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rise-my-angel · 1 month

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Heart of the Great Wolf

45 - Dark Blood of Blinding Light

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

Length: 21.4k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, past character deaths, mild disturbing imagery, references to past rape, insecurity, possessive behavior and language, breeding kink, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v

Notes: I know, I know, okay? I know about the length already, I was the moron who wrote it. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

You were too much alike, both of you were being pragmatic and yet it around in circles you both continued to do. He had a point but so did you, and thus as you both stood there the debate once more spin around and around coming to the same conclusions once, twice, too many times. It was almost far too much how it used to be, instead this time you both were walking the cold grounds within the Nightfort instead of along the sunny and warm docks at the edge of Kings Landing. And this time it wasn't numbers which were the discussion of debate, it was what such numbers meant in actuality.

Gold and trade the usual debates between you two back when the highest place you had any influence on was the small council. A Kingdom rapidly finding itself in dire straights as the treasury was empty and the Lannisters were as well. The only gold remaining to them was for their own spends and livelihoods but no longer could they pay for anything of other uses. The Iron Bank was new in dealings with Robert's reign and it meant that you were too aware that payments were going to be needed far more prompt then before. Your allocated budget grew smaller every quarter year and thus you and Stannis spent many days debating on what trade deals to prioritize.

Those however, were low stakes in comparison to now. You understood his position, truly you did. He was the one true King and no one had ever respected him for it. By every law in Westeros, the Iron Throne was his. You had almost died beside Eddard Stark to defend that stance, but once more like the days on the docks, those were more simple times. More simple stakes. These were not, and it would be all too easy to be blinded by presuming those stakes were just as important. But they weren't.

Jon had only been able to send a raven to Aegon, because it was now known that he had taken Storm's End, and the battle to claim the rest of the Stormlands had begun. But it also meant, asking your father to give up the castle where he grew up, and the lands of his family to the one House which meant the most insulting to claim what was yours.

The urge to keep what men he had here, stay in his place and leave to his vastly more superior numbers, and chase the Dragon from the Stag's home was too tempting, and you knew it.

“It's asking me to hand over the lands this House has ruled for centuries, to give up the home I grew up in, the home my father grew up in and his father before him.” Once more you knew that argument was fair, and in many other occasions you'd have agreed.

On the other hand, your eyes narrowed ever the slightest not from the sting of the cold winds. “You are aware father, that you cannot appeal to emotions in me which don't exist.” You both knew what that was referring to, but the man as stubborn as the daughter he passed such a trait down to, waited for you to elaborate. “Asking me to care about the things my grandfather did is a far stretch of what I am willing to do. Which for him, is none.”

Collected as ever it did not yet show in your father's face that your point had effected him as such in a harmful manner. Neither his tone was well. “Some days it's difficult to tell if your insolence would only make him like you more.” If any could see you trying to not roll your eyes, it was Stannis. Who even from just a side view, saw the slight twitch in your face trying to hold it back. “You are not alone in that manner, my father tried very hard to have me see the world his way. Moreso then he ever did with Robert or Renly. The last I ever heard from him was a raven telling me they didn't find what they were looking for in their journey but they found something hopefully which would teach me how to laugh.”

Your eyebrow raised only for your entire expression to grimace, a tilt to the side asking, “Please do not tell me it was-” Glancing to him, your father only gave you a single knowing look that had you shake your head in further exasperation. “Are you certain your father didn't hate you, because that fool never made a single soul laugh in the twenty two years I knew him.”

“Save for Shireen.”

Quick in amusement as you were dismissal, “Shireen was a child, she didn't know what was funny.” In a moment passing others by, you had waited until it was once more only the two of you in any earshot. “I'm not sure you've ever told me what they were doing. My grandfather and grandmother, you told me they had sailed to Essos but never why.”

Blunt as he was honest, your father was. “You already had a strong contempt for the Targaryeans at a young age, I did not think it productive to give you more reasons to hate them as strongly as Robert did.” Playing the same game, you turned to him in a questioning gaze but asked none. Tone quiet, there was a shred of sympathy towards you as he spoke. “They were travelling to Volantis under the order of King Aerys to find a suitable Valyrian bride for Prince Rhaegar.”

He was right, telling you that would've made you lean much more towards Roberts side, even now, it still did. More then ever it did. Nothing was spoken as you both looked at one anther, waiting for the building flooding of anger to simmer back down before getting out of hand. A long exhale left your lips before your arms crossed over your front, turning to the grounds below where you had been walking.

It was far away on you as it was spoken, but not with anger or vitriol, just an honesty. “The last thing I've wanted to do was to downplay what happened that day, they were your parents and I heard enough from Robert to know it must have been horrifying to watch. But maybe that was the price he paid.”

Stannis matched your stance, neither of you giving away in posture or even faces as you spoke in low tones. You both appeared as neutral as the other, when in truth the weight here was growing to be insurmountable. “Robert and I discussed it. Not often, but we discussed what we would have done differently had our father been alive once war was declared. We both knew our father would have remained loyal to the Targaryeans, and we both agreed that we still wouldn't have done anything different. He made his choice long ago, we only wished that he had not taken our mother's life with him when he passed.”

For everything said about Steffon Baratheon, there was not even a match of tone towards the grandmother you never knew. Cassana Estermont. Even when the remainder of her House had done nothing but insult your father. Declared for Renly, then went running to Stannis when he had passed, then to Joffery at the defeat at Blackwater Bay, and now have come crawling back to Stannis once more as the Lannisters lost nearly all true hold on the realm. Yet through all of it, your grandmother was never spoken in any ill.

Glancing to him you asked with something genuine. “Those lands have been ours for centuries, and perhaps once long ago they would be worth dying to defend, but it won't matter. None of it matters, and we're running out of time too quickly to keep pretending as if it does. Everything you have seen here, do you truly think you're needed more there then you are here?”

Looking up to your father, something heavy flowed in the air. Something unspoken that was not tense, nor agitated. Something rather, which pleaded what little vulnerability you two ever shared. He was not judging either in his response after a good while of thought. “Robert held the peace for nearly twenty four years, not because he was a good ruler, but because he relied on better men to do the ruling for him behind the curtain. Everytime he ignored his council, we had to clean up the mess it left behind before it got out of hand. He never listened, not when it mattered. Not to Jon Arryn, not to me, not even to Ned Stark. And after he died his Kingdom has done nothing but bleed for it.”

There was a point somewhere in there, but you were quiet to let it breathe before crowding it with any clarifying questions.

“But now by every law there is, now it is my Kingdom. And I will not forget how much these people have made my Kingdom bleed, and I will not forgive it either. If I pull every of my men out of the Stormlands and bring them North, my enemies will think I am weak.”

It weighed heavy in your heart, you two did not often speak in any praise, not to each other about each other. But it came out as honest as any could be, “If you were weak, father, I wouldn't stand here asking you to not leave. Westeros will survive without you fighting in it, but it will not survive if we do not fight for it. Jon cannot do this alone. The North doesn't have the numbers, and even if we did it would take months, years to train everyone to even resemble an army large enough. If you were weak, then we wouldn't need you. But we do.”

Finding his gaze, neither of you said anything. Much in your eyes held back as did his, not to let it creep too close to the surface. When he did, you admittedly could have let out a chuckle were your heart not still fast and too heavy. “You're starting to sound like Jon.”

Biting your tongue, you turned back to the cold sight of the forts activities bustling about. Arms moving to rest along the wooden railing, Stannis too matched you. Only he had the retort on his tongue, knowing that furrow in your brows far too well. “It wasn't an insult.”

Eyes trained forward, it came off as dry as your stare was tense. “I'd hope so. He's your son in law now, I can't imagine insulting him is a good starting off point.” Curious it was, that your father had asked the very question you asked her what felt like a fortnight passed, asking how your mother was fairing with such a detail. You resisted the urge to shrug. “They're..” Pausing to find the more diplomatic of approaches, “Taking it at their own pace shall we say.”

It surprised you, but your father almost chuckled. Almost. “Selyse was never fond of the boy even before we had arrived at Castle Black.” Your brows narrowed turning to look at him, before the realization formed lightly on your face as it did his. A fondness amplified by the feeling of her necklace under everything. “Used to say you were too distracted, and shouldn't spend that much time around boys when you weren't even a woman yet.”

“It wasn't like that.”

Quick as you were, so was Stannis. “I know. Despite everything I raised you better then that.” The sights of the Nightfort passed by still, neither party noticing that should any glance up, an amusingly identical image was sat between the two of you as you both stood there, leaned against the railing. “If Aegon cooperates, I'll order my troops to sail on Eastwatch by the Sea as soon as possible. Organize with Jon and this Lord Commander-”

“Edd.”

You could see your father turn slightly to give you a glance, but continued without noting your interruption. “Edd. Decide what forts need to be prioritized and how many. I'll remain in the long term for now. I presume you will return to Winterfell shortly, I will keep my command here. The North needs an army to man the wall, so we'll man it.”

Nodding, you said nothing for a moment. This was neither the time nor place, but you still struggled to even find the words for what could be said. You discussed strategy, plans, and numbers with your father, no details of your life. He never knew your last until it was too late, but telling him of this one felt foreign and strange. Of course he would care, but part of you was still a girl with a father you didn't like to step out of line towards.

You weren't quite yet ready to have that conversation. And yet, what came out of your mouth was not at all the same as the thoughts at the front of your mind. Instead without permission, your mouth reached deep within and pulled up something you hadn't even considered saying previously. “I didn't go to Robb to spite you. At the beginning of the war, I didn't side against you with ill intent.”

Stannis barley turned to look at you. Something distant in his tone with a question long forgotten until now. “I never asked how it was you came to leave. You were said to have been in King's Landing at the same time Ned Stark was arrested, how did you leave before they could get to you?”

“I was there that day too. In the throne room, Lord Stark and I both went to confront Cersei, we had Roberts will, we thought we had the gold cloaks. But we didn't. They arrested us both that day. Separated us and tossed us both into the black cells.” Shaking your head, gloved hands wrung slightly together as your face twisted in long passed conflict. “I didn't go into this war wanting to stand on the opposite side as you. But I had a choice, and I made it, and I will never apologize for choosing Robb over you. But it was never meant to betray you.”

“Who aided in your escape?”

Right to the point, you considered not wanting to know if he had even considered your words thus far beyond that. Honesty however, was all he wanted on some. “Ser Barristan Selmy. We went though the tunnels under the city and I got on a small fishing ship headed to White Harbour.”

Neither of you spoke for the moment, until once more he shifted the tone. “The man did always have a soft spot for you.” Only a nod, something in your head tried to ask a question but there was too much fog from the days since. Too much had occurred in such a short period of time to allow such a wondering thought to bloom.

For once however, the quiet between father and daughter which followed, wasn't awkward nor tense as the day continued to pass by around you.

“So what are we looking for exactly?”

Somehow it seemed there were still rooms which had not yet been explored nor even walked in. Only now had you found what appeared to look much like what the Lord Commanders quarters in Castle Black looked like. Dust sat around and it felt as barren as any, like it had been gutted long ago. Eyes squinting as you looked up to the shelves near the ceiling you muttered, “Anything that appears to have writing on it, especially anything not written in Common.”

Theon and Olly both looked at one another, the question once more coming from the younger ones mouth. “Has she always been vague about things?”

You answered at the exact same time as Theon in a dry word. “Yes.”

Fifteen years knowing one another, Theon knew your most annoying of quirks likely better then anyone else. Some still needed time to get used to it, but if the two of them were going to be in your proximity in the first place, then you were going to make them useful to your purpose in here.

It felt a shame this fort had been abandoned so long. It was large and vast and too much to upkeep for the dwindling numbers of the Nights Watch, but it was well constructed and rather impressive. You could almost stand in the training yard and imagine the vast amount of black furs and leathers all bustling within these walls. You meant no offence to Castle Black but it was minuscule in comparison to the luxuries which could be afforded here.

Now it was no longer as such, a dreary place which needed as much work as it likely ever had since it's first build. No fancy noble woman would come here and find it suitable to live in or even be in. The first they ever build though, you wondered how long the men had attempted to hold onto this place before finally being ordered to leave.

Jon had said the other abandoned forts tunnels had been flooded, but the did not this one, and you wondered just how many men understood the strangeness below. The gate, the face, the symbols all there but did they know somewhere in there was a mystery tied to bodies and symbols of blood in the snow? Did they have any idea when they left this place what was to come in hundreds of years?

The Wall was said to be built to protect the realm, but why now did all of those secrets lay in the dark little hope to ever find answers to their depths?

Books scattered about, looking in one and nothing but numbers and inventory. Another schedules and routines, discipline and what not. All standard and left behind with no care anymore for what would not remain. But still, no hint of other forts containing answers to a thing seemed likely when the black gate below was something not like any other.

Something, someone, somewhere and sometime in this very place there had to be something written in one form or another as to what was going on. What happened here and why was the remainder of the Nights Watch left in such disarray and unprepared?

Near a desk, you could see the remains of a large book, more of a tomb then anything. As you picked it up however, it became very obvious that it would likely not be hiding any secret, a book this absurdly heavy. A wince on your face, you walked it to the nearest surface and let it drop with a thud. Only as it did, more then just the wood of the natural desk shifted.

Brows narrowing, you looked to see nothing. So you repeated the process, and something surely seemed to be moving separate of the rest of the wood. Theon and Olly both glanced over, the former with a question in the air. “What is it?”

Frowning, you knelt down to look more at the wood, but saw nothing. “I thought I saw something, must be imagining things.”

Walking to your side as Olly stood on the opposite of the desk, Theon looked at the book. Opening it, there was more of nothing useful, and yet you bit your tongue trying to look at what didn't move. But startling you back, Theon with far more strength did the same and that time, you were at the right angle to see just the slightest of jolts underneath. Right where the legs of a man would sit.

Mouth parting slightly, Theon explained. “Some wood can get stuck against any metal keeping it together in the cold. Just needs a good shift to do so.”

Both coming to your side, Olly pulled the chair from the way and all knelt on each side of you, looking to where your gloved hand traced along what might be an opening. Only for a second did you reach for a blade, only to find your hand empty and turning with a frown to see nothing. Right.

A certain someone didn't seem to want you casually carrying weapons so frivolously anymore.

Almost rolling your eyes with a sigh, Theon caught enough of the context with a smirk. “Allow me.” Pulling a dagger out of his own, you and Olly both leaned back to let him pry at it. A wince on his own face until a thud of his arm slamming against the side of the desk and did a piece of wood fall.

Wood, and what appeared to be scraps of paper all wrapped together with a string to keep them from separating. Slowly picking up up, you turned some of it in place but wrapped up as such not a lot could be determined. “If you were to abandon this castle for good, why go to such lengths to hide papers instead of taking it with you?”

Theon presented one answer, “Maybe to hide it and come back to it when no one was around.”

But it was Olly with the one you suspected might ring more true. “Or they didn't know this was there in the first place. Hide it where no one would ever find it.”

Until now you thought. Standing up, you carefully undid the strings and let them fall in place. One by one you gently looked through the ink, and found something far more interesting then inventory and routines. You found something written in a language long not used, something which looked much like carvings on a rune stone.

The Nightfort was the oldest along the Wall, and such papers truly reminded you as such. That it was not just ancestors and Northerners manning this place. Once thousands of years ago, the First Men occupied this place all on their own.

By the time the afternoon fell over the sky, you were still there. Only enough light filtering in from the windows alone, but sat at the desk still flipping through it all. A small journal of your own to the side where your left hand was preoccupied writing, and your right sifting through each page.

Not anywhere near what you likely could know if the vast extend of work Sam had conducted, but you felt strange looking at these. Something hidden away for so long not even the hundreds of Lord Commanders after these were made, had found them. They would be at least four thousand years old, as the traditional phonetics of written word as it was used now, was only brought over by the Andals.

It likely, sat somewhere closer to six thousand, the fade some of the ink had become and the darkening on the paper naturally from accumulated age. What you could recognize seemed strange this far, speakings of curtains of light, heart and winter, and something you could only translate as a woman of white. Over and over such symbols came back and back and back again but never more did you grasp the meanings of it all.

Whatever this man had seen, something unusual had happened to him, he had seen something almost as if it drove him mad. The writings not even neat, uniform or clear. It was as if they were scrambled down in a haste, manic ramblings which were all they had time for or the sanity to put forth. Every symbol was cracked and faded and had you running your gloved hand over again and again as if to scrub away the grime from years.

But it wasn't that itself which caught your attention, it wasn't strange writings alone which had you sitting here on your own. It was the final page. Nothing as if a name, nothing which spoke of a person, but a symbol which was one not out of the ordinary to your knowledge. At the bottom, sat the symbol you knew all too well now. Faded and nearly wiped gone, but it was there. No name of who left such a story, but that of a direwolf. A sigil no mistakening from that of House Stark.

Old Nan had told many stories of the Nights Watch, the Wall and the Nightfort but none ever contained mystique of such far north whispers. Monsters and strange creatures and corpses and death, but nothing close to matching what this spoke of. Whatever this was, it was old. So old it seemed not have to been passed down.

You needed more information somewhere else.

Why he kept glancing at you in a knowing manner you weren't sure, but you at that point in your life had found expert talent in pretending as if you did not notice a bit of it. Focusing instead on the words in front of you and not either the eyes or the weight of papers you had not brought out from where you hid it on your person. As if a bird pecking at the inside of your mind, something had told you to keep it to yourself. To not throw it down to others so quickly, and it just might have been that Stark sigil doing so. But you spoke none of it, only walking into the room and stating you wanted to simply look over things yourself, to make yourself useful.

Sam had accepted that explanation, but you felt that rising paranoia that it was what you had hidden from his knowledge he was looking at you for. Regardless, you ignored it and spoke as collected as you could. “And this is every record available?”

Almost as if shaking his head out of it's thoughts, Sam jolted to look over at you with more calm. “Names, dates, greatest accomplishments, everything they recorded as they went. Though, not so much where you're still at.” A narrowing of eyes as you asked the question in quiet. “Well, once the Andals came in, they had to transcribe the records all before them into our writing and so the further back the records go, the less information they have.”

The book was one Sam said should exist somewhere in every fort along the Wall. The Maesters records of every Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, from the start until the last day of each forts use. This one sat still in the somewhat empty library of the Nightfort and thus had no information passed a few short centuries ago. But you didn't look to there, not yet.

Right now, you had begun from the start. Each entry as Sam said was barren at first. But there were names and dates of voting in until their death. You could look one to the next and the math added up entirely correct. Only, no, you couldn't. From the first through to the twelfth Lord Commander it was Stark after Stark recorded. It made sense in your mind, one Stark ruled the North as King, the other commanded the Wall following the end of the Long Night.

But there was no entry for the thirteenth, and after as such it was never a Stark so consistently until it devolved into rarity and then it ended far before your lifetime. The thirteenth, you thought. Brows narrowed as your nails tapped along the edge of the page. Something was in your mind, but you weren't anywhere near a Northerner to have it so readily in your memory.

No, your lifetime was filled with tedious knowledge of every dragon named Targaryean there ever had been in their dynasty. You only knew the North in stories, you had not the lifetime of learning in such an age. But Sam was not a Northerner either, and you were far too aware, that was only an excuse as to why you did not ask.

There was only one other entry which intrigued your mind, but it was not here. They were voted in far later then the last of the Nightfort's days. Two Lord Commanders of the Nights Watch, and something once more like a bird pecked at your mind with increasing frustration. You were too tired, you had been awake too long and far too much of the last night when sleep should have been had, was spent on something else entirely.

Maybe you didn't have the capacity to understand any of this right now. And the longer the day went on the less you found yourself wanting any to intrude on it with a single word. You required a very specific air of quiet and it would not be found as the day was busy. And if by the weary expression on Jons face, he felt all too the same.

Walking in with a frown and unfocused eyes, you could sense the irritation all the same as it sat in your blood, but judging by the unphased reaction of Sam, you'd suspect he was used to it as you were. A lightness in his tone as he jested with ease, “You know sometimes I forget I should be referring you to by your title, but then you walk in like that and you make it difficult to remember there's a King under that look.”

Jon's eyes narrowed in a half baked glare towards Sam, which was taken as good as Jon sending him but a smirk. Passing him by to circle more around to where you were, he mumbled under his breath enough for him to still hear. “You're the last person I'd ask to call me that, Sam.”

To your surprise, as your eyes had been casted downward, you hadn't noticed until warmth enveloped your side. Jon resting a hand gentle along the back of your head as the other braced against the desk, leaning down he spared no hesitation pressing a tender kiss to the hair at the top of your head. Out of everything, it was such a simple act in front of another that had you feel a flush building in your chest, not daring to look at Sam, no doubt having seen the display of affection.

Murmuring a he pulled a seat close to where you were at the edge of one side of the desk, Jon sat at the other. Eyes narrowing at the book in front of you, “What is that?”

“Oh, that's called a book, your grace.”

Jon's face fell flat instantly, peeling his eyes up to glare at Sam who was no doubt rather amused with how much a grouchy Jon would let him get away with saying. Knowing the man was too tired to say a word back with the same quickness. You were also rather certain he knew you were smothering your own smirk, but passing by it as you cleared the strain in your throat. “It's every Lord Commander since the Wall was constructed. I had wondered if any name ends up standing out, or something they've done could match anything Sam's already uncovered.”

Nodding, Jon's eyes had not seen as you did, and none would yet. “Have you found anything?”

Yes. “No.”

The hand at the back of your head had slid to the top edge of your chair, not noticeable enough for you, but on every non consistent occasion, Jon would reach what of his fingers he could to toy with the loose strands of hair free down your back. Eyes hardly leaving you to the page then back. Whatever he normally held back in respect in front of others, Sam was not one Jon felt the need to hide in front of.

The papers hiding under your clothes weighed a crushing amount.

Voices moved between the two men, the rasp from one side so gentle in your ear you for once had not felt the burn in your scar. But something only a little girl would describe as a fluttering in your stomach in it's place. For so long you couldn't ever think of it in terms of something which couldn't haunt, but it wasn't life alone now. It was life gifted by Jon himself.

You came here to focus and search for answers, but your heart skipped light in your heart being so close to him. All the talk of children, and it was only real now. It was only real not even in the past twenty four hours. And instead of having time to consider it together, you both were once more jumping within the depths of duty.

A sigh holding back inside you, you were a mess. Tugged in many directions in the storms of winter coming but the one which came back again and again you could feel Jon's eyes flickering down to your stomach. You were avoiding the grey and he knew it, as if begging you to ignore your focus and look back up at him.

Did he want to make you feel out of your mind? You thought to yourself, Jon was just sadistic enough enjoy dangling your silence in front of those closest to him. “Either we used symbols of their language in our writing afterwards, or they are using ours thinking we could read it.”

You could hear Sam somewhat near you still, the sounds of the endless amount of paper trailing along his workspace as he spoke. “What if it's both?” Jon's brows narrowed in question just as you much firmer felt his hands trail along strands of your hair along your back, Sam continuing. “I tried to combine the symbols you both had seen, and found it seemed to form a new phrase entirely. Something along the lines of winters heart.”

Head turned just to the slightest, your tone breathless as you tried to make it nonchalant. “What does that mean?”

