#this one absolutely is not about wolves. but the chapter is

[aliesbienish]

A study of wolves: chapter three

chapter one ✩ chapter two

Paul Lahote x Reader

- The previous day -

“Why did we even agree to this study, clearly she is going to notice signs that the wolves around here aren’t always of the typical gray variety?” Paul questioned the tribal council, pacing at the foot of the meeting table.

“Son we didn’t have a choice, the majority of the land you boys protect falls out of the reservation. It was going ahead anyway, so it made sense to at least have someone from the council always there to steer clear of anything suspicious,” Billy placated, hands up in surrender to the clearly riled man.

“Billy’s right Paul,” Sam chimed in “there wasn’t an option. Plus this way we get income from the cabin and a guide. You know we need this to complete the maintenance on the school.”

“So you are okay with us becoming a study? Because we all know between the cameras and her field observation training we’re fucked. There is no way we can always play it safe with these cold ones lurking around, a mistake is inevitable.”

“Son,” Billy continued “it’s not even like it’s an issue anymore. You’ve imprinted on her, so she is one of us now. It’s well within reason to tell her what is going on.”

“No” Paul growled. “That is my choice and it’s absolutely not happening. Some silly idea that she’s my soulmate doesn’t change the fact she is a complete stranger. We don’t how she’ll react, there is no way I’m risking it,”

“You might not have a choice if she catches sight of something she’s not supposed to.”

“This is my only choice, and I’m not letting anyone taking it from me. Not even you.”

Billy sighed, resting his head in his hands. The chief was well aware what Paul’s reservations were really about. “Son, I know you didn’t want this. But please understand this is a blessing from the spirits, fighting this will only hurt you,”

“I refuse to let my choice be taken away, and I refuse to let hers. I will help to keep our secret safe but once this project is over she will leave and life will continue. And I don’t want anyone to try to do anything to change that.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The sky was clear but the southerly winds whipped ferociously along the cliff face where Paul parked up. The great blue expanse of ocean was mesmerising, stretching out as far as the eye could see. It was in moments like this you felt solace, out of the noise and bustle of large cities. Just the sounds of birds, waves crashing and winds whistling amongst the trees. After taking the moment to ground yourself you made your way over to the truck bed to grab your gear, Paul doing the same with his own bag.

“What’s the plan?”

“Well the most recent report says the last sighting was off this trail here,” you said pointing across the gravel road and to the unsigned trail head. “It happened in a clearing about four miles in so I think we head out there keeping an eye out on the way.”

“Sure thing boss. Anything you want me to keep an eye out for?”

“If you wouldn’t mind looking for prints, the ground should be pretty muddy under the vegetation cover so anything that’s been here since the previous rainfall last week should have left a mark. I don’t think we’ll actually come across a wolf since they’re nocturnal. But hopefully we can find a good spot for at least one of the cameras,”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

For the past hour you had been hiking in relative silence. Paul lead the way, keeping a steady but maintainable pace. The trail itself was muddy but relatively flat, and wide enough you didn’t have to squeeze past any bushes. So far you hadn’t spotted anything apart from a wild rabbit that darted across the path in front of you.

Seeing a fallen trunk parallel to the path up ahead you decided now was as good a time as any to have a break.

“You keen for some morning tea?” You called to your companion, who gave you a nod and slowed down.

Perching on the thankfully stable trunk you pulled out the first of the sandwich haul.

“What’s your poison; PB & J or ham and cheese?”

“Whatever one you don’t want,”

“Na-ah, that wasn’t my question now was it. What kind of boss would I be if I just gave my worker scraps?”

“A standard one,” Paul smirked. Before grabbing the ham and cheese sandwich from the lunchbox. “Thanks”

“So Paul,” you began after a few bites of food, “what do you usually do besides leading clueless city girls around the forest ?”

“Thanks for making me sound like a serial killer. Plus I wouldn’t call you clueless,”

“I mean in the serial killer equation I think I’d rather be clueless. Would be worse if I willingly followed a killer into the middle of nowhere. Now answer the question idiot,” you laughed affectionately.

“Whatever the council needs really. Usually some form of construction or land maintenance,”

“Do you enjoy it? I imagine it’s nice to be working with your hands and doing something different every day?”

“I do. It’s not what I had anticipated doing, but it keeps me busy. I don’t think I could ever work in an office.”

“What did you think you’ll be doing?” You paused a second, and realised you may be getting too intrusive with someone you didn’t know. Something about Paul just made you want to dig into what made him…well him. “Sorry you don’t have to answer that. I’ll just shut up,”

“Don’t worry [y/n], it’s fine. But you have to swear you won’t tell anyone,”

“I solemnly swear,” you declared grabbing his left pinkie with your right.

“Child,” Pull laughed, before wrapping his pinkie around your own. “I also thought by now I’d be travelling the country. Maybe working with animals on my way, at a ranch or something like that,”

“Nothing wrong with that at all. In fact it’s smart, animals are obviously much better than people,”

“Obviously,” he snorted.

“May I asked what changed?”

“Ah just council things really, it’s my duty to the tribe.”

You could tell he was skirting around the answer, but you knew it would be beyond rude to pry any further.

“Well there’s still plenty of time to try something new,” you declared as you swung your backpack on. “Shall we continue future cowboy?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Hope you all enjoyed xx

[ezdotjpg]

do you have any directors commentary on the recent two updates? 👉👈 the color palette is absolutely lovely! and and and WOLF!! :DD

OH BOY DO I

In the original draft of this chapter, Wolf stays a, uh, wolf until like the 4th update. Instead of actually managing to get his teeth on the master sword, Loft threw him off immediately. The Deku Tree still said the line about all three of them being heroes and Slate is like. “Including the fucking dog????!” I thought it was very funny but a) it made some scenes later down the line a huge pain and b) I was tired of drawing wolves ALDKDKD

You may have noticed Wolf’s scowling in the bg of almost every panel. That’s kind of just his face, but also right now my guy is nursing the world’s biggest migraine from popping the shadow crystal out of his skull. He can stay wolfmode for a while, but it’s still technically a curse. It’s not consequence free, and there’s an upper limit for how long he can spend in that form. Anyway, cut him some slack if he’s a little prickly for a bit.

There were a lot of comments about Loft being strong enough to toss a wolf over his head lol. My hc is that he’s one of, if not the strongest Link sans any magic items like power bracelets or gauntlets. He’s actually not even as strong now as he was during his quest. Wolf maybe has him beat now, but he can still get tossed lolol

It might seem like Slate’s really taken everything that happened at the end of ch1 in stride, but don’t worry. He’s simmering. Loft is grateful for the opportunity to get distracted by something else. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to approach the wild animal he’s never seen before lol

This maybe goes without saying based on the events of the last two updates, but Slate never had wolf link with him during the events of botw. He doesn’t recognize Wolf.

I’m really glad ppl seem to be liking the colors bc I struggled with them so hard on both updates 🫠literally days of me turning to my roommate and going “I think I’ve never made anything worse” and them going “it looks good stop being dramatic” WKDJDK I have this thing where if I had an idea in my head for what an update should look like, and what I produce doesn’t meet it somehow, I start seeing in fucking. shrimp colors. Posting always gives me a confidence boost back lol.

these pages were cursed in general bc like. this doesn’t usually happen but I think I redrew every panel in this update at least 5 times each. that’s part of why it ended up being late SKDJF

I REALLY like the idea of being in the presence of the Triforce and having access to its power being this eldritch, divinely horrifying experience. The sort of thing that is impossible to explain to anyone and also haunts you forever. Loft spends a lot of time actively trying not to think about the Triforce. Just, like, remember that about him.

Like how tears in reality are shown through holes in the literal comic panels, I tried to show the concept of reality bending in the form of a panel stretching and twisting like a ribbon ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I hope that came across. Triforce lore varies a bit from game to game, but I’ve come up with my own internal logic for bonus links that combines all the ideas I like lolol. We’ll learn more about it in due time!

I also really like this parallel :D I intentionally set up the panels so past and present loft would line up like this. i love getting to draw flashback links it’s so fun to think of ways to convey what they used to be like, and how their quests might have gone for them. Past Loft’s not having a great time by the time he reaches this point lol

I think that’s all I’ve got for now. Thanks for asking :D

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo: Chapter One

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

Also @twistedcece @ursinaw  @thisisafish123 and @cenatour wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me!

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

WARNINGS: none for now

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

Thank you for everyone on Tumblr and Quotev for guessing! A lot of you have gotten ones right but there no one's gotten all of Heartslaybul (which makes me worry I did badly there)

Now, onto the Hyenas, Lions, and Wolves!

Prologue here

Next chapter here

—----------------------------------

Since the wolves were right across from the lions and hyenas, you would be expected to divide your time equally between the two for your first official day at The Halfling Zoo. That was a pain, since all three of those species were more active at night. 

“You’ll be doing today’s morning feedings, right?” a woman in the zoo’s uniform asked you.

“Yes, for the lions, hyenas, and wolves,” you replied cheerfully.

The woman gave a sigh of relief, “Thank goodness- the lions always look like they’re about to kill you if you make the wrong move. Good luck!”

You stared blankly at her retreating figure. You really wish she hadn’t said that, because now you were absolutely terrified to step foot in that enclosure. Mr. Crowley had said to you yesterday, among all the other welcoming ramblings, that you had to go into each exhibit and give the food directly to the halflings, as opposed to leaving the food near the door and waiting for them to come and grab it.

After the zoo keeper’s “encouraging” words, you decided to give food to the hyenas first.

The hyena halflings were easy to spot- the group of seven or so male halflings sat in a group, talking and laughing loudly. There was one boy in the center of the crowd, waving his hands emphatically as he conversed with his peers.

As soon as you approached the hyena halflings, the mood immediately shifted. The halflings took several steps back, the conversation ceasing at once, all of them staring at you through weary, distrustful eyes.

That’s right- male hyenas are submissive toward females since they are usually aggressive and stronger.

“It’s alright!” you tried to speak as soothingly as possible, putting down the bucket of steaks so you could raise your palms in a non-threatening manner. They watched you carefully, still distrustful.

Finally, the boy from the center of the crowd put his hands behind his head and strolled up nonchalantly, grabbing a steak from the bucket. Although he acted like it was no big deal, you didn’t miss the way he eyed you with a fearful gaze and skirted around you as though you might explode at any moment. 

The other hyena halflings caught on and, walking around you with extreme caution, they managed to fish their meals out of the bucket. The hyena from before came back for a second steak and, not long after, for a third. 

“What’s your name?” you asked him as he fished around for the best steak left in the bucket.

He stopped searching and turned his gaze on you once more. He seemed to size you up for a moment before saying something softly. “What was that?” you asked.

“Ruggie,” he said softly, his ears turning inwards and an annoyed pout making its way to his face.

“I like that name!” you said cheerily. Ruggie eyed you dubiously and finally pulled a steak from the bucket, racing back to the other hyenas. On his way, he looked over his shoulder at you, his gaze uncertain.

You felt like you had made progress.

Now it was time to feed the lions, and the thought made your feet feel like lead. You were not looking forward to a lion halfling murdering you over a steak. 

A part of you wondered if some of the halflings really did prefer this life- or at least, the food. You had learned in class that halflings preferred to eat human food, although they could stomach their animal counterpart’s diet. Halflings, no doubt, preferred these still-warm cooked steaks over raw meat.

You picked up the bucket of steaks and began your journey across the faux savannah. It really was hot in the exhibit and the heavy bucket seemed to weigh you down considerably. Sweat beaded on your forehead and you found it even harder to push yourself across the distance to the lions.

When you finally arrived in front of them, you could feel yourself trembling in fear. In a shaky voice, you called out, “Who wants steaks?”

All of the lions’ eyes turned immediately to the lion halfling lounging across the rock above them. Ah, I get it. They won’t eat until he eats.

Slowly you approached him. You weren’t sure if he was awake until one green eye cracked open and lazily regarded you. You gulped and reached into the bucket, closing your hands around a steak and holding it out to him. He remained lying there, but his eye closed once more.

You began to set the steak next to him when blinding pain shot up your arm, causing you to promptly drop it on the rock. You looked down and saw that the back of your hand was bleeding from four long streaks. The king of the lions was now sitting up, glaring at you, blood dripping from the claws of his right hand.

“How dare you approach me so casually?” he snarled.

You weren’t sure what to do, so you sank into a bow, and murmured, “I’m so sorry.”

The lion gazed down at you, a mixture of surprise and amusement in his eyes. He laid back down, closing his eyes, “Whatever. The rest of you can eat.”

Lions rushed forward, clamoring around the bucket to get the best steaks. The lion on the rock did not reach for his own steak, choosing instead to go back to sleep. You were sorry you disturbed him, and not only because you were now nursing a heavily bleeding hand. The wound was surprisingly deep and you hoped that they had a first aid kit in the office.

A very small lion cub halfling with red hair bounced up to you. Your heart instantly melted at the sight of such an adorable little thing grabbing a steak and smiling up at you. So cute!

“Uncle Leona! Uncle Leona! Are you going to eat your steak or can I have it?” the little halfling asked the lion on the rock.

The lion- Leona, you guessed- glared down at the cub and snatched the steak out of the his reach with a warning growl. While the guttural sound was enough to make you shake in your boots, the cub merely giggled and took a bite of his own steak.

The bucket was empty by the time every lion had taken one. They were big steaks, but you weren’t sure it would be enough to keep them full. You headed back to the keeper’s door with sweat rolling down your cheeks. The heat and dryness may be perfect for the lions and hyenas, but you could barely stand it.

As soon as you were back in the keeper area, you made a beeline for the water cooler. You poured yourself a cup and downed it in a couple seconds. Panting, you filled your cup a second time. You sipped the water a little slower this time, feeling its cooling effects soothe you.

You headed for the nearest first aid kit, conveniently hanging on the wall near the exhibit’s exit. You had a feeling you weren’t the first to need it. You took some bandages from the case and wrapped them around your hand, hissing a little at the pain the pressure caused.

You were ready to face the wolves now. And, as you made your way into their enclosure, you noted with relief that the warm was crisp and cool- the exact opposite of the previous enclosure.

Goosebumps rose on your skin, but you knew that, by the time you had made the trip with the heavy steaks, you’d probably be sweating again. Sure enough, the labor took its toll on your body, your arm aching as you switched the bucket to your other hand.

Deep in the forest now, you could sense eyes on you. Relieved that you had finally found the wolves, you collapsed to the ground. Unprofessional, maybe, but greatly needed. You sat on the soft grass as the wolf halflings began to approach you.

A few had their lips drawn up in a snarl, and one of them called out, “Who are you? You’re not our regular keeper.”

Another wolf was quick to say, “But she’s brought food. Isn’t that all that matters?”

You raised your hands in a peaceful gesture, “I’m a researcher and I’m the one dropping off your food for this morning.”

That seemed to satisfy the wolves. Some of them still glared at you, but they all took their steaks. You looked around at the pack and was surprised to see, among all the gray hair, a head of pure white.

The wolf wasn’t glaring at you, but his expression didn’t give away how he felt at all. He seemed to be eyeing you warily, much like the hyenas. You fished out a steak and held it out to him. His eyes widened a little and he approached you.

“Thank you,” he said in a gruff voice, taking the steak from you. Before you could ask him his name, he disappeared into the crowd of wolves. You weren’t sure why your mind had picked him out from the others, except that his hair was a different color. A little embarrassed by your reaction to him, you held out a steak to another passing wolf, who growled at you in response.

As soon as the enclosure door shut behind you, you sank to the ground, exhausted. That was only the morning feeding- you had a full day (and part of the night) of studying and documenting behavior ahead of you.

[moodymisty]

hi! i hope you feel better soon!

i was wondering if you plans for continuing your ‘legions reacting to their primarch’s partner’ series ?

have a good one :) 🐊

Part 1, Part 2

Author's Note: Sure, here's the rest of them :3

Relationships: Implied Leman Russ/Reader, AlphariusOmegon/Reader, Sanguinius/Reader, Lorgar/Reader, Ferrus Manus/Reader, Mortarion/Reader, Jaghatai Khan/Reader, Horus/Reader, Fulgrim/Reader, Corvus Corax/Reader (A NOTE: almost all of these are gender neutral, but a few might have the term mother or another female term in it, so fair warning)

Warnings: None really

➧ Space Wolves:

Pretty average. They're definitely one of the better legions to be around if you're a baseline human, as they're not only pretty chill, but actually somewhat... nice? By Astartes standards.

You enjoy listening to them tell battle stories around the bonfire or whatever you're all camped around, and they like how easy it is to impress you with their feats of strength. Evenings can quickly devolve into one on one duels if you're around, and there's enough Mjød involved. Impressing Wolf Mother with your spur of the moment honor duel is the height of accomplishment, for a hammered Space Wolf.

You would hope Russ would stop these shenanigans, but you’ll find yourself disappointed when he joins in, brawling his own Astartes for your attention that he already has.

They also all find it absolutely hilarious when you use one of their tamed Fenrisian wolves as a mount, as it puts you at eye level with them.

➧ Alpha Legion:

Your relationship with Alpharius & Omegon is as ambiguous as how the Alpha Legion Astartes feel about you.

They don't like the twins having a potential weak spot that can be exploited by enemies, and their myriad of plans and spiderweb of secrets could get easily unraveled; But if the twins brought you into the inner circle, they’ll place trust that they did it for a reason.

It's just a bit, disorienting having so many men- some of which look very similar- coming in and out of your life. The twins know that you can tell them apart from their legion lookalikes (somehow and it pisses them off), but they still find it funny to try and slip things past you.

➧ Blood Angels:

As one of the kinder chapters, you being brought into the fold is of little resistance, largely because they see how happy Sanguinius is when you're around. They may be battle hardened warriors, but they find it difficult to express their worries when their Primarch has never looked happier holding your much tinier hand.

However the Blood Angels already have a protective (border-lining on obsessive) nature with their Primarch, and that is something that now extends in fold to anyone Sanguinius is close to. Being you.

Do not expect to go anywhere with any less than three fully armored Blood Angels. They will glare at anyone who comes close, they will scold anyone who speaks to you without proper prose, and you will have to deal with it. Some may have a developing soft spot for their kind Legion Mother which allows you to order them around, but they are very strict in this regard.

And Sanguinius will not stop it; Because he feels the same way as them, he's just better at hiding it.

➧ Word Bearers:

Largely neutral at first, but over time they begin to warm up to you as Lorgar's loving gazes and borderline worshipping talk wears on them. It also helps that they have some non-violent experience with other humans.

There are some however who don't approve of your closeness to Lorgar; Especially as it becomes more obvious that Lorgar's priorities are changing, and his distractions are getting worse. You becoming the idée fixe of Lorgar's mind is more than a bit concerning for some members of the legion, particularly ones touched by Kor Phaeron.

They hold their tongues, but you know they don't like whenever the two of you are alone. You've heard the word 'temptress' uttered more than once.

➧ Iron Hands:

Extremely blunt, and to the point. like the Imperial Fists, but without the protective streak. Iron Hand brutal efficacy doesn't exactly mix with the slow nurturing of what one could consider romance.

But you show genuine interest in the practices of the legion and don't impede on their chapter traditions, so the Iron Hands suppose it could be worse. They'd much rather their Primarch not be distracted however, and that is a theme that will remain present in any conversation regarding you for a long while. Expect them to basically ignore you for the first portion of your relationship with Ferrus.

Rude...

➧ Death Guard:

The Death Guard are one of the legions that is definitely more conflicted about the whole thing.

On one hand they say that he will end up distracted, eyes pulled away from his crusade to more frivolous things like romance. But on the other hand, if it does away with some of Mortarion's depressive moue, then they can bite their tongues about it. Either way, they definitely aren't fans of it, and you'll more than hear about it.

Legion meetings are, more than a bit stressful. Mortarion often times comes back ragged and angry after being told he should be rid of you.

Things are strained. You hope they'll level out with time.

➧ White Scars:

Probably one of the better legions to be in. Helps that they don't despise baseline humans, and actually know how to smile sometimes.

It's refreshing to be around Astartes who are a little less, stuck up, something you say under your breath not long after being officially introduced to them. They find it absolutely hilarious.

