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slut4thebroken · 3 months

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Safe

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Your boyfriend just wants to keep you safe… by any means necessary.

Warnings | Smut, dubcon, attempted? SA (not by Jon), manipulation, walking red flag lol, house wife kink?, praise, painful sex, sub space, crying, dacryphilia, breeding.

Words | 2.3 k

Notes | Finally finished the fic from this lol

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You were kept properly fed and fucked, what more did you need?

The first time you asked to leave after partially moving in, he was almost offended. He gave you a short “fine, if you want to put yourself in danger, go ahead” and walked away. You didn’t leave, except to occasionally stop by your own apartment. Usually he'd do that for you though.

The second time, you didn’t ask, you just brought it up. You wondered what he meant by that. “The world— but especially Gotham— is full of people who want to take advantage of you and hurt you. They see your kind heart as a vulnerability they can exploit. Do you understand?”

“But.. that’s never happened before?” You said meekly. Despite living in one of the most crime ridden cities in America, nothing bad has happened to you yet— you’ve lived a perfectly average life.

“You were lucky. But that luck will run out. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” He said, gently brushing your hair behind your ear. “I care about you too much to do that to you, that’s why I’m not forcing you outside.” The way he twisted his words around to make it seem like he wasn’t forcing you to stay inside was completely lost on you.

“Oh. Thank you, Jon.”

“You’re welcome, angel. I know it’s scary. Would you like me to help you get rid of that fear?” He cooed, making you blush at the implication behind his words.

He wanted to be gentle with you… but thinking about how scared you’d look in a situation like that made it hard to control himself. He tried not to get too impatient while he ate you out since he knew you needed the preparation… Once your words were becoming a little incoherent as you begged and pleaded senselessly, he decided you were ready enough. You still struggled to take him, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. You didn’t dare say anything though because of how desperate you were to please him, not wanting to ask him to wait even longer for what he needed.

“Do you know what those men want to do to a sweet thing like you?” He said, his thrusts slowing into a rocking motion. “They want to take every last ounce of innocence and kindness you may have. And do you know how they’ll do that, my love?” You shook your head, trying to focus on his words and not the feeling of his cock inside you. “They’ll fuck every single one of your holes until they either get bored or interrupted. But they won’t be gentle with you, like I am.” The thought of them being less gentle than Jon was almost unfathomable. You whimpered and bit your lip, not wanting to think about something like that. “No..” He chuckled quietly. “Animals like that don’t care about you. You’re just a set of holes to them.”

“Jon..” You whined, brows furrowing.

“I’m just trying to help you understand, angel. I’m keeping you safe, why do you always have to question me?” He frowned, making you falter. “I thought you wanted to be with someone who cares about you and your well-being. If you don’t, then maybe we’re not meant for each other,”

“No! No, I- I do want that— want you. I’m sorry for questioning you, Jon. I won’t do it anymore, I promise.” You begged staring up at him through your lashes as your eyes started to fill with tears at the thought of him leaving you.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? I promise I won’t be mad.”

“No, I want to be with you. Please.” He wasn’t quiet for long, but it was long enough to make you start rambling out pleas. “I’m sorry for questioning you, I know you’re just trying to keep me safe. Please don’t leave me, Jon.” You whimpered, making him shush you gently.

“It’s okay, little one. I’ll stay and keep you safe, don’t worry.”

To really drive the point home, he staged something. He asked you to go to the store for a few things since it would close before he could get off work. You were on your way back, almost to the apartment building, when someone grabbed you, dragging you back into an alley. The bag fell to the ground and he roughly shoved you against the wall, covering your mouth when you started to scream. He pushed you into the wall with his body, his bulge digging into your hip, and as he started ripping off your clothes, all you could do was cry. You didn’t know how else to react.

Your shirt was discarded to the floor and when he started forcing your bra off, you tried to put up a little bit of a fight, but he just grabbed your neck and slammed your head into the wall. You whimpered at the pain, hands going limp and dropping to your sides. He finally removed the garment and you barely registered the cold air on your nipples.

“Yeah, look at how fuckin hard they are— You like this shit, don’t you?” He asked smugly, making you shake your head, but you immediately stopped when your vision started spinning. “I bet this pussy’s wet too.” He pushed your skirt up, then roughly cupped your sex over your underwear, making your cries turn into violent sobs.

“Hey!” His body was suddenly gone, making you collapse to the floor. “Angel?” Your head snapped up once you registered his voice.

“Jon?” You whimpered, trying to suppress the sobbing.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He put your shirt back on, then grabbed your bra and the bag before helping you up. Once you were inside his apartment, the crying came back full force. He hugged you and cradled your head, holding you against his shoulder.

“You’re okay— you’re safe now.” He whispered, holding you tighter. “I’m so sorry, little one. I should’ve never asked you to do that.” He brought you over to the bed and had you lay down.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, voice thick with something you couldn’t quite discern.

“My head.” You whimpered, the pain intensifying now that you were thinking about it. He got up to get you some painkillers and water, then laid down next to you and wrapped you up in his embrace.

“You might have a concussion, so you have to stay awake. Can you do that for me?” You whimpered and shook your head, feeling so incredibly exhausted. “I know you’re tired, but I need you to stay awake. Can you please do that for me?” You wanted to please him so badly that, despite the fact that you were struggling to keep your eyes open, you agreed. All you could think about was what just happened— over and over again. You let out a choked sob and turned your face into his chest to muffle your cries.

“I was so scared, Jon.” You whimpered, fisting his shirt to ground yourself.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so, so sorry.” He whispered, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. “Let me help you forget.” One of his hands started snaking down your back until he reached your hip. He grabbed you hard enough to make you whimper and moved you to lay partially on top of him. “We need keep you awake too.” He said softly. When you felt his bulge against your stomach, your body started trembling even more intensely.

“I know this may seem hard, but you know I only want what’s best for you. I would never do anything to hurt you, angel.” You nodded with a sniffle and he gave you a pleased smile, then pulled you into a kiss. His hands roamed your body, making you wince when he dragged his fingers over the scratches on your back just a little too hard.

He quickly removed your clothes and once you were completely undressed, he rolled both of you over and settled between your legs. With gentle hands, he pushed your hair out of your face and wiped the drying tears from your cheeks. You’ve never looked prettier than right now, your eyes glossy and wide from fear, and your lips trembling, staying slightly parted as you took in ragged breaths.

“My sweet girl.” He cooed. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again. If that means letting you move in with me fully, then I’m more than willing to make that sacrifice for you.” Your bottom lip quivered as you stared up at him with teary eyes, but your expression showed that you still weren’t completely convinced yet. “It’s up to you, darling. Whatever you need, I’ll do it for you.”

“Thank you, Jonny.” You whimpered and he clenched his jaw when you used the name you only use in a certain headspace with him. He always took advantage of these moments. The ones where you were pliant and needy and too dumb to know what you wanted.

“Of course… I love you so much, little one.” Your cheeks flushed and you looked away from him, embarrassed. He knows how those words affect you which is pretty much the only reason he says them. He cares for you obviously— he’d kill anyone who’d lay a finger on you… except the people he hires for that— but he doesn’t love anyone. Not even you.

“I love you, Jonny.” You whined. He leaned down to kiss you as he worked on opening his pants and removing his cock, making you let out a startled moan when the tip brushed your folds. It took a little more force than usual because he’s been hard since he saw you in the alley and he couldn’t give two shits about foreplay right now. When he finally breached your opening, you let out a pained whine that was overshadowed by his groan.

“Every time feels like the first time I fucked you.” He said through a breath, leaning his head into the crook of your neck as he panted quietly. “So fucking tight and hot and wet… best little cunt I’ve ever felt.” He moaned quietly.

“Jon…” You whined and he could practically feel the blush on your neck.

“I’m sorry, angel, I can’t help it. You feel so incredible, you deserve to know how good you make me feel.” He didn’t let you try to respond before slowly dragging his hips back until only the tip was inside, then forcing his cock back in just as slowly. He got lost in the feeling of slowly rutting into you, your whimpers music to his ears as you just laid there and took it.

“If you decide you want to stay with me, you won’t even have to go outside— I’ll take care of everything for you.” He cupped your cheek as his eyes bored into yours. “All you’ll have to do is clean up around the house, have a warm meal ready when I get home, and take my cock whenever I need. You won’t have to worry about anything else.” He promised.

You nodded, staring up at him as your bottom lip trembled. He could tell you were still in pain, but you were already fucked dumb enough that you either didn’t feel it or didn’t care.

“What else did he do to you? Did he touch you?” He rasped, trying not to sound too eager as he snaked a hand down to rub your clit. Your shaking intensified and you let out a quiet whimper as you nodded again. “Where?” You whined and looked away from him. He could tell you wanted to stay quiet, but his tone showed that he was expecting a response.

“There a-and… my chest.”

“I’m so sorry, angel… Were you scared?” He was getting close now.

“Yes.. I thought— I…” You cut off with a strangled sob and he used his free hand to cup your cheek again. Your crying picked back up and tears were streaming down your face, making his cock throb almost painfully.

“I know, sweetheart. It’s okay, it’s over now.” Despite his words, you continued crying. Because it wasn’t over. He knew you weren’t in the mood, but he also knew that you were too stupid to realize that right now. You were too stupid to realize he was just finishing what that man started.

His hand moved down to roughly grope your tits as his fingers picked up on your clit. You were practically frozen beneath him. You weren’t grabbing his hair or clinging to his shoulders like you normally would. You were just laying there limply, taking his cock like a good little girl should.

“I’m so close, angel. Just a little longer.” He said through a breath. You were whimpering and moaning quietly because of how rough he was being, and he couldn’t help but smile at how pretty you looked. Your lashes were damp with tears as you continued crying, your brows scrunched together from all of the physical and emotional pain you were enduring…

With one final thrust, he fully buried his cock inside you and let out a low groan as his head fell downward, resting in the crook of your neck. He removed his hand from your clit and wrapped his arm under your shoulders and head, hugging you tightly, making your whimpers and cries get a little louder. He reveled in the way your body was trembling and the way your cunt was practically suffocating his cock because of how tense you were. Grunting quietly, he rode out the rest of his orgasm, only loosening his grip on your body once his cock stopped twitching.

“Good girl.” He whispered, placing a tender kiss on your neck. He waited until his heavy breathing returned to a normal level, then pulled back to look at you. “I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you ever again.” He said softly. “I’m going to keep you safe, little one. I promise.” Safe from everyone but himself.

I edited the taglist post so pls take a look ty <3

(For the record, this ⬇️ is why I’m changing the taglist system lmao. It’s just too much😭 This is going to be the last fic (except ongoing fics) that’ll have a taglist fyi)

Taglist

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @theoraekenslover @kaorisakamotofan @scorpiussage @naevisct @jimmywoosimp @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @monsterfromthewoods @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend @bernelflo @milktert @nyxxie.pooh @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @milkytomura @bigbossbabysworld @sheisthedxrkness @ll4n4 @olivialveshbc @feyresqueen @charlottegemyngende @ffionspreach @drcranessweetestdoe @goblinjnr @1nterstellarcha0s @mothhball @anonwrtr @venustusjuliet8 @cillianslvt @bluujaiwrites @jayroytodd @harleyql @lokabrenna0801 @hanawrites404 @soo-woop @sewmxx @havkjhdecs @trumanbluee @twasbrillig71 @punkiebuttons

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader smut #cillian murphy

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theladycarpathia · 2 months

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Billy’s not expecting the call from his dad.

“Billy?” Hop sounds distant, the faint sound of an idling engine in the background. Billy blinks, because his dad is at work and as far as Billy knows that usually means sitting behind a desk at the station and arguing with Flo.

“Don’t you have paperwork to be doing?” Billy says and Hopper snorts. There’s the sound of background traffic that’s then shut out by the clang of a car door.

“Don’t give me cheek, I am still the chief,” Hopper says as though that means anything in a small town where the most crime that they get is some drunk idiot attempting to rob the gas station.

“Yes, sir,” Billy quips and changes the channel. No one else is home and he’s bored. Jon and Joyce are still at work, and El and Will are doing weird nerd activities. The diner didn’t have a shift for him today and he doesn’t have a date, so he came home. He’d half expected someone to be here, instead of getting stuck with a protein bar and old reruns.

“That’s more like it,” Hopper says and then clears his throat awkwardly. “I was just wondering…are you definitely single?”

“Dad,” Billy says, attention now fully away from the TV set. Hop’s called him before, to ask him shit like do they need milk and to take the trash out. He doesn't call to talk about Billy's love life. They never talk about that, not after that time Hopper came in his room without knocking. “What is your next question, because this could make the next family dinner a little uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Hopper gripes. There’s the sudden cackle of laughter in the background and Billy sits up.

“Are you with someone?” he asks and then sucks in a breath at the implications. “Did you put me on speaker?”

“I may have done,” Hopper says, sounding sheepish. “I just picked up a young man outside the movie theatre and he’s about your age…”

“I’m nineteen!” the mystery guy hollers from the backseat. Hopper keeps talking like the guy hadn’t spoken.

“I don’t know, I just thought he was your type.”

Billy presses a hand to his temple, unable to believe that his dad has just said those words. “What’s my type?” he asks, wondering if he’s going to combust right here and now. Hopper makes that little awkward throat clearing again, like he can’t believe the situation either.

“You know,” he says stiffly. “Sort of…pretty.”

Oh God. Billy can never look Hopper in the eye again.

“You think I’m pretty?” the guy asks curiously, and Billy can’t blame him for sounding a bit weirded out.

“I think you look like a lot of the doe-eyed pretty-boys my son brings home,” Hopper snaps. Despite his obvious discomfort, Billy can’t help the rush of affection at Hopper trying to be supportive. Neil would have beat the shit out of him. Hopper tries to hook him up with appropriately aged delinquents in the back of the police car.

“A lot?” the guy asks and Billy flushes. He then regrets it because he has no idea if he even wants to impress whatever guy Hopper has picked up.

“It’s not a lot,” he says defensively because Hawkins isn’t exactly big on the gay scene. His last boyfriend he met at Tina’s Halloween party and to be fair, if you wear a kilt and not a lot else to a party in October, Billy’s absolutely going to beg you to rail him in the downstairs cloakroom. The relationship hadn't exactly worked out.

“Look, I get the feeling I’m never going to hear the end of this so here’s the situation,” Hopper says, sounding tired. “This is my son, Billy. He’s about to finish high school, he likes cars and burgers and loud music. He has shit taste in men even though he’s attractive, clever and a smart mouth. Billy, this is Steve. I was on my way back from the mayor’s office when I caught him peeing in an alley. Judging by his big brown eyes and the fact that public nudity doesn’t seem to be a problem for him, I thought of you.”

“Aww,” Billy drawls, sitting back on the couch. There are lights in the drive so someone has just arrived home. Which is good because he needs to tell everyone this story so they can give Hopper shit about it over dinner. “Pops, that’s so sweet.”

