#It’s not selfish or a crime or whatever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rise-my-angel · 1 day

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

47 - Into the Haunted Forest

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

Length: 16k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, character death, disturbing imagery and violence, non descriptive animal death, past trauma, mild illness, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v

Notes: The first scene of this chapter does not necessarily take place at the same time that the main chapters contents take place in. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The night had been calm. Sky was dark and stars white and bright, visible with not a cloud to fog their vision of the lands below. The wind was hardly there for once, and not a speck nor sign of rain or snow meant that peace could be found. Or, it should have been found. As it was, that calmness, that serene quiet and clear skies were a lie with what laid below. The longer footsteps walked through the empty halls, the more the silence turned to muffles, which turned to the source of disturb in their home as the doors to the outside were opened.

Their shores should never have been used for such a purpose. It was an insult, a sin, a spitting on the only god they should be serving and yet it now was the sight of something red and terrible. Fear and pleading, they were chosen for no crime. Not weak men, nor selfish or stupid. They were as good as the rest of them and yet they stood on the pyres, hands forcing them tied around the poles, and wood placed just enough on the rocky shores that the waters tide would not touch them.

Torches were lit in hands of those foolish enough to believe whatever this was. Orders of a King and yet it went against what they were. This was not spoken of in the promises made when they chose him. It was all making sense until some months ago. Many travelling to here or there, and plans for more made until those months passed and something had changed. Something that changed the man from determined to a darkness growing more and more to be feared.

It was confusing for many of them, and it would only be revealed as much as he wanted to reveal it, which until tonight, had been none. The original plan was supposed to be their only one. Daenerys Targaryean had dragons, claimed to be a Queen, had vast armies, it made sense for a man like their King to come up with. This did not. Her dragons were still sought after, but the plan had changed from being sent away to find her, to leaving some place as opposite of the Slave cities of Essos as could be. But, as they walked, they knew it was their Uncle who was King, it did not matter if it didn't make sense to them.

Yara knew she had to obey whatever command she was given. Euron Greyjoy ruled the Salt Throne, not her.

Personally, she had no affinity for the Targaryean girl or her dragons. Yara was Ironborn, and their power came from their ships. Dragons were air and land and fire, not ships and water and the freedom to sail and take whatever. Raiding and taking what they need wasn't possible when one would burn said lands to take it in the first place. It wasn't sustainable, there was no end there that made sense.

But, Euron didn't make sense. He returned home from over a decade of exile as a man she did not recognize. He was rambling, and crazed, yet terrifying in his confidence of the psychotic things pouring out of his mouth. Stories she didn't know if she should believe. He hadn't made sense since he stepped back on Pyke, and it continued to not make sense as Yara walked down to the shores of her home.

Only now were she and her Uncle Victarion given details on what the new plan entailed. Who they were now tasked with finding and bringing to Euron. The only Queen which mattered he had put it, but then that witch had showed up. Slunk into the room and tried seducing words to offer one last thing before Yara, Victarion and their men departed. An offering.

It was that offering Yara approached now. The very red witch's voice loud as she stood before the pyres with Euron standing tall without question beside her. “Here us now. Accept these tokens of our faith my Lord, and lead us from the darkness.”

The men on the pyres did not beg mercy, and yet each step Yara took towards the shore did she wish to give it to them. Bloodshed was their livelihoods, but this was not bloodshed. This was cruelty and torture with nothing to gain from it. She briefly wondered if these thoughts would show her weak, but as she came to the side of her Uncle Victarion, he held the same expression. One which felt as doubting as hers as they glanced to one another.

Euron was their King, and they would let this happen, they would follow their orders, but they both felt as if whatever path this was leading them on, was going to be a war they cannot win.

Half around listened intently to the words this witch was speaking, the other half standing as unsure as the two of them were. Euron had not even shifted once. He didn't look even remotely affected by what he was about to do. Continuing the witch spoke in reverence, “Lord of Light show us the way, yours are the stars that guide us.”

He hadn't done anything like this when the plan was to find the Targaryean girl. What was it about this one though that demanded such extremes? Why was she so necessary it warranted this? But Euron had told them, she had plenty of time to come to him herself. So now they must do as Ironborn live by, take what they need. And to Euron, he only needed her. Nothing else mattered, not the morals nor the cost.

“Lord of Light, protect us.” Euron watched, his uncovered eye bright and certain with almost a hint of a smirk on his face at how little he cared about the horror he was to allow. Yara and Victarion shared one more glance, before watching the witch give her final words acting as command. “For the night is dark and full of terrors.”

In an instance, the pyres were properly set alight, and their visions all were taken over by reds and oranges of flames taking those consumed by them. Their screams did not last long, but they echoed in Yaras ears even in the silence which followed. Euron had not flinched, or moved or blinked the entire time. Whatever the reason he wanted this girl, he seemed to think this was worth it. Yara disagreed. No one person was worth this.

All passed her by, one by one returning to the warmth of the castle walls until only Victarion by her side remained. His voice was low, and hiding the doubt in them despite none else there left to hear. “I dare not think what Damphair would say, knowing what has become of us.”

Yara pretended as he did, neither voicing their doubts despite it being felt thick between them. “Have you seen him?” His silence was her answer. Face falling into somewhat of a grimace, she shook her head slightly. “This isn't who were are, uncle.”

Victarion knew that, but he gave her the only answer he could. A lie. “It wasn't once. But it is now.”

Only she was left. The fires dimming eventually into a smouldering of embers, and Yara could only think to herself that she could not decide which she wanted to feel more. If she should feel guilty she gave up on rescuing her brother as she once declared, as she now wished he was here to give any comfort to her ragged soul. Or if she was thankful she abandoned him that night, so he wasn't here to see this.

Theon would be ashamed if he knew this was what his big sister had allowed their fathers Kingdom to become. Yara knew she deserved it, she felt ashamed too. But still, once the sun rose in the sky, she had gathered her men as Victarion did his to prepare regardless of the guilt and doubt.

They had a long, cold journey ahead of them, and she had a feeling this King in the North would not let them take you from him without a fight.

For something so quick on it's feet, he moved very slowly with a trepidation which was exhausting for any to watch. The small dips within the snow creeping ever so closer to where he was sniffing out what he should not sense as danger, and yet there he paced. Taking every inch of time there was to do so. Such an amount of time taking to approach it, one would think it was smart enough to sense a trap by that point.

The little fox was not quite as clever as he was quick, and within a single breath of a wrong step did a whoosh rush through the air as sharp ends clamped down as planned. The brightness of the snow at least provided an easy way to monitor movement patterns out here for small prey, and thus far all five laid traps had given something to varying degree of sizes.

Not particularly heavy the fox was, easy to tie ends of thin ropes around two legs at a time and looping it around to much more easily lunge over a shoulder. Human footprints in the shape of boots were not the only ones leaving the scene, but a very large pair of ones owned to a wolf followed with a huff on it's breath as if to grab attention.

The hand reaching out to run along their ears and top of their head didn't last long against the affectionate shake of the wolfs head before a laugh followed. “You can wait the time it will take to cook it.” Only when the wolf did not ease up on their intending want, a small chunk of meat kept in a small side pocket, hidden away under the sheepskin fur, was brought out and tossed their way, the wolf gleefully catching it in his mouth.

A sigh and shake of a head, the wolf at least found content for now. Climbing up the remainder of the snow covered hillside, mostly forest surrounded but there were clearings such as the one coming into view which showed a grander image then preciously imagined.

Mountains which sat far in the distance looked like they spanned on forever, snowy peaks which bled down to the tops of the trees of the forest which seemed to go on for as long. Down below though, the clearing in the most immediate view was as strange as it was becoming familiar in it's own way. The remains of a small camp having mostly been cleared away, packed up on the two horses which seemed unaffected by the cold around them.

Still going strong, the fire which had been in the centre of the scene the night before burning bright with the last remains of firewood to add to it still sitting close by. The figure knelt by the fire had their head down, working away at an animal, large and immobile laid out in front of them, half of it's skin already being sliced away with ease. The wolf trotted down happily to join, only then causing the figure to glance up to the approacher.

The moment he could see more up close, you knew without a doubt already Jon was forming something far more clever to say then the still early hours of the morning should permit.

Whatever natural ability to tease and poke fun at you existed naturally in his blood, was now tenfold. Utterly relentless he could be now that there was none to hear him tease you but two horses, and Ghost. Not a soul existed for miles, not a scrap of human life was left in the fortnight you had been travelling.

Not yet words shared, as he paused in his work to pass a sharp knife to you. Ghost settling somewhat by the fire between you both as you each continued on in the quiet. Only to have you drop the movement of your hands barley able to begin removing the skin, when his voice finally found itself far more teasing then you expected. “Does five small things win or lose against me getting this one and dragging it back on my own?”

Your eyes rolled up to the sky with a grin, knowing the moment you dropped back to look at him in an amused incredulity, Jon was failing horrendously at covering up his own smirk. “Not even five minutes passed this time.”

The confidence in his voice was both well earned and yet only there to serve as mocking towards you, knowing how easy it was for him to do. “I wasn't making fun of you, I was asking a question-”

Shaking your head, you looked back down to the animal in front of you, trying very hard not to be weak and tear your gaze right back to his teasing one. “You're the one who told me to handle the traps, Snow. It isn't my fault I keep losing.”

Jons audacity to genuinely kneel there and say to you, “I never said you lost.”

Biting your tongue could barley even contain the grin trying so desperately to poke back out. Purposely now not looking at him, knowing it would only serve to amuse him more. “Perhaps if I too was strong enough to pull a bloody deer all the way back on my own, you'd finally lose once in a while too.” His voice barley rasped out before you raised your voice ever so slightly, in an almost childish defence knowing what was about to be said. “If you say anything about my fragile state, Jon, I swear to all the gods,”

His laugh gracing your ears was nothing but welcome. Only just flickering your eyes up enough to catch his, noting he had shamelessly not stopped watching you. Not even moving back to his own work, just looking far to adoringly at you for your own good, or health.

“Were you this touchy last time?”

You had not the foresight to notice he had walked you right up to the edge of a trap and gleefully watched you fall right into it regardless. Mouth falling open in offence, you tore your eyes back up in a narrowing glare. “First you make fun of me, and now you say I'm being sensitive-”

He had too much energy this early, it wasn't fair. “I didn't say you were sensitive, I asked of you were touchy last time.”

Your head dropped, almost dramatically and he laughed once more. Muttering under your breath as you returned to work. “That entirely depends.” Asking on what, you raised your eyebrows unknowing he once more was guiding you to just the right ends to make fun of you. “On how much more or less you'll keep this going depending on my answer.”

Jon said it with such a flat tone you almost found it in you to laugh, yourself. “So you were this touchy.”

Sighing deeply, you shook your head slightly glancing back up and Jon had purposely returned to the deer in front of him. Catching only your eyes with a playful glint before looking back down. Your attention glancing over to Ghost, who was relaxed as could be watching it all play out. “I thought we were a team.”

Letting out a tiny huff as he only rested his head down more, Jon laughed again. That time your eyes rolled into the back of your head, now trying to ignore them both. There was work to be done before leaving, and Jon would keep you here going back and forth far longer then time should permit.

Not that time wasn't all you had out here.

By all estimations, only a fortnight had passed. The first days of it were as unremarkable as they somehow were the toughest. Getting used to being out in such cold without any stop was something you were not yet used too. Even a building of four stone walls around a person and no fire would have done more to keep the cold out then nothing at all.

You didn't complain, but the chill sat in your bones for those early days passed. Naturally, it was as if it bothered Jon none. He didn't even seen to notice any difference of cold out here then he would in the North of his home, tending to this exactly the same but out in this open. Or, somewhat open.

The Haunted Forest went on and on for most of the known lands of beyond the Wall. It was where much travelling would be done until nearing the mountain ranges leading to the Fist of the First Men, but that was not for a while would you two get there. So for now, it was a vast array of snowy woods and forests that gave strange sight to an endless land you knew nothing about.

Once lands you heard about in stories, of dangerous creatures roaming any which way. Of the blood thirsty wildlings, ready to snatch and savage any woman they could find and their terror was why no women could ever join the Nights Watch. Instead, the lands were empty.

Wildlife still lived here, yes, but other then Jon and yourself, the only other living things anywhere by were two horses and Ghost. Nothing else was around, as if everything too had gone into hiding. Leaving the sights to not be noticed by whatever cold could come sweeping through at any moment. Likely looking out in the sunlight thinking the small party of travellers were fools heading the wrong way in the open lands to be spotted.

Some days it felt like that. In the dark of night, if high enough in the lands near a clearing, you could stand by an edge and see the shimmering green in the distance. It felt like a torment, knowing it was drawing you two near to the end, but the determination of cause acted as an invisible force pulling you towards that end anyways. But you didn't talk about it. Not now.

You both knew that this might be a journey only going one direction, but you had time for now to not think about it. The furthest any have ever gone and come back that you knew any truth of, were the Frost Fangs and it would take months to reach there. You could feel that impending, morose sense of doom when that night shimmer of green drew as close as the hospitable lands lasted. Only then would you have to face that reality. Or want too.

“How far do they go on for?”

You had asked looking at the maps, eyes trained directly over the ends of it which showed no direct ending of something. Jon had leaned more into your side, the press of a hand firmly on your lower back running ever so slightly up your spine a tad before dropping back down. Murmuring quietly, as he looked between you and the map. “We don't know. No one's ever been recorded to survive far enough to know where it ends.”

Any maps of it cut off, as if guessing it could not be assumed the degree of it's vastness and so much of it was lands none could go, see, or touch. It was something as if to keep something out, separating whatever was in there from man being able to travel freely into it. “Some say if you sail west long enough you'll end up in the furthest east edges of Essos. Maybe if you travel long enough North, you'll end up walking into the start of the Sunset Sea.”

It was quiet between you both for only a moment until Jon murmured, “Didn't you used to think the world was flat?” What was flat, was the expression on your face it fell into. Arguing back under your breath that you were eight when you thought that. “Thought you were the smart one.”

Were Jon not far stronger then you, and standing far too close to gain any upper hand against, you might have turned and shoved him for that. But still, your eyes drifted to it once more, the way the map cut off without any notion of if it continued passed that point. Gloved fingertips tapping gently against the edge of Thenn, you pushed that sensation down.

Worry about the unknown when you get there you told yourself. Worry about it then.

The days were easy, still enough time of sun in the sky to get a decent amount of the way into the lands, before finding a place to stop. Once nightfall hit though, there was no more place for a fair back and forth debate of plans. Once the sun fell beyond the sky, it was Jons word alone. He knew what lurked in the dark here far more then you did, he didn't want any risk of you finding yourself out of his sight once the only light guiding you was that from the moon, and the whatever fires sat in the middle of your camp.

But the daytime, with light everywhere shining even brighter against nothing but the white snow, it was far easier to see Jon smile and joke. Less to find in a determined terror, he could relax knowing at the least, what threats existed here some time ago no longer were to always look out for. The wildlings were once the enemy to watch out for, but now the enemy was something far different, and it hunted at night. Not in the light of day as you two travelled in.

Six villages this far you both had passed, and each according to Jon had been abandoned long before he saw them the first time. “Some fled, trying to get south of the Wall. Most joined up with Mance Rayder, though.”