Sam earnest as he responded without hesitating. “I don't know. Nothing I've seen even in the old manuscripts mention anything like that.” Jaw clenching, you turned back to re reading the same words over and over. The papers would crush you had you hid them against your lungs. Begging to be looked at but you weren't sure why you continued to withhold it.

It was a bizarre sensation, something you cannot control telling you against the logic in your mind and you knew too well it wasn't something you have never felt before. But never with something so close to the storms of the North coming. It was never so close to something you understood as such.

Per chance you spared a glance to Jon, already leaned down somewhat to catch your eyes in tandem as you sought his out. A brightness of asking in them, but you bit your tongue. Doubt only you could look to him back with, and the smallest of single head shakes you were graced to know he understood as later. If it was his family on these papers, he should know about them first.

Looking away, the thought sat deep on his face trying to put more together. Low and strained as Jon spoke through the clues already in front of him. “They know our vows, they think we can understand their symbols..” Trailing off the right question was left to him. “I only see two options. Either they're trying to communicate with us, or it's meant to be a threat.” Sam asking a threat to what, and it seemed Jon had thought that through as well. “That they know us more then we know them.”

Such a fact was true, but it did not sit comfortably anywhere between the three of you.

“Edd said his rangers report it would take months to reach where the green in the sky is. As far as the Frost Fangs.” Jon stood abruptly, his hand pressing more firm along your back and down to your hip as if when moving by towards Sam, he was beckoning you to follow. For now it seemed, you had seen enough from the book in front of you. There was little else a missing entry could say without anything further to go of off.

Smoothing the skirt of your dress down as you stood, Jon and Sam had begun looking over a map of sorts. Coming closer to Jons side, one arm without looking away, spared no expense in wrapping around your waist to pull you into your side. Sliding the same hand to press along the small of your back. Eyes of yours trained downward in a fluster to smother the urge see the continuous gaze of Sam watching Jons physical ease with you.

Hand trailing along a path from Castle Black out to lands you knew none of. North of the Wall was large and vast, and no doubt however you thought the North you live in now was, likely was minuscule in comparison to the cold endless snowy lands the further you went. Up past the eeiry named Haunted Forest, Jon landed on what looked like a set of mountains before a very empty space along the rest of the map above it.

Rasping deep as Jon looked over it to give him the answers here and now. “If the light's we saw aren't passing by the Frost Fangs, we shouldn't be able to see them at all.” You asking why, Jons face twisted once more in thought. “It would take months to reach there. It's the furthest North the Nights Watch has ever made it, but that's too far to see anything in the horizon from there.”

“Unless they want us to see it.” Both your and Jons head rose to find the more hopeful knowing in Sam. “Think about it, they leave things for us to read, they want us to see these green waves in the sky, but not bring it any closer.”

Your eyes found the map once more, looking to where Jons hand sat at the Frost Fangs you leaned down closer to the table. “What's beyond it?” Both men turned to look at you in question. “The Frost Fangs, it's the furthest the Nights Watch has ever made it, but what's beyond that?”

It was small print in the middle of a space of nothing at the top of the map. Stretching to sights unseen as if unable to confirm it. The location nothing which spoke of actual civilization, unlike the rest of the northern map which detailed where many people had once lived all over. Sam filled you in on such details, all three of you now looking to the same place. “The Maesters at the citadel have about as much knowledge as we do, but according to them, it's where giants and the children of the forest lived during the dawn age. A land frozen forever, inhospitable to man.”

Jon turning to meet your gaze with a more gentle of tones, “Some of the brothers used to say it's where the Others came from thousands of years ago.”

Shaking your head a tad, your eyes trailed off to nothing in particular. “We already know they're coming, why tell us now? Why warn us they're coming now when they've spent years hunting us all down?”

But Jon had a possible answer to that, one that he came to conclusion of at Hardhome as he and one of them found the others eyes across the waters. Meeting one another before letting the free folk all rise dead and blue eyed beside for the remaining living to see. It wasn't a threat to warn, it was a message to scare. “First kill our people, and only then make sure we know they're coming.” Face twisting in thought, you could see the strain as always existed in him now as he looked with sudden sharp eyes to Sam. “You've killed one of them, and now they know I have too. They might be trying to scare us into thinking we can't fight back the way they can. They want people like Sam and me to believe we aren't enough. We know they're still out there and now we have to watch it every night until they decide to come for us.”

The room was warm as it could be with the fires around, and yet a chill shivered between all three of you. It was too dangerous, this path finding itself uncovering. If they wanted you all to believe you were without hope, then the lack of it couldn't leave this room. The Long Night ended once, it would end again but perhaps preventing it in the first place was the losing battle. Perhaps it was finding the answer of how to end it before a generation was born and died all in that darkness.

An order coming firmly from Jon in the creeping silence that shocked both Sam and yourself back into your heads without crushing dread taking over again. “Every translation you have, I need a copy of it. If the only way we can understand them is in a dead language,”

Only you would dare with such a finish for his words, the only one in the room who understood. “No one better to learn how to understand it then a dead King.” Greys met Green, and you knew too well that it was not one dead man who should understand it. But three.

It seemed fitting, the first of you to die and return now one of the first to learn a language of symbols and people long dead. Jon when conveying his plans before coming here had been firm. If Thoros and Beric wished to fight this fight, they wouldn't do so anywhere near Jons true home. Trusting them to commit to such a battle, but not enough to let them have eyes on you more then they already were.

Telling the group of you who had all accompanied Jon here, that should Stannis agree, the two outlaws would remain at the Nightfort under his watch and command. “The Night's Watch is beyond reach of the law. Edd knows what we're up against as well as I do, and he and I are working together, but sending men there can't be a punishment anymore.”

You could recall standing beside him, the flare of pride in you watching Jon speak with such conviction and confidence without a shred of ego to back his voice up. Smalljon Umber had spoken up in a respectful manner, “I'm not sure I follow, your grace.”

Jon, as he was better at then he'd give credit for, was convincing to the point you'd almost mistaken it for another act of strange magic natural in his blood. “I had brothers in the Nights Watch sent there instead of being physically punished for their crimes. But the Wall needs more then men forced to find purpose there because that's the only life they have left. Thoros and Lord Beric will serve at the Nightfort, no chains, no sentencing. We have to fight this fight beacuse we want to. Not because we have no other choice. I'm bringing them with us when we leave, and hate them or not, they won't be my prisoners anymore. I'm trusting them with the same chances I trusted my brothers with at Castle Black. You are free to voice your complains my lords, but I can't have us arguing about it. Now now. We have to all trust each other regardless of what we may have once done.”

The thought that he once thought he wasn't worth anything and yet in that moment all you could do, was hope Robb and Ned could hear you. Hear you tell them that they should be proud of who they helped Jon become.

Robb would always be Jons brother, the closest companion he had from before he could even form memories, Robb was there right beside him. Nothing could take that away from then, nothing and no one could remove that Jon and Robb both were brothers who missed each other in those wars with everything they had. Robb tried not to talk about Jon in front of you as much as you did him, his presence a missing void especially once Theon had turned traitor.

Once it was only Robb and yourself left, Jon was such a missing space in your hearts beyond even the love you felt for him. He was in different ways, best friends to both of you. All Robb wanted to do once the war was over, was take you home and find a way to bring his brother home where he belonged.

You both knew something was coming one day, the moment the raven arrived in Riverrun with news of Sansa being wed to Tyrion Lannister, you both could sense Lord Tywin was plotting something to replace you both with. Not the idea of how inhumane it would be or how sudden, but you both had the growing sense that there was a chance you both wouldn't make it.

Robb had said it himself. “Tywin finally knows your pregnant.”

You had no doubt that even had Robb known the truth of Jons birth, that would not have changed his mind in naming Jon as his true heir. Unspoken, but so enraged by his mothers insulation that Jon would have any intentions of harming what remained of Robbs family, it had Grey Wind step forward and growl deeply at her. It gave away how far she overstepped, and Robb did not hide that he had let his direwolf express such rage for him.

Everyday you always wished Robb could see his trust in Jon was right. That he could rest with his family in the crypts beneath Winterfell and watch over his brother not rule like him, but be a great leader all of his own.

You knew too well, Ned Stark was proud of Jon. Never more had you been confident he'd be proud of him. He knew the truth Jons entire life, and never raised him as anything but his own true son he loved with all his heart. Father by blood or not, there was no influence on the man Jon stood as now which was greater then Neds.

Without failure, every time the night settled into drawing you into sleep did you feel the nerves inside you flare up. Everytime you wondered not what you might see, but if he would be there. What he would say, what he would do. He wanted you to fall for his tricks, but did not hide his willingness to act as the attacker if you wouldn't give in.

The scariest thought of it all however, was that this was someone in the world you lived in. Somewhere out there, this stranger was real, and he knew far more about you then you knew about him.

If there was only one factor to redeem it thus far, is that for reasons you still did not know, both dreams he has come to you, was where you were protected by that of a great wolf. A white direwolf larger on four legs then he'd ever been seen, and feirce as any could possibly dream of when in need of aid. But, there was a difference between that one, and the very large ball of white fur laying about by the fire in the room and the one only now just taking a seat at the edge of the bed with a rough, low groan and a wince in his face.

The image of Ghost was what stood with you in those dreams, but it was the white wolf currently rubbing harshly at the back of his neck to no avail of easing his tension. You already perched on the bed, knees somewhat bent as they lay outward, you had been to write something. Paper flat out on the cover of a book, it was taking you far longer then what you suspect Jon would think.

That was always a complaint directed towards your father and yourself. Your ravens were always very deliberately worded, but it meant it took longer to write out then what many scribbled out in haste. A pause between half sentences trying to consider the wording once more. Had you been the one writing to Aegon, Jon had jested you'd needed to have started two hours before he did just to get it done at the same time.

You hadn't looked up from your writing to that, but likely he had caught the smirk trying to smother itself forming on your lips. Now though, he sat down as it stretched far too late into the night and not much sleep had been found for a while.

The night before you and he had stayed up on the Wall with one another until the watch duty moved onto the morning switch. Little was said, little needed to be then. You had to accept it, Jon had to actually deal with the ramifications of what was once his biggest fear being with you. Neither of you rushed each other. It was different this time.

You had not the burden of failure weighing you down, and Robb had spent his entire life knowing one day he would so easily start a family. Once it was out there, it was only joy. Even out at war, even when everyone was finding ways to stab him in the back, when you both were losing everything, the happiness of sharing that news was the easiest part.

But you no longer were that person, and Jon spent most of his life as far from Robb's dream of a family as what he thought possible. It wasn't upsetting, it wasn't angering, but it wasn't easy. You finally knew though only time could ease that for you both. Though, one thing was the same it seemed, no matter how much more frustrating it felt this time.

As if knowing, begun a path in your mind that could be set off at any moment. It had been this way once Robb and you knew, but now with Jon that might be a bit more dangerous. Jon would never admit it, but in a shocking turn of events, somehow he was the brother with the insatiable appetite. You feeling needy for Robb was easy, you both knew when was not the right time for it. Jon though, would push anything aside should the need become too much.

You were daring not think about what he might say, should he realize the more this carried on, the more of such a need you were going to feel swirling on the inside.

Very carefully as to not quite let him know, you gently moved the paper and ink off to the side completely before slowly making your way down the rest of the beds length. Moving up onto your knees, you let your front drape lightly against Jons back as your hands took place of his. Digging down more into the base of his neck and spine and putting just the right pressure into the muscles you felt him tense before relaxing. Moving along further down until you reached the far worse strain he carried in his shoulders.

Something akin to a grunt left Jon as his head dropped, hands braced against the sheets below him only to relax moreso as you pressed a kiss to just below his ear. Murmuring lowly, “You should've asked me to do this far sooner. It's not good for you, walking around this tense.”

You think maybe Jon nodded, and you could only smile at how easily he crumbled under such a touch in all the same ways you knew finding the right place for your nails to scratch at Ghost would make the direwolf as weak. Truly one in the same your two wolves were. His words slurred out a bit more as he leaned a bit back int your touch, clearly lost in the feeling as he sounded as if his accent had thickened in no time. “I didn't ask you the first time.”

A chuckle left lightly in his ear from you, yourself missing the smile it drew from Jon at the sound so close to him. “No, but I like making you feel good.” Were Jon not still hidden somewhat by you having only a view of his back, you would've noticed his jaw clenching. Too often you would phrase things that pricked at a wild part of his mind, and he would sit there telling himself not to ruin the peace of the moment by turning around and forcing your back against the bed laying under him. You were just being sweet and Jon wanted to ravage you for it.

Now more then ever he wanted to ravage you for it.

By the time your hands eased up, you let them dance slightly back to his neck and up before working on what as to be Jons next weakness. Letting loose his curls, you begun running your fingers through them and scratching against his scalp to have it sit comfortably and neatly. “You need to stop doing that.”

A light questioning on your lips asking, “Doing what?” Whatever mumble Jon gave you was not an answer you could decipher. Leaning more over his shoulder, you tried to seek his face out more, “Jon? Stop doing what?”

Inhaling, he sat up, grabbing a hand of your which had slid down to his shoulder, forcing it in front of his chest to leave a kiss against the back. Holding it in place it forced you to lean more against his back as he turned to somewhat find your gaze back. “Doing things for me like this, trying to take care of me.” Not changing your expression you only looked at him curiously asking why. Letting the hand go, you didn't take it back, but kept it draped over to press somewhat against his chest as he used his now free hand to run along what of your jaw he could reach. “I'm supposed to take care of you.”

A lightness sat in your eyes, but yet even as the tone matched it's softness, your words knew better then to challenge him as such. “If you need proof you take care of me perfectly fine, it's currently growing between us.” Truly, you meant it innocently, and you really should have known far better then that.

His eyes narrowed for a moment before Jons far superior strength managed to turn on you. Before the understanding of the moment hit, in an instance your back was flat against the bed as Jon how hovered over you. Both of his hands pressed somewhere on the sheets beside your frame. A laugh left you with ease, “Jon-”

Smiling brightly in return he said your name in the same mocking tone. But as soon as the laugh on you faded into a quiet, tender smile, it quickly thus melted along with your heart as you felt that growing in your heart of adoration. Jon made it too easy, and part of you in the back of your head despised that he once thought he would never have or deserve anything close to this.

Running a hand over the facial hair on his jaw, you let your thumb trace against the scratching feeling as your other sat just above where your scar was, even covered up. Hardly but a whisper on you, as if now the room became only what was here and now on the bed. “I hate to be the bearer of difficult news, my King. But if only a mention of it garners such a reaction, I'm not sure how I'm going to ever get anything accomplished once it starts showing.”

The tease was on the tip of his tongue you could tell, but he held it back. Swallowing the jest right back down as he inhaled deeply. Bright eyes shining down at you even despite the darkness falling upon the room in the night. Low and still thick as if such rawness in him brought out the most Northern of an accent deep in his capability. “When do you?” Your head tilting best it could against the sheets in question, he repeated himself just a softly. “When do you start showing?”

He had been there to see Lady Catelyn go through four pregnancies but it wasn't quite as if she was eager to have her husbands bastard around her in her more sensitive states. Jon usually avoided her in the early months to not accidentally instigate things. Almost eleven years after her last one, it wasn't as if Jon was spending hoards of time around pregnant women at the Wall. Part of him almost felt disappointed in himself for how much he realized he didn't yet know about this process.

Yet not for a moment did it even occur in your mind the same thought. Your eyes distant in trying to search back to a life long passed. “Two moons passed when I started to notice, but it wasn't until around three when I couldn't hide it anymore.”

Grey eyes trailing downward, Jon pulled back, now more kneeling between your legs upright, a hand running down your waist and hip until his thumb could reach where he knew your scar was. Perhaps it was the familiarity that calmed you, and yet Jon felt a skip in his heart. Something rough caught in his throat that refused to come out, were he with anyone else he'd worry they'd mistaken the frowning in his expression as a negative. But you knew him.

Wanting to sit up to go to him, you knew though it would take away what he needed right now. And even in the quiet of the room, you could hear Jons head spinning. Robb had it easy, he had always wanted it, and knew one day it was coming his way. Jon didn't. He had thought of it, obsessed over it, rambled about it when deep inside of you but it wasn't until he could sit there and know the life in your womb was his did it feel real.

His eyes flickering up to meet yours, slowly when he didn't break gaze you sat up. A breathless chuckle almost leaving you, it had started already. Jon moving in an instant to gently help you sit up, moving so you both sat more side by side on the bed facing the other. Your hand finding his cheek once more, Jons both at your waist. Dragging back from your stomach up to you again.

Shaking his head you knew he was struggling to even comprehend whatever words were forming in his mind. Instead, you leaned forward. A light capture of his lips to yours, Jon moved to cup both of your cheeks in return. Deepening it in a manner of seconds, your hands drifted to rest along the back of his neck and shoulders. His kiss wasn't greedy or demanding, but there was a pouring of nerves he was trying to get rid of in your lips. Refusing to let you go until the anxieties filtered out, but it wasn't that easy you knew.

Still, you let Jon guide your kiss, soft lips begging yours not to leave his for too long or he'd pull you right back before you could catch one proper inhale of air. Moving to wrap an arm around your waist, Jon suddenly shifted both of you. Pulling just barley from your lips, his eyes heavy as they looked dark at you and back down to your lips as he pulled you up. His legs swinging over the edge of the bed before he hauled you to perch straddling his lap. Your hands clutched at his shoulders and both of his tight at your hip.

Jon kept you a decent amount from his chest though, despite the begging in his lips to kiss yours again he trailed his eyes down your neck, to your chest and resting finally at your stomach. Rasping out, he almost seemed like he could not choose between the dark need brewing in him, and something far more wide eyed and boyish in honesty. “The first day you arrived in Winterfell,” A huff of a laugh left him as his voice dreamed of past. “I thought you were the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. Standing all alone in the training yard, but the moment Robb and I went up to you, the last thing I wanted to do was talk to you.”

Hands running up and down your hips, material bunching and smoothing out with each instance. Your hands wrapped gently around the back of his neck to toy with the curls loose around his head.

Barley finding your eyes he just looked to where you suspected he wished he could see without the dress in his way. “I knew I'd have to tell you I was a Snow, and I knew after that you wouldn't want to talk to me.” Your brows narrowed, something jolting at your heart as you looked at him in a despair but he continued onward. “Girls never wanted to talk to me after they learned my name. And I knew the pretty daughter of the Kings brother wouldn't ever want to talk to a bastard. But then I told you, and you didn't do anything. You asked if I was Ned Starks other son, and you never said anything about it after.”

You both knew you wouldn't remember that, you recalled very little about the day you arrived given how fever ridden you were pretending not to feel. But you did remember meeting him properly the second time, but you didn't care then either. Fingers running through his hair, stopping at the pause of any tangle and gently running through them carefully to not disturb it. Your voice soft and as quiet as his. “Being a bastard didn't mean much to me, even then. I grew up around different members of House Seaworth, and they all came from Gin Alley. If I wasn't supposed to judge them, I didn't think I should judge you.”

Jon had only ever known Ser Davos as he was now, but he knew Karl Tanner, another from just there. A man as dangerous as he was morally reprehensible and he boasted all he could about how he was the top paid cutthroat in Flea Bottom, and if he could judge by shaking and disturbed look in the girls bruised eye in Crasters Keep, he died as sickening as he lived.

And yet on the other side was Ser Davos, a man that many, including Jon had come to greatly respect and value the opinion of. Or Sam, a highborn disowned by an abusive father because he didn't fit the rigid standards of what he saw as manhood. Grenn and Pyp, just two lowborns not given a chance in the world to succeed. Tormund, a large, outspoken wild man from beyond the wall who in another life would have every reason to consider Jon an enemy.

Outside of his family, almost everyone it felt like he was close to was something of an outcast. The ones who didn't have a place like the rest of the highborns they were surrounded by and found people in one another. Carving a place for themselves when most of them should've been cast out and forgotten.

Except you. You never made sense when Jon considered his life. A beautiful highborn Baratheon girl, the Kings niece with a fancy education and lived in the Red Keep, sitting on the small council. You had no place in Jons life, he thought. Most girls with less prestige then you looked down on Jon as it was, but you were as highborn as a girl could get without being a princess and you found yourself a life where nothing but a Northern Bastard was such a big part of it.

Even now, learning the truth of his mother didn't make Jon any less a bastard. It didn't change that he spent his entire life being raised as one. Jon used to know he was lucky to even live in Winterfell. Most highborn bastards of the North didn't get to live with whoever fathered them. But he lived with his father and grew up with five siblings alongside him as if be belonged but you shouldn't have cared about that.

No one in the Kings company gave him a second glance until Tyrion Lannister came creeping around the corner with advice Jon was then too angry to listen too. It was only you.

Sitting there, his grey eyes trained so heavily on your stomach, he knew there was nothing to see but a scar, but it still felt so odd to know it was real. Him being a father? And not just that, but a father to a legitimate child? Snow or Stark in name his child still wouldn't be a bastard and Jon struggled with it. He didn't want to get you pregnant knowing putting a child in you, a bastard child, would be ruining that child's life before they even had a chance.

The only children he dreamed of were yours, but he wasn't stupid. He knew it was a dream. It was part of why he knew he was taking the black. What was left? He couldn't have a life with you so why stay and mourn what was still right in front of him? But yet? Now?

Jon wasn't sure how quiet he had been for how long. He had told you he wanted to keep this to yourselves for right now, until he could get you safe and sound back in Winterfell and that was true, but there was one more thing Jon wanted to do before his people knew.

If this was real, if this was happening, Jon wanted to go see her. To tell her that Jon would do everything to make sure what happened to her, wouldn't happen to you. Jon wanted to get you home, so before he could even see the burial place of the only father he cared about to tell, he first wanted to visit the resting place of Lyanna Stark.

Jon wanted to promise his mother he'd protect you the way someone should've protected her.

Only a rasping whisper came out, hands still running up and down your sides. “Let me see.” A hum of question came from you, but Jon ignored it. Suddenly moving you around himself to undress you, tossing each offending article in his way mindlessly to the ground.

“Jon, there's nothing to see yet.”

But he didn't listen, not until there was only one thing left on you, but otherwise bare in the cold air of the room, yet warm in Jons touch. He skipped past everything else to seek out the scar. Nothing else mattered, but he stared intently at it until the greys turned black in colour in his eyes. You prompted his name once more, a hand running along the hair at the side of his head when Jon more hissed out with his jaw clenching.

“It started with you, didn't it?” When his eyes soared up to meet yours, there was anger in them. Which grew in the second of silence as you contemplated his question. “The night you died, it started with you. With this.” Keeping one hand at the small of your back to support you, his other moved to trace more purposely over the scar. All you could do was nod, you weren't sure you knew what to say if anything at all. “He killed your son before he even killed you. How far along were you?”

A skip in your heart felt heavy and dizzying, you weren't sure why his demeanour changed so suddenly, but you stammered trying to seek the right answer. “Around five months.”

Something in Jon was blazing with rage, you couldn't identify where it came from but you knew this wasn't going to be the last this was brought up. A distinct feeling in your veins that the longer you were with child this time, the longer you survived the worse this feeling in him would continue to grow. Almost growling, “Five months. You wouldn't have been able to hide it.”