“Don’t say I never do anything for you,” Hopper says, like he hasn’t already done everything for Billy by getting him out, giving him a home. “I’ll take an extra polaroid when I process him.”

“I had to take a leak!” Steve protests and Hopper sucks in air through his teeth.

“There are public bathrooms, kid, I’ve heard those work pretty well. Billy, help your mom with dinner when she gets home.” Sucks for Hopper, it’s Jon heading up the path, keys dangling from his fingers. Billy can’t wait to tell him this story.

“Or what, you won’t bring me any more dates?” Billy asks, but he’s only half-joking. Hopper means well and kind of fucks it up a lot but this time he might have hit it right on the money. He thinks he might like Steve.

“Do I get a picture?” Steve asks. “Or does the Hawkins Police just pimp out young innocent men with full bladders?”

Oh yeah. He’s definitely going to like Steve.

“I have a picture on my desk,” Hopper admits grumpily. There’s the jangle of keys in the door as Jonathan lets himself in. “You can look at it if you’re good.”

“And what if I’m not?” Steve asks and Jonathan walks in just in time to raise his eyebrows at Billy.

“I can help punish him, if he’s not,” Billy suggests, and Hopper hangs up the phone just as Steve begins to laugh.

This has probably been done before because it's based on that famous tumblr post but it's so dull during school holidays I have nothing to do but write. And I have no in progress Harringrove fics which is probably a problem I should fix.

#harringrove #ficlet #billy hargrove #steve harrington #jim hopper #hopper being a well meaning but slightly awkward dad has my heart #he'll tell this story at their wedding #as revenge for billy telling everyone that hop set him up #seriously though I have a dozen fics in progress rn #not one of them is harringrove #what's wrong with me

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riality-check · 1 year

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cw: discussions of body image

After everything, Steve gets softer.

Eddie spends so much time around him that he doesn't even realize it's happening, not until he's looking through his version of the photo album Jonathan put together toward the end of summer '86 so he could give it to Nancy and Robin and everyone else before the graduating class headed their separate ways.

He looks at it on an August day in 1987, about a year or so after Jonathan shyly handed them out. It's hot as balls outside, and while the AC in the trailer makes a lot of noise, it doesn't make a lot of cold, so it's hot as balls inside, too. Eddie ties his hair up with a purple scrunchie he stole from Nancy last week, and as he's looking at a page in the photo album, he stops.

It's a picture of Steve lounging by the pool, sunglasses on, blissfully unaware of Max and Erica in matching blue bathing suits standing behind him, poised to dump a bucket of water on him. Eddie remembers how Steve chased them down after, soaking wet, and threw them both into the pool without a single shred of hesitation.

He remembers Nancy's knowing look as he flushed from his face all the way down to his chest, thinking very not-PG thoughts about Steve being so strong, and he remembers shaking his soaking wet hair at her to make her shriek.

But, obviously, he didn't remember how Steve looked then. He's been superimposing the version of Steve he knows now onto the one that existed then. Casualty of spending nearly every day with him after the Spring Break from Hell.

Steve, in the summer of 1986, was so skinny.

Not rail thin like Eddie was. Not even close. He's always been broad, always muscular, but in that picture of him lounging on the chair with his arms above his head, shirtless and wearing a pair of swim trunks with the periodic table on them - a gag gift from Dustin that he actually ended up using - Eddie can see the definition of his stomach, his arms, his chest.

He looks good in the photo, but, then again, Steve could wear a potato sack and roll around in a pig sty, and Eddie would still think he looks good.

"What are you looking at?" a voice says from the doorway.

Eddie looks up to see Steve, 1987 Steve, the Steve he knows now.

He's got his arms crossed around his chest, looking at Eddie with a fond sort of smile. His glasses - which he refused to get until Robin dragged him to the optometrist - are perched on his nose, and he's barefoot and shirtless, having just thrown on a pair of shorts after getting out of the shower.

And Eddie realizes that Steve now, in the year since, has gotten softer.

He remembers reading, once, that really strong people don't have super defined muscles. Whatever book he found that in acknowledged that it was counterintuitive, but that fat supports muscle. The two have to exist, side by side, and a muscular body without fat is a body under stress.

Steve in 1986 was under stress. Eddie realizes, and a sort of warm relief floods his chest when he does, that Steve in 1987 isn't under stress anymore.

He's still strong and broad. Always has been, probably always will be. But where there was definition in his stomach last year, there's a little bit of squish now. His biceps have gotten bigger, too, as have his thighs.

Eddie is torn between wanting to bite him and wanting to squeeze him and never let him go.

"Jon's photo album," he says instead, and Steve traverses the general clutter of clothes, music sheets, and cables on the floor of Eddie's room to get to his bed.

He sits down next to Eddie, and Eddie can't resist wrapping an arm around his waist and squeezing, pulling him into his side.

Steve, as always, complies.

Eddie doesn't flip the page in the book. He lets Steve look at the page of pictures from Max's birthday, then watches as his eyes land on the picture of him.

Eddie watches him frown and decides that, nope, they're not doing that today.

Steve has told him, vaguely, about some of the stuff he was pressured into doing for sports. About cutting calories and vigorous exercise, about how soreness and hunger were viewed as prizes instead of pain.

He mentioned, once, how he was glad he never did wrestling because he was pretty sure it would have made it all a hell of a lot worse.

And to think Eddie used to hate jocks before dating Steve.

"You're hotter now," he says without any preamble, and while he probably should have started this conversation differently, it's worth the surprised laugh Steve lets out.

"You're just saying that," he says, and Eddie can't let that stand.

He puts the photo album on the bed and climbs into Steve's lap, holding his face in his hands.

"I'm not," he says seriously. "You're hot all the time. Probably always have been, definitely always will be."

It's true. Eddie's miserable crush on Steve during his first senior year, when Steve had that awful haircut was the subject of much good-natured bullying from Gareth, Jeff, and Archie, as well as bonafide proof that, unfortunately, he could not choose who to have a crush on.

"But I love whatever version of you I have in front of me the most," Eddie continues. "So, you're hotter now."

Steve smiles. it's a timid smile, one that Eddie thinks doesn't suit his face. Steve is a confident guy at his core. Timid smiles look like he's trying on a too-small Halloween costume.

"You mean it?" he asks.

"Of course I do," Eddie says, kissing him once on the forehead. "You're always warm, you're strong as hell, you give amazing hugs, and you make me feel safe."

"Safe?"

"Yeah. You feel safe. Like home."

Steve's face breaks out into a grin, one that's more confident, one that suits his face better, and he kisses Eddie once, slow and sweet.

And if Eddie loves holding and being held by Steve, well, that's no one's business but theirs.

And if Eddie's favorite place to be is laying with his head in Steve's lap, cheek pressed to his stomach as he falls asleep, well, they don't need to say anything about it.

#ria writes #steddie #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #st #st ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #cw body image #dredged up from discord yet again #i hope y'all like it!

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saturdaynightfrightclub · 6 days

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DC’s penchant for creating characters with black hair and blue eyes presents a really funny opportunity. Especially when so many of said characters being of similar ages to Bruce’s children.

I think a lot of them have been mistaken as actually being Bruce’s kids by tabloids.

I like to think it started with Donna Troy. Who would hang out around a young Dick Grayson-Wayne. Would hang out with young Dickie Wayne a lot. To the point that the paparazzi took notice, and started to speculate on the nature of their relationship.

Which abruptly ended when an overzealous reporter confronted the pair as they left a movie demanding info on the nature of their relationship and when they had started dating.

To which Donna had laughed and waved them off saying: “Dick is my brother!”

English was not Donna Troy’s first language. She didn’t realize that by omitting the word like (as in: Dick is like my brother) she had caused a media uproar. Because everyone knew that Dick Grayson was Brucie Wayne’s son, his little boy. But the insinuation that he had two children?

They take one look at this tall, gorgeous young woman with black hair and blue eyes. And then look at the young boy beside her, also with black hair and blue eyes. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to believe that Bruce had adopted two children who bore passing resemblance to him, if not fathered the pair himself.

It was Outrageous. It was Insane. It was Deliciously juicy gossip.

(Dick could have corrected them. But he actually thought Bruce trying to explain away another kid to be really, really funny.)

The papers go crazy for the idea of Bruce Wayne: Family man and suddenly all anyone wants to interview him about is his two kids! Donna and Dick!

Bruce had expected this, having been aware of Donna’s slip-up. But he didn’t refute it, because it really was a bit funny. Instead he spouts off proudly about his two kids, relaying stories of Donna growing up (which he had originally heard from Diana). It’s harmless, something to feed the papers and expand upon his Brucie Wayne persona.

After all, it’s not like he actually intends to adopt any children besides Dick.

But. . . Then there’s Jason. With his dark curls and big blue eyes who talk at length about how cool his “big sister” is. And never mentions his “big brother” except to pout at the mention of Dick Grayson’s name.

And for a while Bruce is believed to have three children.

Except after Jason, there’s Tim Drake.

Tim, who (having sustained a serious concussion) one day panicked and proclaimed a confused Conner Kent as his brother. Upping Bruce’s supposed children count to five.

Later he offhandedly mentions a Billy and Freddie. The media goes nuts with the notion that Bruce has two more sons hidden away somewhere. Seven children, six boys and one girl.

The papers sympathize with Donna’s apparent status as eldest and only daughter of Bruce Wayne.

This doesn’t last long, as soon afterwards Bruce is introducing his daughter Cassandra to the public. Shes often seen with a blonde young woman who goes by Stephanie, and the pair have tabloids speculating that Bruce has branched away from his obsession with adopting blue eyed, black haired children.

Years after that, there’s yet another young boy. With browned skin and green eyes, he looks exactly like a young Bruce Wayne with different colors. Another child to Bruce’s family. And after that, there’s Duke Thomas joining the fray.

And then one day a reporter stops a pair of boys outside of school one day and asks Damian Wayne about his friend, one Jon Kent. Wanting a story about how the children of the elite differ in terms of making friends from “normal” children. Damian scoffs at the question and asks the reporter if he’s so incompetent he can’t recognize both of Bruce Wayne’s sons.

The media goes nuts for this.

Bruce Wayne; single father to twelve kids.

Lois laughs so hard she cries that Christmas, when she opens a card from the Waynes that prominently features Bruce surrounded by not just his own children, but her brother-in-law, Connor, and her son Jon. Clark complains that Bruce is stealing his kids.

Diana frames the card. It really is a good picture, and Donna looks amazing.

#batman #batfam #dick grayson #nightwing #dc comics #jason todd #damian wayne #dc #donna troy #billy batson #Funny ramblings #bruce wayne is a good dad #Bruce Wayne has too many kids

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empressdede · 1 month

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Me, U & Jealousy - Chapter 1

Chapter One

“We’ll have Kayla give you the run around with how everything should be set up and she’ll help you get things going. Congratulations on your first day, good luck.” Eddie, a backstage producer had told me before walking off.

I was just hired on as an interviewer for WWE and I couldn’t really say I was that excited. Although this is a big opportunity for me, there was a couple people from my past who were here that I wish I could’ve left in the past.

But when my best friend, Jada, told me about the opportunity, I couldn’t let it slip through my fingers.

“I know it may seem scary but once you get acquainted with everyone, it’ll be easier for you.” Kayla starts as she takes over the tour. “Everyone here is very nice, so don’t be intimidated so easily.”

I let out a laugh, shaking my head at her. “Kayla I don’t think there’s a person here who can intimidate me. I don’t frighten easy.” It was true though. No matter how big, tall or muscular someone could be, it didn’t phase me at all. Not even a little bit.

Kayla laughed right back, “Okay, Good. I know most people come in and they’re so afraid to mess up because they work for such a big company; but I think you have enough confidence to do a great job.”

“Thank you Kayla, that really means a lot coming from you.”

“No problem girl. We’ll go around and introduce you to everyone backstage so that you can-“

“I know that ain’t who I think it is!” A voice called out from afar, and I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes. So much for keeping them in the past.

Kayla and I turned around to watched the entire bloodline walk up to us. Unfortunately I grew up with these fools, our parents were close and they always had us hanging out together. The Uso brothers and Roman were older so they didn’t hang out with me as much as their little brother did.

“We heard you was coming, but we thought Ma was just talking just to talk. Damn, look at lil Sorai.” Jonathon teased as he pulled me into a hug.

I gave him the hug in return but kept it short, pulling away from him. “I’m not lil Sorai, I’m grown now Jon.”

Joshua threw his arm around my neck to pull me into a hug as well. “She think cause she gain a lil weight she grown.” Josh laughed and I rolled my eyes.

“I’m a grown women, thank you.” I stated, pulling back from that hug as well. “I pay big girl bills now just like the rest of em.”

“Don’t think just cause you ‘grown’ you think you can walk around doing whatever. Joe on a mission to keep that whole locker room away from you.” Josh stated, throwing quotations around the word ‘grown’ as if it meant nothing to him.

And in reality, it probably didn’t. Seeing these boys did nothing but push those big brother instincts that they had over me back in high school.

They would run everyone away from me if they could. No boy stood a chance against these boys, and I wasn’t about to let them repeat my high school life all over again.

“Guys, Its been a couple of year. Don’t you think it’s time to drop this big brother act already? I mean We’re all grown now.”

It was Joe who spoke up this time. “Grown? You think she look grown Josh?”

“Nah not even a little bit, what about you Uce?” Josh asked, turning to his twin.

“Still look like the same lil Sorai from the playground. Ain’t that right Solo?” Jon asked his little brother.

Solo stared at me with the most intense look in his eyes before answering his brother. “Yeah, same lil Sorai from the playground.” He agreed, a small smirk on his face.

Solo fucking Sikoa. Damn I couldn’t stand him. Ever since we were kids, he would always teased me about every little thing and made sure to irritate my last nerve just to get a laugh. But it wouldn’t be like that this time around, I’m gonna make sure of that.

“I see you still can’t stand up for yourself Sefa. Guess some things never change.”

“It’s Solo.” He tried to correct but I shrugged him off turning to Kayla who looked amused from the whole interaction.

“Kayla, these fools are my wanna be brothers who tried to scare everyone away from me back in high school.” I stated, giving her the history of how I knew them.

“We don’t try to do nothing. We’ve successfully ran every lame away from lil Sorai because she don’t got time for heart break.” Jon bragged which caused me to roll my eyes.

“It’s a little too late for that. Listen as much as I would love to play catch up, Me and Kayla got things to do and I won’t be caught slacking on my first day. “ I turned around and started walking in the opposite direction of the group of boys to follow Kayla to wherever she had to take me.

“Aye Kayla, when y’all finish up bring her to our locker room so she can know where its at. That way we can play catch up!” Jonathan called out. Kayla let out a shout of agreement with a playful smirk on her face as we continued down the hall.

“So,” Kayla started as soon as we were out of earshot. “Wanna tell me the history behind that?” She asked teasingly.

Oh Lord.