Brows narrowing in the slightest, your eyes remained trained looking mostly up and around. The forest paths were a bit longer, but provided the most safe path. Yet gave nothing lacking in sights to take in, almost as if you were as surprised now how far it went on for as you were seeing the wolfswood when a girl. Voice a bit distant, as you eyes caught sight of Ghost following beside him. “Doesn't sound much like a plan. Going to war with the Nights Watch, but what happens when they crossed it? The Seven Kingdoms forgets how they got there?”

It took him a moment to answer, it had been some time since he thought back so those days so vividly, but now it was all around in him memory as it was new for you. “Don't think he had one.” Catching your gaze as you turned to look at him with a question, he elaborated further. “Mance was trying to protect his people, get them south of the Wall before winter came. It took him years to get them all in the same place, but I think that's as far as he got.”

Inhaling a bit, you considered such a fact before jumping to any unfair conclusions. As easy as it would be to. “I suppose when your primary goal is trying to not die, everything else tends to be secondary to that.” A small glint shining in the greys of his eyes spoke enough, and it almost succeeded in bringing the smallest of smiles from you before looking away. “Can we really say we aren't trying if we've both already done it before?”

Matching yours with a bit more ease, your eyes flickered to the side briefly enough to catch a smile much more free on his face, the lightness as he spoke matched as well. “We aren't out here to protect ourselves, we're doing it for our people.”

Almost interrupting his thought, you found the alternate path he was headed towards. “I'm not trying to disrespect the man. I didn't even know him. I'm only saying it doesn't seem like a great plan, if the only option he had if he had crossed was for his people to roll over everything and everyone for a thousand miles.”

A curiosity sat in Jons eyes as he watched you, no malice sat in your expression or tone but you also understood war in a different way then Jon did. The war you've seen were vast and traditional, it was difficult to change such a point of view to that of pure survival when the one you marched into with Robb was so different.

“Can't imagine what he'd say now. Learning in the end the one who betrayed him, brought all his people south without any more fighting over it.”

It caught him off guard you suspected, how quickly it slipped from your mouth without thought behind it. “What do you call getting stabbed in the middle of the courtyard, then?” Your eyes peeled over to his, and a darker bemused glaze sat in his as a nonchalant jest of smug sat in yours.

Lowering a tone in deepness, Jon was short as he replied back. “They didn't kill me for that.” You only muttered that it likely didn't help the matter, but you trusted neither of you felt any blame one way or the other. Not for that anymore, not now. “Trust me, Ser Alliser had wanted an excuse for years. Only matter of time it was before he found a good one.”

“Why?” Turning to look, everything of playfulness had dropped. You barley knew him, but you knew enough to feel the spite returning as it did that first meeting. “Why did he hate you so much? No one that day could give me a real reason.”

But Jon also sighed, looking forward once more and yet also back into such early days so long ago. Back when the worst of his life he thought was being left at the Wall by his father and leaving you to his brother. “I don't know. He did from the moment I got there. It didn't help things when I tried to kill him.”

How he almost managed to get you to pass that by, with the manner he dropped it as you knew that information. Turning with a bit of an open mouth, your eyes shined in wonder he didn't look at. “We're discussing why he hated you, and you somehow didn't think to mention that first?”

“It was only in my first few months. It was after you and my father were arrested, Ser Alliser insulted him in front of me,” Pausing you knew images and memories of what was likely an anger sunk back into his bloodstream. “Before he knew it, I was going at him with a knife. If Grenn and Pyp weren't there to stop me, I would've done it too.”

In one way it was difficult to look at Jon now and imagine such an impulsive action, but you knew the Jon then and his handle on his temper was one. His lack of willingness to control that temper on behalf of the love for his own family, was another completely. “Call it bias, but I can't say I disapprove that you tried. I barley knew him for hours and already I didn't know how you put up with that as long as you did.”

A huff of a laugh came from Jon, “You cut his head off after only knowing him for hours.”

“Someone had to finish the job in your honour.” For a moment nothing was said, until you felt that watching feeling. Turning slightly to glance at Jon, you regretted it in a moment. The look in his eye was undoubtable. “Jon. You cannot possibly be thinking about that right now.” Asking with a rougher tone why not, you felt the fluster wishing to come up your chest. Biting your tongue before finding a much more collected answer not looking his way. “There is nothing appealing about what I did.”

Jon though, switched between watching the path head and glancing to you with the same low words he irritatingly knew got to you. “You killing a man isn't what's appealing. It's how passionate you were about doing it to defend me.” There was little doubt Jon was using how much you were purposely not looking his way against you. “You'd feel the same if it were me, why can't I return that?”

Stammering a bit, your jaw clenched trying to focus. You knew what he was doing. Jon had been at this for the past three days. Trying to gauge how much more needy you were getting and enjoying all too much how hard you worked to pretend you weren't worked up more often now. If you recalled, two months was around when you begun to feel rather needy for Robb as well.

At least you two were in a camp full of soldiers. Jon had you out in the open North with no soul around for hundreds if not a thousand miles to see you but the guarding direwolf beside him. Muttering back low enough he heard, but quiet that you knew you were trying to push passed his intentions. “There's only so much daylight on our side, we can't stop everytime you-”

“Everytime I what? Want you? Everytime I want to shove you against a tree and-” You with much more of an obvious fluster all but shouted his name with wide, embarrassed eyes and instantly he laughed. “Gods, you're making it too easy.”

Oh it was even worse then what you thought. “Maybe I'm not sensitive, maybe you're just being mean, your Grace.” He didn't say anything and you both knew you were not looking at the glint in his eye on purpose. Instead, he left it in the open air, a tease or riling up it could go in either path. He was unpredictable in how mean he could be now that he had you all alone.

Further into the day you'd get and as the sun would continue to fall it was Jons keen eye which would search for a place to stop and always with enough time to settle before night fell. Arguing that it may take longer by being so strict about not travelling at night, but once it was dark and you both could look North and see the glowing green waiting for you, it was difficult to find reason to distrust his instincts.

For now, enough sun remained that he beckoned you to follow, circling more up a path to a small cliff side edge. Jon would always climb from his horse first, keeping you there until he had every reason to suspect there was nothing waiting behind any shadow.

A fortnight passed and the routine was beginning to come easy. Settling the horses first, food, water, they were the easy part. Jon nodding for Ghost to go with you as you gathered wood for a fire insisting he could handle things from there. Though, you were well aware he was giving you the less labour intensive job, with no amount of reminders that only two months you could still do everything you used to. The first night out here, Jon merely pulled you in to press his lips gently to your forehead before shoving you off a bit, murmuring, “Stop arguing.”

When you had pointed out that wasn't anywhere near an argument he had smirked. The next night he simply gave you things to do right away instead of taking over what you already started. Now you just knew better, and no amount of knowing you could do more would make it feel better in his head. So you let him give you the easier tasks, knowing it was thus lighter on the weight bearing down on his shoulders about it.

You did not think of it in that manner at all, but you knew too well, there was already much guilt in his heart. To Jon, he had dragged his pregnant wife out into the far North not knowing if you two would ever come back. He had no choice in bringing you, but he would blame himself if you made his worries any worse then they needed to be.

Ghost at least, had a much more direct manner of ordering you around. He was large after all. The direwolf would simply nudge you to the side out of his way if he decided you were not fit to carry the heavy object in question. There was no mistakening why Jon was the one Ghost bonded too. They were essentially the same person within two different entities.

On many occasions, when you would put down enough branches into the pile collecting, Ghost would saunter up and snatch a large amount in his mouth and look at you expectantly to pick up the smaller amount left. A playfulness in his eyes as he would wait for you, knowing you'd inevitably run your gloved hand over his head and ears first. Picking the rest up that early evening, you looked back up to the direwolf with a brightness in your eyes. “He wasn't so far off when he said we already have a child, was he?”

If Ghost could shake his head like a human to agree, he would have. Sometimes it was striking, how used to him you were. Moreso out here it came to you. In what a direwolf's natural home would be, Ghost fit into it perfectly and yet also was more human then some men ever behaved as. You had only ever spent a significant amount of time around three of them, and it was interesting to see what traits of their companions they took after.

Robb could be just as troublesome and playful, but Grey Wind always represented the assertive independence, the part of Robb that was undoubtedly a King was what was found in his direwolf. Jon had all the same aspects of him as a King, and yet it was his playful and gentle side which was found within Ghost. You could almost wonder if they were there, meant to bring out the best in their human companions which otherwise might not have come out so easily.

But there was a third you knew, and you didn't prefer to think of why you knew the direwolf that much. If you let yourself you could still see her face as you and Lord Stark approached her. The cutest wolf you'd ever seen, and yet she had not a clue what you were there for.

Nudging you slightly, Ghost brought you out of such a memory. Still crouching on the ground, you smiled at him before gathering the rest up. You didn't want to think about that now, what it meant. How Ghost seemed to tie so deeply into the strange abilities which seemed to exist in Jons blood, and what it meant when you help take a wolfs life away without taking the human with it.

You knew he was aware you were back, but you preferred not to interrupt when he did this part, letting him focus solely on setting things up. Already having the base of a fire going for you, your next task begun. It was nothing one could ever call a grand meal, but once the evening sky turned gold, you knew as long as wildlife was around to take advantage of, you'd make best of what you had.

Jon left nothing up to chance. With only the three of you, taking turns staying up to keep watch was not sustainable. If you'd all be asleep come dark, Jon was ensuring anything coming his way would be heard before getting there. And knowing it was not the free folk coming to hunt him down for being a crow he was on the watch for, but the blue eyed dead which could come at anytime.

Turning back though, something in his heart took a skip. It was a sight strange to him, but he had once been desperate for it. Travelling with her, there was not one day he'd wake and not prey to the gods to let it be you he'd see. Instead it was always her, and it always put him on edge no matter how recently he awoke. Jon would wish it would be you there with him, it was all he wanted, all he focused on to get through it all with his sanity.

But the sight he came upon? The camp now set, serving as what home he could give you in this place, you were a strange blend. The sheepskin was not unlike what the free folk would wear to endure such cold so normally, and Jon found himself both hating it and loving it. He hated it, because he wanted to bring you home. Let you wear the dresses he knew you preferred and live in the comfort you deserved to have. But he also loved it.

It was what he would want in his most insecure days. Dreaming of taking you into this very North to live a life where your love was not disapproved of so heavily. You knelt by the fire with a small narrowing in your expression as he knew you were trying to make something good rather then edible alone, as if it were normal. Jon knew you weren't sure of your place here, but he stood there with his heart floating in his chest at how natural you were in whichever kind of life he dragged you into.

But here beyond the Wall, you didn't fit. Or, you shouldn't have fit. A highborn girl, born in luxury within the royal family. Nothing but expensive, beautiful dresses made from fine silk, taught how to be a lady and you presented yourself as such. Smart and well read, but sweet and innocent enough that it made men everywhere want you even if you refused to believe him when he said it.

In your home you were a Queen, and you grew up the closest thing to a princess a girl could get and yet you were here with him. In a frozen land, making your way deep into such difficult inhospitable lands and giving up everything to do so. You were always more to Jon then just a pretty maiden, but for everything you deserved to be, he felt something so warm in his chest at the manner which you worked in the small campsite as if it were everything you needed anyways.

Maybe it was being back out here doing it, but something was filling him with an adoring pride at being able to call you his, knowing that you were exactly the kind of girl Ygritte made fun of. But here you were, surviving the same lands she did, but all without making fun of her for any opposite. You fit her clothes as much as your own, when Ygritte would rather have burned yours then even pretend she could fit into them.

Ygritte would've hated everything about you, and it made him feel all the more angry at her for it. Even after all this time, standing there knowing you were his wife, carrying his child, and following him to the genuine ends of the known world when you should be home in Winterfell in comfort.

These were the lands of her home, and maybe he thought, if she could watch him now, she'd understand that the man she forced him to pretend to be was nothing of who he wanted to be. Maybe she'd finally understand he willingly shared with you what she forced him to pretend to want to give. Maybe Jon thought, he should make love to you under the night sky even just once, so she could see what love was, and why Jon would never have given it to her.

By the time Jon returned, you gave him a small smile glancing from your focus. “Perfect timing, your food is just about ready.” He said nothing as you worked, not that you took any notice, you didn't need him to fill the air every moment. You were fine knowing he was in your sights by the fire now.

It was one of the few times you found something resembling a normal feeling out here. By the fire as the sun set, even past the sting of the cold everywhere else, you would look to Jon and feel a bit less unsure about it all. You both had a long way to go, but quiet moments of normalcy here, nothing but Jon and Ghost at your side, it felt as if you truly were supposed to be here. “What?”

Registering the question in your head, bringing you back to notice now Jons gaze was set directly onto you with curiosity. For only a second did you give yourself that time further to entrench yourself in that feeling before swallowing such sappiness back down where it belongs. Turning your attention back to what was boiling, you told a half truth. “My apologies, your Grace. I'll admire you out of sight next time.”

Shaking his head with an amusement, Jon choose to not reply to that. Likely knowing flustering you as you were perched over a hot fire was not the correct time to do so.

“I'm taking us on a different path then we planned tomorrow.” Glancing up at him later into the evening, your mid bite allowing him to simply elaborate for you. “We'll set up came earlier, but there's somewhere I want to go. Something I need to see before I lose the chance.”

Agreeing with whatever his plan was, you could see a distance in his eyes finding the flames. Lost in a memory you were too apprehensive to interrupt to ask about. A whole lifetime passed for Jon both in the Nights Watch and in the far north here, and sometimes it was easy to forget how little you knew of his life in the years you were apart.

Clever he was, picking to choose when to bring it back up. Kneeling behind you a the sky fell dark properly, carefully untangling the natural mess from the day in your hair as night truly begun to sink down on the North. A low murmur right in your ear, warm breath dancing along the skin and almost shivering down your spine as a result. “It seems dark enough to say we're not going anywhere now.”

A smile falling on your lips as you leaned a bit back more into his warm touch. “What is there to say about it? You were there, you saw what I did.”

Shifting part of your hair to one side, a flutter of your eyes came about as Jon rasped deep into your ear before leaning down to press his lips to your neck ever so gently. A free hand of his sat firmly on your upper arm, the other running up and down your opposite arm toying with the idea of finding your waist as he spoke. “I know you, and I know you wouldn't have done it without getting him to confess in front of everyone.” Asking lightly if Edd hadn't told him, but Jon only pressed another kiss to your neck, lingering longer that time. “He did, but he's not the one who made that choice. He wasn't the one who did it. Had you ever done it before yourself?”

Shaking your head only slightly as to not disturb his warm place by your neck, a little bit of airiness poked through the memory thinking back of it. “I killed before, but never in that way. Robb was the one who did it, I stood with him but he swung the sword.” Only quiet followed, but Jon shifted a bit to lean more back against the rock side behind, pulling your back into his chest properly. One arm wrapping across your front and sitting by your other shoulder, rightly anticipating you reaching one hand up to wrap with his there.

His other did as he always did in such a position now. As his brother once had. Firmly against the front of your stomach. Jon liked to find his hand soothing over your scar, but now you knew the possessive nature behind it had grown to something else. “Why not get someone else to do it? No one would have blamed you.”