You didn't want to think of it, the disgust in words as you had to stand there in the Twins and let Walder Frey leer over your pregnant form with an utter perversion for doing so in front of Robb. Knowing Robb needed his support more then he wanted to put a stop to his comments, knowing that in hours time, he'd have his men close the doors and end it all.

Shaking your head, you weren't angry as him, but not quite as present as you hoped. “No. Lord Tywin had learned I was pregnant by then. That's why it all happened so fast. Word had reached him and I couldn't hide it anymore, so he moved quickly. Organized everything the moment we left Roose Bolton at Harrenhal.” A rough rasp in his voice almost to himself that he wouldn't let it happen again. Your attempt to lighten his mood didn't work. “Tywin Lannister and Roose Bolton are both dead, it would be far harder for it to happen again now.”

Finding yours, Jons hands on you were fighting not to hold you tight enough to bruise but you knew he wanted to do more. Something inside him had switched, and something far closer to an animal was raging inside of him now. “This isn't a joke.” Your gaze softened at his, trying to implore him to ease up but at the same time, you suspected he was too worked up.

The tighter his hands on you were, the more Jon seemed to without notice, drag your covered hips down onto his. Even under all his own clothes, you could feel his cock twitching with how hard something protective was working up inside of him. “You understand why I need you to listen to me from now on?” You nodded almost a bit shyly, unsure how to approach his agitation yet. Inhaling deep enough his chest rose and fell quite visibly, Jon leaned in. The hand on your scar moving to your hip as the one around your back rose to pull your forehead to press against his. Breath hot as it trailed along your skin. “I have to protect you, both of you from now on. So please, darling. I need you to trust me when I want you to listen to what I say. I couldn't protect you then, so let me do it now.”

Part of you wished you had an argument against it, you really did. Your hands braced against his shoulders, you nodded. Jon encouraging you with the hand keeping your head to his, ran down the length of your hair. Prompting you to vocalize it to him. “I promise, Jon.”

Sighing deeply, he pulled back to look at you, only to let his eyes that time trail downward in a much greedier manner. Hard underneath you, he knew you could feel it and both his hands this time ran up from your hips to your sides so close to your breasts but just an inch or two away from touching them.

Only as his eyes found themselves trapped once they trailed back up and reached your breasts did a bit of a light in your heart force a far too adoring smirk out for how little you had on. For everything this conversation had been, and everything which led up to how worked up Jon got himself both in something protectively angry and in a raw lust, still deep down, all men had something that turned them back into teenage boys. Now his dark eyes were more of the man who already knows what he has, but there was still almost a bit of wonder like a boy seeing them for the first time. A tease leaving your lips far before you could think better of it, “Is this your first time seeing a girls chest, your grace?”

Peeling his eyes up, a shimmer of playfulness sparked in his eyes but he was not quite that teenage boy anymore. A sturdy confidence in how he hadn't blinked the same time he reached up, both hands grabbing your breasts with a greedy hold. Thumbs both moving to run across the small buds already quick to react under his touch and the cold air around you. Raising an eyebrow, Jon spoke calm and collected despite the twitch of his cock you could feel under you once more. “You remember which one of us was the nervous one that day?”

You knew the answer and just as the wrong one was to intentionally come out of your mouth, his fingers twisted both. A gasp leaving you as your head dropped, fingertips digging harsher into his shoulders. He could play them as a minstrel plays their instrument, Jon had long since fine tuned your sound and mastered his craft.

Breathless a bit, you didn't quite raise your head back up as the sparking of something twisting and beautiful was found right in his touch. Fogging your mind and point until you had nothing left but the meek truth to spit out. “Me it- it was always..” Eyes slipping shut you tried not to gasp the more roughly he twisted, begging to yank them but not quite committing. “Gods, you always made me nervous..”

The husk in his voice gave away that he wasn't as unaffected as he wanted to pretend. “Do I still?” But when you nodded, Jon breathed out such a lovely laugh that his hands switched back to almost a caressing sort of grope, but it didn't really bring you back down any. “Everything you are, and I make you nervous. Why?”

He was being cruel, you thought. Jon was asking for a true answer while refusing to let his hands sit innocently on you instead of this. But you kept that feeling growing in your core, radiating down between your legs and begging something terribly and needy in you that wanted Jons clothes off compared to almost all of yours already gone.

“Darling?” Your face almost winced trying to push passed the building inside you, telling yourself not to move against his cock as if you were too impatient to wait. He asked you a question, and your breathing was heavy as you calmed down your heart long enough to form an answer. Forcing your head up, meeting his eyes once more, they were soft and yet so sadistically knowing.

Swallowing, ironically, in a nervous fashion you tried to ignore the greed of his rough hands large against your breasts. “You're overwhelming, being with you is a lot.” Asking why, one hand found the small bud on your chest to twist and the other continued far gentler. “You're intimidating..the way you can stand over me, knowing exactly what you want, it- gods, it makes me want to do anything you ask..anything you want..”

A shiver ran through you, and just as your head dropped again, one left your chest to tilt your chin back to meet his eye. “Anything?” Nodding eagerly, Jon exhaled as shakily as the shiver had moved down your own spine. Eyes a bit more soft as he eased up on their intensity. “There is one thing I want.”

There was the intimidation, no matter how much time had passed you were never the one holding the cards with a man. You were weak in his touch, and you nodded once more, far too eager then Jon was expecting. “I'll do it, I promise.”

His eyes closed for a moment, a small whisper for you to stop almost too quiet to be heard. “It'll be easier to show you then explain. But first, take these off for me, alright?” Nodding down to his clothes you felt so relieved. Feeling his bare skin against yours wasn't even sensual, it was an intimacy that you craved in every needy to innocent form.

Jon moved you back, getting you to brace on his shoulders to stand you up on two feet, he paused any further movement. Both hands dragging down the edges of the last material hiding you from him, at an eye level sight Jon shut his eyes as he groaned deep in his chest. Head resting on your lower stomach by your scar, he pushed himself up and standing before you as well.

Nothing on you and almost everything still adorning his person, you felt small against him, and you felt that need begging once more between your legs, but you had a task to do. A hand of his trailing along your hip, but Jon otherwise stayed silent as you worked. The cold of the room around you had your fingers working slower, but you had a growing sense Jon wanted it that way. Grey eyes watching you intently the entire time, and you knew Jon hadn't the clue this was exactly what you were talking about.

He said not a word, but stood there with a silent, stoic confidence as his eyes took in your bare form over and over as you dutifully took the layers off of him. There was an authority to the way Jon could stand there in silence, one he must think you were exaggerating but it only caused you to work to keep your breathing even in front of him.

Maybe it was what you had learned keeping your mind tethered to both men, but the comparison was striking in your mind as let the last layer covering his torso sit neatly to the side before kneeling in front of him to continue.

Robb would talk, he always did. It never bothered him that you didn't say a lot sometimes, he was happy to fill the air for you and he would do so in a manner he knew would work you up. He'd stand there as you knelt in front of him and say all the right things to make you want him to fill your mouth the second you got everything off of him.

Jon though? He was silent, stoic, and didn't say things to work you up. He said them in a husking voice because he was rambling them out as he was the one already worked up. But he would stand there as you undressed him, knowing you would do the work and he didn't have to say a word. It wasn't as teasing and seducing as Robb, but it was far more intimidating.

You'd take everything off of Jon, and stay knelt there waiting for him to decide what to do next and sometimes he'd stare at you with his dark, greedy eyes for a while before directing you to what he wanted. You always knew what Robb wanted, but you never knew what Jon wanted.

And as you were undoing the laces to take his boots off, you started to suspect he liked it that way. That Jon liked keeping you on edge, relying on him for direction, for what to do next, to be guided by him into the next thing. Something inside him didn't want you to just rely on him for support, he wanted you to rely on him completely.

He knew you were capable all on your own, but something inside him almost didn't want you to be. As if he had spent his whole life at the bottom being pushed around, and now as a man he wanted to take advantage that he was at the top, and keep you right under him safe and protected the way he and many others weren't. Jon relied on himself for most of his life, and now that he didn't have to, instead wished for you to let him prove you could rely on him for all the same.

But in truth, you had relied on yourself much of your life in separate ways. It was why you were the way you were, but Jon had known that for twenty years, hadn't he? He knew you always wanted to prove yourself, do everything yourself without help. You were silent and careful as you undressed him, but in your mind just perhaps it had started to click. That maybe, he was happier taking care of you, then you were trying to still take care of yourself.

He always had. It was the first thing he ever did for you, three days you were sick and unconscious and it was Jon who spent three days taking care of you. He had just never quite let go of that, and never had an opportunity to show you he could do more then just that until now.

Finally, getting Jon as bare as you were. You looked up to him, something shining bright in your eyes that spoke far more then you had said out loud. Almost biting your lip trying to keep it and your heart steady as you waited for him to do or say something first.

Jon wanted you to behave for him.

Helping you stand, Jon grabbed your hips to pull you a bit closer before letting one tilt your gaze up to his by your chin. “You can say no, but I want you to trust me. Because you're going to say no right away to this, but I promise if you trust me, you're going to like it.” The nerves hit you again, and your lack of creativity left you in the dark.

You truly knew so little what a man and woman could do with one another, and both Starks who had your heart got to have their turns guiding you into how depraved it could truly be.

“I trust you.” The manner in which Jon could ignore how achingly hard he was seemed to be a skill few men had you suspected. Guiding you to the bed, at first, you thought you understood what he thought you would be apprehensive about.

Jon laid out on the bed, gently guiding to straddle him. It made sense, you didn't feel confident in this position. You already didn't look flattering but this did not help, and you knew it showed off how utterly untalented you were in pleasing a man. It was embarrassing, you should have full control this way but all it did was expose how unappealing of a bed warmer you were.

Hands gently resting on his chest, you inhale a bit with a nervous look in your eye. “Jon,”

But his hands at your hips prompted you to move away from his cock, and your brows furrowed in an instant. Voice turning a bit stern, Jon beckoned you. “Come here.” You did not get what he was doing, or how this could possibly end up being a position he could make love to you in. Gentle promptings he moved you higher against his torso, “There we go. Come on, darling.”

But only the last minute did you realize, and you tried moving away from him in an instant. He called your name, but you moved away enough he could sit up better as you shook your head. Curling a bit in on yourself, now you felt such an immense embarrassment it grew up your chest and into your cheeks. “No, Jon- why would you-”

He thought of simply moving you back, but knew using his strength against you and forcing your hips up was a bad idea. Instead, his voice was a bit rough as if a lecture. “Because this will feel good for you, and me.”

Shaking your head, you frowned a bit. “Jon, no, that will not be good for you. That's horrible.”

But he only smiled, that bright charming smile that could melt you in an instant. “And who told you that? Your Septa?” Your eyes rolled to the side, grumbling at him to not make fun of you, but he let his back flop back onto the sheets. His hands still on your hips but now running up and down them in a bit more of a soothing manner. “I promise you, it'll be more then good for me.”

Turning away from his gaze, you felt utterly humiliated.

Jons tone was comforting, not with judgment. “What is it you think you won't like about it?”

The silence was deafening, he wouldn't budge or say another word until you answered this one you knew. Your finger tips twitching against his chest, but Jon lay back comfortably looking up at you with ease. The discomfort sat heavy in your stomach. “I already don't understand what you like about..”

Rambling off, Jon filled in the blanks for you without hesitating. “What I like about tasting you?” Still not looking at him you gave a small nod, and thus you missed the smile. “That's easy, I love doing it because I love the way you taste.” Oh the wide eyed fluster you had before going back to not at all looking near his way. Hands smoothing up and down your hips, he was patient. “So, you can take away worrying I don't enjoy your taste, what else is there? Is it the way you think you look on top of me?”

If you could get even more flustered you would pass out. “If I looked-”

Cutting you off, Jon was far too nonchalant in such a raw honesty. “You look beautiful, especially like this. What else?” Once more you said nothing, this time the insecurity sunk a lot deeper. It sunk right down to an innocent day in his chambers in Winterfell as you told him you were worried he might not enjoy being with you because you didn't know what to do. “Oh darling,”

You'd pull away if you wouldn't instantly miss the comforting feeling of his bare skin against yours. He reached up, leaning on one elbow to allow his hand to tilt your gaze back to him by your cheek. A small shrug on your shoulders, trying to play yourself off as uncaring and failing. “It's fine, I'm upset over nothing. Let's just do it, I can get over it-”

“I'm not doing this unless you tell me you want to.” Looking back at him, you hesitated to say it now that you felt the fluster drain a little. His calmness easing your heart down, and now you felt foolish to say it as if he had ever expressed dissatisfaction before.

Saying it felt childish, but you said it. “I don't know what to do.”

The charming smile on Jons face and the way he let his thumb trail over your cheek and bottom lip, he was as blunt as you had spoken it. “Good thing about this, all you need to do is enjoy yourself. But it's up to you, we won't do this if you really don't like the idea.”

Watching him in quiet for a moment before a much more genuine ask, “It won't be uncomfortable for you?” Telling you not at all, you sighed. Palms flat against his chest before inhaling. Nodding, you found the bravery passed the hesitation in your heart. “If It does-”

“If it becomes uncomfortable for either of us, we'll stop. And I'll lay you down and taste you the way I always do. Alright?” Nodding again, you sighed out a deep breathe.

Not confident enough to watch, your eyes slipped closed, as you let him guide your hips up. Both knees moving to beside his head, hands firm on your hips as he leaned up. Your hands initially tense and useless by your sides, a spark hit you, causing one to reach up to steady your almost jump, gripping the headboard.

The quick feeling of Jon nudging at your clit with his nose took you off guard until he then pressed a lingering kiss to the small bundle of nerves. A gasp high pitched leaving you, as his hands tightened to prevent you from moving away. Small, gentle brushes of his tongue stole your breath and had you seizing up from the desire it so easily drew out.

Licks one after another just to work you up and your chest tightened at how easy it was for you to want to cry out already, but Jon was only beginning. In his mind, you had offered yourself up as a feast and he now could keep you glued to his mouth as long as he wanted. You were so much easier to hold down against his mouth from this position.

He was desperately hoping you would like this, because Jon was fairly certain outside of gently hovering over you with your back against the sheets as Jon would slip inside of you, this was by far, the best way he's ever had anything of you and it wasn't even close.

Soaking your core, Jons tongue ran more flat against your clit, kiss turning almost into gently sucking at the sparking nerves and he only increased the intensity the more you writhed in his hold. You wanted to say something, anything, but there was something so unsure and unknown in you about how he went about this that kept you on an edge. How casual he was able to coax you into it and how tightly he was holding your hips. Bruises shaped just like his hands would no doubt be contrasting notably in colour against your skin tomorrow.

In another life you were the experienced one, but despite all what could have been seen as proof, it was in the contrast between you both which made you feel so new at this everytime. You and Robb both knew he was the experienced one, and neither of you shied away from that fact, he would use his greater experience to guide you with confidence. Now it was so much more complicated, for you and Jon both and yet he took the reigns as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was as if no time had passed between that day he tried to guide you in his chambers. You still the unsure girl with far too many preconceived notions about sex.

But what was once guidance from older women who implored you to view such enjoyment as the sort of behaviour men only find in a brothel, it was the creeping words of a man many months dead still spitting vitriol in your ear about how little choice you had and how the only reason you should enjoy it, was that maybe it would be less painful.

Jon though, he almost got angry when you would try and deny yourself the enjoyment. He hated when you tried to make it all about him, even though in your mess of a mind it would be so much easier to please him and move on. But instead, Jon's hands kept tight on you, but as if you were not engaging in your own pleasure enough, he seemed to get impatient.

Leaning up as much as he could from where he lay, you could feel his facial hair, thick and coarse as it was rubbing up against the sensitive, raw skin between your thighs. His mouth was warm and only adding to the growing wetness between your legs, but the dry and rough scratching of his facial hair made such a contrast that you swallowed heavily. Attempting to contain what felt like a growing whimper.

Not letting up, Jon licked more small, tight patterns against your clit. Keeping on one as it burned through you, and only when the coil begun to tighten some what inside, did he ease up and find a new manner to run his tongue over. Not even letting you go close to the edge before he drew you away from it, your hand trying to hold the wooden railing of the headboard tightening meekly, your other gripping the sheet beside his head unsure what to do.

Teeth giving the slightest of grazes along your clit, a cry jumped from your mouth just as your hips tried to jump from the sudden sharpness. Jon though, ran his tongue almost gently along you, soaking the offence with a soft brushing lick before going back to the more rough treatment. Back and forth his mouth dragged you from a soaking caress to a bladed edge and your tingling clit the wet stone keeping his sword sharp. Just like one too, Jon controlled exactly how he ran it along, and how sharp he wanted to keep.

Your insides were twisting like the moulting of lava, burning as hot and yet it stuttered your breathe to something high pitched, hand in the sheets beside him twisting to where the strain in your knuckles could be seen. Small begs of his name were all you afforded yet, only adding to the noise of ravenous desire in Jon knowing he could do more. He knew he could drag much more sounds from you, but he was playing a game of patience.

Pressing a kiss to the bundle of nerves, you closed your eyes with a shaking inhale. Trying and failing to move from his touch, the pit in your core growing and growing and your eyes slipped closed again as the desire twisted through your blood stream. Trying to infect your nerves and flowing all over like an illness, only the cause and concern was the same, how close you were. Muscles tensing and straining in his touch, your thighs shook trying to keep mostly upright as off of him as possible.

Smaller presses of his lips were given with a soothing softness, but it had you cry out unable to choose between leaning away or giving in. Teetering on an edge that had you mutter softly without giving thought to the soft nothings you were saying so gently. Muttering pleases and his name so gently that Jon couldn't tell if it was making him want to show you mercy, or drag you down further into the depraved depths which his darker mind fantasized about.

You could be so innocent the closer you were to an orgasm, relying on him to either let you or obeying without a fight if he took it away. And some days he couldn't tell what he liked more. Giving you too much and exhausting your senses from pleasure, or taking everything from you at the last minute and making you that much more needy for him but trusting to only let him give it to you when he thought you deserved it.

The things Jons already convinced you to do? Deplorable, your better more restrained instincts looked at you in dismay over what you'd wind up begging for Jon to do. You knew there was so much you didn't know about, but the more his warm tongue dragged up and down your clit with a needing hunger, the more you knew the list of what you wouldn't let him do to you, was provocatively short.

Pulling you closer and closer to that orgasm, your head dropped as you felt that strain burning between your legs from its origins in your core. “Please, Jon. Please, gods, I'll do anything. Anything you want, I'll do it please don't..”

Humming against you, Jon once more moved his mouth to you more, and once more teetered you at that precipice of pain only he could make you beg for. Teeth against your clit before sucking at it as he would the sensitive buds of your breasts. Gasping with no air, you seized a bit in his touch, but just as you felt that twisting coil begging to snap, did Jon change up again.

Though, this time, whatever desire of a meal you thought he was giving such warm soaking attention to your clit of, was nothing. In a grunt, Jon removed his mouth and turned to the side. Just somewhat, sinking his teeth into your upper thigh, but instead of the jolt of fear in memory, only a buzzing in your head making your muscles weak.

Moving his teeth upward along your thighs, Jon pulled away just enough you felt his breath exhaling against your soaked core, and yet, just as you felt your muscles loosen from how stinging being taken from your finish felt, did Jon once more find new paths.

Jon while running his tongue flat along your clit, grabbed both hips tighter and in one go? Jon humiliated you, dragging your core down to fuse his mouth. Forcing you to practically find seat on his mouth and tongue, one hand only leaving you long enough to take the hand beside him, and drag it into the loose curls around him.

Grasping your hip again, he wrapped the other around your back and perked your back up running his hand up and down your spine. Begging his name, you knew you were soaking his mouth but Jons tongue, hot and flat ran thick along your folds. Clit down to your cunt and a growl left his chest at the slightest hint of a taste.

So much of you was already coating his tongue the moment he dragged you down onto it with no room to hover away from it. Your hand in his hair trying to hold without keeping too tight, but Jons growling need himself vibrated against what already was a dizzying pleasure inside you. Head dropping down, but only lasting but a single peek.

Barley anything of his enjoyment was visible from such an angle, but it was too much. It was far too intimate having to look down and see his black curls between your legs knowing he was giving you no room to let him breathe. Running his tongue flat from your clit and back along your folds, Jon finally had enough.

He wanted to be selfish.

The hand on your spine slunk down, grasping one cheek of your ass tightly as you gasped. The other holding your hip down against his mouth, Jon sunk his tongue deep inside your cunt and once more the rawness against your thighs, how hot his mouth was and how much you soaked him still. Dragging what he could of his tongue along a wall to make you beg his name with a shaking cry.

“Please- oh fuck,” Your head all but falling back with begs high into the cold night sky, your voice was breathless as your muscles all tensed around a burning feeling hot like a white star twisting to oblivion inside of you. “Your so good, feels so good, Jon please.” Jons hands tightened as he kept you now much more by force against his mouth with a growl if you even tried to move away from his mouth desperately drinking from you. “Please let me cum, just once, please, I'll be good..I'll be so good for you, Jon...please- I'll never ask you again, I promise.”

Even through the raging noise in Jons head at how on a bordering feeling of feral he felt, he knew you likely weren't really even aware how much you began to ramble. But you did, you rambled and begged and promised in such a breathless high pitched whine, that Jon was going to hold you to it.

You promised to be good, and he was going to expect it, but his greed was as strong as your needy cries.

Vibrating deep in your core did something inaudible growl from Jons mouth, but his tongue gathered every soaking taste of what your cunt gave to him that you couldn't stop to think of anything you were saying. His name only what you recognized, but you could've asked him or promised anything and as long as he didn't take this one away from you, you'd do whatever you promised him.

Burning bright, your thighs strained in a shake, Jons fingertips digging roughly into your ass that had you almost weak enough to ask for one thing. But you didn't, and his hot mouth dragged you right up to that edge and kept you forced against his mouth to drink as soon as that coil snapped.

A loud beg of his name cried into the air like a melody, your vision dark and head falling back so lightheaded that you couldn't even stop begging of such pleasure to realize Jons own growling and grunts had turned to greedy moans as he drank every bit of what your wetness gave to him.

His other hand at your waist slid back. Jon sitting up only enough so that as both hands grasped your ass, he brought you further into his mouth as groans escaped shamelessly at your taste. Just as you felt nothing but his soaked, fat tongue lick along your cunt and inside you to taste every chance you gifted him, just as you did begs of his name so sweetly.

Were Jon a tad more cruel, he may have kept you there for so much longer but there was something he was struggling to ignore. Behind you, Jons cock was leaking seed of his own as it turned red with need and twitched and throbbed free in the air. The cold not enough to be able to grant you mercy of his size but noticeable enough for Jon that he had only one place to fix such a feeling. Dragging your orgasm with his tongue ensuring none of you went anywhere but his taste, Jon did not stop until your muscles around him relaxed as did the begging of his name.

Your breathing was so heavy, and your cunt was such a mess of your own wetness and Jons saliva drinking with a purposeful sloppiness. He pulled away only enough he could raise you off him to inhale any for air. Once more holding you in place over him as you seemed to let out a surprised noise as if he wanted you to move, but Jon shook his head.