_____________________________________________

Let me know watchu guys think so far. Gimme some love though😭🫶🏾 like, comment and repost

#empressdede #empresswriting #wwe #black reader #solo sikoa x black reader #solo sikoa x oc #solo sikoa #sefa fatu #sefa fatu x black reader #sefa fatu x oc #MEYOUANDJEALOUSY

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pixie-ass · 3 months

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Don't Say You Need Me - Jonathan Crane Drabble

Warnings - none except refrenced non consented ghost hands

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

It'd been almost 2 weeks since she'd last heard from the man she loved. Last time she'd seen him he'd been the one to reach out, look for her until he found her, to tell her he missed her and needed her back. Like always she believed him, blurred by the rose lens of love. He'd been there for a while, not long but a little longer than usual until one morning he'd left, with nothing but a few words of how he needed to leave and couldn't explain it to her.

Here she was now, laying in her bed, a comforter covering her from head to toe as she stared out her apartment window into the gloomy streets of Gotham. The tv was playing in the background, the news reporter buzzing about more criminal attacks of people dying from a gas poison. She could care less, a villain could come into her apartment now and strip her of everything but she wouldn't care, her heart had been ripped out again.

The moon was bright in the sky, but clouds would come and cover it again, leaving her in darkness again.

It was late into the night, but she couldn't sleep.

Flipping over, she looked at her small clock, 2:37, it read. It's been days since she'd gotten good rest even if all she did was rot in bed.

She hasn't always been this way, she'd been with many men before, but none of them had made her so sad to lose like Jonathan had. She'd been strong, never shedding a tear for any of them, telling herself they weren't worth it. But then came the doctor, with his charming good looks and stoic personality.

Lost in thought she once again stared into nothing in particular, lost in thoughts that kept coming. Her phone lit up, she zoned into it. She was getting a phone call. Sitting up, she picked it up, the caller ID was unknown.

Furrowing her brows she answered, "Hello?"

"Y/n, hello. It's Jonathan."

Silence filled the room, her heart leaped in her chest, from happiness, excitement, pure bliss. It was like the color had returned into her life once again. She was happy to hear his voice again, like a drug it lured her in and had her addicted everytime.

"My love, where have you been? I've been worried sick." She inhaled shakily, the news of his voice making her happiness overpowering, "Oh, i've missed you so much, Jonathan.." she whispered. She was now sitting up completely, the first movements she'd done in a while.

"I've been busy here at Arkham, you know how my job is. Lunatic after lunatic. You wouldn't believe how many crazies are in this city." His voice sounded the same, yet she could suspect a different hint of tone from his usual annoyed one, it sounded darker, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She decided she was imagining it, from her lack of sleep and time since she last heard him.

She let out a giggle, "Yeah, I'm sure, I've seen the news. There's a new criminal they call the Scarecrow, spraying victims with a fear gas. Another crazy you'll be seeing soon, huh?" There was a noise in the call as if a shift in fabric, "Perhaps if he's caught. I've seen him around the media, his techniques are quite intelligent though, the police haven't caught him, not even the infamous Batman." There was a snarkiness in his voice, his annoyed tone had returned, his tone almost sounded insulted at her comment.

She wondered why, then another question popped up, "Why did you call me until now, Jon?" She was now frowning, looking down at her knees, her heart aching in fear of what he would say.

"Ah yes, I called you because I wanted to see you, my darling." Her frown lifted, a smile replacing it as she bit her lip happily.

"I've been wanting to see you more than anything. When did you want to meet up?"

"I'm outside your apartment complex, if now is fine." Jolting up she looked outside her window, seeing him walk into the doors of the complex, her heart raced as she looked at herself.

She looked a bit messy from laying in bed, "Oh, um, yes now is fine. Let me just clean up a bit. Just knock when you're here please." He gave a quick response, as she hung up. She wasn't sure what he needed but now her nerves were getting to her as she replaced the lounge clothes she wore with actual clothes. Slipping on a small black skirt and sweater, she tidied up her hair as she heard a knock.

Opening the door, she smiled widely, there stood the man she'd yearned for, dressed in his usual suit. "Jonathan…" She embraced him in a tight hug around the neck, holding onto him like he'd disappear into thin air again, "I've missed you so so much." She exhaled into his neck. He placed a hand on her waist, he'd never been much of a physical person. Stepping back, she stared into his face, smile never leaving as she motioned him to come in. He did so, she noticed he was carrying a suitcase with him, she assumed he'd just got out from Arkham.

"Good to see you too, darling. I needed to see you again." He spoke, setting down his suitcase on the kitchen table. Her heart fluttered at his words, he did seem a bit different.

He sat down at one of the tables and she accompanied him in doing so. Staring at him, she noticed he carried himself with a new demeanor, she didn't speak until he spoke up first, "I'm sorry I left so abruptly. I had an emergency to see to. You know I love and need you, my darling."

She nodded, smiling as she grabbed his hand in hers. "I know, my love. Don't worry. I'll always be here for you, I love you more than anything."

Jonathan was pleased to hear this, he gave a smile in return. He knew when he picked her long ago she'd be perfect. No matter how many times he'd left, for months or longer, she accepted him with open arms. He wasn't interested in love or such things but that didn't mean he wasn't good at faking it, he was a master at manipulation and psychological abuse, he was only using what he knew.

"My darling, since you love me so much, would you do anything I told you?" He leaned over, running a hand through her hair lovingly, then moving to her cheek as he caressed it with his thumb. They both equally knew she would, she nodded, placing her hand on top of his as she leaned into his cool touch, bathing in the feel of it.

"Of course, my love."

"Good." He responded, leaning into her and placing a slow kiss onto her lips. She melted into it instantly, closing her eyes and taking in the feeling she missed so much. His lips were warm and he was perfect as always.

A small click was heard, but she ignored it, too infatuated with the man's lips to acknowledge or care. That was until a smell filled her nose, his lips had pulled away by now and she began coughing, opening her eyes she saw smoke and Jonathan had been replaced by a terrifying frowning scarecrow. She let out a scream that was quickly broken by another fit of coughs as she stood up, stepping backwards to get away.

A gruesome voice now filled her head and the room around her was becoming distorted, the lights flickering and dark voids and bugs crawling everywhere. "Oh my darling, having trouble?" The voices seemed to be mocking, she couldn't see him clearly now, only a terrifying dark shadowy figure slowly making its way towards her. She felt hands touching her all over. Falling backwards her body made harsh contact with the floor, she continued to scream, now crying, "Please… please stop, no no no.." she closed her eyes but that only seemed to make it worse as more terrifying images appeared.

"Your pretty little mind can only take so much. Shhh succumb to the fear! Come on my darling, let it all out. Let me see your biggest fears." The voice was tormenting, filling her whole head as she cried harder, the feeling of hands getting more painful on her body. She tried to rub them off frantically, but the feeling only worsened, she felt like she was suffocating. Opening her eyes the scarecrow was face to face with her, distorting and moving into terrifying faces straight from a nightmare.

"Make it stop, make it stop please!" Her words were coming out slurred, whines and whimpers being all that Johnathan heard. She was trying to crawl away, but not to much success. Jonathan could see it was affecting her greatly, he was pleased, a sinister smirk on his face as he ripped the mask off. She was showing to be a great sport, her fear was much more extravagant than he had imagined. He had used a lower dose on her to test it out, but she showed great promise in his future experiments.

Cooing at her, he caressed her face again, her eyes widened in fear as she was paralyzed in place unable to writhe away. Her eyes then closed suddenly as her body went limp, her brain must have exhausted from the high levels of fear. "You're okay now, Dr. Crane will take care of you for being such a good girl."

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life-of-a-rat · 6 months

Text

unreleased AU comics

since I talked a bit about an unwritten comic in the last AU post, it thought I’d talk about some other tma reverse time travel AU comic concepts that will probably never see the light of day (usually either because the joke just doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t fit well into my usual 3-4 panel format, or the pacing just felt off.

The martins (+maybe s5 Jon) on a walk. Jmart getting excited about every cow they see. S1 Martin says that while the cows are cute, he doesn’t understand why they are so excited. Cue Martin being ready to kill his past self

Someone asks s5 Martin why he has a “Jon do not touch” sticker on his laptop, cut to a flashback where Jon asks to use martins computer, Martin says yes. Several minutes later Jon runs into the room, the laptop on the verge of catching on fire just from being around too much spooky

some sort of joke about jmart getting spam letters from “avatars anonymous” I have no clue what the joke would be

Several short comics about Helen’s inability to understand time. (Door opens into bedroom, Helen yelling something about a pre-planned event, cut to jon whose just been woken up staring at her from his bed with this expression:

5. Jon brings in the most pathetic fucked up cat that he probably found in a dumpster. Martin: Jon are we sure that’s a cat

6. S1 Jon being paranoid af and snooping around, ends up finding s5 Martins dogshit love poems

#the magnus archives #magnuspod #tma #tma podcast #tma reverse time travel au #jonathan sims #martin blackwood

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leupagus · 20 days

Text

Really enjoying writing Book 2/Season 6 of this monstrosity, where instead of having Sansa and Jon fighting to regain Winterfell and all that nonsense with the "Battle of the Bastards," it's gonna be like 10K of Sansa being the Warden of the North equivalent of that mom who just needs FIVE MINUTES OF PEACE AND QUIET YOU GODDAMN KIDS

To the Lord Robin Arryn, Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East, and my Dear Cousin,

I write to you from Wint

"Sansa — sorry, Lady Sansa, you'll never believe—"

"Jeyne, you don't have to call me 'Lady Sansa,'" Sansa said as she looked up from her parchment. "You're the steward of Winterfell now."

Jeyne Poole, hanging onto the handle of the door and swinging it absently back and forth like she'd done back when they were ten years old, frowned. "My da always said the Lord and Lady of Winterfell were worthy of respect."

Sansa leaned back in her chair. Father had dealt with the business of the holdfast in the Library Tower, so he could wrestle with the accounts without being interrupted every twenty minutes. Sansa had always thought that a bit unfair, since it meant you had to climb all those stairs just to find him, but now she was wondering if she could perhaps build the tower twenty or thirty feet higher. The exercise would probably do her good. "Your father always called mine 'oi, you,' if I recall correctly."

The look Jeyne gave her was deeply unimpressed. "Aye, and you always complained about it. Do you want to hear about the cow loose in the guest house or not?"

erfell at last, which was the dearest wish of your beloved goodfather Petyr. His dying words were to express the hope that both his goodson and his niece be safe and secure in their homes, and I am glad to say tha

"Lady Sansa, Master Mikken has refused another dozen apprentices. He said they're all 'knuckleheaded clods who wouldn't know a round ball fuller from a chisel punch." This time it was her master-at-arms, who'd been Rodrick Cassel's round-faced child named Beth when Sansa had left. Now he went by Cass and looked like he could wrestle a (very short) bear if needs be.

"I don't know a round ball fuller from a chisel punch," Sansa replied, frowning.

Cass shrugged. "Well, and nor do I. But that's near fifty lads he's turned away. We need someone helping with the forges. We've been making do with the army smiths that Prince Stannis let us—"

"Prince Stannis?" He was going to hate that.

Another shrug. "We've got to call him something, milady. You won't call him 'king,' nor will any of your bannermen, but his soldiers give us no end of trouble when we call him 'lord.' So 'prince' it is. And he is one, too, ain't he? King Robert's brother. That'd make him a prince, right?"

Sansa answered with a shrug of her own. By the time Stannis and his companies returned from the Dreadfort, everyone in the North would likely have settled on Prince Stannis, which would lead to a great deal of shouting and probably threats of lighting people on fire, but she had at least a fortnight to think of something.

"As I was saying, we can't use the Baratheon smiths forever, and the ones from our bannermen have all gone home with their bannermen. Mikken needs apprentices, and we need our forge at full strength."

"All right, let's go speak with him," Sansa sighed.

t through the goodness of Stannis, of House Baratheon, and his masterful command of the armies of the North and the Stormlands, I am now secure as Warden of the North.

Not only that, but your dear cousin, my brother Rickon has somehow survived all the danger that the North has presented, while it was under the thrall of the Ironborn and House Bolton. He is now safe and I will reu

"My lady?" Maester Wolkan peered his head into the room.

#the entire chapter is this #I think she gets interrupted 7 times #and yes once or twice she interrupts herself with FEELINGS #but still have you ever sat down to do a task and just like - EVERY ONE AND THEIR DICK NEEDS 'JUST A MINUTE OF YOUR TIME'#Sansa's about ten minutes away from putting a sign on her door that's like 'don't bother me unless you're on fire'#and even that won't help because a lot of people in Winterfell can't read so it's gonna get real D.W. for her #game of thrones motherfuckers #got: bitches get shit done #lol eta to put in the blacksmith joke I forgot to look up

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cookeybg · 3 months

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Unexpected Cohabitation a JonDami fic

Before we get to the story I have a few words to say...

First of all, Hello!

Not sure if this will reach anyone, but I had an itch to write, so I did. I almost never post anything. I have reposted a couple things but I'm mostly a lurker and enjoy others creativity and thoughts, I like to think of myself as a cat with few brain cells.

Anyways, I read a manga YEARS ago and enjoyed it greatly and thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be funny/interesting if Jon and Damian were stuck in this situation?" Let's see if anyone eventually gets what manga I was reminiscing.

Now, this is the first time I've ever posted anything I've written and I am not confident AT ALL if this is going to be any good, but I really hope someone out there enjoys reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it...Also not sure if I should post it on Ao3???

Well enough of my ramblings on to the story.

Title: Unexpected Cohabitation

Main Characters: Jonathan Kent and Damian Wayne (some of the others show up too, the list is too long)

Eventual relationship: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne (my fave)

Stuff to know: No capes, reverse robins, high school AU, no smut, no Brucie Wayne, I know nothing about sports but it will show up, (aaand I think that's it, will add more if it comes up)

Part 1 - Chapter 1

Jon placed his lunch tray next to Kathys’ as he discreetly looked around the lunch room trying to catch a glimpse of his crush. He had only briefly seen him at the mall during summer break and in a panic hid from him behind a rack of clothes. He had regretted not saying hello and had daydreams of himself going up to him, all cool and complementing the brown eyed boy’s pink fluffy hair and then asking him out to watch a movie at the mall theater. Sadly, the daydreams would come crashing down when he remembered his mother placing shirts in front of him and trying to measure him up before heading into the dressing room. It’s not that he was embarrassed of his mom its just, he was wearing sweats and an old hoodie since none of his clothes fit him anymore due to his growth spurt and, well, his mom could be a bit much, sometimes. Throughout the whole shopping trip when she would meet an acquaintance or friend she kept gushing about how quick kids grew and how she wished they would just stop sometimes. Jon would have to bury himself if anyone from school had been exposed to that.

