me that you aren’t way too rough with her every night you have her?”

It was the truth, and Robb could only ever phrase it to Jon in such a way, but it was not the right emotions brewing between either of them to make what was said, land anything close to being taken in the right way. “She wants me to be rough with her.”

Jon only growled out, “She want you to hurt her?”

Staring the other down, both felt that anger too close to the surface. If neither had said anything they would regret later by now, both brothers knew they were treading awful close to that line. Robb stayed as steady and calm as he always did, but nearly hissing out with a seething anger. “If you’re accusing me of something, Snow. Best say it now.”

Breathing ragged and harsh as it was deep through his lungs, Jons voice dropped rough with something much more visibly worked up in his every manner of his person. “I’d never treat her the way you do.”

“I’d never use her in public like she’s a show for men to get off on watching.”

Both could argue you never complained with either of them and it would be true, but the distance between how they were in such intimate scenarios with you were almost too different to see eye to eye in anyway here. The tension to thick and riled up to be compatible in any way. The feeling in his chest, heart pounding and yet it all beat in the direction yearning to be where you had gone, but that man overpowered the wolf long enough to push down the rawness for reason even for a moment.

Sighing out, Jon opened and closed his mouth a few times, but the wave coming across his eyes much more serious and concerned seemed to have luckily, struck Robb that whatever he was to say needed to be listened too at the minimum. More of a rasp, no one would hear save for Robb what he was about to say. “Things were easier between you two before, but it’s different now. She’s...” Finding his eyes, Jon felt what you must have felt towards him months ago. The need to spare a loved one from such a horrible knowledge. So he downplayed it, and both knew he was doing so. “The things she’s been through since she’s come back, she’s not the same anymore, Robb. She’ll never tell you if she wants to stop, she won’t tell you no when she knows she needs to, she’ll never do anything that she thinks might displease you. She’ll trick you into forcing her past her limits if she thinks she needs too.”

Robb only asked what did he mean by that, and when Jon didn’t answer, both felt unwell at either the truth or the following assumption. Looking away, Robb returned his brothers gaze after a beat passed with a tone calmer then before but full of a worry. “You’re saying she’d-”

Jon hated that he knew where it was going, but was as blunt as he knew Robb deserved to hear the extent of it. “If we weren’t raised by our father, if we were worse men? She’d let us take her against her will if we wanted it, and she’d still pretend she liked it for our sake. She’ll do whatever it takes to please you. I’m not telling you..” Both men nodded knowing where that one was going, brothers unwilling to address that so specifically as Jon continued with a clearing throat. “I am saying you have to be more careful with her. You have to make sure you’re watching for signs she’s about to lie to you when you ask if she needs to stop.”

You would’ve let Jon take you roughly if he hadn’t picked up on how overly sensitive you felt, and Jon hated that you trusted him even if he’d actually be hurting you. And he knew you trusted Robb the same, but he needed Robb to know that too. Nodding, the blue in Robb’s eyes much more matched the bright sorrow no doubt radiating in Jons greys. Thinking for a moment before he nodded, something more confident and firm in him. “I have to do better to take care of her.”

Jon though, none of the anger left, gave nothing but a peace offering in form of the truth. “We both do.”

Robb had the right answer though, one not so marred in Jons ill memories of the unknown to Robb as he lightened the mood standing in that corridor. “Who knew it’d take two of us to even try tackling whats wrong in her head.” Jon jested back, both glancing to where you had gone that you were the most exhausting woman a man could try to love. Both laughed lightly at that, facing the other again, as Jon extended his arm in a final offering. Robb took it with a shake. “You two have tonight with each other, tomorrow,”

“We start fresh?”

Robb could only add with an amusement, “She’s going to hate being part of that talk. Stubborn as all hell.”

Jon however laughed, again a bright look full of a distant adoration so vivid in his eyes watching where you were not. In truth, he seemed to have mumbled the quiet part out loud, but in a stroke of luck, Robb knew exactly what he was talking about for himself too. “And I’d never trade that about her for anything.” You were exhausting the two wolves knew, but Robb and Jon also knew who was up to a great challenge if not a pack of wolves?

The meeting went so much easier then the tension minutes before would’ve suggested. You and Robb worked well together, much of his thoughts or strategy complimented by you. But too were you also so natural at Jons side. More of the support for his decisions, and if Robb were to admit, you looked quite good at his brothers side. You looked perfect at Robbs he knew, but you also somehow looked like you too were made to stand at Jons. The only question now was what to do about that, but Robb knew that would have to wait until tomorrow. Robb wanted you, he loved you, but still he could see.

And there was no denying the simple fact that Jon looked at you like he truly needed you.

Little did something feel better then the hot water steaming around you. Not simply the grime of the day soaking off of your skin, but from the cold air exposed before getting in to the heat now engulfing every part around it, it made the pain that much easier to sit with. Faint were the sounds of your dreams which woke you so early the night before, and now sitting there you could ignore the rest of it for even just a moment.

Though, the just as warm figure behind you helped in that manner. Running through your hair, Jon had rinsed out the oils you had chosen for yourself that time, and now had begun busying himself with gently running through the long locks with a comb to untangle the rest. Rasping low in your ear as your eyes sat closed at his insistence that you enjoy yourself and not do anything. “You can’t avoid it forever.”

A murmur on your tongue, even without looking you could see the bemused grin forming across Jons face as you said it. “I think you’re underestimating my ability to run from my problems.” Mumbling that he certainly was not doing that, both of you knew were you facing him you’d have nudged him from you in a playful protest. “You know him in a different way then I do. You don’t have to worry about him putting every negative viewpoint he might possibly have known in his life and hurl it towards you for a life he doesn’t understand.”

Shifting so Jon could drape your hair along the front of one shoulder, he then slid that same arm across your frame, pulling you to lean back against him by your collarbones. One hand shifting up to hold at his wrist. “And I grew up a bastard, and married his highborn daughter. You don’t think that puts me down a notch in his eyes?” Mumbling that it was higher up of an opinion then you would be right now, Jon chuckled slightly before pulling you closer. “He’ll find out eventually.”

Inhaling deeply, you let your head fall back a bit against him, his other hand slinking around to your front to pull you closer as you sat between his legs. “And I’ll handle that when it comes to it, but I’m not looking for a reason for my father to judge me more then he does now.”

It took quite a while before you were willing to get up, and Jon never once hesitated in giving you that time, the hot water around now acting as a soother to you from the many encounters of passed days. How such a discussion came about to what would be said when your father learned of your new unique position, you had no doubt you’d rather not have to think on it. Pulling you up from the water, Jon had only gone as far as to wrap a long but silk made robe around your shoulders before guiding you into the other room.

Feet cold against the stone, you naturally sought out the furs in front of his fire. The cold of his room was always prominent, even moreso as the snows begun to fall and fall without failure. Never did it bother you, but in that moment it was as if the waters you just emerged from had been as cold as ice. Only the skin touched by the light of fire had anything soothing feeling towards it, your bones yearning to wrap a thicker shall or even a blanket around you by this point.

Your vision from the side told you that somehow, Jon had not the same feeling about the cold. Door locked and uncaring about the same insecurities you did about it, he hard only thrown on a pair of breeches. Not even laced up as they threatened to fall as they sat temptingly low on his hips. Flickering back to the fire, you felt a guilt for it as if spying on a sight not your business. He was not walking around that way for you to leer at and yet you found the inclination strong all the same.

Step by step you heard him approach, and yet as your arms had crossed your front pulling the sides of the robe closed, did Jon gently pull the sides down your shoulders with the silent command for you to let it fall where he allowed it. Dropping around your feet, your bare frame now drying better in front of the fire was not given the chance to shiver from the air. Pulled back into Jon once more, an arm wrapped around to your stomach and the other smoothing his palm up and down your waist to hip.

The still warm droplets of water fell from where they clung to the curls of his hair, down onto your skin where he leaned over your shoulder. The side of his head pressed into yours, Jons eyes and yours followed one single drops path where it fell on your collarbones, down over the curve of your breasts and down between before losing steam as it came down to your hips. Another and another as if he was muddying your ability to stay dry now with the desire to watch what came from him spill down onto your skin as if watching something far more perverse in nature.

Tilting your head somewhat to partially see him in your view, Jons voice was a low rasp but thicker with need then before. As if only as he spoke deeply did you feel the undeniable twitch of his cock begging to go back to being uncovered and close to you as he wanted. But did not make any move to do so, not quite yet that was. “I want to make you feel good.” Murmuring your name, Jon leaned over a little more to ensure you were looking at him. “Do you want that?”

Nodding at first, you should’ve known Jon would not accept such a response. He expected it out loud, and barley did you have the courage to whisper. “Please?” Jon only smiled something much more charming as he stretched the more awkward angle to seek what of your lips he could reach. Guiding you to lay down right where you were, Jon kicked away the fabric of the robe away onto the floor useless to him now.

Braced up against your palms, feet planted on the ground with your knees more bent, Jon sat more comfortably at your side facing the opposite manner so your eyes could easily meet. Letting a hand ride up, he ran gentle over your face and by your cheek, almost instinctively did you lean into his touch as he switched to cup your cheek completely. Thumb now taking over running back and forth. Reaching back up to grasp at his wrist, your own thumb pressing over his pulse had him shiver.

Almost twisting his face into a frown had you not know him better, Jon instead of making any words, slid his hand to the back of your neck. Pulling you to him as he leaned forward to capture your lips with his. Gentle he was as soft as his lips were, you never felt anything but that jump of lightness in your heart at such a motion. Not anything deep, but a guiding lead as he refused at every gesture to allow you to pull away.

Once, then twice did he try on his own only to fail and return to force your lips back to his as if he were not the one who tried to give you the air. Deeper and deeper did he kiss you, seeking out any and every need within him to keep that gentle press against him as much as you felt that lightness move from your chest to your mind, clouding it as you wished to reach up to him. Instead Jon leaned more over you, keeping you in need to stay braced against the furs to even meet him in anyway, but Jon more then made up for it.

Only tearing away as he bit your lip, pulling a gasp from you, Jon ignored the urge to slide his tongue into your mouth and made his way to press his lips against your jaw and neck. One hand moving to the opposite side of your head to tilt you better to his need, but Jon licked and kissed a wet path down your neck only to bite down. Returning up that same pathway, you felt Jon give more of a growl to you as he sunk his teeth.

A buzzing flew though you with something sharp as gasps came out in high pitched need, eyes fluttering closed at the scraping of his teeth pulling a desire from you more and more as your thighs tensed wishing to push together. Harder and harder did he bite, before his lips soothed the sting before returning to such the same animalistic instinct. Unable to stop himself from nearing the point of too far and yet never once did the need in your heart turn from such strong trust to fear. Never with Jon would you wish to feel that as if he’d treat you the way Ramsay had.

Pushing you down more, Jon shifted his own stance so he could hover over you. The hand on your face now drifting downward, seeking your knee as he reached blindly behind him and made them move to lay down, forcing you to simply lay out and relax. Yet his path of his lips did not make that easy, a wetness growing between your legs as each breath could be heard more labouring from you as every single sound was higher pitched then the last.

Not even the wince was truly correct, more of something overwhelming as when your legs lay out did Jon grasp at your breast. Calloused hand groping at the plush skin not even with any showmanship or finesse. Just the greed of a man who wanted more, lips moving down to your collarbones with every intent on stopping at your breasts.

His body moved down with him, less and less of him so easily available to see but his still damp hair, curls black as they created a tickling curtain where it fell around his head against your skin, his facial hair much more a raw scratching that had your hand dig into the fur with a whine so close to the surface.

Kissing the top of your breast which was not occupied by his hand, Jon finally glanced up to you only for a moment. Staring from your neck no doubt bruising as you felt the sting against it, down and down to your breasts before his hand returned to grasping at you. Fingers gently grabbing at your nipple, only pulling and pinching enough that matched his gentle manner his lips found the other.

Sucking gently at the bud of your breast did your back arch up into him. Fingers still digging into the fur as the other sat stretched above your head doing the same unsure what you were supposed to even do beyond barley withholding a whine of his name. More and more his lips found that of his teeth and as he more roughly pulled at your nipple did Jon bite down on the other.

That so much more a growl leaving from his chest, that feeling of sparks burned from his touch and flooded your bloodstream down and all through where it reached. The more he yanked at your nipple with a force, the more Jon took the other between his teeth rather then any gentle soothing with his lips or tongue. Bites around the rest of it as the sting on your neck was tenfold here. A pleasure much more distinct and needy begging to be brought to the surface.

But not yet finished was he in his path. Moving down Jon continued to not let any spot he passed go without a kiss. Between the valley of your breasts and down your sternum, Jon took his time at your stomach. The scar with careful near pecks before shifting fully. Kneeling more between your legs now on his knees, Jon grasped both of your thighs and spread them wide. Grey in his eyes disappearing to the black as he looked at what wetness you already gifted him. “Relax for me. I’ll take care of you,”

Hardly sitting up on your elbows, your neck and chest stung with indents of teeth and forming bruises as it heaved for the air he always made you feel as if it were a struggle for. Lips parted you nodded, an unsure glaze over your eyes that never ceased to accompany such an act but Jon was too busy staring what you so easily let him have between your legs. You never felt confident in this the way he was in how much he wanted it but you did not dare say no, not when your body burned everywhere you could still feel his touch. Fire alight on your upper thighs where he was keeping them pushed apart for his witness. Shifting downwards, Jon only rasped with an accent so thick you barley would’ve heard if not for the quiet around you two. “I’ll never get over the way you taste, darling.”

Head dropping backwards against the furs in both an embarrassment and also a deep shiver racing down your spine. You didn’t know if he even cared at this point at how you always reacted to his genuine thirst for the wetness he would drink from. Starved and in need, Jon never cared about anything he could taste more then what he could get from prying your legs apart.

Jon lay between your legs, pulling both over each shoulders with such a dark gaze staring with an intensity that could intimidate most. Lips finding your mound, you bit your lip from any noise but Jon with a hand holding you steady at the hip, slid more down to your ass. Not even grasping properly, but a sharp squeeze with his nails to add as if grabbing your attention to not hide from him. He could not look to you, thus he needed to hear you. Your breath shaky as he kissed down to your clit but the cry was an outburst you did not necessarily mean to come out so sharply.

Licks of his tongue almost like that of a kitten, Jon never picked up any pace of significance. Soft and sweet as if savouring something before seeking his feast, your body burned despite it. A fire forming in the pit of you core and were Jon not holding you down, you’d have arched to his touch more. Instead held in place, Jon grew more and more bold. Small flicks of his tongue, turned into more purposeful motions and the pressure begun to increase. Both in against your clit from his touch, but within your core it increased faster then normal.

You were sensitive, but that made it you were sensitive to touch of any kind. Jon was cruel however in what he would bring you to your finish from his touch on you alone. Much more sloppily did he care for your clit. Tongue flat against it, patterns you could not even discern and his lips taking it with a sucking as if your nipple. But the bundle of nerves so strikingly waved desire through you that your hand beside you within the furs grasped at his hair by instinct.

The hold was light, but Jon grunted. The vibration pulling a whine in your chest, and thus he did it once more. Further and further did his tasting tongue drag you down as he soaked you in pleasure. His lips and tongue so powerful against you as your thighs tensed. Your hand remained gentle raking through his curls but the other stretched bent above your head was positioned still grasped the fur tightly.

A growl against you and hands tight on your skin as he held you down, that thread keeping you from beyond had suddenly snapped as Jon almost ran his mouth over you as if a kiss meaning to tease you with his tongue. A shamelessly greedy manner to be between your legs and yet as your orgasm flooded your veins and clouded your mind calling his name did Jon shift your hips up.

Sat a bit more upwards, Jon now held you down where he could sink his head down properly into your cunt as an animal drinks from a pool of water in desperate calling. Only the dark curls could you see but your cries left without any ability to stop them. Your hand did not maintain hold through his curls to keep him there, but rather a tether to the ground where you’d float away otherwise.

Your wetness on full display for him, made only stronger by the saliva coating you as much as your heavy taste coated his tongue. The grunts from him only increasing, further and further licking inside of you. Tongue running flat along from your clit down, and growling emerging from his chest as he shifted his hold on your hips tighter to tug you to his mouth closer.

A burning feeling was all you had, just the fire beside you and the sounds of Jons mouth feasting between your legs and yet it echoed in the head of you who could only feel that fire for him. Nothing else existed and your lip would bite down as much as you could not keep them from parting with a moan out to the quiet of the night.

One hand running down to your ass, Jon shifted you better once more as if never happy yet. As if nothing could make any of it any better until as your mind was nothing but a beg of him, he wanted no sense focused on anything but you. Coating his tongue your wetness did, and every brush and lick as he found inside of you was almost not for you. The pleasure a coincidence, a side effect to the true desire which was giving Jon yourself in ways you only had known and trusted from him.

Crying out his name another flood of need waved through you, muscles all tense and yet as your feet pressed into his back, Jon growled as his tongue was deep inside of you. The vibrations strong and so sharp you would’ve jumped were he not holding you down. “Gods, Jon, please..”

Were his eyes not closed, they’d have rolled into the back of his head at the sound. Your begging like that of a siren in the sea to him, and he swam directly towards the source. Waters flooding around the man whereas here, it was the wetness mixed with you and his saliva making such a mess that were he not drinking all of what you gifted him, the furs below no doubt would’ve been soaked and Jon would not have held a single regret as such. A reminder of what he was graced with now no matter what past and present beholded to him. He could always lay you out on the furs before the fire in his chambers and always taste that sweetness no dessert could replicate.

Lay you out bare on the table in the hall and Jon would taste you as all else ate what was baked for any such occasion. Before you could even articulate it, before words could form such a burst of sparks turned to flames and did you writhe against his touch. A groan left Jon as his name left you, hands now braced at the thigh over his shoulders, did Jon not give you a single inch untouched.

Tongue flat against you and sliding as much as he could inside of your warm, soaking cunt as you clenched around the nothing truly filling you with as much crying need as his cock could give. Jon did not understand how some people saw this act as merely build up to the next event. Jon had you bare laying out for him for long enough that sweat was beginning to form over you in a way that made another groan come out against you.

Sparks too much as your hips flinched a little from his mouth but Jon was not done. He struggled to be done. Returning up to your clit with fervour, your hands tightening in his hair did not in fact, ease up the manner which he drank from you. In fact, it only spurned him on further. One hand reaching upwards, Jon ran over your front grasping tightly at your breast as if to gain your attention. The hand above your head reaching the language, reaching down to grasp his as you both held tight. Jon with such a tight hold on you as each shock of pleasure too much he kept you firmly on his tongue.

Your insides twisted without words to describe it, you faintly could breathe there was such a strong pleasure burning like a fire in the wild in your core. It never eased up as he never let you, cries coming from your lips as eyes stung with tears.

Further and further Jon dragged you down to the depths. One after another, you lost count as you suspected he wished for you too. Seeking a pleasure he could greedily provide you in contrast to what he still aggravatingly knew was such a rough manner his brother treated you. Jon knew he was rougher with you then he sometimes realized, but never did he do it on purpose. Never did he fuck you with angry words and spitting insults and yet you enjoyed it. Almost enough it would make Jon second guess your time with him.

But looking up, grey eyes scouring over your arching body with marked breasts from his mouth on full display, his mouth never once stopping his taste, Jons eyes slipped back closed. Your hand in his hair was not directing, only grounding. Only keeping you from floating too far, but again was Jon not concerned with stopping.

Jon gifted to you what no man before him had ever done, and none enjoyed it the way he does. No one understood the way Jon was laid between your legs, thighs over his shoulders as your feet dug into his back trying to ease the pressure in your core from his tongue. The way you grasped for words but failed short of anything but pleads of his name, or how if he looked closely, the tears existed in your eyes? He knew all he needed to know. He was different with you then the way Robb was, but he was more then enough. He was something to you other men could never be.

A final flood into his mouth, Jon had not waited until you came down to sit upwards. Surging over your body, Jon captured the back of your head, pulling you up to meet his lips as your hands instantly wrapped around his own shoulders and back. Grasping at the long, loose strands of black curls hiding his greedy kiss from the watchful eyes he knew was not there.

Robb was right, Jon had taken you where he did earlier because he wanted his brother to see. Jon wanted him to see how a man fucks you slowly, keeps your lips so pressed against his that he had not the time to even entertain the idea of muttering such filth to you. The anger he felt at the words spoken and how you in such a state of mind had just taken it.

He knew Robb loved you but he did not come anywhere near close to fucking you as if that were true. Jon however, knew that even in the most depraved moments where it was not a mans cock inside of you but a wolf, he still was not jut fucking you. A word, a concept saved for the brothel in Winter Town, it belonged nowhere between you both. Jon no matter how rough, made love to you.

And as he licked at your bottom lip, taking advantage of how obediently you parted your lips to allow him to slide his tongue into your mouth sharing the sweet and heavy taste you had him addicted too, Jon knew there was nothing which would fuck the way he did you were it full of something beyond love. Overwhelming your mouth with his tongue matching the same as he drank from your cunt, you gripped at his hair and whined into his mouth knowing Jon would not let you go.

He needed to share, to taste your lips and mouth along with your wetness. He needed you to understand what he was so addicted too. What he could salivate like an animal over thinking about too long. How he did not understand why you’d ever want to suck his cock when there was no way it was anywhere near as close to a paradise above as you. Tasting you was never rough, it was never mean and could never push your limits beyond a saftey.

But he was not finished. The manner in which he has shared with you to soak so perfectly, Jon pulled your kiss closer by the back of your head to the thought that sliding inside of you was going to be so beautifully smooth. Restrained by his breeches, he hated that he even put them on for any modesty, but capturing your sweet lips once, twice, four times did he finally pull away.

Running his nose slowly down the length of yours as he rasped with such thick words, slurring together from an accent running strong in his desire. “Spread wide for me, darling.” Running his hand along what he could of your sweating hair, you bit your lip with a nod.

His dark eyes looking down at you, not even watching but feeling as you had to be the one to spread your legs wider for him. Jons touch only found in the form of his hands smoothing up the back of your calves. A brighter look in his eyes gave a nod that you did good, but surged both of them up to cup your cheeks. Passion bright between you as he could barley find it within him to move his lips elsewhere.

You felt as Jon sat up, holding his hands out for you to grasp as he pulled you up to a sitting position before him. Still having to lean down over you from the higher vantage point, but he kept your hands gentle in his. Bringing them down to the tops of his breeches, Jon gave the softest of smiles to your weary expression. “You’ve done this hundreds of times now.”

Nodding, you pushed away the nerves as if the first time seeing a mans cock. Undoing each lace without putting any form of show on, just slow and carefully as to not have any roughness to him. Free and loose, you begun pulling them down to low on his hips, the top of his hard cock visible eventually making you pause. Eyes looking up to meet Jons, he didn’t have to say anything. The look of encouragement that you could do this yourself, and slowly did you pull them down enough your face was level with his cock. Thick and red from the amount of blood pooling in him, you stared at it with your lips parted in a need.

Head turning to look up at him with a question, “Jon-”

He was quicker and shorter in tone with you. “No.” Cupping the side of you head, Jons dark eyes did not watch the tender words. “I want to be inside you, but not this way. Just the way you and I always do.”

Your heart flipped as you understood the insinuation. The gentle way. Nodding, he muttered for you to speak up. “I understand.” His silence as his hand raked through your hair was as good as praise. Eventually he took over for you, getting the rest of his clothes off and tossing them beyond sight as he leaned over you again, your legs still spread so wide like he asked.

Palms pressing into the furs at each side of your head, you sighed deeply in a desperate need for whatever he was to do next at his choosing. Rasping with such adoration, there was no aggression in the way Jon ever spoke to you regardless of what his touch might insinuate. “Some day soon, darling. I’m going to fill you with a baby. Give you my son.” It wasn’t an ask.

Your heart suddenly remembered the faint cries in your dreams without putting it together so directly. Nodding, you ran your hands through his curls with a gentle smile. “We can name him after your father if you want?” Jon’s eyes were wide and glossy but he didn’t say no. A nod of yes small but clear as he reached finally between you both. As if he was giving you a promise for right now, as if outside of this room, you’d walk out and a baby boy would be born to you both no matter how much it had yet to happen.

Crying out, Jon too hissed as he pressed the tip of his cock to your clit. Sensitive and soaked, Jon prodded against it as if teasing, but no smiles were found. Dragging it down with the same pressure, finally did Jon run along your soaking folds. Forcing his hand under your head to grasp at your hair, Jon looked you in the eye as he finally sunk inside of you.

The stretch making you gasp, the sting so perfect and yet the pain from so much of it present. He slid slowly, deep as he could go, as you could take him and yet your tight walls clenching around him did not seem to effect how his cock had entered you in one smooth thrust. Holding around the back of his neck with a crying gasp, your legs laid wide shook. Begging his name, but Jon shushed you as if soothing something upset.

Jon didn’t even blink when he pulled almost all of the way out of you. Tip remaining and such heavy breaths from your breasts now turning colour, Jon caressed your head and hair as much as he could before slowly thrusting back inside. Dragging his cock along your such sensitive walls pulled tears, but your lips were left open in endless cries both his name and silence. Jon never wavered as he looked down to you, demanding in his expression that you not close your own eyes.

Each slide of his cock was followed by such a humiliatingly wet sound. Pushing inside of your cunt, it could be heard that it was so smooth beacuse he had you so soaked. It was slower then even before, the way he gently pulled out of your walls nearly completely before thrusting back in. Ensuring every single moment he could see your eyes as he did so. Embarrassing it felt, but he did not do it as such, but a need of his own. To look into your eyes and know this connection between you both was here and real beyond any doubt. He had to look at you, in your eyes as if it was his own tethering to the ground.

Muscles tensing above you the more and more Jons length thrusted in and out of you, but the drag radiated from where it clawed at, pooling to your blood and veins and only able to be vocalized as pleasure beyond, “Oh fuck, Jon..” Your eyes fluttered shut, only for a moment trying to drag them back open without prompt. A prideful feeling struck within Jon that without any orders he had you so obedient for him.

Trying to move your hips with him, Jon only leaned down to press his lips to yours. Shifting so he could pull one of your legs by the thigh to rest up on his hip. Speeding up to overtake how much you could match him in thrusts, eyes pleading you to just let him take care of you.