His hot breath dancing along the soaked wetness you both let him drink of from such a feast.

Murmuring against you, the sensation making you writhe as the aftershocks glistened against you, head so heavy you almost couldn't hear Jon. But the gentle tone did not match the depravity of what he had just done. “Switch places with me. Lay down, alright?”

Grey eyes watching with a flicker up to you, you nodded with a bite to your lip but followed his lead to guide you. Your legs shaking as he ran a hand up and down your thigh, “Easy now, slowly,”

Spreading your legs almost indecently wide the moment Jon had you on your back, he followed the action you gave him by moving in between them. Hands now shoving your legs a little more apart against the bed as he hovered over you. Lips shining with what you embarrassingly knew was you, but Jon took a moment to gently watch you still shake in the aftershocks. “Thank you..”

His eyes fluttered closed, brow furrowing under it as he exhaled shakily. His hands pressed beside your head on either side, tight as he fisted the sheets under you, muttering your name in a dark warning you did not quite fully grasp the need of. Grasping your jaw, Jon leaned down to capture your lips without any further thought.

Angling you to lean up to his mercy, your hands ran along his chest reaching his shoulders and back of his neck, fingers tangling in his curls as you felt him deepen the kiss with more of an urgent greed. Only for a moment did he barley pull back, saliva trailing between your lips as the grey was barley visible in his eyes as he looked down what he could of you pressed to close. Rasping low, words almost slurred together in a heavy need. “Don't ever be nervous about letting me taste you, you're perfect.”

Before you could protest, Jon clearly read your mind, pushing you back into the bed with another kiss, rough and biting down to your bottom lip. Bare hips rutting into yours, his cock was so hard against you, begging to be paid attention to. One leg moved to rise up his hip, Jon shifting with you to wrap an arm around your thigh and hitched it up more.

Your other loose but lost, slunk a bit up to somewhat try and wrap your ankle around what you could reach of his calf as if to steady your overwhelmed mind. Letting your lips part, Jon slipped his tongue into your mouth, brushing along your tongue just as eager. The hand on your jaw sliding to cup the back of your head, keeping your mouths together without parting.

Jon forced your taste heavy on his tongue, to make you capture a bit of it. Your hands in his hair tightened as did a needy sound leave deep in your chest. Heart racing each time you felt Jons cock brush against your core but never caring enough to commit. He yanked your thigh up higher, almost trying to move it with him. Pulling back from your lips suddenly, a dark glaze over his eyes at the swiftness you tried chasing his kiss to no avail. His arm moving to all but shove the leg in his hold as much against your chest as he could, letting the other stay wide in contrast around his calf.

Looking down between your bodies with a rough sigh, Jon trailed them to your scar, up to your breasts and hardly managed to get to your lips before something inside him snapped. The hand behind your head flying down, you barley had a moment to register as he stared down at you with dark eyes. The feeling of Jon moving so the leaking tip of his cock just barley prodded your entrance. Looking down to what your bodies were too close to see, he flew back up to watch you with dark eyes, and a complete silence.

Jon tilted his head with the slightest of frowns and only in the last second did a command register in your mind. Not daring to disobey, you kept your eyes on his, hands in his hair falling to hold more firmly at his shoulders, his eyes barley narrowed and darkened as he pushed inside you.

A single, beautifully smooth thrust, he was as deep as you could take him and pushed inside as slow as it could torment you. Eyes dark and his face almost unchanged the whole time, staring you down as your own tried to keep calm but eyes fluttered in a gasp at the stretch. Cock so thick that taking all of it burned in a way that had your back arching up into him.

Jon only managed to slide out perhaps half way, before he slammed back inside you. The jostle having your head fly back to cry out, only for him to mutter angrily under his breath. Head dropping to your chest, that time Jon didn't look back. Cock so smooth and soaked, sliding back out of you before sliding back in. Shoulders and arms almost shaking as was the breathing coming from him heavy.

Slowly his cock slid in and out of you so perfectly, you felt all air leave your lungs, but it seemed to take much effort for him to go so slow. No other thrusts as rough as his first, but he dragged his cock along your walls as your nails dug into his shoulder and upper back. Trying to wrap them around, your eyes were closed with whispers of his name in nothing but desire.

Jon didn't look that way. Every slide of his cock inside of you, his muscles tensed, his eyes closed as his head was dropped. Curls dancing along your breasts, nothing guided Jon but the harmony you moved together with as he was inside of you. As if he was trying to hold back with more intensity then it was taking to make love to you.

Burning inside you, it flooded your veins and swam along every inch of your body, you tried coaxing him back to you. “Jon, please, come here,” You were fighting the pain he gave you just being inside of you, but you soaked him every single time he cock slid deep inside. Something in your heart fought against the racing desire making your mind a fogging mess wanting him to come back to you but he wouldn't.

In and out, you tried gently moving with him hoping to lull him into the same floating feeling twisting inside of you, but he instead shoved your leg as far up as he could stretch it. Sitting up better, Jon now more kneeling between your legs but having refused to leave your warmth for a single second. His other hand grabbed your free leg. Yanking it away from him and where it fell, both hands shoved you as wide as he could. Staring down at you with something angry brewing behind each thrust. Accent so thick, words so unintelligible, you knew he had hardly registered he said anything as his eyes closes shut after. Thrusts pulling such an obscene wet sound each time it was followed by a rough pound of his hips against yours. “I should've fucked you until it took that first night. I hate that I didn't.”

No words came as your heart jumped along with the screaming if pleasure begging with the pain and sting to stop, knowing stopping was the last thing you actually wanted. Your hands barley able to even touch him, he was so pulled away from you, and each pound grew rougher and rougher. His eyes slinking down to watch himself sink in and out of your cunt, Jon looked almost angry.

Before you could say a word in your hazy mind, Jon kept rambling, kept sounding like he spoke without registering he had said anything substantial. “I wanted it to take so badly, fuck- more badly then I wanted to be alive, I wanted to put a child in you that night. I wanted to force you to let me.”

Raising his eyes up, he found yours wide and innocent. Shaking his head, Jon's teeth grit as he thrusted harder, not giving you more chances to speak, he kept letting his deep husk fight over top of the slapping of his skin against yours. Fighting to not look down and watch with a dark, obsessive feeling as your cunt took his cock so perfectly. Still his voice didn't stop. “This is all I've ever wanted, wanted you to be the mother of my children, make you my wife..” A growl mixing with a groan left as his body shivered through the need. “I can't do this without you, I won't..” Another shuddering groan left him, his head dropping as he fucked into you harder. “Promise me you'll stay, promise me I won't lose you again.”

Crying his name, he barley looked up at you from his eyes trained on where his cock was pounding in and out of you. Eyes barley keeping open, your heart full and senses all overloaded you hardly could recall anything around you but him. “I'll stay, I promise, Jon. I'll stay, I'm yours. For good.”

Something in him swallowed heavily. An emotion so close to the surface on him, Jon shook his head before grabbing your hands. Pushing them back against the bed, Jons hips still pounding so roughly into yours. Fingers interlocking tightly, he held you as tight as his cock was rough inside of you, eyes wide as he looked down at you, something so strangely innocent contrasted to how he fucked you. “None of this belonged to her, it never should've been hers, I'd have rather died without having this then letting her ever have a piece of it.”

Voice stammering, your hearty was heavy as it was racing with each pound of his cock. Shaking your head but he barley met your eyes. “You have me now, as I have you, that's all that matters.” Dropping down, Jon pressed his lips to yours, hands still intertwined with his, hips still fucking into you smooth as he was roughly but he kissed you like a man still about to fall apart.

But he was, wasn't he? Hardly able to think over the twisting inside you as it was painful, but enough sense came to you as every desperation poured into you from his kiss. He was falling apart.

He was a bastard, nothing was his, no future was ever supposed to be this. He walked away from the only life he's ever known to one where the first time any told him any of this could be his, was a pretty hair of red forcing it all on a man against his will. Only to come back and find out everything he never had, all died without him anyways.

Being here, a King with a home and a kingdom and a wife and a family, and now growing between you two was life of his very own making. None of it was supposed to be his, and Jon spent his whole life knowing it was out of any reach. But it was real, it was between you both and only months would prove him it continues to be real.

Yet, as he kissed you, as his hips rutted rough and desperate into yours with a pounding slap, it was as if the moment this was over he'd go back to none of it being real. Kissing him back with as much gentle love as you could against his roughness, you moved against him. Together, locked in embrace you gave Jon the loving gentle he was struggling to see as allowed.

Pulling from your lips, Jon tried to go slow enough to press his forehead against yours, but your scratching voice beat his to the chase. “You deserve this Jon, all of this.” He tried shaking his head, but you tried to lean up as much as you could, judging his nose with yours lovingly. “You do, I promise. You've always deserved this, and now we can have it, together.”

Hands tightening holding yours, his jaw clenched as he tried to slow his cocks thrusts down to something suddenly incredible in it's slow speed. Pulling back to look at you, but instead of the angry desperation, was just Jon. The Jon you've always loved as bright and genuine as he always had been, and nudged your nose with his back. “And I promise, we'll be here to love our son. We'll both be here. I'll protect you, him, all three of us.”

Barley managing out against the floating in your chest of rough to gentle and slow, “Son?”

Were any to see, none would have guessed such a bright smile came from a man with his cock deep inside of a woman. “It's a boy, I know it is.” Shaking your head best you could, you wanted to hold back the sting but right away it boiled over and tears fell down with your own shaking head smiling.

Pressing a kiss to his lips, you pressed another, then one more trying to seek out his cheek finally for a fourth. “Been thinking about this a lot?”

“My whole life.”

Jon didn't give you any more thought, just leaned down, no longer angry and pounding as he fucked you. But slow and gentle, making sure you felt every inch of him and he felt every tight soak around his cock without missing a thing. Kissing you once more, only a gentle loving one shared as if innocent lovers but yet you were soaking his cock as he was burning your walls on the inside.

The second he felt you clench, you whined something meek into his lips, but he didn't pick up, or even let go of your hands or kiss. Just a gentle thrust as deep as he could before almost pulling out entirely as you finally seized up. A flood of water bursting through and splashing across your body with a fire that screamed only of Jons existence and nothing more. Begging his name in meaningless cries, Jon barley thrusted into you so slowly and gently twice more before he shook above you.

Sinking his cock deep, Jon felt you clench tightly around him so warm and soaking around him and he groaned your name into your kiss the moment he felt it become too much. His seed spilling deep inside of you, thrusting slowly as if he could still find a way to give you a daughter too.

Yet nothing perverse or debauched sat between you both as his seed, close to hot, spilled so thick as deep as he could inside of you. Jons lips didn't leave yours and didn't push you any further. Your hips moving together as long as he filled and filled you.

Maybe it took a lot longer for your peaks to settle, maybe your orgasms only lasted seconds and something within you wrapped that time to feel like hours. But that time, Jon didn't pull out of you, but before anything else was said, or before you could think he'd leave you, Jon turned both of you onto your side. Pulling you thigh up and open more to fit his hips, and his hand then wrapping around your front to cover your stomach and scar best he could.

Jon knew the scar would never go away, but he'd watch it move along with your growing stomach, and such an image was one he knew now, would kill more then ever, to ensure he could see and protect.

Neither of you really even came down from your ends by the time Jon gently laid you on your side, but you both fell asleep at the same time for once. Connected in body, connected in the minds of bringing him back, and in the son Jon knew was growing inside of you.

He knew, now begun the true test. More then ever, he needed to keep you safe. As terrified of anything happening to you he was, Jon knew the closer you would draw to five months with child, Jon knew he was going to have to be the strong one. You brought him down to earth tonight, but it wouldn't be many moons from now, that Jon would know, you'd feel the terror unlike any understood.

But Jon was yours as you were his, he was going to have to understand. This was not the ease of your love and life with Robb. This time, you were carrying Jons child, and more fear of losing that child then any mother could possibly comprehend.

Falling asleep along with you, Jon's heart begun to settle for the first time in weeks.

Creeping down the corridor, once more the illuminated light at the end of the tunnel was not one spoken of from death but rather a strangeness calling to the human eyes behind the wolves. The power had called to many, its source ran roots deep within the world and no one spot was its origin. It tied together in unison but was never stronger then in the snow and ice.

It had not been cut down, but fashioned into something else which did not operate as the rest of the castles holding similar fortresses. This held a face, and writing. Something which had no answer of why, just as some asked whether or not the Children of the Forest had carved faces into the great Weirwoods, or if they had always had faces, so they would always have eyes.

It was when a young boy, hair growing long and shaggy, was brought towards a tree just like it, when it started truly this time. Crippled and crawling towards it as he was gently placed down into the snow. As soon as his bare hand reached out and touched the bark, did his eyes go white and connect with a power calling to him. Few had such a reach, not the children, not man, only a select few were so intertwined with such paths of eyes that they could connect to another so directly.

Most were gifted it by those three eyes. Eyes which all could connect, seek each other out if need be, and yet it was still not known by the boy when he was called, what he was going to find when he got to where he was destined to go.

None ever knew, but all who had been shown something with such power had always come. To the crow with three eyes watching over all with the sight tied through the world, but also to the powers which came before it. Afterall, the world existed long before an old man with red eyes and a mark along his face in the shape of a raven.

For thousands of years did they sleep. Until it grew and grew, and suddenly that power drew forth such strength from the frozen lands that it rattled powers opposite of it across the world. Eternally at war, the darkness could exist without the light, but light could not exist without first coming from the darkness. The dark was where it came from, and yet the dark had fought the light all the same.

The world had changed as they slept beneath the ice. The light grew brighter and hotter until it threatened to overtake every inch of the lands with fire and blood. But a war was not battles and swords alone, war here was not the way in which man considered it. Warnings were given, and those who chose the unnatural path the light promised, paid the price of not heading that warning.

Yet it was not enough. The darkness had shown man what would happen should they force the balance into fire and blood, and now they begged more. So they watched. Their eyes were tied into the Weirwoods, and they could see without asking. The crow with three eyes did not take sides but this creature and his kind, did.

As the human eyes behind a direwolf walked one path, it had been a very long time since another path was taken by the creature. Its own destination not dissimilar.

It stood tall and old but strong and bright against the darkness and shimmering green illuminating behind it. But they had seen enough of the light refusing to give up its stronghold within the world. They had known what would happen as war once more would ravage the realms of men. The price to pay for what they did. The rest saw no other path, they saw what they needed to do for the darkness, but they were not with eyes tied to the world, as the one walking towards the sacred sight had. This one had knowledge they did not, could not.

The old man, the young crippled boy, the crow with three eyes would not be enough anymore. The dark and light would tear the world apart before the crow became ready. But, the darkness within the blood of the boy, was the same in this man that the creature was watching all on their own.

They had come and they had fought and taken. There was no match for such a brutal fight. But it was necessary. Man had many warnings before, and this would be their final one before they begun their true work. The place men had called Hardhome was where this creature met him for the first time. And from the instance they saw him, they knew this one was different.

He took the battle as a threat, and he should have. It was a display that one of him was no match against them. The sword in his hand during the midst of fighting, collided with one in the hands of the creatures own kind. Which should not have been possible. The weapons of men were nothing to then, but this man had swung and his sword did not break or shatter. Before the creature had a chance to comprehend what was about to happen, the man had knocked the blade away and cut through their body, shattering them to the wind.

But there was no glory nor triumph in his aftermath, falling to his knees in the same spot he stood realizing the weight of what he had done.

The light in the man’s blood was dim, hardly overtaking the darkness, but the creature had descended from the cliffs above and walked onto the docks which the man and all the rest had sailed away from. But the creature? The darkness was their existence, and it connected them, binded them. As if using their own person as a conduit for all their power, all had drawn the darkness out and up beside the creature rose the thousands of dead only they just cut down.

He did nothing and said nothing. He watched, and the creature knew then, they would continue to watch him in return. But the realms of men were chaos, and they watched death befall him.

Yet? A woman whose blood radiating so brightly it blinded them, she brought him back. The light in her, reignited the dim light within his blood and yet the darkness in his blood dimmed down her blinding brightness. As if fire encased their persons, and the ice thus covered over it. Protecting them both, his power now shared with her.

But, the crow with three eyes was not yet finished his own work. The crippled boy granting her power just as the old man had others before. But her and the mans powers were already connected through the blood needed to bring him back. And so the power granted in her, too strengthened his. The world was putting those into place whom would be needed most in the war to come.

But the creature was not one without any reason. They knew that the darkness and the light both needed those to serve them, and those who served, could not be ignorant any longer.

So they walked and finally did the sacred sight come into view. The Weirwood was strong and tall, and as blueish skin of milk white touched the bark, so did their eyes turn white just like it.

But it was when not a hand, but the gentle scrape of a wolfs paw against the tall gate with its carved face met the surface so did the minds attached.

Visions shown which both could see. The blood of war, the mans own death through his now beating heart, a dense land of men and castles as a large shadow flew over top of it, an iron seat drenched in white as the snows around them covered every surface in the great sized room.

Bloods, birds, crypts, her, and yet finally came the ice. The snow and the darkness which they were born from. Nothing spoken, only a destination shown. It was a calling further then any had asked of men before.

They needed to know if the light shared between he and his mate had overtook the natural darkness in his blood. In this vision between the two, did the Great Wolf stand before them. Kneeling down their crystal blue eyes met ones of red, and it was sealed.

They would come, they knew it.

As Ghosts paw fell back again to the ground, did the direwolf return to his own mind alone and, run from the carved face of the gate under the Nightfort into the room Jon was in.

Now gasping for air as silently as he could without startling you awake, he and Ghosts eyes met. Jons breathing evened out, beckoning the direwolf silently to more by his side. There was no use Jon trying to dissuade him from climbing up onto the bed, regardless how much space he took up.

Turning more to his side, Jon let a hand tenderly come down to run along your arm and down your side as the grey in his eyes were wide and bright with something he had no words for to explain. What they promised waiting for him at the end, Jon did not know, but something heavy ate away at his heart as he watched you sleep in peace.

Tormund was right. The answers lay out there, but one more person beyond Jon and Ghost alone, were being told to go out there and find them.

And it was that realization that had Jon lay awake, consumed by it for days.

#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

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msweebyness · 11 months

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DuPont School for Monstrous Youths- Headcanons

Here are some fun facts about the kids from the Monster Universe! As always, @imsparky2002 and @artzychic27! If you guys want to follow up with some of your own, I’d love that! Enjoy these little tidbits! Leave thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

The effects of Alix’s stone gaze varies based on her mood at the time and whether or not she did it on purpose. The time frame can vary anywhere from around half an hour to a full week, so watch yourself with this Gorgon!

She has eighteen snakes in all, named as follows: Corkscrew, Iggy, JuJu, Flicks, Nyssa, Twister, Fitz, Ripper, Duke, Marty, Dodger, Jazz, Kit, Babs, Turbo, Rambo, Glimmer, and Bastard (or Bas).

Ondine needs to douse her gills with water every twenty minutes or so, or else her skin will dry out. Her friends usually have spare bottles with them in case she forgets to bring her own.

Simon is frequently getting hit by things he didn’t see coming. In a literal and physical sense. Cyclopes have terrible peripheral vision.

Kim hates vegetables and anything sweet due to werewolves being carnivores. You will only find steak in this boy’s lunchbox!

His friends all keep treats and toys on hand to distract him when needed. His favorite toy is a squeaky bone that is rarely not kept in his backpack.

Ivan and Denise have a habit of engaging in random wrestling matches no matter the time of day. They could be sitting at lunch and one will grab the other in a headlock. Their friends and partners have accepted this as a Sasquatch/Yeti thing, and it’s not like anyone can stop them.

They also have a hype-up ritual of sorts that they perform when in competitive or battle-adjacent situations, consisting of punching each other in the stomach as hard as possible, letting out a loud scream/roar in each other’s faces, before finally violently cracking their heads together. It’s…frightening.

Waving any kind of fabric in Cosette’s face will enrage them and cause her to charge. Playing matador may seem like a funny idea at the time, but it’ll end with your ribs broken.

Aurore’s alien species can learn languages and read people’s minds and feelings by touching their foreheads. So if she asks for permission to do this, that’s why!

Mireille can contort and flatten her body to fit into the smallest and strangest spaces possible, and they often use this skill to find somewhere to hide when they need time to unwind.

Nathaniel is as heavy as being made of solid stone would suggest, only Ivan and Denise are capable of lifting him. For this reason, he never goes swimming.

The war between vampires and werewolves ended centuries ago with a peace treaty, but Juleka and Kim often pretend to be rivals, trading playful insults and mock-snarling at each other. (They’re actually good friends.)

Vampires have a special kind of industrial sunscreen that allows them to walk in daylight, so don’t worry about Juleka and Luka. They still don’t show up in photos though!

Marc is attracted to bright lights and can often stare at them for hours on end. Nathaniel often gives him lanterns, lamps and other light fixtures as gifts.

Nino’s charges last around a month before he needs to plug in again, and it takes a full day, so he has a pass from class and his friends take notes for him on those days.

Jean never sings opera because when phantoms do this, it makes people go completely mad. He suspects it has something to do with a certain ancestor.

Alya can only pick up solid, non-ghost objects if she’s focusing on doing so. The second she loses concentration, it phases right through her body.

Mylene’s vines have to be trimmed regularly due to growing very rapidly and in great numbers, and people are frequently tripping over them.

#miraculous ladybug #ml AU #school for monstrous youths #monster high au #Headcanons

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shinjisdone · 1 year

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Vinland Saga S2 Episode 20 Take...

Spoilers below:

God...bro...stop.

First of all the battle:

It is so interesting to see both sides of a 'warrior': The one who revels in the killing and loses himself in the blood and the one scared for their lives. Each of them experiences both sides and its just *mwah* to see FOX being the one TERRIFIED. The one who first suggested to Olmar to kill to truly "become a man". The one who was glorifying the act, telling him so sadistically how easy it is once you realize how soft and fragile a human's body is.

And now it is the Joms vikings who feel the same glee as they strike down each slave as if they are toothpicks.

It shows the humanity and hypocrisy. How each loses - either to the bloodlust or straight up their lives.

It also shows the difference between mere mercenaries i.e. the 'guests' and actual, trained vikings who work under the king. It's *Chef kiss*.

The look in the vikings eyes are the same as the guests and Askeladd's band.

Bro Thorgil is insane???

You know that the moment you meet him but he keeps doing mad things to keep reminding you. Like, dude swam around the island with a sword on his back, no armor to defend himself and was ready to decapitate the king who he worked for just months ago???? Cuz his family got insulted thats why.

Bro is on the same level as Thorkell.

And Canute actually fighting back??? AND ATTEMPTING TO KILL THORGIL TOO? My man got guts and its so surprising.

There is no way Thorgil thought he might do that. Plus, he was too confident to even think he might lose.

Ketil u son of a bitch he survived. There is just something infuriating and tragic knowing a phony like him could fall this deep and low in his own arrogance, pride, weakness and delusion.

Man shouldve died. Stop saving him, Snake.

And now to the tearjerker

Bro

Bro bro bro. Arnheid just...seeing her family waiting for her? Hinting even an episode before that her unborn child is already dead. Gardar took care of it like its own kid in the sequence.