You have a few Astartes you're a bit more familiar with that Jaghatai trusts to be your personal guard, in the rare moments he isn't close. Pretty chill all around.

Unless there's about seven of them all eagerly surrounding you trying to teach you different Chogoran words, then it's significantly less chill.

Also jetbike rides sound rad af

➧ Luna Wolves:

They have their doubts as all legions do, but given Horus' charisma it isn't long before they toss those doubts aside, and quickly welcome you into the fold at Horus' side.

Also similar to the Blood Angels in that they get near feral protecting their genefather's beloved. It's like his obsessive nature somehow has somehow manifested or has been genetically implanted in them. Horus always makes sure you have a guard at your side, no matter where you go.

It was all fine at first, but now you're beginning to feel a bit like a prisoner.

➧ Raven Guard:

The Raven Guard are pretty tame all things considered. While conversations tend to be respectfully brief, you've noticed overtime that it's less so disinterest, and more a so near nervous formality. It's almost like they don't know how to talk to a baseline human woman for more than a few moments. It's, cute.

Nykona doesn't seem to mind you though; Largely because he overheard you mumble that you think his armor is the most impressive out of all of the Raven Guard Astartes during a sparring session between him and Corax.

Overall, they’re happy Corvus is happy, and as long as his main mission isn’t compromised, they’re content to have you here.

While most legions say ‘Legion Mother’ however, the Raven Guard tend to use the title ‘Raven Mother’ instead when being formal. When they started saying that instead of just legion mother, you noticed how it intertwines with how they refer to Corvus.

Once you realized you got a little bit too excited they’d finally started accepting you, and scared the shit out of no less than three guards by abruptly crying.

➧ The Emperor's Children:

They do enjoy being around humans that can appreciate the arts, and they don't hold much ill will towards you as the jewel of their Primarch's eye. If anything, they seem almost pleased their Primarch is able to pursue such things. You're welcomed into the fold with little fanfare, and Legion business continues on with nary a peep about Fulgrim's new wife.

Many of them create things for you, which while incredibly sweet, makes Fulgrim a little miffed if you show too much joy about it. He just gets a bit jealous, but it's harmless. You find it kind of cute.

[eggyrocks]

static chapter six: speculate

masterlist

Someone’s talking to him. They’re talking to him or maybe they’re yelling at him; at the very least they’re complaining at him. Nishinoya’s not listening though. He’s straining to hear her over the grating voice of whatever tenured professor is ranting over the gym’s front desk and the continuous buzz of the treadmills and the sound of weights rattling as they slam to the ground. “Time for my dedication. I just I’m not really being subtle this time. This one’s for you-Boyfriend by Best Coast.”

extras!

the song nishinoya requested was mannequin pussy's romantic

yn played it for him in the car on the first night they hooked up and she talked about it and the band very excitedly and it made him like it more

it's internal struggle city rn

instead of both yn and noya are two wolves-

noya has suna's number saved but he was not convinced suna has his number saved and for whatever reason that annoyed him a lot

the professor at the gym was complaining that there were no clean towels in the locker rooms bc noya has absolutely not been doing his job

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @atsumou @osakis-gf @karasyuu @cannibalsrider @osakis-gf @leewantstotalk @staygoldsquatchling02 @kitnootkat @yuminako @sleepystrwbrryy @cryptictheseus @mimi3lover @eternityjune @02shuuu @kozu-chan @hermaeusmorax @eclipticnikki @kmwife @sparkei @lllaw @phoenix-eclipses @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @kurooku @evening-latte @httpsivy @sleezzsister @snail-squasher @zzzlevislothzzz @mollyrolls

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[jccatstudios]

I absolutely love your adapting of Six of Crows. What scene would you most be looking forward to illustrating?

Oooooooh that is quite the question. So many scenes to choose from. Before I make my big long list, just as a disclaimer, I'm only planning to finish Chapter 3 right now. Everything that comes after (especially scenes way later in the book) is up in the air. No promises with Chapter 4 either. Also, not including CK on this list because then I'd be writing all night. That being said... here are some scenes that instantly come to mind:

Matthias introduction! I enjoy his character more and more each time I read, and that fight with the wolves he has is such a great was to meet him and know what he's about. Also the scene where Inej trips him haha

Chapter 10: Inej. The Tante Heleen encounter is so visceral. There's a lot of scenes I wouldn't describe as fun to draw because of their content, but they'd be fun to draw in the sense that I'd have a fair amount of creative problem-solving to get the emotional effect across

Wesper tag team fight on the docks

Eyeball scene. Eyeball scene. Eyeball scene!!! Like imagine the impact panel: Kaz's and Oomen's silhouettes, white on a black background, a dynamic arc of blood between Kaz's hand and Oomen's face

Inej's interactions with Nina, Jesper, and Kaz on the boat. Especially the life debt scene

The little scene where they're passing the book binoculars around and Nina makes fun of Kaz? That part is so dear to me

Wagon scene and Kaz's backstory. Honestly, everyone's backstory. I'm a One Piece fan, what can I say

Inej climbing the incinerator shaft and realizing her dream!!!

Matthias's "betrayal." Absolutely legendary cliffhanger

Chapter 38: Kaz. Imagine a full splash page of him so far away, the rest of the page filled with just water, silent. And the feeding the crows scene! The lighting effects are incredible in my mind, trust on that one

Jesper, Inej, and Wylan piloting the tank! Never before have I wanted to draw mechanical details so badly

What would drawing Nina's POV be like when she's on parem? I envision lots of little panels detailing out all the things she can see and experience now

"I will have you without armor" but also the scene between Inej and Nina at the start of that chapter? I forgot about it on my first read, but I recently listened to that part again and it's so sweet

Pekka Rollins. I just want to draw him.

[thenatashamaximoff]

Whispers In The Dark

Summary: When a casual one night stand develops into a deeper, forbidden love, you and Wanda try to keep your relationship a secret as you navigate the challenges of balancing your growing emotions with the fear of being caught.

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Warnings: 18+ (no smut)

Words: 6,462

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┌─────────────ᗢ─────────────┐ @diaryoflife @women-am-i-right @creatively-analytical @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @beforeoursecrets @iliketozoneout @olsensnpm @hoefnagel └─────────────ᗢ─────────────┘ ┌─────────────∞─────────────┐ @myfavoriteficss @pinkytoecrust @cyncity32 @romanoffomixam @peachbear88 @magicallymaximoff @therealmeari @peggycarter-steverogers @ba-romanoff @natashabelovas @morbid-gaymer @reminiscingtonight @when-wolves-howl @idontknownemore @natashasilverfox @sayah13 @fuxk182 @scarletwitchofthewilds @natashamaximoff69 @wuwu96 @jsonebraincell @whendarknessturns​ @marvel4liferz └─────────────∞─────────────┘

⚠️IMPORTANT ARTHOR’S NOTE: The following story (or following chapters) will not include detailed moments of smut. However, it does contain enough sexual content that I feel more comfortable labeling it NSFW/18+/MDNI. With that being said, read at your own discretion. Enjoy.

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The extremely comfortable bed you were laying on beckoned you to stay put, the weight of the covers over your body engulfing you in a warmth you didn't want to disrupt. It was hard to stay awake when you were so perfectly nestled in like a swaddled newborn. You had to find the energy to toss the covers off of you, though your limbs didn't seem to want to really move at the moment. Yet, with the seemingly loud vibration hammering away on the nightstand next to you, you were being signaled that it was time to get up.

Wait a minute… you don't own a nightstand yet.

You turned your head, the confusion evaporating quickly as you realized exactly where you were. You remember the bar, the attractive woman you knew you wanted the second you were aware of her presence, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And you couldn't help but smile when you remembered just how successful you were in accomplishing that. But now it was almost six in the morning and you had to get ready for work.

You didn't want to wake her up. The slivers of light sneaking past the curtains to show the peacefulness across her face in the midst of slumber was the best thing you've ever seen. You didn't want to be that kind of one-night stand, being unnecessarily loud, not even being thoughtful of the one who doesn't need to wake up at the ass crack of dawn. No, you were going to be considerate and make a quiet move to the bathroom.

You kicked your feet over the bed, but you still weren't entirely used to the fact that a nightstand was present. You bit your tongue when your leg smacked into the front of the bedside table with a loud thump, and you weren't quick enough to catch the falling lamp, flinching when it fell to the floor with a crash.

A peal of light laughter came from behind you as you stood up, bringing the sheet along with you and using your phone to survey the damage done to the lamp. And, boy, that lamp did not survive that fall.

"I'll pay for that," you said, looking toward her. How does that even happen? The one time you wanted to make a smooth exit and the nightstand wanted to put up a fight. An inanimate object was your downfall this early in the morning and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. "I'm sorry to wake you."

You were defeated.

"Are you getting in the shower?" Her voice was soft with no hint of annoyance in her tone. Was she not mad at you for pulling her out of the pits of her deep slumber? You'd be pretty annoyed that you were woken up by your one-night stand at six in the morning because they couldn't handle the nightstand.

She should at least be mad about the lamp. 

"Uh, yeah?" You wonder if that was okay. This wasn't your place, after all. Yours wasn't completely unpacked yet and you didn't want someone as gorgeous as her to see that storage container apartment you got going on.

She moved to flick on the lamp resting on the nightstand that hasn't embarrassed you (yet), replacing the morning sunrise slipping through the closed curtains with a brighter, artificial light. She ran a hand through her hair, getting some of it out of her face, as she sat up in the bed. You couldn’t help but stare at her - the way she tugged those locks brought memories rushing into your mind as you subconsciously brought your bottom lip in between your teeth in a gentle bite. "I'll join you," she said.

"You'll… what?" The smile she sent you at your confusion made your heart skip more than just a couple of beats. "Uh, we just met last night… in a bar, no less."

She raised an eyebrow, though the smile still remained on her face. "We also just slept together, Y/N. It's nothing I haven't seen."

You swallowed the saliva forming in your mouth so hard that it made the actual gulping noise. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment once more as you looked away from her, scratching the back of your neck. "That's fair," you confessed. You looked back at her and laughed as she hopped out of the bed with a smoothness that you wished you had earlier. It would've saved you from a lifetime of embarrassment.

She raced you to the bathroom, making you laugh harder at her little victory yelp when she beat you there. You wrapped your arms around her, bringing her close as you used your foot to close the door behind you.

It has been only a few hours since you parted ways. You walked down the halls, your mind occupied by… her. Her face, her hands, her smile and touch and laugh. You remembered every single second about last night and you just wanted to do it all over. Relive it once more. But you know how a one-night stand works, and there's a high possibility that you'll never see that woman ever again.

"Ma'am." You turned your head on instinct to see someone running up to you, holding a clipboard out along with a pen. "Just need a quick signature."

"What's your name?" you questioned as you accepted the items she was holding for you.

"Jennifer, ma'am," she answered, even throwing a little bow in there. You couldn't help but shake your head with a smile, quickly scanning the paper before scribbling your signature over the line, turning your head to meet her gaze.

"It's nice to meet you," you told her. Your eyes were drawn to something over her shoulder like a magnet to metal, your next words getting caught in your throat when you saw her leaning against the wall, focusing intently on the person she was talking to. You handed the woman the clipboard (her name was irrelevant now, you couldn't think of anything coherent at the moment) as you walked past her like a zombie ambling toward fresh brains.

You reached Wanda, looking at the agent she was conversing with. It only took mere eye contact for the man to send you a stiff nod before immediately walking away, turning to look at her.

"What're you doing here?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, almost just as confused as you were. "I work here." The crease in between your eyebrows only deepened with more confusion. "I'm an Avenger." Even with her clarification, it didn't make it any more clear to you. You don't remember her name on the list. She must be a new recruit. "Why are you here?"

You opened your mouth to answer but were interrupted when someone stepped up to you.

"We're ready for you, Director." You looked at the older man, reading his name badge as Phil Coulson. That answered her question for you, your eyes going back to Wanda to see the raised eyebrow and tight lips.

"Director?" She looked away from you, getting herself lost in thought. "Well, that's not going to work well."

You cleared your throat, your jaw clenching tightly as you turned to the agent. "Thanks, Coulson. I'll be there in a moment."

Coulson sent you a nod and left the two of you be, turning back to Wanda. As she tried to wrap her mind around what was happening, you waited for Coulson to be completely out of earshot.

"Why didn't you tell me that you're a new Avenger?"

"Probably the same reason you didn't mention that you're the new director," she countered.

You opened your mouth on instinct to rebuttal but closed it when you realized she had a point. You groaned, running your hands down your face. This is the worst-case scenario. It would've been better if you never saw her again compared to this, though just the thought of that pulled your heartstrings. You don’t really know how to imagine never meeting her.

"You're the boss," she said, once again pulling you out of your thoughts, "aren't you supposed to at least know who the Avengers are?"

"They sent the files, but I didn't read them," you confessed. "I wanted to meet the team members face to face." You did, however, read the names on the files and she wasn't there. You said her name so many times last night, you'd definitely remember seeing it on a folder. She must've been a last-minute addition, SHIELD not having enough time before your first day to compile and send over a file. 

At the same time, would you have been able to stop yourself from approaching her at the bar? No. The way her lips formed a pout made you want to do anything to wipe that away, so you would've ignored logic and spoken to her. You still would've made her laugh. You still would've made her smile for the first time in what seemed like forever. You still would've made her moan and pant your name as your skins melded together underneath her blankets, lightly scratching her back as she made you-

"Where did you just go?" She snapped you out of your thoughts again, but this time you were a bit upset about it. Your cheeks flushed red, burning hot. The smirk on her face told you that she had an idea, but you shook your head and ignored her question. 

"You are aware that this… thing can't happen anymore, right?" As your finger bounced in between you and her, her smile expanded, tinged with a mischievous glint that hinted at something devious lurking beneath. You found yourself needing to bite your tongue harshly in hopes that the pain would distract you from the warmth igniting in your gut.

"Obviously," she assured you and you sighed with relief. Now that the two of you were on the same page, maybe now you can stop stressing out about it. You knew for certain that you wouldn't be able to hold back when it came to her, so it was nice to see that at least one of you had some self-control. Quite honestly, the only thing stopping you from dragging her to your office and feeling her right then and there was the fact that you don't exactly know where your office was located just yet.

Maybe someday…

No. The relationship between you and Wanda Maximoff could not come to be. No matter how strong the connection, how tempted you’d be, it could never come to fruition. The unfortunate reality was that your relationship with the woman standing in front of you had to end before it even began.

That thought abandoned your mind when you watched her teeth catch her bottom lip, raising an eyebrow at you seductively. Your breath caught in your throat and your thoughts immediately became a jumbled, contradicting mess. She laughed as you finally managed to utter, "You're going to get me fired, Wanda."

"Director." You didn't turn, losing yourself in her eyes. You wanted to touch her. To take her face in your hands and connect your lips right at this moment, in front of everybody. New job be damned. And the annoyance that demanded your attention cleared their throat impatiently.

You turned your head to look at the addition to your conversation to see Coulson standing there, nodding his head at Wanda, a sign for her to skedaddle.

"I'll see you later, Director," Wanda hummed as she walked away, your head turning back so you could watch her leave.

"It's been more than a moment," Coulson pointed out, forcing yourself to tear your eyes away from Wanda's retreating figure to look at him.

You blinked. "What?"

"You're late," he clarified.

Your eyes widened. "Oh, right! What are you waiting for, Coulson? Let's get a move on." You gestured for him to lead the way, patting him on the shoulder when he rolled his eyes and turned his back on you.

"It's a good thing you're getting acquainted with the Avengers," he said as you walked alongside him. "You two know each other?"

"Not at all," you stated.

He hummed thoughtfully, clearly not believing you in the least bit. "That was Wanda Maximoff. She's got magic hands."

The snort that escaped your nose was involuntary. "She does indeed." You hadn't realized you said it until Coulson stopped moving to stare at you, his eyebrows bunched together, bewildered. You cleared your throat, your back straightening as you clarified, "That's what she told me earlier. She just didn't really tell me what she meant by it." You were right, there is no longer any more doubt in your mind that she was definitely going to get you fired. "Why don't you tell me more about Maximoff?" Though phrased as a question, he knew it wasn't one.

He continued forward and you easily matched his speed, walking alongside him. "She has a long list of powers," he started. "Telekinesis, energy and mind manipulation, and she can read thoughts. I’m willing to bet there’s more, she just hasn’t unlocked them yet."

You stopped walking this time, trying hard to keep your composure. "Mind reading?" So, she definitely knew what you had been thinking about earlier. "That's… nice to know." 

Observing your reaction to the subject being discussed, he quickly decided to switch gears. “Well, she’s not the only one on the team. There are other Avengers you have yet to meet. We’ll start with…” He gestured for you to follow as he led you through a set of doors, revealing a sprawling laboratory that occupied most of the floor.

Pausing at the entrance, you watched as Tony Stark worked intently on a holographic keyboard. It was only when Coulson began walking deeper into the lab that you followed, cautiously advancing until you stood in close proximity to the brilliant inventor.

"Who's disturbing my bubble?" The hologram vanished as his fingers moved away from it, turning his head to look at you.

"New director," Coulson explained. "We're just making the rounds and you're the first stop."

"Y/N," you extended your hand towards him. His gaze shifted from your hand to your eyes and, in that moment, it became abundantly clear that he was not going to meet the handshake. You quickly withdrew your hand and let it fall to your side.

"Tony Stark, but you already knew that." He smiled at you, though it seemed a bit forced as his eyes assessed you from head to toe, sizing you up. "You're a bit young to be a director of something like SHIELD, aren't you?"

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of annoyance at his comment. Without thinking, the words slipped out before you could sensor yourself, "You're a bit old to be playing dress-up, aren't you?" As soon as your response left your mouth, you realized the potential consequences of your remark. Insulting the man who was throwing a lot of his money into this agency was not the smartest move. All it would take is a simple “adios” and you’d be out of a job.

To your surprise, Tony simply smiled widely and extended his hand toward you. Stunned, you accepted the strong handshake. “It’s refreshing to have someone bite back," he said, glancing at Coulson. "Take notes."

"Yes, sir," Coulson agreed, nodding with a forced smile. You couldn't help but grin, crossing your arms over your chest.

As Coulson gestured for you to follow him, you lingered for a moment to watch Tony go back to work, biting on a pen when he watched a small simulation of his suit taking on a battle, to which the suit loses. He huffed in exasperation, taking the pen out of his mouth and tossing it aside. It made you wonder how long he had been tirelessly working on this project.

"I know someone who specializes in nanotech if that's something you're interested in," you confidently suggested, capturing the billionaire's attention. Ignoring Coulson’s constant attempts to guide you away, you continued, "I can introduce you to her if you'd like."

A spark of curiosity ignited in Tony’s eyes as he reached for the pen he had just thrown, handing it to you along with a scrap of paper. With a grin, you swiftly scribbled down the specialist’s name, eager to offer a valuable connection. Tony glanced at Coulson with piqued interest, “Where’d you find this one?”

“She found us, sir,” Coulson replied, monotonously, before subtly guiding you out of the lab with a hand on your back. "The rest of the team would be a lot easier to please."

"I'm not looking to please them." Well, not all of them, at least. There was one person you found yourself wanting to please more than most. She did things to you that you just can't ignore. "My job is to lead them. I'm not here to make friends." Or lovers, but you refrained from adding that.

"Nice to know," he stated, leading the way into the training room. "Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, meet your new director."

The pair, entangled in a fierce sparring session, paused and separated as Coulson made the introduction. It was evident that they were skilled fighters, evenly matched and fully engrossed in their training. Or they were just taking it easy. Friends normally don’t beat the shit out of each other just for fun. You shook their hands.

“Directors usually don’t properly introduce themselves,” Clint remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he rested his hands on his hips with a heavy breath. “They just read our files and assume they know us.”

“They sent the files, but I didn’t bother with them,” you confessed, shrugging loosely. “Bonds grow stronger when everybody’s on the same page, not reading personnel off of a piece of paper.” Glancing at Coulson, you added, “I’m making this guy walk me around the building to introduce me to the team face-to-face.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips as her arms folded over her chest. “Did you meet Steve yet?” Coulson fidgeted for a moment beside you, and one of your brows quirked up with interest at the sound of her teasing tone.