The weight trapped in your throat, it did none to let you swallow the flood of raw grief that you had no more need to feel. He was behind you, he was alive with you, but it felt as fresh as it had in the same hours that day. “No one took responsibility for it. The ones who knew, the men I spoke to who all pointed the finger at Ser Alliser without even knowing the truth. Everyone knew it was him, and he was allowed to walk around as if he had been waiting for such a day for years.”

Nudging the side of your head with his, you turned more to the sensation without committing to trying to seek out his eyes. Were you anywhere but in his arms, Jon wouldn't have been heard. “It wasn't your fault- no darling, we're not doing this again. He wanted me dead for years, he only used me going after you as an excuse. It wasn't your duty to take justice, you shouldn't have had to.”

Mumbling a bit, there was a chance of none Jon did not pick up the wavering. “I thought you found me defending your honour attractive.”

A chuckle hummed in your ear, Jons thumb reaching up to brush against what of your chin and jaw he could from such an angle. “I do, but that doesn't mean it wasn't hard for you. I never avenged you and Robb when I had the chance, so yes it's important to me that you did for me what I didn't for you.”

You weren't sure why it was what came out, but it did and quickly. “You know what made me angry the most? Thinking that your last moments, you were forced to die alone. No one was there who cared, just let you bleed out in the snow before hiding what they had done.” Your grip on the hand close to your shoulder tightened, Jon returning the change right away as you tried to almost force the sting behind your eyes away through that alone. “He said to me he should have left you outside the gates, force me to freeze to death with you but it wouldn't have changed anything. It wouldn't have changed that you were alone. I came back without him, but at least Robb and I were with each other when it happened. The last thing the other saw, but I couldn't stand the idea of Ser Alliser getting to walk around free when he forced you to die thinking you had no one.”

His rasp deep and warm right by your ear, his hands pulling you back more into him were such a feat even possible. “When I finally realized what happened, when I was in Ghosts mind, if you hadn't come through those gates that morning I would've gone looking for you anyways. I couldn't stand thinking you were somewhere out there, thinking no one was left to care about protecting you. I didn't care what the others thought, even if I was going alone I needed you to know I cared, I needed you to know I still loved you more then anything else.”

“And that's why I had to execute him myself. I still loved you, and even though I couldn't get there in time to save you, I'd protect whatever you had left. From any of them.”

Hiding somewhat in your neck and partially in your hair, Jon stayed there. Muffled against you as you tried to lean and return the gesture back from such a spot. “I'm starting to think we've never been normal about each other.” Your breathy laugh caused a deeper one to rumble through his chest into your back. “Am I wrong?”

Rising up suddenly, he left your hand go to tilt rest at your other cheek pulling you so he could press is lips to the side of your head as he continued. “The old me would have never done any of that seeing you alive again the first time. Not right away. I'd have at least waited until I had you in a warm bed to tear your clothes off.” Running his thumb up and down your cheek still, the leather somewhat cold against the wind. “Would have said more then three words to you.”

Turning suddenly, Jons hands settled on your hips as you straddled his lap. Perched on his shoulders, able to run along his exposed neck while it was not hidden away by his curls. Bright was all your eyes shined at him with, and a sickening adoration you found yourself unwilling to downplay as he found the same instinct right back. “If I recall, I wasn't exactly begging for you to stop.”

There it was, that tease in his eyes which shined so perfectly. The need in him to hold you tighter and closer with the obstacle of how covered up you both were out in the cold. “As soon as I had your shirt off, you were desperate to get mine off too.” Leaning forward more, hands cupping both sides of his face against the scratch of his facial hair, Jon moved one of his to hold you steady up your spine as he followed suit and sat up to meet you closer.

Just barley nudging your nose with his as you tempted yourself with kissing him, eyes darting back and forth between his lips and closing to enjoy the proximity. “I was desperate for you the moment you kissed me, think I'm always a bit desperate for you. Don't know what's happened, you came back and all I want to do is hand my body over to you for whatever you could possibly want.”

Jaw clenching tightly, Jon drifted that hand up to run through the hair down your back. Slinking through the stands he had so recently smoothed out and grasping a hold of it much more tightly. Words slurring together a bit the more worked up you knew he felt. “If I did whatever I wanted to you, you wouldn't even be able to walk when I'm done. I don't know I'd even let you, maybe I'd keep you tied to by bed. Stripped and bare, legs spread for me the moment I walk in, whenever I want.”

Swallowing harsh, Jon had spotted it no doubt. Breathless against him, lightheaded in the need growing the longer you sat there but he made forgetting everything around you in his favour too common. You hadn't even said a word, only nodding obediently.

The thicker his accent, the more worked up he was, and it was as thick as could be, murmuring against your lips. “All I'd have to do is taste you for hours. Drink between your legs and never let you cum until you'd beg me for anything. That's when I'd ask, when I'd suggest it, any of it. Show you why you've always belonged to me.”

Dropping your head slightly, forcing a whine back down your throat even though Jon could feel you desperately attempting to not grind down onto him. Reaching up from your waist, Jon tilted your chin to force your gaze to meet his. Brows furrowed in a seriousness before he lurched forward. Capturing your lips with his, bruising and rough in the moment he kissed you and only pulling you closer by the hand tight in your hair.

Your hands wrapping instantly around the back of his neck, you let him deepen the kiss as he moved his lips, soft and perfect against your needy ones. Teeth nibbling at your bottom lip and you parted ways for him almost too instantly, almost too obediently. He hadn't even asked yet, but took full advantage to slid his tongue into your mouth, brushing against yours.

Keeping your lips against his, the hand at the back of your head loosening his grip only enough to slink through the strands of your hair more. Not so forcefully tight but almost controlling, his large hand pressing the back of your head to keep your lips all to himself. Stealing your every breathe but you pressed against his front as much as you could, almost wishing you could still give him more.

Only a fortnight passed which you two were alone out here, and already Jon had you utterly weak for him in such a powerful way. Nothing and no one to distract you from the burning inside your lungs which pleaded his name for more. Licking the inside of your mouth, you tried to brush against his tongue back but he kissed you just the way he wanted, you surrendering all control to him, begging for each break in the kiss to come back, chasing his lips once more Jon never refused.

But in the cold of night, you could hardly share as much as you were desperate for. Pulling back from your lips, saliva not even breaking between you as Jon husked out deep as anything, “I wanted to make love to you here, take you under the stars, but not tonight, not yet.”

Surging upwards, Jon hauled you to your feet along with him by your hips before pressing his lips to yours once more. Pulling back just as you gasped from the suddenness, “I'll take care of things here, I want you to lay down for me.” Your nod, eyes fluttering closed, was not enough. Calling your name to attention, meeting his eyes black in their desire. “Alright?”

“Alright.” A hand ran down your hair gently, and prompted you as if nothing was out of the ordinary, to where the tent was firmly set, waiting to hide you from the cold properly.

You knew the routine, after all, only the two of you it was easy to find new patterns with one another and Jon was not a difficult man for you to read. A laugh leaving you gently right away, tucked away on one side, curled up as if being in a ball did not make him one very large patch of fur, Ghost barley took notice to you interrupting the lack of cold as you moved inside.

Shocking it was how easy it was for the cold to seem so much less permanent hidden by the simplicity of four walls, or what makeshift walls a tent of such size served as. The sheepskin was the first to come off of your torso, tearing it from you to the dark shirt long down your arms underneath. Part of you wanted to sigh, you did every night.

It was as if you were in the Westlands all over again. How much wearing things such as this day in and out made you miss your dresses. Truly, you didn't know how men did it. You hated having to dance to get even most of your heavy layers off and even then your legs still firmly hidden away. In the outside it was nice, when you were in here, it was nothing but an annoyance.

Only two of you, not much could be taken. But the material hiding the snowy ground was thick enough you couldn't feel the cold under it, and at the least the fur on top was as close to the comfort of Jons bed as you two could recreate.

Listing off in your head what he was doing, knowing the routine set which you almost had down to exactly when he'd do what, right up to matching in your head the approaching of footsteps coming your way. The fire no doubt hidden as embers to not catch any possible chance of attention, it left not a peek of light as your eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Laid back somewhat, perched up by your palms against the fur, you watched as Jons figure only briefly brought the cold and light in with him before hiding away again. The sounds of boots coming off and layers shedding, you had not a clue what he left until the feeling of his warmth came to you.

Keeling down on the fur over top of you, Jon crawled over to force your back against the floor of the tent. Your hands seeking him to find he had nothing on, not a thing and yet he was so warm. The brushing of his curls now loose danced over you as Jon reached for the bottom of your own shirt. Pulling it up and tossed away to the pile without another thought. Your pants next he gently pulled them down and nothing left was in his way.

Crawling back over, one hand cupped the side of your cheek and jaw, moving your lips perfectly into place as he pressed his bare frame over yours. Your legs spreading as they bent to seek home by his hips, Jon used the other to cup the back of your head. Keeping your lips to his as he guided you to follow in his kiss. Nothing but the gentle sound of his lips moving with yours was around. Not the sounds of outside, not the crackling of a fire always close in any room. Just the two of you, as your hands roamed his shoulders and back.

Not a shred of the roughness he took you with earlier, moving from your lips down to your neck, not biting. Just his lips, his tongue, still taking his opportunity to suck marks deep into your neck, you gasped loudly as your back arched up into him. The hand on your jaw, now wrapping around your waist, keeping your hips pressed to his, the feeling of his cock hard running along you as if he could simply ignore it.

Your heart pounding in your chest the further his lips moved, your breathing heaving your chest as he came down to them. Grasping each in a rough hand, that time your gasp was far sharper, far more high pitched as you almost didn't contain a whine along with it. His eyes adjusted better then yours, Jons gaze shot up to you. Muttering quiet with a thick rasp, “Shh, darling. I know, they're sensitive this way, barley have to touch you anywhere else now.”

Your head falling back to the ground, your hands wanted to keep holding onto Jon, but his shoulders too far down to wrap around properly, only nails digging in slightly as you mumbled back. “No, please, please I need you-”

Pressing his lips gentle to each breast, despite caressing and groping them tightly together, he reassured you with deep tones to seduce rather then calm. “I'll touch you I promise, but these,” Groping more before his fingers found your nipples in a more pinch that had you gasp for him again. “You're so sensitive now, carrying my child...” More and more your core twisted at the sparks he sent through your breasts.

He was right, they were so much more sensitive now and Jon adored it. You nodded despite not knowing if he could even see, but your tongue was stinging being bitten down on to contain yourself, the worry that how suddenly Jon touch burned you would seem depraved and unhinged, but you felt it with such need as he twisted the buds of your breasts, giving them a tug before letting one hand go back to grasping to replace the twisting sensation with a bite.

A hand finding his curls, grounding yourself before you floated away Jon bit at your nipples before sinking his teeth into the skin around it. Leaving a sheen of cold from his saliva when he would drifted, only to switch to the other. His hand now yanking at the nipple against your breast stinging from how much you knew he marked it in colours.

Biting down against the other, your core burned and twisted right until you felt tears leave the corners of your eyes from where you lay, but always arching into his touch. He couldn't you thought, he couldn't finish you just from this surely. But if that were the case, why were your hips almost grinding up into his, feeling the brush of his cock.

Moving away, Jon looked up to you with a tilt of his head. “You're not going to cum for me, just from this alone..” Testing the waters, he groped them roughly with his thumbs running along your nipples and the manner in which it twisted in your gut would be embarrassing had Jon not dropped his head slightly. “Fuck..” Before returning right back. Taking your nipples between his teeth and increasing the roughness every passing cry.

It was so quick, the build without anything but the slight brushing of his cock against your core, but it was too fast. It had you shiver in his touch not from the cold, but your hands tightened in his hair. A growl leaving him at the tug, you did it again only for Jon to bite down at your breasts harder. You could feel how much they were going to sting come morning but you craved it.

“Come on.” Muttering against you, as he yanked at them once more. But it was the return of his lips to your neck which did you in. It felt humiliating, an orgasm coming from his touch at your breasts alone but you writhed up into him almost desperate for your breasts to be let go. Sloppily trailing to your lips, Jon captured another kiss as he muttered under his breath, nothing but inaudible swears until he slunk to your ear with hot breaths. “I'm not done.”

That time he did not pace himself down your body. Somewhat sitting up, Jon grasped your hips, yanking you to pull down the fur. Pulling your legs over his shoulders, Jon leaned down enough so your back remained flat but his grip on your hips kept you hoisted in the air, and more notably, kept you wide open for his mouth at his desire.

Grateful for the hidden acts, knowing were you to see the utter display Jon had you in, you would feel nothing in your bones but a deep shame at what you were willing to let him do. Licking a path right from your core up to your clit, he gave the same treatment to it as he did your breasts, teeth scraping against the bundle of nerves before sucking at it. Cries leaving you without notice but the feeling of how wet you were not anything to Jon but a feast.

Tongue flat against you, licking down before shifting enough so one hand slid down to cup a cheek of your ass, as if keeping you perched right for his tasting. Licking deep inside of you, the spinning in your head immense as you soaked him with every brush of his tongue inside. Warm his mouth was against already your warm cunt, the winter outside need not exist as the sweat built up the more you cried out, hands grasping at the fur beneath you tightly.

Grunting into you, fingertips digging roughly into your ass to the degree you felt his nails carving half moons into the skin. His other hand firmly at your hip keeping you trapped in such a position, and yet your hands yearned to touch him. To let him touch you, but words couldn't escape between breathe of pleads and begs of his name for something your desire could hardly ask for through the fog.

Nose nudging against your clit, every bit of wetness you soaked him with was not let escape to find your skin. Only his tongue, as Jon felt the pounding in his heart as his insides burned how much he could loose his senses this way. Your begs for him were the only sound he needed, knowing if he kept you this way, you'd cling to him so needy when he finally climbed back over top of you. For now though, he guided you into that darkness more around you, sucking back at your clit before nibbling down and tearing gasps from your lips.

Drinking from your cunt, were they not closed, Jons eyes may have rolled into the back of his head, the taste was so heavy but so perfect. You gave no man this but Jon, it belonged to him, this taste belonged to him and not even a sliver of what you were like down here could match to such a feast.

Were the end of you both coming to the destination of this journey, the only meal Jon wished to have before you both went was this. He'd keep you on his mouth and tongue as long as he possibly could, he knew he would need this. Almost every night Jon wanted to let his tongue run along your soaking, sensitive walls until you gifted him more of your wetness.

Which you continued to do, begging his name.

“Gods, Jon..please, you're-gods you're so good, so perfect..” Sometimes you knew you spoke but not a clue what words truly came out of your mouth. But that core inside you burned and twisted and turned until you felt your legs tensing around him, but Jon only held you tighter against his ravenous mouth.

Growling into you, it vibrated against your walls and dragged you over that edge. Tongue soaking up every slick of orgasm you poured into his mouth. Breathless cries leaving you, but Jon only growled more the longer you came, the longer you let him lick inside your cunt the perfect taste.

Only when your legs started to tense and almost pull away did Jon tear from you. Letting your legs drop, spread wide for him did he let you heave in need for air, hand running along his mouth to gather what remained before crawling back over you, hoisting your legs back up to his hips, muttering against your lips so close you already could taste what remained on him of you. “Wrap them around me.”