And she woke up just to say her thanks and bid goodbye. Thorfinn and Einar keep trying to give her hope and not to die...

But she keeps on asking; Where will we go and is there war? Is there slave trade? If so, then I don't want it.

She'd rather die. All of these things are just another prolonging nightmare for her.

I was a bit sceptical of Arnheid as a character but it all makes so much sense.

She's just supposed to be a normal woman in the world of the nordics. The world of vikings, war and slaves. Not the daughter or wife of a warrior or anything but just a woman.

She had everything that was part of a normal life. A village, a home, a husband and a child and it's all just taken from her.

She did absolutly nothing wrong. Her only crime being her existence.

When there are no men to defend you in times like these, you are taken away as a slave, your toddler child seen as useless and killed. You are taken to a master and work as his servant, maid and bedwarmer. She becomes pregnant without asking for it but decides and has the strength to protect her second child.

And then...one thing goes wrong and it all comes tumbling down. The master who "adores" her beats her to death and the one person she wanted to protect dies.

"Everyone I loved died. Why should I live?" She has no reason to live anymore.

This isn't just tragedy falling upon you. It's a young woman's will being completely destroyed by the cruelty of this world - of the men who wage war and those who enslave her.

Why should women live in a world like this? Anything peaceful can be taken from them in an blink of an eye and they are collected either as a "prize" for the vikings or sold off as slaves. They are especially vulnerable compared to men. They are straight up SOUGHT by raiders. It's insanity.

The war takes away their fathers, husbands, Brothers and sons. Slavery takes away their mothers, sisters and daughters.

And her speech of asking why she should live mirrors Thorfinn's speech of "Nothing good has ever happend to me" - That's what I think at least.

It's the reason why he looks so pained at that part especially I believe.

Man lets all say thank you to Thorfinn's convenient elephant-like memory. Guy remembers when you sneezed and why like 7 years ago.

Just seeing him try to bring her back to life like his father did, which he saw when HE WAS SIX AND SO CONFUSED ON WHAT HIS DAD WAS DOING AND IT WAS FOR ANOTHER SLAVE NO LESS

And Einar keeps on trying to give her hope 😢 he confesses how much he likes her, even now...

And oooooooooouuuugh here comes Ketil and my blood boils

SNAKE STOP SAVING HIS ASS

Einar trying to kill him and PUNCHING THORFINN when he tried to stop him hurts. My man would never raise a hand against Thorfinn but here he did nooo.

Bro but Thorfinn finally snapping him out of this oh so familiar rage and telling him "don't become like me. Don't drown in that nightmare I've had" *sobs*

*BIG SOB*

They make her a grave...and Thorfinn, once again, just conveniently remembers what Canute once said about his view on God and Love.

And now he just...wants to stop him???? Bro how????

He SAID THERE WOULD BE AT LEAST 50 MEN AND THE WORST CASE SCENARIO IS THAT HE'LL GET AWAY WITH HIS LIFE AT LEAST

STOP SAYING THAT UR SCARING ME

LEIF ALREADY LOST U LIKE 2X PLS DONT DO SOMETHING RECKLESS

IM LEGIT SCARED. WHATS HE GONNA DO? TALK????

Ugh...I'm so feelings it makes me sick

#vinland saga season 2 #Vinland saga #Episode 20 #Hot take I think #Im so scared #Episode opinion #Thorfinn don't be an idiot #Ur so good at being an idiot thats what worries me

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malevolentbooks · 2 years

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30: Sojourn

"So, you're seriously going to do it? Leave the mercenary life behind and try to find more honorable employment?"

I didn't like the way he said it. He was baiting me, and not in a subtle way. I was not going to rise to it and give him the satisfaction though.

"The idea of 'honor' has nothing to do with it and you know it, Henri."

"Oh, so I've even lost my rank now, have I? I'm just another person in your world, soon to be a stranger?"

Esmee stopped her packing and gazed at the Captain. "I'm sorry, are we back in primary school? Are you trying to raise that level of drama? Will you be insulting my skirt for being out of style next."

He paused, not sure where that comment had come from, not being terribly willing to ask. "Fine. But there has got to be more to this then you're telling me. If anything the last few months have been way more positive than normal, and certainly provide no call for leaving this behind."

"Oh, yes. The last few months were great. We got a full six months pay without the need to do any work. Hard to complain about that."

"And yet?"

"And yet you seem to forget that the reason we got that pay was that our erstwhile commander stabbed our employer-to-be to death at the contract signing because he didn't know how commas worked!"

"I suspect there was more to it than that." he said defensively.

"Maybe, but given the number of people who wound up dead because of an argument over grammar, we'll never know." Esmee said, growing exasperated.

"Nobody in that room was innocent, Esmee. They'd all done things that warranted justice, and it was only a matter of time before it caught up with them."

"Ah, here we get to the crux of the issue. Nobody in that room whose name you knew was innocent. Did you know four servants were also killed, along with a scribe and lawyer, both of whom were just there to present the paperwork? Lieutenant Florin's son got to watch his father get stabbed to death and we very luck to escape with his own life. Like most of the things we do, plenty of innocent people got hurt. We just got used to not counting them." Esmee said, her voice falling as she tripped over the last few words.

"Fine. Fine. People get hurt in our trade. That's just how it is. We don't get to choose the battles the same way we can choose the war. It's not like we seek these people out to end their lives. They're just...caught in the middle."

"I suspect they'd have more of an issue with the way things worked out, had they the choice afterward."

"Maybe they would. Or maybe our opponents would have killed them, or bandits, or the pox. Do you seriously thing this sojourn into the world of civil society is going to change that?"

"It's not a sojourn, Henri. I'm leaving. I'm done. I can't do this anymore and pretend that it's not affecting me."

"And what about us?"

"Henri, there was somebody warming your bed before me, and you and I both know there will be somebody warming your bed when I'm gone." Esmee snapped. "The time when that could have been any more passed a while back."

He rubbed his face. "I didn't mean that us. I mean those of us who continue in this life? Denounced by you in departure."

"You have the same choice I do, Henri."

"It's easier for you."

"It is not." Esmee responded sharply. "The fact that I can admit something is necessary for me doesn't mean it's easy. What could possibly make you think it is?"

He stood a moment. "The fact that you can make the decision." he said softly, then turned and walked out of the tent.

"It's not..." Esmee said to herself, slowly folding the same shirt for the fifth time before finally putting in the bag. "It's just necessary."

#FFxivWrite2022 #FFxivWrite #FFxiv

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jasontoddiefor · 3 years

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A gift for @thenegoteator :D

It took a Temple to raise a child, and Mace Windu was very much aware of this. However, it did not explain what Ahsoka Tano was doing at his door in the middle of the night. Ahsoka had deep bags under her eyes, which wasn’t too much of a surprise considering the current living arrangements of her lineage. While little Luke and Leia were relatively well-behaved newborns, they were still only a few weeks old. If their human caretakers didn’t wake up at every single little whimper, then the togruta with the superior hearing certainly would.

“Do you want to come inside?” Mace asked, not letting his confusion show. He was used to people coming to his door at the oddest hours.

“If—if I can?” Ahsoka replied as if only now becoming aware of her actions. In this, she reminded Mace of her Grandmaster and the many nights Mace had found Obi-Wan coming to his doorstep during the first months of Anakin’s stay at the Temple.

“My door is always open, Padawan,” Mace said – and watched her wince.

Ah.

So there was the problem.

“Caleb is currently sleeping in my bed as Depa is away,” Mace explained. “So please keep your voice down. I don’t want to wake him unnecessarily.”

The boy had already had a hellish enough month behind him, he needed all the rest he could get. Even though the war was officially over, enough planets refused to surrender, drawing out the battles until they had nothing but children left to sacrifice. It weighed on Mace’s shoulders, making him wonder whether he wasn’t too old to carry such burdens still.

Ahsoka nodded and followed Mace inside. He couldn’t recall whether Ahsoka had been in his room before, but from the way she eagerly looked around his quarters, taking in the sight of old instruments, books, and holos, he guessed she hadn’t. Well, at one point in their life, every Jedi had set a foot inside Mace’s quarters, so this was bound to happen sooner or later.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”

Ahsoka tore herself away from the sight and looked at him with surprise. “I—yes? That would be nice.”

“Then I will make a cup. Do you have any preferences? I believe I even have Obi-Wan’s favorite blend here.”

Mace had no idea whether he had bought it or if Obi-Wan had just left it here from himself when he came over. Knowing the other man, it was likely that the latter was the case. For a man claiming to be so very polite, Obi-Wan could be a right brat.

Mace’s kitchen was small, with only a few cabinets and one shelf, two cooking tiles, and an oven. He wasn’t much of a cook himself and preferred to eat in the cafeteria with everyone, frequently taste-tasting what the Initiates had prepared. He selected two uneven cups Depa had made for him when she’d been young from the shelf. Why she had decided to pick up pottery of all hobbies was beside him, but he supposed that she found the motion soothing. Devan did enjoy parkouring through the lower levels and Echuu was quite content playing the guitar to calm himself.

Perhaps Mace should focus less on why all three of his Padawans had decided they wouldn’t follow him into theatre so they could continue to make fun of him. Setting the water to boil, Mace searched through his cabinets until he found Obi-Wan’s favorite blend. The fruity tea was far from the blend he preferred, but Mace prided himself on being a good host. While he waited for the tea to finish steeping, Mace enjoyed the quiet of the night. For all that there were few sounds as dear to him as that of people walking, or in the case of some younglings and few selected Knights, running, down their large hallways, Mace could appreciate the quiet when the world came to rest.

With two finished cups in hand, he returned to the living room, where he found Ahsoka curled up on the sofa, no longer studying his quarters for any hidden secrets.

“Thank you,” she said when she accepted the cup from him. She held it in her hands as if to warm them, letting the steam hit her face. She breathed in once, twice, finding her rhythm again. Mace waited until she’d calmed enough to speak up.

“What brings you to my door, Padawan Tano?”

Ahsoka flinched and appeared to make herself even smaller as if attempting to vanish. When it became apparent that it didn’t work, that silence hadn’t been what she had sought him out for, she let out a sigh. “You keep calling that.”

“Calling you what?” Mace asked, his brow raised, playing oblivious.

“… Padawan.”

“Are you not? I was under the impression that you had returned to the Temple.”

“I did, but I still left,” Ahsoka replied. “I left and I was convinced that I had to leave and that it was good that I did. I still think I had to leave the Temple behind.”

“Then why are you torn?”

Ahsoka’s hold on her cup tightened and so, perhaps in wise anticipation, she set it on the table and buried her hands in her robes instead, hiding their twitching from view. Mace could trace all her mannerisms to her teachers and couldn’t imagine what it must be like to purposefully rip all those pieces from yourself when they had become so ingrained in your very being. Even Dooku, who’d fallen so far from their beliefs, had been unable to fully rid himself of Yoda’s lessons. Maybe it was for the best. Hope had become a scarce commodity during the war, yet Mace considered the possibility that in a decade, they wouldn’t be imprisoning a Sith anymore.

“But am I still a Padawan? A member of this Order?” Ahsoka asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she shook like the leaves on the trees in the courtyard.

“Has your Master told you anything different?”

Ahsoka paused. “…. No.”

Seeing that realization was settling within her, Mace nodded. “Then you should not doubt him. You are a Jedi, Ahsoka Tano, and you will remain one as long as you live by our tenets.”

That teased a startled laugh from her. “Compassion for all except people who cheat at push-n-pull?”

As if transported back ten years, hearing Anakin say the same, Mace snorted. “The similarities between you and your Master astonish me every time. Yes, Padawan Tano, compassion for all.”

This seemed to calm the youth as she reached for her cup again and emptied it slowly. “It’s good.”

Mace smiled into his own cup. “I’d be insulted if it wasn’t. Obi-Wan forced me to memorize all the steps for making it.”

The then young Knight had been frazzled, and Mace honestly couldn’t tell what it had been about and had forced Mace to learn how to make this tea until he’d more or less collapsed on Mace’s sofa, completely knocked out until morning when Anakin had picked him up.

“He does do that,” Ahsoka agreed. “I think this is the only thing anyone can make reliably now.”

“Sleep-deprived much?” Mace inquired.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Like you wouldn’t believe. I love Luke and Leia dearly, but they are demanding and need a lot of attention.”

That was honestly kinder than Mace would have described newborns at her age.

“There is a reason why we usually don’t have children this young in the Temple,” Mace said. “They are very handful. Do you get enlisted to help very often?”

Ahsoka shook her head. “No, Obi-Wan, Skyguy, and Padmé got it covered, and I’m mostly just helping out somewhere else.”

She trailed off a little. This, perhaps, was another issue, but one that could be equally easily dealt with.

“Thank you then for going where you are needed,” Mace told her.

Ahsoka blinked. “Huh?”

“You will grow into a specific role someday, Ahsoka, and that needs time. Do not feel as if you need to earn back your place in the Temple. You don’t need to earn yourself a home you have always had. For now, trust me when I say that everyone you’ve helped is glad that you were there. It is an admirable quality to have a sense of where you are needed. Do not see it as being the odd one out.”

This was the hardest lesson to teach and learn, the fact that there was a path out there for you, but that it took time to see where it would lead. Too many of their Padawans now felt utterly lost without the structure the war had provided them with.

“Oh. I guess if you say so.”

“Yes, I do say so,” Mace agreed. Then, eyeing Ahsoka’s empty cup, he added on, “do you want another?”

“No.” Ahsoka yawned. “I think I might best head back.”

“You can also sleep here if you want, and don’t mind Caleb hogging the blanket. I won’t go to bed tonight anyway.”

Ahsoka squinted at him as if attempting to discern whether he was lying. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really—”

“Ahsoka, go to bed.”

Clearly feeling better already, she saluted and, after Mace showed her his bedroom, made herself comfortable in it. She took off her shoes and tossed her robe over a chair before climbing into the bed. Ahsoka had barely laid down when Caleb already turned around to curl around her, clinging like a little monkey. After a moment’s apprehension, she relaxed and was fast asleep. Stealing one last glance at the two Padawan, Mace returned to his living room, looking through the incoming reports.

Hectic as the aftermath of the war was, as much effort as caring for their children was, Mace wouldn’t trade it for a single thing in the world.

#star wars #mace windu #ahsoka tano #jedi #light fix it verse #fanfic

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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limerence [childe x gn!reader]

prompt: limerence - noun - the state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person, typically experienced involuntarily and characterized by a strong desire for reciprocation of one's feelings pairings: childe x gn!reader word count: 2.6k warnings: check tags for tws, but overall sfw. neither angst nor fluff. a/n: best read going in blind! :) but TWs are in tags if you’re worried. absolutely nobody requested this and this was a completely self-indulgent fic simply due to my desire to write a full scenario for childe.

the russet-haired harbinger spots you that morning, like every tuesday morning, in liyue harbor. your back is turned to him, but he can recognize your figure anywhere. he watches your shoulders and hair move with every articulated word and as the distance closes between the two of you, he can hear your frustrated words. every tuesday, you come to the market for your groceries and, every tuesday, you haggle with the shopkeeper over the price of potatoes in a rather aggressive manner.

to those unfamiliar with your antics, you and the shopkeeper are wordsmiths, crafting your weapons and going to war against each other. petty insults are thrown, ones that have no weight, a complete display of unprofessionalism on both you and the shopkeeper’s behalf. nonetheless, everyone near the two of you continues on their merry way, ignoring the spectacle unfolding before them. because, childe knows, the two of you do this every week. there’s no need for childe to intervene. not only does he know this is just friendly banter with a shopkeeper you’ve known your whole life, but, when it comes to verbal conviction, your words can sway nearly anyone. it’s just… not quite as effective on those who have known you for a majority of your life.

childe rounds the corner, two of his northland bank underlings trailing behind him. his presence unsettles the shopkeepers nearby, but you pay him no mind. now able to view you from the side, childe takes advantage of the several-meter distance between the two of you to get a good look at you. a wooden lattice basket rests in the crook of your elbows, shaking ever so slightly as you gesticulate widely, determined to win your squabble. the shopkeeper, having noticed childe’s presence from afar, blanches for a brief second, but the derisive, wide grin that crosses childe’s face at the sight notifies him that the harbinger has not yet arrived to collect his debts.

you, on the other hand, take no notice of the ginger, your eyebrows furrowing even further upon realizing something had distracted the shopkeeper. childe stifles a laugh upon seeing you snap your fingers at the man, redirecting his attention. even if you weren’t as captivating to everyone else in the way you were to childe, you still knew how to demand attention from those around you. tartaglia wishes nothing more than to wrap his arms around your waist and surprise you while you’re hard at work, mastering the art of haggling, but unfortunately for the both of you, duty called for childe as well.

harbingers had very little time to rest, but he desired to spend every free moment he has with you.

---

the harbinger pads softly into your room, his socks muffling the noise of any footsteps. it had once been a challenge for him to do such an action as your bedroom door had been quite squeaky but after fixing it once you had gone to work one day, childe was now able to join you in bed without disrupting your sleep. for the harbinger, this had been important as he knew how little sleep you got and his odd work hours would often lead to him disturbing what precious little shuteye you managed to obtain.

childe had no desire to focus on issues of the past, rather desiring to focus on you, who laid asleep and vulnerable in front of him. he lays down on the other side of your bed, making sure to shift his weight in a soft manner, not wanting this action to wake you up either. he inhales sharply upon seeing you shift in your sleep, electing to hold his breath until you settle back down. fortunately for him, it didn’t take very long and the shift in your breathing pattern let him know that you were once again deep within the forests of dreamland.

he smiles softly at you, propping his head on his hand to look at you while laying on his side. moonlight filters in, weaving through the gaps of your curtains, to softly illuminate your face -- just enough light to give tartaglia a good view of of your face and he admires the way the shadows fall upon your cheeks, the oh-so-faint shadow your eyelashes cast upon your undereyes, and the disappearance of the usual worries that plagued your face.

childe always wonders why such lines form on your face, why your brows furrow with a faint sadness and anger whenever you get lost in thought, unaware anyone is watching. he’s not sure what you have to worry about when he’s always there for you. what better protection than a fatui harbinger, especially one as skilled in battle as he?

but for now, he’s content with the peaceful expression that graces your face and elects to softly brush a loose strand of your hair away from your face. while it was amusing to watch it shift with each breath you took, childe figured you’d be more comfortable if there were no hindrances to your sleep. Nonetheless, he traces a finger from the back of your ear and down your jawline, admiring the feel of your skin under his featherlight touch. i’ve been considerate enough with your sleep, he thinks. please forgive me for letting me indulge myself with you this once.

he leans over, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. tartaglia’s heart swells as he sees your lips subtly twitch in response to his gesture of love. if he can bring you happiness even within your dreams, then his duty is fulfilled. while his body is sworn to the will of the tsaritsa and his brain sworn to the protection of his family, his heart is bound to yours in an unbreakable oath, for you have locked it within your grasp and thrown away the key.

despite you whisking away all hope for the harbinger to fall in love with someone else, tartaglia wouldn’t change it for a thing, for you were the one he truly desired. he had always been bad at telling you such things during the day, but when the night coated the two of you in her blanket of darkness, tartaglia would feel the words spill from his mouth in murmured poems, trying to accurately describe how he felt about you. he was happy with such events, as the two of you communicated best within the comforting familiarity of the night’s shadows.

---

tartaglia watches, hidden in the shadows of your hallway, as you dance around the kitchen, cooking yourself some saturday morning pancakes for breakfast. you’re singing to yourself, sliding around the slick floor in your socks as you pretend you’re a world-famous idol. in your fantasies the world is your oyster, but, more importantly, the spatula in your hands is your microphone. you’re belting out the words to a song childe recognizes to be your favorite.

he doesn’t enter the kitchen, afraid of causing you to be mortified that he caught you doing such a thing, and instead leans against the wall, appreciating your singing. these vulnerable states is when childe realizes he truly loves you. the way your eyes sparkle with delight at the thought of entertaining massive audiences, yet your goofy grin still remaining as you pause your chaotic set of songs to flip the pancakes, is a sight the harbinger wouldn’t trade for the world.

however, this vulnerability worries childe. he’s not always around to protect you and he knows how irresistible you are in his eyes, so the harbinger can’t help but worry what misfortune would fall upon you if someone nefarious set their sights upon you. the tsaritsa won’t always have him stationed in liyue, so if you are in danger, it will take longer for him to come rescue you. such thoughts cloud his mind easily, but in moments like these, tartaglia also embraces his love for you, for he knows that if you were not remarkable, these thoughts would not plague his mind. you are like a small animal, precious to those who see the value in you, but fresh meat for those wanting to slaughter.

as you dance within the confines of your abode, childe secludes himself from your vision, wishing to allow you to explore your reveries in peace. he wishes not to taint the innocent moments he wishes he could still have and instead chooses to stand watch over you, protecting from the shadows of the hallway as you glide around in the radiant, warm sunlight, for he is your knight and you are the royalty in the tower he must defend until his last breath.

---

tuesday rolls around again and the harbor is bustling more than it was last week. childe watches as you weave through the crowd, empty basket in tow, ready to begin your weekly tuesday morning routine of bartering with your favorite quarrelsome shopkeeper. the shopkeeper quickly notices you and the two of you exchange friendly greetings, before immediately launching into this week’s point of contention: tomato prices.

however, it’s different for childe this week. today, he is not bound by the will of the tsaritsa, a rare lull in his usually ceaseless obligations to the throne. for today, the harbinger has a day off and he wishes to spend it with the person he loves most. a nervousness swells in his chest. tartaglia had not told you that he had been granted with spare time and he feared your reaction upon learning this news. would delivering the news end in rejection and you being angered that he’s intruding upon your free time, not having notified you of such an event earlier on? no, he chastises himself. i know you, you would never do such a thing.

he navigates through the crowd with ease, noting how those who are aware of his reputation within the town easily make way for him to get through. but today, he arrives not as a harbinger, but as the man who loves you most. he sneaks up behind you as you barter, relishing in the fact that you remain blissfully unaware to his presence.

“i think you should lower the price of each tomato by 10 mora!” you insist. the shopkeeper opens his mouth to reply, but closes his mouth and gives a nervous smile, noticing the man that stood behind you. tartaglia smiles sardonically at the man as you stare at the shopkeeper, confused by the sudden mellowing of his attitude.

“how much are tomatoes going for?” childe asks, interrupting the conversation. your eyes widen upon realizing someone else is perusing the same stall and you turn to look at the man that towers over you.

“one-hundred and twenty mora each,” the shopkeeper responds, doing his best to keep his voice level in the presence of the fatui harbinger.

“ah,” childe responds, lifting an arm up to scratch the back of his head. “no wonder you’re being haggled with! do you think you could drop the price to 50 mora for my companion here?” the words exit his mouth as a question, but one laced with a firm resolve that only demanded for the shopkeeper to comply with his words.