“I’m sure he’s next,” you replied, a faint smirk lifting a corner of your mouth when the redhead’s smile only grew wider. “I’m sensing an inside joke here.”

“Coulson is a bit of a fan of Rogers,” she explained.

“I have all his trading cards,” Coulson interjected, cutting the conversation off before it went much further. “We should get to it.”

“Can’t wait to see him, huh?” she joked, her grin turning sly as she stepped back. While they returned to their sparring, you and Coulson made your way out of the room.

“All of his trading cards?” you asked. “Do you have them laminated?”

“Each and every one of them,” he confirmed, and you could sense the pride hiding in his words.

He led you into the war room, where Steve Rogers stood, engrossed in a discussion with other agents about an ongoing mission. As the two of you entered, the captain’s attention shifted, and he straightened up, displaying his characteristic posture.

“Captain Rogers, this is Y/N, the new director,” Coulson announced, adopting a more professional demeanor in front of the patriotic hero. Natasha’s description of him being a fan seemed under-exaggerated, but maybe that was the point. You’re relieved to see that the team wasn’t all as serious as Coulson here.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Steve greeted respectfully, offering a small nod from his position across the table.

You pressed your lips together, a mischievous grin forming as his eyes traveled up and down your figure. “I know you all think I have big shoes to fill,” you began, acknowledging the weight of the previous director’s legacy. “Nick Fury was one of the best, but I’m here to bring about change. I’m not looking to repeat history.”

“I can respect that,” Steve commented, crossing his arms over his chest. A slight smile tugged at his lips, and you could feel Coulson’s subtle restlessness next to you. He was clearly worried you might embarrass him.

“What’s your current mission?” you asked, leaving Coulson’s side to join Steve at the table, studying the scattered papers.

“We’re dealing with drug dealers hijacking ambulances for narcotics,” he explained, arranging the papers to give you a better view. 

You looked up at him, a hint of surprise on your face. "I didn't expect a big-time Avenger to be doing a simple drug bust," you commented.

"You’re not the only one around here looking to make changes," he said. 

You grinned. "I can respect that."

Coulson cleared his throat and you both looked over him. "If you'll excuse us, Captain. We have a busy day ahead.”

"Of course," Steve said. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"As you, Cap." You accepted his hand when he offered it over the table, giving a strong, brief handshake before releasing you. You walked behind Coulson as you left the room, grinning widely as you moved to his side. As soon as you were clear from Steve's earshot, you spoke. "You're jealous." It wasn't a question, and Coulson didn't show any expression in the statement. What did it take to coax a genuine smile out of this stoic guy?

"Thor is off-world dealing with some other stuff," Coulson said, ultimately ignoring your comment. “Banner has been MIA since the incident in Sokovia. And, since you’re already acquainted with Maximoff, I’ll show you to your office.”

Your heart fluttered at her name, immediately looking away from him to hide the faded blush forming on your cheeks. Why did her name make you feel this way? You had just only met her last night, so there weren't any long-time feelings between the two of you. But just thinking about her is taking away your ability to breathe. You didn’t struggle to follow your tour guide, but you did have trouble straightening your mind. You had hoped these introductions would last longer, giving you more time to avoid having to deal with everything. But without any distractions, you were forced to succumb to the realization that Wanda Maximoff was going to be in your life for as long as you were the director.

"Here." You released a deep sigh when Coulson finally stopped to gesture towards a door, giving you the distraction you needed to catch your breath. “This is your office.” You released a puff of air at the closed door, your name engraved on a plate nailed in place. You couldn’t let the emotions get to you - not in front of Coulson, at least - but this seemed to have made your title a lot more official. “The door’s unlocked.” If you didn’t know any better, that was a passive way of rushing you. “We also left you a little treat as a welcome present.”

Your hand pressed down on the handle, pushing slowly against the door with the agent right on your heels, and you managed to look up just in time to see something in your office that was most definitely not Coulson’s “little treat.” You quickly backed out of the room, bringing the door with you as you turned to face him. A nervous laugh nearly crawled out of your throat, but you managed to swallow it just in time. “I’m pretty sure I can handle this part on my own, Coulson.” The man didn’t argue with you, shrugging and walking away without another word as you slipped into your office. “What are you doing?”

“This isn’t the kitchen?” Wanda sat at your chair, not even bothering a glance in your direction as she casually ate what looked like a croissant (most likely the treat Coulson was referring to). You huffed, glancing over your shoulder as you made your way to the desk. Finally, she looked toward you, a smirk tugging a corner of her lips. “I could’ve sworn it was…”

With every step you took, your heart raced harder and faster. You couldn’t deny the intense attraction you felt towards the woman occupying your desk, even though it seemed so sudden and unexpected. She leaned back in your chair, crossing her legs and taking another bite of the croissant, slow and drawn out as she maintained eye contact with you. You couldn’t help but notice how the crumbs fell onto her lap, biting the inside of your cheek rather harshly as your breathing hitched in your throat.

“Is there something you need, Agent Maximoff?”

She quirked an eyebrow at you, though that smirk still lingered on her lips as she hummed thoughtfully before saying, “Agent Maximoff?”

You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “That’s your name, isn’t it?” you replied.

“It is,” she answered, shrugging as she added, “but it’s a much different turn from what you were calling me last night.”

Her words hit you with surprising calmness, as if she were merely commenting on the weather. You struggled to hide the impact they had on you, the way they made your stomach twist and turn in a way that would make a professional dancer jealous. You had a job to do, and engaging in whatever this was with one of your employees was definitely not part of the job description.

You took a deep, steadying breath and reminded yourself of the boundaries that needed to be maintained. This was the type of position people would kill for (literally) and you didn’t want to blow it away by fraternizing. No matter how tempting the allure of a forbidden connection might be, you had to separate yourself from the matter. “I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression,” you expressed, your voice composed but firm. “Our interactions last night were outside the scope of our professional relationship. Neither you nor myself could’ve predicted this kind of… predicament. As of now, we need to focus on our respective roles within SHIELD.”

Wanda’s smirk faded slightly, and she leaned back in the chair. “Is that what you want?” she questioned, her tone holding a hint of defiance. “To just pretend like it never happened?”

You met her gaze - the way her eyes were soft nearly made you take back everything you had just said - but you maintained confidence in the matter, your expression determined to just rip this Band-Aid off and toss it in the garbage. “We have to be realistic, Agent Maximoff. We can not carry a personal relationship. It’s for the best if we maintain a professional distance moving forward.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly, and a flicker of disappointment passed through her eyes. “I understand,” she said quietly. She stood up, popping the rest of the croissant into her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. “You want to carry on like strangers.” A friendly smile lifted her lips, and you could feel a tug against your heart at the sudden loss of warmth.

You nodded, standing your ground. “It’s the right thing to do,” you affirmed, but your voice wavered slightly as you cleared your throat. As you spoke, you couldn’t help but notice how slowly Wanda was approaching you, as if she were a lioness hunting a gazelle. Panic fluttered in your chest, causing you to take a small step back. You made the mistake of meeting her intense, dangerously hungry green eyes. “I’m the Director, you’re an Avenger,” you stammered, your confidence suddenly faltering. The realization of the inappropriate proximity between the two of you struck you like lightning as the back of your legs bumped into a couch you didn’t bother to notice when entering the office, stepping to the side so your back hit the wall behind you instead. Wanda was now mere inches away, her presence enveloping you. Panic and desire wrestled within you, making it hard to form coherent thoughts. “I’m your boss. We…” You trailed off, a sharp breath catching in your constricted throat.

At that moment, Wanda’s grin transformed into a wicked smirk, her eyes seemingly penetrating your very soul. The air between you crackled with tension, and you could feel the heat radiating from her body, or perhaps it was the fire building up behind your flushed cheeks.

You were torn between the weight of responsibility and the magnetic pull of desire. The line between professional boundaries and personal longing blurred as the intensity of the moment consumed you both. The electric pressure hung in the air, captivating you and her in a web of conflicting emotions. Time seemed to slow down as you battled with the overwhelming desire and the consequences of succumbing to it.

“We can’t…” you managed to utter, your voice barely above a whisper, the words feeling feeble against the mounting temptation. Every fiber of your being yearned to give in, to explore the forbidden depths of this connection with Wanda. But the weight of your position as her superior, the potential repercussions, and the need to maintain professionalism weighed heavily on your conscience.

Wanda’s smirk only grew more wicked, her eyes gleaming with mischief and raw hunger. She leaned in closer, her breath brushing across your lips as she whispered, her tone dripping with seduction, “Who says we can’t? Sometimes rules are meant to be broken.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between reason and desire. You could feel the fire burning within you overwhelming any remnants of restraint. With a surge of courage, you closed the gap between you, surrendering to the intoxicating pull of her presence. The world around you faded away as your lips met in a fiery embrace, unleashing a torrent of passion that had been brewing beneath the surface. Walls crumbled, and the pressure of responsibility melted away as you both embraced that forbidden desire that had blossomed between you. In that stolen moment, you chose to abandon caution and surrender to the allure of a love that defied expectations. 

Wanda didn’t hesitate to return the kiss, making it more intense, more fervent. You were ultimately pinned against the wall by her body when she moved to get closer to you, feeling the tip of her tongue swipe your bottom lip, silently asking for permission, and she swallowed your moan when you granted it. Her hands gripped your hips to tug you flush into her, sparking a burning sensation in your core, and it only seemed to get hotter when her fingers danced up your body, slipping under your shirt to surf the smooth skin of your curves.

You pulled away breathlessly, your head falling back to the wall as her lips landed on your neck with no mercy, licking and sucking any spot she could touch. You attempted to say her name, to bring these overwhelming feelings to an end, but the only sound you could produce was a groan when her nails dug into you to leave crescent-shaped imprints on your shoulder blades. 

“You’re not doing a very good job at keeping things professional, Director,” she whispered, her lips suddenly brushing against your earlobe. She laughed, and your stomach tightened at the breathy sound so close to your ears. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were enjoying what I’m doing to you.” You gasped when her knee squeezed itself between your legs, pressing against you in a way that nearly had you whimpering. “I love the sounds you make for me, Y/N.”

“W- Wanda,” you whispered. “Ple…”

“That’s it, baby,” she breathed, laughing gently as she pulled away slightly to meet your gaze. Her eyes were dark with desire, hooded by a smoldering intensity that mirrored your own. “Tell me what you want.” She smirked, thoroughly enjoying this moment. “Do you want this?” She picked her knee up higher, pressing into you harder, causing your body to jerk forward at the feeling of her touch. Everything inside of you burned painfully, desperately. One of her hands descended across your spine, bringing it around to drag a finger down your gut until it reached the hem of your pants. Chills covered your arms when you felt her dive in without a second thought, an inhuman sound getting caught in your throat. The wide smile crawling on her face told you she found exactly what you wanted.

The sound of a knock on the door shattered the fragile bubble of intimacy that had enveloped you and Wanda. Time seemed to slow down as she moved away from you, your hearts pounding in sync. The handle turned, and your chest tightened with a surge of panic, fearing that your secret would be exposed.

With a casual nonchalance, Wanda stepped aside, effortlessly transitioning into a composed state. She sauntered over to the couch you had already forgotten about, settling herself as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, you seemed to struggle to regain your composure, attempting to mask any signs of the passionate encounter that had just taken place.

The interrupter entered the room without a second knock, Phil Coulson pausing at the door when his eyes landed on Wanda before they flickered to you. He cleared his throat, crossing his hands in front of him as he said, “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just a meeting, Coulson,” you claimed confidently, fully collected at the sight of your deputy, raising an eyebrow at him as you folded your arms over your chest. “We just finished.”

“Not really,” Wanda countered, and you didn’t need to look at her to know there was a teasing smirk faintly tugging a corner of her lips, “but I’m more than willing to wait to thoroughly finish later on, Director.” You managed to fight the shivers that rode your body, but the chills that erupted across your spine were a different story. You wondered if Coulson could hear the way she calls you Director, or if it was all in your head. She stepped into your field of vision when she made her way toward the door, giving Coulson a happy smile as she rested her hand on the door handle. She looked at you over her shoulder, and you could feel your cheeks flush when you saw the darkened look in her eyes.

The door seemed to echo when she closed it behind her, sealing you and Coulson in the room. His words cut through the lingering tension, bringing your attention back to him. “I apologize for interrupting, ma'am,” he began, his voice laced with urgency, “but we have a bit of an emergency.” He stepped closer, holding a tablet that illuminated with an image on the screen. “It seems that Thor’s notorious brother, Loki, has returned to Earth.”

The weight of the situation settled upon you, dispelling the remnants of desire and reminding you of your responsibilities as a leader.  As Coulson played the video, you watched a seemingly ordinary scene: Loki calmly walking down a sidewalk. It felt odd to watch. Loki’s presence seemed to always bring a catalyst for chaos and destruction, so you find it difficult to believe that his return could just be taking a stroll, enjoying the sunshine.

Coulson’s gaze met yours, and you could see the faint colors of concern clouding his eyes. “We need to assess the situation and determine his intentions,” he expressed. “While it may seem inconspicuous now, we can’t underestimate the threat he poses.” The memory of Loki’s previous misdeeds lingered in your mind, a vivid reminder of the destruction he had wrought. It was clear that immediate action was necessary to prevent another catastrophe.

“I don’t want to waste time waiting for him to make a move,” you declared, your arms crossing firmly over your chest. Your gaze shifted back to the tablet, a sense of urgency seemingly squeezing your heart. “Loki didn’t return just to enjoy the scenery. Bring him in.”

Coulson nodded, tucking the tablet under his arm. “I’ll mobilize our resources and initiate the necessary protocols,” he affirmed, determination steeling his expression. “We’ll do everything in our power to locate and apprehend Loki swiftly.”

You strode purposefully past him, making your way to your desk. With a swift motion, you brushed away the loose croissant crumbs from the chair before settling down. As you took your seat, your voice carried an air of authority, “I trust you understand the importance of conducting this mission covertly.” Your attention moved away from the man standing in front of the door to one of the papers resting on the surface of your desk. “We cannot afford to have the public become aware of Loki’s presence, not after the chaos that ensued during his previous visit to our planet.”

He nodded in agreement. “I will assemble a team that can operate discreetly,” he replied.

“Make sure Maximoff is included in the roster,” you stated unequivocally, your voice firm and decisive as you reached for a pen.

Coulson hesitated, stepping forward to stand on the opposite side of your desk. He cleared his throat, attempting to voice his concerns, but you were quick to shut him down, “She may be fresh, but, from what you’ve told me about her, her powers have the potential to match Loki’s.” Your eyes locked onto his, and the next words that came from your mouth held a hint of a challenge. “Did you mislead me about her abilities, Deputy Coulson?”

His head shook vigorously. “No, ma'am,” he responded quickly, his tone filled with conviction.

“Then what seems to be the problem?” you pressed, a brow arching with curiosity.

He squirmed under your scrutinizing gaze, his discomfort palpable. “She hasn’t fully gained the trust of the others,” he claimed. 

A smile played at the corners of your lips as you leaned back in your chair, assessing Coulson intently while tapping the tip of the pen against your palm. “This mission presents the perfect opportunity for her to earn that trust,” you countered. “I don’t recall my orders being up for debate.”

“Understood, Director,” he responded, resolved. You could see the way his jaw tightened in irritation, but you chose to overlook it as he added, “Agent Maximoff will be included in the mission.” You nodded, acknowledging his commitment, and watched as he walked away, disappearing through the closing door.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you released a heavy sigh, feeling the full weight of being director bearing down on you. Exhaustion crept through your body, and you sank deeper into your chair, running a hand over your face in an attempt to dispel some of the weariness that had settled upon you. You tossed your pen back onto the desk when a realization dawned on you…

Today was just day one.

[agentrouka-blog]

do you think jeyne poole will live? like a long and peaceful(or will try) life or?

Oh yes, absolutely.

GRRM used her character for plot reasons, and to make a big terrible point about hypocrisy and classist disregard in a big number of people. But he won't end it there.

From Jaime Lannister to the collective Northern nobility, no one would bother raising a hand to protect Jeyne Poole for her own sake. It's inconvenient. It would raise a fuss no one can bother to deal with. Only Theon comes to care for her as a person. Only Sansa remembers her friend.

Jeyne is only barely a step above the peasant girls Ramsay hunts for sport. He names his dogs after them, several are called Jeyne.

Even after she escapes with Theon's help, she must remain "Arya".

Jeyne Poole had wept all the way from Winterfell to here, wept until her face was purple as a beetroot and the tears had frozen on her cheeks, and all because he told her that she must be Arya, or else the wolves might send them back. "They trained you in a brothel," he reminded her, whispering in her ear so the others would not hear. "Jeyne is the next thing to a whore, you must go on being Arya." He meant no hurt to her. It was for her own good, and his. She has to remember her name. When the tip of her nose turned black from frostbite, and the one of the riders from the Night's Watch told her she might lose a piece of it, Jeyne had wept over that as well. "No one will care what Arya looks like, so long as she is heir to Winterfell," he assured her. "A hundred men will want to marry her. A thousand." (TWOW, Theon)

But names are important, even if they aren't convenient.

And suddenly there came a wild thumping, as the maester's ravens hopped and flapped inside their cages, their black feathers flying as they beat against the bars with loud and raucous caws. "The tree," one squawked, "the tree, the tree," whilst the second screamed only, "Theon, Theon, Theon." Theon Greyjoy smiled. They know my name, he thought. (TWOW, Theon)

It's only when he embraces his true identity, in the first chapter that carries his name in ADWD, that Theon can rise to save Jeyne. He is filled with joy at remembering himself, even after all he endured. Even while still pushing Jeyne into the pretense of a different name.

GRRM isn't using mirroring language for nothing. Jeyne will return to herself. Even after all she endured, she will know joy and belonging. There is life after trauma.

AFFC and TWOW contain the first mention of Jeyne Poole from Sansa's end since ACOK.

She had not had a friend to gossip with since poor Jeyne Poole. (AFFC, Alayne II)

For just a little while, as she ran, she forget who she was, and where, and found herself remembering bright cold days at Winterfell, when she would race through Winterfell with her friend Jeyne Poole, with Arya running after them trying to keep up. (TWOW, Alayne I)

The mentions tie her to friendship and to Sansa's own true identity.

GRRM isn't building that up for nothing, and the theme of identity and friendship, the mirror to Theon suggests a reunion that will validate Jeyne as a person worth of consideration for her own sake.

And that's where the idea of justice will come in. Jeyne is the perfect crown witness against Littlefinger, who is complicit in the plot of false identity to tamper with legitimacy of Northern rulership and the rights to Winterfell. He's a collaborator with not just the Lannister regime but House Bolton. There's barely any proof for his crimes, and none that Sansa can safely divulge, but this is a proper witness account for a trial.

Just like it's extremely likely that the dogs, with their various Jeynes, will be involved in the demise of Ramsay (though not the way the show did it) in order to give justice to the peasant girls he murdered, it's likely that Jeyne Poole will have a hand in creating justice against Littlefinger, one of the architects of her misery. And with the protection and regard of Sansa (and Arya), it will be made clear that even a person of lower rank like Jeyne Poole has a voice and importance.

And then she will go on and live her life.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

60 - Glimpse into the Rains

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

Length: 16.4k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, references to trauma/traumatic childbirth, past character deaths, blood and violence, disturbing imagery, mild smut, illusions to abuse

Notes: Certain events specifically told in a non linear fashion. I apologize for no update last week! Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The rules were simple. A game of hunter and prey, Jon and Robb would hunt you and Theon through the wolfswood like you were the prey and they the predators. If you one or both of you could stay hidden until the moon rose to the middle of the night sky, then you win. But the two wolves knew this place like the back of their hand. It took a good few hours at the start in the afternoon. Yourself and Theon were fast runners, and were clever at tricking the two of them when you went in different directions. Sometime as evening begun, Jon and Robb had stood in a clearing to catch their breath as Jon begun to look up and around with a smirk. “What is it?”