You felt unbearably full, the thickness of his length always managing to draw out the most beautiful pain that you never thought you’d want to be asking for. Sweat building between you both and none of it from the fire beside you alone. Biting at your lips, you didn’t even need to gasp to know what it was to come, parting your lips and as he had before, overtook the charge. Brushing over your tongue as a sound of need gifted from you to him as Jon picked up just the slightest.

Your other leg bending up to his side to match on it’s own, the drag of his cock from your soaking warmth had you clenching around him, a grunt to you right back. Just slightly faster was enough to arch up into his front. Tearing from your lips as thrust after thrust did he move his hips with yours, cock sliding barley half way out before Jon lost his patience and thrusted right back inside of you as deep. Forehead leaning against yours, the trail of saliva connected between you only to break as he husked out with such a rough, guttural force. “You’re mine, darling. You’ll always be mine, and I’ll always be yours.”

He expected no response, words not easily coming to you in such a state. Pleads and cries and begs all whispered and whined like music in his ears as much as the sound of your wetness taking his length with a perfection. He could share you with one, he could do that, but he wouldn’t give you up. He’d make it work with Robb, he had to. Neither wolf could afford to ruin this, as much as he didn’t want to hurt you, Jon too didn’t want to leave you. He couldn’t and wouldn’t.

Grasping the thigh on his hip, Jon pushed back enough on his knees still thrusting slowly inside of you. With gritted teeth Jon suddenly pushed your leg as much as he could up against your chest, grasping the other and wrapping his arm around it to push it to the same.

One foot resting along his back, the other too tightly held in it’s bend with nowhere to go, you gasped with a bite of your lip as Jons hips drove into yours faster again. No rougher, but faster did the slight sound of skin against skin fill the air beyond your cries of need to one another. The coil within you at the new angle twisted unbearably fast, a flooding heat fill a sparking explosion begging to occur once that coil snapped and Jons cock started to drive you faster and faster to that end.

Eyes growing wider, almost begging to him did your voice grow frantic, unable to handle the warmth as you clenched around him. “Jon, I..I- oh fuck, Jon please.”

A true growl left Jon that time, a smooth slide in and out of you he only picked up somewhat in speed but you were so tight around him this way. You were so perfectly out on display for his cock and Jon felt his head drop at the way he started to throb inside of you over it. Forcing out in rasp, “Come on, darling. Come on, I need to feel you around me, give me this one..” Leaning down Jon captured your lips in a messy manner before your lips fell open in a cry. Grunting into you, Jon begun thrusting harder into you as that wave exploded.

The fire flooding you and bursting with that perfect amount of pain, Jon never ceasing how deep he had to fuck you, how much he had to keep going rougher just to fill you the same. Whatever nothings of begs coming from your mouth, Jons eyes fell shut. Head dropping into your neck, your orgasm spinning your mind to only him, did Jon throb deeply before your name slipped muffled into your skin and hair.

A heat suddenly filled you so deeply, Jons seed spilling inside of you hot and as thick as his cock was, but he never stopped. He sat up on his knees, thrusting faster with just as much momentum. A darkness in his eyes, looking down to your body covered in his bruising work as he rasped with a dark desire. “We’ll go as long as you want, as long as you need. Always, I promise, darling. I promise.”

Your orgasm had hardly faded, his hot seed deep inside you as if both were desperate to find harmony with one another, but Jon kept going. Thrust after thrust until the world begun to fade away from your desperate form. Arms wrapping around the back of his neck in his hair, you begged for him to stay, and Jons cock went harder at the sound.

Only the sounds of Jons rasp did you hear in the growing fading lost in the pleasure. “Sleep, darling. You’re safe with me.” When your eyes closed and head dropped to the side you did not know. But you did in fact know, that Jon hadn’t stopped when you did. You didn’t want him too. Spilling inside you so much that when you awoke eventually it coated the inside of your thighs as if you were so full of him that it had nowhere to go but paint your skin too.

Bare in the bed with the fur gently pulled atop, Jon had finished at some unthinkable time after you slept, and brought you to bed eventually. Where your place to him, was always at his side. But that was the thing wasn’t it? Because Robb too, thought the same about you as Jon. And both were men who expressed the degree of their love through fucking you, no matter the toll it was beginning to take.

It wasn’t just the direwolves which seemed to have disappeared that afternoon, it was you as well.

Robb had you one night, Jon the other but where were you now? Back and forth they had you for the night but suddenly you were nowhere to be seen. Theon did not know, Olly did not know, no one seemed to know. Nor did Arya have a clue where Ghost and Greywind were. Suggesting they had gone out for a hunt, but they had done that last night and wouldn’t have needed another so soon.

In the ask if they should be worried, Robb held the level head. Saying it was fine, and no doubt you were somewhere still in the castle clearly since no one too had seen you even trail outside. “Jon, she’s somewhere. We just have to find where that where is.”

Sighing deeply, Robb could almost taste the overbearing anxiety emanating from his brother. Neither too, could see through the eyes of their respective wolves. Something which seemed to happen when one was in a deep sleep unable to be so directly interrupted. Which was good, they were asleep and there were only so many places that was. Your name leaving Jons lips, “Wherever Ghost is, that’s where she is.” Robb asked why, and curiously Jon almost hesitated for a moment to answer. “Because if I can’t protect her, then Ghost does.”

Not dissimilar things they had done, Robb during the war once rumours of Renly Baratheon’s strange death came from his mothers account, Robb was unwilling to risk anything else. Greywind watched you at all times, kept tabs on you and could report back to Robb as well as any soldier, if not better. “You can’t trust her inside our own home?”

Jon was holding something back he knew, something he wasn’t saying but Robb doubted it would be an easy task to try and pry it out of him. “No. She has too many enemies out there. All it takes is her getting too far outside the walls and who knows what could happen to her.” Robb could only relent with a slight tilt of his head, dark and murky history passed told that story very well.

Sighing deeply, Robb stopped to turn to his brother in the middle of the corridor. “Jon.” Trying to get his attention, it struck Robb almost as amusing the degree to which his brother had changed. Older and more put together much like himself, now much of the time his hair pulled all the way back much like father always did in the warmer weather. But the wide, bright eyes a striking grey did not look the sternness of his father. It much more looked like a mix of Ned Stark and..someone else. As if hints of whoever Jons mother was, hints of her could be seen in his eyes, in the more soft way his face could be.

After all these years, Jon still was somewhat of an anomaly to Robb. But unlike the angry brooding he had been used too, Jon held it now with a very different responsibility and weight. He was somehow darker, angrier, and even more broodsome but Robb understood that. Coming back changed Stark men. But it also meant Robb knew how to tackle the ticking obsession in his brothers mind.

“Ghost and Greywind are somewhere not far. No one has seen them or her leave the castle. We know her. Where would she go?”

It wasn’t there first guess, but it was Robb’s third once the more calm search had begun. Thinking that perhaps if you were overwhelmed by something you’d go to where there was quiet without any doubt, and there now was only once place which was not where you had been in years. Slowly opening the door, Robb peaked his head in first.

In another life the sight would’ve made him smile, but as cute as it could be there was something telling about what led to it. Creeping the door open slightly, he nodded for Jon to glance in next to them. Jon sighed in relief but too held the same wide, bright eyes as Robb did over what truly they were looking at beyond surface level. The middle of the afternoon was not a time you would be doing this normally.

You had snuck off, so exhausted you had abandoned the duties you stacked upon yourself to rest. Your old chambers were mostly bare. Your personal things had mostly been taken with you to Kings Landing after you and Robb had married, and no doubt not a scrap of that came back. But sheets and furs still clean in there for any guest reasons, it could be relied on to sleep.

Curled up in the middle of the bed, you had wrapped a thick shall around you as if a blanket. Hands tucked up into your chest closer to one side but your head against the pillow was leaning backwards to the opposite side. You were not in the bed, not fur covering you from the cold, but both brothers realized they did not need to be.

Since you were not alone in that room in slumber.

Sturdy behind you, a great sized beast covered your entire body’s length. Leaning forward as if their face was meant to be resting up against your neck. Keeping you warm but safe at your back was Greywind. Your head tilted back as if to nuzzle back against him when he most likely nudged at you for your attention.

On your other side, his head resting so close to you that were you to move your head back to match where the rest of you was faced, they would be able to rest it atop yours. Ghost laid on your other side, facing you just as asleep, but keeping you warm and a degree of comforting. One at your back one at your front, both direwolves slept soundly along with you as if acting guards so none could disturb you in your sleep all together.

It didn’t occur to them until that moment it seemed. The signs all there, your pure exhaustion growing day by day, more sensitive but too were you running ragged. Your duties no more pressing or exhaustive the past few days, you had not strained yourself physically in need of a nap to recuperate. No, it was Robb and Jon who had stressed you.

Marks on your body from Jon the night before more visible then anything Robb would’ve left behind, but he knew too well the manner which was with you in such times. Jon glanced to Robb as he tore his eyes from your sleeping frame to his brother in a wide guilt. They both felt the same thing that Jon whispered in the otherwise peaceful air. “We should’ve gone easier on her days ago.”

Robb echoed exactly as Jon had put it, now that he could see the result. “She needed to rest, but didn’t know how to say no to us.” Grey meeting blue, they both let that build and build inside them. That guilt. Resting in the middle of the day alone, hoping to be ready for one of them that night. Still even when you had to run and hide away from their insatiable appetites for you, you still did it for the benefit of their own wants and needs.

It went entirely unspoken. How Greywind and Ghost both slept with ease at either side of you in the bed. Neither even indicated it ran through their heads. That was something else. That was a leap, a step they hadn’t even considered until that very moment. Considering that was too much. You were Robbs wife as you were Jons, but already sharing you was something different. They shared your body separate from one another. Sharing your small and intimate moments of love like that? That was a step not Robb nor Jon was ready for.

Closing the door behind them, both leaned closer to the other in hushed tones to speak. They refused to speak on that step, but there was one. And of all people who thought of it, it was Jon. The strange idea that Robb never would’ve thought that was an idea he’d consider.

But he did. Jon almost took charge the moment Robb even entertained that idea. Laying out rules and limits and established what was what. “You know a lot about this sort of thing, Snow?”

Whatever reaction he expected, a dark look with not a single shift in demeanour to anything guilty or unusual, it was a strange thought that yes. Perhaps he does. Trying to pry Jon shook his head. Trying to further ask if it was about you, Jon was a little more tense. “I just do. The details don’t matter.”

Raising an eyebrow, Robb let it slide for now at least. Nodding down the hall away from the door, both brothers knew they had much more to discuss in private. Jon of all people knew that he needed to ensure this time, you understood exactly what the two wolves would be talking you into.

Unbeknownst to either, at some point in the next while did Robb and Jon separately come to check on you. Each time, you lay there with Ghost and Greywind more peaceful in sleep then you had in days. And even further unbeknownst to each brother, did you lay there between large wolves of safe warmth, did you not have dreams with were peaceful. Again you dreamt of cries. The feeling of something to be in your arms that was missing, and more did you recognize that the cries were familiar, even if for now, you couldn’t place it.

But when you awoke, you did have the distinct memory of amongst the rest of the foggy dream, you saw bright, wide green eyes like yours.

It was not often that being well rested made you suspicious. For four days and four nights both Starks had taken it very easy on you. Robb never engaged in anything physical beyond the comfort of his kiss, and only lulled you to sleep with a more firm but intimate touch without pushing it to something else. Jon as well, he had toned everything right down to nearly a halt besides his lips to yours. Pulling you close to his chest in such a soft and warm way as you both fell asleep wrapped up in each other innocently. Neither addressed why they had begun acting as such, but they did.

Robb one night, Jon the other and repeat for another two day cycle. You did not complain, but you wondered why. Fierce men of need your wolves were, but yet anytime you brought up anything you could do for them in that manner, they’d shut it down. Robb would laugh with a charming smile. Pull your lips to his by a grip on your chin and mutter enough that you felt a flustered smile come about. “Needy little wife. Can’t even enjoy spending time with her husband without jumping him, can you?”

You’d stammer a protest that it wasn’t what you intended so forward, but Robb would only drag you over to the other side of his chambers, and get you ready for bed with him. Pulling your back firmly into his chest as you both would be able to see Greywind on the furs by his fire. Circling around before curling up facing you both as all three of you fell asleep in the calm.

Jon on the other hand, did not even entertain that discussion. Kissing your forehead before cupping your cheeks to tell you with no uncertainty, “It’s cold tonight, darling. How about you just stay close to keep me warm.” When you had pointed out he in fact was the unusually warm one, he laughed brightly and pulled you in for a chaste kiss. “We keep each other warm.” Ghost both nights hopped up onto the bed as Jon turned you to face him, tucking your face into his chest and keeping you safe in his hold as Ghost lay partially across your feet and snuggling his head in the space your legs intertwined with Jons.

You were so much more well rested and in better both shape and spirits but the why eluded you. The sudden silent solidarity on going easy on you between them when neither indicated thats what they had talked about the other day. Now however, you walked alone to his chambers as evening fell on Winterfell. Jon had made only a scare appearance when food had been put out for supper, pulling you to press his lips to the side of your head muttering that he had somewhere to be, and for you to keep eating.

Robb had not made an appearance at all, but not long after were you to make your way. No guards outside his chamber doors, meaning either he was not in here as you thought or he had told them to leave him in peace for the night. Part of you wondered as you grasped the handle to the door. Did you just walk in? Did you knock first? You didn’t knock when entering Jons chambers without a specific call, but the foolishness then hit you. What would you walk in on of Robb that you weren’t supposed to see? What of him had you not seen or done by now?

As it turned out, that was the right answer. Slinking in as you only opened it enough for you before closing it behind you. Stood at the other side of the room, both much more casually dressed down as if settled in for the night, Robb and Jon stood speaking in hushed tones before both of them turned to the sound of you walking in.

You suddenly felt strangely overdressed, still put together with a proper gown when they looked much more comfortable and at ease. An eyebrow raised, your head tilted the slightest as your tone took on a much more mocking but confused edge. “Being summoned by a King is one thing, but two? A girl isn’t quite certain what to make of that.”

A smirk easy on his lips, Robb made his way over to you, a hand out to gesture to you. Taking your outstretched one, he gracefully pulled you over to him enough you grabbed at his forearms to steady yourself as he held low on your waist. “I imagine most would be nervous about that.”

A single nod of your head slightly to the side to indicate you understood such a stance, but you felt nothing of that nerve as the bright blue of Robbs eyes so easily watched you with that gentleness you for so long had missed. “Should I be?” More of a playful ask, but Robb’s face only flashed with a passing thought of what if you should, without committing to anything beyond the still faint smile.

“Only if you’ve been bad.”

Lips parting slightly, normally such rhetoric was saved for when he had you alone. Your head turning to glance over to Jon, leaning against the wall by Robbs window, arms crossed his chest. Jon looked at you with dark eyes shining in an intensity but he said nothing. Only gesturing with a nod for your focus to return back to Robb. Biting your tongue as you did, finally did you notice that Robb was not so far off either. Intense eyes but more bright as he had you close to him already, not that you understood what this was.

Continuing from where he had left off, still with a tone more flirtatious in nature but still serious to the degree it didn’t shift the air entirely. “Jon and I have been thinking it over, and we both realized you haven’t been very honest about how you’ve been feeling.” A protesting lie was so naturally to come out of your mouth that Robb cut you off. “That wasn’t a question, my love. I didn’t ask for an answer.” Without even thinking, you stayed silent right away. The beat passing between did that silence only make a grin grow on Robbs face. Turning to his brother in amusement, without letting go of you. “Is she only behaving this good because you’re here?”

Trying to glance between them, Jon only looked at you from the distance he stood at with the same dark eyes. Inhaling in thought Jon opened his mouth with a tone that matched in how it rasped out deeply. “She’s always good for me.”

The shiver running down your spine felt dizzying, you really felt lost so far, but Robb’s tone alone demanded you look back up to him. “I don’t even know why we planned any of this, Snow. You could’ve just ordered her to do this and she’d let us. Wouldn’t you, love?” He didn’t even look at Jon as he asked him it, nor did either brother take their eyes off you as Jon answered that he isn’t like that with you.

Biting down on your tongue harder, your heart picked up a tad as you tried to grasp what this mood was and came up with nothing. Finally asking, each word slow and careful as if you could offend either of them for what you didn’t even know about. “I’m sorry, did I do something? I don’t understand what’s happening right now.”

Still not bothering to move, Jon answered for Robb with a rasp that had your blood warm a bit. “Of course you don’t.” Meeting his eyes, there was no denying the free manner Jon scoured the length of your body and back. “It doesn't matter what we do, you’re too innocent for any of this to occur to you.”

Tilting your head back by your cheek to Robbs gaze once more, his hand begun trailing from hip to waist to hip, each movement taking a bit of your dress with him almost purposely. “Something about this arrangement isn’t working.” Before you could even think to spiral, Robb knowingly shut it down and fast. “You didn’t do anything wrong, but there is something, a few somethings that need to be said out in the open.” Gesturing over to where Jon still stood, “We’re terrible at sharing you.”

Your brows furrowing, you felt something akin to insulted on their own behalf. Jumping to a defence without hesitation. “I’ve never said that, I’ve never wanted either of you to think I’ve even implied that. We’re fine, we just need time-”

Echoing what now more then one person had said but Jon interjected. “If everything was fine, you wouldn’t be running off in the middle of the day just to sleep in peace without either of us.” You had no idea they knew about that. It was becoming a small little routine when it became too much between them. You would be confronted by Ghost and Greywind naturally sensing your distress and slumbering between the two large get warm direwolves for a little while had become a way to ease you during the day. But you didn’t want Robb and Jon to know, think you didn’t want to spend that time with them but you truly just needed a rest.

Grabbing you by the arms, Robb walked you backwards until the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed as he prompted you to sit down. Crouching before you, to look up with that sweet tenderness did Robb come off a little easier about it then Jons unmoving tenseness that you almost couldn’t read from this far away. “I’m not accusing you of anything. No one’s said that but us. We know we’re pushing you too much. Being too rough with you too often.”

A bit of fidgeting coming over you as you looked now at nothing trying to avoid it with a fluster and guilt in your chest. More muttering then anything, “I would’ve said something if I was struggling with-”

“No, you wouldn’t have.” Both your head and Robbs turned to Jon, your more wide eyed and guilty as his grey ones read through your excuses as easy as language came to him. “If we took you every single night until you were desperate for us to stop, can you look at me and tell me you’d honestly say anything?”

You couldn’t lie to Jon, and he knew it. He knew your tells better then anyone when you’d go to form one in your head even before speaking it outloud. Your head dropped a little, and a shake of no confirmed it for both men to hear. It begun to feel as if Robb was leading whatever this was, whereas Jon almost was here to ensure you were kept on a leash. Not let you get away with trying to talk your way out of them thinking you wanted them to change the arrangement they decided for your sake alone.

Reaching up to turn your head to look back at him, Robb let it run down your cheek and settle at the outside of your thigh comfortingly. “Why do you think we’ve taken it so easy on your for days, love? We suddenly stopped wanting you for an unknown reason?” Where your insecurity sat on that issue, you didn’t know for sure. “It’s not easy on us either. You fell in love with two jealous and possessive wolves, sharing you the way we have has been hard. Trading you every other night isn’t working, not being able to be with you properly when we need you the most just beacuse it isn’t our night isn’t working.”

“Are you saying..” You didn’t even want to entertain finishing that thought, you couldn’t handle that thought and Robb could feel it right away as your panic almost picked up considering it as a possibility.

Cupping your cheek, he moved to sit straighter with a smile comforting on his face. “Not even close. We’re saying we need to find a new way to share you. Something that works a little better for all three of us, so we don’t always feel like we’re missing you all the time, and so you don’t feel like you’re letting either of us down.”

It was when you hesitantly asked what they had in mind to start something different, did your eyes find themselves drawn to Jon. A rough exhale as he turned away from watching you with his jaw clenched something agitated strongly. Through more gritted teeth you could only hear not see him say it. “Just tell her.”

The hand by your leg drifted up to your cheek again, only to slide to the back of your head a little more firmly as Robb leaned up even further to you. His warm voice less soothing and much more alluring as your breathing no doubt begun to pick up. His eyes glancing to your lips, downwards and then back much more satisfied. “You and I are going to spend some time with each other, then you and Jon are going to spend some time with each other. Then we see how well you do between us.”

Waiting for it to connect, your eyes widened as you looked between them. “You-”

Jon still hadn’t looked back at you, almost more rough and deep his voice turned trying to force it out. “You know what that means, darling.” The lightheaded wave surging through you that indeed you did, but Robb had said- “Me and Robb agreed on this, but you have to say yes.” Finally looking towards you, Jon certainly held more intense scrutiny then Robb did, looking for any sigh you were about to lie just to say yes for them.

But something about it didn’t..not appeal to you. It was nerve wracking but in truth everything about the two of them made you nervous, especially so physically. “How is that going to work? One leaves the-”

Robb interjected that time. “Neither of us are leaving this room. You do all of this in front of us. We share your body already, there’s no reason to hide it.” Hand at the back of your neck tightening somewhat until you let out a shaking exhale, not much way of hiding the growing need behind it. “Is that a yes?”

You nodded, but Jon was short and almost in a command when he nearly growled, “Outloud.”

Heart picking up in speed, those nerves suddenly flowed through your bloodstream, leaving you feeling lost just sitting there so still and yet this felt strange to want between both of them after so many weeks of a heavy, heavy guilt. “I do. I want this.”

Robb and Jon looked to the other, waiting for a single nod from his brother did Robb turn back to you, pulling you to stand with him. Not a man to waste his own time, Robb almost instantly pulled off the shall which hung around you letting it drop of the ground. One clasp in the front of your dress, then another, then four more before it fell open to the shift underneath.

His eyes brightening as they did turn to something leering with a smirk. Peeking back up to your gaze, you knew he meant and succeeded at the tone perfect to seduce you. “My brother was right. You are so much better when it’s going to always be this easy to undress you.” Pushing it from your shoulders, your arms moved flat down to allow it to drop. The second his hands grabbed at your shift did Jon tell him to stop.

Turning his head with a glare, in your heavy breathing did you find focus enough to tell Jons hands crossed his chest were formed into fists as if needing to clench them roughly to stay grounded while the rest of him begun to look much more like a caged wolf, desperate to be let out in the feral wild. Speaking directly to Robb he let out, “You can’t have everything.”

Peeling his gaze back to you, Robb ran his hand down your side, thumb teasing the curve of your breast before settling on your hips, your own hands up to his waist with nowhere else to go. “I had all of her first, Snow. The first cock she ever took was mine.”

You had not the senses to notice how worked up and unstable he was making Jon as he continued to not invade the two of you. But your core felt a warmth as such a memory came to you once more. The way he made you watch, how little he gave you time to truly work up slowly until he fucked you like a man chasing his end with perversion. And how much you liked it.

“Do you want to take me again?” One hand drew up your arm, over your collarbones and to your neck before running his fingers over your bottom lip, slightly pulling at it almost to force it to drop open. “Show him that I’m the one who taught you how to take a mans cock so deep down your throat? Show him that you sucked my cock only once and it became all you ever wanted to do.”

Oh the flustering embarrassment wanted to throw up in a whine but you bit your tongue trying to not protest, tempting Robb to call out such an obvious lie. You muttered a half truth, but it only made Robb grin in such a dark, wolfish manner. “I thought it was normal to like it.”

Pulling down your lip, Robb held not an ounce of shame as he let his thumb slide into your mouth. Pressing somewhat against your tongue as he raised a knowing brow, you closed your lips around it and gently sucked. The darkening in his eyes spoke you did the right thing. “It isn’t normal that good girls let a man spill down their throats as if it was to be your last meal. It isn’t normal for a good girl to be so quick to drop to her knees the moment a man even suggests he might want you. You’ve never been a good girl, and you know why.”

Nodding somewhat, Robb let his other hand begin unlacing what he could of his breeches from there. Gesturing downwards without removing his thumb, in fact as you sucked he pushed it deeper to the knuckle. Just as he pulled it out for you to try and gasp a bit for air, did you too sink to your knees in front of him.

Safe it was, somewhere in the back of your mind telling you, not to look at Jon yet. Not to agitate the wild white wolf before it was apparently his turn. Instead Robb laughed darkly down to you as he tossed off his softer shirt exposing his chest to his warmer chambers. “I’ll let Jon have you when you’ve proved you earned it. Good girls don’t deserve the things he wants to do to you. And you want to prove to Jon you’re a good girl right?” Shamelessly you nodded, a fog filling your head as it did warm between your legs. “Pull me out then. Get to work.”

You hadn’t even noticed Jon pacing to the other side of the room. Forearm raised up braced against the stone of Robbs fireplace, dark eyes and jaw heavy set as he found himself unable to not look at you the whole time. As if he needed to know. Needed to know for himself that if Robb could speak to you this way, then Jon knew, there was practically nothing he couldn’t do to you anymore. A wave of need flying through him as he turned to see you slowly unlacing his brothers pants when Jon turned away with his eyes closing at the thought.

That Jon did have a set of chains he had always thought you’d look beautiful in.

Slowly did you begun to pull the material down his legs, leaving him in nothing and not too an ounce of shame. Grasping the back of your head, you needed no more instructions. Gentle to rasp his long length, your eyes fluttered closed as you pressed a kiss to the tip. Small as a peck and downward his length one side then the other. Only just briefly using your tongue to leave any sort of proper wet trace for him, trying very much to ignore the way you could feel Jons eyes staring at you.

Only starting with the tip of Robbs cock, he shifted his hand to a position better he could control you with, pushing you down right away, taking away your ability to go slowly. A whine suddenly erupted from your chest as your hands reached up suddenly to grasp at his thighs to try and steady yourself.

The pressure so deep was overwhelming, almost panic inducing if you did not also love how as soon as he got you just over halfway did Robb move you off. The same spot he pushed and pulled your head, your mouth warm soaking his cock as your tongue tried to keep up in any favourable manner. Still just over halfway when you heard Robbs voice, more strained but heavy in a command. “Do the rest yourself.”

Stopping for a moment, trying to will your hear to settle you let your hands drop to brace against the stone floor. Gently moving until just the tip of his cock was in your mouth, you sunk deep back down the length that always set your heart on edge. Filling your mouth, you felt that lighter fog grow more in your head that Robb was so good at pulling from you. Something as you bobbed up and down his cock did you know he was special in that sense.