“y’know, i’m feeling pretty gracious today,” the shopkeeper stammers, eyes flitting between you and the man behind you as you watch the interaction, bewildered by the shopkeeper’s change in tune when it came to pricing. “how about i sell the tomatoes to you, forty mora each?”

you stare at the shopkeeper, mouth falling open in shock. “r... really?” you squeak with a hint of excitement to your voice, before pausing to think about the situation. “that’s quite generous of you, are you sure you can handle such pricing?”

the shopkeeper’s eyes dart to childe and the harbinger crosses his arms and nods at the shopkeeper with a pressed smile, narrowed eyebrows, and folded arms while nodding his head slowly up and down. in return, the shopkeeper nods his head quickly.

“of course! think of it as a reward for being a frequent customer!” the shopkeeper insists, all while you’re oblivious to his sweating of bullets at childe’s presence. he hurriedly hands you the tomatoes you desired. “thank you for being a fantastic customer!”

“oh!” you state, shocked, but taking the tomatoes and placing them in your basket.

childe drops the malicious expression and instead beams a toothy grin at the shopkeeper, his intimidating aura all but dropped. “thank you for cooperating, sir! i’ll be quite sure to take note of such generous deeds!”

the shopkeeper, seemingly understanding that he’s been reprieved of having to deal with childe’s presence, lets out a long exhale of relief before turning to sell to another customer. as you situate the produce you purchased in your basket, you realize that your produce pricing hero is about to turn away and you can’t let him escape without thanking him!

“w... wait!” you say, tugging on childe’s sleeve. he turns back and looks at you with a mischievous, knowing smirk.

“oh?” he asks coyly.

“thank you!” you state, briefly clasping your hands around one of his as a gesture of appreciation. “that was amazing! i’ve never been able to purchase tomatoes for such an inexpensive price before!”

childe revels in your kind words and praise. he shouldn’t take pride in such a frivolous thing, but the way you stare at him, eyes blown wide with adoration and awe, causes his heart to skip a few beats faster. as your sworn protector, such actions should only be routine for him, but seeing you bat your eyelashes at him and ignite his skin as you brush your fingertips over it makes him want to evoke any and all forms of praise about him that he can get out of your mouth.

however, his daydreams and desires come to a screeching halt after you utter your next few words.

“i have to ask, what’s your name? i’ve never seen you around here before?” you say excitedly, eager to get to know the harbinger.

his cheerful mood falters for a brief moment as he’s forced to face reality. despite all of the nights he’s spent with you, all of the favors he’s done for you, all of the times he’s watched over you, the two of you had never truly spoken. as a cool oceanic breeze brushes over the two of you, childe holds back a shiver of discomfort as he’s faced with the reality that he loves you far more than you love him, that he knows far more of you than you know of him, for the knight protecting the tower is always a stranger to the royalty sheltered within.

despite the fact that you bring him to his knees, you have no idea of the effect you have on the harbinger, for the two of you have never exchanged words until this moment. all of childe’s declarations of love to you have been one-sided, whether it be words or actions. his resolve is shaken to the core, but, in a split second, he steels himself and returns the smile to his face, for what good is a knight who gives up when faced with reality?

“i’m tartaglia, but you can call me childe, if you prefer,” he croons, extending a hand out to you for a handshake.

as you grasp his hand firmly and shake in return, childe isn’t sure if he ever wants to let you go.

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marvelsbanner · 3 years

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You come here often?

Prompt: Bruce x reader soulmate au where the first words your soulmate says to you appears on your body.

Pairing: Bruce Banner x reader

Warnings: very slight angst (internal, self-doubt), like one curseword

Word count: ~1400

A/N: Likes, reblogs, and feedback makes my heart happy <3 Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own!

**i don’t own marvel** **not my gif**

It wasn’t ideal, really. But it also could have been worse. He’d seen soulmate marks that were insults, curses- some really downright vile things, so it definitely could have been worse. That didn’t mean looking down to his wrist and seeing the words “That physically hurt me” didn’t fill his chest with anxiety.

He’s hurt a lot of people in his lifetime. A walking mass of destruction with no limits, a time bomb of green that seemed to go off at all the wrong times.

He couldn’t imagine getting the privilege of meeting his soulmate only to hurt him or her, to see the utter fear in their eyes that he’s seen in so many others. To cause them pain by his actions, to have to live with himself after it- what if it was bad? What if those were the last words they would speak not only to him, but to anyone at all?

The thought of it alone kept him up some nights- a faceless body puppeteering his dreams, causing him to wake up sweaty and breathless and a little green around the edges.

He usually kept a wristwatch over the words, it wasn’t uncommon for people to keep their marks private. Less likely that someone twisted would try to fake a meeting. The only person he had shown was Tony, who tried his best to calm his anxieties (His own wrist had Pepper’s iconic “Wow, you really are an asshole” after coming for an interview and finding him half naked and hungover in his office. They had been happily married for two years now)

So, he tried not to worry- he really did, but every time he would take his watch off to sleep or shower the harsh black words on his wrist made his head spin with the possibilities of what was to come.

He hated parties. Didn’t matter the occasion. Being in a loud, crowded room with warm bodies and fake smiles dripping with complementary liquor- it made him and the other guy incredible antsy.

Despite knowing how much Bruce despised parties, and the threat that he was putting everyone in attendance in, Tony managed to drag him to nearly every single event he hosted.

This time it was a charity event, Stark Enterprise making some big donation to a charity to clean up a little of the bad publicity and backlash the last Avengers battle had created.

That being so, alongside his teammates was a pool of unfamiliar faces. He nursed his drink and surveyed the room, heart pounding as his feet did an antsy shuffle.

Steve and Bucky were playing pool against Sam and Natasha, Thor and Rhodey were trading stories with important looking men in crisp suits, Pepper was making small talk with some of the women from the charity board, and Tony was no where to be found; ultimately, Bruce was on his own.

Logically, he knew that, and yet he had the feeling that he wasn’t. He felt a pair of eyes on him from the side, and turned to see a pretty woman sitting at the bar, nursing a drink and stealing a glance at him.

She gave a polite smile before ducking her head and turning away, clearly not expecting to have been caught. Or- maybe she had wanted to be caught? He wasn’t very good with these kinds of things.

“That’s Y/N Y/L/N, she works on the head committee of the charity.” Tony says, appearing seemingly out of nowhere and making Bruce nearly spill his drink. “Jesus Tony- don’t sneak up on me like that,” he yelped, running his hands through his hair and trying to calm his raising pulse. Tony simply ignored him and continued speaking.

“Spoken with her a few times- super nice, uses big words I don’t understand. Right up your ally,” he said with a wink. “Go talk to her” he ordered, giving him a slight shove in her direction.

“No- no! Tony, I don’t.. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” He fought, before Tony interrupted him- “Uh uh, no if ands or buts mister, I’m tired of seeing you sulking at these things. She’s smart. She’s pretty. You’re smart. You look half way decent cleaned up, go talk to her.” and with a final shove from Tony he decided to give in, blowing out a sigh and downing the rest of his drink.

He tried to calm his heart rate as ran his fingers through his unruly hair, wishing he had put a little more effort into getting ready today. He slowly made his way to stand by the bar where the woman was sitting, giving her a shy smile as she turned to acknowledge his presence.

Panic. Panic. Panic. “So, uh, you come here often?” He stuttered out, immediately cringing and wishing he was still in his bed- or curled up in a ditch and dead, whichever would come quicker. God, he couldn’t believe he just said that!

She snorted into her drink, nose scrunching into a cringe and she shook her head at his awful line,

“That physically hurt me. Ouch, oh god you really need to work on your flirting skills, if that’s what that even was.” She started laughing before turning her head to meet his stunned gaze, his jaw practically on the floor.

“You’ll catch flies like that” she chuckles nervously.

“S-sorry, I just, can you say that again?” He stutters out.

“You’ll catch flies..?”

“No no, before that. You- you said I hurt you.”

“Oh, I meant- I didn’t mean- its just a saying,” she tries to explain before he cuts her off.

“No no, I get that, I just..” He quickly undoes his watch and turns over his wrist, showing the dark black words matching her exact phrasing. Her own jaw drops this time, eyes going wide before her mouth snaps shut and she gives him the smallest smile. She turns over her own wrist, the words reading “So, you come here often?” and he laughs, he laughs with a big dopey smile on his face- almost afraid to believe this could actually be happening.

“You’re not the first guy to say that to me, but you’re the only guy who’s had my words in return” She says with a smile.

“God I- I’m so sorry you had to go for so many years with that god awful pickup line on your wrist” he laughs.

“No I’m sorry you had to walk around with my words, I’m sure you’ve gotten some weird looks for that one,” she replies. He gives her an almost sad smile, “I was the only one who seemed to be concerned”

Her face slightly falls before she composes it, holding out her hand for him to shake, “Y/N” she introduces herself.

“Bruce” he replies with a small smile.

“So, do you come here often?” She says with a smirk.

He gives a chuckle, “Yeah, yeah actually. I live right upstairs and am usually forced to attend these things by our generous host.” he says with a chuckle.

“You live in the tower? What are you, an avenger?” She jokes, clearly teasing before his face answered the question for him. “Oh shit, you’re actually an avenger. Are you the one in the star spangled spandex or the big green one?” She teases, but she could see his shoulders tense.

“Yeah, that would be me. The big ugly green one”

She frowns at his choice of words and tone, “Hey, I never said ugly. I always thought that guy was ruggedly handsome in a strange, green sort of way”

He puffs out a breath and shakes his head.

“What?” She asks, shoving his shoulder with her own.

“I uh, I have a kind of.. complicated life. I was honestly expecting you to run at the first mention of the big guy,” He took a deep breath before continuing, “I uh, I was always worried that the first words spoken to me by my soulmate would be after he had hurt them somehow.” He finally raised his head to meet her eyes, expecting hesitancy or fear- and yet her eyes were free from judgment.

“Well, they weren’t. Just tipsy teasing. And I’m not planning on running yet, but we did just meet. Buy me a drink and maybe I’ll change my mind afterwards” she said with a wink, and all he could do was give her a dopey smile in return. There she was, this beautiful, sharp-witted girl that he was so worried he would scare off, subtly doing her best to make sure he was at ease.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll buy you a drink. On one condition.” He said to her.

“And what is that?” She asked, quirking one brow.

“Go to dinner with me tonight.” He said smoothly.

Her lips quirked into a small smile, “I’ll be there”

He smiled and signaled for the bartender to fill up their glasses as he slid into the seat next to her, brushing his shoulder against hers with a playful smile.

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i-try-to-write-stuff · 3 years

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Misunderstood Choices Chapter 3

You stuck out like a sore thumb at those exclusive lavish and painfully boring gatherings. Sharon belonged to an elite set of rich and spoiled people who dressed in luxurious knick-knacks and trendy clothes, and generally assholes to anyone not as rich as them. You found them shallow and the people of this high society had been bitchy to you. Your skin crawled, you smiled, never reacting, knowing you can not risk offending anyone who might complain about you to your grandfather. You needed to be in your grandfather’s good books, your mother’s health was your topmost priority and if you had to drink this humiliation poison, you would do it, without any question.

Your mother had been a simpleton…a beautiful simpleton, she was working for the Vincent trading company when she met Nick Vincent and fell in love with him. Your father had showered her with expensive gifts and asked her to marry him.

For over a year your parents were involved..., living life to its fullest. Trusting that her fiancé would soon be her husband, your mother had put her career on hold. But when she got pregnant, Nick Vincent had come under pressure from his father and called off his engagement. When your mother refused to agree to an abortion, he had left her. But not before he reminded the mother of his unborn child that she had a bad reputation.

Your mother had endured those final insults. The father you had never met…. had been a hypocrite, a liar, and an unreliable partner. Your mother had to go to court to prove her baby’s paternity and after a lengthy battle had been granted a pitiful amount in child support which was never paid. As a result, your mother had started drinking too much to forget her sadness. At the age of five, you had had to go into foster care for a while. A newspaper had run a sad story about how you and your mother were thrown out in the streets because of unpaid rent and how you were scouring for the food from a dumpster near a restaurant, Nick Vincent had seen the story and had felt ashamed, he had taken steps to ensure that his ex-girlfriend and his daughter did not end up homeless and living apart again. An old ranch away from the hustle and bustle of New York had been assigned to your mother, to provide a permanent roof over your head. Your mother despised being away from the city life but you loved it and you had often had cause to be grateful for the security of a roof over their heads that could neither be sold nor taken away. Having lived through your mother’s many relationships, you did not have any illusions about men. If you glowed while thinking about Steve Rogers it was the result of your awkwardness, he was among few people who did not demean you. You may have had a crush on the tall blonde but you were also aware of how he saw you, you were pretty sure he does not even know your name. After all, you were painfully aware that there was no place for any fairy tales in real life. It is often said power begets power, similarly rich marry rich. If a rich person ever married a poor person or anyone beneath their stature it was only when the other person was extremely beautiful and intelligent. But then again even in your unlucky mother’s case, beauty hadn’t worked a miracle. The women and some men looked at him as if he hung the moon, flirted with him continuously, worshipped him, and wanted to fuck him. Steve was aware of his pull among the ladies. He had been spoilt by the admiration, appreciation, and attention he got... He was smart, narcissistic, and proud. You had been impressed by him as well. What had added feelings for him was his thoughtfulness. On several occasions, Steve had come to your rescue when his friends decided to make you the butt of their cruel jokes. Your so-called friend, Sharon, thoroughly resented having to take you everywhere she went. Sharon showed her animosity by making nasty jokes and comments that targeted your lack of attractiveness, your weight, your cheap clothing, and your apparent stupidity. Sharon’s friends soon jumped on the same bandwagon. Steve Rogers always managed to create a distraction to deflect hostile attention from you. It was surprising though, after all, he had acted that you were invisible. But he still had that gentlemanly thing going on, the protectiveness had touched you deeply. Steve might be arrogant, annoying, and overbearing at times, but he was also bold, tough, and unapologetic. You could not believe that he would accept the demeaning proposal from Arthur Vincent. Within twenty-four hours, you learned that you were very much mistaken about that part. ‘Come with me.’ Arthur said triumphantly. ‘Steve Rogers is waiting for you in the main hall. I met with his father and the lawyers this morning. All the essentials have been agreed upon. Your mother’s debts will be settled and I will send her to the rehabilitation center as soon as possible. You and Steve will be husband and wife within a week.’ ‘What???’ Shock ripped through you. Your grandfather had been right and you were wrong; Steve was willing to marry you to save his family from financial trouble. Did he feel that he had as little choice as you did? Given the option, You knew you could not turn your back on your mother, you knew she would not cope without the financial support and the treatment. It finally dawned on you that both of you were trapped by duty and loyalty. You were quite sure that he did not want to

marry you, just like you didn’t want to marry him and become an unwanted and most definitely unwelcomed wife. ‘Don’t keep him waiting. He is your prize, don’t let him slip away..’ Smirking with amusement, Arthur Vincent urged his unenthusiastic granddaughter across the hallway towards the main hall. The instant you entered the large, lavishly furnished room, your eyes met with shimmering blue eyes and you knew that Steve had heard your grandfather’s jibe. Steve was wearing a black suit a white shirt that made him look daunting like a scary bodyguard. You had never seen him in a three-piece suit, he looked like he was attending a funeral. And obviously, because of the nervous energy pent up in you, you stumbled on your own feet and accidentally crashed into the table present nearby. You felt like a baby deer. ‘I am so sorry,’ you muttered steadying the stationary table frantically. Steve had noticed that before; you said sorry even when you didn’t do anything wrong. He was studying you. In true Vincent style, you had not grown up but out and you barely reached the top of his chest, you were small and chubby. You wore plain clothing like an old lady, a black trouser that was obviously too long for you.., a loose greyish t-shirt. It was impossible to tell what was beneath the layers of drab fabric. Vincent was an old vicious bastard, he had spelled out the grim reality that his granddaughter was in love and eager to marry Steve. ‘Why are you staring?’ You asked tautly. ‘I never took the time to look at you before.’ Steve continued to observe you with creepy concentration. You were going to be his wife. He continued to mentally score your attributes. Shiny blackish brown. Dewy skin another plus in his book. Eyes that were soft and full of sadness. Steve saw the tears shining in your strained gaze. He had seen more than he wanted to see and he was angry with you for having so little confidence.

What did she have to be unhappy about? The lack of romantic gesture? What more could she ask from him? Wasn’t she getting the husband she wanted? Hadn’t Arthur Vincent effectively bought her husband for her? Steve thought to himself. That humiliating thought pierced through his heart like a poisoned arrow.

You were trembling. His hard self-assurance took you aback, you had assumed that the situation would bring down the barriers between them. ‘I didn’t want this…if there was any other way…’ Your nervous rant ran out of steam.

Steve was irked…his dumb handsome face had a cryptic look, he was not impressed by your claim. ‘But there isn’t. We should talk about our upcoming wedding, terms...’

‘What terms?’ you asked, lifting your long lashes.

‘Well this is an arranged marriage and we’re practically strangers. It will work better if we are honest with each other.’

You breathed in deeply. ‘Can’t we be friends?’

Lawyers from both sides were trying to drum up an agreement, on top of that his distressed mother and his guilt-ridden father were trying to come to terms with this new relationship that was forced upon him, your question struck. He thought that you were stupid. ‘Friends don’t marry and have children. I want to..no scratch that I need to know what you expect from me as your husband.’

You felt awkward at the mention of children.

‘I know that I’m not the wife you wanted. We will learn to manage as we go along.’

‘That is gonna be chaotic Y/N’

He reached for your hand. ‘I have a ring…it is my grandmother’s. If you don’t like it, we can always get a ring of your choice.' Showing you the ring he brought with him. ‘It’s perfect...’ you replied and nodded giving him your permission to slide the ring onto your finger. He slid the diamond ring on your finger. His gesture surprised you.

‘I wasn’t expecting this…’ you mumbled

Steve smiled tightly. What you didn’t know was Steve did not want to get an engagement ring for the sham of the marriage he was forced to be a part of, his mother, Sarah, had persuaded him to bring her mother’s ring. Sarah was concerned about whether you will like the ring or not.

‘Thank you…’ you said sincerely, you were hopeful about your marriage seeing Steve’s effort in something that was forced on both of you.

Steve was uncomfortable by the level of your enthusiasm. But then again Steve thought that it was because you loved him.

‘Cherry…’ Steve breathed with uncharacteristic awkwardness. ‘Can I call you that?’

‘Yes..yes you can….’you replied with hesitance, you hated your nickname, you wanted him to call you by your name but he still took the first step so you can bear the nickname.

‘I will try to be the best wife…’ you replied while twisting the ring around your finger.

Steve almost groaned out loud. He knew you wanted to hear him say the same thing but he could not lie to you. He didn’t want to marry you. Nor did he want a baby in this marriage.

Tags-

@austynparksandpizza

#steve rogers angst #steve rogers au #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader

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javierpenaspinkshirt · 4 years

Text

A Hundred Questions.

Mando x Reader - One Shot

Warnings: it’s fluffy and it’s soft and it’s a lil bit sweet. Loose Star Wars lore. Brief mentions of death. Dodgy formatting.

Words: 5.2k (woah, right?)

Summary: Mando is a touch starved man who just wants to be loved send tweet.

A/N: I wrote this while I was meant to be writing several reports for work so if you enjoy this soft rambling lmk so I can tell my boss I didn’t waste my whole day.

A Hundred Questions

It had been 6 months, you worked out, since you had met the Mandalorian.

He had landed on Jakku for supplies, knowing it was on an old trade route but also knowing it was only a mere few years on from the battle that had finally seen the Empire fall. He had assumed it would be largely empty and fairly quiet and he was right.

Mando had docked the Razor Crest in one of the bays you were overseeing that day. You’d had to stop your jaw dropping when you had seen him walking down the ramp of his ship towards you. You had seen a lot in your life, but never a Mandalorian. He had sauntered over to you and tipped a few credits into your hand.

‘I need some rewiring done’ his voice was gruff and tired, ‘will this be enough to get it done before I return?’

You looked at the credits in your hand, it was more cash than you had seen in years.

‘Absolutely’ you replied, ‘I’ll have her like new in no time’.

He nodded and walked passed you to leave. You turned to watch him go only to see what looked like a large green ear sticking out of the backpack the Mandalorian was wearing. You knew Mandos were often bounty hunters so you thought nothing more of it, only that it was none of your business.

You did your job and fixed up the ship as best you could. Your dad had been a mechanic before the war. He’d taught you everything he knew and though you had groaned and whined at the time, you were so grateful to him now. You had lost both of your parents and your siblings in the Battle of Jakku a few years ago. You had only survived because you had been underground working in the mines as the battle had begun. You and your fellow miners had hidden and waited out the siege. Eventually you had resurfaced to learn that the battle had been won by the Republic, but the fighting continued on for months until the last Imp dropped.

Mercifully you had survived the onslaught, but not everyone in your company had had your luck. Though you used the term ‘luck’ loosely.

The Imperial forces had arrived on Jakku months before the battle ensued, and in that time they had terrorised the locals. Your existence was an insult to them and they would assault and even kill residents simply for being there. But when the the last one finally dropped you couldn’t bring yourself to celebrate. You were on your own, and you had to get off this planet.

You had spent years working as a mechanic in one of the few lasting ship ports and had saved as much money as you could. You were hoping to be able to afford a small ship just to be able to get the hell away from Jakku and find somewhere, anywhere, else to be.

So when the Mandalorian returned from his trip for supplies you figured you would try and rinse him for a few extra credits. Every little helps, right?

He was walking with purpose towards you and the Crest, bag stuffed full of supplies and a tiny green child, like nothing you had ever seen before, waddling behind him.

‘Is it done?’ He asked, stopping to stand beside you and admire your handy work.

‘Yeah all done no problem, but I’m going to have to charge you for parts’ you wiped your hands on your overalls and put your hands on your hips to look up at him, hoping it made you look important and serious.

‘I’m not paying for anything extra’ the helmet turned to look down at you, ‘I asked for wiring, nothing more’.

His voice was low and gravelly. It made your stomach flip and you lost your cool.

‘Hey you asked me to fix what I could and I did, this thing is gonna fly better than it did when it was built, mate! I need the money for parts!’

‘Absolutely not’ was the only response you received before he bent down to scoop up the strange green child who was cooing at his feet, and began to walk aboard the ship.

‘Wait!’ You called, running up the gang plank to catch him ‘please! Please I need this, please! You don’t understand’ the desperation caught in your throat as you ran passed him and stood in front of him to stop him walking up any further.

‘Please’ you lowered your voice and looked around to make sure none of the other mechanics, or god forbid the boss, could hear you pleading, ‘please, I have to get out of here, I need the money’.

You couldn’t see his eyes, but you knew the Mandalorian was staring you down, making a judgment of you and deciding whether you were worth his time.

‘What are you like with kids?’

Your eyes widened, ‘excuse me?’

He held the little green child close to his chest and looked down at him. The baby cooed at him and made a little grabby motion at the helmet.

‘Can you look after a child?’

The truth was you’d never met a child you liked. You had had several siblings before the war and as the oldest you had often been stuck babysitting, and rather than hone any kind of parental instinct you may have had it had dragged it behind the barn and shot it dead. You adored your siblings of course, and you missed them endlessly, but you would rather have been their sibling than their surrogate parent. Children were your nightmare, but if the small green boy was your ticket out of here… Then you guessed you were going to have to learn to like him.

‘I can’ you agreed, ‘but I’m not a glorified babysitter y’know, I’m a mechanic and a damn good one!’