Gesturing up to the trees, Jon mentioned your name. “She’s climbing the trees to escape. Leaving tracks one way, probably walking backwards in them until she reached a tree to climb.” Robb noting that they were thick enough you could go from one to another if need be.

Taking a large drink of water from his own skin, Robb handed to Jon. “I don’t think she’s ever given us this much of a chase before.” Jon only jested asking if he wasn’t up for it, and Robb looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re the one who needed to stop, Snow.”

It wasn’t much more then an hour later, did at the same time a loud ruckus come about in the woods, as both wolves found and tackled Theon into the ground. Recruiting him, Theon noted that he hadn’t seen you in a long time. That you went your own way and he lost track of you, but that it was hours ago. The two of them debating how far you would’ve gone, but Jon stayed silent as he looked around the woods. You didn’t go far at all, you were watching them right now. He was sure of it.

But as the rain begun, drop by drop before an outlandish pouring of water that drenched the three of them instantly, did Robb call it. “We should go back, before it gets too dark.” Theon asking what about you, and he and Robb tried calling out to you saying that the game was over. But you didn’t make a single sound. Jon’s eyes grew darker in the night rain as he looked over to one specific little cliffside that kept calling to his attention.

“She thinks it’s a trick. Taking it as a challenge not to come out.” Turning back to them, Jon later wondered if perhaps he knew what he was really doing when he said it. “You two go on, I’ll find her and drag her back.” Of course, Robb and Theon thought nothing of it, and jested to take it easy on you. Jon waited until he knew the two of them were long gone before he turned back to scour the trees.

Now, it was just him and you alone in the wolfswood and the pouring rain.

It was clever, what you were doing. Slowly moving from one dark backdrop to the other, only using the sound of the heavy rain to hide when you needed to be any stealthier. But Jon was stealthy as well, you knew how to climb, but Jon knew he was the one who taught you to be quiet and quick. He knew all your tricks.

Was he toying with you? Absolutely he was. Not making any move towards you, just watching. Your dress much more light then your usual ones. More of a leather like fabric in the skirt with cuts in the sides for you to run easily in, and your hair had fallen from the braid down loose around your shoulders. No doubt, you thought stopping to fix it would take too much time.

So Jon followed. Your eyes switching from confident to unsure to sporadically tracking back and forth in a fear attempting to figure out what was around you. He loved watching it. Seeing the cogs turn in your mind, knowing that it was Jon whom was stalking you and seeing what kind of reaction it was giving you.

The path you were making was clever. The lake you were trying to make it towards was closer to the castle, if you got there, you could make a run for it before Jon caught you. Back pressed against a tree, Jon slunk through the rain to come to the other side. The tree trunk thick enough that he could kneel slightly to brace himself. Jon felt just like a wolf.

Dark narrow eyes waiting to catch his prey when they were none the wiser. The very second you made a run for it, did Jon leap up and grab you. Arms winding around your front as he yanked you back into his chest. Your hands first attempted to pry off of him, but to no avail against his strength. “Alright, alright. You win, now let me go.”

But he didn’t. And as soon as you settled, Jon felt it.

Something was different. He had been this way with you more then once, but as he stood here now, something felt not the normal between you. His voice a deep rasp, almost as if something within him was trying to allure you like searching for a mate. Leaning down to speak it right into your ear, “I think you’re forgetting who the wolf is here.”

He knew it was different. The way you stiffened up, but too could he see that your breathing was getting heavier. Not catching any breath, but as if it were pure nerves running through your blood. Too did you no longer make any move to leave his touch, but your voice was high pitched, and pretending to be calm when Jon could feel how vastly unsure you were. “Stags are bigger then wolves, Snow.”

Jon either knew the truth, or he was losing his mind. You felt it. He wasn’t sure if you understood what it was you were feeling, but you felt it. The charged air between you that was almost addicting. Not parting from your back at all, but Jon let go of you only to rest his hands on your upper arms to pin them gently to your side. His rasp no longer something he put on, but the husk which came accompanied by such dark eyes looking down at you. “Stags are male. Besides, you’re too small to be one anyways. You’re more like a deer. You know what deer are to wolves, Baratheon?”

Just as he leaned over you shoulder to look at you better, did you turn your head slightly as if to catch a glimpse at him right back. The dark curls of his hair brushing against your cheek as you seemed too afraid to look up at his eyes, even though he could see yours were wide and uncertain. You had no breath to speak with, despite not at all out of air. The nerves in you were almost tingling the skin under his touch as you answered him with almost a whisper. “Prey?”

The chuckle was genuine. The answer from you so innocent and cute, but it made the part of Jons mind still in hunter mode growl deeply. He knew. You might not have the words to speak it, but Jon did. You felt whatever this was between you. There was no mistaking it, what Jon felt, he knew you felt for him. But alone with him in the woods and the dark in the rain, it was making you more nervous then you could handle to deal with it.

As if making a run for it, like the game still on you tried to leave his grasp. But he couldn’t let you go. If you made it to the castle, you’d both just go to your separate chambers and never speak of the electrifying sensation whirring between you. Jon had the courage, and if you ran from him now, he may never have it again. So he called your name, grabbed you by your arm and with a bit more force then he intended, moved you so your back was essentially tossed against a tree.

Coming up to your front, he called your name again but too words were caught in his throat. Looking down at you, your eyes in the rain so bright and green. Hair loose and beautiful down the sides of your head. Your chest heaved as you looked up at him. The rain had made your clothes cling to your body, showing off what you hid away everyday on purpose.

Jon’s eyes flickered down only enough for you not to notice, but he saw it. You had the body of a woman, soft curves, breasts that his hands itched to feel under his palms. But your eyes were so innocent. You looked up to him, confused not understanding what this was and wanting him to help you.

But words wouldn’t make it easy. It was a risk, and if he was wrong in anyway, you’d reject it and he’d have ruined everything. But Jon was sure you felt it too. So before even saying a word to you, Jon cupped both of your cheeks. Leaning down as he brought you up, and pressed his lips to yours.

Soft and perfect, your eyes closed as his did. Following his every movement. Jon had never kissed a girl before, but it was no great trick. He kissed you exactly as felt natural, and every movement you followed like you were an animal being leashed to your next destination. Just following Jons kiss, your arms without even realizing, had moved up. Wrapping around the back of his neck, your hands sunk into Jons curls for something to grasp onto.

One hand on your cheek, Jon let the other slide over to your hair, running his fingers through the soft strands as he tilted your head to an angle much better for him. Only as a sound like a high pitched whine came from you, did Jon finally pull back. Not letting go of you in the slightest, he looked down. Your eyes fluttered open slowly before looking up at his. Your hands grasped tighter into his curls, and you needed to only say one thing in a gentle, innocent voice for Jon to feel that need grow. “Jon..”

Pulling you back to his lips, Jon suddenly pressed you against the tree trunk behind you. His front tight against yours, your hands never leaving him as Jon let the hand at your cheek leave to smooth along your waist before wrapping around your back and pulling you close. Almost as if to give him leverage to kiss you even deeper when he stepped forward to crowd over you.

Breathless he made you, your lips so sweet tasting that it pulled a grunt up to his chest as he kissed you with a bit more roughness to savour that taste. His hand in your hair almost acting as a refusal to let you leave his kiss, his hand behind your back sliding to your hip more, fingertips toying just at the lowest point of them before his fingers could barley trace the top of your ass.

Once, twice he tried to pull back. Only to do so enough, that as his eyes opened and yours stayed closed, Jon gently nudged your nose with his. Prompting one more chaste and gentle kiss, pouring the remainder of feelings Jon didn’t know how to say he felt for you. Every feeling that walked him right up to the edge before just outright saying it was love.

Finally pulling back. Strands of saliva traced between you both. Snapping only as Jon muttered your name with a gentle rasp. “How are you feeling?” Such an innocent tone you gave with a jest that you were a little cold, both of you laughed into the others touch. Tilting your head to look up at him, and that uncertainty was still there, but it read something else.

He couldn’t be sure, but once more Jon let his nose run the length of yours before leaving one last, slow kiss to your lips as if he couldn’t help himself. “Let’s get you back to the castle.” Turning you in his arms, Jon never let you walk without feeling his touch on you somewhere.

The shiver on you likely both the cold and the nerves from what just happened. Lips tingling, Jon would glance over to yours. You gently biting down on them before stopping as if trying to recall what it felt like when Jon was kissing you. Not many were around so late, and none who cared to question why you both came back from the rain this way.

Jon had never done anything to give the reputation he would attempt a single thing out there with you. Walking you to your chambers first, Jon prompted you to open the door. Not yet stepping in, something much more uncertain came over your eyes. Hands grasping the edge of the door frame as you looked nervously at him. Voice but a whisper, “Jon, about what-”

Shaking his head, Jon cupped one of your cheeks, his rasp just as low only for you. “It’s late. Get warm, and get some sleep for me first. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Waiting for you to nod, Jon didn’t want to linger. He would bombard you with too much of his feelings if he stayed and he needed to be more easy on you. His heart carving a place just for you, as you muttered in such a sweet tone that he was certain no one but him ever heard, “Goodnight, Jon.”

Jon didn’t notice that you watched him walk the entire way of the hall until he could no longer be seen. That your hands and nails dug into the wood and you bit down on your tongue so hard it would hurt come morning. As Jon walked to his chambers with his head in a cloud, he had no idea that you were the opposite.

Shaking in hands and breath, you swiftly closed your door. Only to hide your mouth in your shaking palm as the tears finally fell free, and a single shaking breath wanting to turn to a sob, came with it. Unable to bring yourself to sleep yet, you quickly wiped away any tearss until you came to your window. Lighting a small candle before you sat down on your bed before it.

Your voice shaking and tears still falling, you prayed to The Maiden that night, a heart wrenching confession through fallen tears that you had just ruined everything with your best friend. That you had sinned, and tempted a man who was good and honourable into being physical with you. That you didn’t mean to do that to him, but tears saying you were sorry for it.

Your only ask that in the morning, the Maiden allow you to keep your friendship with Jon, as long as you would apologize to him for everything.

As Jons eyes opened, it was still the pitch black of night outside his window. Strange he had thought, that such a memory came to him then. Stranger even, that he had seen parts of you he hadn’t really known before. Of course, he knew later how you had not reacted to his kiss the way he thought, but still did he live through his own recollection of the night and yours. Sitting more up with his back against the headboard, Jon could only look down to you in wonder.

Still fast asleep, he wondered as he did many times. Did he dream it on his own? Or did he dream it because you were dreaming it? It had gotten stronger and happened more often since he took you far north. Walking your dreams as if they were his, and too often were they memories. But he would take that over his normal dreams anytime.

It was a rare night since returning home that Jon had dreamt of anything else. Normally his dreams the past few weeks were plagued with one memory turned nightmare to torment him. The shaking fear you couldn’t hide anymore, the screaming, the blood. Those few terrifying seconds where he himself had pulled his son into the world trying to prompt him to cry. Those seconds where he knew his son was too early, too small, and it would be so easy for him not to make it. He couldn’t even explain that fear, but he relived it every night.

He would relive that moment where his son finally made a sound like a cough before it turned to crying like any other newborn. Only for him to look up, his eyes trailing passed the blood only to not know for another few seconds if you were alive. But in Jons memory, they turned to the nightmare he had feared almost in tandem with the truth.

His little son would never cry, his eyes would tear up to you and find you truly gone, and by the time his eyes returned to his son, he was gone too and it was Jon and Ghost alone. In the echo of the cave he could hear your screams after you were gone, and the moment they became so loud they were painful in his ears would Jon startle awake.

Most of those nights, Jon would find himself repeating a process he did at the start. Tearing off the fur from you and his hand would hover over you. No blood or anything, and you were merely fast asleep. Then he was searching for the wounds that bled you out, but now he searched for blood in general. There never was, but now he couldn’t go back to sleep right away. Now Jon had another step as he slowly did so in the present.

Carefully climbing out of bed, a hand running over your hair before he pressed his lips to your forehead as if to calm yourself from waking up. Making his way to his sons cradle, he’d lean down. Rest a hand on his front, and feel his tiny little breaths as well. Sometimes little Eddard would shift to lean more to Jons touch, his thumb now running what he could of his sons cheek as something emotional choked within his throat.

Were anyone to ask, Jon would say in the just over a fortnight that passed since his birth, likely only three or four nights Jon had gone without having that nightmare. Without dreaming of that night in the horror it already existed within before it turned to what he then feared. It made his days more difficult after that. The more hours he would spend away from you and Eddard the more agitated and paranoid he got that something was wrong.

It never was, you both were always fine and almost always together. But it didn’t change the truth, that he wasn’t handling it well. Being home after having you to himself for months, being away from you and being away from the baby. The dream turned nightmare only adding to that pain, and making him frustrated that he couldn’t just keep his eyes on you both at all times.

Sighing deeply, his eyes closing for just as long as it took to do so, Jon let his muscles relax just the slightest. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the top of his sons head before returning to you. Never having stirred awake even slightly, did Jon crawl back in beside you. But he knew the look on your face when he did so. If he shared your dream earlier, you were now having a nightmare of your own without him.

Pulling you close into his arms, Jon ran a hand soothingly down your hair as he could only hope his presence was enough to calm it away from you. As much as Jon never told you he was having nightmares, you never told him you were having them too. And that they had all gotten worse since that night in the cave.

It wasn’t a coincidence, you knew that much.

That the days Littlefinger spent skulking about the halls of Winterfell more, were the days things became more tense amongst the Starks. The more his weasely face made itself known, the more everyone felt on edge. You kept away from him the most, normally the baby with you and you wanted nothing more then to keep him from that man as far as possible. Everyone distrusted him, and something felt wrong about it.

The way he watched certain people more then others. You knew he watched you, and you knew partially why. But to be so hasty in acting on it was a mistake, and you and Jon both knew that. You knew he had something to do with many events which fell upon both you and the Starks but it felt as if there were pieces missing. Something to connect that you couldn’t put your finger on, something that it seemed no one else was picking up on.

But they picked up on enough. They picked up on the simple fact that he was still hovering around Winterfell for a reason, and that reason along with his hidden one, was a problem. But, the problems stemming from Littlefinger was one thing. Trying to pull Sansa back to the side of trusting her family more then him, was another.

That was not a task so easily done, and whatever lies and manipulations she had been taught and told by Littlefinger were only clashing more with the girl wanting to be with her family. He could not seem to find a way to drive a wedge between Sansa and yourself, so it seemed he was going into this very heavily and very manipulatively to drive a further wedge between Sansa and Jon.

As you were not sure you had ever seen their dynamic more broken then it had been lately.

It was as if from the very moment Sansa had joined early in the morning to eat, had she begun the determination to argue with Jon at nearly every interval. Not raising her voice, but a calm yet condescending tone attached to multiple disagreements no matter what the topic at hand would turn too. From morning to evening, if they were in the same room, she found a way to voice a frustrating disagreement towards him.

You weren’t even sure you had seen her and Arya get along that poorly. As if scraping away at Jons patience, but few felt the compulsion to chime in about it. It was no uncertainty that the biggest source of tension was between the two of them already, considering what Sansa had thought was to be here for her and what she found no longer with the rights too.

How on earth they had gotten onto the point of discussion regarding events neither were even there to witness, arguing to this degree you did not know. Right in the time which a meeting was to be held, did little Eddard make himself known as Jon had been the one holding him. Small arms worming their way out of the blanket keeping him warm to make a somewhat grabbing and waving motion towards you, a gentle smile shared between Jon and yourself knowing what such dedicated attempts to go to you meant.

Assuring Jon that should the baby finish feeding in time, you would join him but he had told you passingly not to worry if you couldn’t. Murmuring against your hair as he pressed his lips there, “Don’t worry about all that. You’re priority is him, I’ll handle the rest.”

What you had not been privy too, were the words shared as Jon arrived in the meeting hall without you. The main long table which sat a King and his council within the halls of Winterfell had shifted somewhat. Jons seat was that of his fathers, right in the middle. This time though, to his right did not sit different lords or whatnot. Instead there was a new structure to the order. Your seat next to him presently empty, followed by now Maege Mormont, then Howland Reed and with Maester Wolkan lastly.

Beside Jon for the previous while had been Arya, now though sat one seat down from him. Bran normally would’ve found home next to her, but found it far easier to sit at the end seat which he did not even need assistance with in shifting himself now from his new wheelchair to proper seat. At the edge of the closest table rather then by her father on the other side was Meera. She and Bran through everything they must have been through, thus far had not found it in them to at all part ways, and many including Jon had found himself enjoying her presence. She and Arya were alike in some ways, which had made it very easy to almost treat her like his own little sister something which seemed as new to her as likely comforting.

Sansa sat as the second eldest, at Jon’s other side. At first unsure about being up there but Jon had insisted that she was a Stark, of course she belonged up there. But that afternoon, something it seemed had struck her from within. When Jon arrived alone, she had asked rather stiffly where you were. Jon hadn’t thought much of his response in truth, and those who were not seeking things to poke holes into also had not thought much about it. “She’s with the baby.”

Jon found brief words with another about an entirely separate matter, but Sansa had stood there. Gripping the edge of her chair to the point she wondered if she should put on gloves to simply side the strain in her knuckles as she thought about it. Only as they all sat down did she more quietly follow her question up with one much more notably drenched in a tone. “Will she be joining?”

In his own mind, he knew how soon ago you would’ve been able to sit and start to feed the baby, and knowing how the little one liked to take his time, not to even mention how after, he’d almost always end up dropping his head down onto your shoulder with a snuggle to fall asleep. If you got lucky and he was quick about it, you would. But Jon simply knew his son and how unlikely it would be. “Probably not.”

Again, he said little but without malice. So why was it, as he sat, did he feel the eyes of Sansa from the side trying to glare into him. And he had thought, she would at least find it within reason to withhold whatever contempt she was feeling from out bursting here of all places.

None of any context though, was within your knowledge. Perhaps you would not get there in time for much, but you’d rather put your effort into making it for minutes rather then none at all. Slipping into the side doors with as much quiet as could be found, few even noticed your presence, nor as you slipped into your seat beside Jon, who was far more tense then when he had left you. That however did not seemed to be helped, by the one he was going back and forth with.

You hadn’t any idea the discussion before but Sansa had been the one you heard first with a stern and frustrated tone looking over to Jon beside her. “So there’s no punishment for treason and no reward for loyalty?”

The tension in the room was thick, and glancing sternly to his sister without any question, Jons voice projected through the hall without having to even attempt raising it in volume. “The punishment for treason is death. I executed Ramsay Bolton, the men who fought for him died on the field at battle.”

Sansa however, whatever this was, vocalized something which did not quite register to you once she had already said it. “They died fighting for Ramsay. The castle should be given to a family of men who died fighting for you.” Jon only looked at her for a short moment, lines in his head connecting in a way that only told him a clearer story about a man not within this hall.

Again, his voice was firm and without the same level of condescension and yet it rung with a narrowly conceived veil of anger few could detect which were not you. “Who is the youngest member of House Karstark?” No one answered as his eyes were towards Sansa from where he stood, and your brows only narrowed even further in a confusion. But when Sansa had not said anything, Jon turned swiftly to the men before him with the same question to one in particular. “Smalljon Umber, who is the youngest of the Karstarks as of today?”

“That would be the little Lady Alys, your Grace.”

Jon did not yet turn to Sansa, and continued to look more knowingly at Smalljon, his tone not yet changed from even and calm to all but your ears. “And could you tell my sister how old Alys Karstark is?” At the answer of fourteen, Jon nodded and the later sat down. Jon not turning back to his sister, but the crowd. If it would ever need addressing once, he disliked needing to do it again but did not hesitate this, just as he hadn’t the last which you struggled still, to remember. The only notion he was aware you had joined, as he had directed towards you saying your name and Robb’s as all paid close attention.

“Rickard Karstark was executed by my brothers own hand as punishment for his crimes. Harald Karstark was not punished too for his fathers crimes, nor Alys either. I will not punish a son for his fathers sins. If I were to strip Karhold from their name, where’s the justice in forcing a young girl from her home when she did not commit her father or brothers crimes. Where would any of us tell her to go if not the home which has belonged to her family for centuries?”