He could throw you around and talk down to you, make strict commands with little to no praise or reward and everytime it made that fog grow. A feeling that was as if you were an object to hand yourself over to him. A pleasure toy he could order around and you felt even more sensitive all over knowing that. The hand in your hair wasn’t even for you. It was for Robb to control whenever he wanted, he wanted you to know he could control you at any point.

Inch by inch you slowly begun to take his whole length, your arms braced down shaking slightly at the feeling but you never pulled off. Your saliva mixed with what of his cock already begun to leak for you adding both to a taste you needed and an ease at how deep you took him.

Just as you came close to taking his whole length, did Robbs hand tighten to force you to stop. Looking down at you, you kept his gaze with a whine inside you as he dragged you mostly off his cock before sinking you down. Forcing every inch to drag heavy along your tongue until your nose was pressed into the coarse hair around the base of his cock.

That’s when he started to speak again. “I don’t know how you can look at how much she likes it, and not want her to do it every single night.” Gods, he was making it worse. A flustering humiliation as if exposed for such a way you let Robb use your mouth that Jon didn’t enjoy that much, and too how worked up he was purposely trying to make his brother feel. Not knowing Jon never looked at his brother once, just you. Hand clenched high on the wall as his muscles shook watching how you were just kept so deep down Robbs cock.

Your palms tensing at the feeling, knowing you weren’t supposed to alleviate the pressure making your heart pound by grabbing onto him. You knew the rules and your head felt so foggy without Robb even touching you beyond a gentle passing of his hand to your breast down your body. Too you felt Jons eyes no doubt matching that of a wild animal, he said nothing as Robb spoke again.

“You may not have known many women, brother. But none of them are like this one.” His eyes tearing back down to you as if expecting you were still waiting for him to return your gaze, which you certainly were. Tears forming in the sting behind your eyes, the slightest hint of saliva threatening to fall beyond your lips the longer you were kept taking his whole length. Still, he spoke. “Whores will put on an act and pretend they like it, but she truly does. Men can do anything to a whore because they paid for that right. But I know you already know. She’s better then a whore. She acts one because she will do anything you say, and she always likes it. You think how I shove her pretty face into my bed and fuck her from behind like a brute isn’t nice? Well, she doesn’t want nice, does she? Any man can give her nice. She’s not a stag anymore, Snow. A little she-wolf. And wolves don’t fuck nice.”

None of it was really said at or even for Jon. It was humiliation. It was still about you. Spilling such perverse secrets about you outloud as if that was going to change the way Jon looked at you, but with the confidence that it wouldn’t. It was meant to make you wet without ever coming close to touching you and you hated that embarrassing you as such worked so well. You’d clench your thighs together if you thought you could get away with it.

For Jon though? He was nearly digging his nails into his palms. He had to look away again. Unable to watch the way his brother and you looked each other in the eye as he was that deep inside of you. But Jon knew what it felt like. Robb was slightly longer, but Jon certainly was thicker. More then being mean, Jon knew letting you use your mouth on his cock was harder to justify. There never had been a time you sucked his cock, and not at some point, tried to hide the fact that you woke the next morning with your jaw slightly sore.

He stretched you open no matter where he fucked you, and still you took it. But he didn’t understand any of what else he was seeing. The way Robb barley needed to touch you, could talk down and embarrass you with that confidence in comparing you to a whore. It baffled him, why his brother wasn’t choking on the inside at how little he was touching you. How he didn’t destroy his own heart by speaking to you in such a way. But yet you wanted all of it as much as you wanted the opposite Jon gave you. His eyes kept tearing back to look at you, and he knew you felt his gaze, but he could never stay watching. He hated this idea, it was his and he hated it, but his cock throbbed under his breaches thinking about how much he wanted his turn with you already.

Slowly did Robb begin controlling you again, moving you up and down his length making it obvious when pulled more off how much you were soaking him. Good, he’d keep it that way. It would only help.

Heart racing inside your chest, you felt Robb begin to move faster and faster, before simply uncaringly shoving you back down. Coarse hair scratching at your face but your eyes sat closed with a sound of need vibrating against his cock throbbing in your mouth. Deep as he was, there was nowhere for his seed to go but sink down into your stomach as soon as he was to finish. And you could tell he was close.

Muttering your name with gritted teeth, he didn’t pull you off at all to look at you, merely holding your hair so tight it made you cry perfectly around him. Gritting out simply when he finally felt his orgasm peak, he too held you against him. “Fuck..”

The sounds of muffled gags filled the air. His warm seed coming out in spurts that felt as if they never ended. You struggled to even swallow with his cock so far in your mouth, but you wouldn’t be allowed to come off until you took all of it. The tears fell freely then, your hands tense against the floor and your heart and head so foggy and lightheaded that you hardly could hear what sounds you were making beyond swallowing and gagging.

Only once you had nothing else left, you normally would’ve been good. Clean his cock of everything else but Robb pulled you from him right away. Leaving slight trails of saliva and his seed visible against your lips as you gasped for air so suddenly. Running along the back of your neck massagingly, Robbs other hand tilted your head up. Cupping the side of your face and running his thumb over your cheek. You knew you looked up brightly at him as if to ask in silence if you were good. Robb only nodded, a bit of a smug pride in him.

Slowly your heart slowed, lungs filling with air as Robb slowly pulled you up. Not to stand, but sitting you back on the edge of the bed. Smart it seemed Robb was though, the feeling of metal finding your lips and prompting you to drink. The taste of wine unexpected, but you realized in the back of your mind it was to wash out the rest of traces of you. Not enough to give even any change to you, but certainly enough that it wiped clean your mouth as if starting you fresh.

Only a panic was felt in your confused fog of a head at the sudden feeling of Robb pulling away, but replaced just as fast as Jons striking warmth suddenly kneeled in front of you. Cupping your cheeks as you caught your breath, your hands gripping the fur below them as your eyes struggled to stay open yet. “Are you alright?” You nodded, but running one hand down your hair soothingly, Jon leaned closer with a worried look in his narrow eyes. “Catch your breath first.” Your heart finally settled enough you didn’t need to feel that strain in your lungs when Jons voice made your eyes open to find his grey ones both bright and yet dark and black. “There we go.”

Leaning enough he could nudge his nose against yours, you felt relieved that his curls were loose. Resting your forehead against him, the dancing of his curls hit your skin as your hands moved to grasp at his shoulders. A hand ran soothingly over the back of your head until he gestured for you to look back at him.

Your eyes slipped closed first, following his lead as he leaned in to press his lips to yours. Now the only thing for him was the taste of wine and you. Not urgent not even greedy, Jon deepened it despite his kiss being slow. Something which exploded into your mouth of a passion he had not words to express whatsoever. Only pulling away after pressing two more shorter kisses to your lips. Jon waited until you opened your eyes to meet his gaze again. “I’m going to take this off you.” Gesturing down to your shift.

Nodding, you barley had to move, Jon pulling it up your hips and waist before your hands cooperated to let him take it all off, letting it drop blindly beside him. Sighing deeply as he looked over your now bare frame, that dark need returned quickly as did the tension in his jaw. One hand of yours curled back into his hair, the other gripping his shoulder as you waited. That time you noticed Robb freely looking at you. His cock still hard as ever and soaked. Covered in both your mouth and his own seed, but leaning against a wall closer then Jon was before by the window, arms crossed with a needing yet curious gaze.

Drawing your focus back to him as Jon muttered your name, one hand moved down to your breast. Rough, calloused hand groping the plush skin as you moved into his touch. Thumb running over your nipple already toying with what he would normally do, as his other hand too drifted to the other. Grasping handfuls of both breasts, Jon groped roughly. Squeezing as he pushed them together and back as your eyes closed and a small cry left you.

“You can play later, Snow-”

Head turning over to glare at him, Jons voice was but a deep husk biting in anger. “I didn’t interrupt you.” A stare off before Robb relented, leaning back again to the wall as Jons eyes did not soften as he returned to your gaze. Voice softer, but the husk shuttered your insides in a warmth no matter what. “She deserves to be touched.”

Small sighs leaving you that wanted to turn to moans as the sparks he pulled as his fingers twisted at the buds in the perfect point of pain. Trying to stammer a voice out, but each twist and pull and grope caught you enough that no sound could be said unless forced out between breathless sounds of gentle need. “What are...what do you want me to do?”

It was a genuine ask, what he wanted. But Jon left one breast to cup your cheek. Hooded eyes staring back at his leering ones. “Nothing. You know that. Come on.” Suddenly moving to lay you back against the bed, your heart begun to race all over again as Jon positioned your legs to hand the right amount off the edge with your hips. Pulling his own shirt off, he leaned up over you to capture your lips with his. The slightest tease of his tongue against your bottom lip but he pulled away just as you parted them. Kissing a path of light and gentle presses of hips lips down your neck, between the valley of your breasts, stomach and finally kneeling on the ground in front of you with his hands on your thighs.

Sliding to your knees, Jon pulled them apart as your eyes closed and tongue bitten down on, avoiding the sight which flustered you so. First bracing them to your thighs as if prepared to push you wider for him, Jon was slow in his start. Much more innocent kisses left to the inside of your thighs, but the further to your soaking warmth he got, the more rough it was. The more he left a sucking bruise, the more he dug his teeth just enough he could pull away and see indents. One side matching the other before finally Jon pushed one leg open wider, and bracing the other up on his shoulder, letting your calf and foot rest falling down against his back.

Not that you watched, but black eyes scoured the sight. A darkness of the warmth you gifted his mouth but not yet diving in. Jon was gentle, letting his nose brush up against your clit as if to ease you into it. The first swipe of his tongue to your clit, a small whine burst from you like a shy moan trying to hide itself, your hands on either side of you grasping the furs between your fingers on the bed. One lick then the next, gentle and sweet as if a treat being given.

Yet it was not a treat, Jon treated you as if you were the feast. Tongue running flat against your clit, suddenly sucking the bundle of nerves sharply. Small patterns made, you could hardly tell what they were beyond the rising heat in your core, the buzzing around it from the feeling growing hot within you. Lick after luck, a gentle sucking but cut off by his teeth ever so slightly grazing against it and your back arched up off the bed without thinking.

Jons hands at your hips firmly, allowed one to sit at your stomach and force you back down to the bed without any other words. So worked up you felt, your head growing heavy and foggy ever more as Jons tongue drew you closer and closer, just tight motions to your clit without mercy, the sloppiness of it knowing it wasn’t just for you. Grasping your hips both tightly, you would’ve jumped in his hold otherwise as the first one snapped. A twisting metal inside of you that had been chipped away at slowly and yet Jon gave no time for you to enjoy it alone.

The moment your orgasm first flowed over you, did Jon run his mouth over your core with what was no other then a greed. Tongue fat and flat as he soaked up everything he could taste with a grunt. Pulling your hips more to his mouth like a starving animal. Soaking you more then he even was you, Jon feasted upon the sweetness of your cunt.

Running inside of you before tracing a path to your clit and back. His mouth never ceasing his work as growls came from his chest vibrating against you. One hand of yours suddenly drifted to his hair, not harsh in his curls but almost the way you’d grasp at his hand when you needed his touch more. Burning inside of you, Jons tongue felt so good against you that you didn’t even hear the beginning soft whispered pleas of his name.

Drinking from you like an animal at a watering lake, one hand ran down from your hip more to grasp at the meat of your ass, not just making you lay closer to his mouth but raising you up somewhat from the bed so he had even easier access. A mess he made of you as you felt the white hot twisting again but the nerves in your body filling your blood with a pleasure you couldn’t do anything about but lay and take it.

To Robb, you were an utter sight. Lips parted open in gasps and cries, eyes unable to even look at a bit of what was being done to you and your body arching on display as your hand yet was so gentle in Jons curls. He had never seen you this way, or had you this way, and again did the jealousy flare up that Jon had this over him. Without much experience of this himself, Robb still could tell almost with an anger, that Jon certainly knew what he was fucking doing. The man drank from your cunt like an expert beyond learning.

Running along you from cunt to clit and back, Jons own mouth was so warm against you and a sweat begun to cover you. His heat bleeding into yours. Growls leaving him at the taste, Jon would more likely attack the first man who tried interrupting him now then parting from you. He was utterly addicted to your taste, without even meaning to lead you there Jon pulled you to a second orgasm and yet as you gifted his mouth more as you shook around him, Jon only was more aggressive about it. Never let up.

Tears that time fell from your eyes but at how overwhelmed the sting would become the longer Jon kept you there, the more he refused to ease up because he knew your limits and you didn’t. One orgasm again, then another before he had anywhere near his fill and you felt weak in your bones. Tearing from you, Jons forehead rested against your mouth to catch his own rough breath before his black eyes tore up to his brother. “Remember what I said?” Robb must have nodded because Jon continued to rasp out, “Get her up.”

Eyes opening, you tried pushing up on your elbows to see him, but Jon suddenly rose as he uncaringly shoved the rest of his clothes off, standing before the bed never looking away from you at his thick length taunting you. Robb it seemed, had no qualms about snatching you up, kneeling bare on the bed behind you with a hand grasping at your neck with one and pulling at your hip with another to get you to sit more on your heels in front of him. Muttering low in your ear but not enough Jon couldn’t hear him.

“So many rules he has for you. You let him control you, don’t you? I order you around, my love, but you let Jon own you.” In truth, he didn’t seem angry about it and it also was not a lie in your fog of a mind and you nodded. The hand at the base of your neck only tightening a second to get your eyes to stop fluttering closed. “If to me you’re a whore, to Jon you’re nothing more then a toy to fuck, aren’t you?”

Biting your tongue noticeably hard you nodded, Robb laughing dark in your ear as he moved you to pay attention as Jon kneeled in front of you. A hand coming to the opposite side of the arm at your neck of Robbs, Jon cupped your cheek. His other holding something you had yet to notice. “If you don’t want this, it’s alright to tell us. Now, or at any point. You say anything, and this stops.”

Trying to shake your head, Robb moved his hand at your neck more down to sit at your waist awfully high close to your breast. “I won’t want to-”

Tugging you to look at him more seriously there was no room for question here. “No, darling. You tell me the second you stop enjoying it. No matter how close either me or Robb is, you tell us you can’t do this anymore and we stop.” Robb assuring in your ear that the last thing they want is for you to feel too guilty to say no. Leaning forward to catch your eyes Jon asked, “Do you understand what we’re about to do?”

A very quiet “Yes.” And Jon handed something to Robb behind you.

As he grabbed whatever the vial you saw was, he allowed Jon to suddenly grab you. Pulling you up to straddle him perched just against his cock near red from the blood pooling there for so long you imagined. His thumb moving down to run over your clit, you jumped at the sudden spark but not nearly enough to avoid the way Jons other hand grabbed at your side. Holding you steady right up against him the moment you felt it. Some kind of oil on Robbs fingers as he pulled one cheek of your ass wider and sunk one finger to the knuckle in your ass.

Head dropping to Jons shoulder he buried his face in your hair with gentle shushes as one hand ran over the sweating strands knowing it always was a lot to do this. Slowly one by one, Robb moved his fingers in and out of you. Opening you up perfectly for him despite the strange feeling of a pain and pleasure unique to such an act. Robb hissed close in your ear to his brother. “Can she take three?”

You felt Jons eyes staring down at you, and a single nod was given. Suddenly the fingers at your clit slid down, two sinking deep into your soaking entrance as Robb pushed a third finger into your ass. Full in both, tried to raise your head up to say anything of need, but words failed as you were nothing but a mess between them.

Cupping your cheek to look at him, Jons eyes tore up and down with almost a disbelief. “You’re a mess, darling.” Both your hands at his shoulders, you just nodded with a cry making your head drop. So suddenly without any notice, did the feeling and sensitivity draw another orgasm from you. Robb not stopping how deeply he let his fingers sink in and out of you, used his other hand to brace your hip steady as Jon kept two of his to the knuckle inside your cunt as he held your forehead to his to keep you grounded to something. Muttering in a rasp once more, “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

Trying to shake your head as your thighs shook, Robb suddenly leaned more over your shoulder to bite at your ear and down to your neck. “Letting us do this to you? Letting both of us take out turns fucking you every night the way we want? Letting us both love you no matter how much it pisses the other one off? You are perfect for us, love.”

You had not the head space to quite comprehend what he was saying not did they expect you too. “She ready?” Jon must’ve been asking Robb that, beacuse whatever mumble Robb said in return Jon pulled his fingers from you and grasped at your hips. Moving you up to his cock like a boneless rag doll, looking to your eyes Jons were black and once more serious as anything. “Anytime, darling. Any time you want to stop, I promise.”

You didn’t respond, and Jon must not have expected you too with the mess you were. Sinking you down not so slowly, taking his thick length even with how much he prepared you was always something that shocked you. Grasping around his shoulders and back with a cry, the stretch and the fill was such a pain and pleasure that your whole body felt it was a burning inferno. But he wasn’t done, or they weren’t.

The tip of Robbs cock at your ass, he cupped your neck and jaw to slightly turn you to look at him, only to be met with hooded eyes, and a glassy look over them that spoke you were not quite going to be totally aware. “I’d tell you to breath, but pretty little whores have done this a thousand times haven’t they?”

Jon almost protested at that language now, but you just nodded meekly. Jon as he cupped your cheek to look at you, also caught that glassy look behind your eyes. Sharing a worried look to Robb, he was assuring in his nod that you were alright. And in fact, putting you into such a space seemed to be the best for this. Not much of a flinch but a gasping cry into a begging sob as Robb slowly filled your ass with his cock.

Sinking every single inch and savouring how tight you were gripping him, Jon was hardly better off with the way your walls clenched around him. A growl making his breathing more unsteady as he now kept your eyes on his, another hand steady at your hip the opposite of Robb. A small attempt to call to you, “Darling..”

But you nodded as if he gave you a command, hands perched on his shoulders again you sat up to try and move, wanting to feel him fill you again and again but both wolves kept you steady. Robb seemed to know the manner which to speak to you here, “You don’t give, love. You just take.” That nod matched what you gave Jon.

Your head was hardly out of the clouds, nothing but such perfect pleasure as both cocks long and thick filled you every inch and you didn’t understand how you were supposed to be anything else but this. Robb moved first, easing in and out of your ass as the strangeness subsided to an unusual desire making cries from you much more loud and distinct.

At the same time, almost in matching, Jon begun moving you up and down his cock. Slow it started, both finding their pace as you cried between them with no words. Just a fire inside of you that wasn’t being put out and all you could think was maybe it was to be found in being filled by both of them just like this. Robb pressed close to your back and Jon your front, you were warm and trapped between two unbearably strong wolves.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin was something else in that room. The manner which Jon and Robb could work in rhythm of how to fuck you faster and harder and never break that harmony of sinking so deeply inside of you. Deeper and rougher Jons cock dragged thick against your sensitive walls and Robb dragged against something you didn’t even understand but was nothing but moans to accept.

“Gods, please...” You barley had a voice, a high pitched breathless beg as tears fell from you and yet you moved with them as if you were born to it. Rougher and rougher both of them begun to pound into you, in one moment Robb could drag you back against him.

Mutters in your ear between each rough fuck inside of your ass, “Innocent little wife, taking two wolves like a perfect slut. A toy just for us.”

You’d say yes in a moan, only for Jon to pull you back to him and fuck up into you each time he bounced you back down onto his cock. A rough, urgent and biting kiss to your lips, saliva connected you both as you found his eyes. Close enough his hot breath danced across your sweating skin. “You were made for us, darling. Fuck- the old gods created you just for us, for this.” Another kiss he gave you no chance to respond not that you could.

Flooding you, your orgasm twisted that coil and released it in a snap as fast as it too begun to wrap around that burning inside your core before it was even over. Robb was so deep and so unforgiving the way he fucked into your ass over and over, treating you with all the aggression you’d see on his face during the war but being taken out by your ass surrounding his cock like a vice he had to fuck harder just to sink into. Jons cock so deep and so thick you felt as if his promise of a child was to come true in this position alone. Sometimes finding his eyes but you were not at all aware of the beauty they found in how starry eyed you seemed to be in taking both of them as mean as they were inside of you.

Robb hissed as he suddenly held your hip a lot tighter, his thrusts rough and slower out of sync with Jons as he found himself close. “You better be close, Snow because she’s too fucking tight to hold back anymore.”

Kissing you once more, Jon actually slowed down. Never letting you more then halfway off his cock before sinking you back down slowly but matching his brothers pace. Rasping in an entrancing tone to you, “Can you come for us one more time, darling?” Nodding yes, he made you say it outloud with a more stern order and you nearly begged it.

Trying to move against both of them, Robb rested his forehead against the back of yours as both hands were grasping you low more by your ass to ensure he could pound into you with as much force as he could with every cry you gave him. Jon fucked up slowly into as he cupped your cheek with one hand and guided you to bounce slowly up and down his cock with the other.

He didn’t need to do much, but pulling you gentle to his lips. Your gasp letting him slip his tongue inside of you, your grasped at his curls desperately as both mens cocks throbbed inside of you to the point it flushed you with that perfect explosion of heat. Burning through you, Jon didn’t let you go. Never let your moans and cries leave anywhere but his kiss and yet the moment you clenched around both men, did their ends find you.

Robb pushing himself deep inside of you, as he finally came. Spurting ropes of seed inside of you endlessly as he moved his head to kiss at your neck as he came down. Jon refused to let your kiss go, suddenly pulling you down far onto his cock as much as possible before he too finished. His cum was noticeably thicker and much hotter compared to Robb who filled you more.

You fell limp against Jon when he finally pulled from your lips. Muttering your name, Jon suddenly while still inside you, grasped at your sweating hair and cupping your cheek with another. Nudging your nose with his me rasped in a gentle urgency. “It’s alright, you’re alright you did perfect for us. You’re perfect.”

Robb kissed his way to your ear, “No man but us has ever had such a beautiful, sweet wife to fill over and over.” Pressing more kisses to your neck, both wolves kept you there and on their cocks until they were even ready to think of leaving your tight warmth. Robb started first, shushing and consoling you each and every inch until you had none left of his length. Cupping your ass with one hand and running his other up and down your waist, he did the same of gentle words as Jon pulled out of you too.

You knew you were awake, but you felt little but the warmth between them, their seed which spilled double so deep inside of you and the phantom sensations as if they were still inside you. Barley hearing Robb muttering to Jon, “She’ll be like this for a while. Lay her down.”

Twisting you, Jon laid you on your side, an ease for the much rougher act for your ass, but parting your thighs from one another to ease the tension of strain he knew he gave you. Without thought, as Robb laid on this side at your back with a soothing hand over your back and side, you found yourself seeking out Jons warm front. Pulling you close to curl into his chest, his grasp was by your hip more as he let the top of his head rest in your hair. Your own head as such, leaned back a little bit, seeing out Robb who pressed a kiss to your neck and the back of your head as he nuzzled against it. A genuine whisper on your lips, you hadn’t fallen asleep but you were too lost to the clouds of Robb and Jon to have any energy but lay cuddled between them. “I love you.”

In truth, after a moment, both men chuckled a bit realizing that was likely at both of them. Robb moved to mutter it back in your ear before pressing a kiss to the skin below it, Jon tilting you enough to press a kiss murmuring it against your forehead. Again did your body seem to seek both of them out to go back to the comforting way they held you.

Neither Robb nor Jon addressed that they lay with you here, in the exact way they had stumbled upon you napping with Greywind and Ghost. All four of them were your wolves, as you were all four of theirs to protect and treasure.

As you lulled to sleep, your mind faded into a dream of the sounds and sight of a dark haired baby boy with bright green eyes staring up at you, a wolf placing him in your arms and pulling you close to kiss the side of your head as the feeling that something which was missing might be found here.

Somewhere in another dream was a life you wondered if it was your true one, and this was the distant fantasy.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Whatever souls are made of (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Aemond and his wife explore touch.  Can be read as a part two of DIFM or a stand alone. 

Warnings: Mentions of SA (Heavily) Purity culture, internalized misogyny. Aemond’s POV.  Angst. Fluff. As always, more detailed warnings at the end after the dots.

A/N: I do not have the amount of time needed to create my own philosophy, so I took western’s ideas. Title is from Wuthering Heights.

Aemond didn’t believe in soulmates. Whatever the maesters of old had said about them, be it either the same beings separated by the gods or people made from the same substances, it was not real. As any educated young man, he had often wondered what it was that gave humans life. Rationally speaking, there had to be something that set us apart from other beings and at the same time was finite, else people wouldn’t die. Aemond had settled for calling it soul because it seemed to be a sort of universal denomination. It didn’t mean he believed in all the romance related tales. 

Then, his mother had brought him you. 

“Just think it over, darling.” Alicent had said, laying a careful hand on his shoulder. He had felt the urge to nuzzle into her touch, pull her in for a hug, yet he couldn’t. He couldn't because there were secrets on top of secrets all boiling up in his throat, behind his eye, and sometimes he felt so utterly lonely he wanted to scream them all. All the hatred and fear and solitude, out loud and open. But this time, Aemond stayed behind his wall and didn’t speak, merely humming. 

“I have found you the perfect wife. She likes reading, and she is very learned. Dutiful, too. You would never have to worry, with her at your side. She is not like your sister.” And Aemond knew she was not thinking of sweet, demure Helaena. “She is demure and devout, and has the most charming eyes I have ever seen.” 

“Mother…” Because, really, he was not ready for marriage. The idea of having to be so vulnerable again frightened him. Yet at the same time, he craved the feeling of companionship it could bring, if done right. Aemond often wondered if that was what his sister and Daemon had, despite being so awful. They seemed happy. Partners in crime, the wretched pair. He wondered, too, if that sense of companionship was what Aegon was forever looking for in the women of Flea Bottom. If he was never meant to have it, if there was something deeply wrong with him for not enjoying what other men seemed to enjoy like that. 

“Aemond, love. I really think she is perfect for you. You will understand when you meet her, it is as if the Seven made her for you. You two are so alike… As if you were soulmates.” 