‘I know, you would be a valuable crew mate. I don’t need a babysitter, I need a mechanic and someone I can trust around the child’, his helmet dropped to look at the baby again. If you could have seen his face you would’ve seen the smile spread across it as he looked down at his little foundling.

‘Trust is very important to me’ you explained, ‘I promise I wont let you down’.

The Mandalorian straightened and sighed, ‘go grab whatever you need and meet me back here in an hour. If you’re not here, I will leave without you’.

Your eyes widened and you darted off the ship calling out behind you that you’d be back soon.

That had been 6 months ago. Since then you had been travelling with Mando and the little boy and it was the freest you had ever felt. You’d fallen into comfortable routine with your time split between him piloting and securing jobs and you maintaining the old ship, keeping her flying and keeping her safe. You shared taking care of the child and, despite your initial reservation, you had fallen in love with the little creature. He was different to human children, he needed more supervision than care and was capable of moving himself around the ship with alarming speed. He’d often sit beside you, fiddling with bolts or some of your tools while you fixed things and he’d watch with those big inquisitive eyes as you grumbled about the mess the wiring was in or rambled on with stories of your childhood. He made you miss your siblings but you pushed those painful feelings aside whenever they arose, instead choosing to tell the little one stories of happy times with your family, especially your dad. He would smile and cock his head as you spoke to him.

Occasionally Mando would listen from the cockpit if you were close enough for him to hear. You never really spoke to him about your family… but that was largely because he didn’t ask. Usually you’d sit with him of an evening once the child was asleep. He’d be in the pilot’s seat and you would sit behind him and ask him a hundred mindless questions. Sometimes he’d answer, sometimes he’d just grunt, but he enjoyed the way your mind worked. He had explained to you early on about the rules about his helmet and he had been relieved when you had immediately respected them. You would make the occasional joke,

‘Bet you’re a gungan under there’ you’d smirk.

Like he hadn’t heard that one before. But he didn’t mind because it was you. You would ask him about his armour, about the creed, you’d even once asked about his family. He’d revealed that he was a foundling but nothing more. You had got the hint and stopped your questioning.

This evening was no different. Mando had secured a job on some outer rim planet you’d never even heard of and you were only an hour or so away from landing. The child had nodded off so you’d left him in the cot in the hull where the two of you usually slept, leaving the door open so you could hear if he stirred from the cockpit.

You resumed your usual position in the co-pilot’s chair and started your usual barrage of questions. Mando grunted at most of them and answered a few.

‘So tell me then, Mandalorian’ you crooned ‘when was the last time you took the helmet off?’

‘This morning’ was the typically blunt answer.

‘Okay but when?’

He spun round in his chair to look at you, beskar glinting, ‘this morning when you were feeding the child’.

‘I’m gonna have to get sneakier if I’m going to ever catch a glimpse of you aren’t I?’ you chuckled.

He let out a gentle exhale. He knew you were joking, he trusted you never to look as you promised you wouldn’t. But he still felt a well of anxiety when you’d joke.

You sensed you’d gone too far and backtracked, ‘sorry I shouldn’t have said that, I was only playing. I would never, Mando. I promise, I owe you my life I’m not going to be the one to ruin yours’.

He cocked his head to the left gently and you hoped it was because he was smiling.

The truth was you hadn’t ruined his life. You’d turned it upside down a little but he didn’t mind. After the events of the last year, protecting the child, having to go on the run, having to face down Moff Gideon and almost dying… being out here with you and his foundling was the escape he craved. He had mentioned Cara to you briefly but he offered no detail as to the origin of the child or any stories about what had lead him to arrive on Jakku and meet you.

He wasn’t ready to talk about it yet and he knew you understood. Though you could question him for hours about all sorts of inane crap, you were good at taking no for an answer.

But the one thing you would bring up consistently was his helmet. He knew you were curious. You wanted to know who the man under the Beskar was and he understood that. He got to look at you all day, see the way you smiled at the child or the way your brow furrowed when you were thinking. He got to see your body, clothed of course, but he got to see the way your hips swayed when you walked or the way the muscles in your arms worked when you were lying down trying to fix something on the ship. You hadn’t even seen the colour of his skin.

He wanted to show you more of him. He had slowly and cautiously admitted feelings for you to himself but he wasn’t ready to admit them to you yet. In the last month or so he had started putting his forehead against yours, especially before he went to bed. You would get up to go down to the hull to curl up with the baby while he would stay upstairs in the sleeping quarters behind the cockpit. But he’d make a point of gently pulling you to him and putting his forehead against yours for just a moment. You never questioned it but he could feel the way your body would tense when he held your arms and then relax as he gently tapped the helmet against you. He didn’t think you knew what this gesture meant and he wasn’t going to explain it. But he hoped you were getting the hint without him having to say anything.

He was still looking at you, waiting for your next question of the night when there was an almighty thump and the ship shuddered violently. Without thought or hesitation you were out of your seat and down the ladder into the hull. The little one had woken up at the jolt and squealed as you scooped him up and ran back up to the cockpit.

Another clang and all the lights bar the dashboard control and the dodgy LED emergency lighting went out. The cockpit was dark save for the blue lights of the dashboard and the child squealed again and clung to your clothes. You sat down in the co-pilot chair and hung for dear life, holding the child as tightly as you dared.

‘Hold on’ Mando commanded as he threw the ship around, dodging what you could now see were meteors and space junk flying at the Crest at alarming speed. The planet you were headed towards was well in view now and you hoped to gods that Mando could get you there without doing too much more damage to the ship.

A few more minor knocks and a few hisses from the engines and Mando managed to land on a baron plain, covered with what must be ash, with no sign of a moon or sun and a dark cloud swelling.

‘This… is where the job is?’ You looked out of the window, holding the child up so he could see where his father had almost crash landed you.

‘Yes. Sorry I shouldn’t have taken my eye off the controls… the meteors knocked the lights and the heat out’ He flicked a few switches but to no avail and slumped back in his chair.

‘Can you fix it?’ He turned the chair to look at you.

‘I can but not until morning, its dark and I wont be able to see properly even with a flashlight. I’d have to go outside to see the damage but if I’m honest I don’t really wanna do that tonight… even with you standing guard’.

Mando agreed and stood up, ‘it’s going to be too cold for you and the kid in the hull tonight, you’ll have to stay in my quarters’.

A lump caught in your throat, ‘with you?’ You hadn’t meant for it to sound quite as eager as it did but it was out there now.

‘No’ was the matter of fact reply, ‘I’ll be here, I can sleep in the chair.’

‘No way, Mando, if you’re going on a job tomorrow you need to sleep, you can have the child in your room, I’ll stay here’ you stood up to make a point.

He sighed. The baby whimpered gently, he was cold. You held him close and wrapped him in the cloak you were wearing. It used to be an old cape Mando wore but it had been ripped and was way too short for him. You adopted it and patched it up and proudly wore it everywhere, it was your little piece of him. Now you used it to wrap the little one tightly to try and warm him.

The temperature outside was freezing and without the heat in the ship you would all be feeling the cold in no time.

Mando finally stirred, ‘I have an idea.’

You looked at him as he sunk down on to his haunches in front of you. He took hold of the loose end of the cape you were holding the baby in and took a knife from his boot. He cut a small length from the cape and held it out to you.

‘Take this. Go into my room, get the baby settled and get yourself comfortable. Then put this over your eyes and call for me’ he was so matter of fact about it that you didn’t question it, just did as you were told.

You had never actually been in Mando’s sleeping quarters before. It was a small room, no kind of decoration or homely nature to it, classic Mando. There was a single cot in the corner against the wall that you assumed he would make you sleep on, you knew him well enough not to fight him on that. You put the baby down on the floor, still wrapped in your cloak. His eyes were drooping and he was gently cooing to himself.

‘Getting sleepy, little one? You can sleep here, I’ll get you your blankets and we’ll make you a nice bed, yeah?’ You spoke to him softly and he lifted his little hand to you. You took his hand and gave it gentle kiss before zipping down to the hull to grab the blankets the two of you usually shared. It was freezing in the hull and you were grateful to Mando for insisting you slept in his room.

You went back to his quarters and swaddled the baby tightly. You put him on the floor at the foot of the cot so you could still hear him if he woke up but wouldn’t squish him or accidentally kick him out of the small bed in your sleep. He drifted off as you were positioning him comfortably, you thanked your stars.

You had grabbed a long tunic from the hull and changed into that, discarding your clothes and boots on the floor. You felt the cold and dived under the thin covers on the cot and put the makeshift blindfold over your eyes.

‘I’ve got the blindfold on’ you called, a slightly inappropriate thought raced to the front of your mind but you shoved it back before any damage was done.

You heard the door open and close and the gentle thud of Mando’s boots on the floor. The room was completely dark save for one small port hole on the far wall. You probably didn’t even need the blindfold, you couldn’t have seen him anyway! But you knew the blindfold helped his peace of mind.

You sat in the bed as you listened to the delicate, dull thuds of pieces of beskar being removed. You tried to guess what was what by the weight of the thud but you gave up after the third piece. Finally the quite clanging stopped and a heavy silence hung in the air.

‘You promise me you wont take that blindfold off?’ His voice was still modulated, the helmet still on.

‘I promise’.

There was a gentle hiss and a click and a quite thunk as he put the helmet down on the floor. You heard him move closer to you then drop what you guessed were blankets on the floor. You could hear him shuffling around, laying one blanket on the floor then covering himself with the other. He was still at last.

‘Good night, Mando’ you whispered into the blackness.

No response but an un-gloved hand reached up from his makeshift bed on the floor and gently squeezed yours.

Your whole body tingled. You couldn’t see him, or anything at all for that matter, but that was the first skin to skin contact you had ever had with your usually beskar-clad hero. You placed your other hand on top of his and squeezed back. That was enough for him and he removed his hand and you heard him wriggle a little until he was silent again.

What you didn’t know was that his heart was racing. He hadn’t felt the touch of another person for longer than he cared to count and it was all the more wild that it was you he had finally been able to touch.

But the memory of the last time he had had his helmet removed haunted him and clouded the joy he so wanted to feel. The flashbacks came occasionally; the explosion, the ringing in his ears and the blood. He’d had to tell Cara to take the child and to run for their lives. He had laid there in the rubble and dust, smoke filling the air and a droid, that would later go on to sacrifice itself for him, standing over him reasoning as to why it should take his helmet off.

In the end he had relented and allowed it to and IG had saved his life. But the trauma of the whole ordeal was still too fresh to ignore and lying on the cold floor of his room, completely exposed without any of his armour was almost too much to bear.

He wanted to sit up and slide himself into bed next to you and hold you, if for nothing more than comfort. He’d been alone for so long and suddenly he had a foundling, a family of friends, and a crew mate he wished was more than just crew. It was a lot to take in but you were pretty good at calming his nerves when he needed it. There had been a few instances when bounties had proven to be tougher than expected but you had always been there waiting for him to return, somehow knowing all the right things to say but you had never dared reach out and touch him, fearing it would offend or upset him. Really it was what he wanted most.

Sensing the restless body on the floor beside you you attempted to reach out and feel where he was. Your icy cold hand made contact with his bare shoulder and he hissed and shot away from you.

‘Shit sorry I didn’t realise you were so close!’ You whispered, trying your best not to laugh but a small snort escaped you and you clasped your hand over your mouth to prevent another.

‘What are you? Part Trandoshan? You must be cold blooded!’ his response was sharp but there was humour in it.

‘Trandoshan? Tall, fearsome, not a fan of Wookiees? You got me’ you giggled quietly again but stopped abruptly when you realised that was the first time you had ever heard his voice un-modulated.

You could hear him breathing slightly heavily from the shock and you took in every breath not knowing whether you would ever hear it without the helmet again.

He settled back down and calmed himself. The shock of the freezing hand on his arm had shaken him from his rapid thoughts of lava tunnels and enemy fire and left his heart racing again.

‘Are you really that cold?’ He whispered up at you.

You nodded but realised he couldn’t see you and rolled over so you were on your front looking down at him, ‘I’m from a desert planet, I don’t do cold! But I’ll be fine once I’m asleep’.

Mando formulated a plan but first he quietly sat up to look at the foot of the bed. He moved to his hands and knees silently and knelt down as he touched his hand to the child’s sleeping forehead. He felt warm enough, safely enveloped in the blankets you had wrapped him in and happily snoring in deep sleep. Mando smiled to himself.

Then, before you could ask a question or protest, Mando pushed you over to the edge of the cot and against the wall. His hands were warm as he gently scooted you over and awkwardly fumbled with the covers as he got in beside you. He was trying to be as quiet as possible but the bed frame creaked, only used to having to support one body.

‘You’ll wake the kid!’ You hissed.

He shushed you and flipped you so that your back was against his torso. He slipped an arm under your neck and draped the other over your ribs and pulled you tight against him. He reached up with the arm under your neck and gently checked the blindfold was still in place.

You smiled at his abundance of caution ‘it’s still there’, you reassured him ‘not that I could see you without it anyway, it’s so dark’.

He huffed gently and put his arm back down and held you close to him.

He was bare chest but radiating heat like a small thermal oscillator. You sunk into him not wanting to cause too much of a fuss in case you put him off and he went back to the floor. But you desperately wanted him to talk to you. You wanted to hear his voice and see what he sounded like when he laughed and you desperately wanted to know what he looked like. You knew you couldn’t see him and you wouldn’t ask to, but maybe you could feel him?

You began to wriggle as slowly as possible to avoid the bed squeaking too much and rolled yourself over so that you were lying on your other side, face to face with Mando. You made sure the blindfold was in place and put your hands down in the small gap between your bodies so as not to touch him with them and startle him with the cold again.

He still had an arm under your neck and the other now gently traced circles on your back.

‘Mando?’ you began.

He grunted back at you and you had to stifle another laugh. Even in the most intimate moment you’d ever shared his immediate response was to grunt at you.

‘Mando… can I touch you? Is that allowed?’

His breathing hitched and you felt him shift ever so slightly and you feared you’d done exactly what you were afraid of and crossed a line.

He moved his arm from your back and took your hands in his. His one hand was big enough to envelop both of yours and you had to smother another inappropriate thought before it blossomed.

‘Not until these are warmer’ he whispered giving your hands a squeeze.

You beamed at him and you hoped he could see you even just a little bit to know how happy you were at the possibility of actually being allowed to touch your Mandalorian’s skin.

He couldn’t see you, but your faces were close enough that he could feel the way you sucked in air in an excited gasp as he said it and he was sure you were smiling at him.

He carefully brought your hands up to his chest and rested them there, letting go and returning his hand to your back and pulling you closer still so that your bodies were touching, his chin resting carefully on the crown of your head.

You spent a few moments just taking in everything you could about him. His skin was soft but scarred. You traced scars and old wounds across his back and his chest. His shoulders were tough and knotted, muscular but tired from carrying the weight of the beskar pauldrons every day since he was little. Every scar told a story and maybe one day you’d be allowed to see them, not just feel them, and you’d be able to ask a hundred questions about how and where… but for now you just gently dipped your fingers into every mark that made him who he was.

You moved up to his neck and felt his heart rate racing as your hands edged closer to his face. You stopped just below his jaw and shifted your head up to look at him. As was normal to you now, you couldn’t see his eyes so you just stared where you hoped they were.

He gave you a timid nod and you breathed in hard as you slowly moved your hands up to his jawline. There was stubble, maybe a few days worth. You wondered if he shaved often? His jawline was sharp and defined, you had imagined it as such. You gently moved your fingers along it, taking in every dip of his mandible that indicated an old injury, every mark you could feel that could have once been a wound, and enjoyed the knowledge that even a proud warrior couldn’t always be bothered to shave.

You left one hand at his jaw and moved the other up his cheek, stroking it gently with your thumb, and moved across to his nose. It was pronounced but fitted the shape of his face beautifully. You would have to imagine how striking his side profile must be. There was a scar across it and little ridge at the bridge that suggested that maybe it had been broken once. You weren’t going to ask now.

You carefully traced a thumb over his closed eye, his eyelashes long and his eyebrows unkempt but not wild – a little like him maybe. You moved up his forehead, more scars and bruising, you wondered exactly how much good that helmet did him. Finally you found his hair and you ran your hand through it and pulled ever so slightly. It was longer than you imagined but not so long that he didn’t care for it. The fact it was at the length it was meant he must cut his own hair, that was enough to pull a smile out of you.

He felt you smile against him and he winced slightly, afraid you were laughing at his messy hair or his bruised face. You rubbed your other hand against his jaw.

‘What colour is you hair?’ The question was tentative, walking on thin ice and unsure how far was too far.

‘Brown’ he whispered, the bass in his voice making your soul leap a little.

You moved your hand back down to his eyelid, ‘and these?’

‘Also brown’ the whisper was even quieter now.

‘Mando, I think you’re beautiful’ you said it as sincerely as you could. You meant it.

He didn’t respond, just lay there still as anything, holding you against him.

You rested your palm on his cheek, feeling the stubble under it as he moved his head to look down at you. He put his forehead against yours as delicately as he could.

You could have stayed there for a hundred years. Wrapped in his arms, his forehead pressed to yours, feeling his breathing slow as his heart rate settled, his skin against yours.

But he moved, and you were afraid that was the end until he took his hand from your back and used it to tilt your chin up towards his face.

You felt his lips against yours and it was like an explosion had been let off inside you. It was tentative and cautious but he held your chin firm, not wanting you to move away from him. His lips were soft, a little chapped, but so undeniably him. Firm but inviting, hesitant but wanting.

He moved his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, being careful not to knock the blindfold and broke the kiss. He put his forehead back against yours and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

You put your hands back on his chest and lay still with him. He would kiss you again but he would need a minute first. And that was fine by you. This was unchartered territory for him and you would give him as long as he needed. There would be time for a hundred questions later.

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chaoticevilbean · 3 years

Text

Voltron Humans are Weird 6/?

The Paladins had once again won an intense battle. It had been on the planet Cygoth, which was home to a group of humanoids. The Cygi, as they were called, had skin in shades of pale pinks and purples and blues. Their heads were like those of bald humans, but with upside down ears and eyes like felines. Instead of five fingers and five toes, the Cygi had four fingers and six toes, to aid them in their strange environment, along with bug-like wings that hid under hard green and yellow shells.

Said environment was one with 'extreme weather conditions' and 'toxic' rain. The Cygi lived in caves that were on a large cliffside. Since the elements often got within the rocks and all the animals were terrestrial and highly territorial, the aliens would hang upside down and crawl across the ceilings like spiders. They also collected rare minerals that grew down to build their homes and helped them grow food in their strange way of living.

It was these minerals that the Galra wanted. Stronger than 98.97% of all other metals or rocks, they could be used to create impenetrable ships and armor. The Cygi had called Voltron to Cygoth to aid them in protecting their resources and freedom. After they had succeeded, and it became clear that the team only wanted to help, no reward necessary, the leader of the Cygi offered an alliance. New armor and some upgrades for the Paladins and Castle, an increased amount of trade for the aliens, and a plethora of allies for both because of their union.

The talks were boring, and the four younger Paladins found themselves quickly becoming inattentive. Lance got them excused and Pidge ran straight to the edge of the central cave, ignoring how the Cygi were suddenly watching them keenly. It was likely to avoid the Terrans getting attacked by the fauna or killed by the 'toxic' rain that was cascading down just outside. A device was pulled from the depths of the Green Paladin's armor to scan the substance pouring from the atmosphere, and they all peered over the girl's shoulder tensely.

The screen lit up in green.

"HECK YEAH!" Keith shouted, his voice echoing loudly against the stone walls. "Nontoxic!"

"C'mon, Paladudes!" Lance waved his hand at the others in a beckoning motion. "It's time to explore this world and turn Shiro's hair whiter than before!"

The kids dashed forward towards the more organic part of the planet's surface, but paused and turned at the sound of buzzing.

A large group of Cygi were heading straight for the humans, frantic expressions and furiously beating wings drawing the Paladins' attention. It seemed that the team's newest allies were more knowledgeable about their intentions, and were attempting to avoid what they assumed was a dangerous situation.

The teens were not about to let that happen.

"BREAK FOR IT!" Hunk screamed, and there was no way that Shiro and Allura didn't hear that. They only had a few minutes before they would be caught in their escape. The humans dashed for the entrance, and Keith was definitely gonna make it. Pidge wasn't, and Hunk was a coin toss, so Lance took action. The self-sacrificing idiot.

The Blue Paladin grabbed his smaller friend and threw her at his bro.

"CATCH!" The cook caught the child easily, still sprinting to freedom. But the action left Lance behind the herd and much closer to the Cygi. It became obvious how close when his feet left the ground.

"What the flippity floppity flapjack‽ WOAH!" The flying aliens were swift to bring the Terran over to the suspended platform where Shiro, Allura, and all the diplomats were staring down from. It was from there that the kids had originally climbed down the rungs of the strange ladder to get to the floor. "Ah, you lily-livered sons of witches! You snackers! Oh, tick-tack snick-snack frick-frack paddlywack! My father will hear about this, you barnacle-covered Caprisun knock-offs! I'll steal your kneecaps and eat your curtains! You moldy walnuts!" He continued spouting off insults as he was carried over to his leaders, smiling slightly at the look of exasperation on Shiro's face. His words stopped the moment his feet hit the mioxite platform, smile growing exponentially.

"Lance, what were you guys doing?" The older man didn't let Allura speak, taking over the conversation immediately.

"The rain isn't toxic for us, so we were gonna explore. I gotta join the others soon."

"No, you don't gotta."

"I do gotta."

"Why?"

"You want Keith and Pidge alone in unknown territory with just Hunk as their voice of reason?"

"You definitely gotta."

"Shiro, Lance, what is going on?" Allura finally managed to interject. The humans turned towards the Altean, both confused. Lance had just said that he and the others were going to explore Cygoth.

"What d'you mean, princess?"

"What code was Lance speaking?"

"Code? What co- oh." The Black Paladin's face lit up in realization. "She meant the curses. Lance, explain."

"I was cussing without swear words."

"What?"

"I was spouting profanities without ever using actual words that are considered profane. For instance." The boy faced his fellow Terran once more. "Let me strawberries and cream go before I rocky road your face, you useless paperclip."

"Where's that from?"

"Ice cream flavors with the classic inanimate objects with no function. From Tumblr."

"What is ice cream? Is it more... omnivore things?" Allura seemed to be scared she might have to hear more about the meat-eating habits of humans.

"Nah, don't worry, princess," Lance assured her. "Ice cream is a chilled treat back home. We found out that there's many animals we can safely farm for their milk. When done correctly, it doesn't harm the animals, and we can process the milk for consumption. Process the milk properly, and then you can get ice cream. It comes in many flavors."

"Such as?"

"Strawberries and cream, and rocky road, to name some."

"Are any of those poisonous?"

"I think lactose might be, which is in a good portion of milk, and some nuts are, and definitely chocolate. So, to animals, yeah, most ice cream is toxic, but not always enough to do more than a stomachache."

"Princess, I can take over explaining, but Lance has to go make sure none of the others get into trouble."