Nodding more to the crowd further, Jon elaborated. “When I led men to march against Ramsay, the only Northerners I had at my side were a few hundred between House Mormont and House Glover. I had only a few thousand free folk and a few hundred of my own people. My Lady,” turning to where Maege sat with a stern pride in her own eyes he asked, “Would you have me strip the men here all of their homes for not coming to our aide first?”

Firm as she was serious, a louder answer of “No I would not, your Grace.” Was enough for the room to be clear on what this was. His people had bled enough, Jon was finished with punishing them further for things which needed to by now, be forgotten amongst them all. None here seemed at first to know, why it was Sansa had dug up this issue now.

Jon of all people however, was curious as to why her plight of the Karstarks loyalty had matched so close to the argument put forth a year ago by Barbrey Dustin. “If we’re going to survive this winter together, we have to look past what led us here. Who did what before does not matter, all that matters is what we do going forward. The Boltons, Ramsay, all of that is behind us now, I won’t hear anymore of it. We all need one another, not to turn on each other for this reason or that. That isn’t the kind of kingdom my brother trusted in me to build after him, and I will not allow us to start now.”

You felt almost daft, not understanding in any way why it was her response in silence was a seething irritation, as she spoke no more of the meeting and allowed Jon to lead it unencumbered. She more then once you noticed, tried to seek your attention out but squarely you kept yours on Jon and whomever else it was which spoke. More and more you found yourself asking the same question again and again the closer the meeting drew to a close.

Not what it was Sansa truly wanted, but what was it which Littlefinger had convinced Sansa was what she was supposed to want? And why did such animosity for Jon become included in that?

The fallout was no prettier, as most had left from the meeting hall Jon firmly called Sansas name once she had made her way to stand and depart. Turning, there still was the same degree of a hardly concealed glare within her eyes, only for a moment did she scatter the to you and back and narrowed then further. Little had you thought merely continuing to sit as long as Jon still had reason to be in here would have been the reason her frustration grew.

His voice was low enough it became no ones business but the small bubble between the three of you yet did not at all lack the seriousness which demanded a listen to authority with respect. “You’re my sister, but I am King now.”

The judgment thick in her tone was almost petulant like a child. “So because you’re King I’m never allowed to question you on anything anymore?”

Tilting his head a little, Jon spoke the same without talking down to her as it was as if she attempted to do to him, your eyes unsure between the two of them what was ramping this up without any provocation between the previous days. “When you question my decisions in front of the other Lords and Ladies like that, you undermine me.”

Asking shortly when she would ask then, you had turned to look up at her, feeling almost on instinct the subtle shift of warmth as if Jon moved towards you the moment your voice finally rung in his ears. “There is a time and a place for disagreements, but in front of everyone in that manner is not it. You are family, Sansa. You discuss such issues in a more private setting, just as you are doing now. Arguing with your King in front of his men is the last place to voice such concerns.”

Were you invisible, you wondered? As she hardly looked at you before directing her still terse nature towards Jon, other eyes such of the Starks to the side trying not to look as if they were trying to hear things. Jon’s voice fell to a softer tone, dropping much of what remained in lecture from his voice and stance. “You’re still new to this, you can’t jump in assuming you’re the smartest person in the room only because you disagree with what’s being said.”

“Don’t treat me as if I’m a child.”

That got attention, loud enough any eyes remaining turned to look as Jon and Sansa stood as if in a competition of who would break first, but Jon you knew held his ground better then anyone else. Though, in your attempt to stand he had all but read your mind, knowing you only meant to stand between and deescalate the tension. Jons hand reaching out to cover yours as it braced by the top edge of your seat to stand, the slight squeeze was an ask to trust he handle this here and now.

Again, you did not notice Sansa’s eyes flickering to the movement. Jon did. Even if neither said a word regarding it. “I’m trying to help you-” Cutting him off she once more threw the idea in his face by rewording it in an ask if he really meant trying to coddle. Such wording implying in your mind as if he was treating her like someone weak in need of protection, when that was far from what any else was deriving from the tense moment. “That isn’t what I’m doing, but if you feel like I am, I’m sorry. I won’t coddle you, but you can’t undermine me. Understood?”

It took no skill or magic of mind reading to sense she did not like that, not the tone, nor the soft brotherly way it was said or the absoluteness of the way it was phrased. Something akin to a huff left her lips as she falsified a smile if you’d ever seen a fake one. “Would listening to me really be the worst thing?”

Jon though, was almost passing when he said it, not entertaining the steering of her back to an argument. “When you’re suggestion isn’t that I make an innocent girl without a home for crimes she didn’t commit, then maybe. That isn’t rewarding men for loyalty or punishing men who did wrong. That’s treating a child only a year younger then Bran with a cruelty she doesn’t deserve. That isn’t the way we do things, it never has been.”

Strangely enough, Sansa only glared between Jon and yourself before an unconvincing nod, just as mocking and non committing as her attempts to appear like she was not glaring openly between Jon and yourself, before leaving the hall without another word.

Though that did not stop the three watchful eyes, the first naturally coming from Arya. “What in seven hells was that all about?” Looking to Meera as she commented how disrespectful Sansa had been the entire meeting, with Bran adding he had seen Sansa in a mood or two as a girl but nothing ever quite that openly hostile.

Glancing down to the hand still against yours, Jon only squeezed it tighter, adjusting his grip as you too moved to try and hold it back best you could from such an angle. His brows furrowed and with a frustration returning to the weight of his shoulders, shaking his head with a dismissal gentle on his words. “Go easy on her, getting used to being here takes time. Especially with how different she left it.”

Meera and Arya spared a glance, the former nodding between the brother and sister she stood between. “They’ve gotten used to being back, I don’t understand why she would have such a harder time.” But you and Jon both knew the root of it was more simple then what was guessed aloud between the three teens. Grey eyes looked down to you, a lightness bright in his eyes almost begging to have time with alone alone so this weight attached to him would disappear, you knew the truth as well as he did.

It was not being home Sansa needed adjusting too, it was something, or someone, putting it within her head that she shouldn’t get adjusted to Jon. Not being around nor being King. And again you asked yourself, what did Littlefinger tell her, convince her what she wants and why did putting her at such odds with Jon play a role in that to this growing degree.

It had been later when strange events all occurred at once. The afternoon was one thing, but then evening came for the other, and the sun begun to drop down away from the skies of Winterfell. The castle normally teeming with life always begun to subdue in those sort of hours, and as wishful you felt walking the corridor of wanting to have quiet to simmer the whirling mass of thoughts within your head, two others had very different paths.

Sansa would return to her room after, pulling out the papers hidden away of her journal and scribbled down what to her, looked like even more evidence of what she was worried about. She had gone to find you, wanting to reach out to you, clear her head and shake off these distrusting thoughts that had her doing little more then spitting in anger everytime she spoke to Jon. But Jon had found you at the same time, but was the first and only to be noticed.

Having watched from a corner, she was too far to hear what either of you said to one another but she knew she did not like the rest of it. Thinking he had you all alone, it seemed you had tried to brush him off to go off to your own business as was your right, but Jon was not having that.

Grabbing your arm with a yank, he pulled you back to him and around before what looked to be a violent shove towards you against the wall and held you to it. Crowding you he spoke lowly and was too close for Sansa to even guess what your reaction was but she felt that shiver of uncomfortable the moment Jon had snapped and kissed you aggressively, grasping at your sides forcing you to not try and move away from him, and that was when she turned to leave.

Her father and mother were never that way with each other, she had never seen a man be so aggressive with a woman in a manner that way, and it looked nothing but wrong in her eyes. She had wanted to talk to you about these very thoughts, but only served to allow herself to watch a scene she did not understand and let it fester her down further into a poison she hardly could tell she was to drown in.

Turning the time back to the same instance, it was Jon which you saw a usual weight on his shoulders as at first it was as if he hadn’t even seen you. In a gentle teasing you spoke only enough to try and catch his attention without startle but the words were far more daring then you intended. “A young, pretty maiden his Grace is off to sneak around with tonight?”

Jon had turned just in time to catch your teasing tilt of head with a mock knowing glance as if in on a ludicrously false secret. Mumbling your name, you could hear the attempt to hide a smirk begging to be painted across his handsome features, but you merely turned your head enough with a lightness decorating your tone as if sad and defeated.

“Perhaps I will have to find some other mans company to serve myself it seems.”

A large hand wrapped around your upper arm, almost gracefully spinning you around as it to fall into his arms as he with more of a gruff teasing in his tone as he did so. “Oh no, you’re not getting away with that one.” The moment your world ceased its sudden spin, it moved fast as Jon grabbed at both of your hands and yanked them up in the same motion which he pressed you harshly against the wall.

Hands tightening as best you could to interlock, his hair still pulled back from the day meaning not a thing was to hide the dark gaze in his eyes. Sudden his hips were pressed close as it to tease you that should you entice his cock enough, you wouldn’t yet even feel him this far apart, despite his hot breath dancing across your face. A gentle whisper innocent against the way his smirk slowly fell out of favour the more large and black his eyes became. “Was it something I said, my King?”

Exhaling roughly, you felt every bit of its warmth seep into your skin and shiver down your spine, but then the slight scent found it’s way to your senses as a much more amused but gentle smile came about instead. “Have you been drinking?”

Nudging your nose with his, running along almost as a nuzzle you felt his hands against yours lighten to something as they shifted. Attempting to interlock his fingers much more sweetly then before. “Not much. You try saying no to any man of House Wull when he’s trying to offer you your body weight in wine.” Your smile remained against your lips a light amusement now dancing in your heart at the sight in your mind.

Your reluctant King giving in with a sigh and grumble to the pressure, other rowdy Northerners ready to mock him for how little it was when he stopped. “Should I be worried that encouraging this behaviour right now is taking advantage of you?” If by the narrowing in his brows and dark painting across his eyes completely said anything, you knew you had teased more wolf then man.

Letting go of your hands, Jon grabbed at your hips with a possessive, tight hold you could feel bruising as you continued to stand there, your hands reaching up right away to press gently against his chest and by his shoulders. The rasp shivering down your spine further as he muttered, “Would you even know what to do with me on your own?”

Oh your lack of response only fuelled that animal within more you were too aware. Looking down what he could see of your form from here, his eyes had found themselves trapped looking to your chest, knowing how easily he could undo the precarious wrappings of your dress to his want. Nudging your nose again, leaning down enough to meet your eyes, Jons tone dropped as if his voice could vibrate deep into your person. “I hold any alcohol far better then you do, darling.” Waiting not even three seconds passed, his voice softened to something far more comforting and genuine. “I didn’t have have enough to feel anything.”

Your palms smoothing up and down the leather of the tunic across his chest your inhale was deep, brows furrowing before peeking back up to meet his eyes. “I didn’t mean you shouldn’t drink the amount you wanted, I only wanted to be sure that I wasn’t crossing any boundaries by-”

The smile on him was wide, a bright look with always struck deep in your heart as it was a beautiful smile attached to such an unfairly handsome man. “I said I’m alright, you haven’t done anything wrong, don’t worry so much.” Cutting off the moment you spoke it into the world, Jon’s tone dropped lower again. “Stop being sorry. Just let me enjoy you.”

Leaning up to try and meet his lips, from the very second your eyes fluttered closed did Jon take over for you. Pressing his lips to yours as his body fully pushed you into the wall. Rough at first and yet as he guided your lips, you felt that softness melt into your body, no matter how harsh Jon could treat you, there was nothing quite like the way he kissed you. Refusing to part no matter what, small kisses turned to longer more passionate ones as he held your hips rather tightly, almost more tightly then when he was speaking low and dark with scouring eyes.

Your palms sliding up to the soft skin of his neck and wrapping around to the back of it, sighing into his kiss as Jon wrapped his own arm more behind your back to pull you right up close into his front. Other hand reaching to your jaw, tilting you up at such an angle there was no escaping his lips, even though he kissed you slowly, gently, yet deeply and a need which bordered on a greed should you allow it.

Once, twice, Jon tried to pull back. A furrow in his brows despite none asking him to pull away bit himself, only to deepen the kiss by pulling your jaw up closer to him. Your lips tingling from the rough pressure and insistence he keep you to him, so did your lungs burn. Pressing your front more against him with a blatant need, it was a tell he was quite literally making you lightheaded. A sign for him to not yet pull away, not until you would whine in his kiss.

A strain in your chest at his ability to keep your lips so perfectly pressed to his, but Jon had lungs much better then yours. A need for him fighting with the lightheadedness he could gift you with both came to the same conclusion as your arms wrapped tighter around him. Only with a small nibble to your bottom lip did Jon slowly pull away. More then three times returning for a gentle kiss, always longer then a peck yet not quite deep and passionate to be chaste, almost as if he simply was as not ready as you to leave the feeling together.

Nudging your nose again, Jon reached up to grab the hands from behind his neck, sneaking another kiss in as he turned your palms up. Pulling up to press a gentle kiss to each, his thumbs smoothed over the soft skin only to find, they weren’t that. There was that jaggedness which he knew too well came from a carving of blades.

Pulling back, Jon held your hands between you both to look over. His face dropping to a worried yet stern looking concern, “What happened?” Your words caught in your throat, which had his eyes dashing up to meet your own ones full of a guilt. Tilting his head he murmured your name, “Tell me what happened.”

Biting your lip ever so slightly, your shoulders deflated. Head dropping to gaze the peak of Longclaw’s pommel rather then his actual eyes. “Not here.” Jon dropped one to tilt your chin back up to look his way, the sternness melting only to a tender concern mixed with the bleeding of grey eyes so suddenly urgent looking you over. That same hand sliding to run along the side of your head with a caress to your hair.

He pulled you forward only to press a kiss to your forehead, turning you gentle and into his side. Rasping with such a confusing mix of warmth yet darkening need in his tone, your own blood rushed as if not understanding the feeling either. “I wanted you to myself this evening, anyways.” His loving touch was rushed into your heart, and much more shamefully the rasp in his voice hot across your ear had your blood burn down to heat between your legs as if it was all you were for him.

Not that the most utterly depraved parts Jon pulled out into the open, would have a problem with submitting to him without any more question or care. A dangerous mix it was, his darkness fuelling your innocent but genuine want to give yourself to him and your innocence and raw want to be with him in such heavy trust made that dark, addicted, obsessed animal within grow even more lustful.

Yet came the switch, the changing from teasing to soft the moment you entered his chambers alone finally. Informing him that little Eddard was spending some time with your mother until he should need you, Jon nodded silently. Waiting for you to walk a step or two more into the room before wrapping both arms around your front. Pressing his chest into your back, one stayed wrapped across your stomach, the other shifting to hold much more gently at your hip.

His face soft but serious as it dropped over your shoulder to nudge the side of his head into yours as if a wolf in gentle need of affection. Your hands grasped his forearm, pushing the material of his sleeves up to run across and hold gently, the feeling as if he somehow pulled you tighter back into him. “When you tell me what happened, you need to be honest with me. I need the truth. All the truth.”

You nodded, but it was not enough. Turning back to meet his head more as if to press your forehead to his, your eyes closed despite his watching yours. Something akin to a childish worry found it’s way into the air. “I didn’t want to upset you, or make you mad.”

Reassuring as he rasped into your ear, you felt so warm surrounded by him no matter what cold existed where you two stood. “I know sometimes with me it’s hard, but I promise, I haven’t been angry with you since that night, and I never will again.” Neither of you needed the elaboration, the only night Jons ever yelled at you. It lived to haunt both of your memories as if the only stain on your love together, that horrible night. But Jon continued on, “I worry about you, but I’ll never be mad with you again. So stop worrying about that sort of thing.”

A kiss pressed to the side of your head, part of you wondered why that night even came across to his memory. You both had put it behind, despite the hurt haunting you both never in months had either of you spoken of it. The truth of its words were revisited, but not the anger which came from it. Odd as it was that night was at all on his mind, Jon turned you more into the room. Muttering in your hair to sit atop his desk so he could tend to your hands better. Only speaking again after you had said all of what happened.

“I never knew about this.”

Shaking your head, both your palms face up as one had just been finished. Jon thoroughly cleaning and wrapping it, having it rest carefully atop your thigh now using such gentle strength to clean the cuts in the other. Your murmur was as light as his touch it felt. “I’m the only one left who did. It happened so long ago and so much happened since then..I’m not sure why I saw this now.”

Nodding with a troubled look gracing his face, Jon had not yet looked up to your own eyes seeking his out for your own need of calm. Still low speaking he if not close would hardly be heard overtop the crackling of his fire burning on the other side of the room. “When you said this may get worse, I didn’t think it would start hurting you this way.” Your lack of response was taken up by a shrug which you suspected he barley saw from his focus. The frustration now dripping from his tongue, “Its starting to feel like our fault you have to deal with this.”

“Jon it isn’t your-”

Rising up with dark, sharp eyes silencing you without effort, Jon opened then closed his mouth before a deep sigh left his lips. Meeting your eyes softly before turning to grab at the wrappings to finally cover your other palm properly. “Bran seeing things like that, I could see you when we were apart and sharing dreams with you. You didn’t grow up this way. None of this happened to you until it happened to my family first. Whatever this all is, however it works, it feels like we gave it to you.” Arguing firmly he couldn’t possibly know that, Jon shook his head again no longer meeting your eyes. “I do know that. My family is different, and you know why, but yours isn’t.” Neither of you had addressed that yet, neither of you had any idea how to even comprehend it, and so Jon almost pushed right passed it back to the topic at hand. “Now two of us now have connections to these dreams and visions you’re having, and they’ve gotten worse since you’ve been around more of us. I don’t know what else could explain it. I barley understand any of this as it is.”

Tying the wrappings off, you spared no time in reaching up to again gently trace both hands around to the back of his neck. His hands happy to find your hips while your knees spread enough Jon could step closer between them. The soft fabric of your dress sliding up just enough Jon flickered his eyes down to the bunching material before focusing once more.

Opening your mouth to speak. Jons brows furrowed with a shake of his head. A quiet needed for whatever rattled in his mind while his hands slid from your hips down smoothing along your thighs, each rise up pulling more and more of the first of your dress with it. Occupying yourself, your fingertips reached up. Letting loose his curls, raking your nails through them to smooth them out as you scratched against his scalp.

Muttering your name, you hummed in answer but he still did not yet look to meet your eyes. Your own hands continued as if each run through the black locks both tensed his muscles and relaxed them within the same strand pulling. Yet the courage he found when he spoke was again, returning to the direction he had seemingly been considering out of nowhere. “Why have you never worried about being with me?”

Head jolting back a little, “What?”

One hand still flat against your thigh, the other hand trickling its way along the dress toying with the laces tied carefully to keep your front all wrapped together nicely, but not with a commitment to such a thing yet. His voice was low, the uncertainty on his face was somehow tenfold then before. “You’ve never cared that I’m a bastard. But I know you’re smart, you know what’s said about people like me. I know what people say and think about me.” Nodding slowly, he seemed to register it as if through his much more keen vision despite his gaze dropped so low on you. “You’ve never worried about any of it with me. Why?”

Slowly, your hands dropped from his hair back down along his shoulders, still somewhat dancing along his neck. You did not seek his gaze out, but spoke with eyes bright and soft towards him no matter what as if he could feel it. “I’ve never been given a reason to think such things are true, let alone about you.” Jaw clenching, and his hand on your thigh now forming more of a fist gathering the material of your dress much faster but not moving beyond. “You’ve always been a good man, Jon. You’re not lying, deceitful, you’ve never simply used me for your sake and tossed me aside, no matter how much I’ve told you to.” Almost a chuckle you got, your smile growing wider on your lips. “Coming back the way you did had made parts of you more intense, maybe even whatever this strange connection with dreams is, is because of that. But none of those things are your fault, you have no control over the broken ways we’ve come back.”

Not at all did you see coming the next thought which skipped around to prominence in Jons head. “No one ever had to be worried about you when it was Robb you were married to.” Finally a peek up the wide grey eyes meeting with your face twisting in something of a blend of incredulity and almost insult on his behalf. Asking with barley a breath what that meant, Jons hand toying with the laces of your dress managed to slightly pull one loose before skipping up to cup your cheek. Angling you to meet his gaze better only for those wide eyes to drag themselves back down and up your figure. As if he could not make up his mind of what he felt. “No one ever worried you weren’t safe with him, worried he was mistreating you, worried he was using you. No one ever looked at you both and thought he was only with you to get you pregnant, as if having a child was all you were good for.”