Somehow relaxing now that your arms could follow your legs, the later at his hips and hooking around his back and your arms wrapping around his shoulders as your nails scratched into him. His kiss deep and forcing his tongue into your needing mouth to brush against yours, making you taste yourself the way he couldn't stop craving.

A hand cupping the back of your head to keep your kiss against his lips, Jon spared no more time as he used his other hand to grasp your hip. In one single, smooth and soaking thrust Jons cock stretched you thick, sinking as deep as he could go without any resistance despite how tightly you clenched around him. Your nails carving into his back, tearing himself from your lips in almost a snarl at the sting, despite such an innocent look on your face, overwhelmed at how much his cock filled you.

Jon knew by now, he had utterly ruined everything that once made you so pure.

It wasn't the cold causing you to shiver as such, the slow drag of his cock against the most sensitive walls inside of you, making you feel his every inch. Only when he was sat deep inside of you did Jon press his forehead against yours, rasping through such a gruff need. “I'm bringing us home. All four of us, I promise.”

Eyes hooded from the spark flying through your veins, you sought after his kiss. Muttering between each press of your lips, “Stay with me, that's all I need. No matter what, that's all I need..” Pushing you back into the furs to deepen the kiss, you felt the protest in him but you raked your hands through his curls almost soothingly.

You didn't need any promises but that you'd be together. Everything you needed was already with you, right in this tent and that was all you could ever ask the gods for. Slowly, Jon begun to slide his cock almost all the way out, only the tip still inside you and he thrusted back in you just as slow. A burn hardly out of control much like the embers of the fire outside, enough to keep you going but dim and soothing instead of wild and out of control.

Breathing heavy between you both as each slid of his cock snug inside you had you cry out, and each time you clenched around such a sting he gave you Jon eased you with a kiss. For every way he could take you, nothing was ever more overwhelming then when he fucked so calm, slowly, taking his time instead of tearing you apart. One hand high on your waist slid down, running over the scar with a pressure knowing he was trying to feel any changes yet.

Brows furrowing you knew he was trying to figure it out, what did you feel like the night before what could he be imagining from hope, but your cries tore him back to the present. Somewhat hiding in his neck, you burned white hot within you, you were soaking his cock you knew it. Every thrust it got worse but you might cry if he stopped, if he pulled out. Grasping desperately around his back and shoulders, Jon tried to shift so he ran a hand down what he could of your hair.

“I know, darling. I know. It's a lot.” Nodding against him, he never changed his pace, never moved how hard he thrusted into you, but your muscles shook as your mind fogged. So hazy he could say anything and you'd nod in agreement as long as he kept his cock inside you.

Closer and closer the building in your core got, the more Jon buried his face in your hair in return. Trying to keep above instead of pressing you into the furs, but you let a whine escape enough that Jon almost groaned in your ear, even moreso when you begged so sweetly. “Please Jon, please, I want you to finish with me..please..”

Turning to kiss the side of your head, Jon nodded against you after. “I'm close, show me what you learned.” Hesitantly, you let a hand around his shoulder slide away. Drifting down between your bodies, Jon knew you found it the moment you jumped the slightest in his arms. “That's it, come on,”

Slowly sliding in and out, you refused to touch your clit at any pace Jon was not setting. Rubbing just slight circles, trying to find the right feeling when he bit at your ear, hissing against it. “Don't overthink it.”

It was a little easier, telling yourself once again to focus on his cock inside of you and you followed as such so naturally. Pressing your forehead against his, you felt his cock throbbing inside of you just as the heat in you burned enough the coil twisted tightly, small needing cries left muffled into his neck and clenching tight around.

Just as it released, just as the desire flooded your veins with a beg of his name did Jon groan yours. Pressing you flat against the fur, but not before he snatched your hand from your clit. Pushing it against the fur as well beside your head, Jon interlocked your fingers together as he pulled back to capture your lips into a rough kiss. Thick and hot, his seed spilled inside of you at the deepest point, your hand grasping somewhat at his waist beckoning him almost further.

Slow thrusts moved down to slower, and slower before almost hardly being considered moving as you and Jon both lost each other in his kiss. As if you weren't already carrying his child, Jon refused to leave as if you needed to be filled with his seed at any time.

Gentle brushes of his tongue against yours, just to coax you back to him. Smaller kisses being pressed back to your lips each time he pulled away, followed by a longer, more chaste kiss as he slowly pulled out of you. Running a hand up and down your hip and keeping your fingers interlocked on the other side as he did so. Murmuring the moment he led up, “I love you.”

For the sweat and seed shared between your bare bodies, Jon let out a boyish smile and chuckle along with it. Pressing a kiss to your lips once more muttering, “And I love you.” Until the after shocks would settle, Jon kept you in his neck and his face in your hair, running hands over one another.

Only when you could kiss him back without gasping for any air once more, Jon finally turned you in his arms. Pulling your back firmly against his chest as he pressed his hand once again firmly against your stomach. Both nuzzling back into the other, you both were fine if sleep was harder to come by out here as long as you'd find it wrapped in one another like this.

It was but another grim day in the sky, but such things felt normal no matter where in the North one travelled. Climbing off your horse, you gently led him over to where a few posts still remained, albeit more rough and more covered in snow then likely when such a place was kept.

It was a clearing of land in the middle of the forest, and yet the buildings here no longer existed as they once had some time ago. Scattered remains which in fresh days looked like they could be burnt, but the snow and ice dusting over them now hid such evidence from afar. Running your gloved hand along their mane before stepping towards what remained of an open entrance like gate.

Jon did the same not a few feet from you, but his mind was as distant as his grey eyes were hazy with something unspoken and troubled. You wouldn't rush. He had wanted to come to whatever this was, and you would give him whatever time he needed with the remains of a memory.

Your feet carrying you one path to another avoiding the rubble, but unavoidable the longer you walked around what used to be some sort of building. You had been through villages once belonging to the free folk, but this reminded you more of a home. Tucked away in the forest from the rest of the world and it was a wonder what sort of world this north used to be before the winter colds came down.

Everything was as clear to Jon as it was both times he had been here. The first filled with strange memories, visions of the very woman walking some feet around the keep from him with Jons own brother, the truth of what exactly went on with the girls living here and the stacking upon stacking of evidence that a monster of a man lived here.

It was difficult to imagine someone with spirits as bright still as Gilly had come from such a dour, horrible place. Or how she had found harmony and love in someone as unlikely thinking he'd find it as Sam. Then again, once more Jon looked to you, wide eyes searching all around to put together what Jon was not saying in the silence, and he knew you too were somehow what he never thought would be someone he could have.

Finding a voice eventually, Jon walked more towards the middle of the keep over the wood still remaining from when he himself had helped burn it down. “This was Crasters Keep.” Your head turned to look at him, and it was still so odd seeing you in such a place he hated. A place where once was full of men he would be terrified to have you anywhere near. “The Nights Watch had an arrangement with Craster. We'd bring him things from south of the Wall, and he'd let our rangers stay and sleep here on their way to wherever they were going.”

Eyes narrowing in question you asked, “I thought the free folk had all hated the Nights Watch.”

Nodding, Jon didn't dispute it. “They did. Craster included. He hated everything that wasn't himself. He just liked his greed more then his privacy.” Your expression twisting a bit, he knew that wasn't even the half of it. Jon wasn't about to tell you the disgusting truth of his wives, or the vulgar things he meaninglessly shouted towards Jon with just to try and humiliate him in front of his brothers. He only was alright with you being in this place, now that it was gone.

Some things north of the Wall Jon thought, you should never know. The world you lived in together away from here was bad enough, he didn't need to divulge the worst of this place to you. Or what his brothers did once this place became theirs. Your voice cutting through the quiet, “What happened here exactly?”

Face falling into a frown, Jon considered the most gentle way to describe it. The first half was the easy one, the second not so much, taking his time explaining to get to that second half. “I wasn't here for it, it was after the brothers got attacked at the Fist of the First Men. They were making their way back to the Wall and stopped here, but for some of them I guess they had enough.” Turning to look at him, Jons face fell a bit to something he knew you'd tell was a sorrow. “Some of them put a knife through Crasters mouth, took hostage some of the brothers that fought back, and killed Lord Commander Mormont.”

Eyes widening at him, Jon knew it wasn't pity. It was his own guilt for how it ended for him and not being anywhere near it that he was seeing. Tender your voice was, trying not to overstep what you could tell was a wound which still felt strange in his heart. “So they burned it all down?”

“No. I did that.” Training his eyes to the ground, he begun searching for any signs. Glancing to Ghost wandering by with a look asking for him to help without need of words. “Mance's army was coming this way, and I knew if they got here, the mutineers would tell them the truth. What our weak spots were and how few men we actually had. So I had men come with me to kill them all before Mance got to them.”

Not seeing your reaction, but he could tell a bit that you were on the further North side of the keep. “What about his wives? What happened to them?”

Maybe he was being too soft with you, but it wasn't just the mutineers he could see, it was Ramsay. A man like him would've fit right in with that lot. So he kept the worst of it out. “Some ran, the ones who were still here when we got there, I knew they had nowhere to go. Offered to take them back to Castle Black, find them work, keep them safe. But they refused.” Asking why, Jon once more concocted a gentler version of it. “My brothers killed their father, took over their home, and Craster wasn't exactly a good man either. So they told us to burn it down, they'd find their own way.”

Jon looking through the rubble wondered, where had they gone, who did they find. Perhaps they found a way to get South, he hoped they did. They deserved a better life then anything in the far North could give them.

A whine from the west side came from Ghost, drawing his attention. Climbing over most of it, Jon jumped down to what had his direwolfs attention. Pulling back some of the rubble, it was cracked, it wasn't whole, but it was there. Looking up with a low muttering, “You sure?” Ghost only gesturing his head back down, and Jon knew that was a yes. Running his hand over with a small smile, “Good boy.”

He picked it up gently. It was all that was left, but what was left didn't deserve to be left out here. Maege Mormont had said she knew what it felt like to have your brother die thousands of miles from where you were to protect them, betrayed by his own men. She knew that pain exactly as Jon did, and Jon had the feeling you refused to discuss certain things about Robb, because you were avoiding the conversation of why you couldn't get his remains home.

He wanted nothing more then to have a scrap of Robb to bury, but he could give Maege this. He could bring what was left of Jeor Mormont home hopefully. He'd try at least. Shifting things around he wrapped it before finding a safe place for it near the bottom of the bag over his back.

Pushing up to stand once more did Jon notice he and Ghost were alone. The horses both still there, but nowhere in the remains of Crasters Keep did he see you. Calling your name, Jon glanced to Ghost in question.

It was that dream. The one you had the night you, Robb, and Theon had discussed sending him back to Pyke. You had gone to sleep that night, and dreamt of another night in the wolfswood by Winterfell. Only as you walked through the woods north of the keep, you realized your memory had blended with whatever it was Jon had seen that night. You knew these woods from that dream, and further and further your feet carried you looking for it.

The dream had haunted you for years, you would see nothing now you knew but you had to find it.

A baby laid on the snow, as if tossed away while it cried, and a crackling of ice before blue eyes glowing as crystals picked the baby up and walked further away into the northern woods. You had woken suddenly from that point, but you knew now it was real. Standing there, you resisted the urge to reach for your stomach. The idea of giving your child up in the snow for something to take like a monster in a bed side story.

Only a monster could do such a thing, giving up life they helped to create before it ever stood a chance? No good person worth remembering would do such a thing. You hadn't even heard Jon coming up behind you until the hand pressed against the hair at the back of your head, turning you enough to pull you to his lips. A kiss left to the back of your head as that hand slipped down to grasp at the edges of the fur covered hood by your neck.

Standing beside one another, it was another wave of an oddity for you both. The sight of a vision you knew the other had seen, and only now so many years later did you meet here in person where it had haunted you both. Rasping low in your ear, “Don't wander off on me like that.”

Whispering that you were sorry, you could see from the side of your vision him nodding without anger or irritation behind it. He was as wide eyed and trapped in place as you were. “How could someone do that? Give their child up to them, abandon them in the snow like they mean nothing to you?”

Using his grip on the fur, Jon pulled you closer into his side. “He was a monster. Murdering his own children.”

You both could see it, the creature walking away with the baby. The first time for you, that ice and cold and blue haunted your nightmares. “What did they want them for? The boys, what did the Others want with children?”

Was Jons answer more disturbing or less, neither was sure. “I don't know.”

His own hand reach out to run against your stomach before using the grip to turn you around, keeping you at his side with the hand pressing at your lower back. Moving you both back up the snowy grounds to the keep, Jon didn't want to look back. He wanted to know many things by the end of this, but maybe he didn't want to know what happened to the boys Craster gave up.

That way he wouldn't have to imagine in some months, the nightmare of his own son being given up like that. Jon knew he was many things in his new life, but willing to give up his children like that would never be one of them.

You relied on Jon to guide this journey, and this you never questioned his route. So perhaps, it was being kept from you that instead of crossing the Gorge as he knew was more then possible, he was taking a bit of extra time to go around it before making the longer trek to the Fist of the First Men.

The Frost Fangs were a long stretch of ice covered mountains and the terrain was going to be the more rough part. Jon having told you that it would take the longest to get through them. “If I were alone, it may be easier, but I'm going to be taking it slow with you. We won't get there for months, so I won't rush you through them. Not now and certainly not then.”

You both knew why, not only were you not used to terrain which was coming that way, but by his estimation, you would be at least four months by the time you would reach the beginning of them. You'd be showing by then, and he wasn't going to risk you or the babies life if there was even a scrap of a chance he could get you home.

Sometimes it surprised you that even in the sort of cold around, the feeling of freshly fallen snow still was something near refreshing. For quite a while as you travelled, there was a continuous falling around you of large, almost wondrous snowflakes heavily making a home in your hair. More then once Jon however had turned to ensure you weren’t too cold, and just as many times as he would ask, would you dismiss it with your eyes squinting upwards.

The white of the cloud covered sky and the endless snow falling down against it like a blanket was a feeling familiar even though the side was more new. As Jon clarified his question, affirming that you nor the baby would be too cold, you smiled before looking back at him. “Her fathers a man of the North, and I grew up around the rains and storms of an island. I think she is well equipped to handle a little more cold then normal so far.”

All you caught at first was a vauge comment under his breath somewhere along the lines of saying that indeed, his son would be prepared for it. Continuing on the never ending battle for which you were to have persisted between you both. Boy or girl?

Glancing up ahead, Jon gestured to a coming stream. “We’ll stop here until it clears up.” Looking over to him with a bemused dismay you attempted to ask if if he heard what you had said about being fine, when he cut you off with an ease and calm. “I did, and I’m ignoring you.” You could see the grin forming as he rode up ahead of you first.

Securing both horses, Ghost around you both had begun his usual wander. Dutifully by Jons side when travelling but always eager to stretch his legs at any stop. Settling his, Jon gently took the reigns of your own horse for you, not even a question in his conscious mind of allowing you to simply do the work. He almost had to pause mid movement to think about it when you had opened your mouth. “You do have to let me do things on my own sometimes.”