And there it was, that dreaded word again. Despite being broken, and missing pieces, Aemond didn’t think there was anyone one in the world that could be his other half. He was alone. He had always been. Yet… If what his mother said was actually true… If there was a woman who shared his interests and was polite and demure… 

“I’ll do it.” The words bubbled out of his throat, uncontrolled. At least this way, he could have someone to talk to. Perhaps it wouldn’t be love, but if the girl truly liked the same things as Aemond did, they could talk, occasionally. And if she was as dutiful as his mother said, his chambers would never be empty again. Because definitely, she would be there with him sometimes, she would sit by the fire and read, or embroider, and perhaps it would be enough, even if they never touched. “I will court her.” 

Aemond has this dream, every so often. It’s not what you would expect, of a dragon rider. He never dreams of falling, or of the day he claimed Vhagar. He should, probably. A normal person would get caught up on what if’s, or even on the events of that night, he will not ever speak aloud. Perhaps, on the pain of losing an eye. Aemond is not normal, though. He dreamed so much of being out in the snow, you might take him for a northern. 

There was a window on the side of the Red Keep. It overlooked the dinning hall, clearly built to allow the common folk to watch their King dine. It has not been used in very long years. Aemond dreams about it often, of standing out of it on a cold day, locked out of his home as his family dines. Of banging his fists on it until the wood nearly cracks. He screams with all his might, but soon the cold is on him, turning his breath into crystals, his blood into ice. Until Aemond is nothing but an empty husk, robbed of soul. And the most terrifying thing about the dream is his family never look up or notice he is not at the table, not even when his cold, lifeless body thumps against the snow. 

I’ll tell you a secret. It was not the pain of losing an eye, what traumatized him. Nor the scorn from the rest of the court. 

“…Thoroughly questioned!” 

“Where did you hear such lies, boy?” 

Aemond knows you can’t die in a dream. He has died on those many times. Yet still, it always takes him an embarrassing amount of time to realize the tears on his face are not frozen and that he is in his chambers. And even then, he feels lost and adrift in the world. 

The day he meets you has to be the happiest day of his life. You come out of your carriage, aided by the ever helpful hand of Ser Criston. His mother is also there, practically shining with happiness. Aemond realizes, then, the whole soulmates thing is an utter load of shit. 

There is no way a woman as beautiful as you could be the other half of his soul. He is too broken, too jagged and dirty to be the other half of someone as pure as you. Aemond will not be able to remember later what color was your dress, or if you were wearing a cloak with your house’s sigil on it. He remembers your smile, the way the sun lighted up half your face, and a pair of intelligent eyes, nervously trailing over him. 

You curtsy perfectly. You say all the right words. And Aemond then takes your arm, and you have to shift because you are holding a book in your hands. It’s a very well-worn copy of Ten Thousand Ships. It’s clearly a parting gift from your family. It’s not often that someone gets to take a book with them in a world like yours. Most nobles families keep their books well locked and cared for, not in the hands of young maidens. When you start to chatter a mile per minute on rhoynar history, Aemond knows he is a goner. 

Aemond thinks of taking you. It will be his right, or so everyone keeps repeating. He spends hours on his knees, trying to erase the sinful urges from his mind. The more he falls for you, the more he wishes for closeness. The more time you spend together, the curve of your neck, your plush lips, they all look more enticing. Yet, the idea of touching another and being wrong halts him. The spell would be broken, then. It would be clear to both of you he is not yours. You would know then he has too many rough edges, that Aemond was not built to love. 

The first kiss you share is on the Sept. You look up at home, eyes warm and soft, but also frightened. It is then he decides he can’t do to you what was done to him. Not only for his sake, but because Aemond’s heart breaks when he thinks of you sporting the same broken look he has. He can’t bear the thought of you squealing in pain, eyes welling up in tears, body left used and discarded. He thinks of Aegon and the serving girl, of his mother, and wonders what kind of man can be so ruthless. 

In his nightmares, you stand facing him, a scar over your eye.

Still, he marries you. The soft balm of your companionship lulls him into a false sense of safety. This must be what heaven feels like, Aemond thinks, as he watches you try and fail to learn and play Cyvasse. It’s all perfect. Until his mother starts demanding a grandson. 

Telling you the truth has to be the most difficult thing he has ever done. Aemond only does because you have a right to know. He has seen how you look at babies, with such longing eyes. And once he tells you, he is astonished at your kindness. You hold him, as Aemond tells you of that horrible night when he was thirteen. Of the feeling of being a prisoner of his own body, unable to stop the situation. Of the shame. So much shame. 

“Your body understands what it wants, my Prince.” Sticky, sickly sweet. Crooned in his ear as he suffocated, as he screamed inside for it to stop, to stop, to-

Aemond doesn’t actually remember how much he tells you. These are the facts. As he boils over, words bubbling up from his throat, you hold him. And it doesn’t feel like you are suffocating him, but as if he is the one clinging to you like a drowning man clings to a lifeline. 

You show up with research a week later. He has noticed your touch becoming more hesitant, of late. Aemond had wondered what that was all about. You had tackled the problem as you often did, his wonderful smart girl. Diagrams, sources, even a speech prepared. He admired that of you, your attention to detail. 

You are too perfect of a being to be his. The Seven must have made a mistake, placing you on his path. But Aemond is too selfish of a man to let you go. 

It’s that thought, what makes him brave enough to step behind you one night, as you are unpinning your hair. He is no stranger to your night routine, after so many nights spent together, talking until your eyelids drop and giggling like children over board or card games instead of performing your marital duties. 

Aemond is careful to let you notice him approaching in the mirror, eye shining in the low light. You look like the Maiden come to life, the light from the fire giving your skin a faint golden glow. Foreign, yet so familiar. Targaryen silver against spun gold. 

“Allow me.” Aemond says, gently taking your hand and placing it on your lap.  Through the mirror, you smile at him, and tilt your head back in silent acceptance of his touch. He is grateful for it. Aemond often needs the reaffirmation that he is not forcing you to endure his touch. He wants you to be kept safe from the horrors he has endured, when it comes to matters of the flesh. Even if that means never touching you. 

Nerves make his stomach flutter. He has found that the first time he touches someone, that’s the hardest. Touch after that, he can endure. He had voiced that to you, once. 

“It’s not about you learning to endure my touch, Aemond.” Your soft voice rings in his memory. “It’s about exploring touching and seeing what you enjoy, if any. There is no goal here, or stages. It’s about learning if you want touch and learning to speak out about it.” 

No enduring, Aemond reminds himself. Seeing what it’s like. A hesitant hand is placed on your crown, getting used to the texture of your hair under his fingers. His hand is big, and it makes for an amusing sight, nearly enveloping your skull. Aemond wonders what it would be like, to be so close there is no flesh, no skin between you two. Yet at the same time, he doesn’t need to wonder. He knows you so well, it feels as if he knows you to your very bones. 

You stay very still, as he plucks one pin, then the other. Your eyes flutter closed, as your hair falls down in a shapeless blob. Aemond stares at it, perplexed. Surely, he has done something wrong. Your hair doesn’t look like this in the mornings, all loose and mussed from sleep.

It must show in the silence that stretches around you two because you laugh and offer him a silver comb. 

“I brush it after. So the marks that the pins leave vanish.” Your smile is kind, encouraging, but also questioning. The comb, it is an offer. One he can refuse if he so wishes. It thrills him.  

The comb strokes soothe him. It’s much like brushing a horse.  Methodical, calming. But better, because it is you. This close, he can smell the sweet smell of the perfume he bought you for your first month of marriage, see the vulnerable skin of your nape. Hear all the sweet little sounds you let out when he scratches the brush lightly along your scalp. 

Aemond decides he likes this kind of touch. There is something intimate about standing behind you, brushing your hair. Something that not even knowing all your secrets can give him. No matter if he knows where all the scars on your body come from or what’s your favorite book. There is something special in the way you turn all soft and pliant with pleasure, in the way you turn vulnerable. Trust. You trust him. This is it, he realizes. What he didn’t know he had lost, that night. 

The brushing stops. You scrunch up your nose at him through the mirror, in the same way you do when he keeps you from falling asleep, or when the bed lacks the number of blankets you like. Adorable. 

“Will you do mine?” He asks, and you nearly jump out of your seat in front of the vanity in your haste to obey him. 

“Are you certain? May I braid it?” It’s very lighthearted, but still asking for his approval. His consent. 

Aemond sits down on the deserted stool. He closes his eye, and removes the eye patch, so it doesn’t get in the way. A gesture that cannot be misinterpreted. Your breath hitches, slightly. Trust. He is reciprocating the favor. 

The brush begins running through his hair in soft, controlled movements. It’s even better than what he imagined. 

“Tell me if it doesn’t feel good.” 

Aemond doesn’t answer. He relaxes under your hands. Whatever souls are made of, yours and his are not the same. Nonetheless, he is keeping you. 

. 

.

.

.

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Detailed warnings: The fic is Aemond’s POV of the aftermath of trusting again a partner after SA. It deals with nightmares, self esteem issues, shame, guilt and bad memories. There is a line of dialogue (ONE) from the actual SA. No descriptions

Tags: @yentroucnagol

[thebadgerclan]

Salvation

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: You are his salvation...

A/N: This is based on the scene from Queen Charlotte where she finds out what the doctors have been doing to George (episode 5 I think?)

The demon was back.  After months of peace, of Nikolai’s mind being entirely his own, it was back.  The King had flown from his window three weeks ago, and since then, your contact with him had been limited.  It was a protocol that your husband had drawn up after his last battle with the demon, a contingency plan that he prayed he’d never have to enact.  But prayers weren’t always answered.

You now slept in separate chambers, your husband had returned to being chained to his bed and sedated.  Even during the day, a time that had been proven safe from the demon, Nikolai was distant, subdued.  You’d overheard him discussing it with one of his advisers: “Her Majesty is worried, moi tsar.”  “I cannot risk her,” your husband had responded.  “She is far too important.”

What little you saw of your husband broke your heart.  He looked exhausted, and you might have been able to chalk it up to the stress of the situation, had it not been for one minuscule, almost imperceptible detail.  Nikolai had brought in physicians from all over Ravka in hopes of finding a cure, and one, Doctor Laisia Orlov from Tsibeya, had some interesting theories.  At this point, Nikolai was willing to try anything to expel the demon from him, so he allowed Doctor Orlov to set up rooms in the Palace to do her work.

It was nearly a month and a half into your husbands treatment that you noticed it.  Nikolai had been meeting with his council when the Doctor entered, and when she walked near the King, he flinched.  You didn’t claim to be a medical professional, but you knew that a patient shouldn’t flinch when their doctor walked past.  From then, you noticed that Nikolai would mumble to himself, his hands would shake, his head would twitch.  Something was amiss, and it had something to do with Doctor Orlov.

It was two weeks after that that you got a feeling deep in your gut that something was wrong.  Not just wrong, but deeply, horribly wrong.  You pushed aside the papers you’d been going over and tracked down Nikolai’s valet.  He was flanked by four guards, which was extremely unusual, but they bowed when you approached.  “My Queen,” Akim, your husband’s valet, greeted.  “How may I assist you?”

“Akim, where is my husband?”  Before he could answer, one of the guards interjected.  “He is occupied, moya tsaritsa,” he said, which only raised your suspicion.  “Forgive me, but my question was not directed at you.  Akim, where is Nikolai?”  The valet shifted, and you pushed on.  “I will not ask again, Akim.”  “He is–” he cleared his throat.  “He is receiving treatment.  With Doctor Orlov.”

Again, your suspicion rose, but you forced yourself to remain calm.  “Well then, I should like to observe her work.  She is employing some revolutionary methods, is she not?”  “You do not wish to see that, Your Majesty,” said another guard, and your expression hardened.  “I am the Queen,” you said.  “You do not presume to tell me what I would and would not like to see.  Now, where are the Doctor’s rooms located?”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” the first guard said.  “I’m afraid I cannot grant your request.”  You drew yourself up to your full height, and while this guard was taller than you, he cowered a bit.  “I am not asking,” you said, voice icy.  “Now, tell me where my husband is, or I will have you charged with treason.”  “This way, Your Majesty,” Akim said suddenly, and you hurried to follow him.

The King’s valet led you into the kitchens and the storage cellar below, your concern growing with every step.  Then you heard it: screaming.  Nikolai, screaming.  You hiked up your skirts and ran down the corridor, panic bubbling in you.  When you came to a door, you slammed it open, the sight behind it igniting rage and horror in you.  Your husband was tied to a chair, a gag between his teeth, a red hot poker pressed to his chest.

“What is this?” you demanded, and Doctor Orlov paused.  “Untie the King.”  Akim and the four guards had trailed you, but all stood frozen.  “Untie the King!  I command you!”  “Queen Y/N, you cannot–”  “Do not tell me what I can and cannot do!” you snapped, composure completely slipping.  “I will have you hanged for this, do you understand me?  Torturing your King?”

“It is not torture, Majesty, it is medicine!” Doctor Orlov argued.  “You cannot have me hanged for practicing medicine.”  “I am your Queen!” you screamed, moving to stand nose-to-nose with the Doctor.  “If I wish for you to be hanged, then you will be hanged.  If I wish for you to be drawn and quartered, then you shall be.  If I wish for you to rot in a cell for the rest of your pathetic life, then you shall!  Get her out of my sight!”

The guards snapped to attention and dragged the Doctor out, and you turned your attention to your husband, who was being supported by Akim.  “Oh, Nikolai,” you breathed, and he fell into your arms, clutching your gown.  He was trembling, mumbling to himself.  “My love, what have they done to you?”  “Y-Y-Y/N?” he managed, and you nodded, cupping his cheek.  “Yes, darling, it’s Y/N.  Y/N’s here, I’m here.  It’s me, sweetheart.”

You felt him relax in your arms, and he let out a shuddering breath.  “Akim,” you called.  “Have the guards clear the halls and get a Healer to our rooms.”  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the valet said, hurrying from the room.  “It didn’t like her,” Nikolai mumbled, and you stroked his hair.  “What was that, my love?”  “It didn’t like her.  The demon.”  You were about to ask what he meant by that, but Akim re-entered.  “The halls are clear, Majesty.”

The two of you helped Nikolai to walk back to your rooms, and you changed him into his nightclothes, tucking him into bed.  The Healer arrived soon after, examining the King and healing the burns, rope marks, and leech bites.  “He’ll need rest,” she instructed.  “And he needs you.  After what he endured…”  “Of course,” you replied, thanking the Healer and dismissing her.

Nikolai was dozing, and you climbed into bed at his side, pulling him into your arms.  Already he seemed better, his face calm and relaxed, his tremor gone, no longer mumbling.  “Nikolai, darling?”  “Hmm?”  “What did you mean earlier when you said ‘it didn’t like her’?”  Your husband shifted in your arms so he could look at you.  “The demon didn’t like Orlov,” he explained.

“When she was around, it came to the forefront of my mind, it tried to get out.  And when she was…treating me, it would fight like mad to get free.  But when you came in there…when you held me, it went away.”  “Went away?”  “Mhmm,” your husband replied.  “When she was there, I had to fight to keep it at bay, but with you, it’s gone.  I don’t feel it at all.”  “Nikolai,” you said suddenly, clarity coming over you.  “Do you remember the night the demon came back?  When was it?”

The King thought for a moment before answering.  “I think it was the 8th, why?”  Suddenly, it all made sense.  “I was staying with my mother in Balakirev then,” you said.  “And that was the first night we’d spent apart since–”  “Since after the war,” Nikolai finished for you.  “Since I was infected with the demon.”  It all made perfect sense now: it wasn’t chance that the demon re-appeared, it happened in your absence.  

Now that he thought about it, more and more pieces clicked into place.  He’d felt the demon clawing at his mind before, when he was anxious or stressed, but when you were near, it released its clutches and left him in peace.  The Darkling had given him this curse, but the Darkling had never known love, never known the solace of another’s arms.  But Nikolai did, and it was that love, that solace that was his cure.  Not medicine, not science, not any religious ritual, it was you.  It had always been you.

“Y/N,” Nikolai said.  “You saved me.”  “I’ll have that mad woman hanged for what she did to you, I’ll–”  “Darling,” your husband said, smiling softly, brushing your hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek tenderly.  “As attractive as it is to hear you threaten someone on my behalf, that’s not what I mean.”  You heard a hint of his usual wit and banter slip back into his tone, and you knew that your husband was back.

“You are what keeps the demon at bay, my love,” Nikolai continued.  “When I feel it coming on, trying to get out, all I have to do is look at you, and it vanishes.  I have never felt its claws when I’m with you, when you’re in my arms.  Y/N Lantsov, you are my salvation, my solace, and my greatest love.”  Tears, happy tears pricked at your eyes, and you pressed your lips to his.

“If you’re making flowery declarations, then you must be feeling better,” you joked, but Nikolai was deadly serious.  “I’m not joking, Y/N.  The two months we were apart were the worst of my life. I couldn’t sleep, I barely ate, I was a shell of myself.  But an hour in your arms and I’m a new man.  You are my savior, Y/N.”  “Nikolai, I–”  “No, my love, you are.  My Queen, my salvation.”

You smiled, kissing him again.  “I love you so much, Nikolai,” you whispered, pulling him closer.  “I love you, I love you, I love you.  Saints, I’ve missed you.”  Nikolai nuzzled his face into your chest, happy to be held in your embrace.  “I love you too, my darling Y/N.  And I missed you far more than I could ever say.”  That Doctor would pay for what she’d done, but for now, you had your Nikolai, and he had his salvation.  His Y/N, his wife, his Queen, his love.

[fauxdette]

The Procurist pt. 8

Azriel x Elain

Summary: Azriel and Mor strategise their next move. Meanwhile, Elain struggles with unsettling dreams.

Warnings: Alluding to trafficking (not specifics)

Word count: 2K

*see notes at end*

•••

“You’ve been scouting all day, Az, you need to rest.”

Azriel braced his hands on the table at the center of the room, his gaze fixed intensely on the map spread before him. Provided by Kallias and Vivienne, the aged parchment detailed every inch of the Winter Court, and after almost a week of careful scouting and reconnaissance, only two areas remained unchecked.

Mor traced a finger over the border that separated Winter from Autumn— harmless in the rendering before them, but she knew what it represented.

As if sensing her thoughts, Azriel’s shadows tightened around him.

“I’ll patrol Autumn,” he declared. “You take the Summer border.”

��He’s more likely to be near Autumn,” she countered. “Why don’t we do it together?”

Azriel shook his head. “Every day we waste is another day those fae are trapped. We can cover more ground if we split up.”

He left the rest unspoken; the memory of the last time they had been in Autumn together.

Mor chewed her lip. “I don’t like it.”

“You never do.”

“That’s because every time somebody wants to be self-sacrificing, he ends up shredded to pieces in Madja’s tent.”

“That won’t happen.” The quiet conviction in his voice made her pause.

“You seem very determined to get back to Velaris... any particular reason for that?”

Azriel simply hummed in reply.

“You went to see her, didn’t you? What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

"Nothing happened?" she echoed incredulously.

He huffed, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his chin toward the ceiling. “I tried to, but…”

“…You couldn’t tell her how you feel?”

“Not exactly…”

“You did tell her?”

“More or less.”

“And?” Hope crept into her voice. “What did she say?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I don’t know because I left.”

“You left?!”

The look he shot her from across the table was one of pure death. “I’m going to bed.”

“Like hell you are—“

But his shadows had already winnowed him away.

•••

The air is stale, damp. A blade glints in the dark. There’s a mouth on her neck—no, two mouths; warm breath against her skin and the scratch of stubble. In the distance, footsteps crunch in the snow; hurried. She lifts one hand, running it through a head of black curls. Heat coils in her belly. Blonde locks slip through the fingers in her other hand. Someone smiles against her—

Elain woke with a start, her body drenched in sweat. For three consecutive nights, she had been trapped in the same dream— one that left her skin too hot and her mind reeling. She peeled back the blankets, swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and let her head drop to her chest as she inhaled deeply. Something was wrong. It wasn’t just the strangeness of the dream or its recurrence; it was the feeling of unease that had settled in her bones after waking on that first night— a feeling that had only intensified in the days that followed.

Elain quietly made her way down the hall, acutely aware of her sleeping nephew one floor up. As she stepped off the staircase to head to the kitchen, she noticed a faint light from the library. Instinctively, she moved toward it, curious about who would be awake at this hour.

Amren sat at a table off to the side, the surface before her littered with books and papers. Their last conversation popped into Elain’s mind; “You should think about working on your other skill set.” She cleared her throat as she stepped over the threshold.

Amrens’ head whipped up, dark hair swinging as those bright, perceptive eyes examined her.

“Sorry to interrupt. I didn’t expect anyone to be awake at this time.”

Rhys’ Second merely waved her hand, ushering Elain further into the room.

From a distance, she hadn’t been able to read the documents that Amren studied so intently, but as she rounded the desk…

“The dread trove.” Even speaking it aloud sent goosebumps erupting across her flesh.

“They could be the key to everything. Do not think it a coincidence, girl, that two fae, made and able to wield the trove, have arrived in Velaris for such a time as this.”

“I can’t wield the trove.”

Amren raised an eyebrow at her.

“You’ve wielded made items before.”

Elain shook her head. “Only Nesta…” But a memory stirred in her mind—a blade glinting in the dark.

“Truth-Teller isn’t made. Azriel uses it all the time.”

Yet, if she was being honest with herself, there had always been something about that knife and its master that called to her. When she’d taken it from his outstretched palm, hadn’t it sung, beckoning her to use it? She couldn’t even remember navigating the battlefield to reach the King of Hybern, hadn’t felt those shadows wrapping around her until Truth-Teller’s blade was halfway through the kings neck.

“I’ve never felt the others,” she gestured toward the diagrams on the desk. “Only the knife.”

“Interesting.” Amren tapped a long nail against the desk. “You know, Nesta only volunteered to find the trove to spare you from the burden? She only wielded them when those she loved needed her to.”

“You think I could use them with the right motivation?”

“I believe you could use them with the right connection.”

“What do you m—“

But a door in the house slammed hard enough to make Elain jump, the question dying in her throat. They were already looking toward the hallway when Mor appeared, her brown eyes wild with fear.

“It’s Azriel,” she panted. “He’s been taken.”

•••

His wings are bald.

It’s a he?

I mean I can’t confirm biologically but I think so. He looks like a warrior.

Maybe he’s here to rescue us.

Well he’s doing a pretty bad job of it. What kind of rescuer allows themselves to be captured?

It might all be a part of his plan, Suri.

Do you think putting arrows in his wings were part of his plan too? Because they look rather painful.

Okay so he’s not a warrior.

He’s dressed like a warrior.

Is he handsome?

You can’t seriously be wondering that right now, Hana.

Okay, sorry.

Yes.

Yes, what?

He is handsome.

Move over, I want to see.

Shh! I think he’s waking up!

•••

Taken.

While the Inner Circle devised a plan to save their brother and friend— Elain took the stairs back up to her room. She didn’t tell anyone where she was going, didn’t dare say out loud the idea taking form in her head. But to spite that, Nuala and Cerridwen were at her bedroom door when she got there, as if their magic already knew what she needed. Silently, they helped her out of her nightgown, pulling a set of folded clothes from their shadows and placing them in her arms. Not just any clothes— leathers. Grey in color and surprisingly supple, Elain rolled the pants over her calves first, marveling at how perfectly they molded to her body. Two straps encircled her thighs, each with a dagger casing, but she didn’t stop to think about what they might be intended for. Instead, she tugged another layer over her head; a long-sleeved top, made from fabric she had never seen. It glinted silver in the moonlight, and she wondered if someone had discovered a way to spin metal into wool. It looked like armor but felt weightless.

"Nuan," she breathed. "Nuan made these."

Cerridwen gave her a small nod as she tightened a corset around Elain's torso.

“How will you find him?” She asked.

“Not him,” Elain explained, as her grey cape was fastened across her shoulders. “Truth-Teller… I think I can find Truth-Teller. And hopefully Azriel from there, if I can still pass through the wards… but I’ll need someone to winnow me.”

“Of course,” the wraith said with a dip of her head. “We’ll both take you.”

Elain shifted the hood of her cape so her face was shrouded in shadow. That was some comfort at least, knowing her closest friends would be there, watching over them. She was suddenly struck by what it all meant; that they trusted her to bring their master home.

Elain steeled her spine. “I’m ready. There’s just one stop we need to make on the way.”

•••

Azriel cracked one eye open. Nothing had changed in the last four days; he was still contained to the same rough-hewn cell, illuminated by a spluttering torch positioned well out of reach. His wings were still stretched behind him, pinned to the rock wall at his back by several faebane tipped arrows. His hands were still shackled, each side linked to the floor with thick iron chains. And his mind still wandered to Elain every chance it got.

“Azriel!” Someone hissed from his right.

He craned his neck toward the small window carved into the stone above him where a pair of green eyes stared back.

“Hi Suri, how are things coming along?”

There were twelve females imprisoned in the caves with him, paired off and separated into rooms side by side, sharing two walls and two hand-dug windows with their neighbours. The openings weren’t big enough to climb through, but they made communication easy; that’s how he had learned his new companions’ names, how long they had been there, and what insights they had about the underground prison. It had also helped them coordinate an escape.

“Mairi and Agnes are ready. We just need…” Suri’s gaze shifted to his wings.

“Talk me through the plan,” he ordered, watching her eyes flick over his back once more before she cleared her throat.

“You will remove the arrows from your wings and toss them through the window with your super spy aim…”

He chuckled under his breath.

“…and we’ll pass them to Mairi and Agnes in room one.”

The females were seen like clockwork: two meals every day, starting with Mairi and Agnes in the cell closest to the exit and finishing with Suri and Hana in the room next to him.

“When he comes in Agnes will distract him, and Mai will…” She swallowed. “She’ll use as many of the arrows on him as she can.”

The others had been spared the poison that stifled Azriel’s shadows and slowed his healing; all too young for any magic they may possess to have matured.

“Good. What next?”

“They will lock him in their cell, then release the rest of us and we’ll undo your chains—”

“—we talked about this Suri, you may not have time…”

“Can we leave you the keys?”

He shook his head. “You might need them to get out. I’ll be fine.”

Although he could only see her eyes he knew she was scowling from her side of the wall.

“But you’ll be right behind us, won’t you Azriel?” Another voice piped up. “Once your wings have healed.”

Hana wasn’t tall enough to reach the window but he had talked to them enough now to know the difference.

“What do you do once the cages are open, Hana?”

“We head straight for the exit,” she recited carefully.

“What will you need?”

“Weapons, food, shelter. Alix and Saffron have the food we’ve been storing away from our meals.”