You hadn’t even thought about it by the time you said it, such a notion sounded that ridiculous to you. “Jon, no thinks that about us. No one. These men out there, your people, they adore you-”

Eyes trained back down to the now looser fabric around your breasts knowing if he just let go of where he held you he could tear it off in a moment. Interrupting though, he said yet another thing you didn’t see coming. “People used to say those same things about Rhaegar Targaryean once.”

Now that had your eyes blown wide open, almost placing you into a shock as you stammered silently to find any form of words. “Jon, I- where in seven hells is any of this coming from?”

The hand on your cheek though, slid back as he both held firmly a fist full of your hair as he did your dress but also balanced the act with holding the back of your neck to not let you move away from how he pressed his forehead against you. “My father wasn’t possessive of his wife. My brother wasn’t like this, certainly not with you and I’ve met more then enough bastards at the Wall to know the way I feel about you isn’t normal amongst people like me. I know the way I treat you isn’t normal.” Only a gentle murmur tinted in soothing as your hands returned to gently raking through his curls that there is nothing wrong with the way he treats you, but Jon cut in with an edge almost as soon as you finished speaking. “My sister thinks so.”

Almost you had forgotten that only an hour previous did this same man have you against a wall of his home playful and laughing as you simply enjoyed teasing one another with your words. Though, in a truth you had no idea what he meant by that. Sansa you knew had a difficult time accepting Jons circumstances here but that was not by any fault of Jons doing. Certainly he didn’t mean Arya, considering twice now in the week since your return has she stumbled upon Jon having you pressed against something wrapped up in kissing you and commenting almost in an amusement that the brothel was outside the castle walls if you two wanted to put on a show.

Jon had suddenly pulled form your kiss with an angry yell asking why she knew anything about brothels. Arya only answering back that she was fifteen, not seven which did not make Jon feel any better, but such interactions were never seen as negative to her. You didn’t even know what Sansa would’ve seen to think so negatively about him this way.

Which you attempted to explain as such. “Thing are tense with her right now, I know. But you have to see that she would never think that way about you. She’s known you since she was born, she doesn’t even know-”

“That doesn’t mean she isn’t still looking at me like I’m..” He struggled to use any form of word as abuse even in a hypothetical regard about you, and yet he continued along this treacherous path in his mind. “Everything we’ve ever done it’s been me pushing for it. I kissed you without asking, I convinced you to let me touch you for the first time. I’m the one who desperately wanted to fuck you that visit, and I did without even thinking about anything else the moment you were back with me. I was trying to put a child in you from the first moment I ever slid inside of you. Every step of the way I’m the one whose ruined something about you.”

You felt something almost offended at the word. “Ruined? Jon none of that ruined me, we love each other, we loved each other back then. I wanted to do all those things with you.” As if he was trying to talk you out of something that wasn’t even debatable he shortly asked if you really did want them or if he had convinced you that you wanted them only after he wanted it first.

Had something come and hit him in the head? Only days ago you both had discussed something just like this, and neither of you came anywhere near close to a conclusion in this manner. His hand fisting the skirt of your dress had moved. Now actively pushing the material up your legs as his warm but calloused hands were rough against your bare skin slowly exposing, his eyes once more tore down your body as his voice rasped out deep and as conflicted as it was wanting. “The entire time I’ve known you, I’ve obsessed about keeping you all to myself. And you don’t think that isn’t anything like what he did to my mother?”

Baffled, that was what you felt. Something had clicked within his mind and now the obsession was nothing more then a heartbreaking stream of self loathing to things not even his fault. Hands trying to caress the locks of his hair and nails against his scalp almost trying to distract him as much as your soft voice meant to calm him. “You and I love each other Jon, and we always have. There’s nothing even minimally comparable. You are not him. You never have been, and I don’t know whats given you the fear otherwise but I am telling you it is not true.”

Sliver of hope shined as a much more genuine honesty managed to peek through the darkness brewing before you. “I still worry about it. I’m terrified I’ll wake up one day and turn into him.” About to interject that you know that won’t happen it felt as if maybe he had come back around to his initial bothering issue. “Sansa already is looking at me as if I mistreat you and that’s only because she sees me as a bastard. If she knew the truth-” Attempting to talk him down saying that she doesn’t, Jon shook his head as much as he could pressed against you this way. “If she did, I know she’d be doing anything to keep me as far away from you as she could.”

You still didn’t understand where any of this had come from. It felt out of nowhere, but whatever he had been seeing as distrust in his sister about you, he had let it fester and spiral to an unstable degree over the past few days. So you did the only thing you could be as honest back to him as he was to you, but your softness contrasted the tight grip he had taken of your inner thigh.

As much as you could, running a hand through his hair while the other cupped his cheek, letting your thumb run back and forth. “Look at me.” Tied between his own want and need, you had only moments to decide which was stronger and it was still the brightness shining through the greys doing so. “You didn’t let me spiral, so I won’t allow you to. You’re with me, despite how difficult I make every step of your life.” The gentle way you said it finally peeked a huff of a smirk through on him. “And I’ll always be here, happy with you. No matter what that means.”

Both hands on you softened, Jon slipping his lower from your legs and finding your hip, while the other now raked much more gently through your hair, coming back to you as quick as flipping a coin. “Do you want the truth?” A nod of yes and his eyes shined brighter. “I’m struggling to get used to this again. Not having you to myself every hour of the day. I miss you, and it’s making me angry because I can’t do anything about it.”

You knew he was serious, and perhaps it was why you took the route you did. Leaning forward, you gently traced the length of his nose with yours until he nudged you back, returning the gesture over. “I’m yours, Jon. Your wife, your Queen and I trust you, with everything I trust you. You can have me, whenever you need me. In whatever way you want.”

Oh the growing grin on his face filled your heart far more to replace the sorrow. “I want you for more then just that, darling.”

Your grin matched, as he wrapped an arm around your back. “I know, I said whatever way you need me and I meant it. Just tell me before being apart too long starts to bother you to the point it leads to this.” Needing to gesture nowhere, both knowing the relaxing of his muscles had finally sunk in.

Only quiet sat between you for a while. Quite a while, only enjoying the others presence before he spoke up, life not tensity filling his rasp for the better. “I know you’ll have the with you baby by then, but I have a meeting later tonight, and I’m tired of going to so many without you.” An easy comment that you’d be honoured, and Jon grinned before leaning back in but to capture your lips.

His kiss was slow and gentle, deep but without urgency as you followed his lips until no more breath was found in your lungs, and still he kept you there for more.

Jon was so much more collected so much more often, that perhaps you knew you had faulted in being there for him. Forgetting that he had as much pain in his heart and soul as you did. Knowing you needed to do better, needed to be there for him when he doesn’t know how to say he needs you before it festers into whatever this was tonight. You hadn’t realized his thoughts had strayed into that much concern of themselves, but true or not that didn’t matter. Not to you.

It wasn’t until Jon implored you both to lay down for just a little while, just to keep you to himself a little more did either of you feel better. Both on your sides as his hand ran firmly along your hip, yours swapping between tracing his facial hair to toying with his curls. Did you and he broach the subject once more, but with far more clam.

Your voice came out just as soft yet more reassuring then his own much earlier. “You know more then anyone else, we cannot jump into handling this without everything right in front of us. All of us. Only having half of the story is whats led him each and every time to harm your family. And he so far had managed to talk Sansa out of putting the blame on him, but this time the only way to convince her otherwise is to lay out the full truth.” Asking if you were sure, considering she had found excuses for every other one. “I’m sure. I know Sansa, and somewhere she’s still in there. He’s never come close to admitting he’s tried to have me killed, because he knows not even he has her manipulated enough to forgive this. We show her the truth, and she’ll come around.”

Sighing deeply, Jon ran his hands up and down your hips refusing to allow the frustration return over his shoulders. “Is this how you felt living in Kings Landing? Having to spend every single day plotting around everyone you know all day long?” Your eyebrow raised in a knowing with a single nod, and with another much more exasperated sigh did Jon drop his head into your neck with a muffled rasp. “I knew I never liked you going back there.”

The tone was gentle, and the words attached were amused. “Why do you think I was always so excited to come back here?”

Raising his head you saw the hint of a smirk attempting to be covered up. Bracing yourself on the inside, knowing a numerous, nearly endless list of clever yet teasing words could come slipping from his mouth, and sure enough he did not disappoint. “Of course you were. Who else was willing to put up with you the way I do everyday.”

As if you had anywhere to escape his grasp, you playfully tried to pull away only for his stronger self to yank you back as a breathy laugh let loose, followed by a deep chuckle from Jon with bright eyes to watch as he looked at you, a hand slipping up to run through the strands of your hair loose in front of you. Only a murmur in response you had. “Truly though, I know this is complicated. It always has been with Littlefinger is involved and now that it’s right in front of us refusing to go away, we need to deal with this as soon and clean as possible. Whatever ire he’s held for your father and uncle half of his life, he isn’t hesitating this time to take it out on the rest of you in any way he can, including using me and Sansa to do so. And if we don’t deal with this now-”

Cutting you off with a seriousness, a darkening in his eye you knew Jon could sense where you were headed. “He’ll do more then hire men to try and have you killed for him thousands of miles away.”

“The closer Aegon gets to taking the Iron Throne, the more Littlefinger knows his influence there is dead. Lord Varys knowing the man he is and what he’s already done will never let him get anywhere near Aegon. His own grip on the Vale is tenuous the older Robin gets, soon all he’ll have left as a tool is to use Sansa against us. He knows now if he loses her he loses the North, and everything he’s spent decades lying and killing to get will disappear.” It was the only option which made any sense, he was losing his carefully crafted control and soon it will all be gone.

Jon was firm though. “So we find a way to stop him before he catches wind, and flees with my sister with him.”

Littlefinger had risked coming to the North, because he was getting desperate. If he could use the North through Sansa, he had a very large, very tough Kingdom in his pocket. Either you all dealt with this now, or you never would again. But it had to be careful, if he flees now he will take Sansa with him and the Starks had only just all come back together. Losing her now would likely to be losing her for good.

But Littlefinger wasn’t the only one who knew her, and how to appeal to certain sides of her. She was nearing a woman now, but when you had last seen her she was still only a girl, a girl whom you knew just how to reach out too. How much any of it was working you couldn’t tell, but you couldn’t stop trying now.

The first attempt had been all without words. Sansa had retired to her chambers on your second night back, and right away she had spotted it. Sat purposely on her bed a brown fabric wrapped at each end with strings keeping its insides a secret, and a small note sat atop it waiting. She hadn’t even recognized the writing at first. The note saying that whatever the bags contents was, was not the same one but as close as could be. Pulling one end then the other, the feeling was almost too much at first sight.

Inside lay a doll. A fine made doll, with skin drafted from a white porcelain. The hair long down the back of her head a yellowish gold colour, and her clothes a long dusty pink dress. A blue short sleeved overcoat atop it with a trim which closely matched her hair.

“Don’t you like it?”

She did. She did then and she had hated herself for not saying it when she had the chance. Slowly Sansa had picked the doll up, running along her hair at the back as something built up within her chest and choked at her throat. It had looked the same. Almost as identical as it could’ve possibly been. When Sansa had married Tyrion Lannister, some of her only things sat within a chest in his chambers not to disrupt where he already lived. The day Ser Dontos helped her run from the scene she had nothing on her but the clothes she wore. The doll had been left behind because she could not go back for it.

Sansa had long since imaged that doll, and the rest of her things had been destroyed, burned, whatever Cersei saw fit as appropriate in her anger. It was the only thing of her father she had besides the images in her head of his end, and she had to leave it behind. But here a new one sat, just like the one he tried reaching out to her with.

Right away there was no question who wrote the note. Only one other person then her and her father were there and it was you. Sansa had not said anything, but that night when she had left it on the table, her pretending to be asleep you had quietly snuck into her chambers and placed the doll on top of her cabinet. You knew what it looked like, and what to tell the doll maker here to do specifically.

The doll had once been all she had let of her father, and you went out of your way to have it made again for her and did not even rub in that you did it. You wanted her to have a reminder of who she really was. Unable to sleep, she had taken it with her. Walking the snowy courtyard of Winterfell when she had spotted you.

Exhausted and almost as if you looked upset did you make your way to the crypts in the dead of night. Not a clue what she was going to say, she moved almost on an instinct. Hiding away by the glass gardens to watch for when you returned. First noticing Theon seemed to have followed you, and finally when both of you emerged you stood alone for a moment in the cold air. And she called your name then.

Perhaps that was why that same evening in the present did she sit in her chambers, reading and rereading the notes she scribbled out. It still did not make sense. She knew you, and while not the same she too knew her brother. Why was she so convinced of this?

Why did she watch her brothers aggression with you, the way he was so forward with his lust thinking he had you alone. It was not a dynamic of man and woman she had seen before. Not even compared to the insufferable sounds of Petyr and her Aunt Lysa’s bedding together when they married. That was almost torture trying to sleep to the sound of, but never did she think of it in such ill light.

But again, it was too Petyr who had told her it over and over. Both when she had to masquerade as one, and now here too. Telling her not to trust Jon, that he was a bastard. That Petyr had taught Sansa all about what bastards were like and she should not be fooled into thinking her actual bastard brother would be any different, only he would be real where her image had been false.

You were confused when she tried to bring up your marriage, or asking if you love him, not grasping why she’d ask the questions she did. You never seemed unhappy at Jons side and his men all looked to you with the same respect he got. When she had told Petyr of the way her brother was with you physically, he had assured her she was on the right track. Using sex to lure you to him more and more. The more devoted his highborn Queen was to him, the more children he would give her, and the harder it would be to dismantle his claim against Sansa. Who was young, with no children and married to a Lannister no matter how distant they were in extremes.

Petyr had told her what she thought was the truth. Jon was using you to stay in power. The same way Renly Baratheon had married Margaery Tyrell, knowing putting a baby in her belly would be the fastest way to be unable to tear them apart. She had wanted to talk to you about her confusion.

Petyr always spoke to her as a lesson when she was confused, but you spoke to her like a sister. But she had spotted an encounter she was not used too, and should not have been watching in the first place and tricked herself into sending Jon further down the path in her head as manipulative. There was no one else she knew who to talk too. She knew little about mens physical relationships with women, and no one to talk to which would not see her confusion as trying to sway opinions against Jon.

Thats what she was supposed to be doing now, but everytime she would look to her desk again and see the doll you had remade for her, she’d feel that confusion and guilt. Sometimes she still did not know what girl came here.

Alyane Stone or Sansa Stark, she was not always sure who she was anymore.

The only other strange incident that day, had taken place many hours in the early afternoon light. It too, had happened without either of you realizing it was going to. Bran had been out in the godswood by the heart tree, your figure following not so long after as he sat in the calmness of the snow covered fauna around him in a quiet, but his eyes were trained up on the tree itself with unblinking eyes difficult to read. Though he needn’t not look to notice you had arrived, not even look at Summer’s watchful eyes to determine it either.

He jumped right into something neither of you had really tackled quite yet. “What was the first vision you had?” Head turning to look at your brows narrowing as you closed the gap, he elaborated with a more clear version of his words. “Not just strange dreams, or glimpses of something. The first serious one you had since coming back?”

You wished you could not recall it, you could still hear her screams fade into nothing and the black charred bones of which all that remained. Even worse, now you had a name to their faces. All of them, and speaking them outloud felt no amount of comforting. “I was in a field, somewhere across the Narrow Sea. A little girl, Hazzea...I watched as a black scaled dragon rose up from a cliff and scorched her so much her father only had her bones left.” You paused, but Bran did not change his expression almost as if waiting for an answer he already knew. Your head dropping it’s gaze down to a spot of nowhere in the snow as something troubled blocked the clarity in your throat. “Then it felt as if I was in the mind of her father. Presenting his daughters black bones to Daenerys Targaryean, as she told him he could bury her in the Temple of Graces and be given a vast payment...only if he kept secret it was her dragon which murdered his little girl.”

Still further Bran stayed in silence, now you know we was waiting for the end of a story he already knew. So you continued, keeping to the facts as if to push through the feeling coursing through your veins that you wished you could’ve killed the Targaryean Queen then and there for what she allowed her dragons to do. “The guards pulled him away, but..it felt as if part of me, not the father but me was screaming at her..and almost like the guards pulled the father but someone was in the vision with me trying to pull me out. When I did, I was on the deck of the ship. I had no idea what had happened, like I forgot that was my actual reality and not wherever this was.”

Quick on the draw Bran asked but one question, “Do you remember who they were? The person trying to pull you out of the vision?”

First shaking your head, you came close further to sit on the stone next to where Bran was sat himself, eyes still not quite looking at anything but your face a clear indication that you did not quite follow his path yet. “No. I saw them more then once, but it was as if I knew who they were then but the moment I came to the real world, I couldn’t envision them or hear their voice anymore. The words were there but not whom spoke them. Then they stopped showing up all together.” Asking when, you hesitated. You’d have to say his name, but there was not a shred of ability to hide from it anymore. “I don’t remember exactly the last, but the first dream I ever saw Euron Greyjoy, that’s when that person disappeared. And the crow and the raven showed up.”

You were vauge, not knowing what you should or even could possibly explain. As Bran too sat in thought with the same dilemma. Quiet for a moment when he finally came to a conclusion. “It started after I woke up from my fall. The dreams, the warging, the three eyed crow..I didn’t understand what any of it meant. I’m not even sure I do now.”

Your voice was thin, held back to a degree you both could pick up on. “In these dreams, did you ever see a raven with red feathers?”

The no was quick, but what as not quick, was the understanding to come to with how Bran said it next. “I never saw him then, because he was still the three eyed crow when I first saw him in my dreams. I didn’t even know he was human until I got there. To the-”

“The great Weirwood far beyond the Wall.” Both knew you had never been there, but you had been forced there in these visions. All concepts far beyond your understanding. Though you were not yet sure what relevance it would play revealing you knew exactly who he was yet. What that meant to Bran or you. “Is that why you went out there? To find him?” Nodding, you could feel the weight of loss which came with such a journey, one you knew was not known how to be discussed let alone when pressed on it. So you let it sit in the air for now. “What did he want with you?”

Bran spoke with a distant lowness, far away as he looked to you and away as if unable to choose one focus beyond his memory. “He told me, he was going to give back what was taken from me. That he was going to teach me how to fly.” Your brows narrowed in a question, but nevertheless stayed quiet. “Taught me, or was trying to teach me how to be him. That I had to learn to do as he did, to be the three eyed crow.”

Eyes drifting to somewhat meet his to your side, words chosen with careful consideration. “You were the boy, and you were the crow.” Bran nodded yes to both, holding back a lot of what looked like guilt. “He trained you to become him, which is why he would appear like a raven, because the crow would be you.”

To tell yourself any of this from six or seven years ago, and you would think your future self had simply gone utterly mad. Beyond what this already had you feeling.

“So how exactly do I come into any of this?”

That had an answer Bran gave immediately, but only made you feel once more as if a headache was to begin hammering away in your mind. “It was an accident. I was..I wanted to know what I could do. So I kept trying things he never taught me, things he warned against. But I just wanted to know. Somehow I can connect to people’s minds, see their memories or dreams. Jon was the only one who I knew was alive out there, so I tried to reach out to him. But when I tried to do that, I would always end up at you. Like any way I tried to see Jon, I’d see both of you and then eventually I only kept seeing you. I didn’t know what I had done until..a lot later. That I had-”

The way Howland Reed had spoken to what his son endured, you could put the connections together with a relative ease at this point. “The three eyed crow gifts people the sight, and you gave it to me.” Bran nodded again, while it was an answer, was it really? Did you grasp any of this? You felt as if you didn’t, but you also held much in your mind that neither you nor Jon yet spoke to a soul. Bran was not alone in withholding incomprehensibly complex information of powers beyond believing.