Eyes narrowing up at you in thought, Jon kept it to himself for the duration it took to settle the reigns and rise back to his full height before he gave you a small shrug. “I could. I don’t think I’ve actually stopped you from trying.”

Turning away slightly with a forming grin a this ease and audacity, you arms crossed your front before looking back with a raised brow and tint to your tone of playful challenge. “You absolutely have done that.” Asking when, you sighed out with a more mocking tone of frustration both knew was not real. “Everyday. I can do things on my own still, I am very much as able as I was months ago if you let me prove it. But, even though-”

Taking a step close to you with a laugh of his own, you cut your own words off in favour of having him elaborate on what was so funny. “You’re about to do the thing my father always said.”

Head jolting back a little in question, your eyes brightened a bit wondering of his point. “What?”

An eyebrow raised on him that time with a tone filled to the brim with a smugness that it was about to get under your skin. “That everything somebody says before the word but, is horseshit.”

Your face falling amusingly flat, you tilted your head at him. “I think you’re being a bit hyperbolic. He never quite said it as crudely as that.”

Jon though had something in his eyes radiating with a memory not quite as amusing, but wrapped around a lightness of better times. Looking back down to you with something far less teasing and much more soft, as if relaying the memories to you as they played out behind his eyes. “He never said it like that to you.” Your silence taking appropriately as a question of elaboration, he turned more to the sight of the stream beside you both as you followed. “You’re a girl. He never swore around you or my sisters, wasn’t proper.”

The quiet was light for a moment, but instead of falling into the same form of memory, what slipped out of you was much too quick for your own good. “So why didn’t you ever learn that lesson?”

By the time Jon turned back to you with something smart on his lips, did you make your move towards the stream. Refilling your own water with the thought in the back of your head when you stood up to do his as well, Jon continued speaking as he came up beside you. Only, turning to him at one point to respond did you realize you hadn’t actually known what he was saying to you. Noticing you had somehow stopped paying attention.

Eyes narrowing a little, you realized you were focusing far more on a growing feeling in your stomach. You had reach two months without this, you thought perhaps new life meant you would not return to this.

Jon only noticed you were distracted, perhaps seconds before it all came up. Trying to turn from him completely, he did not let you go far. Following you in seconds, your frame keeled over as the sickness all came up. Hair gathering in his hand, the other running down your back but he was quiet as he was close.

One wave stopped and you only got as far as a wince before more returned. It was never much, but always was as unpleasant as it burned your throat no matter how little there was. Leaning more to your side, in the seconds you had to gasp for air, Jon pressed a kiss to the back of your head, but didn't speak. Just kept himself there, the gentle nuzzle on occasion doing more to calm you then he would know. Just when you thought you were done, just a bit more.

In truth, you stayed knelt there longer then you knew was needed because you were embarrassed. No you hadn't wanted Robb to fuss, but you simply didn't want to be ill like that in front of your husband, and you still didn't want to despite Jon being close by your side now. This was an unflattering, gross part of being with child and you wished it would have waited until you were alone long enough Jon wouldn't notice. Jon though, only gently promped you to drink water, knowing no doubt the burn scratching your throat. You whispering out between drinks, “I'm sorry.”

Running a hand through your hair, Jon was confused. “Darling, don't be sorry.”

Shaking your head, you hadn't looked back at him yet. Pushing up from your thighs suddenly, trying to shake off it hoping he would ignore your sudden outburst did you turn only to find Jon rummaging through something he kept on him. Tossing it to you, your brows narrowed before unravelling the small bundle and thus a bright amused look came over you instantly.

“Dare I ask why you have these on you ready to go?”

Twisting his face in a playful doubt, Jon ran his hand still through your hair. Watching you take one from it before wrapping it back up for you, and tucking it away on your own person. “I wasn't going to bring you here if I didn't learn how to take care of you.” He said it so passively that it clashed with the lift in your heart. Mint and Ginger. He had brought it from Winterfell with him, knowing it would help should you get ill at times.

The mixture easing things in more then one way, you washed the rest of it with water before Jon pulled you back to his side towards the horses. Only you grasped at his arm first, turning you back to him with a look of ask in your eyes. “You're too sweet to me, do you know that?”

Running a hand through your hair, Jon leaned right into you, only to stop inches from your lips when you raised yourself up to meet him halfway. “Didn't you just throw up?”

The drop in your expression as you looked at him flatly. “Really Snow, you think I don't now why you brought mint of all things?” He only laughed in response. Smirking with a slight shake of your head, you playfully scolded. “Taking care of me only as long as it benefits you.”

Jon nudged your nose with his, “I love you.”

Eyes rolling before you leaned up to meet his lips, Jon kept you there for as long as it took to steal the breath you had just gotten back. Somethings it seemed, sweet, teasing, or otherwise had yet to change.

And thus it continued on. Another day of travelling the cold and empty, and another night spent in routine ending with Jon unwilling to sleep without being inside of you, nor you without him. Underneath him, pressing you into whatever tree or rocks he was impatient enough to take you against, or perched in his lap as the only sound anywhere for miles in the night was skin slapping together as he would bounce you roughly on his cock, echoing through the walls of your tent.

The only things you had out here were each other, and you knew the further you got here, the more desperate it was going to get. But you knew, no matter what it cost to get there, you wouldn't wish to be away from Jon no matter what.

If your second chance together was to die at the end of his journey, you both would make it count until the very final moment. You came back to life, to bring Jon back to life. You loved many in your life and always would, but this was where you were meant to be.

Following him to the very end, no matter what unknowns were awaiting there for you.

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

19 notes · View notes

thatlonelycactus · 3 months

Text

Somehow the way David and Michael acted The Kiss™️ makes it both more and less painful. This is gonna sound weird but like- by no account is it what one would describe as “romantic”. In fact, “romantic” is the last thing I would describe it as.

In no known universe was that kiss “romantic” because that’s not what it was supposed to be.

It was supposed to be earth shattering, selfish, hopeless, hopeful. It was a last hidden, desperate “I love you”, it was searching for something that neither of them could find, a final plea. It’s savage and selfish and brewing with love and war and peace and hatred. It was saying “goodbye” to what could have been forever. It was a kiss trying to express the same amount of emotion that had stayed inside each of them for 6000 years. It was a kiss doing the job of millions of other kisses.

Maybe if it was a smaller, quieter kiss, we would have wondering what could have been. Maybe we would have cried out just as much because what else has their relationship been aside from a few, well veiled remarks and actions? Maybe we could have convinced ourselves that that was all they needed for now.

But for the first time in millennia, they went big. Crowley went for it. Because Aziraphale was trying to make a change- so why shouldn’t he? Why should he just throw it out there because it might be his last chance- their last chance. Because, in 6000 years the closest he had come to saying those three words were just small, inconspicuous remarks of friendship. Why should he raise the white flag now, when they had come so close to having a life together?

Because, after an eternity of small, quiet “I love you”s, why should their final try at saying it aloud to each other be quiet as well?

#Like on one hand I wish the kiss was more like say #The one from #Richard II #but I think that’s what they needed #Because to Crowley #It’s not selfish or a crime or whatever #It’s a final hurrah #One last chance to make things right #But anywayyy #ineffable divorce #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #go s2 #ineffable husbands

157 notes · View notes

lawfullyandlovely · 4 months

Text

*sighs*

The comments for AKAA honestly breaks my heart

Like....someone literally had the audacity to say Haruka was never neglected and he's just some spoiled brat that thought of himself as 'weak, cute and lovable' therefore attention should never be taken away from him

And someone else said that Weakness was now 'useless' cause AKAA showed his 'true colors'

.......................We're talking about the same Haruka Sakurai, right?

#I seriously love listening to the song but the comments honestly are just hard to look at #Like....ppl were comparing him to real life psychopaths?? Saying lock him away and throw away the key?#Ughhhh his mischaracterization frustrates me to no end #I hate the two extremes of him being an uwu bby but the hate the selfish murder extreme even more #And like....I do call him התינוק שלי (my little bby) a lot but I do know his crimes #And he does too and came in feeling guilty!#And guess what? He still feels guilty! It's called 'He's latching onto whatever lifeline he has to make him think what he did is not wrong'#It's what traumatized ppl in denial do #feeling starved for comfort so I post this on my f/o blog #milgram haruka #haruka sakurai #sakurai haruka #milgram

17 notes · View notes

martyrbat · 1 year

Text

the snow queen – batman tales: once upon a crime

[ID: Victor Fries (aka Mister Freeze) trapped in ice. His head is light blue and is enclosed in a jagged glass helmet. Red goggles hide his eyes as The Snow Queen delicately kisses his temple. In the next two panels, Victor's skin is no longer discoloured and his goggles are off. He melancholically talks to Batman, his icy comatose broken by her kiss.

Batman asks him why did he come here and Victor replies, “This place holds special meaning. It's where she first skated. It's where we first met. My Snow Queen... my Nora. I realize now, my memories of her have kept me frozen in time.” Batman wraps his arm around Victor to help support him as he guides him to safety. He sympathizes, “Sometimes it's not just bad memories that stop us from living, but good ones, too” END ID]

#just this part because im still so >:/ at that recent characterization of him as maliciously cruel and selfish #instead of a man desperately clinging to the memory and belief that somehow someday he can have the love of his life back #yes its still selfish in a sense of 'she wouldn't want this/look at what you've becomed in the name of your love' but the intent??#btas peaked :// having sympathetic villains isn't weak writing or makes the final showdown have less stakes or whatever #it makes your character leave an impact by being a reflection to the uglier side of emotions and what anyone is capable of doing #especially for a character like bruce !!! like !!!!#they both fight for love. they're both criminals wanting to protect what they love. theyre both the embodiment of mourning #anyways.#c: batman tales: once upon a crime | the snow queen #crypt's panels #mister freeze #nora fries #victor fries #batman

66 notes · View notes

breitzbachbea · 6 months

Text

I also really need to get back to translating Italian books so that I can get as fluent as possible as soon as possible and finally learn more about Risorgimento and Separatist Sicily. Because deep down, Michele knows that THAT's what he'd like to be and never, ever is.

#beablabbers #almost finished with my book and GRSMBPFLS CIHSBCS :) I'm so normal about how my Hetalia AU is tied to canon.#What happens when you mirror real life struggles in the selfish world of crime. people who so desperately want to fight for something.#Something greater than themselves but they can't without giving up their power so play-pretend it is #Let God judge at the end of the day. Or whatever cosmology they believe in.

7 notes · View notes

harmonictechnicality · 11 months

Text

Steve wakes up around three or four in the morning almost every night. He’s always careful getting out of bed. Small movements, slow footsteps. Minimal bones cracking. Doesn’t want to wake Eddie. Not that he needs to be this careful because his boyfriend could sleep through several natural disasters (and if someone bothered to wake him in this scenario, he’d put an impotency curse on them or some equally fucked-up shit).

But that’s one of the reasons why they work. Not because of the sad-dick curse thing. They just exist on different sides of the scale. The raging insomniac and the deepest sleeper known to mankind. It balances out in the weirdest possible way.

Still… he’s always careful. Can never be too careful.

Steve doesn’t really do much when he wakes up at this ungodly hour. He sort of walks around their duplex, drinks a glass of water, opens a window to breathe in that pre-sunrise air. It fills his lungs up differently than normal air. At least, it feels like it does.

Like less people are breathing it in. Like he can take up space without feeling selfish. The logic doesn’t really add up but whatever. Concepts like logic and science are overrated at four in the morning.

After another lap around the place, he slides back into the covers, drapes an arm over Eddie’s waist. His t-shirt is rumpled up to his chest, so Steve is met with linen-warm skin. His fingers curve into Eddie’s sides, pulling himself closer.

Steve yawns, breathing out all of his pre-sunrise air. Inhales the scent of his boyfriend instead. Smiles like an idiot into the pillow because it’s totally a fair trade.

And Eddie… well, he doesn’t even budge - doesn’t even stir when Steve settles in next to him. He just continues to wheeze through his nose, mouth slightly open. Not quite a snore, but Steve will probably tease him about it in the morning regardless.

This right here. This makes Steve’s shitty sleep cycle worth it.

The sun pokes through the window blinds. Eddie pokes Steve’s cheek. Too much poking going on for Steve who definitely didn’t get enough sleep, per usual.

“You got up last night.” Eddie mumbles, still lazily poking him.

“How’d you know?”

“Bed felt different.”

Oh. The way Eddie says it. A crash of honesty. His voice sounds weathered, unused from sleeping. Barely awake. It sort of hits Steve’s heart like a crime he didn’t even know he was capable of committing.

Honestly, he doesn’t get why last night would be any different. Steve gets up most nights, not just last night. But Eddie looks particularly wounded by this (new) realization, so Steve probably shouldn’t point that out right now. Maybe in the afternoon when Eddie is more alert. Less… offended.

“Well, I’m back now.” Steve grabs Eddie’s index finger, the one poking him, and places it over his own lips. Bites at it gently till Eddie pulls away in protest. He’s smiling as he swears. Lets out a string of half-hearted threats about how he’s gonna pour Steve’s hair supplies down the sink for such a vicious attack.

It’s a little irresistible when Eddie gets like this. When he’s the pouty one instead of Steve. All he can think to do is reach out, curl his hand underneath Eddie’s chin and pull him in. Eddie moves so easily, gives up his one-sided fight long enough to kiss Steve. Hands running up his back, legs hooking around Steve’s thighs.

Drowsy, morning kisses are so good. So, so good. Their lips feel heavier, their motions feel thicker. Every touch is guided by pure need. Steve fucking needs this, to feel Eddie curving into him, arms framing his own, groaning every damn time they break away. It all makes Steve feel needed too. Needed by the guy who changed the trajectory of his life by asking Steve to ‘hang out or something’ two years ago.

Or Something turned out to be absolutely everything.

“New rule.” Eddie huffs, drags his lips down Steve’s jaw. “For every hour you spend awake during the night, you owe me.”

Steve laughs. “I owe you, huh?”

“Mhmm. You owe me an extra hour of wallowing in bed together in the morning.”

“What about work?”

“The hours will have to rollover, I guess. Accrue interest.” Eddie lifts up from Steve’s neck, eyebrows raised. Clearly having too much fun with this. “We can hash out the details over coffee and burnt toast.”

Typically, Steve would play along, continue the little comedy routine that Eddie starts up. But he’s so damn tired from the lack of sleep and early fucking wake-up call. So instead, he tugs Eddie back down by his collar and whispers, “Whatever you say, baby.”

Because that’s what it boils down to. He’d do anything for Eddie to kiss him this deep, till their lips blister and their jaws ache. Steve would give every fragment of lovesick happiness in his heart, just to hear the way Eddie says his name all breathy and raw.

He can’t say that out loud, dear god no. Eddie would mock his ass into next century. So Steve just hums into Eddie’s mouth, twists the collar of his shirt enough to permanently wrinkle it. They’re verging into that gray area between cable-approved makeout sessions and dry humping till the alarm goes off. If there wasn’t an alarm to worry about, Steve would already have Eddie’s boxers already his ankles and moaning his name the way he likes it best.

Whoever invented alarm clocks are the ultimate boner-killer.

Steve ducks his head into the crook of Eddie’s neck, lays a few quick kisses on top of his shoulder. Hopes that translates to, ‘I wanna suck you off till there’s nothing left, but I’m a boring fucking adult with a boring fucking job.’