“Looking for Jay?” Kathy asked. Jon looked at Kathy like a deer caught in the headlights and immediately turned red. He sat down abruptly causing his tray to nearly tip unto him. He scrambled to right his milk carton before it fell. Once settled, he sighed and mumbled, “That obvious?” Kathy smirked and bit into her carrot stick making a loud snap. Jon squirmed while opening his milk carton, he took a big swing, pointedly ignoring Kathy’s stare. “Why don’t you just confess?” Kathy asked. “Confess?” Jon spluttered, “He doesn’t even know I exist!” “Jon, you two were in the same history class last year. He knows who you are.” “Yeah. But we never talked.” “Then, how about you talk to him?” That would be so awkward…” Jon bit into his chicken strip. Kathy rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. Jon smirked and leaned in conspiratorially, “But I have a plan.” “And that is?” “I’m joining the journalism club.” “What!” Kathy yelled in surprise and then moderated her voice when some people who she startled glared at her, “ I thought you were going to join the baseball team this year, since, you know, your not in a cast anymore.” “The doctor has given the all clear and physical therapy is all done. The doctor was very impressed with how quickly I healed.” “Will they even let you do both clubs?” “Yep, I asked!” Their conversation was cut short when a murmur spread through the cafeteria like a wave. The main players of the baseball team stepped through the open double doors, all nine wearing their letterman jackets. In the lead was the most popular guy in school, Damian Wayne. Whose father was nicknamed the Prince of Gotham. Who in turn married an actual princess from some far off land, giving Damian actual royal blood. Girls wanted him and guys wanted to be him, but from what Jon had heard, guys wanted him too. Damian’s bright green eyes stood out against his brown skin, his gold earring glinted under the florescent light. He scanned the cafeteria with what looked like a sense of boredom. Colin, Jon called him Damian’s second in command, had one arm casually draped around Damian’s shoulders gesticulating wildly with his free hand. The group laughed at whatever the Colin said, but Damian only smiled as he started walking towards their unofficial table. Colin and the rest of the group broke off shoving and cracking jokes at each other while making line to pick up food. Kathy whistled beside Jon, “Now he’s someone who doesn’t know you exist.” “He looks and probably is, conceited.” Jon said offhandedly. “Look at him, he has reason to be.” “Doesn’t mean it’s cool.” “Doesn’t mean he’s not hot.” Jon turned to look at Kathy, but she wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead she was looking in Damian’s direction. Jon looked around and noticed that many were doing the same. He dragged his eyes back to look at Damian. The dude sat straight backed, elegantly eating his homemade meal from some fancy lunch bag that was probably more expensive than anything Jon owned, and scrolling on his phone completely ignoring the many eyes staring at him. Colin returned with the rest of the group nudging Damian and dropping his lunch tray with a loud smack, receiving an unimpressed glare in return. Colin smiled and placed a fruit cup in front of Damian. Jon personally didn’t get the allure. The couple of times he had seen Damian interact with others it was usually acerbic. Somehow that did not lessen his popularity and it left Jon dumbfounded. I good person should be good to others and being polite was a given, his Grandma said so and she was never wrong. Jon shrugged and went back to eating his school lunch. The rest could keep Damian he very much preferred Jay.

I hope you enjoyed it! Will post more soon, hopefully.

#damian wayne #jonathan kent #jon kent #damian al ghul #damian and jon #high school au #no capes au #jondami #supersons #fanfic #fanfiction #should I post on ao3 #first time writing #i hope someone likes it #be gentle

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rise-my-angel · 11 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

10 - The Sanctity of Children

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

Length: 13.1k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, slow burn, pregnancy, discussions of pregnancy and child birth, funeral and character death, child death and child illness, allusions to past emotional child abuse, panic attacks, mentions of warfare, smut, p in v, execution

Notes: Things are heating up in this war campaign so strap in. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

The memory you had of turning fourteen years old was full of such an odd series of events that you hadn’t understood for a long time. Being in King’s Landing at that time was getting to be tiresome, it had been a year and a half since you had been in Winterfell, and in that time you found yourself in some hot water. Or at least, hot water for a girl like yourself who never opened up to a soul. You had been writing boundless letters to Jon and Robb both but it was reading one from the former that had punched you in the gut.

It didn’t say anything egregious other then a line near the end telling you he missed you. At fourteen you read that way too many times as a lightness in your heart settled in. Your father at one point had come into your room to ask what you were still doing up and you came way too close to him finding what you were reading, shoving it under your covers before he could see it. Insisting that you were just restless and couldn’t sleep yet before pulling it back out when he shut the door.

Smirking to yourself, you would wonder if he would be impressed with how much you had improved with a sword. You had also wondered if the ward in their father’s care would make fun of you or not though. The Greyjoy’s small rebellion lasted the better part of two months but it had taken your father away from you and into the sea to destroy the Iron Fleet, leaving Lord Stark and King Robert to sail onto the Iron Islands and end things swiftly. Part of the surrender deal was Balon Greyjoy’s last living son was to leave with Lord Stark and serve as a ward.

Robb had mentioned he had an attitude but that he couldn’t really blame him, instead he had sympathized with struggling to fit in. That was a year and a half ago however, and you wondered between the now three of them if whatever skills you had acquired would look like a joke to where they were now. Your cousin Joffery, the eldest child of the King, had told you it was stupid for girls to play with swords and that no one would ever want to be with an ugly girl who would fight too.

You had wrote to Jon all about the fight you got into with him for that one, how you had been lectured heavily by your father despite the fact that the most hurt he got was being knocked into the mud after a bit of a scuffle. Jon had gotten you harder far more times just training you in the basics. You had hoped he wouldn’t have changed his mind, wouldn’t think you were stupid like your cousin did. You hoped with a childish intent that he may have thought about you like you were him.

But he was already sixteen and no doubt had found far more girls his age, and far prettier ones at that to fawn all over him. You hadn’t even bloomed yet, according to your handmaidens no boys his age wanted to be with a silly girl who wasn’t even a woman yet. It was a strange feeling, and you had no one to talk to about it, you wished your baby sister had been born years earlier so she could at least read and write to you about it.

But you hadn’t gotten to fester in such a new, and first time crush for long. It was the middle of the year when your father told you. He said that at your age, you should expect to have your womanly blooding come to you soon and it was important you do not share that with people. He was strict when he sat you down in his office, telling you without room for question, “Do not come to anyone except for me. Not your uncles, not the guards, not your handmaidens. You tell me and keep it to yourself otherwise.”

He hadn’t said why, nothing about when your mother explained the process to you made it sound like a dirty secret. She said all women go through it, why was it to be kept hush you didn’t know, but you knew you were to listen. He wasn’t a man with much will to bend the rules, your father. So the day you woke up having bled through the night, you intended to keep that rule.

Leaping out of bed at the shock before you remembered what it was, you wrapped a thin overcoat around you to cover the bleeding nightshift, bending under your bed to grab a blanket you knew was kept there to hide the sheets before anyone came in. Only when you unravelled the blanket, one of the older handmaidens had walked in. “Oh gods be good, congratulations child.”

You narrowed your eyes but she walked right past you and stripped the sheets from the bed as you stood in frustrated protest. Glancing up to you she looked at your attire, “Get dressed child, you cannot visit the Queen like that.”

Your eyebrows raised and face twisted in confusion, “Visit- why?”

There was barley a chance to speak before she was shoving you to the other side of the room to get dressed. You had been the only girl the Queen could try to dote on for a while, previous she hadn’t had Myrcella yet and even now she was only two years old. Trying very hard to whip you into shape as a proper highborn lady of the court and always finding ways to make it so.

Unbeknownst to you, she had informed your handmaidens that when you bled for the first time, they were to send you to her. Using the guise of your mother not being here, so she would be the only to steer you into womanhood.

As you walked into her quarters, you could see little Myrcella on the bed. Her blonde hair grew long and quick as her mothers, done up at that moment into pretty ringlets on the side of her head as she played with an array of toys spayed out in front of her. The Queen herself looking far more immaculate then you ever could hope to be, but there was a kindness on her face that at the time, you didn’t have quite the right level of skill to sniff out if there was a degree of falsity in it.

Strangely enough, in those days, the kindness was genuine. Just not the agenda that came after.

Sitting you down at the chair across from her writing desk, she offered you some water. “The first can always be a bit difficult, if there’s a lot sometimes you may even feel a bit woozy.”

You shrugged a shoulder as you glanced between your glass and the Queen, “It wasn’t that. Just more...” as you trailed off she tilted her head in question before you finished. “I didn’t think it would be painful.”

The Queen was sympathetic, but the smile on her face was one of much greater knowledge. “Wait until you birth a child.” You could recall when your mother gave birth to Shireen, the only sounds heard in the entire castle were her yells and cries and yet when it was over she castle was still so quiet all could be heard was Shireen after.

Coming up to her bedside, she ran her hand over Myrcella’s hair with a smile of love that was rare. “She was a little easier, but Joffery was a whole new kind of pain.” Your brows narrowed as she so easily fussed with nothing in particular on her daughter who let it happen. “I laboured a day and a half just bringing him into the world, sometimes I screamed so loud I thought Robert would hear me even in the Kingswood.”

Taken back, you looked at her in question. “He was hunting?”

That fondness on her lips faded away into something less comforting, making her way over to you at the desk and sitting in the seat next to you. “Robert prefers to leave the birthing to me, and he takes his men out to hunt and kill and only returns when the labouring is all over. Like a trade of commoners, he gifts me pelts and trophies, and he in return is gifted a baby.” You felt an odd discomfort in your stomach, you would never describe your own parents as even remotely in love but not once did your father flee while Shireen was being born. “Not that I wanted him there, I had an army of midwives, Grand Maester Pycelle, and I had my brother. The midwives tired to tell him he couldn’t be in the birthing room, and he just smiled. Asking which one of them proposed to keep him out.”

A fondness in her eye trailed off as she looked at you, a more cold and stoic expression that was becoming more common on you here then the days you first arrived. “Your husband will show you no such devotion.”

Looking up at her, there was an innocent heartbreak in your eye that while she did not speak of it, she understood the life in the making. Cersei was a woman who loved her children with the only goodness in her heart that she had, and yet she knew you rarely got anything from your own parents. Not having met your mother but she could only imagine the kind of woman that marries Stannis Baratheon isn’t as much warmer.

You said nothing, biting down on your tongue as you looked away. “You will not be a Queen, my dove, but you are still a highborn lady and that means we are raised to have a very specific place and purpose in the world. Your red flower means that you have become of age that you can take up that mantle, marry a high lord and your new duty is to have his children for however long he has use of you.”

Your father didn’t even live on the same Island as his wife now, and she hadn’t been healthy enough to give him a living son in the years between your birth and now that Shireen was born. Was that all marriage was to them? Was that all it would be to the King and Queen once the woman in front of you stopped being able to have his children?

“You will marry a high lord, find yourself dragged to a new home you know nothing of and have his children because that is what ladies like us are to do. You don’t have to like it, but that is why they need us.”

Finding your voice, you spoke up with indignation. “Pardon me your grace, but you make it sound like it’s foolish to even consider trying to find a husband that would make me happy.”

A flash of something in her eyes passed once more. Leaning forward to brush a wild strand of hair from the front of your face. Impossible to recall now, but still a young girl, there had been a time when the Queen still had a place in her heart for you. Her tone was quiet, as if to hide form her daughter who couldn’t possibly understand her at that age. “I know you’re smart enough to see me and Robert for what things are. I tried to love him, and for a while I think I even did. I wanted it to work so badly in the early years, but it never came to be. We never shared a moment, an inkling or even any real softness that I dreamed of.” Your name came softly from her lips, “Women like us do not get to have such things.”

Sitting there, your hands rung together in your lap as your jaw clenched. An unfairly charming smile and long black curls that flashed through your recently blooming mind. Were you just stupid children that would never last? Would you see him again one day and he’s turned as cold and uncaring as the Baratheon men you were raised around were? Why did that hurt so badly?

“The more people we love, the weaker we are. We’ll do things for them we know we shouldn’t, play the fool to make them laugh, lie to keep them safe.” You tried hard to not think about how you lied to your father about where you got all those cuts and bruises, worrying that he would be mad if you told him the truth.

That Jon had started to teach you because you both just wanted to do it, wanted to spend time together. He wanted to teach you, and you wanted to learn but perhaps your father wouldn’t be as forgiving to such actions as Ned Stark was when he finally caught you. So you lied, wanting to keep him safe.

“You will be wed off, have your husbands children, but you should love no more then them. We have no choice but to love our children and that way the men in your life will never be able to hurt you. Not in here.” Her hand gently resting over your heart, like she had already seen a future for you that you were not privvy too.

It was that night that your father called you into his office, telling you, “Pack your things now, come dawn I’m putting you on the first ship to White Harbour, and from there you’re to stay with Lord Stark in Winterfell.”

You stammered, the idea wasn’t horrid but it was out of nowhere with no explanation. “How long am I to stay?”

“Indefinitely. I’ve send a raven to Lord Stark and he’s been informed that you are to remain in his care until further notice.”

Further notice, was two years at it turned out. Two years of spending time with the Starks, the new younger growing litter of Stark children, and finding yourself increasingly flustered by how much more mature that dark and curly haired boy had grown, filled out, and had a much deeper rasp of a voice then when you saw him before.

It was just over half a year before you returned to Kings Landing when he kissed you. He was taller, and much more mature by that point at eighteen, and your nearing sixteenth name day heart wasn’t sure it understood the tension between you until that night.

A game of hunting and hiding in the woods with all four of the eldest of you, it was late into the night and rain had been pouring down when he snuck up and dragged your back into his chest. Still playing the same and ignoring the strange beating in your heart you tried dashing off still, but Jon was strong and tossed your back against a tree.

You had no idea what he was doing until Jon had already begun to kiss you. All memories of Cersei telling you that your husband would never be a man who loved you left you that night, because even as a teenager, you knew that Jon kissed you like he already did.

But you were not two people who would become like your parents, or the King and Queen. No, you were just two best friends who spent from that day until departing on the Kingsroad in a love that you were never allowed to have. The world wanted you to be like them, and they married you off without the care of what came with it.

Your father didn’t care if you had a loveless marriage, because being in one was not part of your duty.

But as you walked through the ruins of Harrenhal the morning before now, it seemed like the moral of the men was only raised by such an announcement that stemmed from love. Word travelled fast that you were with child, and you couldn’t escape the words of congratulations and brimming air amongst the men with a “I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner, knowing how much our King keeps you locked away all to himself at night.”

The Greatjon was loud, but none of the following laughs were at you. All was a laugh with you, that it may not be a fight, but that the men found some ease of mind in the clearly good news.

Even as you departed, leaving Roose Bolton and his men to hold Harrenhal, there was a genuine feeling in his tone as you shook hands to depart. “I dare say, your grace but being with child suits you.” He chuckled when you raised an eyebrow in question. “It’s been a number of months since we’ve seen the King calm in anyway, and longer since you’ve actually smiled.”

Giving a small one at that moment, he then pointed to Grey Wind not far from you. “I think that one knew before even you did. Quite possessive wolves are known to be.”