Slow your voice piped up, attempting to bridge more questions with answers but not wishing to give the impression the blame was his. “When this first started, I used to see through others eyes. Forget myself and who I was, and live their lives out without knowing. Is that normal?” A short and quiet no, you knew the guild had already seeped into the boy. “You did that?”

Bran made no attempt to look you in the eye. “I didn’t know- he never said I could do that..he never mentioned anything like that at all until I started doing it with you. I would see something, some memory and I think I accidentally would force you with me. Put you into someones eyes without realizing what that meant for you.” Asking how did he stop it, Bran almost looked a hint of amused in his eyes looking back up to the snow around you both. “I didn’t.”

Your head tilted at him, looking with a flat expression needing him to elaborate seriously, and only then did the small laugh of the boy Bran still was peek through.

“I swear on all the gods, I didn’t. You did that yourself.” Arguing you didn’t know anything about controlling that, Bran shrugged a shoulder. “Sometimes we learn to do things we don’t mean to, or without realizing.”

Silent for a moment, you broached the topic that needed addressing. “What happened today, that was you. Trying to see if you could still do it, put me in a memory.”

“Sometimes seeing something in there is easier when I do it through someone else. Like I don’t know how to do it all on my own, but I can if I’m forcing someone else into a memory and watch that way. It’s difficult to explain..but I wanted to see if I could do it here. If the heart tree here was enough.”

Glancing down to your hands, slowly pulling them off in the cold you could only ask. “Lord Howland told me that this ability I have took a toll on his sons health. Everything I’ve seen or dreamt, I passed out once but nothing worse then that. Until this.”

Your hands not yet wrapped at that point hours earlier, but the remnants of blood still visible on your palms. “Maybe it’s different for everyone. Maybe for you, your reactions are physical instead of making you sick. I can’t always control what I’m seeing, so I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

Your head snapped back up to Bran from putting your gloves back on in the cold. “You didn’t mean to see that night?” Affirming he didn’t, you suddenly asked with much more insistence, “Why that memory then? Why would you see that if you didn’t choose too? We never even told you about that night, you wouldn’t have known it happened until today..”

Were Bran still the poor boy confused and not understanding of the events surrounding his family he may have been upset they never told him about that night, but now he did. Just not why the Sight deemed it important now of all times. Many conflicts were bombarding the Starks but that night nor the Lannisters were one of them.

Looking to the other, you and Bran both had the feeling that this power was not done. Reuniting Bran with his family, or his power to yours, that did not seem to be the final interference this power held over you two. As if there was one more missing piece of the puzzle which had not previously been laid at your feet since the harrowing months leading to Ned Stark’s murder.

Winter on one side and Littlefinger on the other, why was that night the thing the Sight demanded you both experience?

It was nothing if not a stoke of luck you had been alone when it happened looking back to it just an hour prior to meeting Bran in the godswood. At one point having just put the baby down to rest, the next you were not you. Nor were you in this room, nor even anywhere near the year present.

Catelyn Stark was sat at the bedside of her ten year old son, still unconscious from his fall and still she had hardly found it in herself to leave his side. Her husband and daughters nearly on the other side of the country after something like this and she found no resolve in her to handle it but put such focus into taking care of Bran. But that night it seemed she was not the only one considering the degree which she was not handling things right.

Interrupting a rather unproductive talk with Maester Luwin, Robb had moved to open the shutters to let the air in. The howling of wolves heard in the night air. Hand gripping the edge of one shutter, she could hear the tone held back in her son as he questioned her without even making eye contact. “When was the last time you left this room?”

Back and forth they argued about it. Robb imploring that Luwin had ensured Bran was not going to die, and Catelyn fighting back that they couldn’t be sure. “Bran needs me.”

Robb however, let that frustration and stress sit right in his tone as he became the one scolding his mother as if she now were the child, and she felt the guilt of his words sink into her heart right away. “Rickon needs you. He’s six. He doesn’t know what’s happening, he follows me around all day clutching my leg, crying.” Catelyn as if unable to let her guilt stop, she almost let it lash out at something that didn’t matter, telling him to close the window as the wolves howled louder and more insistent. Robbs next words however, snapped her from it. “Fire.”

The men down outside had begun ringing the bell as the sounds of fire crackled in the distance, Robb running from the room with an urgency. Standing up, Catelyn sat down her work making her way to the window. Indeed a fire had started by the library, but strange as it was that it was not natural. Not a place it could start by accident, but she could not comprehend why she’d think that.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Turning in an instant, Catelyn was startled into silence. A tall but lanky man dressed in drab black clothes and a hood stood before her with a very eeiry calm, a man she knew she did not know. “No one’s supposed to be here. It’s a mercy.” Looking towards Bran in his bed, did Catelyn realize what was about to happen. “He’s dead already.”

Pulling a blade out from his side, Catelyn shouted “No-” Without a hesitation to go right for him.

The man was much stronger then he looked, slapping her roughly across the face before she felt that feeling in her veins. A strong overpowering feeling of anger and a protective desperation. Leaping back to stop him, she did not hesitate to do whatever she needed keeping this man from Bran. Trying to move her off of him, Catelyn ended up with her back against his front as she used the momentum to try and slam him into the wooden cabinet behind multiple times as he begun to bring the blade up up to her neck.

Each second she had held tightly to the blade, sharp and the sting and tearing at her palms already soaking her in her own blood but never once did she falter on her grip. The man was strong at his blade and she knew if it slit across her throat as it did her hands it was over for Bran. Instead taking him off guard she let her teeth sink deeply into his hand to the point of pain he begun to yell.

Twisting her off, he grabbed her and slammed her head roughly into the edge of a chest as the dizzy and disorienting feeling hazed her mind as she was now on the ground. Looking up to see him heaving to gather himself he turned right back to Bran. Only he got no further.

From beyond the room did Brans direwolf leap forward beside Catelyn and slamming the man into the ground. The yelling of pain erupted from him turning into a garbled mess as Summer incapacitated the man before using his sharp teeth to tear out his throat.

The man dead and bleeding on the floor of her sons room, Catelyn perched her elbows up on the chest as the sting in her bleeding palms begun to sink in. Summer jumped up onto the bed with Bran, checking himself that he was alright before settling onto the fur. Facing Catelyn and blood now staining both of them did the wolf give a small whine as they both looked at one another.

Little could Catelyn have known what that night would eventually lead her into, but as you were once more in Jons chambers, your position almost seemed to match where Catelyn had been. On the ground as if thrown there in a fight, and yet without having been in one truly, you looked with a shaking breath to your hands.

Just as Catelyns had been, slices were clear against your palms bleeding like you were the one gripping the dagger yourself.

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Nanami frantically digging through Shoko’s pamphlets and googling “how to give the ward you just met a sex talk” after the last chapter, this poor man needs a Xanax and a 12 hour nap SO badly right now 😂😂

fantastic chapter btw!! I love love love maki and am fully prepared to be terrorized by her plan—terror for her having to deal with the Zenin and terrorized because that girl is batshit insane and can do anything she sets her mind to ❤️

(I have a sneaking suspicion that her plan involves that mysterious “Okkotsu Yuuta as the world’s most unenthusiastic honeypot” tag, and OH BOY OH BOY am I on tenterhooks to see what insanity (positive) Maki comes up with)

Hope you have a great day!!

Nanami, frantically rushing to r/Parenting for this fucking hurdle of fatherhood:

I (27M) may have discovered my newly adopted son (16M) is in a relationship of indeterminate and possibly intimate nature with his three (15F, 15M, 15M) friends. I need emergency advice.

I only met/took in my eldest a few days ago. Those days have been extremely trying, and have unfortunately placed a very stressful burden on my son. I have tried to support him in any way I can; however, the young character of our relationship makes me fear overstepping his boundaries. I do not want to rush anything which may damage any trust he may form in me in the long run.

As a result, I do not believe having “The Talk” with him would be appropriate at this juncture. However, I fear it may be necessary.

I recently approached him while he was visiting with his close friends in a private room. I knocked (from what I believed to be a respectful distance designed to preserve his privacy) and heard a series of… disconcerting noises. His friend (15M) then proceeded to claim that he could not open the door because they were indecent. The door was quickly opened, and all parties were clothed, but this and other behaviors between the group make me wonder if they have something deeper than friendship between them.

His previous parents were neglectful, and the main influence he has had in recent months is… a rather sorry role model. I believe the assumption that he has not yet learned of safe sexual practices is appropriate. I want him to be comfortable with me before we speak of such matters, but I also want him to be safe in the present.

A complicating factor is that one of his friends (15M) rather frequently wears a hyper realistic panda costume. I bear absolutely no judgment or prejudice against any of his potential partners and support him in his relationship. However, I do not actually know the specifics that should be covered in a talk given the particularities of these partners.

Another complicating factor is that one of his friends (15F) would have been better off being raised by wolves than the sorry excuses of humanity that raised her. While I fear that I may overstep boundaries by speaking with my new ward about such topics so soon, I would most certainly overstep boundaries by broaching the matter with her. At the same time, I cannot deny my suspicions that such a conversation would be desperately needed. How should I proceed?

The fucking comments:

what is wrong with you and your life

there is no way you are a real person

ThatOneGuyinthePandaCostumeTokyo.com is this them

your kid is a furry

Nothing in Nanami’s years of teen parenting prepared him for that moment. The man discovered types of panic he did not know existed. POV you’ve known this boy for three days max and you’re the person Responsible For His Wellbeing and mid crisis you have to figure out 1) if it’s too soon in your relationship to give him the safe sex talk 2) if you can even avoid the safe sex talk if what seems to be happening is happening 3) would it even be appropriate to give the safe sex talk to the people he would be potentially having sex with and 4) is he a furry.

Nanami was not prepared to be confronted with this particular challenge of parenting. Especially because Megumi gave Tsumiki the puberty talk, no one’s been brave enough to give her the sex talk, and the entire teen parenting group has Megumi as too Baby in their minds to have even contemplated giving him any talks.

You have NO IDEA how excited I am for that tag.

Thank you for your kind words! I’m glad you liked it!

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 9 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: A pack of wolves descend on the camp when you and Arthur are least prepared for it.

Author’s Notes: Chapter nine of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Nine: Warm Embrace

Word count: 4341

You awoke to the sound of a man’s voice. A yell. Then a horse’s screaming terror. Before you could pick up on anything else, you were on your feet.

You made to grab your rifle, but instead, a sidearm lay at your feet. Arthur’s revolver. You would wring that man’s neck. As soon as you had the thought, you heard a noise that sent cold fear sliding down your spine and made you lurch for the gun anyway—a snarl. That was no man-made sound.

You burst out of the tent and nearly fell backward in retreat. There were six wolves closing in on Arthur and the horses, the two mounts squealing and trying desperately to pull loose. Arthur stood firm with nothing but a knife. Nothing but a goddamn knife, because the fool had given you his gun. You couldn’t do a thing beyond stand there, absolutely stunned. He was going to die.

“Stay back!” Arthur yelled at them, but it was useless. The animals knew they had the advantage and crept forward still. Before you could think to shoot, the one closest to the horses bound forward, causing your horse to swing around and kick out. Another wolf joined the first, jumping high enough to sink teeth and claws into the animal’s rump. You had to fight the urge to cover your ears from the resulting sound that came out of that horse. Pure agony.

“Throw me the gun!” You met Arthur’s eye, and the second it took for him to spot you cost him whatever had been holding the other wolves at bay. The nearest leapt, and Arthur went down. You couldn’t pull the gun up fast enough, like the seriousness of the shot was slowing you. You sent up a prayer that you wouldn’t hit Arthur and shot into the mass of fur and teeth that stood atop him, all while he stabbed at its throat, trying his best not to have his own torn out.

You missed them both.

Another wolf joined the first, going for Arthur’s leg, but he kicked out hard enough that it whined in pain and retreated a step. The last two wolves joined in on the horses who were putting up much more of a fight, but you couldn’t care about that, couldn’t take in the terrible noise of violence and death that resulted. Not when there were two on top of the man who was your only chance at survival.

“Shoot them!” he yelled, the sound muffled from under the massive animal.

You brought the hammer down and shot again, aiming as best you could. You missed the closer wolf but hit the other this time, right on the shoulder. It yelped and turned, biting at the pain under its skin. Arthur thrust his knife up and gutted the wolf atop him in nearly the same moment, and you knew without having to know he had killed it. He was throwing the wolf off of him and yelling in less than a heartbeat. “Give me the goddamn gun!”

You did as he said, tossing it to him as he rose, retreating father against the tent at your back. You had to cover your ears, couldn’t look at what the other wolves were doing to the horses. Not with those horrible sounds coming from them.

Arthur immediately turned and shot the wolf you had in the head, then shot the one he had stabbed for good measure before reloading quick as lightning. He rounded on the other four. Alone.

You stepped backward into the tent. Cowardly. Covering your ears, closing your eyes, knowing he would get himself killed. He would die, and the horses would suffer, and you would get eaten alive. What was worse? Would you rather have died before, falling into nothingness? When the first shots began ringing out, you had your answer: absolutely. Because then you wouldn’t have to bear the pain of losing not two people that meant the most to you, but three.

More shots rang out until you were sure it was six, the revolver not having capacity for more. Then there was nothing but silence, and you started sobbing, knowing what came next. They would find you in here. They would maul you like they had him. Maybe they wouldn’t if you surrendered to them. Did animals recognize submission? Mercy?

The tent flaps rustled and you braced yourself for death until you felt arms folding around you, warm and gentle. Your sobbing turned to broken heaving as you took in the only scent you ever wanted to smell again.

“Shh, it’s okay. They’re gone. I got ‘em.”

You could do nothing but cry into his chest. You should have lost him. Should have died.

You moved your hands until they were grabbing at his coat, pulling him closer, needing to feel the life beating through him.

“I got you,” he said softly. “I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you.”

You pressed your forehead against his chest, his warmth the only tether you had to sanity.

“We’ll be all right,” he said, rubbing a hand up and down your arm to get warmth back in you. Or maybe life back in you. “My horse got away. We’ll be okay.”

That broke through your shock like a slap. You pushed back and looked at him. “And mine?”

He hesitated then shook his head. Dead then. The horse that had carried you miles and miles. The stubborn thing that you hadn’t given much thought to, all because you were too worried about what you had already lost. Just like Arthur. You couldn’t take that. You pushed Arthur back and got up.

“I wouldn’t go out there,” he warned. “Ain’t too pretty.”

You disregarded him and wiped your tears on your coat sleeve so you could see, stepping outside. They continued to well up anyway, your vision blurred and stinging as you took in two dead wolves. Then you turned and saw a sight so grizzly as to make you nearly lose what little you had in your stomach.

Four dead wolves, one dead horse. If it could be called that. It wasn’t so much something that had just been living as it was pure carnage. You were suddenly glad for your blurred vision. Seeing it clearly would have broken you.

You looked away and stepped back, needing a moment. Arthur was just behind you, and you felt the urge to cry into his chest like a child again but fought it off.

“Can you…” You sniffled, letting out a strangled breath. “Can you cut his tail? Bring me his hair?” God knew you couldn’t do it.

“Sure,” Arthur said. He didn’t hesitate, walking over like the scene before him was something he saw every day. Maybe it was.

If he thought the request odd, he didn’t say anything. It was something your parents had taught you. The good horses had their tails cut, their hair saved and braided and used so there was always a piece of them left behind. You felt guilt swallow you over not doing the same for your own two horses back at that cliff, but you had other things to grieve then. This horse had likely saved your life. You had escaped death a second time. And all you could do for it was trudge back into the tent and cry until you didn’t have any tears left.

~

Goddamn wolves. Arthur was finally starting to see the woman who had existed before the death of her parents. But that woman was gone again. Holed up in a tent for the better part of an entire day. Apart from bringing you that horsehair, he didn’t have the heart to go in and talk to you. He didn’t know what to say. And, lest he forget, it had been his fault you hadn’t had your rifle and he hadn’t had his revolver. You could have taken those animals on together no problem if you had.

Arthur spent the early hours of the morning finding his horse and cleaning up. He dragged the wolves off and skinned the ones worth skinning, taking meat from one. He looked over the damage done to his bedroll and knew there was no fixing the thing—the wolf had shredded it in an attempt to shred him. He tossed that away too. The dead horse was too heavy for him to move. He didn’t have any way to tie it to his own mount for her to drag it away either—it was torn into too many pieces. It would leave the place looking worse than it had been. So he left it, deciding when and if you ever reappeared, he would lead you straight south out of camp so the few trees could block your view of the damage.

He was now plagued with the thought that he had narrowly escaped death and that he had gotten too reckless in leading you. He knew how to survive on his own no problem, but you were distracting him. He had gone to sleep unarmed for christ sake. It was time for him to quit fooling around and do his job.

When Arthur ran out of things to do beyond keep watch, he checked himself over for wounds. His adrenaline wore off a long time ago, and he ached all over from the fight with that monster. He could be hurt anywhere and wouldn’t really know it. He was covered in blood from what he had managed with his knife, so he shed his coat first, seeing what damage it took. There was a gash in one of the arms, the fur along the inside showing. He looked to his arm and saw the resulting scratch cutting through his shirt, but it was shallow. Not warranting stitches. He looked and looked but didn’t find anything else. He was nearly untouched—a goddamn miracle.

He walked to his horse and gave her a few loving pats, glad she had gotten away. She was the best mount he’d had in a long time. He gave her a carrot and checked her over too. She must have gotten away before he had finished his own fight with the wolves. She was unharmed. He would never forget the sight of those four wolves eating the other horse alive though. On its back, on its legs, under its belly. Ruthless animals.

Arthur retrieved a cloth to clean his wound and coat with, pouring water over it. He shed the right half of his shirt from his arm, and the moment the damp cloth touched his skin, he winced. It was so cold he couldn’t feel the pain of the cut, just the frigidness of it. He could sense it now, how low the temperature was dropping. He just hoped the rain that would inevitably turn to snow would hold off.

He finished cleaning the shallow wound then redressed, deciding to stitch up the coat and his shirt later. It was too cold to be without them. He wiped the blood off his face best he could, doing the same to the front of his coat. Cleaning away all the evidence. The blood would just make him hard for you to look at. Well, harder. He weren’t exactly a pleasant sight to begin with.

Satisfied that things were as good as they would get, he went back over to your horse and took everything of value off it. The saddle was scratched to hell, and you wouldn’t be needing it anyway. Boadicea could carry you both. So he left that, digging through the saddle bags. There wasn’t much of anything beyond a few supplies and treats. You must have had that journal of your father’s on you. He did take your rifle out of its scabbard, knowing you could use his, but he was guilty enough over taking it. The least he could do was give you this one back.

He carried the rifle over to the pile of wood that had once been a fire and sat. There was nothing else to do. He could build another fire but didn’t want to leave you long enough to get more wood. All that was left was to wait. The two of you did need to get going soon. All that blood would draw unwanted attention from the local population. He just hoped there weren’t anymore wolves about. He would give you as long as he could, then he would pack up the tent, and the pair of you would move on. Putting all this behind you.

When the snow began again, Arthur cursed it. The weather had been delaying your travel every chance it got. He knew this wasn’t a good time of year to be going so far, but he had still hoped for better than this. The only positive that came of it was your attention, as you soon peeked out of the tent into the dim-lit evening to confirm it was snowing. And from his vantage, he saw that you had braided a piece of horsehair into your own, almost hidden under the shadow of your hat brim. Having your hat on meant you hadn’t been sleeping. Arthur felt the same guilt rise up within him. It was time.

“We better get going if you want to move camp.”

You just looked at him with that troubled expression, like your thoughts weren’t with him. Back to who you’d been before, unspeaking.

He stood, your gun and metaphorical hat in hand. “Listen I’m…sorry about the gun. I didn’t think-” That was it. He didn’t think. Why else did you keep guns at your sides at night other than to ward off trouble? And trouble had come, as deadly as it could have been. There were no more words for it, nothing that could fix what he’d done.

“Arthur?”

He looked at you, surprised to hear you speak. Surprised you had stepped out of the tent and weren’t building up that insurmountable wall within you he was all too familiar with.

“You ever do that again and I’ll shoot you. That’s a promise.”