The translation must be clear enough because Eddie rolls off of him and heads to the bathroom. Seems just as grumpy about it as Steve. Good. They can be cranky together.

When he comes back out, they get ready for their respective work shifts. Steve looks over, watches Eddie struggle with a tangled portion of his hair, before giving up. Accepting defeat way faster than Steve ever would. “Uh, Eddie?” He tries his best to hide his snickering through the question.

“Yeah?”

“Why does it matter if I wake up sometimes?” Okay. Most times.

“You’re gone.” Eddie shrugs. “Simple as that.”

The reaction is too mellow for Eddie though. Shrugging and dismissiveness? Nah. He’s downplaying the shit out of whatever he’s feeling, and Steve’s not having it.

“What do you mean it’s simple?”

“It’s just… I don’t know. Doesn’t seem fair.” Eddie checks the clock, then sighs. “I want more time.”

More time? More time with Steve or more time in general? Either way, it doesn’t add up. They’re young - they have all the fucking time they could ever want. Also, they live together and have all the same friends. It’s not exactly a logical theory.

Then again, neither is Steve’s ‘pre-sunrise air supply’ theory. None of it makes sense. But at least they’re here. Wanting fresh air and each other. That’s enough logic for a lifetime.

“Hey.” Steve walks over and takes Eddie’s hand. He taps over his ring finger, the one that symbolizes something they can’t have. Not now, not in this society. Still. It means something. So he stares intently at it, rubs over the place where a ring might sit. Thinks that Eddie would pick out something bold. Something gaudy and perfectly him.

More time. Steve gets it, he does. He releases Eddie’s hand and nods. Smiles.

“I’ll steal us as much time as I can, Eddie Munson.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #this is the first little thing I've written since submitting my Big Bang draft #it’s a lot softer than my normal stuff but hey #insomnia writing do be like that sometimes #(so yeah - I projected my sleep problems onto Steve)#(and yeah - I projected my tangly hair onto Eddie)#let me liveeeeeeee

2K notes · View notes

frownyalfred · 12 days

Note

Picturing Martha and Thomas- especially Thomas- as shallow aristocrats who just don't quite understand everything that Bruce has become. Why he has so endeavored to stopping crime, to adopting children, to throwing all that he is to "fix" Gotham. Their idea of activism is typical- galas and programs that can be deductible on taxes. Not whatever Bruce has gotten mixed up with, with no sleep, saving people they don't see as valuable like addicts and people who 'got themselves into their own mess" with familial cycles. and they REALLY just don't understand his children at all. (this applies more to Thomas overall, because of some depictions in the comics. I should really just write my own story but I LOVE the idea that Bruce has glorified his parents much, and thought that his goodness came from them, when it really came from himself.)

*resists the urge to write this fic too* oh my god what if they're only good in his memory. what if he and everyone else idolized them because they were dead. what if they were flawed and sometimes selfish and don't want to help Gotham like Bruce does. what if Bruce has to reconcile his mission with their current beliefs. what if they don't like his kids? WHAT IF THEY DON'T LIKE HIS KIDS??

#asks #anon #fic ideas #bruce wayne #batman #dc #batfamily

396 notes · View notes

spidernuggets · 4 months

Text

Jason Todd x Reader

Part 2 to this.

Thanks for the support guys, sending lots of love <3

It's been 2 years or so since you moved out of Gotham. Well. Not moved out moved out. You couldn't leave. Gotham was your home. And even with those painful memories of Jason demanding you to leave, he's still the same person who you shared those long-lasting kisses with, who texted you every 5 minutes while he was on patrol to make sure you were safe at home, who was able to give you the first, real experience of love and devotion for the first time in your life.

But now you feel numb. Every time you caught a glimpse of your reflection from puddles on the ground or the shine of a window, you saw that gut-wrenching, eerie grin of the Joker. The grin of your father who once killed your ex-boyfriend and your passionate love.

But you broke Jason's trust. Maybe if you told him sooner, he wouldn't have cast you out. Maybe he would've sat down for a second and realised you aren't the same person as your father.

Staying at the next town over beside Gotham wasn't a bad idea, however. You were able to reflect on yourself, realising that you had no power over your father, and there was physically nothing you could've done to save Robin. But you've repeated in your head over and over that you are not the Joker. You weren't the ones who committed those crimes. You weren't the ones who killed so many innocent people. The only guilt that would eat at you was that you were selfish and a coward to stand up to the Joker and at least attempt to save someone. Bht you didn't. And you hoped that if someone knew your name, who knew your story, that they'd understand. That they'd be scared, too.

You were able to buy a run down... apartment?..house? Whatever it was, it was, unfortunately, all you could've afforded at the moment. And worse, it reminded you too much of your room in the warehouse. Minus the dried blood. But it had a horrible stench of weed, which took you forever to get rid of.

Unlike the warehouse, however, you were at least able to make it a little more homey. You didn't have any furniture, but you did have a cleaner mattress plus bed sheets, knick knacks scattered across the floors, a fake plant, or two on the floor beside you bed. And lastly, though you really should move on, a framed picture of you and Jason. You put this directly beside your bed, where it would be the first thing you see in the morning.

You know that what Jason told you was cruel. You could never forget it. But you had the decency to understand him. He dated someone he trusted. And unfortunately that someone just happened to be the daughter of his murderer. Of course, he'd think you're working with the Joker. Especially if that camera footage showed that you showed no effort to help Robin.

So, what the hell have you been doing when you went away? Well, as said, you couldn't stay out of Gotham for very long. You always went in and out, just for the nostalgia. Just because you had bad memories in Gotham didn't mean you didn't have good ones either. You just assumed that since your leave, you've been fired from Bat Burgers, so you decided to avoid that vicinity for now.

The real reason, though, was the soup kitchen. You could never step foot inside ever again, in fear that Jason would still be volunteering there, and you wouldn't want him to have a breakdown. So you just anonymously dropped off bags of produce of whatever you could afford during the day and quickly departed without being seen. But you missed the kids. Yeah, Jason made you feel loved romantically, but those kids, they felt like family. And how you missed diane so much, too. She was like a mother to you.

It pained you that you couldn't go see the kids anymore, but as you heard them laugh and yell just from the other side of the entrance, you smiled. You always took quick glimpses of them, and some of them grew taller. Some of them formed freckles on their faces. But your smile would slightly falter when they mention how much they missed you. And by that time, you'd just drop off the bag and make your way back home.

You weren't proud of it, but when you found yourself completely broke, you decided, fuck it, and started nicking a things from grocery stores, just for you to survive. And in moments like them, you think to yourself... am I slowly becoming like...him? You shake your head, thinking that the Joker had committed the most heinous, unforgivable crimes, while vigilantes wouldn't really care for petty theft, and the cops wouldn't give two shits anyway, especially if it's only stores running on the poor side of Gotham being robbed.

God, how you hated the police system. They'd only help when the richies were being mugged. Even Batman neglected the poor. Sometimes, you'd smile when you'd see Jason helping the kids of Crime Alley. The memory warmed your heart. Too bad you couldn't make more memories similar to those ones.

You rushed your quick drop off of fruits and veggies to the soup kitchen. It wasn't much. You think an empolyee spotted you trying to conceal a small box of strawberries in your jacket.

You felt some familiarity when you turned to make a run for it when you ran into somethi- someone.

"oW- literally what the fuck-" You hiss, grabbing onto your scrunched up face, not noticing the person you walked into. "Watch where you're going, nit-" You looked up to glare at the person, but oh, how you could never forget those gorgeous green eyes. Those green eyes you fell too far in love with. The green eyes that would sparkle when its owner would rant about the new chapter he was reading in The Catcher in the Rye. The ones that used to look at you so lovingly. But now, it is replaced with burning resentment.

"You're the one not watching where they're going."

What a familiar setting. But instead of the joking tone of Jason correcting that you're the one not watching their step, he means it now. As if he was some stranger to you, annoyed that some rando foolishly walked into him and tried to blame him.

And suddenly, you're back at the Batcave. Suddenly, you're back on your knees, looking up at the hurt, screaming man who towered over you. Suddenly, you hear once more if I ever see you again, I'll end you.

You don't reply to his spiteful response. But you notice your breathing getting heavy. You try to make a run for it past him, but what he says next makes you stop.

"You're selfish for coming here," he grumbles, barely audible, but you hear it. You hear it so clearly. And it pisses you off. What the hell does that mean?

"I get you hurting me because I was Robin. Because I'm close to Batman. But coming here to hurt these kids?"

You turn to him, disbelief on your face. "Excuse me?" You spit.

"These kids did nothing wrong. So leave them alone. Leave Diane alone. Leave Gotham." He says, surprisingly pretty calm.

You already feel the tears brim your eyes. "Fuck you," you say quietly, choking out a sarcastic laugh as you turned to walk away. But before you can leave his line of sight, you turn to face him once more. "I didn't do shit, okay?! I made a mistake, but I didn't. Do. Shit,"you claimed as you walk away in a fast pace. And this makes Jason fume in anger. Yes, you did. You lied to him. He told you his secrets. You were about to give him up back to the Joker. You put his family that he worked so hard and long to make amends in jeopardy. Right?

Jason follows after you in anger, pulling you through a narrow alleyway. Luckily, the neighbourhood was quiet, and no one was around to see this private situation.

"Don't talk to me like you did nothing wrong," Jason hisses. And you yank yourself away from his grip.

"You never told me you were Arkham Knight. Why do I owe you who I was?!" You snarl at him.

"But I did!" He yells back. "At least I eventually told you because you were always nagging that I was out late! And you didn't even return the favour by telling me you're the daughter of someone I hate the most! You didn't commit any of the same crimes he did? Fine. But you're still an accessory. You stood there watching him torture me. And I bet you stood there with every other victim that he killed, feeling absolutely no remorse. That makes you just as disgusting as him."

By this time, tears were already rolling down your cheeks. Your cheeks burned red, and you could feel a headache forming.

"And the worst part," Jason continues quietly. "I still can't get you out of my head. A stupid itch at the back of my mind saying that I still love you," he says in shame.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. What the fuck? No. No, why the fuck would he say that. That's selfish of him.

"Fuck you!" You yell. "I'm sorry, Jason. I'm so fucking sorry, but I couldn't do anything! You saw it yourself! I was a kid, I couldn't do anything! I was scared! And I did NOT watch him torture you- I wasn't even aware you were there until he killed you! I didn't even remember it was you when I first met you!"

"BULLSHIT"

"IT'S NOT FUCKING BULLSHIT," you cried, panting, your adrenaline dying down. You rake your hair back, tangled between your fingers as your tears begin to dry up.

"I'm sorry, Jason," you sighed. "I really am, I- I'm sorry I couldn't save you. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you who I was but.. but not telling you was protecting you! The fewer people who knew who I was, the safer everyone would be, especially after you told me that you're Red Hood..." You took a breath. "I spent my whole childhood believing my dad when he told me that no one could love me. But then I met you. You taught me how to love and- and how to be loved! And I fucked this up, and I'm sorry. But I'm too tired to keep arguing. I finally accepted that I'm not the same person as my father and- and I'm not going to let you take that away from me because it's the only thing I have left.."

Jason stares down at you. You have no idea what's going through your head, and right now, you don't have the energy to find out what it is. So, you slightly shake your head in defeat and start to wall out of the cramped alley.

"Oh," you say before leaving. "And for your information, I already left gotham. Just stopping for a visit," you mutter before finally leaving Hason on his own.

He shouldn't believe you. How can he trust you?

You arrived back at your house. Your body went limp, laying on the mattress as a final tear soaked through your pillow.

You absolutely hate how you know that you still love Jason Todd. He was the first person to ever help you what love truly felt like but also showed you how fast such a strong bond can crumble in a few minutes.

As Jason is remained to be alone in the alley, he thinks to himself. It's crazy. You've been raised by the Joker. The Joker. How are you raised by such an abomination but still be the most angelic, beautiful person to cross the planet.

He walks out of the alley and goes towards the soup kitchen where he'd start his volunteer work. Before he walks in, he notices the small bag that you left behind. He picks it up and opens it to see fruits and vegetables inside. He shrugs, not trying to think so much about it and heads inside.

As soon as he steps in, he's greeted by the kids, and his gave brightens in delight. But he sees some of the expressions falter.

"Where's Y/n?" One of them asks. "You two are always together... we haven't seen her for a long, long, loooong time," they frown.

Jason was about to awkwardly answer when Diane came up to him. "Jason, my dear boy! How was your rest, honey?" She asks. Ever since he found out you were the Joker's daughter, he couldn't work, he couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep. He didn't have the energy of volunteering, so he rang up Diane saying that he wasn't in the best spirits, in which she completely understood, saying that you would be around to help anyway. He was about to answer to say that he wasn't so sure about that, but Diane hung up, telling him to get a good rest, and that she'll see him soon.

Jason nods and sends her a sweet smile. "Yeah, thanks. Had a lot in my hands at the time," he explains, but Diane shakes her head.

"Don't even worry, sweetie. It's been calm the past few days," she says, looking down at Jason's hands, and a sad look reaches her eyes. "Is that from Y/n? She always left a bag of food outside, thinking she's slick. Tsk, foolish girl," she jokes. "She hasn't been around in a while. You two are dating, no? What happened? Of course, it's not my place to know. But I'm here if you need to talk, sweetheart," she says, placing a comforting hand to his cheek before walking back to the kitchen.

A little girl tugs on Jason's jacket.

"Jay-jay?" She calls out as Jason bends down to her eye level. "Is, N/n okay?" She asks, worry in her face. Jason attempts to send her a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure she's fine," he responds. "She's a big girl, like you. I'll check up on her to make sure she's okay, if that'll make you feel better," he offers.

"You promise?" She asks, holding her tiny pinky out.

Jason sighs. "I promise," he says, intertwining his larger pinky around hers.

Unfortunately for Jason, he never breaks a pinky promise to the kids. And he would never lie to them. So, on Jason's next scheduled patrol, he'll ditch and find you to make sure you're safe. That's it. Nothing else. He doesn't need to speak to you. Just a quick glance to see if you're not doing anything stupid.

Wait.

God fucking damn it.

You told Jason you already left Gotham. How the hell was he supposed to find you??

Shit, right. Diane said you always leave bags of food outside their door. So you couldn't have lived far, right?

Okay, he'll do a quick sweep of the ourskirts of Gotham, then he'll check the edge of the next town over.

It's been a long, tiring night, to say the least. He started searching the outskirts of Gotham around 6 pm and started his search of the next town from 1am.

He was about to give up his search when he heard a man yelling. He looks down to see a figure running out of a 24 hour convenient store as a man in a uniform yells after you. Jason rolls his eyes, hopping down to the roof to stop you.

You run pretty far, but you look back to see if the store owner was chasing you. You smile to see that you weren't being followed, but as you face back forward, your head hits against an extremely hard, metalic surface.

"Fuck! No- why!" You yell, pressing a palm to to your forhead, where the impact was laid. And low and behild, you see the infamous Red Hood standing in front of you.

"You know I'm always not looking where I'm going! Can you at least have the decency not to be in my way!" You hiss, swerving past him. "Besides, I don't want to speak to you," you mutter, heading home, which wasn't that far.