Your husband would show you no such devotion the Queen had said, and yet the sheer amount of time Robb spent keeping you by his side with a hand somewhere on your person or stomach told you that if this wasn’t love and devotion what would that actually be like in the real world?

For Catelyn though, it was a struggle. It seemed like most of the major developments in your life with her son were in times of grief. Bran laying in bed unconscious after falling from a tower? You and Robb marry. Her husband is beheaded? The North declares Robb their king and you his Queen. And now, rumours that her youngest sons were dead and that her own father had passed away? You and Robb announce you are pregnant. You knew she wanted to be happy for a grandchild, but so much of it was written in blood.

A blood that seemed to be felt through more then just her, except that the other children’s blood that was spilled now allowed itself to fester and taint with dissent. Lord Karstark was becoming an increasing problem. Agitated, bloodthirsty and unwilling to temper his tongue even as he walked beside you and Robb. “We’re at war. This march is a distraction.”

Robb’s voice was cut with an edge as he didn’t spare the man even a glance. “My grandfather’s funeral is not a distraction.”

“Are we riding to battle at Riverrun?” At a no, he titled his head. “Then it’s a distraction.”

You could feel the anger growing in Robb, but he kept his cool as he was so skilled at now. “My Uncle Edmure has his forces garrisoned there. We need his men.”

Gods he had no idea when to stop, throwing both of you onto an edge that was bordering on insubordination. “Unless he’s been breeding them, he don’t have enough to make a difference.”

Robb stopped, forcing the man to look at him with a harshness in his face. “Have you lost faith in our cause?” Lord Karstark trying to argue he has faith in revenge, Robb narrowed his eyes. “If you no longer believe-”

Karstark raising his voice, you stepped forward to stand closer at Robb’s side with a tensity that he seemed to sense right away. “I can believe until it snows in Dorne, don’t change the fact that-”

Your voice came out more angry then you expected. Taking the man right off guard as he looked more wide eyed to your rageful ones. “Lord Karstark, I think your King has made it clear that you are stepping out of line. Out in the open is neither the time nor place for your ire, and it is not welcome either way.”

A hand came to rest on the small of your back as you continued. Your voice stern and face unblinking as you did so. “You may be free to see the funeral of your king’s own grandfather as a distraction, but you are not with the freedom to insult the man you’ve sworn your sword too.” Opening his mouth to speak, but he wisely chose to close it once more, noting the judgmental eyes of some now looking at him get reprimanded like a child.

“Your grace-”

“Where should we take the fight to, my lord?” You couldn’t see, but it took quite a bit of restraint for Robb to not smirk at how flabbergasted Lord Karstark looked. “You want a fight, tell us then, where and how should we take the fight to satisfy your bloodlust? How long after that battle do we spend waiting for you to get impatient for another? War is not battles and blood, it’s about knowing when not to fight and to stand and wait as your told.”

You felt an anger inside of you that felt like is was bordering on unhealthy, but the sheer hubris to stand in front of his King and tell him so uncritically what he thinks is a mistake would not be allowed. Robb was more then capable of handling Lord Karstark alone, but what kind of wife, a Queen were you to stand there and allow it to happen?

“I believe you had duties to attend to, my lord.”

Robb’s tone was firm, and nothing short of a command to leave. Both if your eyes watching take off as you glanced to each other before he pulled you around more to face him. “He’s only going to get worse, and I’m going to have to handle it when it does.”

Finding his eyes you could see the conflict of what was running through his head. Lord Karstark was going to rant and rave until he explodes and Robb isn’t going to shy away from serving justice that is deserved. “He’s forgetting it’s not a lord he’s speaking too, I think.”

Robb ran his hand around your waist, stretching is thumb to run at what he could reach of your stomach. “And I think if we couldn’t win this war, the Lannisters wouldn’t be trying so hard to run and hide from us. Lord Karstark thinks wars are only won if we find a fight everywhere we go, and yet I can’t even get close to meeting Tywin Lannister on the field of battle.”

You smirked, “Which says a whole lot more about your skill then it does his, if you ask me.”

Looking to the others eyes for a moment before Robb huffed, looking out to the camp before leaning back into press a kiss to the side of your head. “Do me a favour, and take it easy for now.” You tilted your head ready to protest but he had the charming audacity to kiss you before you could speak. “That was an order, my Queen.”

Raising an eyebrow, you gave a tiny curtsy which pulled a loving smirk from his lips. “As your grace commands.”

It was resting that you had found yourself approaching Catelyn. The look in her eye as she turned her head to see you, the conflict in them was tragic. Flickering to your stomach before turning back to the task at hand, only to drop it with a regretful sigh onto her lap. Your name coming calmly off her tongue, “I should apologize. I’ve barley said a word to you since Robb told me.”

You calmly walked around where she was sat at, finding your own space on a mostly flat rock to face both partially at her, partially to the camp around you. “I didn’t come here to ask for that, I came here because you’re in pain and it hurts to see you in so much of it.” Shaking your head, you bit your tongue before sighing. “I don’t think I’ve seen you like this since...”

Since the first time you came across her like this, now only a second child was added to the grief. Sitting the woodwork in her lap, she ran her fingers across part of it as the waver in her voice fought to stay down. “Rickon was so upset when I left. He was too young, his father and sisters left and then me and then suddenly it was only him and Bran alone without us. I don’t even know if Luwin ever told him why we had all gone either. And Bran-”

“He understood.” Her eyes were wide as they darted up to yours. Finding a fading memory back when this all was so much more simple. “When Robb and I left, he understood. He was worried, trying not to be scared in front of Robb. But not mad. Not upset. He knew you were all gone fighting for each other.”

Whatever solace she found in that gave her enough to swallow the pain. A tiny smile that didn’t reach her eyes Catelyn once more traced over the working. “Part of me wonders if I should be used to making these by now. If I did one for Bran and Rickon each, I might just be good enough to do it with my eyes closed.”

You leaned forward, pressing your forearms across your knees as you thought to Bran in that bed, how devastated she looked at his side and now all this time later the gods saw fit to test her resolve again.

Gazing over the details, you missed that Catelyn was glancing at your stomach. So far no major signs of change, but it wouldn’t take long for you to show she knew. “I made one once even before Bran’s fall.”

Looking up to her with a question in your eyes, you could see something not quite the same as the grief of now and then, but something a bit more conflicting that sat heavily inside her. “It was many years before that. One of the boys came down with the pox.”

A weight in your chest fell. You had told her of the nights none knew if Shireen would even make it, she was a baby when she caught the Greyscale and your mother was terrified it’d kill her before it had even a chance to spread. You knew too well what a mothers fear of her child with such afflictions.

“Maester Luwin said if he made it through the night, he’d live. But it would be a very long night.” Lost in the hazes of a memory as if she was looking down to one of the boys right before you as she relived the fear in her throat. “I sat him with, all through the darkness. Listened to his ragged little breaths, his coughing, his whimpering.”

Not knowing this at all, it must have been far earlier then you’d ever stepped foot in her home. “Which one was it?”

Catelyn paused. Looking at you before peeling away to look beyond with a burning bright blaze of shame waving off of her very person before she spoke. The words low and struggling to find the same emotions as before. “Jon Snow.”

A coldness flooded your veins, and your eyes gave it away without hesitation. Catelyn, it seemed, found no strength in the moment to look you in the eye anymore as a tear in her voice only served to rip away at your chest until she found your heart and plunged the blade right through.

“When Ned brought that baby home from the war, I couldn’t bear to look at him. I didn’t want to see those grey stranger’s eyes staring up at me. So I prayed to the gods, take him away. Make him die.”

You didn’t look at her back, you felt bile rise in your throat and plummet back down to your stomach at the words. Searching so far back to your mind, only finding the ten year old that you met on your first day in the North, one that was as curious of you as he was healthy. And yet...

“He got the pox. And I knew then, I was the worst women who ever lived. A murderer. I condemned this poor, innocent child to a horrible death, all beacuse I was jealous of his mother. A woman he didn’t even know.”

Her conflict didn’t match yours. Hers was with guilt, yours was in a horror that made you feel as ill as you had that first day you arrived, the kind of horrible twisting poison that sent you fainting to the stone floor of their home. Only you had nothing to see then, now, you only saw the face of the one you watched disappear for what neither of you knew would be forever.

“So I prayed to all seven gods, let the boy live. Let him live and I’ll love him. I’ll be a mother to him. I’ll beg my husband to make him a Stark and be done with it, to make him one of us.”

“And he lived.” It was a shock any sound came from you at all, you watched nothing but a woman who treated him as a stain on her own family, the pain that caused him to see himself with a self loathing for his own existence. A denial of any love that caused him to think the only life he’d find was shut away at the Wall until his death.

“And he lived. And I couldn’t keep my promise, and everything that’s happened since then. All this horror that’s come to my family, it’s all because I couldn’t love a motherless child.”

Comfort her was the tiny whisper of reason, she deserves to hear something from you but as you felt your hands shake in their still hold, you could only see him. You could only see Jon in the ice and snow instead of having a place at his families side. Instead of being able to stand next to his brother right now with the same respect that everyone have Robb.

Instead you could see him out in the cold, dressed not in black, and with those that did not look to be any Night’s Watchmen you’d ever seen look like. He didn’t even look as you last saw, hair longer and more wild, older and stronger looking with just as much conflict as you’d watched him be forced to feel living with the very woman next to you.

In an instant though, that image flashed to something else, flashing to a bright red hair, a pretty face and a look on her that you knew from your love with him in secret only out in the open. Something that was free, and pretty, and wasn’t a burden to him the way your position always was.

You felt sick. You couldn’t sit here and see this, you didn’t understand what your eyes were even showing you nor did you hear Catelyns concerned call of your name multiple times before you stood up. What you were seeing in flashes made no sense until they all came to something that you and him never had together. Something that you’ve had since him, but were never allowed to truly have with Jon but with this pretty hair of red.

Were you walking through the camp or alone in the woods you wouldn’t even have known at that point but this wasn’t like the dreams that came to you in the dead of night these were as real as the green around you. In a second that moment, that intimacy that made you want to cry was back to elsewhere with him.

Somewhere high made of ice, looking beyond the sights and just as a kiss was to taunt your vision it was like you both looked at each other. You saw him as clear as anything, and it was like he saw you to, sending him back in a shock before it all disappeared in a flurry.

Your heart raced as you stood near the edge of the camp before finding a small pool of water. Kneeling in front of you as you ran the liquid over your face and tried to wash away the sights of what just happened behind your eyes and the loud booming words Catelyn just spoke to you of.

Two hands grasped you, sending you flipping around in an erratic startle only to find the soft blue eyes of Robb as he gently grasped the sides of your face. Him muttering your name pulling you close as your hands hovered above his chest. “Hey, hey, what happened?”

Your mouth parted and eyes wide but you had not a single clue what just happened to you, and you had not even the words to begin explaining it. You just shook your head as you finally reached up to hold his face as he did yours. This you knew, this sight you recognized and the warm soothing nature of his voice, comforting touch and a face you’d seen every single day for two years that looked at you with the love you gave him.

Robb tried getting something from you, but your mind raced and spun and needed to be reminded where you were. Ground you in your life. Leaning up you pressed your lips against Robb’s and a calm washed back over your body. Simmering your nerves and veins as it all settled into the pit of your stomach before finding a home in the life you and Robb were creating together.

This was real, and you had to keep it that way. Not whatever images and nightmares and dreams were being thrown at you for so long now, you didn’t understand what they were and as Robb’s kiss was soft and coaxing, he pulled back to run his thumbs over your cheeks. “Tell me we’ll love him, our son, tell me that we’ll both be here to love him.”

Robb narrowed his eyes before something dawned on him instead, “Him? You think it’s a boy?” His hand running flat over your stomach and it finally pulled a calmer breathe of a laugh from you. He took one of the news, and was steering you to whatever could calm you down easier.

One shoulder shrugging you found the back of his neck to wrap your hands around. “Mormont says it’s why I’m so erratic lately. That it could only be the influence of a hot tempered Stark man doing that to my insides.”

Robb looked at you, and not that he would tell you in this state, but he had a chat with his mother later on about what on earth she had said to you. Little could she suspect what that would spiral towards.

In this moment though, Robb pulled you up to rest your face gently in his neck. “We will love him, together. It’s not just you and me now.” He massaged the your stomach in such a soothing manner, voice low only for your ears. “It’s us. All three of us, now and always.”

You two stayed there for a little while, him calming down whatever had just happened to you. That was until Greatjon found you. His loud, booming voice, causing laughter from both you and Robb, as well as the small group of other Umbers passing with him.

“Now that’s our King. Ready to give the lass a whole litter of pups before she’s even had the first one.”

Coming into Riverrun was likely the most North you had been since this war had begun. It was also the calmest place it felt, the river behind the castle was calm and felt untouched by the wars ravaging around all. The castle stood mighty, looking unlike most of the places you had been in years. The fields and ruins, or surrounded by small structures to serve as battlements in your more early campaigns.

It felt much like what the traditional castles sounded like in Shireen’s books. Tall but reasonable, not build heavy for a warmth like Winterfell, or immaculate and impressive that was the Red Keep and certainly a far from Dragonstone.

Riding next to Robb, you glanced at him with a curious gaze. The man in question catching you looking away with a small smile. “What is it?”

Shrugging as you looked him over, “It’s just hard to imagine you here, back then I mean. It feels like the longer I know you the more like a Stark you become.” Many of Catelyn’s children took attributes of her family strongly then that of her husband. For a long time, only two of the Stark children didn’t look anything like her, one for obvious reasons, but as you stood by Robb’s side you saw so much more of his father in him.

Perched tall on his horse, his hair lush and the diminishing light as summer had ended last year turned the colour to a darker brown then it’s highlights of red. Facial hair on him just as dark and well groomed but sat thick in a way you know your mother would’ve disapproved of for you. Eyes were bright reflecting off the water but they were full of a heavy responsibility that had you yearn to look at them even more. Perhaps this was just what pregnancy did, but lately it was like Robb was trying to look particularly handsome to drive you crazy.

Only realizing when he raised an eyebrow did you realize he said anything, shaking your head with a naive, “Sorry, what was that?”

He rolled his eyes with a smirk, “So, I listen to you but all you do is look at me like a piece of meat.” His grin at your playfully offended face spoke volumes of cheek. “I said I was only born here, I don’t even have any memories of growing up outside of Winterfell. From what I’ve heard about Dragonstone, you certainly don’t look like you grew up there.”

Maester Cressen used to say it was no place to raise a child, and in ways he was right. Built by Valyrians said to have done so using arcane blood magic, it was a sharp contrast to much of the kingdoms of Westeros. It was easy to envision Aegon and his sisters riding their dragons to plot out the conquer of a land that didn’t belong to them from the seats of volcanic rock that made the air smell of salt and brimstone. You certainly did not fit the image of belonging there.