“Good. And when you find a way out?”

“Stick together. Hide our tracks. Walk as far as we can but save enough energy to find shelter and build a fire.”

He didn’t reply. It was a solid plan, and in his weakened state, the only help he could offer. There was just one thing left to do—he inhaled deeply, rallying what little strength he had left, and let Elain’s perfect face flash through his mind one more time. Then with a surge of determination, he ripped his wings from the wall.

Read part 9

•••

Notes: I thought an Elriel reunion was coming too IM SORRY. Good news is— I’m gonna post part 9 on AO3 tomorrow! It just felt like I needed to split the events up. I hope you understand 🖤

Tags: @lavenderbloomsinthegarden @greenleaf777 @sakurakittypeach @diabookmama @downingg2001 @teapagesandpetals @nxs98 @merakimoonglade @fanged-beast33

[thedreadvampy]

hahaha sweet vindication I went to a fuckin. uh so we have an inclusion and diversity working group at work and a subgroup of that which meets separately for LGBT+ inclusion. which is the fun one. the party group.

anyway got onto the teams call and both the other people in the room were already talking about how fucked up the last Inclusion and Diversity meeting was. you know the one where I suggested we might be a bit overwhelmingly white at 98% White People On Staff and maybe we should do something about it and the senior director pitched a defensive fit and started talking about how it's "never been a priority" in the fully white room of people driving the diversity agenda and how it's FINE because we sometimes work with BAME client groups and maybe people of colour just don't WANT to work here for NO PARTICULAR REASON? that meeting?

very nice to hear that everyone except the two people getting defensive left that meeting going WHAT THE FUCK and immediately went to talk to their colleagues about the whiteness problem in this workplace.

so the HR team are now talking among themselves about how to emphasise that it does need to be a priority, two Asian members of staff have sent emails to the I&D group diplomatically saying "hey here's why the overwhelming whiteness is a deeply affecting problem for me and makes me feel unsafe at work", and in the LGBT group we are discussing how to use the budget we already have allocated for improving LGBT+ inclusivity to Trojan horse in some data gathering that will demonstrate that no actually the problem is not "mysterious whiteness" there's an addressable systemic issue

so once again "being too angry to let it go" is playing out positively. my friends. start shit when people talk shit, is my policy 😘 saying 'hey that seems fucked up' in a meeting where nobody else is saying it has almost always, in my experience, had the effect of other people going YEAH ACTUALLY IT IS FUCKED UP I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY PERSON THINKING THAT WE SHOULD DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT

cause managers love to make you feel like you're being ridiculous and Just Don't Understand and if you speak up everyone will laugh at you. but you understand fine! and if you ask a polite question, either someone will have an obvious answer to give you and you can move on, or, more often, they won't have a good answer and other people will be like 'hey yeah that's a shit answer! why did we accept that as obvious?'

in my entire professional life this 'if you feel uncomfortable with something, question it out loud' approach has gone wrong like. a single figure number of times. and right almost every time. is all I'm saying. not cause I'm usually right but cause it requires people to think about what they're saying.

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 20

Chapters: 20/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader  Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Tagging: @number-0-iz, @emarich7, @jaziona92, @bridkesby If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know.

You can also read this on AO3 if you feel more comfortable!

Important notice: I am aware of the current allegations against Neil Gaiman and made a statement here.

With the Corinthian finally out of the picture, Morpheus could prepare to eradicate the Vortex from his realm without further interruptions. Rose's tragic fate weighed heavily on your heart, as Morpheus chose to remove you from the Waking World and bring you to the Dreaming for advanced protection.

Morpheus stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets and legs slightly apart. His stance conveyed irritation, disappointment, and a disconcerting level of worry.

You pushed yourself off the wall completely, nervously intertwining your fingers. "Hey.”

He advanced slowly but steadily, drawing his hands out and clenching them into fists at his sides. What could you possibly say to justify your actions? Fabricating a lie would be futile; with your Dreamstone emitting his energy and signaling impending danger, convincing him would have been utterly impossible.

And so, you surrendered to whatever fate awaited you.

"The Corinthian is her-”

"What are you doing here?" He demanded, his voice laced with anger.

You gulped, inhaled deeply, and released a trembling sigh. "Honestly? I don't have an answer to that.”

"Do you believe this to be a game for you to meddle with?”

"I never considered it a game. How could I?”

He shut his eyes and pursed his lips in frustration. "I did not give you that jewel just so you could chase my Nightmares."

You shook your head. "I promise you, that's not what I intended to do. I heard Rose was coming here to pick up her brother, and somehow I... I felt like something was horribly wrong. That she might be in danger.”

"I specifically requested that you stay out of it. For your sake.”

That he did, in his own way of speaking. It wasn't your burden to bear when you were meant to keep living your life in the Waking World. You should have known that he meant for you to never interfere, not even—and especially—in case of a negative development.

“Yes, but-”

Morpheus's eyes were piercing your very soul, a storm brewing within their depths. "’But’ what?”

"I care about you,” you said, your voice unsteady. “Whether you accept it or not, I couldn't stand by and do nothing."

Morpheus's face relaxed, though the tension in his posture remained. "Your concern is noted, but your interference could have dire consequences.”

"What was I supposed to do? Should I have acted like I didn't feel anything? Waited for the Vortex to destroy everything you’ve built, along with my own world?”

He took a step closer, his gaze intense. "You were supposed to trust me. To trust that I would take care of it.”

"You know that I trust you more than anyone else. But I can't just set aside my instincts, especially when I know what's at stake.”

Morpheus sighed, the weight of his responsibilities and his feelings for you evident in his grimace. "You must understand, your presence here complicates matters.”

With the Corinthian on the loose and his realm threatened by the Vortex in the Nightmare’s grasp, the last thing Morpheus needed was for you to add to his burdens. Although you didn’t truly expect to find the Corinthian in Georgia, acting on nothing but a gut feeling and venturing there alone inevitably made you seem like a pathetic wannabe hero with no real purpose.

Certainly, you weren’t expecting to end up surrounded by a cult of twisted serial killers on top of everything else.

And so, you nodded, absorbing the gravity of his words. "Look, I'm sorry. I know I acted on impulse without thinking.”

He reached out, cupping your face gently in his hands. "Y/N, your well-being is paramount to me. You must promise me that you will stay safe.”

You leaned into his touch, finding comfort in it despite the chaos surrounding you. "Let me help in any way I can. Even if it's just staying by your side.”

"No. Not this time.”

You bowed your head in resignation.

"Wait for me to return to you. Avoid putting yourself in danger.”

“But… what about the Dreamstone? Won’t it just—”

“I said, no.”

His refusal left a bitter taste in your mouth, yet, given the situation, you couldn't muster any offense.

He entrusted you with the necklace to guard you against any external threats, no matter their origin. It saved you from the fire explosion in the studio, and just moments earlier, from the Corinthian’s hunger for your eyes.

Clearly, there were no certainties left, with the Vortex on the brink of obliterating everything in its path. He stood firm, refusing to reconsider. All you could do was accept his protective nature.

"Fine," you sighed heavily. “I’ll do as you say.”

Morpheus tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes once more. "It is almost over, my love," he said solemnly. “Have faith in me.”

"I do have it, Morpheus,” you responded, reluctantly taking a step back. “Still, be careful.”

“I will.”

With one last lingering touch, Morpheus turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows. You watched him vanish, your heart heavy with love and worry, as you stood alone in the deserted corridor, pondering your options. Considering the Corinthian's conference on the lower floor, staying put might minimize the risk of running into any of his deranged followers. You also remembered overhearing him conversing with someone in one of the suites, though the wall had obscured the room number.

You mulled it over for a moment before it all clicked. Perhaps he had indeed trapped Rose, Jed, and Gilbert to carry out his sinister plans. If that's the case, finding your friends and the boy shouldn't be too difficult.

But just as you were about to move, your feet froze in place again, your stomach knotting up as a voice in your head formed words you knew you couldn't heed.

"Go to him," it said. "Find Morpheus.”

No, you were supposed to follow his instructions, staying far away from the Corinthian and any potential risk lurking nearby. While the Dreamstone around your neck provided a sense of security, Morpheus had been explicit, and disappointing him was something you intended to keep off your to-do list.

And yet, you kept scanning your surroundings, glancing back to where he had disappeared and then forward, ultimately yielding to the tug of your intuition. Because the question remained unanswered: would Morpheus be invulnerable now that his realm had continually deteriorated? You didn't doubt that he could stop his own creation from causing a dream apocalypse and prevent the Waking World from collapsing alongside the Dreaming, but there was a pressing need in your heart that compelled you to pivot on your heels and descend the stairs.

And so you did, walking as fast as you could, maneuvering your way through the convention area. You remembered passing by the conference room during your inspections, and navigating the space had now become quite familiar to you.

The crowd of attendees had visibly thinned, with only a few people strolling around, enjoying their break with a fresh drink by the pool outside, or chatting in the corners. None of them seemed to pay any attention to your distress, allowing you to walk undisturbed.

Morpheus was going to be livid, you could already predict it. But that was insignificant compared to the enormous chasm of fear forming inside you.

When you arrived at the large double doors, you took a few deep breaths and grasped one of the cold bars to push your way through. The door emitted a soft creak as you opened it, prompting you to pause and listen for any reaction on the other side.

Nobody seemed to have heard you; the distant voices of Morpheus and the Corinthian filled the silent atmosphere. A large group of people sat motionless in front of the stage, all oddly immobile, holding the same, identical position in their seats.

"Look at you, walking this Earth for over a century, infecting others with your joy of death. But what have you given them?”

Morpheus was confronting his creation, standing inches away from the false man who exuded an air of overconfidence and menace.

“What have you wrought? Nothing. Just something else for people to be afraid of. That is all.”

"So what now?" the Corinthian asked. “You send me back into their dreams?”

You saw him draw his dreadful knife, pulling it from inside his jacket. “’Cause I won’t go willingly.”

Morpheus, on the other hand, appeared completely unperturbed. The faint, amused grin on his face underscored his strength and commanding presence as he walked forward. “A knife… against a Dream?”

“You don’t think Dreams can die? Let’s find out-”

“Enough.”

Fed up with the Corinthian's theatrics, Morpheus raised his right hand to put an end to the entire ordeal. Sand magically formed from his palm, extending toward the Nightmare in a trail of golden grains.

Contrary to your expectations, and against all you had hoped for, things didn't go as planned.

In one quick, fluid motion, the Corinthian pierced the Endless's hand with his blade, the sharp metal slicing through his skin. The sand completely dissipated, leaving only the monster's knife lodged in his master's palm. Morpheus grunted in pain and surprise, dropping to his knees.

You were terrified, your eyes burning at the sight of your lover on the verge of defeat. How could that even be possible? How could he be losing his power and strength again, all because his own creation was exploiting a mortal's power?

No, that was too much for you to endure. You couldn't let it happen a second time. Unable to witness the horrific spectacle any longer, you shouted.

“Morpheus!!”

You ran to the stage, passing through rows of humans who appeared to be asleep, their eyes shut as though under hypnosis. You ascended the platform with a mixture of dread and disbelief, immediately pressing one hand against Morpheus’ back while carefully wrapping the other around his wrist. He traced the line of his evident gash, now marked by the redness of his blood.

You didn't care about the outburst he would most likely direct at you later. Because, for the umpteenth time, your inner voice had guided you to the right course of action. Of all the times you could have left him on his own, that was not the day to do it.

You expected Morpheus to regain control and shake you off, ordering you to leave. You were quite surprised to see he neither said a single word, nor attempted to disentangle himself from your hold.

Instead, he raised his eyes back to the Corinthian, lips parted in shock. "How...?”

Although you couldn't see the Nightmare's eyes through his black lenses, you noticed the way he tilted his head to look at you. His grin was victorious, utterly vicious, and positively nauseating.

“I’ve got Rose Walker getting stronger every second while you get weaker,” he answered. “She’s taking your place at the center of the Dreaming.”

You shuddered. Was that the so-called grand plan he had mentioned the day before?

“She’s bringing the walls down between the sleepers’ minds. And now they’re all dreaming the same dream.”

Your fingers instinctively tightened around Morpheus' hand, feeling him grow colder by the second, vulnerable and exposed.

“A dream that I inspired.”

“No,” Morpheus countered.

“It’s already happening. There’s nothing you, or your precious little human here can do. She’s asleep and dreaming.”

“Then she’s not beyond my reach.”

“Oh, I think she is. Now that she knows you’re planning to kill her.”

And then you felt it—that strange sensation of losing your balance, your head feeling floaty and light as the air around you grew eerie and darker. Your eyelids suddenly felt as heavy as boulders, dropping over your eyes until all you could see was black, with random shapes taking form in front of you.

“You need to wake up.”

Morpheus’ voice echoed next to you. You saw Rose appear and withdraw as soon as she noticed him, maintaining a protective stance over a little boy who you assumed was the lost brother she had been searching for. A creepy scene materialized around you, with strangers seemingly cutting and chopping flesh on the tables with their own blades and surgical instruments.

There was blood, skinned corpses, and body parts everywhere you looked.

“Don’t listen to him, Rose bud,” The Corinthian interjected, appearing right behind her just as Morpheus stood back on his feet. “You’re the one with power now, not him. This is your dream.”

“It’s his dream, for your world,” the Endless corrected.

“Then let’s make it yours. Whatever you want, Rose. A blank canvas.”

Right after the Corinthian's declaration, the boy was enveloped in a bright light and was instantly gone, leaving nothing but emptiness in his wake.

"Where's Jed...?" Rose asked, her voice filled with worry.

“Jed’s fine. He’s upstairs, asleep. He’s right next to you.”

The Corinthian's words were becoming increasingly infuriating. With each sentence, you felt a growing urge to expel him forcefully from his own nightmare.

“This dream is yours now. The Dreaming is yours now.”

“The Dreaming is yours. Is that what he told you?” Morpheus inquired.

“He told me you were gonna kill me,” Rose responded.

“Did he tell you why? When a Vortex brings down the walls between dreams, she creates a single volatile dream that will collapse in upon itself, and take the Waking World with it.”

"Rose, he's right," you declared. "It's more complex than you realize.”

“Y/N…? I….”

“Your world. Everything and everyone will die,” Morpheus elaborated.

“Don’t believe him, Rosie.”

You were boiling like a steamed pot, feeling the figurative smoke explode out of your ears. "Can you just shut up and leave her alone?!”

The Corinthian smiled, relishing what he evidently considered the pinnacle of his existence. He craved power, control, and freedom—a freedom that would cost your kind its very life and the King of Dreams his position and domain.

Thankfully, Morpheus promptly continued his explanation. “It’s happened before. I failed my duty, an entire universe was lost.”

You subconsciously reached for his sleeve, gripping it as if your life depended on it. It was vital, absolutely essential. You wanted to be there, you needed to be there. With him, with them, within Rose's dream. Alongside the King of Dreams.

Because it felt right, there was nowhere else you belonged.

“He can’t kill you if you kill him first.”

The impatience in the Corinthian's voice was escalating rapidly, and you heard the sound of his knife being extracted one more time.

“Killing me may save your life, but it won’t save the lives of those you love.”

Whenever Morpheus spoke, the Corinthian tried to sway Rose to his side. The poor girl was caught between two formidable forces, scared and confused, unable to decide what or whom to believe.

“I’m trying to keep you alive here.”

Morpheus. “I’m trying to keep your world alive.”

"Rose, if you feel like you can't trust him, then trust me," you pleaded.

“You have to choose one of us Rose-”

“Enough!”

Rose's voice echoed, spreading in all directions. A magical energy formed around her, converging toward her body as if pulled by a magnet. Morpheus's eyes immediately sought out the Corinthian, who now seemed suddenly at a loss for words or actions.

“If I am powerful as you say I am, then I will find my own way. In the meantime, the walls go back up.”

She tentatively raised her right hand, and as soon as she did, the dream in front of her completely dissipated, revealing a gloomy, empty room coated in metal.

“Because I’m not dreaming anymore.”

She turned and repeated the gesture, scattering the remnants of the Corinthian's nightmare. Morpheus observed her with pride and satisfaction, feeling both relieved and pleased by the unforeseen outcome.

“Thanks to you two, I’m wide awake.”

A bright flash blinded you as you were catapulted back to the Waking World, where you found yourself still standing next to Morpheus. He was examining his palm, watching as the knife wound healed and his skin regained its smooth complexion.

When you looked at the Corinthian, you saw him trembling, breathing heavily, and reaching for his glasses, a sign of utter annihilation.

“If you think I’m going back to the Dreaming with you—”

You almost jumped back in shock. The instant you saw his eyes, you understood why he always kept them concealed behind those dark lenses. Rather than having human-like eyeballs with irises and pupils, his sockets were filled with teeth, looking like two smaller versions of his mouth.

“You’re not going back,” said Morpheus. “I brought you in this world to serve humanity. Not to feed upon it.”

He was profoundly distraught, disappointed in himself for having created something so terribly wrong. Yet, despite all the evil the Corinthian had unleashed over the past century, you could still see the brilliance in him. As terrifying as he was, at least he served his intended purpose.

“Do you know why I do it? So I can taste what it’s like to be human.”

The nightmare's confidence had shattered, replaced by pain evident in his fractured voice.

Morpheus remained silent, listening intently.

“And you don’t care about humanity. You only care about yourself and your realm and your rules.”

He was seething with anger, harboring the same grudge that Gault had expressed.

"You really don't know anything," you intervened. "There's so much you fail to see.”

"And what else is there?”

“I contain the entire collective unconscious,” Morpheus answered. “Without my rules it would consume me.”

A pause followed.

“Humanity would be consumed.”

You exhaled, feeling the weight of his emotion. Despite his eternal power, he was not immune to the risk of being erased from existence, as the Vortex had just demonstrated. How had he managed to endure for millions of years, relying solely on himself?

The Corinthian, however, was not going to be convinced.

“Or you might actually feel something. I am not the problem, Dream.”

“You’re right. This was my fault, not yours. I had so much hope for you, but I created you poorly then.”

If the Corinthian had eyes, tears would have spilled from them, trickling down his cheeks. For as he listened to Morpheus's words, he understood that his time in both realms had come to a tragic conclusion.

“So I must uncreate you now.”

The Nightmare wept, appearing so innocent and tormented that it was hard to believe he had threatened you in the hotel corridor, killed all those people, and ripped their eyes off to feast on their humanity.

Even a Nightmare can dream, my Lord.”

Except that sometimes, dreams could become seriously twisted and tainted.

Morpheus tried again, letting his power flow from his outstretched fingers. The Corinthian began to burn, glowing a deep red, rotting and decaying like a vampire consumed by the sun. Before he could be destroyed, he summoned the strength to hurl one last venomous remark at his master.

“̘͌̅I a̔m̺̠̦ͩ ǫ̘̹ͥ̔͞͡n̳͎̪ͨ̇ͧ͠ḷ͔̊́͢y͊ s̫ͅỡ̶̟͍̻̞̦ͬ͛ͦr̩͙̀͜͝r͇ͤ̓y̢̿̾̏ͫ͜ I̴͚̥̘̖̓͊ͨ͒̚̕ w͖o̘̒͂ͤn̵̪̑̒͋’̗͓͐̒t bé͉ h̡̳͝e͇͈͛̎͌͐̋͜͢͠ŗ̩͚ͮͯẽ̷͂̅͜ t͚o̴͑̐̎̽̏ͨͨ̒̅̍ se̟͑e̳ R͂oş͖̺̾̿́̐̍͟e̹̙̤̙͎̋͒̂͆ͬ͝ W̤̤̬̕al̨͙̀̏k̆͜é̜̟̂̄͛r ḑ̢̜̦͚͕͎̜ͦo̵̶̶͈͐̋͢ t̴̯͕̱̳̃̌̇̃͜͞h̸ͥͩḛ͛̿̉̐ s̤ͦ̉a͎̿̅̆͟ͅm̱̟̮̆e̴̪̖͓̎͗̐ t̵̸͚͔̬ͧ̾̓ͬ̕͝o̊_̭̈́_̠ y̭̆̎o̽û̸͕͕̩͔ͦ̆ͪͅ.͋̎ͦͫ̆̚”̮̓̽

And then he was reduced to a pile of ash, with a small skull falling from the air and landing on top. Morpheus stepped forward, knelt down and picked it up, gazing at it in the palm of his open hand before rising a moment later.

“Next time I make you, you will not be so flawed and petty, little Dream.”

His fingers sinuously closed around the skull, and all you could do was watch the scene, immobilized and unable to find the right words to express. There was so much to analyze, too many things to register all at once.

“And you…”

You felt your gut squirm, bracing yourself for the second reproach of the day. But as he continued speaking, delivering an impassioned speech, you realized he was addressing the awakening crowd and not you. One by one, the people seated in the rows opened their eyes, fully returning to the harsh reality they needed to confront.

“…who call yourselves ‘Collectors’. Until now, you have sustained fantasies in which you are the victims, comforting daydreams in which you are always right.”

Their expressions were filled with painful realization, the stark truth of what they had committed.

“But no more. The dream is over. I have taken it away. For this is my judgment upon you, that you shall know, from this moment on, exactly how craven and selfish, and monstrous you are. That you shall feel the pain of those you have slaughtered.”

You were getting shivers, running all over you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“And the grief of those that mourn them still, and you shall carry that pain and grief and guilt with you until the end of time.”

They all rose to their feet, abandoning the conference room like a troupe of zombies, walking along the scaffold to an unknown, but certainly dark and devastating future. You watched them leave as your heart pounded like an uncontrollable drum, absorbing that view as a lesson about humanity—one that wasn't really a novelty, but thankfully had the best possible conclusion.

It saddened you, once again, to see your kind so corrupted and easily manipulated. The Corinthian might have played a fundamental role in their formation, but he only drew out and exposed what was already thriving within them.

"I told you to wait for me," he said quietly. This time, you were definitely the focus of his attention.

"You did,” you confirmed.

"And yet, you have decided to follow me regardless of what I asked.”

“I did.”

You turned your head to the side and met his eyes. He looked somewhat stern, but not as furious as you thought he would be. In the end, his lips curled into a subtle smile—barely noticeable, but as usual, evident enough for you.

You mirrored his expression, offering him a larger, much brighter grin. "I know I shouldn’t be here," you said, taking his right hand in yours and gently touching his previously injured palm, now perfectly immaculate. "But there's nowhere else I'd rather be right now.”

"My love, your bravery is one of the things I adore about you, but it also makes me worry. Immensely so.”

"I know, but what kind of girlfriend would I be if I couldn't even stand by your side when you need me?”

Morpheus did, in fact, need you more than anything in existence. He tightened his grip on your hand, pulling you slightly closer. "You matter to me more than you can imagine," he murmured. "Your presence brings light to the darkest corners of my realm.”

"Then let me be your light, always. Wherever you go, whatever you face, I’ll be with you.”

To you, it was more than a promise. It was a reassurance that, no matter how things evolved from that moment onward, you wouldn't sit on the sidelines and watch him handle the most arduous matters alone.

It was ambitious, given your human nature and limited lifespan. But for now, you didn't want to think about outliving him.

He swallowed, feeling both touched and uptight by your unwavering support. With a gentle touch, he guided your hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on your knuckles. "As long as I can keep you safe.”

"I don't doubt that you can.”

You kissed his lips and gave his hand one final squeeze before letting go. His eyes betrayed the doubt and fear of failing you, of losing you like he had lost everyone else he ever cared for.

"You ought to leave this place," he stated.

You wished there were more reassurances you could offer him, but for now, you could only nod and follow him down the stage, out of the conference room. You perceived the lingering emotions of those who had departed, the hotel corridors now desolate, the rooms empty. You unpinned the stolen badge from your shirt, unceremoniously tossing it into the first trash bin you passed.

The sky outside was dark, and cars parked in front of the building were leaving one by one. A few remained, their owners inside, crying out their desperation for the dreams they had lost. One of the vehicles seemed to have what looked like fresh blood splashed over the windows, indicating that the murderer inside couldn't handle their newly formed guilt.

It was unnerving, as dark and sinister as a scene from a horror movie. But this was no movie; it was your reality.

You spotted Rose and Jed driving by, heading down the road for a safe return. And yet, there was no trace of Gilbert anywhere. Odd.

Your phone buzzed in your bag, and a quick look at the screen showed Andrew's name. His concise message stated that he was finishing up a few tasks and that your next meeting would be in three days. You appreciated the extra time off, as focusing on work was currently not an option.

Matthew landed gently beside Morpheus' feet. He gave you a polite nod before shifting his focus to Rose's car, which had become a distant speck.

“You want me to follow her?”

“No,” Morpheus replied. “When she is awake, she is not a threat. Tonight when she sleeps, I will find her. And we will end this.”

Your heart sank at that moment, for his words could only mean one dreadful thing: Rose had to be stopped, killed, and torn away from her friends and her newly reunited young brother. It was unjust and incredibly difficult to accept. She was still so young and kind, with so much to offer the world. But no matter how hard you tried to think of a way to save her, you realized that the Vortex within her had already grown exponentially, consuming parts of the Endless' realm and the dreams contained in it.

“Come with me,” he said, extending his hand toward you once again, inviting you to take it.

"Where?" you inquired, lifting an eyebrow as you accepted it.

“To the Dreaming.”

You didn't have time to comment as you noticed your surroundings changing. A sudden gust of cold air enveloped you both, and the hotel blurred away, swept aside like dust. The parking lot twisted and transformed, replaced by familiar bookshelves from the library. Your head spun, and your heart raced as you went through the sudden transition. Before you knew it, you found yourself transported to the world of dreams, leaving you partially disoriented.

It took a moment for you to fully acclimate.

Morpheus let go of your hand and stepped aside, allowing you a moment to fully grasp and absorb the situation.

"Wait. I'm not asleep, am I?”

“No.”

“So… I’m actually here? Physically?”

“You are.”

You could barely tell the difference between being awake and dreaming. Perhaps there was an added layer of awareness that intensified all five of your senses.

“Why did you take me here?”

"It is not safe for you to sleep in the same house as Rose Walker," he explained. "If you stay here, I can preserve your dreams. You are my guest.”

You smiled, noticing the details with renewed clarity. Everything seemed sharper and more mesmerizing than in your unconscious mind. It felt like returning to a known place, one you now considered a second home.