"I'm not here to talk. Anna just wanted me to check if you're safe." He claims as you scoff.

"I'm alive, aren't I?" You sarcastically say, grabbing the keys for your door. Jason inspects your house.

"This is where you live?" He blurts out with clear concern.

"What of it," you mumble, stepping in. Neither of you really commented on the fact that Jason let's himself in, continuing to critique your humble abode.

"There's mould and cracks everywhere," Jason says, looking around.

"Great observation, sherlock. Guess what? I don't care. It's a roof over my head, and it's a 10 times upgrade compared to the warehouse. At least there isn't dried blood everywhere," you say.

"What? You didn't have a proper room?"

"Joker wasn't really a 'world's greatest dad mug' kind of guy." You say, laying on the mattress, keeping one leg bent upwards as the other lays flat. One arm is tucked under your head as the other is laid over your eyes.

Jason wanders around the run-down bulding, looking at your belongings scattered on the floor, which used to sit on the shelves and windowsill of his much more comfortable apartment.

But a shimmer catches the corner of his eyes. He sees a frame, the picture turned away from him, directly beside where your head lies.

He cautiously walks towards you, taking a peek of the picture. And he could already tell, by the smiling faces and puckered lips of the photo, that it was his favourite picture of the two of you. He had a copy of the photo stuck in his room somewhere in his apartment.

And the guilt slowly eats at him.

"I'm sorry," Jason quietly says.

"For what?" You mutter, obvious that you're exhausted.

"Everything I said." He replies, sitting on the floor beside you. "For telling you to leave Gotham, thinking you were anything like the Joker... saying I'd kill you if I saw you again.. I didn't mean it," he says, his voice getting raspier by the second. "It was horrible of me to say."

"It's whatever, Jay... Jason," you reply, shifting to turn away from him, your back facing him. "I'd probably think the same if I were you."

His heart sunk.

"I should've believed you," he says, his voice raising a little. All he needs is for you to say you forgive him for saying all that shit. Because of him, you think so lowly of yourself, and that you love in such a horrible state, where instead the two of you could be cosy, wrapped in softer blankets in his bed in what ysed to be your shared apartment. He doesn't think he can take it if you think so harshly of yourself.

"But you didn't. And... and that's okay. I mean.." You try to hide your sniffle by burying your face into your pillow, but you aren't as discreet as you think as Jason obviously catches you. "I don't think anyone in this world would trust the daughter of a psycho," you try to joke, sending a weak, pathetic laugh.

"But you proved to me so many times that you aren't him. And I completely ignored all those times and started labelling you for someone you're not! How are you not mad- how are you not yelling at me?" Jason says, almost in a desperate whine. He needs some sort of emotional reaction from you. But you look so... dead.

You sigh as you sit up, avoiding eye contact. "Because you were right, Jason. You had every right not to trust me. I broke your trust by not telling you- I couldn't even save you."

Jason shakes his head vigorously. "No- No, no, no. Sweetheart, no," he didn't mean for the nickname to slip out, but no one mentions it. He reaches for your hands, which fit so perfectly in his larger ones. He held your hands in his grasp, pulling them to his chest, making sure you're looking at him.

"I was wrong- It wasn't your responsibility to save me. You were a kid- we were both kids! There was nothing we could've done. We were both kids dragged into Batman and Joker's stupid game of theirs! This isn't either of our faults! And you didn't tell me you were Joker's daughter... and that's okay. I'm sorry it took so long for me to understand why you didn't tell me. The Joker is wrong, Y/n. You can be loved... You are loved. Because I love you so much that it hurts," he admits, brushing strands of your hair away from your face so that he can look into your eyes. And you can look back into his. His gorgeous green eyes that can finally see love again. "And I understand if you don't lo-"

"I love you so much, Jay," you sniffle, smiling at him. Jason's eyes soften as he smiles, his head leabing forward and his lips resting on your forhead. "I'm sorry," you say, and Jason just shushes you, but you continue. "And I forgive you for what you said to me," you quietly say, shifting to lean your head on his shoulder.

"I forgive you, too, my love," Jason replies, his hand reaching up to softly caress your cheek. "I'll stay the night. Okay? Then tomorrow, first thing, you pack your stuff and move back in with me, okay?"

You smile as you nod, your tears finally withering away as you lie down in your bed, watching Jason strip off his heavy armour, laying in with you in just his tactical pants and compression shirt on. He wraps his arms around you in a warm embrace, and suddenly, you feel safe again. You feel warm again.

You feel loved again.

I'm so sorry if this is ass 😭. I really wanted this finished, and it's like 2am. But i really hope you'd still enjoy!! 🙏🙏

Taglist 🏷: @tyrone200 @pank0w @lorosette @havlindzk @achromaticerebus @demonicparalysis @fairyeoll

sorry if you requested part 2 and was not tagged, maybe because of mention priv settings? nonetheless, i hope you like it!

522 notes · View notes

jaspvids · 1 month

Text

The Diagnosis Of David

Disclaimer: I am by no means a mental health professional. This is just a meta-analysis.

What do we think of when we think of David?

His values of kindness. Optimism. Hope. Conviction. Passion. His drive to do his best every single day. The way he always makes an effort to reach out to others.

But also:

Attachment issues. People pleaser. Rose-colored glasses wearer. And at times, though the fandom doesn’t want to acknowledge it — Selfish. Unstable. Rude. Hypocritical. Kind of a dick.

See this video I made;

He’s complex, so let’s try to unpack him, and figure out what he’s got going on under that floof.

On David’s Childhood

David has been through a number of traumatic events in his childhood, most notably:

Witnessing Jasper fall to his near-death.

Finding Jasper, and being almost mauled by bears during the escape.

Clown school was apparently very bad, given the flashback-like reaction he had when it was mentioned. I’m unsure of his age when this occurred, however.

The fight with Jasper at the cave before they parted ways.

Losing Jasper. He says Cameron told him he was picked up by his parents, but I’m not convinced it’s not just his mind trying to erase painful memories.

As far as what we don’t necessarily see in the show, but can infer, David’s father was either not present or not great. He dreamt Cameron was his real father, as seen below.

And we all know Cameron is an awful father figure to begin with.

Yet, that’s better to David, apparently, than whatever he had at home. Which implies it was likely a pretty bad situation.

This can also be backed up by his attachment to the camp — growing up (and even now) it seems to be more of a home to him than his actual home.

That’s a home that hasn’t ever been mentioned, by the way. Contrary to Gwen, we know absolutely nothing about his family. He hasn’t talked about them once, if I recall correctly.

David is often open with emotions, if not wearing his heart on his sleeve. So why would he never mention his family and home?

We know why.

Even as an adult, he has retained this attachment to Cameron (who has in turn, continued to use this attachment to his benefit). He gets very excited about helping Cameron change in “keep the change” — because he needs to believe people who hurt him can get better. Otherwise, it’s too painful to bear.

The Loss Of Jasper

Part of his childhood, but significant enough to warrant its own section.

Jasper and David had a very interesting relationship. We’ve seen in the past that David was pessimistic, foulmouthed, and hot-tempered, directly compared to an optimistic, peppy, popular Jasper.

But then Jasper saw Cameron’s real self, and David received a modicum of praise for what was likely the first time based on his reaction. And so, they basically did somewhat of a switcheroo.

(David takes on many traits of Jasper after this experience, showing that he does admire him at the end of the day. I believe these traits are the foundation of David’s many masks.)

Despite the whole shebang, further episodes show us that they form a strong bond (or maintain one, we don’t know what happened before the first Jasper and David episode.)

What makes this friendship especially crucial in David’s development is that I believe Jasper was the first person to truly stand up for David.

David is, as we have seen, easily manipulated. Jasper picks up on this, and knowing Cameron’s just trying to use his best friend, tries to take Cameron down.

Jasper essentially died trying to protect David.

If Jasper hadn’t died, I don’t think David would have ended up as gullible and dependent as he is. If he had the more rational and realistic Jasper by his side during the rest of his developmental years, I believe things would have ended up much, much differently.

With Jasper’s death, there seems to be nobody else at camp who knows of Cameron’s crimes, or possibly, doesn’t want to speak out about them. Nobody to stand up for him. Nobody to redirect him.

So there’s nobody to stop the unhealthy-attachment-train from picking up speed.

Cameron And David’s Relationship

Cameron is manipulative and abusive towards David. This even becomes physical:

Despite this, David continues to idolize him as is seen in many cases of abuse. He works his ass off maintaining Cameron’s camp. Cameron’s approval makes or breaks him, because this is the man he sees as a father, unfortunately.

In addition, David is unable to let go of the hope that Cameron can change, because he’s convinced himself that deep down Cameron is still “good”, based on his skewed perception of him. And we all know how that ended.

But as Diane from Bojack Horseman once said —

And that is David’s problem — he wants so much for there to be a “deep down”, that there will be a day where Cameron showers him with praise and throws signed adoption forms at him, etcetera.

He judges Cameron not on who he actually is, but who he wants him to be. And so, the unhealthy attachment remains.

(Which is, of course, incredibly destructive to his mental health.)

Other Things We Know About His Mental Health, From Canon

We know he takes meds.

We know he has (sometimes dissociative) panic attacks.

We know he has been seen to suddenly snap, even to the point of violence.

My Final Conclusion: C-PTSD

(As the trauma has been not just one event, but many over the course of his life, and among other reasons, I believe CPTSD fits better than PTSD.)

David meets much of the criteria, most notably:

Lack of emotional regulation

Dissociation

Flashbacks

Anxiety

Guilt and shame

Distorted perception of abuser

Relationship difficulties

Okay this was long I’m tired good night.

#camp camp #camp camp david #cc david

316 notes · View notes

kelocitta · 7 months

Text

In honor of the @rw-ship-showdown I wanted to write about Artihunter as someone who jokingly slapped them together pre-downpour and still thinks they are actually very compelling. Just not in the super soft love wins kinda way (Although I get why people like that more) And the only way I know how to do that is talking too much so heres a far too long slug essay-

Obviously the slugcats don't offer a ton of characterization but theres not nothing to work with. Their stories, whether by their roles in it or the overarching themes do provide a backbone to work with. Even gameplay itself can provide a bit. (for some more than others) Hunter, to me, is ultimately a story about selflessness. The goal is to revive Moon, which is very much an act of kindness from both Hunter and NSH. But the weight of that action is much more significant for Hunter- Hunter is deeply sick. They're on the clock, and for all their skill in combat none of that will ultimately help them to survive longer than their body can hold out. Moon is a close friend of NSH but that means little Hunter- Hunter really gets next to nothing out of helping them, and ultimately pays quiet a bit spending their limited time alive fighting to deliver that neuron so that someone else can live.

To spend ones limited days on helping another, in a game that very much stresses the unwavering cruelty of the world and nature- is pretty notable. (And you could even say that Hunter being the Hardmode of Rain World adds another layer to this)

And then we have Artificer. A storyline that very much stands out to people as more… villainous (so to speak) than the other slugcats. Artificer's story covers a lot of things. Trauma, violence, revenge, etc. Revenge is a bit of a selfish desire- That need to see someone hurt as they have hurt you. A punishment that ultimately does not fix whatever harm was done- but feels good to see because you were hurt and now those responsible share that pain.

Artificer's actions are founded in that need for revenge, their pups killed for overstepping boundaries they didn't know existed. Is it not fair for them to be angry at that, to punish the scavengers for their violence with their own? Why should the scavengers ever be forgiven when they and their pups were not? And that's how you get that loop- Harm for harm over and over.

The original action has been lost in a spiral of violence for violence. And here stands Artificer- their very spirit scarred. Not just because they sought revenge, but because they never ceased trying to scratch that itch for violence as an answer. Artificer only has two paths for their story- killing the scavenger king (Someone who, really, has little to do with the original 'crime' of the scavengers, but represents an important individual to them- as did the slugpups to Artificer), locking themselves as karma one for good and spending the rest of their life chasing creatures that no longer even fight back in a warped sense of closure- or to dissolve themselves in the acids of the void sea because they're too far gone to find any real peace.

They can't meaningfully recover from that state, not alone, twisting in on themselves. Even if they halt their actions, they've been using violence as a feeble defense against their own pain- violence that no longer has any real direction or basis. Artificer gets no real closure from killing the scavenger king. All they can do is continue the cycle, or try to scrub it away. No real peace in a prison of their own making. So you have a creature, who even with a strict timer on their life- a body that will crumble to disease, spends its last bit of time on saving another. And another who was so caught up in the pain of loss that were eaten alive by their own anger, poisoned their own soul on such a deep level even self-proclaimed gods have no solution for them. What peace can they offer each other? For Hunter, its only a fleeting moment of happiness- of selfish love, before their own body fails them. A bit of indulgence in something for themself. For Artificer, its a single, comforting thread to ground them again, something tangible to protect and care about again. But thats a thread that will ultimately be snapped under the cruel indifference of the world. Hunters timer will tick down regardless of if it takes another with it. Its a tragedy- its doomed to end badly. Whatever good it offers to either of them to find each other will only provide the fleeting comfort of a band-aid that will be ripped away too early. But all that can be worth indulging in anyway, if only for the moment. It doesn't change the ending, but the ending was never going to be happy. Its can so yuri

#rain world #rw shipping #tagging that just cause this is explicitly about that even though I usually dont do shipping stuff #with that said i dont even think this particular interpretation of a possible dynamic needs to be romantic its just kinda #about companionship in general. companionship thats going to absolutely shred an already unstable slug emotionally but thats #the point. friendship and love in spite of the unavoidable ending #just noticed this is like 80% theme analysis and 20% 'these go together just trust me'#but also theyre both girls because i want them to and also because im channeling hornet from hollow knight #who made me so deeply ill that my rain world tags still havent outcompeted my Hk tags because i drew her so much. so so much.#hunter is hornet coded to me and artificer is like if angela and gebura from lc combined into a deeply fucked up ferret #also i did tag the poll because they kinda inspired this but also. i wasnt gonna put all this out here WITHOUT a readmore thats embarassing #but i guess this is propaganda for a ship already seen as popular but like... idk i think theres something to it even as someone #who did literally slap them together originally because they were both red slugcats i considered girls. predownpour so we didnt have anythi #anyway hi tag readers i have so much work to do im being bad by writing about gay slugs. i need to get myself together #its so late this might just be nonsense bwaaaaaaa

649 notes · View notes

wrongplacerighttime · 2 months

Text

agent!harry x agent!fmc

the one where grace meets someone, harry gets jealous (again), and something unexpected is confessed. // little bunny part 4

write this and i don’t really like it but it’s set up for the next part so WHATEVER IDC 😭🤣 if it doesn’t make sense just…ignore it please 😭 i know it’s almost midnight and that means this probably won’t get seen but it’s HERE NOW.

little bunny masterlist

wc: 3.4k

tw: jealous!harry (briefly), phone sex, masturbation. (think that’s all.)

halley’s comet

To Grace, her worst personality trait was that she’s always been afraid of love. In middle school, a boy she couldn’t even remember the name of confessed his crush on her as she sat alone in the lunch room with her nose in a book, and a spark of hope twinkled in her eyes and her 13-year-old mind going haywire as she watched the blonde haired boy smile at her. Then he turned his head to look back at his friends, her eyes followed his and they were laughing. She never forgot the feeling of the stain of embarrassment marking her cheeks, or the single tear that fell onto the page she was reading when he turned and walked away.