“I don’t think anyone wants to grow up there. It’s dim and depressing and I’m fairly certain if I showed you my childhood room, you’d ask me why my father raised me in a dungeon cell.” You both chuckled lightly. The early days in your first visit to Winterfell, once you were back on two feet you had found yourself riding all through that of the wolfswood with he and Jon, you always surprised how far the North seemed to go unencumbered by dangerous terrain.

As the castle drew near, the only ones of your army that remained with you was that of Robb, Catelyn, and Brynden. The other lords would be given their stay once the family departed to the lake for the funeral. Edmure Tully awaited the arrival, causing a brief moment of looks shared between three of you in pause.

None of you had discussed it, but you all had come to the same conclusion as to what had happened, but that would be a situation for later. You could feel an annoyance inside that had you shaking your head to rid of. Where would this war be right now, had the instructions been followed as specifically directed.

Edmure greeting his sister in a quiet embrace, noting only two of them were here.

Lysa Arryn had been a headache. She closed off access from the rest of the kingdoms, keeping the Knights of the Vale rooted and untouched. No amount of bargaining from Robb had done any good and Brynden has discussed that many men within the Vale armies would side with him were it not for being under the control of Lysa. And now it seems, she didn’t bring herself back to the world of the sane to attend her fathers funeral, or let her son that of his grandfather.

Much of the funeral was quiet. In what you think was unique to the Tully’s instead of taking place spread out an a sept to be cremated or embalmed, the oils and stones were placed onto Hoster Tully before his body was spread out respectfully in a small boat, and doused in gentle oils.

A brazier was lit on the dock over the water as it drifted off. On the docks stood by the brazier was Brynden, near the back was Catelyn, then Robb and yourself. Watching from their own spots were a various number of people all there to see their lord off.

In the middle, Edmure held a bow. Hoster Tully’s only son, and heir to Riverrun it left him both as proper lord and the charge to light the boat to send him off in peace. The first time he missed, you glanced up to the sky. There was a slight breeze that he was aiming just off enough to steer the arrow as a miss.

The second time he did missed, you narrowed your eyes as it continued to drift further away without his work. Everyone stood in silence as he paused, taking a third shot and you know this might have been the worst time for it, but there was a slight awkwardness about the situation that had you and Robb, like you were two teenagers again, glance at one another with a smirk trying desperately to hide itself and failing.

Three times of misses and eventually the boat carrying Hoster off would reach too far and there was just a second of childishness between the pair of you that had you both looking down at the side sight of Catelyn’s firm gaze. You both grabbed the others wrist, as he almost unnoticeable pulled you just a bit closer to his side.

Brynden had to take over. Grabbing the bow from his nephew and looking up to gauge the winds, and with one simple shot, the lit arrow plunged into the boat and the fire spread out in an instant. A calm relief over the family as they watched until it was no longer within their sights.

For a brief moment, looking at that of boats and fire, you wondered how close he came. How close of a call to a much more hellfire version of this image did your father come to at the Blackwater Bay. Who you unnervingly thought, were the ones who didn’t make it and you had no knowledge of? Was it just your father that survived and the rest of the men you’d seen over and over again as a child were gone?

The words had mentioned that of green flames and wildfire. As the ceremony ended, you hadn’t even realized how you had reached across your chest to hold at your other arm, and noticed even less that your nails had dug into the skin enough to begin to bleed.

A crowd had gathered in the main hall, some of your men as well as that of the River Lords, on your way in Brynden had noticed your arm. Beckoning you over to the side as Robb glanced down with narrowed eyes. He said nothing, but kept an eye on you sat up on a small table as Brynden carefully wrapped up your arm.

You hadn’t looked up to the processions a single time as they all spoke, keeping a harsh eye on the trickles of bleed soaking through the wrappings. You hadn’t at all noticed how hard you were digging them in to that degree. Edmure standing near the middle, spoke of his actions in the recent move against the Lannisters.

The smallfolk were grateful, and in front of the majority, Robb allowed him the moment in the sun to explain his actions with a patiently controlled stare. “He crossed the river to give battle and we routed him. Maybe four hundred Lannisters killed, another hundred taken prisoner. The Mountain was lucky to escape with his life. They’ll think twice before picking another fight with the Tully’s.”

Brynden could see how much your jaw clenched trying to keep something burning inside of you. It wasn’t just a plan for Robb, it was a strategic manoeuvre to trick Tywin’s forces that Edmure had overstepped on. Did Robb say something? It was hard to tell but judging by the slight knowing smirk on Bryndens face as he tied off your wrappings, it was not a message Edmure was receiving.

“I will not stop until they have their justice. This I swear to you.” Glancing over briefly, Robb’s eyes landed on you before turning to the crowd. “I need to speak with my family.”

The gruff man nodding you over, giving you a light hand getting your two feet off the table as Robb outstretched an arm, bringing you over to his side. His own gaze reaching up to your arm, running over the bandage with his thumb and looking to you with a silent narrowed expression. You gave a tiny shake of his head, that clearly he wasn’t going to just accept as your shrugging answer.

The hall empty save for those Tully and Stark, Edmure begun to step forward to speak. “If I may nephew, I encountered a situation with one of my lieutenants at the Stone Mill, which may have some bearing-”

As your jaw clenched, and Robb reached down to gentle run his hand across your stomach it was Brynden who spoke up. His voice frustrated and exasperated as you felt. “Why don’t you shut your mouth about that damned mill. And don’t call him nephew, he’s your King.”

Edmure looking more casual then the tension radiating inside the room like he couldn’t feel it in the air, “Robb knows I meant him no disrespect-”

“You’re lucky I’m not your king I wouldn’t let you wave your blunders around like a victory flag.”

Robb was seeking your eye that was trained pointedly on his chest as he could feel you boiling up before him. Edmure did not make your frustration any easier, and the complete lack of comprehension only made Robb more angry and spiteful. But he kept it together, especially since you were the one right now having trouble with it, he took up that mantle.

“My blunder sent Tywin Lannister’s mad dog scurrying back to Casterly Rock with his tail between his legs.” Your eyes flew up, meeting Robb’s as he ran his thumb over your stomach firmer with a warning in his expression to calm your nerves. Brynden could see the words ready to spill from Robb’s mouth at any moment the longer Edmure spoke. “I think King Robb understands we’re not going to win this war if he’s the only one winning any battles. No, there’s glory enough to go around.”

“It’s not about glory.” Robb’s voice was not quite a shout, but it was loud and lecturing and caught Edmure off guard. As Robb moved to step forward he let his hand slid to the small of your back, gently keeping you within his touch as he narrowed his eyes at the man. “Your instructions were to wait for him to come to you.”

“I seized an opportunity.”

He was quiet and calm, and you were thankful he was better at this then you right now. Perhaps he was the only thing keeping you in your head. “What value was the mill?” Edmure explaining that it was the Mountain garrisoned across from it. “Is he there now?”

The man still hadn’t gotten it. All three of you in the room understood except so far, for Edmure who almost went back to being proud of his last minute scheme. “Of course not. We took the fight to him, he could not withstand us.”

Robb almost hissed at him as he narrowed his eyes at his uncle. The blue a much darker as his touch on your was firmer. You beside him with eyes sharp and cutting into him with something silent that was just as unnerving. “I wanted to draw the Mountain into the west, into our country where we could surround him and kill him. I wanted him to chase us, which he would have done because he is a mad dog without a strategic thought in his head. I could have that head on a spike by now.”

He seemed to pull you closer as he had stepped closer, as you gently grasped onto the arm your body was partially turned to face. Robb’s tone was like whisper but the distant look in Edmure’s eyes told him that he was starting to understand. “Instead I have a mill.”

Flickering between his own uncle, then to his King and Queen, he hesitate before speaking, this time much more uninspired by his hubris. “We took hostages. Willem Lannister, Martyn Lannister-”

You turned now to face him entirely as well. Only your voice went from rageful silence to offended volume that spoke louder then Robb’s quiet intimidation. “Willem and Martyn Lannister are fourteen years old.” A disgust that two teenage boys could be considered hostages, when boys barley younger then that, boys who were the King’s own brothers, were hostages and now found themselves dead.

Robb looked him in the eye. “Tywin Lannister has my sisters. Have I sued for peace?” Edmure answering a dejected no, “Do you think he’ll sue for peace because we have his fathers brothers great grand sons?”

Another no as you raised an eyebrow at him, “And how many men did you lose?”

You bit your tongue remembering the number of bodies found at Harrenhal as he answered you, palm pressing into your forehead at the image still. “Two hundred and eight. But for every man we lost, the Lannisters-”

Dropping your hand you stepped towards him, voice echoing off the walls as the image of the bay on fire tried painting yourself in you mind. “We need our men more then Tywin needs his.”

Edmure stammered, finding none on his side as the entire plot to keep the Lannister forces away from Blackwater Bay was ruined. His simple job to follow his King’s instructions would have kept those very men from being pushed back into the west. Instead, they were chased out early, and it wasn’t a far ride east to get to King’s Landing where Tywin finally sat with the power of the crown at his fingers.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Robb had no more mind for this, “You would have. Right here today at this gathering if you had been patient.” Brynden commented with his own voice laced with irritation as he looked to his own nephew that there seemed to be a lack of patience around here. Robb nodded to the man, “We’re done for now.”

The halls were quiet, not many roamed the castle that day and the ones who were there quietly did their duty or gathered together to mourn their loss. Much of Riverrun seemed to exist with large windows, letting in the light that looked out onto the greenery of one side or the Trident on the other.

Not much space was there in the shadows, but down an empty hall Robb turned to gently rest your back against the stone, a small pillar keeping your vision from being spotted as he gently grasped your cheeks and leaned in to gently press your lips together. Your hands reached up instantly, finding his neck to run your nails over as he kept his own kiss soft, almost comforting that helped melt your tense muscles into his.

Pulling back he pressed your forehead against his as he spoke in a low murmur. “I’m not telling you to not be angry, you have every right to be.” Another gentle kiss to your forehead, “But we will come back from this, I promise.”

Looking up, the ease of going from King to just your husband always surprised you. The way he could give you that soft look that was boyish and sweet instead of powerful and commanding. “I know we will.” Sliding a hand back down to run through the facial hair at his jaw before nuzzling there and pressing a kiss to the scratching surface. “You’ve won this war all on your own so far, I’m not going to let one man’s mistake ruining that now.”

He smiled, also looking much more boyish. “My wife is that confident, is she?”

You kissed him one more time before running your hands down to press gently against his chest, feeling his heart beat under the thinner material. “I told you, you were born for this.”

Narrowing his eyes playfully he nudged your nose with his, “Thought you said I was born to be lord of Winterfell.”

Looking up at him, you felt yourself lean back casually against the wall, pulling at him to come closer and join. One hand pressed against the stone beside your head, the other running across your waist, his eyes narrowing at the fact that he couldn’t just tease the skin by your hips. Not even letting you respond he playfully bunched up one side of your dress as he smirked. Leaning in closer.

“As much as I like you in these pretty dresses, I finally found something I hate about them.” Pressing a kiss to your neck and one right below your ear as he whispered into it. “Harder to touch you whenever I want if you’re always this covered up.”

Breathing out a laugh, you pulled him in for a kiss that you both smiled into as you ran your hand through his curls. For a little moment you two felt so normal, just a husband and wife sneaking a moment together late in the day instead of being the King and Queen with too much weight looking at you like it’s your fault it was all thrown onto you.

Robb gently holding your jaw to lean up more towards him as he crowded you closer to the wall, he would deepen it just a tad bit more each tiny sigh of need you gave into his kiss. Never pushing too far, but enough to keep you chasing his lips everytime he pulled back. And each time he gave in and kissed you right back.

Grey Eyes and Black curls travelled far closer then he had been in years and yet still so long away that you may was well existed in different worlds. The gods were trying desperately to tell him something, he was sure of it. High up on the wall, there was a moment it truly felt like you saw one another. Like your eyes locked in shock to see the other’s gaze on you before the image shattered with a blow of cold wind.

He didn’t know what they were saying, but he was starting to think that it was a message to stop lying to himself. The longer he trekked with them, with her, the more obvious it became how this had to work as long as he could keep it up. Then in moments like now, where he was so close to being able to trick himself into thinking this was normal, that it was fine, and that he wanted this, he would see you.

He could see you, feel you as if you were there and before his eyes and when the world returned to him, it was all a lie. It was pretending to be someone that didn’t exist and lying to himself about ever wanting this, or even being okay with it. And even worse, he had a feeling that you’d see right through how much he was lying to himself right away.

He was lying to every single one of them about his real intentions, and yet the lie you’d care about was the one he was telling himself. And the gods taunting him with images and sounds and feelings of you was just one big sign after the other that pretending to be one of these people, pretending like he hadn’t tricked himself into forcing an affection onto her, was just that.

Something had been trying to guide him onto what felt like the right path since he came to the wall, and with each passing day it felt like that something was warning him that lying to himself about being this, being one of them and being with her? It was trying to tell him, that was the wrong path and he knew it.

Jon didn’t however, know what seeing visions of you had to do with the rest of it.

The boys were around the same height, and clearly brothers. Dress them in the same clothes and one may think they were identical. On your person was a full skin of fresh water, and food sat down next to you by Olyvar, who was as good as your squire these days as Robb’s in honestly.

They were short for teenage boys, kneeling down they eyed you as the slightly more wide eyed one stepped forward before the other reached an arm out. “Martyn Lannister, right?” Your eyebrows raised at him, who now looked at you with a suspicion.

“How do you know?”

You shrugged one shoulder, “Older brothers are usually the more protective ones.” Looking over them both, they were slightly covered in grime but nothing else stood out. “They haven’t hurt you at all, treating you well?”

Willem nodded, but Martyn paused, looking at the things with you. “No. Unless your here to poison us.” The boys seemed to not be able to figure out how to feel about you, on one hand you knew you were the on the side that warred against their family, on the other hand you were knelt by their cell bars with food, water, and a calm and collected attitude towards them.

Narrowing your eyes at them impressed, you picked the skin up and gestured to him with it. “Smart. You’re in a cell, you’re being held captive and your familiy’s enemy comes down offering drink.” Using your teeth to yank the cap off, you took a sip and swallowed it down before reaching through the bars with the rest of it.

Slowly reaching, Willem took it with a gentleness and a nod as you found the energy to give him a little smile as he said, “Thank you.”

Tilting to the food beside you at Martyn, “Trust me a little more now, or am I going to be leaving you boys a little less food to prove your safety.” The boys were too innocent to be Lannisters, sharing a little look and with a nod from Willem of please, Martyn approached.

His hand reaching out before pausing mid air, looking at you with doubt. Blinking slowly, you grabbed parts of the food, sliding your fingers through the bars until he took it on his end, doing the same until all but their actual plate sat with them. Willem speaking through a mouthful. “Thank you.”

Martyn narrowed his eyes, “You’re Robb Stark’s wife.” You gave a gentle nod as he looked to his brother before turning back. “Is it true? What they say about him? That he can turn into a wolf at night?”