“In that case, thank you for having me.”

He brushed your waist with a delicate touch, seeking your closeness, and promptly placed a tender peck on your forehead. "This place is yours to explore. If you wish to rest, I will have a room crafted just for you.”

His thoughtfulness was awe-inspiring. "Thanks, but I don't think I could sleep right now."

You wondered if it was even possible to fall asleep in the realm of dreams. How did it truly function with your physical body already there?

"I have preparations to make. You can trust that Lucienne will attend to all your needs in my absence.”

You pressed your lips together. "Actually, I'd rather come with you.”

"Y/N, what I am about to do is something you should not witness."

"I know you have to kill Rose, and I'm not trying to stop you. Just... please, let me be there. I don't want her to feel completely cornered and alone.”

Morpheus considered it, lowering his gaze thoughtfully.

"I promised to stand by your side, and I intend to keep my word. I can see how much this pains you, so... let me come. For both of you."

“You will not change your mind.”

It wasn't a question, but a clear realization.

“Sorry. It’s not going to happen.”

He exhaled through his nose in resignation. "Very well, but stay close to me. Do not interfere.”

You wished for Rose to continue living, to care for her brother, and to write the novel she once dreamed of creating. You wanted her to stay with Lyta, providing companionship and support for the arriving progeny. You longed for her to fulfill every wish she ever had, but there was no hope left for any of that.

Sometimes, fate could be unbearably cruel.

“Don’t worry. I don’t plan to,” you reassured him.

He reached for a strand of your hair, letting it slip through his fingers in a loving caress. "I will return shortly, my love. And then we will end this, together. For now, my castle is at your disposal.”

Your hair settled back into place, but his touch left it feeling electric and vibrant. You watched him walk away, his coat—now reverted to its long, simpler form—billowing behind him.

You sighed, feeling a blend of contentment and desolation for what awaited Rose. You touched the bookshelf in front of you, savoring the scent of wood and leather, and the rough texture beneath your fingertips. Being in the Dreaming while conscious was hard to fathom—a unique experience you hadn't thought to explore and didn't know you had secretly hungered for. It made you crave more, to be absorbed by it, to dwell within it. Not as a Dreamer, no. Not in the way Lyta had envisioned.

More frankly, you wanted it to be an integral part of your existence.

Suddenly, a loud throat-clearing sound echoed from the opposite end of the row of books. Your eyes narrowed as you took in the familiar figure standing just a few feet away, seemingly gauging your reaction to his unexpected arrival. There was no mistaking him; only one person could sport those distinctive little glasses, wear such refined attire, and carry that peculiar cane in his left hand.

“Gilbert…?”

"Hello, Miss. Fancy seeing you here in the Dreaming.”

"You… how....?”

"Ah, my dear. I'm quite certain you already know.”

You were momentarily speechless, your mind slowly beginning to churn again. Simply being with him provided a rare tranquility, a mixture of the known and the enigmatic. He was correct; deep down, you had always sensed that the answer lay right before you—hidden and elusive, yet undeniably real.

"You're a Dream, aren't you? You are Fiddler's Green.”

"Yes. Please accept my apologies for not revealing myself sooner. I knew from that Dreamstone that you were... different, so to speak, but I couldn't be entirely sure of your role in all this.”

With a soft, kind smile, you shook your head. "There's nothing to apologize for. I completely understand.”

Gilbert advanced, his heavy footsteps echoing through the space.

"You know, I was absolutely delighted to learn about your... relationship with our Lord. It is quite refreshing to see him with someone who brings him joy.”

You couldn't help but broaden your smile at Gilbert’s words. "It's really more the other way around. He’s very special to me.”

Gilbert nodded, his eyes twinkling. "And you to him, it seems. He is not one to easily let others into his heart, you see.”

It was astounding that you, a simple mortal, had been chosen by Morpheus as his life companion, surpassing all expectations. Being with the King of Dreams felt as natural as if a treasured childhood fantasy had come to life.

It was unique, enchanting, and felt perfectly fitting.

"I assume you have heard about our friend, Rose Walker.”

You gave a solemn nod. "Yes, I know she is the Vortex. I was really hoping things would take a much brighter turn.”

"You and I both wished for that. I hadn’t even realised.”

You crossed your arms, as though subconsciously shielding yourself from the shivers brought on by the prospect of witnessing her death. But your choice was made, and there was no turning back.

"Is there truly nothing we can do?”

"I'm afraid not. When a mortal becomes an active threat, Lord Morpheus must do whatever is necessary to stop them.”

"It's not as if she asked for it.”

"I know. It's rather sad, isn't it?”

You gave his wrist a gentle, amicable squeeze. "Quite so.”

Gilbert's moustache curled upwards as he smiled. "Well then. I have been away from my place for far too long. I suppose it's time for me to resume my duties.”

"I hope you had a splendid time in the Waking World, Gilbert. I know that human beings are not always the best example, but...”

"Quite the contrary. Humans are extraordinary in their own ways, some more than others.”

You chuckled, recognizing that his wink was hinting at people like yourself. “Perhaps you’re right.”

"Now then. Do feel free to visit me the next time you enter the Dreaming.”

“I’d love to.”

He tipped his hat, bowed courteously, and ventured deep into the library, moving with purpose. His long, Victorian-style coat swirled around him, shifting from side to side as he walked away. You watched him vanish behind the shelves, his footsteps becoming increasingly faint.

You hadn't asked about the type of dream he embodied, but you sensed that you would find out soon enough either way.

Once again, alone in the comforting silence of the library, you began to wander aimlessly, uncertain of where your feet would lead you. For the first time, you had the chance to explore Morpheus' home without the fear of waking up. The experience was exhilarating, akin to visiting a long-desired destination for the first time. Although you had dreamt of that place many times, being physically present in the heart of the Endless' realm felt like an immense honor.

The library was even more immense than you had imagined. With countless aisles and dead ends, you found yourself lost within the first fifteen minutes of exploring. It felt as though some of the books were whispering your name—not in a strange, creepy way, but like a group of old friends warmly welcoming you.

When you finally walked past Lucienne and spotted her among the many sections, she seemed genuinely surprised to see you in person, removing her glasses in astonishment. You greeted her warmly with a hug, gave Matthew a gentle scratch on the back of his head, and asked about the state of the Dreaming following the recent disturbances. As Morpheus had predicted, the tremors had completely subsided, and no new chasms had appeared into the ground. The library still bore a few cracks in the wooden floor, but everything was swiftly returning to its original, pristine condition.

Although you were aware of the significant impact on the Dreaming, you asked Lucienne for a place where you could appreciate the scenery without encroaching on Morpheus' privacy. With a warm smile, she recommended a delightful terrace in the eastern wing, just above the library—a serene spot offering a stunning view of the landscape. From there, you could admire the rolling hills and the shimmering river, a place she cherished whenever she sought tranquility.

While the spectacle had probably altered in light of recent events, you still chose to witness it, leaving your bag behind (you had your doubts that your phone would function in another world, anyway). Following the librarian's directions, you navigated your way out of the labyrinth of books, ascending a long staircase and entering a room you had barely traversed before. The place was quiet, as beautiful as a royal palace from a fantasy story, appearing as shiny and dreamy as you remembered it. 

You quickly located the terrace Lucienne had described, and as soon as you stepped onto it, you felt your breath hitch at the stunning magnificence. It was large and sturdy, displaying beautifully carved arches with intricate designs and gothic architecture. It was adorned with delicate, silver hanging vines that shimmered softly in the light, adding a touch of ethereal beauty. Black roses were a central feature, symbolizing mystery and elegance, interspersed with deep blue and dark purple flowers that provided a rich contrast. What made it even more enchanting was the set of lanterns emitting a golden glow, their lights gently flickering like stars.

It was no wonder that it happened to be Lucienne's favorite place in the entire castle. Simply standing in front of it made you feel like a princess.

But what stood out the most was how that corner resonated with Morpheus's essence. As you looked at it, you could vividly picture him; every color and design element seemed to reflect his aura.

You put your hands on the marble railing, its height giving you a sense of security and a perfect shield from the vastness beyond. The scenery ahead was truly breathtaking, despite the scattered dark, gloomy spots that occasionally emerged. Not even the Vortex, with its destructive force, had diminished the Dreaming’s splendor.

Partly relaxed, you breathed in the mixture of scents the air carried with it. You could detect a subtle, sweet fragrance of night-blooming flowers, fresh moss and ferns, undertones of amber and cedar, as well as the acrid smell of charred wood and ash, reminiscent of a forest fire.

In some way, all of that made you feel an even deeper connection to the realm, allowing you to witness both its marvels and its frailties.

And you savored every moment of it.

You remained on that terrace, feeling as though an hour or more had slipped by, trying to gauge the passage of time in the Dreaming as a conscious visitor.

Though it was objectively impossible and absurd to spend your entire life in that world as Lyta intended, you could certainly understand the allure. The wish to reside in such a beautiful place with the man you loved was far from a foolish aspiration.

Engrossed in your solitary reverie, you failed to hear Morpheus' footsteps as he approached the terrace. His hands gently settled on your arms, their touch soft as they glided from your shoulders to your elbows. His lips brushed lightly against the tip of your ear before moving to your temple.

"Hi," you murmured, tilting your head to the side.

“Hello.”

His voice was a melody, smooth as liquid honey.

“It’s really beautiful here,” you commented.

"The view is even more sublime with you in it.”

You felt bashful, your cheeks warming at the compliment. “Not as sublime as you make it.”

With softened eyes, Morpheus guided you to face him entirely. "My love, there are countless wonders within the Dreaming. Each corner of this realm holds a unique beauty, a reflection of the myriad dreams that shape it. Yet, none of these compare to your presence.”

Just when you believed your heart couldn't race any faster because of him, he proved you wrong.

"Words alone cannot capture your beauty. You illuminate both your world and mine."

He took your hand, tenderly stroking your fingers with his thumb, kissed your forehead and rested his own against it.

"You weave a new layer of marvel into the fabric of dreams. And for that, I am eternally grateful.”

Your lower lip quivered, and the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes made you blink repeatedly. “Aw…”

He smiled, a rare and genuine expression of his deep affection for you. "I hope you know, my love, that you will always be the most beautiful dream I have ever known.”

His heartfelt and poetic expressions only made your emotions burst forth. "I... I don't know what to say.”

"You needn't say a thing."

"No, I do. Because I don't know if you realize just how much you mean to me.”

“You matter to me more than you can imagine.”

Your words echoed his statement, proving how strongly connected you were to his heart.

He gently touched your face with his index finger, catching a tear that was about to fall, and gazed at the crystal drop with deep contemplation. "I do, I can assure you.”

"I love you," you reiterated. "So much it makes my heart ache.”

"And I, more than words can express, love you. I have found something that transcends time and space in you, a spark that fills the voids and quiets the storms within me.”

"Keep saying these things, and I won't be able to find the will to leave.”

"Then perhaps I shall continue, for I find I have no desire for you to leave my side.”

You laughed, snuggling closer into his embrace, your face resting against his collarbone. Minutes drifted by in tranquil silence as you both listened to the sounds of the Dreaming, remaining intertwined in a knot you never wished to untangle.

As your relationship progressed, you found it increasingly difficult to stay away from him. Your life had blossomed into magnificence, and you wouldn't want to exchange it for anything. Still, despite the natural, profound attachment to your reality, you couldn't deny that a part of you always lingered in Morpheus' dimension. It was bound to happen, and you had every reason to be attached to it.

Regrettably, there was an urgent matter that could no longer be postponed. His hold on you weakened, and you could only accept the separation with a somber acceptance.

"It is time, my love.”

The thought sent a jolt through your heart. “Already…?”

"Rose Walker is currently asleep, causing disruptions in the dreams of others.”

"Then we need to get to her before it is too late.”

"I would still suggest that you remain here with Lucienne.”

"No. I said I would go with you, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

"If that is truly what you wish, then follow me.”

You had no idea what to expect, knowing you were about to witness a murder. Given the nature of Morpheus' power, you were certain it wouldn't be conventional, but that didn’t make it any less painful. The Vortex had to be stopped; of that, there was no doubt. You just hoped for a way to separate the girl from the destructive energy she never chose to have.

In an instant, you were no longer inside Morpheus' castle but out in the midst of a storm, with the wind tearing at your hair and clothes. It was sudden and unpredictable, so fierce that it could have swept anyone away in the Waking World. Morpheus tightened his grip on your hand, giving you a reassuring nod to indicate that he had everything under control. In the distance, you could hear the familiar voices of Rose, Hal, and the others from the B&B, their cries getting swallowed by the Vortex's voracious energy one by one. Rose repeatedly called out for her brother as you and Morpheus pressed on.

Your pendant remained inert, and you appeared unaffected by the explosive force in front of you. Apparently, being awake had protected you from the peril the Vortex would have posed if you were asleep.

Snow blanketed the entire area in a soft white layer, yet the chill felt more psychological than physical. Rose knelt on the ground, consumed by an overwhelming wave of dread.

Letting go of your hand, Morpheus advanced towards the girl. “You’ve caused a great deal of damage,” he announced. “Nothing that I cannot repair, a least at this stage.”

Startled by the commanding tone of the King of Dreams, Rose sprang to her feet. “What happened to Jed? To my friends?”

“They’re asleep in their bed, but they’re not safe. No one is. Not until the Vortex is dead.”

Your jaw tightened, and the intense storm seemed to quiet down, unveiling a dry, desert-like landscape made of rocks. It looked so desolate, so dark and impoverished.

“Death is not always such a bad thing,” Morpheus continued. “You could stay here if you like. My raven was once a mortal.”

You furrowed your brows. Lyta's husband had turned into a ghost and secretly taken refuge in the Dreaming, unbeknownst to Morpheus and the realm's inhabitants. Since he fathered a child with his wife in her dreams, Morpheus was compelled to banish him, returning him to his rightful place. However, his words hinted that, under certain conditions, humans could remain there after death if Morpheus assigned them specific roles.

It was a completely new perspective for you, sparking a flurry of questions in your mind.

And then, a frantic voice called out as someone ran toward the three of you.

“Wait! Sir!”

Gilbert was sprinting with all his might, while Morpheus' face contorted in bewilderment.

“Gilbert? What are you doing here? “ Rose asked.

“This is Fiddler’s Green,” Morpheus corrected.

“You…? You’re a Dream?”

Gilbert confirmed with a slight head bow. “I am. I-I left my post here to experience life as a human being. A life which I humbly offer in exchange for yours.”

"Gilbert..." you murmured. "What are you doing...?”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Morpheus dissuaded him. “For the Dreaming and the Waking World to live, the Vortex must die.”

“Then what’s the point of a Vortex?” Rose protested. “Why do we even exist?!”

Morpheus shook his head, unable to deliver a proper explanation. “Honestly…”

"I have a theory," Gilbert offered. “When a human is at the center of the Dreaming, is it not to remind us that we exist because humans dream, not the other way around?”

Ah, there it was—the familiar wisdom you had come to appreciate.

“The miracle of humanity itself should always be more vivid to us than any marvels of power.”

You could see Morpheus' eyes becoming redder and wetter, his lips forming a small, relieved smile. “I cannot find it in my heart to punish you for leaving, Fiddler’s Green. But it is time you took up your appointed position once more.”

“It would be my honor, sir. It was never my intention to abandon my role.”

“What was your role? Who were you?” Rose questioned with curiosity.

“Oh, my dear, Fiddler’s Green is not a “who”, it is a “where”. I was not a person, I was a place.”

A place...? That could explain why you smelled those pleasant fragrances of nature when you had tea together at night.

“And, after your… death, if you stay in the Dreaming, visit me. Walk in my meadows and my green glades. Rest beneath my trees.”

Rose's expression was a portrait of pure sweetness as she listened to his gentle invitation. Morpheus looked at Gilbert with a blend of respect and satisfaction, much like an artist admiring their masterpiece.

"Farewell, Rose Walker. It was a privilege being human with you.”

Rose blinked, her tears resonating with your own emotions.

When Gilbert looked your way, every fiber of your being wanted to rush over and hug him. Nevertheless, you maintained your composure, recognizing it wasn't the right time for such an impulsive outburst of affection.

"Y/N Y/LN. It was a great pleasure making your acquaintance.”

"Thank you, Fiddler's Green. I thoroughly enjoyed our time together."

You observed as Gilbert took a deep breath, spread his arms wide, and extended his fedora. A flock of colorful butterflies, pink petals, and green leaves emerged from his entire form, rising up to the sky and swirling around. Gradually, he vanished in the same manner as Gault and the Corinthian, far from dramatic and certainly more graceful, leaving his hat to gently fall to the ground.

What truly made your jaw drop was the spectacular metamorphosis of the bland, rocky area into a vibrant environment with trees, grass, and a splendid lake with waterfalls. Yet, there was no time to admire it, as Morpheus was already looking at Rose again.

"I do not wish to take your life. But we all have responsibilities and this is one of mine.”

The energy that had enveloped Rose in the Corinthian’s nightmare returned, ready to unleash even more. The sky began to darken, heavy clouds floating above, with lightning preparing to strike in response to it.

"I am sorry,” Morpheus conveyed.

“Just do it. Whatever it takes to save my brother and my friends. I’m ready.”

She was so brave, so mature and receptive. Any other human would have tried to run, to struggle, to resist Morpheus in a futile attempt to escape certain death.

On instinct, you touched Morpheus’ arm before he could act, and his eyes, full of sadness and tangible regret, questioningly shifted to you.

"To be sure, is this truly the only option we have?"

“You know it is.”

“So, you have no other choice.”

“No.”

It didn't hurt to try one last time, but you knew better than to expect any improvement. With a long, weary sigh, you gazed at Rose, who stood rigid like a soldier, bracing herself with a mix of fear and determination.

You moved forward cautiously, led by your heart, as Morpheus called out your name. His voice was filled with alarm and concern for the consequences of your choices, but your modest humanity offered no means to alter the course of events.

“I won’t cause any trouble, don’t worry.” Your voice carried both resolve and weariness. "Allow me this one moment. Please."

And so he did, no longer hindering you, for he understood that the compassion woven into your DNA was prevailing.

You stopped just a few inches away from Rose, offering a wistful smile. "I'm so sorry, Rose. I wish I could do more for you. But I have no power, no means to save you from the unfortunate circumstances that justify the end.”

"It's okay," she replied faintly. "I understand.”

You envisioned her taking care of Jed, studying, graduating from grad school, writing, and enriching the world with her wonderful stories. You saw yourself talking to her on the phone, exchanging emails, and chatting online, keeping each other updated about your respective lives.

A simple daydream that, this time, not even Morpheus could make come true.

Cradling her face with your warm hands, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, your lips resting there as you fought back a lump in your throat. Engaging with others in your dreams was one thing, but now, for the first time, you were experiencing it from the other perspective.

It was profoundly unacceptable, yet there was nothing you could do to rectify such an injustice.

Then, you hastily pivoted on your heels and returned to your spot, standing beside Morpheus with your hands clasped together. The Endless sensed your turmoil, the sorrow you felt for what he was about to do. The empathy. The anger.

He wished he could shield you from all that suffering, which you should never have endured.

"If you wish to leave, if you do not want to see this...”

His persistent concern for you was undeniably charming, but you held firm. “I’ll stay.”

He scrutinized you briefly but decided not to pursue it further. Resuming his serious demeanor, he lifted his right hand to absorb and destroy the Vortex as he had with the Corinthian’s essence. Rose closed her eyes, ready to surrender everything inside her.

You clutched the fabric of your shirt, careful not to tear it, keeping your eyes fixed on the scene. Tempted to look away, you chose instead to stay strong for Rose, Morpheus, and yourself. You watched as he absorbed what she had trapped in her body, the Vortex being drawn in by his will as her life slowly ebbed away.

You anticipated Rose might dissolve or collapse on the ground, but neither occurred because Morpheus was interrupted for the second time.

“My lord, stop!”

Lucienne arrived, stopping Morpheus in his tracks, and with her was a woman you had never seen before. She had long, dark, graying hair and wore what seemed to be a blue nightgown.

All that tension and the repeated disruptions were starting to give you a headache.

Rose was taken aback. "Unity?!”

"This is Unity Kincaid," Lucienne elucidated.

What…?

The woman, holding a tome between her hands, introduced herself. "I am Rose's great-grandmother. And according to this book, I was meant to be the Vortex of this age."

Unity Kincaid, the sole survivor of the Sleepy Sickness, was the only human who awakened after so many years, defying death and looking much younger than her actual age.

“But because you were imprisoned and locked out of the Dreaming, that fate was handed down to my descendants.”

“I don’t understand,” Morpheus remarked.

Unity regarded him with a hint of amusement. "You're not very bright, are you?”

Hey. Rude.

“Come here, Rose.”

Handing the book to Lucienne, Unity approached her great-granddaughter, who stepped closer, profoundly confused and visibly fatigued.

"I want you to reach down inside yourself and give me whatever it is that makes you the Vortex.”

“But h-how?”

“You’re dreaming, darling. Anything is possible.”

Having slumbered for what felt like an eternity, it was no surprise that Unity Kincaid exuded such confidence in the dream world. One couldn't help but wonder what it must have been like for her to return to the Waking World as an older woman when, the last time she had closed her eyes, she had been as young as Jed Walker.

Rose lowered her eyes, deep in thought about her next move. She extended her hand to her chest, passing effortlessly through her shirt, skin, and ribs. When she pulled it back, she held a dark red glass heart, absorbing all the surrounding power. The center glowed with a lighter hue, with the storm captured inside flickering and flashing.

"This?" Rose mused aloud.

Unity didn't falter, taking the crystal from the girl's hands. "Oh, thank you, Rose, love.”

Straightening her posture, the woman turned and locked her resolute stare on Morpheus. "I'm the Vortex now, Dream King, as I should have been long ago. So, leave my great-granddaughter alone.”

It was clear she harbored no genuine resentment towards him. She understood that his obligation to take Rose's life was driven by a higher purpose, safeguarding both realms from a devastating blow. However, her decision to become the Vortex to protect Rose highlighted the profound strength and sacrifice inherent in familial bonds.

Morpheus stood in stunned silence, mouth agape, watching her. The heart pulsed and trembled between her hands, rumbling and roaring, until the crystal began to crack. A burst of red light exploded as it shattered, enveloping everyone in a blinding flash and a powerful gust of air.

Before Unity could fall, Morpheus steadied her by holding her right arm. Rose, noticing the woman's frailty and dizziness, called out in concern.

"What happened...?" Unity asked, forcing her head up but struggling to keep it steady.

"You died," Morpheus replied with a surprising gentleness. "So that Rose might live.”

Panic consumed Rose, rendering her unable to fully absorb the tragic news. And understandably so.

“I’m so sorry!”

“No, don’t be. I’m not. I was meant to die a long time ago, Rose. But if I had, I would never have met my golden-eyed man.”

Something stirred in Morpheus. When he and Lucienne exchanged a knowing look, it became apparent that whatever it was, it didn't bode well at all.

“And we would never have had our beautiful baby girl, and you would not have been born.”

“Wait,” Morpheus stepped in. “The father of your child had golden eyes?”

“I’ve never seen anything like them,” she affirmed.

After a momentary silence, Morpheus stated, "I have."

A man with golden eyes. Why did that spark a sense of recollection in you? To the best of your knowledge, you had never encountered anyone with eyes like those. After all, such a color was not something any human could possess in the Waking World. It was unnatural, a phenomenon unachievable without contact lenses or special visual effects.

Except…

…That stylish, flamboyant individual you had mistaken for the company's sponsor, whose irises had seemed to flash gold, which you dismissed as a mere trick of the hall's lighting.

You still didn't know who they were since the original sponsor couldn't attend the appointment. Could they actually be the man Unity Kincaid had a child with during her century-long coma? How was this person connected to Morpheus and the Dreaming? What compelled them to approach you that day, speaking about your deepest desires and those cryptic things you could barely comprehend?

Your brain was trying to process all that information like a computer, but it was clearly encountering a fatal error.

"Goodbye, Rose, darling," Unity's farewell was heartbreakingly poignant.

As comforting as it was to know Rose would continue living, against all previous odds, seeing her succumb to her tears and embrace Unity was something you could hardly bear without letting your own sadness overcome you.

“Mr. Holdaway will see to it that you and Jed have everything you need.”

She gently stroked and patted Rose’s back, and the girl had to gather all her willpower to let go of her great-grandmother.

"You and your brother are children of the Endless," Morpheus declared with incredible calmness, almost contentment. "You have suffered enough. You may leave this place.”

And just when you beieved you couldn't be more perplexed, your mind went blank at the mention of "children of the Endless" as you tried to piece together its significance. 

Unity Kincaid met a man with golden eyes in her dreams, which eventually resulted in the birth of Rose and Jed. You sensed that the individual you encountered before the Fashion Show had an aura reminiscent of Morpheus and Teleute, leading you to deduce that they must be another one of Morpheus's siblings. Or at the very least, that seemed to be the most logical conclusion.

Which, in theory, would make Morpheus Rose's great-great-uncle. Truly, a headache for you.

Oh, Morpheus had quite a bit of explaining to do now.

“Goodbye, Rose.”

Shaken and traumatized, the girl instantly disappeared, reuniting with her brother in the Waking World. Meanwhile, Unity Kincaid stood up on her own, taking a deep breath and gazing around in wonder. At last, she was finally at peace.

Who could have imagined that your trip to Cape Kennedy would have unleashed a cascade of extraordinary events?

It was still uncertain whether Unity Kincaid would remain in the Dreaming. Lucienne had brought her back to the castle, where she could stay as long as necessary until a suitable role was found for her, either in Morpheus’ realm or somewhere different.

You and the Endless had stayed, strolling through Fiddler's Green grasses, until you reached the refreshing lake at the path's end, made of the clearest water you had ever seen in your entire life. The sound of its waterfalls left you enchanted, the atmosphere was as pure as mountain air, and if anything, that paradise managed to soothe your nerves, strung as tightly as violin strings.

Still, the King of Dreams noticed your distraction as your mind wandered, waiting for you to speak, only to see you getting lost in your confusion.

“Y/N, what is it?”

“Mh?”

"You look troubled.”

Could you even bring it up, considering how much he loathed the idea of you being so close to the Corinthian in London, and then again in Cape Kennedy? Could you inquire about his sibling without him dissuading you from seeking further information?