Then, in high school, she had her first “real” boyfriend, Jake. For some reason or other, he had been pining after her and she couldn’t make sense of why the captain of the boys basketball team wanted anything to do with the quiet and reserved girl who only took advanced classes and spent her free time with her nose in the pages of a good book. He followed her like a lost puppy after one tutoring session with her, driving her around in his truck on backroads through the little town in Tennessee where they resided. She gave him everything, in every sense, and after he got it he left her high and dry. She still remembers the way the stars shined in the sky that night. It was just a blip in Jake’s timeline, but felt like a goddamned gorge in hers. As a girl, you never forget your first time…and he played her up so nicely. Being gentle with her, brushing the strands of hair from her lips, the kisses he left just behind her ear when she turned her head to the side. She didn’t leave her bed for weeks. She swore off love after that. It was real to her, even if it wasn’t to him.

Then came Harry, and to her, he was just like the rest of them, and she refused to let him get to her…keeping him at arms length even though she was insanely drawn to him. Then one day, she didn’t look at him like the rest of them. She knew in the back of her mind that sleeping with him would fuck with her head. They didn’t get along unless they’re fucking, and that can’t be healthy. Was it because they really didn’t like each other, or some other reason? She’s too selfish to give him up though, even if he might not want her that way, a relationship might be too much commitment for him but they didn’t talk about it. She had a feeling they never would. She pulls her coat tighter around her, snowflakes falling around her and her breath clouds in front of her. Her mind spins and she doesn’t pay attention as she looks towards the ground, running right into someone walking out of the building she was heading into.

“Oh my gosh. I am so sorry.” She looks up to a man she’s never seen around before, his eyes an icy blue that contrasts the green she’s been seeing in her daydreams.

“Not a problem. I wasn’t paying attention…entirely my fault. Apologies.” He smiles at her softly, an expression she mirrors back to him.

“No…I wasn’t either, it’s okay.” She blows a breath, a cloud forming in the cold air between them, and his smile widens. “Sorry, I haven’t seen you around before…I’m Grace Weston. I work on the sixth floor.”

“James Seeley. I’m in organized crime.” He pauses and smirks. “If you’re on the sixth floor that must mean…” He trails off and Grace nods, already knowing what he was going to say.

“You caught me. I’m a profiler.” She holds her hands up, pretending to surrender and he smiles at her. He looks across the street, pausing for a moment and looking back at her

“Can I get your number?” He asks, and her eyes widen. “I’m sorry! Was that too forward? I just think it would be nice to have a contact in the BAU…you know, for any future cases.” He rubs the back of his neck, a sign of his nervousness, and she pulls her lips in to prevent a smile from breaking at his nervousness. “I also think you’re pretty, and I’d like to get to know you better.” He rambles, and she nods. Maybe this would be good for her? He hands her his phone and she types her number into the designated spot, adding her name to the contact and hands it back to him. He briefly looks down at his wrist to check his watch and his brows pull together in the center.

“Sorry to be rude, but I’ve to get to a meeting downtown…and you know how traffic can be.” He says, jutting a thumb towards the direction he’s heading and she nods quickly.

“Oh, gosh! No, yeah! Again, so sorry for bumping into you.” She looks at him for a beat before looking towards the ground.

“Nothing to be sorry about. Glad it happened. See you around?” He asks and she nods again, making her way around him into the foyer through the sliding glass doors.

The rest of the team had made their way onto the jet and to Florida in the early hours of the morning, before the sun rose. Grace had sent Aaron a message privately before and asked if he cared if she stayed behind for this one. She was willing to consult from her position here and that was enough for him. A shiver travels down her spine and she thinks about the warmth of the Floridian sun and almost regrets her decision. She needed time away from Harry, she had convinced herself that much. She told herself if she kept her distance the feelings would go away. She wouldn’t feel this way if she stayed away from him, right? Love never came easy for her, and she was sure he wouldn’t make it easier either. She feels silly, falling for a person who was very much “no strings attached”. She can’t get him out of her head, her dreams filled with him, of a life with him…

She makes her way to her desk, shrugging her coat off and getting to work.

———

The day drags slowly and Grace is on the phone consulting with the team when the sound of the glass doors of the office open and tear her attention away from the video call. She looks up and sees the man from earlier this morning, James, walking over to her desk carrying what looks to be a bag of take out food. She grins over to him and he mirrors it back to her. He had sent her a message earlier after his meeting and asked if she wanted him to drop off lunch to her and she didn’t hesitate to say yes. He walks behind her, into the view of the camera before disappearing again and he perches himself on the edge of her desk. She silently thanks him as to not interrupt whatever Aaron was saying and her eyes flick to Harry on the screen. She can barely see the way the pixels of the video call catch the shift in his posture and the tick of his jaw, but she decides to ignore it.

She mutes her microphone as she listens to Aaron’s monotone voice through the speakers. Occasionally Harry or Kelly will add their input but for the most part it’s just Aaron. He’s throwing out ideas left and right trying to figure out where to start with the case. Grace can see all the files spread out in the table, the same ones that Grace has open on her other screen, and she scrolls. A crime scene photo catches James’ eye and he puts his hand up to halt her. He leans closer, pointing to a small symbol etched into the tree above the body, it's barely visible, blending into the seams on the bark. She turns her mic back on.

“Hey…guys? Did you see the symbol in the picture of our latest victim?” Her eyebrows furrow and she leans in closer to the screen. “Could it be satanic? Was there anything similar at the other scenes?” She asks and Aaron flips through the pictures to look for what she’s seeing.

“It’s not Satanic.” Harry mutters in a tone of voice that makes her eyes narrow, holding the picture closer to his face. He types in quick succession on his laptop, performing a quick google search. “It’s Egyptian.” He screen-shares a symbol that looks almost similar, more intricate than the one haphazardly carved into the tree.

“We need to have this picture blown up, it’s hard to identify from this distance. Good catch, Grace.” Aaron praises, looking down at the picture still.

“Oh it wasn’t me, it was James. We met earlier, he works upstairs in OC, we were eating lunch together and he caught it.” Grace replies, redirecting the praise to James while turning her camera towards him. He puts his hand up in a small gesture and Aaron nods, walking out of view of the camera. The screen goes black, the video call ending abruptly. Maybe the connection was bad? She pulls out her phone to text Harry.

Grace: “keep me posted.”

Harry: “k.”

His short reply makes her roll her eyes, and she almost puts her phone away when another message pops up.

Harry: “wanna start a group chat with lover boy so he can give me all his opinions directly?”

Grace: “i’m not doing this. he’s just a friend. and you’re being annoying.”

Harry: “just a friend my ass. friends that just met don’t bring each other lunch. he’s got a hard on for you.”

Grace: “so what? we definitely aren’t exclusive so it’s none of your business anyway. drop it. move on.”

She drops her phone down on her desk, shaking her head and scoffing.

He doesn’t reply.

———

A few days pass with no word from Harry, the case causing a build up of stress to fall on Grace’s shoulders. The Egyptian symbol was present at every scene in some form or other, and it had them stumped. James had asked her out on a date and she declined, really just wanting to go home and go to bed. She regrets staying behind, she feels out of the loop and she feels guilty she’s not there helping catch their suspect. Long distance while being an FBI agent doesn’t work, especially when her specialty is geographical profiling. It’s hard to create a profile for an area she’s unfamiliar with.

She showers. A long, hot, shower. The muscles in her shoulders relax with the steam blurring her vision. She just stands under the heat, washing away her stress…and she thinks of Harry. His words…his hands on her body…his lips on her neck, her tits…his teeth pulling her clit between them…Her breath catches and her legs feel weak at the thought of him. The way her body reacts to him, knowing he has this sort of control over her, she could never be with anyone else. She quickly finishes her shower, wrapping her hair in a towel and moving to her bed, not bothering with clothes because she has only one thing on her mind. She needs to cum.

Her hand dips down past her navel, running a finger through her folds before bringing them back up to her clit, rubbing gentle circles while tweaking her nipple between her fingers with her other hand, pinching and pulling, trying to replicate the way he does it. She replays every time they’ve been together over in her brain, remembering the way his breath fanned over her neck as he grunted in her ear, whispering words into her ear, words no one else has ever said to her. Words she didn’t even know she liked to hear.

The shrill ring of her phone pulls her from her thoughts, a groan of aggravation escaping her throat, so close to her release and she sighs, looking at the caller ID. Harry.

“Finally deciding to talk to me?” Grace answers out of breath, frustrated she didn’t get to finish. She tries to slow down her heartbeat, her breath left heavy in her lungs.

“I’m sorry, okay? I was being childish. I let my anger get the best of me, and I’m sorry. I know I have no right to be that way towards you. You’re allowed to see other people, you’re right. We aren’t exclusive.” He pauses. “Happy now?” He grumbles. She sighs,

“Are you okay?” His voice drawls through the speaker and she gulps nervously.

“Just peachy.” She answers sarcastically, trying to sound like she wasn’t just trying to get herself off less than five minutes ago. She gnaws on the inside of her lip. “Did you need something, is something going on with the case?” She turns over onto her side, waiting. He hums, choosing to ignore her response before diving into an update about the case as he paces around his hotel room.

Grace drowns out his voice involuntarily with her daydreams. She goes back to what she thought about to make herself get worked up in the first place, and then she imagines it…really imagines it. And it wouldn’t be so bad right? She lets her mind wander to the image of him curled around her in bed every morning, his hands gripping her waist as she stands at the kitchen sink, or her swollen belly in the mirror as she gets dressed for work for the day. A life with him.

“Earth to Grace?” His voice through the speaker pulls her from her thoughts and she blinks once to clear her head.

“I’m sorry, Harry. What did you say?” She’s breathless, feeling the arousal pool at her aching, empty hole. A smirk plays on his lips, one she can’t see, and now he knows exactly what she was doing before he called her. He knows her, knows how she sounds when she’s fucked out…when she’s needy. He knows just how to push her to the edge.

“Don’t worry about it, bunny.” He purrs and she whimpers into the microphone before covering her mouth and her thighs squeeze together almost on their own volition. “S’the matter sweet girl?” He coos and the drop in octave in his voice makes her squirm.

“N-nothing.” She stutters, lying straight through her teeth, feeling the flame igniting in her belly once again and she can’t help that he just does this to her. Her body reacts to him on its own despite the way her brain fights the feeling every single time.

“See, I know when you’re lying. I don’t like when you lie to me, Grace.” His voice is gravelly and he clicks his tongue as she pulls her lip between her teeth. “Let me help you make it better.” He mumbles and she whimpers out an agreement.

“What were you thinking about to make you all riled up like this?” He asks in a sweet voice and she stays quiet. She hears his breathing on the other end of the phone, silent. “Hmm?”

“You. Was thinking about you.” She admits and her cheeks heat with a little bit of embarrassment, but mostly with desire.

“Is that right? Well don’t let me interrupt, go on then.” He can feel himself hardening beneath his sweats at her honesty, but he refrains from touching himself. For now. He doesn’t hear any rustling on her end of the phone and his brow furrows. “What’s wrong? Need me to tell you what to do?” He jokes and she mewls.

“Y-yes. Please.” She whines and the tone of her voice tells him all he needs to know.

“Mm, okay.” He pauses, thinking. “What were you thinking about? Tell me, bunny. I’m curious.”

“Thinking about the last time…in the supply room.” Her voice is breathless and he smiles at the memory.

“Want you to pull your bottoms down for me, sweet girl.” He instructs her and hears rustling on the other end, her eagerness making his heart lurch in his chest and he feels all the blood in his body rush southward. “Have ‘em off?” He asks and she confirms that she does. “Good girl. Want you to touch your thighs, just drag your fingers over your skin, like I would do.” She follows his direction, the light touch of her fingers creating goosebumps in their wake.

“Want you to touch yourself, too.” She mumbles into the phone and he groans on the other end, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Want you to tell me how wet you are first, are you dripping? Want you to put a finger in and tell me how soaked you are at the thought of me fucking you against that wall.” His words come through gritted teeth and he shifts his hips, pushing his sweats down and he leans against the wall, palming himself through his boxers and biting the inside of his lip. She trails a finger through her folds, her arousal pooling on her finger before she pushes into her aching hole, feels herself clench around her own finger as she moans at the intrusion.

“Harry—” His name falls from her lips in a breathless whisper.

“Tell me.” He demands, jaw clenched and hand squeezed into a fist and he can hear the way her finger is pumping in and out, the sound of her arousal evident through her end of the phone and he could almost cum right then, without even touching himself.

“S-so wet. Wasn’t entirely from the sex, though.” She admits and he raises his eyebrow in an expression still unseen to her. “From what you said.” He combs through the memory, her pushed against the wall with his hand around her wrists, slamming into her again and again. He pries his mind and the memory of what he said to her comes flooding back. Gonna fill your pretty little pussy up, get you all full of my cum…bet you’d like if I got you pregnant too, huh? Wanna see that cute little belly swollen, let everyone know who you belong to.

“Little minx…likes being full of me, doesn’t she? Likes feeling me dripping out of her.” He can’t help himself now, the memory playing over and over in his head like his own personal porno. He pushes the rest of the barrier away and spits into his hand before wrapping it around the base of his hardened cock and pumping himself with a soft grunt falling from his lips.

“Yes, Harry.” She whines, feeling herself come closer to her release as she flicks her thumb over her clit and pulses her fingers in and out. “Want you to…need you to, Har. Just wanna feel you.”

“I know, sweet girl. Wanna have my babies in your cute little belly? Know you’re carrying around part of me and that I’ve claimed you?” He grits and she nods even though he can’t see her, his hand working himself at his own pace, his tip leaking and dripping onto his own hand as he grunts and groans at the frictions he’s creating. “Gonna fill you up, let your thighs be a sticky mess of me? Cum for me, bunny. Wanna hear you.” He encourages her and she squeezes her eyes shut and her toes curl, pleasure taking over every one of her senses. One flick of her thumb against her sensitive bundle of nerves again and she’s gone, moaning and crying out his name between them. He follows not long after her, his own release painting his hand and he leans against the wall to catch his breath, coming down from his high. Grace sighs into the phone, feeling a little hazy, not in the proper state of mind to continue a normal conversation with him.

“I love you.” She whispers, her eyes flutter closed, the pulses of pleasure still buzzing through her brain, clouding her better judgment. She doesn’t even realize the words have slipped past the barrier of her lips. He’s silent for a moment, mouth dropping open to speak but closing again.

“W-What?” He stutters, heartbeat quickening and nervous sweat forming on his brow. Her eyes fly open and her heart drops to the floor. Did she really just say that…out loud? “Grace…” He trails off, his vision blurring, his head feeling dizzy and he doesn’t know what to say.

The line goes dead, and he’s alone.

taglist: @indierockgirrl @hermionelove @storyschanging

if your tag is red it didn’t work :(

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry #styles #harry styles x fmc #harry fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry smut #harry edward styles #harry styles x oc #harry styles au #agent!harry #agent!fmc #little bunny #fic #jealous!harry

251 notes · View notes