It was difficult not to smile, there was a childlike wonder in the boys eyes as they looked at you. In a way, you didn’t think that was incorrect. Something wasn’t the normal state of things, the way he could control Grey Wind like he was somehow part of him. “Is it scary if I say yes?” Willem didn’t hesitate to nod, a soft laugh leaving you a the look in his eyes. “They do call him The Young Wolf afterall. Such a name doesn’t just come out of nowhere.”

Martyn spoke up this time, “And does he really eat the flesh of his enemies?”

Oh it had been a long time since you heard that whisper about him. You bit your tongue to not smirk not wanting to give the boys a scary impression. You mostly came down here to offer food and water, and to ensure an answer Robb’s inquiry that they hadn’t been mistreated in their capture.

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Lion cubs aren’t in a wolves diet.”

You had only just gotten up when Martyn jumped up and over to the bars. “Is he going to kill us? They all say that Robb Stark kills every Lannister he finds.” Swallowing his own nerves down you looked at him softly. When you were that age, you weren’t worried about anything more then not embarrassing yourself too much in front of the boys. But they were here.

Tone much softer, more quiet but a sincerity you knew perfectly well you could tell them the truth on, “The King in the North does not punish a son for his fathers sins. For now, you two will remain here, but alive, and unharmed. I promise.”

They both looked to you, a relief in each their green eyes. Martyn shouting, “Thank you for the food...your grace.” You nodded once and turned from them. Quietly telling the guards you’ll send for them to be able to bathe in the mornings before departing.

Pulling you up onto his lap, Robb slowly begun to pull of your shift, his own shirt tossed off and his breeches undone as he carefully slid the sleeves down your arms. “I’ve sent word to Walder Frey, we agreed moving the wedding as soon as we can.”

Letting him pull it up off of you, he gently tossed it onto the pile with his own as he flipped you onto the bed, slowly dragging your underwear as he paused to eye the growing wetness between your legs before climbing back up to hover over you. “It’s the least he can do, Edmure. I understand to the people it was important,” your hands begun to run through his hair. “But we don’t win wars fighting the small battles. He led a small battle, and it led to my father losing a bigger one.”

Smoothing a hand down your side before he ran it over your stomach, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “He’s barley made a move since then, hasn’t he?” Shaking your head solemnly, Robb leaned down to capture your lips more firmly this time.

His other hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you leaned up partially against him, slotting himself between your legs. Muttering through his barley held on ability to leave your lips for more then half a second, “We have to be more careful,” Kissing down the length of your neck, they were nibbling and light despite his beard leaving burns in it’s wake. Burns he learned you adored the feeling of it. “Tywin in Kings Landing, we have to watch out for each other. Especially now, especially with this.”

His mouth leaving sloppier kisses down the middle of your chest until he reached your stomach, hovering over as he looked with a heavy gaze. As if he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have such a thing. There wasn’t even much there yet, a small bump that only Robb could see in moments like this but it didn’t matter.

His son was in there, your son. A sight which for two years seemed like a distant fantasy only dreamt up in the luxury of your short time in Winterfell. His blue eyes were bright almost like there was water hiding behind them as he pressed one more gentle kiss to the skin there. The tenderness of a father to his infant before he lunged back up.

One arm moving around your back to press your body into his and the other wrapping back behind your neck to seal you in a kiss. His teeth bit more roughly at you, opening you up for his tongue before he groaned. Feeling your hands gently reach between you to pull his cock free. Face twisting up in a sneer at your hand wrapped around his thick length, hardly letting you stroke him before reaching between you to snatch your hand.

Leaning up with blazing eyes as he looked down at you his own chest heaving as he looked you over, your wet cunt so close to his cock, the very start of a bump at your stomach and your chest that was turning as sensitive as your neck.

His free hand reached up, slowly dancing along your skin until he grasped at your breast, tightly groping and watching your head throw back at the instant spark of pleasure in your veins. “Is this the baby?” Leaning down you squirmed at his hot breathe over your nipple, “Making you this sensitive for me?” You swallowed heavily, nodding only to arch up with a cry as his teeth bit down as his fingers pulled at the other. His teeth gentle, but he yanked and tugged with a more sturdy force before grinding his cock along your soaked folds.

“Robb, please,”

Your vision spun around, Robb kneeling you up on your hands and knees. One hand roughly running through your hair, pulling it to the side as he bit along your ear. His knees spreading your thighs out more until you felt his cock slide between them. “There’s my good girl, letting her husband do whatever he wants with her.”

Your lungs heaved, your chest felt like it stung and no doubt you’d have a barrage of new colours surrounding them and your neck come morning. “I’m yours, please, anything you want...” He slid in with no resistance, his own groan buried in your neck at how slick you were so fast.

Taking all of him in one thrust as you cried out, arms shaking from the stretch and pressure inside of you. Pushing deep, he looked down at you with his hands tight on your hips, pounding forward as he pulled you back onto him.

The way Robb would flip, how earlier you both leaned against a corridor wall kissing sweetly like teenagers, and now he had you bent over in front of him like you were the whore he paid and he the brute to use you for his own cock. But worse was how you’d let him, how much you wanted him to treat you like meat in bed, because outside of it you knew a truly loving man was behind it.

It was as if this was the only times you had. Robb would keep you at his side, a hand on you at all times but he preferred to only ever have you in a bed. A long drawn out event leaving you both breathless and thoroughly spent. As his cock fucked into you now, one hand dancing between to rub and tug at your clit the same way he fucked against the sensitive part of your walls.

You moaned and cried and had no knowledge if you were speaking words that even made sense other then his own name as pleas. The first time you both came, he spilled deep inside of you as you were kept as much on his cock as possible, the second he painted your cunt and upper thighs completely as you shook from your second orgasm, that had you shake.

Carefully draping the sheets over you, Robb had turned you on your back, him on his side as he kissed you so sweetly, murmuring whispers of gentle praises and love as you came down when the knock came.

He pulled the sheet up on you as much as possible and wrapped it slightly behind you as he pulled you up to his chest, arm wrapped around your front and splayed his large hand over your stomach as he told them to enter.

What you didn’t expect, was his squire there rushing out there had been an incident. Somewhat had happened, and Lord Edmure and the Blackfish required both of your presence in the main hall. It was quite late, throwing on enough to cover the both of you as he led you to the sight.

Standing there, Robb stood partially behind you. You both seethed, your insides shaking in disgusted horror at the sight. Willem and Martyn Lannister laid dead, mutilated as they they had been forced out of their cell and into their deaths.

You couldn’t stop seeing the slightly awe inspired boys that had thanked you so kindly after you just showed them some kindness of your own. Edmure stood with Brynden with their own more controlled reaction, and poor Catelyn sat to the side like she couldn’t decide between looking at them once more and breaking entirely.

The rage inside of you was burning. Out of all the things he could have done, he chose the most horrific path of betrayal he could imagine. Robb’s voice was rough as he spoke trying to keep it even. “Bring them in.”

Tearing your eyes away from the sight, their eyes still wide open as they died in what must have been such fear to watch five men walk in led by Lord Rickard Karstark who had none of the decency to look ashamed. Robb looked to Brynden asking if that was all, getting a confirming nod in return. Your teeth gritted as you looked at them with no reason to hold back your contempt. “It took five of you to murder two unarmed squires?”

Lord Karstark looking to you with a fire in his own eyes that you wanted to burn out. “Not murder, your grace. Vengeance.”

Robb was never as intimidating as he was standing beside you with an energy that could strangle with how heavy and intense it was. “Vengeance? Those boys didn’t kill your sons. I saw Harrion die on the battlefield, and Torrhen-”

“Was strangled by the Kingslayer.” Karstark trying to justify what no one could. “They were his kin-”

“They were boys,” Robb’s voice echoed in such an angry roar to them it vibrated through your bloodstream. The men said nothing, and he spat out “Look at them.”

Lord Karstark nor his men behind him had any courage to do so. Instead he looked to Catelyn and did anything he could to pretend he was justified. “Tell your mother to look at them. She killed them as much as I.”

Catelyn, who had released Jaime Lannister once he had already been brought back from the escape that killed Torrhen. You didn’t buy it, and neither did Robb. “My mother had nothing to do with this. This was your treason.”

Yelling back at his own King like he had the right after what he’d done, made you feel like you were ready to knock the man into the floor. “It’s treason to free your enemies, in war you kill your enemies. Did your father not teach you that boy-”

As Brynden knocked him to his knees with a hit to the gut, you also felt yourself step forward on your own before Robb firmly grasped you around the waist. Tugging you right up to his side as you partially faced one another. “Leave him.”

Slinking his head up like a snake that never knew when to stop. “Aye, leave me to the King. He wants to give me a scolding before he sets me free. That’s how he deals with treason, our King in the North.”

You looked up to Robb as he did you, your eyes both with the same understanding that had him holding onto you so tightly. His hand almost coming around to your stomach, he looked down to you. Full knowing you were telling him exactly what he was thinking. “Escort Lord Karstark to the dungeon. Hang the rest.”

Finally you both looked away from the other, back to the spineless lot of them as one plead a pathetic case. “Mercy, Sire, I didn’t kill anyone, I only watched for the guards.”

Looking at his men Robb was confident and unwavering. “This one was only the watcher. Hang him last so he can watch the others die.” The man pleading the entire time as they were escorted out until Edmure closed the door, sealing you all back in the quiet with the murdered boys.

“Word of this can’t leave Riverrun.” Robb refused to let you pull away from him but slid his hand up to run soothingly over your back as he felt the tension shimmer down a bit. Edmure continuing, “They were Tywin Lannister’s nephews, the Lannisters pay their debts. They’ll never stop talking about it.”

Robb rightly refused the notion. “Would you make me a liar as well as a murderer?” Taking all of the responsibility on his shoulders as King, and men like Lord Karstark had the audacity to question his authority.

Edmure tried to suggest a compromise. “It wouldn’t be lying. We will bury them and remain silent until the war is done.”

Robb looked to him, his own anger trying to keep at bay. “I’m not fighting for justice if I don’t serve justice to murderers in my ranks. No matter how high born. He dies for this.”

Catelyn stood, trying to come to a sense that neither you nor her son would agree with. “The Karstarks are northmen. They won’t forgive you for murdering their Lord. Spare his life, keep him as a hostage.”

You managed to pull away, your hand pressing against your forehead as you exhaled deeply as you walked to the window. “That’s the solution, he murders two innocent boys and commits treason and his punishment is to what? Keep him here and hope that sends a message?”

Catelyn looked to you but found nothing to plead with just as she did the choice in her son. “They are loyal men to us, we show their family kindness and they will continue to fight at our side-”

You turned in place. Leaning against the window with your arms crossing over your chest. The boys right in your eyeline when you were the one to tell them they would be safe here. “Show too much kindness people won’t fear you. They don’t fear you, they don’t follow you. We can’t show that kind of mercy for this.”

Robb looked at both his mother and uncle with no room for question. “I’m not fighting for a free North if the kind of people I fight with are traitors and child murderers. Lord Karstark committed his crime and he knows his judgment for it. His men choose to stay they will not be punished for his crimes, but if they leave then it’s their choice as well to break their oaths to our House.”

“And their vow to their King.”

Your eyes met and in that silence, Robb watched as you nodded once. He was right, and you would stand by it. “Come the first light of dawn, bring him to the courtyard and I will execute him myself. That is my decision, and my decision is final.”

The bodies were taken from the room, and the remaining Tully’s left as well. Your back had turned to the rain pouring onto the river out in the dark when you felt Robb wrap his arms around you, pulling you back into him. “I need you to watch that temper,” Your eyes narrowed but he kept you firmly in his loving hold. “It’s not good for you, either of you to be this angry. You leave that to me, I want you calm and healthy.”

You sighed out, the sizzling anger still there but you didn’t want to risk anything harming your boy. Your hands found Robb’s pulling them to lay over your stomach. “You’re making the right choice. We can’t just fight a war to win, we have to fight and prove the kind of people we want to be in the process. And that out there is not it.”

His head leaned over yours, running his nose down the side of your hair gently. “You shouldn’t come. To the execution.” You tried to protest but he continued. “It’s my crime to punish, not yours. You shouldn’t have to bear the weight of my choices and theirs, when you’re in this state.”

Robb allowed you to turn in his arms. Your hands finding the sides of his face as he found your waist, running his hands up and down them. “My place, is by your side, my king.” Robb sighed out deeply, but his eyes were thankful. “I will not have these men judge you but not me for serving due justice. Your actions are mine to stand by, and I will stand beside you on this in here and out there.”

Leaning to press his forehead against yours, the weight of a love only the two of you could provide at that point was palpable. Leaning down, Robb kissed you once more.

The rain continued into the morning, refusing to let up as if even down here the gods understood the weight of the actions. Not many were present for it, not many needed to be. Two men bringing Lord Karstark out to the still dark court, Catelyn, Edmure, and Brynden to the side as witnesses with the few scattered who dared show, and on the main steps stood Robb, and by his side, you.

In every punishment there was a protest to do it with mercy or kindness, but you had shown those boys kindness and they were not shown mercy in response. Justice was justice and what kind of rulers were you and Robb if you showed that kind of mercy to lawbreakers.

Standing before him, Lord Karstark looked unashamed. “The blood of the First Men flows through my veins as much as yours, boy. I fought the Mad King for your father. I fought Joffery for you. We are Kin. Stark and Karstark.”

Robb didn’t blink even as the rain poured down. “That didn’t stop you from betraying me, and it won’t save you now.”

Like he was the lecturer when two children’s blood drenched his veins, he spoke. “I don’t want you to save me. I want it to haunt you for the rest of your days.” He looked to you, only to find the same expression as the man before him.

A voice full of ire as Robb commanded. “Kneel, my lord.”

His sword, strong and unsheathed as you held its holding. Robb holding the high sword, blade pointed to the ground with both hands on the hilt. Knelt over it slightly as he spoke his judgment. “Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold. Here in sight of gods and men, I sentence you to die. Would you speak a final word?”

A man with nothing to be shamed for blaming Robb for actions that were not his, and yelling of a justice he brought on himself. Your eyes blazing with a fury and Robb’s with an anger that fed his delivery of a Just King. “Kill me and be cursed. You are no King of mine.”

Robb gave one powerful slice, and it was over.

The only person to follow his rage out of the court, was you. His arm pulling you close and as soon as you both got into private, you let him take that rage out on you once more. You both needed it, and right now the only peace was found in the other.

Peace, and a gentle hand in the quiet of your bedroom running over your stomach with yours covering his much larger one. Nothing of Riverrun had brought any good to you both, but at least in this quite bubble, there was still a family that had nothing but love and promise surrounding you.

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

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lizard-queen-izzy · 4 months

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' "What do you mean you've never kissed anyone before?" Tim's voice cut through the air as they walked back to their desks from the canteen. Jon's hands flew up to attempt to cover his mouth.

"Good lord! Keep your voice down, Tim." His face was already thoroughly flushed. And if he folded into himself anymore, Tim was sure he'd be laying on the ground. Tim tried to stifle a laugh before throwing his arm around Jon's shoulders.