Despite your efforts to keep it secret, you had already recognized that you were incapable of lying, especially to him.

"There's something I need to know.”

“I can see that. Go on.”

“Who’s the man with golden eyes?”

Just as you had predicted, Morpheus faltered and averted his gaze. "This is not something we should discuss."

"I'm asking for a reason," you insisted. "Because I believe I’ve seen those eyes myself.”

And with that, his composure, his calmness, and the relief he had just acquired from having saved his realm, completely dissipated. “How…?”

"Well... I don't know why I'm drawing these entities like a magnet, but the fact is, someone approached me recently. I was supposed to meet the company's sponsor, and I thought that was it. But it turns out the man in question couldn't make it, and I never really knew who I ended up talking to.”

The irritation, the fury that ignited in his eyes.

“Describe them.”

You focused on the memory, replaying it as vividly as you could. "Tall, bleached blonde hair, elegant. White suit, manicured hands, red lips… and naturally, eyes that flashed gold.”

And if you needed any confirmation, the way he stiffened left no doubt in you.

"Morpheus, please tell me.”

There was no reason to conceal the truth from you any longer, so he finally unveiled it. “You have met Desire, another of my siblings."

"I'm surprised that you wanted to meet. Do you have any specific questions you'd like to ask me?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. You could say that I'm interested in your... desires.”

"Is that what you desire? Greater wealth and recognition?”

Now you understood why they felt so peculiar and out of the ordinary. Why they made you feel so puzzled and intruded upon. Desire intended to allure you, to pull you in.

As for the reason, you were still in the dark.

"They came to you because of their animosity against me," he concluded. "To punish me.”

"Why would they want to do that? Aren't you family?”

"Their hatred for me is multifaceted, combining elements of sibling rivalry, jealousy, and grievances. They want to assert influence and demonstrate control over aspects that traditionally fall under my domain, like the subconscious desires of mortals.”

Was it truly just envy that Desire harbored for him? Was it all about dominance and the classic 'who has more power' game?

"There's more to it, though, isn't there?”

“Throughout our long existence, we have interacted in ways that have bred many grudges. Desire has a tendency to interfere, sowing chaos into my affairs.”

"What did they do?”

His nervous pout returned. "Desire's nature is manipulative; they have created the circumstances that led to the tragic outcomes of many things I was involved in.”

How could any family member ever want to harm him?

"So... Unity Kincaid...?”

"Desire knew the child would become the Vortex and that I would be compelled to kill it."

“But why?”

Morpheus remained quiet, observing the growing anxiety on your face. You could perceive there was something much more sinister, something you wouldn't really want to hear, but that you were desperate to know for your own sanity.

"For an Endless, the consequences of killing a member of their family are grave and significant. We are bound by cosmic laws and responsibilities, and our actions can affect the fabric of reality.”

You swallowed, waiting for him to continue.

"If an Endless spills family blood, they are subject to the wrath of the Furies.”

“The Furies?”

“You already know them as 'The Kindly Ones.'”

Those three again. The ladies who warned you about Morpheus and the secrets he was withholding. The ones who toyed with your mind and hinted at the existence of Paregoros without ever revealing her identity to you.

"They are ancient entities that punish familial murder. Their vengeance is relentless.”

He was carefully choosing his words, but his effort to protect you from the brutal revelation couldn't obscure the actual meaning.

"So you're saying they could destroy you. They could take your life away.”

“The killing of a family member is a severe breach of the natural order.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

You turned around, one hand on your hip and the other covering your mouth as you walked aimlessly.

“Y/N.”

Had Morpheus killed Rose to permanently end the Vortex, his realm would have faced yet another onslaught, with the Furies exacting their vengeance upon him. All because of a single deed prompted by his sibling, a deed that could have resulted in Morpheus' demise.

"My love—”

"Let me get this straight," you interrupted him. "Desire sees your rivalry as an excuse to provoke you into breaking the laws and ultimately causing your own downfall?”

Your voice was rising, your blood boiling and coursing through your veins like hot water steaming in a pot.

"Do they really understand the consequences that would bring?”

“They do.”

You snapped, turning to face him again, your eyes red and darkened with seething anger. "Why would they, or anyone in this fucking universe, ever wish such a horrifying fate upon you??!!”

For just a fleeting moment, he was visibly stunned by your expressed frustration. But as he absorbed the extent of your support and the defense you were mounting just for him, Morpheus' shoulders slumped, and his lips formed a subtle smile.

"Now what? Are you going to tell me that Desire was responsible for Roderick Burgess capturing you as well?”

He turned grave, your ironic question striking a chord, his expression shadowed with grief. "It is possible. Desire's machinations are intricate and far-reaching. They revel in chaos and thrive on the misery of others, especially mine. Their interference in my capture would not be beyond them.”

Your eyes widened, and your heart ached as you envisioned him in that glass prison, stripped of everything he was. Could the torment he endured for so long really be the result of his sibling's cruelty, using a gullible mortal for their own satisfaction?

“Oh, that's just... that makes me so... uuughhh!!"

Your growl echoed throughout Fiddler's Green, and your breath quickened as you paced back and forth, vehement, and intensely incensed.

Morpheus watched you with appreciation and melancholy in his stare. "Your anger is justified, but it must not consume you.”

"How can it not?!" you retorted, stopping in your tracks, fists clenched at your sides. "How can I not be furious knowing what you’ve been through, all because of Desire's games? I was there Morpheus. I saw what those humans did to you.”

He was ethereal and beautiful, yet hollow and desolate.

“I swear, from the moment I met Desire, I felt so awful in their company. Now I know why.”

Morpheus stepped closer, his presence calming yet still carrying the weight of the cosmos. "Desire seeks to disrupt, to provoke such reactions. We must be smarter.”

You took a deep breath, attempting to steady yourself. “Smarter? Morpheus, I could have lost you today!”

The raw emotion in your voice brought a flicker of pain to his eyes. "I am deeply sorry for the anguish this has caused you.”

"It's not just about being sorry. It's about preventing it from happening again. If they're truly behind your capture, if they created a new Vortex just to have you face the Kindly Ones, who, by the way, are not really that kind to my taste, how can we be certain they won't try something else?”

He placed his hands on your cheeks, grounding you with the cool contact. "Do not let Desire's activities influence you. Rest assured, I will have a word with them.”

"Would that even suffice, considering what they've done to you?”

"Speaking with them may not change their behavior, but it will serve as a reminder of the boundaries they should not cross.”

How could a simple reminder be even remotely suitable after all they had put him through? You had been so close to seeing the love of your life eradicated from his own existence without even knowing it.

That ordeal couldn’t be stopped, could it? You were destined to witness Morpheus continually battling for the survival of his realm, facing one challenge after another, all because the universe seemed determined to punish him no matter what he did.

Well then. If nobody could stand up for the King of Dreams, if not even his own family was willing to put his well-being first, then you would.

And it was paradoxical, seeing how Unity had sacrificed her own life for Rose's sake, while her former lover had merely exploited them for his vengeance. If you had considered the Corinthian a despicable monster, if you had thought that Mister Burgess was the worst, most rotten example of humanity, Desire was by far a step ahead of them.

Pouting like an offended child, you crossed your arms over your chest. "In that case, I will protect you.”

Morpheus looked at you in astonishment, his expression melting with tenderness. He extended his hands, gently uncrossing your arms and clasping your fingers in his.

"Your spirit is admirable, but you must think of yourself. I would not see you harmed in an attempt to keep me safe.”

"I'm not asking for permission, Morpheus.”

Another small, satisfied grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You remind me of the mortals who have stood against the odds, driven by love and conviction.”

"And you’re worth every bit of that fight."

Pride illuminated Morpheus's expression. “Very well. But promise me you will be cautious.”

“I will.”

And with that, you succumbed to the urge to hold him in your arms, wrapping your hands around his neck and planting a loud, strong, affectionate kiss on his cheek.

"Mmhh. I just want you to be happy,” you murmured, humming affectionately against his neck.

The vast expanse of the Dreaming seemed to hold its breath. The touch of your lips against his skin was both a promise and a plea, a gesture of love that spoke louder than words ever could. To him, it wasn't new, but every intimate touch and loving declaration from you ignited a fire in his depths that he couldn’t quite describe.

"If I am to measure my existence by moments of true contentment, then I find the greatest ones with you.”

You tightened your grip around his shoulders. "Really?”

"I can guarantee it.”

You pulled away from him just enough to bring your face close to his. "So, are you happy with me?”

“Are you?”

You exhaled, giggling with the delight of a schoolgirl. "I'm the happiest woman alive. In this world, in my world, and in every timeline that exists.”

"Then yes, my love. Your courage, your unwavering support—they are the essence of my happiness.”

"Ah, now you've done it, I'm afraid.”

“Done what?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"You just made me want to hold you even more, and never let you go.”

His genuine, delighted smile spread across his face as he wrapped his arms around your waist, effortlessly lifting you off the ground. The motion was fluid and filled with a surprising, playful energy, revealing a side of him that only you could witness.

You laughed, a sound that rang through the atmosphere like the purest melody. You tightened your embrace around his neck as he held you securely, his eyes twinkling and casting a glow over the entire Dreaming.

He pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that was soft and filled with all the nuances of his love for you. As the kiss deepened, you felt the strength and warmth of his hold, a silent promise that he would always keep you close, even across the barrier separating your two dimensions.

One that he could always cross to reach you.

Author's note: There is more to come. While the Vortex segment has officially ended, there are things that I want to cover and we haven't seen in the show at all. Also, the very last part of the story will begin soon, and it's going to be particularly important and also very intense. You will need tissues.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 21 ->

[genderkoolaid]

you have good takes so I'd be interested in your opinion on sth that's bugging me

Would you say queer cis men are discriminated against in terms of gender? my friends say they are only discriminated im terms of sexuality.

where I live it's common practice to rally around gender discrimination but to exclude queer cis men and that's the narrative, that they will never experience gender discrimination, but it doesn't sit right with me.

as I see it, they are discriminated in terms of being men "in the wrong way" just as trans men are.

what even is discrimination and privilege. my head hurts.

Gender and sexuality are so deeply intertwined that I think its hard to separate the two. I mean throughout human history it has been pretty common for gay men (and women) to be considered their own gender- not just in cultural third genders but also in the West (uranian, for example, is a word that was used- by gay men- to describe gay men as a "third sex," and theres a lesbian equivalent but I can't remember it). Being a man who liked other men meant you had a Woman Brain or Woman Soul or some variant of that idea (hence why trans queers and cis queers have often been grouped together), because you could not be a normal "real" man unless you were heterosexual. This is also why gay trans people have been discriminated against medically; if you are a woman with Man Brain, you can't become a man with Woman Brain, because then you would've been a straight woman.

I think part of the issue is that people tend to view "discrimination based on gender" as meaning "experiences misogyny in the same way or similar way cis women do." Gay men can and do experience misogyny, but if they aren't literally being seen as women while it happens, people may overlook it or just consider it sexuality-based discrimination. And there very much are cis gay men who are misogynistic and obviously have the benefit of being AMAB men, especially if they are gender conforming and socially acceptable and live in the right area... but I don't think "cis gay men can have privilege" logically concludes with "so they can't be discriminated for their gender." Especially since a lot of "cis gay men" ARE weird in the gender, they might not even be cis or they might be cis and something else. And we shouldn't judge the position of all cis gay men on the axis of gender based on the most privileged cis gay men we can imagine.

I don't think any sort of "you are less [gender] because [sexuality]" bigotry can be considered just discrimination for sexuality and not gender at all. I also think gender is so pervasive in all corners of life that all systems of oppression influence and use it- but with queerness specifically I think gender is always a fundamental part of it. Gay men aren't hated for the nebulous concept of "attraction to men," because women who are attracted to men aren't hated for it. They are hated for being men who are attracted to men. If people can understand how misogyny plays a fundamental role in lesbophobia, then it should be pretty clear how gay men's gender plays a role in homophobia as well.

[mxckiemxn]

Standby

Chapter 5-Time

Word Count: 1,815

Warnings: swearing, violence, infections, weapons (guns and knives), food insecurity, mentions of death, cigarettes, hospitals, mentions of medications, Yoongi and reader bicker a lot, zombie shit

Taglist: @rkive-joonie @tweetiebirb @arantxaglz

Author's note: I was torn between making this chapter longer and cutting it off where it was at. Ultimately, I decided it'd be best to cut it off and allow the next chapter to be a long one. Let me know what y'all think about this one, and feel free to reblog if you like it! ~Mackie💜

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

“Yoongi, please slow down.” You pleaded to the man in front of you as he walked with haste.

“We’re running out of time, Y/N.” He stated, not breaking his stride.

“We’ve been walking for hours and we’re still in the middle of the fucking woods.” You sighed as you rolled your eyes.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he continued to walk as if he were on a mission, not slowing down at all. You were holding onto a branch that you were using to help support your weight. You stopped moving for a moment, trying to catch your breath as you glanced down at your wound. It now looked worse than before.

Yoongi stopped and turned to face you once he no longer heard your slow steps trailing behind him. He sighed deeply as he made his way back over to you, extending his hand for you to take.

“We can’t stop now, Y/N.” He said with a soft tone, but the urgency was evident.

“Can we just take a small break?” You begged. “Just for a moment?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose before nodding. “Just for a minute.” He agreed, helping you sit down on the ground.

He began digging through his bag, pulling out a bottle of water and holding it in front of you.

“Take it.” He said simply.

“Are you not going to have any?” You asked as you took the bottle from his hand and twisted the cap.

“No. I’m not thirsty.” He said, but you could tell he was lying.

“Just drink a bit, Yoongi.”

“I’m fine, Y/N. You need it. You look like shit.” He said bluntly causing you to snort at his honesty.

“You should see yourself.” You smirked.

Your food and water were now extremely limited. Hobi still had your bag and the only supplies that were available were the ones that Yoongi had.

“Do you think they’re okay?” You asked, referring to the rest of the group.

“I do. They have each other.” He spoke.

“Do you think they’re looking for us?”

“I don’t know, Y/N.” He said slightly above a whisper as he traced patterns in the dirt with a stick.

You sighed as you thought about your friends. They were all probably worried sick, but who knows what they encountered after you got separated. It might not even be safe for them to come looking for the two of you at this point.

“Come on. Minutes up.” Yoongi said as he stood up, dusting himself off, and reaching out to help you up.

“Can you chill with the speed walking this time?”

“No can do, princess. Can’t have you dying on me.” He said, causing you to roll your eyes at the nickname.

“Keep calling me nicknames and I may start to think that you’ve got a thing for me, Yoongi.” You said sarcastically, causing him to laugh.

“Then you’d be focusing on the wrong thing. Quit stalling. Let’s go.” He spoke.

“I wasn’t stalling.” You muttered.

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

The two of you began walking once again. Trekking forward in hopes of finding something, anything at all. You felt yourself getting weaker with each step. You were falling apart and as much as you hated to admit it, Yoongi was right. You didn’t have much time left.

It’s moments like these where you wish that you could go back in time and do things differently. You never would’ve gotten bitten by that dog because you would’ve taken a weapon with you. The group would’ve never had to leave the house, and everyone would still be together. Regrets felt pointless, but they stuck with you, nonetheless.

“I think I see something.” Yoongi spoke lowly.

Through the trees, you could see the outline of a large building.

“Yeah, I see it too.” You told him as you stood by his side.

“Come on.” He said, as he helped support your weight by wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

As the two of you approached the building, you couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that was building in your chest. It was a small hospital. Some of the windows on the lower floors were boarded up and some of the doors had chains on the handles. Someone wanted the building to be secure. Someone had to be in there.

“Yoongi, I don’t like this.” You admitted.

“We’ll be okay. We have to go in.” He attempted to comfort.

You quickly moved his arm from around your shoulder and stopped walking, causing him to face you with a confused expression. There was a hint of annoyance in his eyes, but you didn’t care. This didn’t feel right at all.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?” He questioned.

“Look at the windows and doors.” You began, motioning to the building.

“What about them?” He asked. He was either completely oblivious to the strangeness of it all or he simply didn’t care. You assumed that it was the latter.

“They’re secured, Yoongi. Someone has to be in there.” You told him, frustration laced in your tone.

“So?”

“So, what if there’s another group in there?” You challenged.

“Then we’ll take care of it. Why are you so worried about this?” His annoyance was much more evident now as his patience was wearing thin.

“Oh, don’t act fucking dense, Yoongi. We have one gun. One, and it’s just the two of us.” You told him.

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Y/N.”

“Then don’t act fucking stupid, Yoongi.” You snapped back.

The two of you stared at each other in silence for a moment. Neither wanting to back down. You understood that Yoongi was trying to save your life, but you needed him to understand that making impulsive decisions wasn’t going to do that.

“I’m trying to help you.” He whispered as he broke eye contact, now staring down at your torso.

You slowly reached up and cupped his face in your hands, causing him to look at you once again.

“I know, Yoongi, but if we don’t do this right then we’re both going to die. Please, just think about this.” You pleaded in a low tone.

“I’ll sneak in.”

“I’m going with you.”

“Y/N, you can barely walk. I’ll sneak in and take what we need. I’ll be in and out.” He spoke as if it were a foolproof plan.

“And what am I supposed to do? Just sit here and hope that you come back. No, I’m going with you.” You stated sternly.

“Do you always have to be so stubborn?” He groaned.

“I’m not being stubborn, Yoongi. I’m just thinking clearly. I’m not going to let you get yourself killed in an attempt to save my life.”

“You would do the same if you were in my position. Don’t try and act like you wouldn’t.”

You mentally cursed him out in your head. Not because he was just spewing absolute nonsense, but because he was right. You’d risk your life to save any of the boys but allowing them to do the same felt wrong. You owed them so much. Keeping them alive was a necessity, not an option.

“You’re right. I would do the same, but I’m begging you to stop fighting me on this. I’m coming with you.”

The sound of one of the doors opening caused you both to freeze. Yoongi pulled you down as the two of you stared at the door, briefly glancing at the other in concern. A man with a rifle around his shoulder walked out and looked around for a moment before lighting a cigarette. He was standing directly by the door.

You looked at Yoongi in hopes that he was thinking what you were thinking. Based on the look in his eyes, it was evident that you were on the same page.

“That’s our way in.” He whispered.

You wondered if the two of you could somehow overpower the man, but you knew that it’d be too risky. You’re not able to move as fast as you usually would, and Yoongi can’t overpower him alone.

Almost on cue, a zombie approached from in between the trees. It hadn’t spotted you, but the man on guard spotted it. He quickly put out his cigarette and pulled out a knife from his back pocket as he made his way over to it.

“Don’t make a sound. Let’s go. Quickly.” Yoongi said as he kept a firm hold on your wrist.

The man tackled the zombie who was putting up a good fight, before implanting his knife into its skull. Luckily, his knife got stuck and it gave the two of you enough time to sneak past him as the growls of another zombie kept the man busy enough not to notice you.

As the two of you walked into the building, the air was cold. Eerily enough, it still held the sterile smell that you’d expect from a hospital. The white walls made the hallway seem infinite. It was strangely quiet, apart from the footsteps that you could hear approaching from the other end of the hallway.

Shit.

Without a second thought, you quickly grabbed Yoongi’s arm and pulled him into the nearby room before shutting the door quietly. The footsteps continued to approach, and you could hear the sound of whistling.

Yoongi readied his gun and stood by the door, preparing for the worst. Soon enough, you heard the sound of two men engaging in conversation and you could only assume that one of them was the man from outside. They stood directly outside of the door for a moment, cracking jokes with each other. You subconsciously held your breath, feeling as if it’d give away your position.

A few minutes later, the men began walking away. Neither you nor Yoongi moved a muscle until the sound of their footsteps faded.

“Fuck.” You breathed out.

“Y/N?” Yoongi whispered.

“What?” You responded, looking at the man beside you.

“Look.” He said simply, pointing to the wall before him.

You almost couldn’t believe it. Was it really that easy? It appeared that the room you pulled Yoongi into happened to be a storage room. A storage room with various medications occupying the shelves. Most of them remained untouched.

Yoongi quickly began scanning the shelves, searching for the antibiotics that you needed. He let out a satisfied laugh once he found what he was looking for before grabbing multiple bottles and placing them into his backpack.

You were so taken aback that you hadn’t even noticed that the men from earlier came back down the hallway. So filled with hope that you hadn’t realized that they’d opened the door to the storage room. You didn’t even know that the man holding the rifle had connected the end of it with the back of your head as hard as he could. All you knew was that in the matter of seconds, everything went dark.

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

Previous Next

[sebsxphia]

One night, you sit with Jake in your living room, tucked into his side, exchanging soft touches. It starts with you taking his hand and slowly turning his wedding ring around, while he plays with some strands of your hair with his other hand. The touches get more and more intimate and sensual as time goes on, and soon, you two are making out. Jake carries you to the bedroom, and you make quick work of getting each other undressed. He lays you down on your bed and continues to kiss your lips, cheek, jaw, neck. His hands travel over your body, visiting and lavishing each of your most sensitive sweet spots with adoration and complete devotion. He is doing everything you love, but for some reason, tonight you don't respond to it as usual. The feeling of not wanting to take things further than this gets stronger as the seconds go by, especially as he separates your thighs with gentle hands. It surprises you, because you really enjoy the make out session and the skin on skin contact. The conflicting feelings leave you at a loss of what to do and you freeze up for a second. But that's just enough for Jake to sense that there is something wrong, and he stops all his movements, pulling away from you enough to look you in the eye.

"Is everything okay, Sweetheart?" he asks you cautiously, studying your features for any clues.

You hesitate, not sure what to do, whether you should tell him you want to stop here, or continue to see if you get into the mood. But when you see the worry in his eyes that he doesn't try to hide, you can't be anything but honest "I'm not sure I can take this further tonight, Jake," you whisper shyly.

The worry leaves his features and a kind, familiar smile takes over his face "Okay, Honey."

You swallow hard "you're not mad?"

He chuckles quietly, before tenderly nudging your nose with his, "of course not, Sugar. Thank you for telling me. I didn't push you too far, did I, Angel?" he asks, concern back on his features.

You feel yourself melt on the spot. Jake never fails to remind you that you and your happiness are his top priority. You reassure him that he didn't before you pull him in for a gentle, grateful kiss. You two agree to still cuddle up. After a few more kisses, you fall into a deep sleep, content and feeling even closer to each other.

-💚

i’m gonna absolutely sob, my beloved anon, oh my god 🥺 i can’t even begin to explain how much i love this and how deeply this touched me. i adore reading things like this. they make me feel so safe and so loved and they restore something in me. i’m going to be reading this forever and ever, i hope you know that, my beloved anon! thank you so, so much for this! i cannot put into words how sweet this was to read with jake 🥺💗💌

[the-perfect-wagnerite-again]

I have a categorical imperative question. I read some Kant in undergrad but do not retain much. My question is; does the categorical imperative account for specificities? As in, is lying, for example, acceptable under specific circumstances because under those circumstances the most ethic action would always be lying (say by omission)?Or is it more of a blanket concept, such that even though I feel it’s the right thing to (more or less) lie and tell an acutely dying man that he will “be alright”, and that this is the correct action under this circumstance, is it still morally wrong because I am lying?

Not sure if this illustrates what I mean properly. Would love an explanation to scaffold my meagre understanding. Please recommend any useful Kant texts that you’d consider readable for someone undergoing intensive study in an entirely separate discipline, too (I mean that I don’t have a whole lot of time to dedicate to personal reading). I’d love to learn more but have some difficulty knowing where to start.

The short answer is: no, the moral law is immutable and absolute.

The thing to understand about Kantian deontology, and the thing that gives most people the most trouble with accepting it, is that it makes absolutely zero room for conditionals. Kant was not trying to derive moral rules based on sentiment or hypotheticals, he wanted to derive a moral LAW from the principles of his metaphysical system. A law is universal, regardless of circumstance.

It's difficult to explain why this moral law is such without getting into the specifics of Kantian metaphysics, because the two are deeply interconnected, but I can give a few brief comments to summarize Kant's first Critique:

We live in a phenomenal reality full of objects that we perceive and cognize through our rational faculties (this is the world of science and matter).

Our capacity to understand this world is predicated on the subjective unity of our self-consciousness (Kant called this the fundamental unity of apperception). If we had no self-awareness, and no awareness of our self-awareness, we would have no knowledge of the world.

The Self, therefore, is simultaneously an object in the world (we interact with other people every day) and a subject transcendental TO the world (you are not the object of your own experience - you are the vector through which experience is possible).

This becomes more clear as we consider freedom and free will, which directly contradicts the deterministic laws of nature upon which science is possible. We are both determined objects of nature AND self-determined subjects of free will. This contradiction cannot be rationalized away, because it extends beyond the limits of our cognition, and yet we still know it to be the case.

This leaves the Self as the isolated viewpoint of experience. When we try to experience the Self, we simply shift our perspective, in much the same way that we cannot isolate the boundaries of our field of vision without changing it. The question of morality then becomes: what is the way in which I should interface with the Other, that which is the "Not Me" but still possesses that same agency and self-determination as Me?

This cannot be a conditional hypothetical, because those change with the tastes of the person and their desires. Anybody can determine arbitrary rules of conduct (and indeed, the constantly evolving landscape of moral norms proves this), but it's something quite different to derive a moral law that is universally applicable in all cases. This is the categorical imperative, which has three formulations:

Act in such a way that the maxim of your action (the will informing it) should be established as a universal law.

Treat other rational beings (including yourself) always as ends in themselves, and never as means only.

From the following two, it follows that the will of every rational being must be regarded as though it were a universally legislating will.

The end result of this is an almost common-sensical notion of fairness and justice, a sentiment we all know personally when we are honest about our interpersonal relationships. The "golden rule," as we call it, has had a nearly permanent presence in the moral discourses of all sufficiently civilized societies throughout recorded human history specifically for this reason. When we lie or cheat or steal, we know it to be wrong on a level more fundamental than arbitrary rules or regulations of society: we are violating an imperative that impels us to act with the same sense of duty to others that we would expect from them. This is why even white lies feel "off," because in the process of sparing our interlocutor the pain of the truth, we are denying them their right to full agency as a rational subject. We treat them as a means instead of as an end in themselves. The autonomous will, the truly moral agent, therefore consists of the agent that identifies the moral law within themselves and intentionally acts in accordance to it by virtue of their freedom. Willing oneself to obey the moral law IS freedom, because in doing so we release ourselves from the cage of desires, appetites, and incentives that would otherwise inform and inhibit our practical reason.