He couldn’t help the smile that lifted the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t smile at me,” you quipped. “You aren’t forgiven.”

His smile only grew. He just knew you would retreat into that shell of yourself you’d been before. Not this. It made him giddy enough to put his foot in his mouth. “You will forgive me eventually though, right?”

“No shot,” you said, going back into the tent without taking your gun. That panicked him. This was a fine line you were walking between the person he had come to know and the one who was so overcome by grief. Exactly how angry were you?

“Wait, I…I mean it,” he said, making you stop at least. “I’m real sorry. That all this happened. That it’s my fault it did.”

You shook your head. “I don’t care about the wolves. They would have come anyway. But we could have taken them on easy if you hadn’t taken my gun. If anything, you owe my horse an apology.”

That cut him. The poor animal had fought a painful death and lost, suffered, because of him. He was just glad one of the two had gotten away, or the pair of you would have been soon to follow.

Arthur nodded, looking to the horsehair in your hair. He could never really make up for this, but he could at least keep his big mouth shut and keep from making it worse.

You went back inside the tent without a word. Arthur let you be and was surprised to see you come back out with bedroll in hand before starting on the tent. He wordlessly joined you in taking it down. It was the least he could do after all the drama that had begun with you hammering the stakes in.

After the two of you finished, he loaded up Boadicea and let you on her first. Then he mounted and went straight south as he had promised himself he would, avoiding any further thought of what you were leaving behind.

~

You and Arthur traveled through the snow for a long time. It wasn’t falling heavily enough to slow you down, so you rode right through it.

You missed your horse. Your backside ached, your back protesting all the same at the lack of a saddle. If you ever came across a town, you would get another one. You didn’t care if you had to steal it and the horse underneath it too.

At least one good thing had come of the tragedy those wolves had brought—Arthur was subdued. Whether from narrowly escaping with his life or regretting costing your mount his, you couldn’t tell. It was a harsh thought, but seeing him so reflective showed you a side of him you didn’t know existed, and you were glad it did. It certainly existed for you, and you didn’t want to be the only one grieving again. You didn’t want to feel like a child. The way you had broken down in front of him when you thought the wolves were coming for you was embarrassing enough, and you decided then you wouldn’t let that part of you resurface. You had come this far. You were healing. You weren’t letting those wolves take that away from you.

When it got dark enough and you ached enough for two, you broke the silence the snow brought. “Do you know if there’s a town anywhere near?”

You felt Arthur shrug against your hands on his sides, his coat rising and falling beneath your gloved fingers. “Can’t be sure. Usually there’s something this far down the trail. May not be a town, but something.”

That much was true. You could still see a trail to follow, so that was a good sign. The snow hadn’t covered it completely yet.

“Why?”

“Wonder if I can find another horse. Maybe a warm bed to sleep in for a few nights.”

“And here I thought you was a woman of the land,” he jeered.

You swatted him across the arm. He chuckled. “If there is one, we won’t find it tonight. I’d be able to see it from here.”

True again. The land was growing so flat that any settlement lit by lantern light would be bright as a beacon in the darkness.

“Let’s stop then,” you said, tired in more ways than one.

Arthur obliged you, and you were soon rebuilding the tent, tending a fire, eating a bite. Routine.

Arthur shed his coat and rolled up his sleeve, revealing a jagged line across his upper arm, no doubt from the claws of that wolf that had tackled him. You’d forgotten completely to ask if he had been injured.

“Where’d it get you?”

“Just here,” he said, tending to it.

Jealousy flared within you. You had a scar a mile long down your side from a fall. A fall, and Arthur had a full grown wolf try to eat him, and he only left with a scratch?

“How’s yours by the way?” he asked without looking up.

You had kept your side wrapped for about a week after the stitches came out, then had made sure it was clean but done little else. It was healing over now, all that was left a bit of tenderness and a scar that you would never rid yourself of, no matter how badly you spited the memory.

“Fine,” you answered flatly. Arthur’s eyes flicked to you then.

“I have you to thank, you know.”

Of course he did. But you weren’t going to rub it in.

“You hadn’t shot that other wolf and my leg would be dog meat.”

“Yeah, well. I wasn’t exactly aiming for that one but…”

“It don’t matter,” he said, rolling his sleeve back down, satisfied with the cut. He stood and donned his coat. “We’re alive, that’s all that matters. And I wouldn’t be without you.”

“You keep saying that,” you muttered, resentful.

“I mean it.”

“No, not that. You keep saying it doesn’t matter that I can’t shoot that gun. Well it does. It did. That was as close to dying as it gets, Arthur.”

He shook his head. “I’ll make sure your rifle’s close from now on, and you won’t ever have to shoot mine again. Don’t worry about it.”

That response was so typical of him you wanted to strangle him. He was so lax about life, so unconcerned. There was a such thing as learning from your mistakes, and it made you mad that he didn’t have to. Because he needed to.

“Forget it,” you spat, crossing your arms.

He smiled, and it only made you madder.

“I’m starting to think you like picking fights with me.”

“I don’t. You’re just easy to stay mad at.”

“Awe, you could never be mad at me, nameless.”

You flashed him a dark look. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. What would you prefer I call you?”

You turned away, seeing red. Because he was right. He didn’t have a name to call you. But like hell would you surrender it now.

“It would have been helpful back there,” he said, stepping closer to the fire and crouching, holding his hands out to warm them. “Knowing what name to yell to wake you up so we didn’t both get eaten.”

That was something you didn’t want to dwell on. “We didn’t get eaten last I checked.”

His smile turned crooked it went so wide. So damn satisfied you wanted to wipe it off his face. “Exactly.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. Had he made his point? That you were alive and nothing else mattered? Yes. Were you about to admit it? Absolutely not.

You got up and stormed to the tent in much the same manner as you had the night prior, only rather than teasing you this time, he had made a fool out of you. So you didn’t regret it a second when you shut him out for the second night in a row, even if he was without a bedroll. The snow would be cushion enough.

When you’d finally shaken your anger enough to drift off, Arthur came bursting into the tent. It scared you at first, the memory of those wolves still fresh.

“What is it?” you rasped, shooting straight up.

“It’s freezing,” he said, his arms wrapped around himself as he tried to rub the cold away, his coat damp with snow.

You groaned in annoyance and laid back down. “I didn’t invite you in here.”

“Too bad,” he said as he knelt down anyway. “It’s my tent.”

“Well keep the cold on your side,” you argued, turning your back to him.

You felt something press against the exposed skin of your neck, so frigid you rounded on him. He had taken his glove off, purposely pressed an ice cold hand against you. “Excuse me!” you yelled, incredulous. Then he was laughing like a kid as he settled beside you anyway.

“Little cold ain’t gonna hurt you. Now move over or share.” Meaning your bedroll. The gall of this man.

“Absolutely not.”

He had a laugh on his lips as he said, “Don’t make me fight you, woman. We already seen I’ll win.”

Then his arms were snaking around you, pulling you into him so tight you could feel a heat sting your cheeks that had nothing to do with the temperature. Your heart started racing. You knew he would have been able to feel it had he not been shivering himself. But he was, his frame shaking against you. It thawed your annoyance some, though it didn’t stop you being struck with disbelief at him doing this.

“Just so we’re clear,” you said, needing to make it known lest he realize you weren’t fighting him. “I didn’t agree to this.”

“Like you wasn’t in here freezing your ass off too.”

You had been. You couldn’t deny it was much warmer lying against him. And worse, it was…oddly comforting. Kind of nice. But still your heart pounded, not knowing much, but knowing this was intimate somehow. The last time you had laid against someone this close, it had been your own mother. You didn’t want to think about how differently you seemed to react to it this time. To why. Instead, you let yourself be for a moment, ignoring what you should do, ignoring what was expected of a man and a woman who hardly knew each other. You allowed yourself the simple privilege of touch, something you had never had before. Even if it didn’t mean a thing to Arthur or to you.

After too little thought and lots of silence, you realized he was relaxed, his shivering long gone. You should push him away. Should take his steady breathing in your ear to mean he’d fallen asleep like this. But for some reason, you thought he was just as awake as you were. And that made your heart race even worse. Was he doing the same thing you were, holding you just because he could? Surely he knew better. You could claim ignorance, but he couldn’t. Not after how he had talked just last night.

Afraid he would feel your nervousness through your coat, you whispered to him.

“Arthur.”

He didn’t stir. Asleep then. You were overthinking it. And, like a true moron, you didn’t want to wake him. You realized with no small amount of embarrassment that you wanted to sleep like this too. You were just curious about it all, you told yourself. Nothing more. So you let him be and closed your eyes, melting into his warmth. It took a long time for your thoughts to stop lingering where they shouldn’t, and when they finally did, they didn’t improve much. You were left wondering why you had ever wanted to stay on the opposite side of the tent from this man.

_________

Chapter ten is here.

tag list: @tommys0not0beloved @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445

[sadistic-kiss]

🐺House of Alphas🐺

(Jujutsu Kaisen Omegaverse )

Summary: Waking up in a world that was not your own was problematic enough. Being the villainess was another. However, the possessive alphas might take the cake.

Disclaimer: Angsty but I ain’t Gege

Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sukuna x Alpha!Gojo x Alpha!Toji x Alpha!Nanami x Alpha!Getou

Sneak Peak Chapter 42: Stuffed

~

...

You gasp in horror, “GOJO!”

“GET HER!”

You were much quicker, throwing yourself into your nest you zipped your finger to Satoru who made it to you first, “YOU CAN’T COME IN!”

“NO~!”

Then you threw yourself up and zipped your tent closed as everyone else growled.

“Dammit Gojo!”

“Sweetheart come on out why are you hiding?”

“The spell is up! You know why I’m hiding!” You yell back feeling rather hot now. How long did they know? When did that blabber mouth tell them?!

“I knew I should have grabbed her when she came back.”

“Dammit, fucking Sukuna distracted me.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Sukuna sounded annoyed being left out.

“We have no idea.” Your betas were just as confused.

“Oh, Gojo had-“ Getou began making your face heat up but then Nanami cut in.

“Wait… don’t say…she can get shy about these things with others around. Inumaki, Momo, do you mind leaving camp for a bit?”

“Yeah sure, we will go scavenge for some things.“

“Excellent, thank you.”

You sat with your knees tucked to your chest, listening to the commotion outside your tent. You heard your betas depart and felt the sensation of your alphas moving closer to your nest.

“Little bird, it’s just us and Junpei is asleep, would you come out for us?”

“You guys still haven’t told me what the hell is going on.”

“Satoru gave her a little cum pouch and she’s being her usual cute self about it~.” Getou giggled.

Shouldn’t he be cold or some shit ?!

“And then I plugged her up~ it’s too precious. You guys should see it.”

Oh and there he goes poking the bears!

“Ah I would love to…come on Princess can daddy see your tummy?”

“Ah-“ You paused when you heard Sukuna stomping toward you, the mental barricade of your nest the only thing stopping your wolves from eating you alive.

“Oi! Get your ass out here! We’ve already seen it all.”

You took a deep breath, this was nothing new. You should be used to this. “Ok… if I come out this counts as your massage Sukuna!”

“The fuck it does.”

“Come on take one for the team!”

“You take one for the team.”

“I already used my massage!”

“How about it counts for mine darling? But I get to be the master of this play.”

Getou’s comment was full of sin. He sounded absolutely smitten with the idea of being the ringleader of whatever ‘play’ he had in mind. It almost felt like you were about to make a deal with an imp who was giggling wickedly while watching as you signed the paper.

“Fine!”

...

~

*Read More*

[olderthannetfic]

I'm curious about people's opinions on this.

I recently saw some complaints about people writing het omegaverse and how it should only be for queer relationships and there seemed to be some drama over it and claims that het ships are ruining it. And because I tend to enjoy drama more than I should I read a long twitter thread. Now, the omegaverse isn't my cup of tea. All I really know about it is, wolves, Mpreg, dominance and submission. But it is very popular. Nearly all of my fandoms and ships will have a few omegaverse fics on every one of their AO3 pages. (Nearly all of them are M/M ships)

So I guess, what are the issues of people writing het omegaverse? Or should this be another case of Don't like Don't read and let people have their fun? Or does it just not really work for het ships?

--

Yes, het will totally ruin the weird dog dicks AU. Absolutely.

There are no ~issues~. People should write whatever the fuck they want. But if you want to explore whether it "works", you have to delve into what makes omegaverse tick actually, which is more than just wolves+mpreg.

One common use of the trope is to make someone 100000% the top 5eva. This is the type people often mock or complain about in m/m, and it works much the same in f/m. This is what showed up in that stupid omegaverse lawsuit situation: indie het erotica/romance novelists are now using this as a way to structure their fsub rapey ultra alpha hero stuff, and one of them decided she was the original and no one should steal her idea. (Soooo original.)

The Alphaest Alpha to Ever Alpha is a fantasy, not realism, no matter how many dicks the ship has, so it's not any stranger to go "No, he's really, really on top!" about the dude in het than about one of the dudes in m/m.

If this trope is hot to you, it's hot. If it isn't, it's not any stupider with het than with slash.

But that's not the only thing omegaverse gets used for. It's also used for the diametric opposite: debunking the idea of someone naturally being super, duper default on top. This kind of fic often does something with betas and actually engages with the idea of a three-biological-sex system (instead of betas being how you get rid of the characters you don't ship). It will have alpha/alpha relationships or omegas topping or omega-->beta trans characters or all manner of other gender/sex exploration.

I don't read a ton of het in fandom, but I do read m/m/f, and I've read fics where each chapter is a different scenario where the three are some other omegaverse combo. This is where you'll often see female alphas and male omegas and various takes on exactly what that would look like. There's no reason het couldn't also be used to explore sex and gender stuff.

And, really, some people just find knotting hot. A story being het won't change that.

[yuikomorii]

As someone who only watched the anime (and read some manga chapters afterwards) I really can’t understand how people can ship Yui with anyone else than Ayato. In the anime he is the only one who cares about her. While the others just use her for her blood, Ayato is always protective of her and tries to save her from any danger. Or he is the only one concerned when she disappears (which is honestly just wild that the other Sakamakis don’t even care that she’s gone). You can really tell by the anime that Ayato is the creators’ favourite (Because I feel like every otome game or harem/seraglios anime creator has a fave in their work)

// Right on! Perhaps they only consider HDB when judging him, but everyone was a jerk there, so I don't see a huge problem in Ayato's situation. I feel like some people are not shipping them because "he threw her in a pool" but 1) he regretted it and saved her afterwards, and 2) it's confirmed by Rejet that both Ayato and Yui have feelings for each other in the anime but I'm sure she fell for him after he snatched her first kiss. Additionally, he was the only one to confront Richter in order to save her, and in the second season, when Shu advised him that going to the Mukamis would be risky due to to the wolves, Ayato was like: “I don't care if I die, I'm not going to let them have her." That’s very similar to the DF prologue, in which Ayato uses himself as shield and sacrifices himself for Yui so as not to get her hurt and even if you make Yui choose someone else, Ayato will still be in a coma or severely wounded in their routes due to the attack.

They’re basically the most shipped in Japan because Ayato is super big and people will automatically like Yui too, since she is known as his girlfriend and they both make each other happy. Most Yui cosplayers or lovers are Ayato stans too and even if many people aren't necessarily in the DL fandom, they will still favour Ayayui because it's a "safe option" ship in the sense that they both look aesthetically pleasing together, they seem most like a typical couple, and he makes her feel like a normal teenager, which is what Yui most desires.

Other than that, the ship itself is super praised and no matter if they stan another Diaboy, DL fans will absolutely love any official Ayayui content they get. The toxic side of the western fandom might seem petty about it but Japanese fans, despite liking other ships too, actually acknowledge that Ayato is the best choice for Yui and that’s why they have no problem with Ayayui getting more love from Rejet than the other ships.

Besides, it’s cute how it’s canon that Yui secretly has feelings for Ayato even in the non-individual CD dramas/Tokutens, as seen here. xD

[sarawritestories]

do you like the way cassian was in acosf? i feel like sjm wrote him to be really....idk just different compared to how he was in acowar and acomaf.

Ahhhh my favorite topic! Cassian 😍

Also my not so favorite topic SJM Character assassinations 😒

I also hope you are prepared for the long rant I'm about to go on sorryyyyyyy.

Let's get into it: Did I like Cassian in ACOSF?

Yes for the following reasons:

-We learned more about his Love Language

-His Compassion for his friends

-Any moment that he was really soft with Nesta (Despite what a lot of the people in the fandom believe those moments are on the page).

HOWEVER MY ANSWER IS ALSO NO.

ACOMAF Cassian would absolutely Obliterate ACOSF Cassian.

Why? Good question I'd love to answer.

Cassian in ACOMAF and ACOWAR always was one to stand up to not only people who insulted Feyre her sisters. But he knew when Rhys needed to get knocked down a peg and be more humble. So him just being subservient to Rhys in ACOSF in front of Nesta (Because despite what people say he does defend her just not in Rhysand way.)

Also SJM played into the fandom fan service of dumbing him down to a brute (its subtle but its there.) LIKE THIS MAN IS A GENERAL HE HAS WON COUNTLESS BATTLES THANK TO HIS STRATEGIES. But instead of having this sweet story of Nesta showing him how to be a courtier; she has Rhys throw him to the wolves (Eris) to make him a babbling idiot WHICH HE"S NOT.

You would have had a better story if Nesta was showing him how to do these things OR A cute Courtier X Bodyguard story line had she let Nesta do what she had trained her whole life to do and Cassian being there to keep her safe.

ACOMAF Cassian is emotionally mature, he's playful and knows how to lighten a mood but he's compassionate when it comes to Feyre and her emotional stability. In the bonus chapter, he's enraged someone hurt Nesta enough to cause her to flinch at his touch wanting to protect her. ACOSF he has the emotional capacity of a 12 year old boy and it sucks.

Cassian's character was watered down in ACOSF with just enough flashes of his old self that it keeps you seated but I wanted better for him and Nesta too tbh. She never wanted to be a warrior and I love that she found friends and got healing but the story could have been told differently and her love story with Cassian should have gone differently and both deserve to have more soft moments with each other.

Also his interactions with Mor were weird and felt kind of forced. I didn't like that.

Cassian seemed to be there for a plot device and she didn't give a shit about his character development and in the process whittled him down to what drew me to him the minute I met him in ACOMAF.

All the while deciding she was going to destroy every fucking character in that series in the process.

You will never make me hate Cassian even though I do agree he is very off in ACOSF he does have some shining moments in there that still makes me metaphorically weak in the knees for him. But I know just by how he was handling Nesta alone like a sex crazed boy. ACOMAF Cassian would have decimated ACOSF Cassian.

Thanks for coming to my rant.

[therealvinelle]

What is it that you find tends to influence you when deciding on using chapter title for multi chapter fic versus the default numbering system? Last Christmas has the dates for a fun effect of showing chronological progression, obviously, but Bleach on the Brain has amusing titles for a less concretely definable reason compared to say The Immaculate Conception. It’s not a complaint about the variety- there’s absolutely nothing wrong with any of it style wise, but I can’t remember reading any of your thoughts on it before so was intrigued enough to ask what drives your decisions? (whimsy is a fine answer, but elaboration if your thoughts/process/opinions even then could be fun to hear)

There are two wolves in me, always at war: the desire to find a given chapter easily, and the laziness just wanting to get a completed chapter out of the way without having to think of chapter titles.

My first actual fic, Cat Among the Pigeons, had chapter titles. This would be a bitterly regretted mistake as my chapter title theme was an Agatha Christie novel with a plot, theme, or other factor fitting the events of each chapter. I should never have done that, it was horrible having to think of one each time. @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin, who'd gotten burnt with her own dedication to chapter titles on Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus, pointed and laughed.

So then no chapter titles, until Bleach on the Brain which was supposed to just be a oneshot, which somehow led to chapter titles which carried on into the sequel. That was the anomaly fic, then later Secret Fic would have chapter titles as part of an elaborate internal joke which has now carried over into other fics, as we just put the chapter titles in Norwegian.

The way I see it it's finally bringing justice to the cowriting balance, as we write in Muffin's language but I get the fic and chapter titles. Slipper ikke unna norsken, tapere!