"Firstly, no one's listening to us. Second, it's not that bad. I'm just surprised is all, guy like you? Didn't you say you had an ex girlfriend?"

"I do. It just, never came up while we were together, I suppose. Probably part of why we're not anymore." His voice trailed of at the end. They were treading into personal territory, getting too close. So Tim redirected.

"Well! It's not a requirement, but it's fun for some people. I think anyone who wants should try it, at least once." They were almost back to the offices now, which meant almost back to working and Jon shutting down this conversation. Suddenly Tim felt the pull of resistance on his arm from Jon stopping. He looked down to see Jon deep in thought. He took a second to watch him. The way he twiddle his fingers while he was running through possibilities. The way he let his hair fall slightly into his eyes because he wasn't paying attention to it. The way his mouth twitched, almost like he was starting to mouth out his thoughts but not quite making it there. He was cute, Tim knew that. He tried not to think it, tried not to let himself get too attached. But he couldn't help it. He was starting to get equally lost in thought staring at Jon when Jon's next words snapped him clean out of it.

"Would you be interested in kissing me?" The words came out so easy, there was a slight cloud of uncertainty in his eyes but his face was set with determination. He was serious.

"Seriously?" Tim couldn't help himself, he had to be sure.

"I mean, obviously you don't have to. I suppose I shouldn't just assume. I think I remember you saying you like men, though I acknowledge that doesn't automatically mean you'll kiss any man. I just thought-"

"Jon! Jon. You're spiraling." He placed his hands on his shoulders, and Jon's focus re-centered to Tim's face. He was flushed, and he looked embarrassed again. God, he was cute.

"Sorry."

"No need to apologize!! I do like men, and I would like to kiss you. But not in the hallway right after lunch." He kept the tone of his voice light and playful, to try and keep Jon calm. It seemed to be working. "How about we go back to work for now, and at the end of the day, we can circle back. Yeah? Gives you time to make sure you wanna do this, and gives me time to find some mints." That time he earned a half laugh from Jon, and he knew he'd started to calm back down.

"OK, that sounds reasonable."

...

Jon had been staring at Tim for the last few hours. Every so often, Tim would feel eyes on him and when he turned to find the source, Jon would be turning back around or looking back down at his desk. Tim couldn't say he wasn't also aware of what he'd promised Jon earlier in the day. He'd scheduled a kiss with him like it was an appointment, but at the time it was the only thing that made sense. He didn't regret it, but he was starting to worry Jon was having second thoughts. '

_______

Have this very rough, first draft/stream of consciousness beginnings of a small fic thing. I wrote this this morning while waiting for my friend to pick me up to go pick up my book from Barnes and Nobel. And I can expand it into a proper thing but I need motivation.

This blurb is not related to the Multi-chap thing I'm planning, that is getting properly planned and mapped out and will take a Bit.

This is a Research Days first kiss thing, btw

#the magnus archives #tma #jon sims #jonathan sims #tim stoker #timothy stoker #jonsims/timstoker #jontim #ficlet #draft

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h3llrac3r · 1 year

Text

˗ˏˋ For all eternity ´ˎ˗

Theon Greyjoy x stark!reader oneshot

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Warnings: angst, veeery briefly mentioned light smut, death, hurt no comfort, violence, lil bit of gore/ blood ? kinda cringe honestly, Horrible writing, 08x03 spoilers but I changed the episode's plot a little

Summary: I guess there’s nothing more romantic than dying in your lovers arms <3

Word count: ~ 2.6k

A/N: my first fanfic!! English is not my first language so excuse any mistakes. enjoyyy the angst babies <3

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The Godswood. Considerably the most beautiful place in all of Winterfell. It had an almost calming effect on you. The beautiful weirwood tree with its blood red leaves, surrounded by more trees and bushes. It’d look even more serene in winter. The painting worthy beauty of the snow silently falling from an endless gloomy sky, coating the world in a small layer of cold white. Sometimes you’d sit on one of the center tree’s branches with a paper and feather in hand, painting the snowflakes that landed on the back of your hand before they would melt away on your warm skin in a matter of seconds. You also loved the stillness of the forest. If you ever felt like you needed space from everything and everyone around you, you’d simply go out and sit with the trees. You’d see your younger self running, chasing your siblings around the tree in the center and laughing together when one of you would trip.

Theon would always know to find you there. If you’d let him, he’d sit with you and just listen. You knew he really cared. Theon was the only person, other than your siblings, you could trust with anything. He truly loved you with all his heart and you loved him. You tried hard to hide it in the beginning, knowing your Father would not be happy if you married Theon rather than a successful, rich king like the other noble girls did.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.

Robb and Jon knew the second they saw Theon and you talking together in the Godswood. They knew by the way he looked at you and how his eyes would linger on yours. They knew by the way his hand would brushed against yours or how he would blush every time your name came up. Jon especially knew when Theon stopped bedding every woman that stepped foot into the Winterfell castle. He only had eyes for you and he made sure you knew that every single day.

'The prettiest Stark' he would call you. Robb always acted dramatically offended every time he’d overhear Theon say it. It was no use trying to hide your feelings from another. So you didn’t.

You still vividly remember the first time you kissed him. It was the night of your 19th Name day. He took you back to your room and wanted to say goodnight as you leaned into him, lips meeting. His eyes widened in surprise for a few seconds but he melted into you right away. God, he’s been wanting that for a very long time. His hand cupped your cheek as the both of you stumbled into your chamber. He started messily taking off your clothes and gently laid you down on your bed, continuing to kiss you. Looking back, that night feels almost like a hazy dream. Like something you wanted for so long and then you finally got it.

Theon taught you how to fight, even though your father strictly forbid it, saying “it isn’t Lady like to wield swords and fight men”. Theon didn’t care about what other people thought of him, as long as he was yours.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.

Now everything seemed like a distant memory. What once was, can never be again. You knew you would die tonight. You knew and you were prepared. Your last night with your Ironborn lover was filled with nothing but love. You made sure every inch of his body knew you were grateful for him. Kissing him everywhere from his head down to his neck, hips and thighs. You didn’t want a single inch of him to not feel worshipped and longed for.

After hours and hours of fighting for not only your life but that of the people you loved, you were now standing back to back with Theon, trying everything to protect your brother Bran from the White Walkers and the Army of the Dead, who you were completely surrounded by. They took small steps towards the two of you, slowly caging you in further. Frantically looking around, you swung your sword in a way of trying to tell them to stay away.

They all suddenly stopped.

Your wide eyes looked back at Theon confused, your brows furrowing.

“What are they doing?” He asked you with a two thousand yard stare,

You shrugged your shoulders at his question.

Then all of a sudden there was movement. Some of the Dead opened the circle they surrounded you in to show you who was leading the attack. The White Walkers. At least a dozen of them. This was it. This was the moment your entire life led up to… your death. It seemed almost ironic that it was in the Godswood. A place you've cherished ever since you were a little child. Oh how naïve you were then, you thought. Little Y/N would never understand what was about to happen but neither would you, probably.

You stared at the Knight King only a couple of feet away from you, him staring back at you. He didn’t speak, determination set deep in his cold, blue, piercing eyes. He wants to kill Bran and everything that stood in his way; to erase everything that had to do with the past. Everything that you were or ever will be. You couldn’t let him. You had to win this fight or die trying.

Theon was close by your side. You shared a look. It spoke more than thousand words or thousand languages. A look that said 'You know what’s coming next. Please, don’t be scared, I’m here with you.'

“Thank you.” You heard Bran say behind you, both Theon and you turning around.

“You are a good man, Theon. Take good care of my sister.” Theon nodded at him, his eyes welling up.

“In another lifetime.” You turned to look at Theon with teary eyes to see him already looking at you. “What a time it has been with you”

All you wanted to do now was crash your lips against Theon’s and give him a kiss that would last all eternity. A loud selfish voice in your head told you to just grab his hand and run far, far, far away from here. Leave everyone behind to be with Theon.

‘Run. Run now, before it’s too late. You’re not dead yet.‘

The voice spoke again and as much as you might’ve wanted to, you couldn’t. You couldn’t break now. Thousands of men gave their life to protect Bran. It wouldn’t be fair to either them, nor your beloved brother or your other siblings. Hell, you didn’t even know wether they were still alive. They might already all be part of the Dead, long forgotten and coming to tear you apart and make you join them. To say that you were scared was an underestimation. You thought you were prepared to give your life but now standing face to face with death, everything felt so helpless.

“My heart is yours forever, Theon Greyjoy” you said as you turned your face away from him and set your eyes on the White Walkers before you. You wondered if that right there was the last time you’d ever look at Theon. You didn’t want to think about it, it hurt too much.

Your grip around your dragon glass sword tightened, as you gritted your teeth and began to walk towards the Knight King with big strides. Time seemed to slow down as Theon watched you leap at the Leader of the Dead. He whispered silent prayers.

"Let her be okay and let them take me instead." He repeated it like a mantra.

You let out a scream as the blade of your sword came inches from piercing his icy blue skin. He looked deep into your eyes, as his hand found it’s way to your neck, before your weapon could ever come in contact with his skin. Your body was dangling in the air, your feet kicking wildly like a deer caught in a trap, desperate for an escape. A small smile of triumph appeared on the White Walkers lips when you dropped your sword. You let out a strangled choke as his second hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off your air. You tried clawing at his hands and face but no use. You were soon to join his Army of the Dead.

Theon watched frozen in horror as the Knight King slowly but surely started suffocating you. Without one more moment of hesitance he charged at the creature that was about to take you from him. Everything happened in the matter of seconds. You were roughly tossed aside and immediately took a deep breath as you felt the cold winter air enter your lungs again. A feeling you almost thought forgotten in the previous moments. Having hit your head while being tossed to the side, you were feeling disoriented and dizzy for a few short moments. The metallic taste in your mouth made you spit. The red seeping into the white of the snowy forest ground.

A loud squelch sound snapped you back into reality. Your head shot up as your eyes widen in horror. You watched as the Knight King plunged Theon’s broken spear into his abdomen. A place where your body rested on top of, only a few hours prior. You let out a gut wrenching scream as your tears spilled freely from your eyes. Theon’s eyes locked with yours. You could see his trembling lips parting, trying to tell you something before blood spilled from his mouth.

He started coughing and you didn’t waste a second in picking up a dragon glass dagger from one of the dead soldiers around you and running up to the King once more. This time you managed to catch him off guard and sinked the dagger deep into the left side of his neck. You twisted it, before pulling it out and ramming it back in his throat again. The Night King roared in pain, which almost sounded like a wounded animal. But no pain of his would ever compare to losing Theon. You, along with every soldier of the Army of the Dead fell to the ground. You watched as every single White Walker turned into icy shards, perishing completely.

You killed the Knight King, all the other White Walkers, the Army of the Dead and saved Bran. You did what you were supposed to. You saved the seven kingdoms. But you couldn't think about that right now. Not when Theon was bleeding out just a few feet from you. None of it will ever matter if he’s not by your side.

He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die.

You kept repeating those 3 words in your head over and over, trying hard to convince yourself that everything was just a cruel nightmare.

You called out his name as you ran to his side, gently picking up his head and placing it on your thighs.

"I'm here with you. Don't you worry, You'll be alright" You told him as you caressed his cheek. He looked up at you through teary eyes, knowing his end was near. His brows scrunched up in pain and he coughed up more of his blood. You started applying pressure to his stab wound, just like Brienne always taught you. Her words rang through your head 'Y/N, if you ever get hurt, you need to stop the bleeding, as best as you can. Stop the bleeding, stay awake and get help.'

"HELP ME PLEASE. SOMEONE, oh god- I NEED HELP!!" you screamed as loud as you could, hoping someone- anyone would hear your desperate cries.

"You need to stay awake for me, okay? We'll be alright, i just need you to hold on a little longer. I promise you will be okay, i promise you..." But your words rang hollow. You felt Theon's bloody hand on your cheek and you looked at him. Really looked at him. He is tired. His face pale, his eyes glassy and his hand shaking. He just smiled at you and gripped your face a bit tighter, fearing he would lose the feeling in his hands soon as they slightly began to tingle. Your face, now covered in his blood from his hand, leaned into his touch. You kissed his hand.

"I don't- I can't lose you, Theon. I can't."

"shhh. It's alright Y/N. I promise you I’ll find you in every lifetime…"

“No, you don’t need to. You have me in this lifetime-“

His smile never faltered.

“I love you, Theon.” You said, the world becoming a blur through teary eyes.

You leaned down to kiss him. You didn’t want it to be your last kiss. You thought about all the lasts you experienced in the past days without even knowing it. Yesterday was the last time you would fall asleep and wake up next to him. Two days ago was the last time you would ever draw him. Three days ago was the last time he would ever pick your favourite flowers for you. He would never attend another one of your Name days or train with you, sing, dance, laugh or cry with you. You noticed how short-lived your time with him was. If you wouldn’t have been so fucking stubborn, you could’ve told him how you felt sooner. You could’ve had him longer. You should’ve never allowed him to fight for Winterfell. He should’ve stayed on the Iron Islands with Yara. He should’ve left you to die here. You deserved it, not him.

He still held your face in his hands, tears falling down his cheeks.

“I love you. You are the best thing that has happened to me. I do not regret a thing- whe- when everything I did…led me into your arms.”

He was slowly choking on his own blood as he continued to cough violently, the red spilling from his lips.

You helplessly looked around, sobbing, screaming, waiting for a miracle to happen, but no god answered.

You cradled him in your arms, slowly rocking him back and fourth like a mother would with her child. You hand caressed his hair and his face and you forced yourself to smile at him

“It’s okay, it’s okay, my love. You can let go now. I’m safe.”

Every word broke you more than the last but that’s what he needed to hear. You are safe. You did it. You’ve won. Like Bran said, he’ll take care of you now, just not from here but rather from above.

You felt his body go limp in your arms. His eyes lost that little twinkle he always had, when looking at you. They were still open as he slowly grew colder in your arms. His usually rosy, warm skin turned into a soft blue beneath your fingertips. He no longer looked alive.

Your head sank into his chest as you sobbed your heart out. You screamed his name.

You faintly heard someone call out your name.

“Y/N? Y/N! Oh gods!” The voice turned into two voices. You jumped as you felt a hand on your shoulder and turned around to see Jon and Arya.

“Jon?” Your voice hoarse from all the screaming. “Jon, he’s dead,” you said without any emotion. You felt numb. Jon took you into his arms. Sansa came running to you and stopped dead in her tracks. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth in shock.

Jon apologized over and over, crying for the both of you. Sansa and Jon pulled you away from Theon’s body and hugged you again.

Theon Greyjoy was gone for all eternity and nothing could ever bring him back.

#game of thrones #theon greyjoy #theon greyjoy x reader #GoT #theon greyjoy x you #theon greyjoy imagine #theon greyjoy oneshot #asoiaf fic #theon Greyjoy angst #game of thrones angst #game of thrones x reader #theon/reader

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