Obviously this is a prescriptive system and not a descriptive one, because human beings do not behave in this way. We are fallen creatures, we lie and cheat and steal where we can afford it, and we make excuses to rationalize our own moral failures in the face of scrutiny. But in that rationalization, we vindicate the categorical imperative, because it is only when we know we have violated it that we feel compelled to make excuses for ourselves (I only lied because X, I cheated because I deserve Y, if Z didn't happen then I wouldn't have to steal, etc).

As for readings on Kant, I advise you stay away from Kant himself. His work is an incredibly complex analysis of thought, and that makes it impenetrable for those who lack either the means or time to commit to him. Instead, I offer these recommendations to introductory texts on Kant, which are sadly insufficient as a substitute but good as a supplement:

"Kant and German Idealism," from The Story of Philosophy, by Will Durant (audio version available on youtube, highly recommended)

Kant: A Very Short Introduction, by Roger Scruton

Introductory Lectures by Dan Robinson, a personal hero of mine, found on youtube or here:

Let me know if you have any more questions, I absolutely love talking about this stuff

[starpirateee]

I mean you know i’m always a sucker for Holy Bastard if you wanna write some of that (be it high school or present day, I love anything w them) :)

Holy bastard... Wow, I can't even blame anyone else here can I? Brought this on myself... Well, I'm always happy to provide smth for these tragic ass gays

I can offer you... *Checks notebook* possessed!Ted?

There was something deeply wrong with Ted. Mark had been with and around him long enough to know how he acted. He was awkward, and barely knew how to keep his composure.

So when he suddenly gained an extra flourish of confidence and a suave new edge, Mark immediately knew to assume that something was wrong. Still, he tried to pretend like nothing was happening, because for all he knew, it was just a trick of his mind. Making him see Ted in a completely different light so he would seem less appealing.

It wasn't until he got closer that he really realised what was happening, but by then, it was too late to stop it.

The two of them had walked together back to Ted's place after class that day. Since they convened that morning, and he first noticed it, Mark had been meaning to ask if Ted was feeling okay. There was something ever so slightly wrong with him, and even if he couldn't place what it was, it was recognisable.

But, they'd separated after first period, and the need to ask had died down with every other opportunity. But now was a good time. Now, when there was nobody else around. Now, when he had to face Ted or nothing alone. When they'd started going out, the two of them had decided that the relationship was enough of a secret, therefore nothing else should be.

"Teddy, uh... Are you okay?"

Best to rip the bandage off. Whatever happened... Happened.

"Sure, why'd you ask?" Ted hummed, not turning to face him as he worked on re-stacking a pile of books that were threatening to fall across his bedroom floor.

"You seemed... Different this morning, and I haven't had the chance to ask about it." It was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was he'd seen, but there was a certain spark residing in Ted's eyes, that Mark's rampant imagination had compared to a stagnant hunger, waiting to be unleashed.

Ted turned around suddenly, and Mark's brow creased in worry. he had been right, there was something wrong. And that something was that the hunger had taken over, leaving behind a strange golden hue shining in his eyes. In more ways than one, it was beautiful, but it was far from natural, and borderline terrifying when Mark really thought about it.

"Uh, Teddy-?"

"I don't know what you're worried about, Mark!" Ted mused in a voice that barely sounded like his own. He approached step by step, eyeing Mark up and down, and in that moment, Mark felt rather like a prey animal being hunted. It was ennough to send a shiver up his spine.

When Ted finally reached him, he laid a sturdy hand on his shoulder. "I'm better than okay! I've never felt more alive!" And with that, he pulled him into a kiss before he could think to protest, deep and passionate and altogether very unlike him. Mark couldn't fight it, and part of him wanted to just give in to it. How bad could it possibly be anyway? He leaned in ever so slightly closer, feeling Ted's lips curl into a satisfied grin.

Mark's eyes fluttered shut. In the space he was left with- some apartment building, by the looks of things- he could see himself, looking a good twenty years older, and another man he only recognised because he'd spent more than long enough staring into those eyes.

Ted.

But, unlike him, Ted had changed a lot. His hair had grown longer, he'd actually managed to grow and maintain a moustache, and he looked vaguely like he'd been lacking a good night's sleep for a while. Mark stood in observance for a while, watching himself. Watching Ted. Seeing how much the two of them had changed.

"You can't just come back after all this time and pretend everything's okay. It doesn't work like that, man." Ted's voice was stiff with disdain, thick with something that may have been regret, and may have been downright anger. "You have your life, let me live mine."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Ted! I want what the two of us had!" Ted pushed past him, storming into the hallway without saying another word. Mark's hand curled at his side, unsure if he wanted to protest or dispel his own bubbling anger. "C'mon, don't be like that-"

"What? Fair? Face it, we were over a long time ago, we were never meant to be." Ted muttered as he turned his head. His brown eyes burned off the fuel of whatever had just gone on. "Move on. We both know you have better options that crawling back to me."

"Ted-"

"Leave me the fuck alone. You ruined us. Don't come crawling back now after everything."

Mark's eyes snapped open, and with a force he'd never quite seen in himself, he pushed Ted back enough to separate them."What was that-" he breathed, staring into the golden eyes of the thing inside of Ted.

"Just a glimpse, that's all!"

"Of what?'

"Us, of course! We've always been so interesting together, don't you think?!"

[laspocelliere]

Day Eleven: Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Hades had loved once before.

She’d come into his life like summer rain and autumn sunsets, bubbling over with an infectious energy that swept him up and carried him beyond what he’d thought possible. She was power, and beauty, and laughter, and she was his, she was his, she was his. And he was hers in return, completely and irrevocably, his soul tied to hers in ways that defied all reason so he no longer wondered where he began and ended; it was only her, ever her, the two of them together and facing the world even as it threatened ruin.

Until she was gone.

Until she left him, and he stood alone in ashes.

He would never love again.

—

Zenos had loved once before.

While he couldn’t be certain what love felt like, he knew bliss, and reason, and that was close enough for him to grasp tight, squeezing the sensation until he could compress it in his palm, hard as stone and twice as indestructible. 

The elation he’d felt – that she’d given him – was something that couldn’t be replicated. He felt it in every blow dealt, in every drop of blood spilled. Finally, giving way to her base instincts, he’d seen the truth behind her eyes, and had bathed in it blissfully. Her rage, her indignation, her utterly beautiful broken heart; she bared it all to him in that moment, and he wanted nothing less than to take it from her once more, to share that adrenaline rush that came only with combat, and death.

Without her, life was once more meaningless.

He would never love again.

—

The Exarch had loved once before.

She was young, but he was younger, and his infatuation had only grown once she was gone. He remembered a hero, strong and true, with a reservation behind her eyes that he felt a desperate, deeply-embedded need to unravel. The mystery of her haunted him through the years, decades beyond their meeting, and far longer than he ever could have anticipated. He devoured stories about her, frantic for any mention of her name, or her titles, no matter how fragmented the document, or how badly passed-down the story. She consumed his thoughts, and so he consumed her story, taking her name and making it sacred, as it should have been from the start.

When he arrived on the First, he kept his eyes hidden, refusing to meet the gaze of anyone who wasn’t her – his long-awaited, storied hero, finally brought back to him across time and space, no matter the cost.

He’d heard talk about his romantic interests, but they were nothing. He would wait, and when the time was right, he would call her to his side.

He would never love again.

—

She came back wrong, and Emet-Selch hated her for it. 

Her soul was perfect, that much was plain to see. It was what it had arrived in that he held issue with; this woman who dared to claim her own individuality over that of his beloved, who had the audacity to separate herself from who she was, no matter how hard she fought. She looked at him with those piercing eyes, and he told himself he felt nothing. She wept, alone in her room and alone in her burdens, and as he watched from the shadows he told himself he felt nothing.

She faced him, naked sword in hand, bound together with the strength of his Azem and her own might combined, and felled him in a movement that he thought he’d been waiting for for a long, long time.

Then he was gone, but the memory of her stayed.

And when the time came that she needed him, desperately, he would come.

He would never love again.

But he loved her anyway.

—

Zenos came back wrong, and she hated him for it.

Her hatred fueled him, serving only as coals to flame the fire of his determination. She loathed him with a passion that kindled his own, his very own mirror working in tandem to him even as she denied their bond. She consumed his every thought, waking and nightmare and anywhere in between, her very essence calling out to him to reunite once more in that moment of unity and life that no other living creatures could possibly experience together. 

He allowed the presence of the Ascian, and he gathered aether, and he honed his blade for her supple flesh, and he waited.

Somewhere along the way, he’d identified that what he felt wasn’t love. Love, as an emotion, was fragile and meaningless, and far beneath any descriptor of what he was offering his hero in exchange for his devotion to her in combat. Love, after all, wasn’t something he cared to experience.

And yet it was still the only word that seemed to fit.

He would never love again.

But he loved her anyway.

—

When G’raha Tia returned to the Source, he began to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t the only one who was different.

He’d spent so many centuries poring over his hero’s name that somewhere along the way he’d turned her into something mythical, even beyond what she’d managed on her own. When he’d summoned her to the First, she wasn’t the young adventurer he’d explored the Crystal Tower with in his youth. Something had irrevocably changed in her, something that couldn’t be defined in history books.

Or maybe he hadn’t been looking hard enough the first time.

With the sensation of carefully closing away a precious relic, or a childhood security, he tucked away his affections for the Warrior of Light, somewhere alongside his Exarch cowl and his penchant for theatrics. The girl he loved no longer existed; instead, there was a woman who had fought for worlds, with the weight of millions on her back, and had won. And that, too, was worthy of loving, even if it wasn’t a fraction of what he’d known before.

He would never love again.

But he loved her anyway.

—

Aymeric hadn’t understood love.

Through his life, he’d encountered facets of it, like reflective shards of a precious jewel. His adoptive parents, his comrades in the Holy See, the goddess Halone, the people of Ishgard, the rough beauty of Coerthas itself. He’d tried to understand it, an affection-starved child growing into an equally starved man, spending a lifetime finally understanding that there were certain things that some people weren’t entitled to have. Love, it seemed, was only for the worthy.

And then she’d walked into his life, and turned everything he thought he knew asunder. 

She was quiet, and she was strong. She was bright, and she was stubborn. She was the break of sunlight over the mountains, the shaft of moonlight filtering through stained glass, the wild beauty of the distant pines, the warm comfort of a private hearth. She was the air he breathed, the standard he held himself against to make himself worthy of her. She held as many walls around her heart as he did, and she was braver than anyone he’d ever known, because she lowered them for him, even through her sharp, bracing fear, that she then allowed him to hold in his hands, trusting him not to let them loose.

Aymeric didn’t understand love, any more than any man.

But what he had, he would give to her, and give to her, and give to her, to make up for all that she was starved of. And he would expect nothing in return.

He loved her, and he would never love again.

He would simply love better, every day that she breathed.

[rae-raewrites]

Bounded beloved

Arkham scarecrow x reader

In which you finally give the ok for Jonathan to use his dear toxin on you

Just a short thing because I wanted to write more scarecrow

Warning:needles,fear toxin,bondage

“Don’t tell me your holding back on me now Jon,you’ve wanted me to say yes for months.”

You were practically unable to sit still on the gurney as you waited. Apart of you excited but also equally anxious. He however hadn’t turned around from the small metal table beside you.

“I’m aware.” He came out almost monotone. He almost seemed hypnotized by his own work.

Jonathan crane had always wanted to see your reaction to his toxin,always. A desire of his. Something twisted birthed out of his relationship with you. It should be wrong right? You could be begging,screaming and kicking telling him no,but it was the complete opposite actually. Your boyfriend had completely nursed you into the idea.

“So then why are you so hesitant?” It came out as a tease from you. He always had that look in his eyes when it came to his work that would make anyone jealous. His fingers found the last heart rate monitor lead quickly removing the plastic covering for the adhesive. There was a certain eagerness with this last lead. Something the doctor was eager to enjoy. At that moment a familiar black bird landed on his right shoulder.

Craw had seemingly taken notice of his master’s behavior and came to investigate. The crow would never bother if it was a random test subject. But it was you,what was essentially the sweet birds other parent.

“Hesitation requires a adversarial response to something. I assure you none such a feeling exists here.” That final lead got placed right over your heart. No getting up now unless you wanted to rip adhesive right off your skin.

“And the big bad master of fear is immune to such a thing? Jonathan you and I both know that’s bull.” The leads wouldn’t be on you if he wasn’t worried,he was,deeply. He just hated to admit it.

“Arms,legs down straight. It’s either I strap you in tight or we break some equipment dear.” It was a purr in his voice. Someone clearly loved the idea.

He started by belting yo both your legs. The straps weren’t uncomfortable physically but more mentally. You knew what was going to happen. By this point craw had made his way to your stomach and made an inquisitive head tilt at you almost to ask ‘are you sure about this?’

“It’s okay buddy, see? I’m all safe.” You lifted up one of the wires slightly before returning it to the cuff spot. Jonathan was quick to get to your torso and do the same process. Deadlocked in all four spots. How romantic.

“Now we talked about how you wanted this taken,when we discussed it you said you preferred my own personal favorite…..” The injector glove. You’d be a fool to ignore the brilliance of such a tool but also how intimidating the thing could be.

“It won’t hurt as much as it looks. There so close together you won’t feel the pain separate.” He spent a second rehooking some of tubes to a separate vial on him. You two had already made it clear that it was just to much a risk to inject his more powerful chemicals. Suddenly the beeping of the monitor got louder and more pronounced. He looked up a smirk creeping onto his face.

“Are you scared dear? What terrifies you most?”

You really were nervous weren’t you?

“Would I sound pathetic if I said you,oh master of fear?”

“Not at all,not at all”

[piratefalls]

a leverage quinn/eliot thing i'll never write that’s been sitting in my drafts for a literal year so i'm just yeeting it out into the void

okay so who the hell knows if this is in any way an original thought but i think it’s sort of accepted by fandom that quinn and eliot knew each other long before they fight in the first david job. so let’s run with that. maybe when they met eliot was fresh out of the service and trying to figure out what he was going to do with his life. private security would be the obvious choice, but he still needs the adrenaline, and a break from people giving him orders. so he becomes an independent contractor, a retrieval specialist, and on a job he runs into mr. quinn. same place, same time, but different targets, and they hit it off while digging through an old storage space. and they just keep running into each other, time and time again, and eliot gains a reputation for being the best while quinn is happy to remain in the shadows. being lesser known has its own set of benefits.

and then they hang out after a heist, and things happen, and they find themselves becoming more than friends. this goes on for the next year, maybe two, and then...then they work a job together. something they’ve never done before, for some reason. and it feels off from the beginning, but it's quinn, and eliot trusts him more than anyone in the world, so he pushes those concerns aside until he can’t. the job goes so wrong so fast, and eliot finds himself taken hostage, waking up in an old warehouse, bruised and bloody and so tired. all he has to do is survive, because quinn is coming, he just has to hang on until quinn finds him. quinn will always find him. and then quinn does find him, and he looks so guilty, so fucking sad, and it hits eliot like a kick to the stomach that he’s been sold out. eliot gets free somehow and they fight their way out, and at the end of it all, a trail of bodies behind them, they stand there and look at each other. quinn is devastated, trying to find the words, and eliot just... shakes his head and walks away. he never hears quinn quiet plea for him to wait.

in the interim eliot finds his way to moreau, the awful things he does to forget, never telling anyone why he will only work alone. after a while he realizes he either needs to get out or lose himself completely, so he gets out, spends some time with toby learning to cook, and eventually goes back to working solo. then he’s hired to do a job in LA, a one and done with a team of thieves, and he does it. what a massive miscalculation on his part, because he does not want to like these people. liking people means wanting to be around them, giving them power over you even if you don’t mean to, and he just won’t do that again. but he does. and he keeps coming back, and despite the fact that hardison never shuts up, and parker loves jumping off buildings in a way that makes him deeply concerned, and nate is a ticking time bomb, and sophie is as warm as she is a terrifyingly good liar, he finds himself building a home there, working with these four people, beating up bad guys because he's helping people.

and then sophie cons the team, and the betrayal hits twice as hard this time. but before he even finds that out, he sees a face he’s done his level best to never see again. he lets quinn beat him up a bit, lets him think he’s winning, because eliot knows quinn has always been one thing above everything else, and that’s cocky. and when eliot grunts “now that rib’s broken,” he doesn't tack on like my fucking heart the way he wants to. it’s been years, and it wouldn’t have the impact he wants it to. and then the team separates and he’s never felt so adrift in his life.

in the immediate aftermath, quinn tries to reach out, and eliot keeps changing numbers, because really quinn should have gotten the fucking hint after the first five unanswered calls. eventually eliot shoots him a text, saying that quinn needed to leave him alone, and that he would reach out when he wanted to. the calls stop after that.

three years later, eliot has to go hunting for quinn because he needs a favor. and all quinn wants in return (besides the money, of course) is for eliot to just let him explain. they can go back to not talking, but he wants eliot to know the truth.

and when the job is over, when dubenich and latimer have been dealt with and the bat cave has been deserted, quinn tells him what really happened that night. how eliot wound up in that warehouse, why the job went sideways. [there’s some kind of bribery/secret that he was just desperate enough to keep quiet that he’d sell eliot out] and the price was that quinn had to turn eliot over. he tried, tried so hard to think of a way to get them all out of it alive, and they were almost home free and everything went so wrong so fast and he couldn’t think fast enough. and then eliot walked away never knowing that had the right amount of pressure not been applied to the exact right spot, quinn never would have put eliot within 100 miles of that job because even though they never said it in so many words, quinn had loved him and he knows eliot loved him too.

and so eliot takes a few days to think while everyone else scatters to parts unknown but this time with the full understanding that they’ll all eventually be reunited. eliot thinks, and thinks, and eventually texts quinn and invites him out. they can start with a beer.

[rainbowsky]

A word on the politics

I decided to pull this out into a separate post from the one about GG and DD and queer representation, because it's long-winded and somewhat off-topic. It also complicates my ability to properly categorize the post.

This is part two of a post about GGDD and queer politics. Part 1 can be found here.

I want to talk a bit about the broader political values that are often connected to these types of issues. First and foremost I want to make it clear:

Hate does not come from the people being hated or from anything about their behavior, it comes from inside the hater.

As I am constantly saying, everything we say, do and think can only ever be a reflection of ourselves - it can never be a reflection of anyone else. Even when we’re talking about someone else, everything we say comes from our own values, experience, perspective, etc.

So when haters speak ill of someone or something, everything they say comes from inside of themselves. It’s got nothing to do with the topic they think they’re bitching about. That’s how people end up telling on themselves - by showing what’s inside them, and showing how poorly tended and rotten they’ve let their hearts and minds become. How little interior work they’ve done.

Make no mistake about it, when someone piles hate onto a targeted or marginalized group, they’re choosing to do so because of the hate that lives in their hearts (and yes, many religious groups are deeply hateful). Nothing marginalized and targeted groups say or do will take away that hate or stop the attacks. The only ones with any power to stop that hate and those attacks are the haters themselves.

Tone policing is a tool of oppression

The idea that someone who is being oppressed should be 'nicer’ or more 'delicate’ when speaking out against that oppression - that’s what’s known as 'tone policing’.

Tone policing is a tool of oppression. It is one of the many ways that people in positions of power ensure that marginalized and targeted groups are kept 'in their place’. Focusing on the tone of a message rather than the message itself prevents the deeper issues and oppression from being addressed.

Tone policing is when someone (usually a privileged person) in a conversation about oppression shifts the conversation from the oppression being discussed to the way it is being discussed. Tone policing prioritizes the comfort of the privileged person in the situation over the oppression of the disadvantaged person. - Ijeoma Oluo

Tone policing is a power grab that automatically gives the oppressor the upper hand in any exchange, because it creates a perception that the more reasonable party is the one that is able to remain more emotionally detached. The people being oppressed - the ones crying out in anger or in pain - take on the appearance of unreasonableness due to their inability to remain calm.

The tone of the discussion is framed as more important than the oppression itself, which further marginalizes the issues the targeted group is trying to bring attention to.

All of this is about conformity. This is at the root of all of it. The belief that there is a right way and a wrong way to be and live, that we must all adhere to that path if we want to have any hope of being accepted and acceptable. You can only ever be on the inside or on the outside. If you happen to be on the outside, you are the enemy.

How convenient for the oppressor. If you’re an outsider you’re the enemy, and yet it’s the oppressors who get to decide who is an outsider and who isn’t.

This is the bottom line of all queer activism (and really any activism). People in power use their power to set the terms of engagement in a situation, and then they use those terms to perpetuate oppression on targeted minorities.

So if our reaction to someone’s unrest over the oppression they’re experiencing is to think that they should calm down, or to think that if they were a bit 'nicer’ their message would be better received, we should ask ourselves some tough questions about our role in the situation, our relationship to power and what we stand to gain by shutting that person up.

Are we trying to save our own asses by aligning ourselves with the more powerful side? Trying to avoid sticking our necks out by showing our allegiance certain social norms? In what ways do we benefit by keeping things the way they are?

Status quo people have a tendency to attribute the maltreatment a targeted minority receives to something that minority said or did, or to their general existence, rather than to the oppressors who are harming them. This is a very commonplace reaction.

There are some complex reasons for this, but in the end it more or less boils down to the status/importance that is attributed to various classes of people, and who is considered the protagonist of a situation vs who is labelled as the antagonist. Whose needs tend to be accommodated by society, and whose needs tend to be deemed unimportant, or even harmful.

[TW/CW discussion of racism and sexual assault in the next few paragraphs - skip the indented portion below if those topics are sensitive for you]

For example, in all but the most progressive of spaces, when a person of color points out that a remark someone made is racist, 9 times out of 10 the room will rally around the person making the racist comment, saying, “He didn’t mean it that way!” “Joe’s not a racist, how can you accuse him of being a racist!?” etc. etc. rather than rallying around the person experiencing racism. That’s just the state of social power in the world. 'Calling someone a racist’ (otherwise known as 'simply pointing out racism’) is widely considered a much worse crime than doing or saying racist things. This helps maintain the status quo, and ensures the unfair power dynamics remain in place. Change can’t happen if the things that need changing can never be reasonably addressed and critiqued. If a woman is raped, quite often the first thing people want to know is what she did to make it happen. Was she drinking? Was she out alone at night? What was she wearing? Did she fight back and scream for help, or 'just allow it to happen’? These reflect common rape myths, and in societies where men are given more status than women (basically all societies on the planet), people are going to place the blame for a man’s bad behavior on the woman he’s harmed rather than face the tough reality that their culture facilitates harm. 'Accusing someone of sexual assault’ (otherwise known as 'simply seeking justice’) is often treated with more suspicion and skepticism than being accused of sexual assault. The default is to assume the person in the higher status position is the real victim. The default is to assume that woman is seeking revenge on him or trying to get money or attention rather than to accept the possibility he really did assault her. Incidentally, this misogyny has serious implications for male accusers in high profile sexual assault cases as well. The whole Kevin Spacey thing shows just how far away we are from a world where men can be taken seriously as victims. More than 30 men came forward with allegations against him (including a mother who accused him of assaulting her teenage son), and he was acquitted of all charges by a fucking jury. Even in situations where men are convicted of sexual assault, they’re often given light sentences because the consequences of a heavier sentence on their lives and well-being are deemed more important and worthy of concern than the irrevocable consequences of their actions upon the lives of their victims. An example is the case of a Stanford athlete who was convicted by a jury for sexually assaulting a woman behind a dumpster (he had been caught in the act and held by passersby until he could be arrested). He was sentenced to six months in prison (only serving 3 of those months 'for good behavior’), because the judge felt that a longer sentence would have a negative impact on his otherwise bright future. (The judge was later removed from his position by outraged voters who staged a recall, but the damage was already done).

All this to say:

Speaking up about injustice and/or showing support for the causes we care about will definitely result in backlash. That’s how people are kept in line.

The person who points out a racist comment will get backlash. The person who speaks up about sexual assault will get backlash. The person who stands up for human rights of any kind will get backlash. Often the closer we are to progress, the bigger the backlash.

But that is not a reason not to speak up. Quite the contrary, it’s why we must speak up. We must push back against the unfair power structures that are standing in the way of change. If we don’t speak up, then progress can never happen. It’s really that simple.

People are not going to just give up their unearned privileges out of the kindness of their hearts. People who’ve been languishing in positions of power and status in society are happy with the way things are and don’t see anything wrong with it (and/or they exaggerate in their minds the degree of progress that has been obtained, and are in denial about their own role in the oppression).

In fact, those trying to make change are seen as 'the problem’ and as 'troublemakers’, and treated accordingly.

Social change never happens without a fight, so any implication - however unintentional - that we should 'be delicate’ about how we approach issues of injustice goes against everything I believe in.

All this long-winded babble to say what?

People frequently focus on things that are easy to demonize and condemn, rather than focusing on the tough problems or injustices in the world. People frequently focus on tone rather than on content.

Anyone who speaks up against social norms is going to be framed as a lunatic. Anyone from a targeted minority who speaks up against the oppression they’re living under is going to be attacked for it. This is how unjust power structures are maintained.

There are a lot of different forces at play, and if we truly value equality and freedom for all people we have to be prepared to recognize, critique and challenge existing social structures. We have to exercise discernment in how we assign responsibility in any given situation.

We have to recognize that if we truly want to support important causes, that will mean sticking our necks out socially to stand with and boost oppressed and targeted groups. We don’t get to simultaneously maintain our privilege AND work toward progress. We have to let go of one in order to ensure the other can happen.

Anyway, that’s my two cents (or more like $50) worth. Some of it might resonate with you, some of it might not. I hope that at least some of it has been helpful to you.

Just as an aside, I want to rant a bit about religion and hate, and about how fucking sad and depressing it is that Greece of all places (FFS), STILL doesn’t embrace LGBTQ rights.

My early days as a queer lad were spent deeply immersed in Greek history and mythology. In fact, I even spent some time learning Greek (long forgotten, sadly). It brought me so much comfort and joy to know that queerness was an ancient, beautiful thing. Yet here we are with the situation today, all thanks to the religious proselytization of a few early pricks.