The Blue Paladin took that as his cue to leave, climbing down the ladder once more and bolting back to the entrance. In moments, he had disappeared from view, joining his fellow humans outside the caves. Shiro watched him go, internally wishing he could join them.

But they had once again caused a situation that needed explaining, and Lance was needed to prevent an actual disaster from happening, so Shiro had to do damage control solo this time. That's what he got for letting four teenagers kidnap him back into space.

If a human seems to be speaking in code, yet other humans seem to understand them, even on a basic level, ask if they are speaking in 'slang'. This is a Terran term that encompasses many variations of speaking. Much like the difference in linguistics between Blue and Green Zithians, humans will likely have very different slang depending on where they spent their time. A place called Tumbler often fosters a more complex version, whereas Insta Gram has a simpler code.

Humans might invent their own slang in order to packbond properly with one another. Two groups of Terrans hailing from the same locations may have entirely different lexicons due to the change that each team may make. Some individuals may even know more than two versions of slang, in order to establish better relations with their fellow humans. There is very little evidence of what requirements are needed to include learning more than one variation of slang. An example of this would best be shown by the following interaction:

Terran Blue, addressing Terran Yellow: Then he just yeeted it at me, as though I was gonna sit there like a soggy popsicle.

Terran Yellow, responding: That doesn't explain why you turned him into an ice cube.

Terran Green, addressing Terran Blue: "Blue", what was the 411 on those rocket launchers?

Terran Blue, responding: The main man blew a gasket. Didn't make it far, but managed to nab a couple of the suckers.

Terran Yellow, addressing Terran Green: You throw a glitter bomb down the chutes and I'll cop all the cookies.

Terran Green, responding: Do it and you'll lose your kneecaps.

In the above interaction, it was explained that Terran Blue and Terran Yellow were discussing an instance where an object was hurled towards Terran Blue's head. He dodged the object and used a weapon to freeze his opponent in a section of ice. Terran Green was inquiring about a mission and the weapons that were supposed to be gained if it succeeded. Terran Blue informed of the partial success they achieved, after which Terran Yellow warned Terran Green to not perform certain playful acts. Terran Green responded with a more intimidating warning.

However, as seen, there were many different instances of slang usage. All three of the humans used at least two versions, yet they all hold very different positions. Terran Green is a scientist, Terran Yellow is (assumed to be) a chef, and Terran Blue is (assumed to be) a diplomat. Their needs for their positions are greatly varied, leading to confusion as to the education of humans.

In all events of slang use, please proceed with great caution. A greater percentage of this subject is unknown than the previous logs. Refrain from attempting the replication of slang unless the code has been explained to you by a Terran. Humans have not shown much aggression yet, but they may do so if provoked on an emotional level.

#voltron #vld #lance #keith #shiro #pidge #hunk #allura #oneshots #voltron oneshots

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imaginedhaven · 4 years

Text

Reluctantly Rooming: Part Three

Link to Masterpost

This has been so much fun, and it’s just going to keep going! As always, I am accepting prompts for this in my ask box.

This addition to the series uses two prompts:

“The salad here is really good.” / “Do I look like a fucking rabbit?”

and

“Why’d you hug him? You love him?”

Enjoy!

~*~*~

Aelin grinned and sauntered over to her newest customer a few minutes into her shift. “Good evening,” she purred. “What brings you in tonight?”

Green eyes met hers, completely unamused at her antics. “Considering that you insisted I come in, I think you know very well why I’m here,” Rowan replied.

It was completely true, of course. The previous Sunday, Rowan had kept to his word and helped Aelin get her flat tire fixed. He had also immediately taken her to the nearest grocery store and carefully watched her select fruits and vegetables like a hawk eyeing its prey. Once they had gotten home he had immediately flown into a flurry of meal preparation, and soon Aelin’s entire half of the fridge was full of little glass containers of portioned snacks and meals while Aelin’s roommate was glaring from the counter.

She had mocked him for it endlessly, of course, but truth be told she was immensely grateful. And so she had insisted that he pick a night to come out to the bar, so she could get him a free meal and a drink in thanks. He had picked Friday, and now he was here in the place she spent so much of her week. When they had first started rooming together, and even just two weeks ago, it would’ve been strange and she probably would’ve swapped halves of the bar with Lysandra just to avoid him. Now, though, she felt a strange warmth at seeing him so clearly out of his depth for her sake.

“I’m kind of hoping you’ll trust me on the drink, but is there something in particular you want to eat?” she asked.

“You’re the one who works here,” he retorted. “Surely you have a recommendation, seeing how you chose to eat here most nights rather than just admit you can’t cook to save your own life.”

Where that jab would’ve started a real fight just a few weeks ago, now Aelin just gave him her sweetest smile. “The salad here is really good.”

Rowan lifted a single eyebrow. “Do I look like a rabbit to you?”

“Well, since you seem intent on turning me into a rabbit I thought I would offer,” she said, finally bursting into laughter.

Before Rowan could say anything else, a lilting high tenor sounded behind her. “Is there a problem here, Laena?”

Aelin only laughed harder, nearly doubling over as Rowan’s eyes widened. “Oh, don’t be an ass, you know everything’s fine,” she wheezed.

Beside her, a man with dark curls offered a hand to Rowan, who warily shook it. “I’m Sam,” he explained, “bar manager and old college friend.”

Rowan nodded, gaze flicking back over to Aelin. Laena? he mouthed.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “The nickname is short for Celaena. It was the name on my fake license when we met, and he’s never let me forget it. It helps here, sometimes, if someone’s being a little too pushy. Whoever it is walks out of here without my real name, so I let him get away with it.”

Sam chuckled. “I do what I can. But I’ve embarrassed you enough for now, I think.” And without another word he faded into the bustle of the room, where she knew he would be carefully overseeing the crowd.

“Sorry about that,” Aelin said to Rowan. “If I knew he was going to come over and be an ass, I’d have warned you.”

Rowan shook his head, but she could see the faint glimmer of a smile. “It’s good that you have someone looking out for you at work,” he replied.

She smiled back and got to work. Together, they decided on a burger she’d had before for his meal. “Do you trust me?” Aelin asked.

“As much as I feel like I’m going to regret this, go ahead,” he sighed.

Aelin grinned and gathered her ingredients, dropping a single cube of sugar into a glass and soaking it with a mix of bitters. “I’ve been thinking about what I’d serve you for a week,” she began. “I won’t lie, it was tempting to serve you straight amaro and nothing else just to watch your face. But all jokes about bitterness aside, I wasn’t going to actually be that mean.”

“I’m eternally grateful,” Rowan deadpanned.

“You should be,” she laughed, reaching for a muddler and crushing the cube down. “But none of the sweeter drinks seemed like you, either. If I had to guess, in your personal life you don’t mix drinks at all, you just drink your spirits straight.”

The guess earned her a nod. “Even that isn’t often, but when I do, you’re right.”

Aelin nodded as well, dropping a sphere of ice into the glass as well and then reaching for the bottle of rye she’d selected. “So I didn’t want to deviate too much from that and give you a glass that was basically full of sugar, but I wanted to take you just a little outside your comfort zone.” Deftly she added the alcohol to the glass and then began to stir. “That left me with a much shorter list. Spirit forward. Classic pairings. Something even a joyless buzzard like you can appreciate.”

The name had started as an insult, Aelin mused as she reached for an orange and deftly carved a strip of its peel away from the fruit. Now, though, it was… almost an endearment. If friends traded endearments, that was.

Rowan’s eyes widened as she reached for a match, expression turning wary. “What exactly are you doing?” he asked.

Aelin grinned. “Helping you live a little,” she said as she struck the match and held the peel to the flame.

The smell of caramelization and warm orange oil reached her nose soon enough, and she blew out the match and set it aside before gently twisting the peel over the top of the now-completed drink and rested it on the rim of the glass. With a smirk, she slid the glass across the bar and watched as her roommate looked it over. “What is this?”

“If I told you, you’d think I was making fun of you,” she laughed. “So we’ll call it a ‘Trust Me, Rowan’ instead.”

The remark earned her another roll of those pine-green eyes, but he obediently lifted the glass, swirling its contents gently and inhaling delicately. “I wouldn’t have thought scorching the orange peel would change its scent so much,” he remarked.

Aelin grinned. “And that’s why I’m behind the bar and you’re in front of it. Go on, try it.”

As she watched, he carefully lifted the glass to his lips and took a small sip. She bit her lip, doing her best to wait out his reaction as his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Finally he let out a pleased hum, and she could no longer contain her smile. “All right,” he said. “If I admit that I like this, will you tell me what it’s called? Or did you just make it up?”

Aelin tugged on a stray strand of hair as she bit back a laugh. “I didn’t invent this, no,” she said. “It’s been around for a while.”

“And?”

She glanced at him again and finally lost the battle with her mirth, leaning heavily on the bar as she broke into a fit of giggles. “It’s called an old fashioned,” she wheezed as Rowan rolled his eyes and grumbled into his drink.

~*~*~

Rowan left about an hour after that, but Aelin was still laughing about it with Lysandra as they worked to wipe the bar clean after closing. Suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, and she laughed and turned, tossing her rag into Sam’s face. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble today?” she teased.

“Not quite enough yet,” he grinned. “So why’d you hug him? You love him or something?”

Aelin laughed as she remembered back to Rowan leaving the bar. He’d obviously intended to slip away without calling attention to his departure, but she had noticed him and chased him down to give him a giant hug and a smacking kiss on his cheek. He had growled and immediately gone to wipe his face off, tossing her a glare that once would’ve left her shaking in her boots. Now, though, she had simply laughed and told him it was revenge for him trying to sneak away. “No,” she finally said as she turned her attention back to Sam. “No, that’s my roommate. We’re trying out this new thing where we actually get along.”

“Oh, so this is the roommate from hell we’ve been hearing so much about,” Lysandra chimed in. “You didn’t say he was hot.”

“I feel like that wasn’t relevant to what I was telling you,” Aelin pointed out. “Hot people can be jerks just as much as the rest of us.”

“She says as though the three of us aren’t hot,” Sam laughed.

“He’s got a point,” Lysandra agreed, green eyes bright with mirth as well. “But anyway, we’ve got a mess to clean up here. We can sort out Aelin’s future domestic bliss later.”

Aelin scowled as her two friends laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far,” she cautioned them.

“Ah, but if we don’t, who will?” asked Sam.

“You’re assholes and I hate you both,” Aelin said with no heat in her voice.

“Oh, come on, you love us,” Lysandra grinned. “Sam, what can you do about all three of us having the same day off sometime soon?”

“You know I don’t control the schedule,” he sighed, but his brown eyes were glimmering with amusement. “That said, we all have this coming Sunday off. Why, do you have a plan?”

“I’ve always got a plan,” she replied. “But in this case, I suppose I can extend my plans to include the two of you.”

“This is all well and good,” Aelin drawled, “but at least one of us would like to sleep at some point tonight.”

“You just want to get home to that roommate of yours,” Lysandra retorted.

“Oh, would you—”

Aelin’s words cut off with a yelp. She had been turning to face Lysandra, but suddenly her ankle buckled and she hit the floor with a cry and the sound of something cracking.

~*~*~

If anyone has questions about any of the mixology involved in this, I am of course happy to answer to the best of my ability! I don’t do it professionally, but in this quarantine it has become an... extensive and somewhat expensive hobby. Yikes. Lol.

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows

#haven writes #rowaelin #reluctantly rooming

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mydrug-is-dragonage · 3 years

Text

Veda Adaar, Life after Bull

Victory. Triumph. Glory. Pride. What we usually feel when we win a battle. The quiet grief of cutting down lives, regardless of how worthy they are of death, but the warm joy, knowing we saved someone or something or everyone or everything from a grand or small evil.

Victory. We stood on the balcony, crowded together, together again for the first time in years. Thom and Sera, Divine Victoria’s watchful eyes, Cassandra and Varric’s constant disdainful flirting, Cole and Maryden’s quiet affection, Dorian and Vivienne both wine drunk trading insults, the quiet acknowledgement of a friendship that grew against both of their wills. Josephine and Cullen arguing, treating the terrace like battlements, more performative as they both know the end is closer than the beginning. Solas, our own personal god, long-gone into the eluvian. We’re all here, we’re all together. All of us, but Bull.

Triumph. The weeks have passed, a quick and effective rebuke from the Arishok, King Alistair and Empress Celene accept it quietly, no time for war with another battle floating above us in the air. Back at Skyhold, a skeleton crew, these days just Harding and me spend our time in the battle room, staring at maps; Leliana’s other protégés are always off on missions. Sera pops by every now and then to see Dagna with bees and trinkets and little things to remind me that she’s never really gone. The best day, or the worst depending on the audience, Sera and Dagna came up to my room, giggling, presented me with a crossbow for where my arm ought to be. “Widdle’s a wizard, yeah! You’ll be on rooftops sticking it to people too big for their breeches in no time!” I thanked them, and sent them away. This is love, at least for Sera. Her love is violence and showy maneuvers, dancing with both hands and feet shaking about.

Glory. Josephine writes me letters, telling me to eat, to ask Cullen to write back. After a few months, she finally pens, “I know I am no longer your formal ambassador, but as your informal friend I find it painful to admit what has been sung in the inns and halls. Bards have taken your loss and turned it into song. Unlike what Maryden had composed, these are unfortunately mocking in nature. People have taken the final act and written it as the whole narrative, my lady. A play premiered in Val Royeux putting you at the center of the conflict, as the one who allowed it to happen. If you desire, I can put an end to this. Divine Victoria recommended assassins, but I’ve temporarily dispelled her more primal desires. Likewise, Mr. Arainai also reached out, grateful for the assistance you had given him evading the Crows. I similarly told him no. Above all, regardless of what action we take, I want you to know I am sorry. You’ve lost much, suffered more than so many of us. I’m sorry, Veda. I love you.” It wasn’t unexpected, bards sing, playwrights write. They tell the tales people want to hear. Immortalizing betrayal has always turned them into legends.

Pride. A cold morning, one with little to be done, Charter and Rector off in Nevarra, the crows neither coming or going, Lace came into my room, “Sorry to bother you, V, we’ve got a vistor.”

“Avoidable?” I ask.

“What an impossibly rude question, darling.” I looked up from my desk and saw her horns pointing from the stairway.

“Oh, Vivienne, I wasn’t expecting you,” I said. I don’t stop the smile on my face. For all our differences, we’d become like sisters. On her best days, she’d fawn over me like a mother.

“That’s Grand Enchanter now, My Lady Inquisitor.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Lace said, excusing herself. I waited to hear the door close, then the other. Vivienne stood, graceful and stoic as ever. A few more moments of silence, then she broke into a smile. She took off her hat, placed it on the sofa, and walked towards me, arms splayed.

“Oh, my dear, how I’ve missed you!” I stood up, robes draping and hiding me.

I leaned into her hug, resting my head on hers. “Grand Enchanter, really Viv?”

“One must keep appearances, darling. Besides, imagine if Bull heard you call me…” She heard it as it left her mouth. “Oh, my sweet, I’m so sorry. While we should have anticipated his betrayal, I know the loss must weigh on you heavily.” She nestled further into my chest. I breathed out, for a moment just Veda, not the Inquisitor, not the betrayed lover, not the important person forced upon me. I was mortal, Vashoth, tall and strong and being hugged by someone who loved me enough to allow me to be small and weak. We settled onto the couch. I pulled my legs in front of me

“You know better than anyone. I remember, I was there when you lost Bastien.”

“And I was there when you lost the Iron Bull,” she sighed. “We are sisters in grief, as well as sisters in victory. We’re sisters in success, although your’s has had its struggles as of late. I assume the Divine told you of the bards?”

“Josephine.”

“The Nightingale sending a gentler songbird. Wise.”

“I assumed it would happen. Charter brought back the lyrics and playbook from what she considered the more consumable tales,” I said.

“They’re vile, darling. I offered the services of the Circle. The Divine declined. I assumed she had sent assassins.”

“No, I turned down the offers.”

“You’re losing political capital, my dear. If you want to return to the world, recruit who you need to defeat Solas, you’ll need allies. New allies, old allies. It will require quite the force and connections. You know you have the Circle, as much as we can politically sacrifice in this turbulent time,” she said.

“It isn’t the first thing on my mind, at the moment,” I said.

“And why not darling? If you choose to remain in obscurity at some point it will no longer be a choice.”

It’s spring, it is the last night at Skyhold before we leave for the Exalted Council. Cullen and Josephine have been up bickering most the evening, finally put to rest. I settle into my room, sitting at my desk, twiddling my pen. My bag is packed, the horses are ready. The door creaks open. I don’t look up, I can smell him from here. Even after a bath he smells like home, smoky and warm. “Hey, Kadan.”

“Hey,” I say, “they finished?”

“Well, Cullen is now arguing with Cabot which gave me enough time to get the serving girls to feed Josephine. She wanted to get back to bickering, but I asked her if the itinerary had been checked. So I think they’re fine for now.”

“They’re just worried about tomorrow, the coming weeks. It’s normal,” I say,

“You’re the one who grew up with humans. They worry too much, but it makes them easy to work with. Like clay.” I smile and look back down at my papers. “Enough work, Kadan. You can’t do anything more today.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Are you going to make me?” I smirk.

“Oh, is this what we’re doing?”

“Oh you didn’t know?” I laugh. “I thought you knew it all, everything I needed, Ben-Hassrath training, remember?” He smiles and walks towards me, I slide back in my seat and he scoops me up.

In bed, his heart pumps slow and heavy in his chest. I trace his body with my hands, his arm around me. Our horns rub against each other, small grooves from the years of lying here together. “Better?” He asks.

“What do you think?”

“I know. I just want to know if you know.” I lean up and kiss him.

“Yes, better.” He smells better when he’s sweaty. Something about those early days, seeing him tear through crowds, watching his arms lift and push those heavy swords and axes. Long before, when the Chargers still existed, when he wasn’t just my man, but their man.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“I’m sorry, you know,” I say. For a moment, he’s silent, sitting in the grief.

“You made the right choice. You made the only choice. You led like a Qunari.”

“It shouldn’t have been my choice. I should have let you decide,” I say.

“No,” He says, clipped. “You are the Inquisitor. It was your decision, to keep the alliance or lose it. You made history. You stopped a batshit insane darkspawn from destroying the world.”

“I could have stopped him anyway,” I say.

“We don’t know that. The Tamassrans used to say, ‘When there are no right choices, the right decision is the one you make and the one you live with.’” I nestle into his chest.

“I’m happy the Qunari have kept you here.”

“Me too, Kadan.”

“I love you, Bull.” He pulls me closer into him. For a moment, I wonder if he’s crying.

“I don’t want you to be angry, Viv,” I said.

"Oh what now darling? First you go into solitude like a hermit, what’s next?” I put my legs down and pulled my robes back. “What’s this?” She looked, at first with curiosity, then her eyes widened. “Veda, oh Veda, are you?”

My eyes well, “Yeah, Viv. I am.”

She covers her mouth, the first time I’ve seen her truly shocked. “And is it…?” With that question, the tears fall. The heavy sobs wrack my chest and Vivienne crawls towards me, arms draped around my shoulders and I cry into her chest. “Oh darling, of course you’ve been distracted.” She rubs the back of my head, stroking my neck as I calm down. “Should I ask Harding for some tea? Juice? No wine, of course.” I shake my head. “Oh dear. Who all knows?”

I swallow and trap my tears in my chest. “So far you, Leliana, Thom, and Cassandra. Lace knows, and she’s kept questions from Charter and Rector to a minimum.”

“You haven’t told Josephine?”

“How could I? What could I possibly say, ‘Oh yes, enjoy your new career in Antiva! By the way, I’m carrying the betrayer’s child! Send my love to Yves and Yvette!’”

“I don’t think keeping it secret is much wiser, my dear. People will know, especially once the child is here. Do the Qunari know?” She asked.

“As far as Leliana’s sources know, no. Bull was loyal to the end, they had no reason to think he’d do this, especially when it hadn’t happened in the years before.”

“When did this happen?”

“Right before we left for the Exalted Council,” I said.

“Oh.”

“I know,” I said. “He must have known. I can’t decide if this was kindness or cruelty.”

“What’s that line he always said, darling? ‘When it’s a hostile target, you give them what they want. When it’s someone you care about, you give them what they need.’”

The tears well again. My hands slide to swollen belly. “It isn’t what I wanted. I had never even considered it. He was Qunari enough that I knew we’d never have a family.”

She reached a hand towards my belly, “May I?” I sniffed and nodded. She placed her hands on my stomach, on top of my own hands. “If this isn’t what you wanted, then it must have been what he thought you needed.”

“He couldn’t have known we’d win. He fought like he meant it. He struck me with his blade. He wasn’t fighting to lose.” The anger and grief mixed in my throat.

“He wasn’t, he never did, darling. But he knew you. He knew us. He knew you’d bring me and Cassandra. He knew what the Qunari could and couldn’t do. He believed in you, at the end. Just as he had at the beginning, my dear.” I took a hand from my belly and moved it to the outside of my horn, the groove still there from the years spent lying together.

“I’m not planning on bringing my child into the public life. We’ll have a few years, at least, presuming we aren’t all destroyed by Solas,” I said.

“Shh, no reason to worry about that right now, darling. We have today’s troubles and tomorrow’s troubles.” She sat back and blinked away her own tears. “I’ve never been an aunt before. I’ll of course send over a suite of clothes and supplies from Val Royeux.”

I wipe my eyes and smile, “Are you going to be an aunt or a Grandma’am?”

"Oh you miserable louse, how dare you?” She said, the tears finally pouring from her eyes.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #inquisitor #adaar x bull #iron bull #the iron bull #inquisitor x bull #da #dai #fanfic #dragon age adaar #bull x adaar #dragon age vivienne #madam de fer

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groundbreaking-science · 3 years

Text

Section 3-2: Amplification

Warning! The following section contains exercises that may cause exhaustion, fainting, dissociation, abreaction and cardiac arrest. No exercise should be undertaken without explicit permission from a medical practitioner, and mental health support may be required for exercise 3.2.5. The reader proceeds at their own risk.

Prerequisites: Exercises in 1.4, 2.1-5, 3.1. Additionally material from section 1.9 is referenced.

The first time my father sensed the Earth and his place in it, a soft dawn was breaking. He stood shaking and gasping for air atop the world's tallest tower, with a view rivalled only by God above. A thick carpet of cloud rolled out to the horizon far below him, the very real verdant lands of Yahhoi still present and visible in glimpses between breaks, and he felt relief.

He'd spent the night screaming in deepest pain and writhing on the indifferent marble floor. He'd flickered between life and death, battling the effects of a poison he'd chosen against all advice to imbibe. It was said that the poison would draw out the drinker's latent power - should the drinker survive the process. My father, at the still tender age of sixteen, was the fifteenth warrior to try and the very first to breathe in the morning's cool air.

In that new light he felt rather than saw life stirring, and he understood the interconnectedness of his own life with the Universe around him. For the first time he sensed a power through the ki-field: the overwhelming strength and evil intent of King Piccolo. With renewed certainty in his abilities my father set out to face down that evil, and the rest is literal history.

After enduring the poison my father obtained the ability to consciously interact with the ki field. Though he wouldn't learn to amplify his abilities with any measured and focused intent for a while, needing guidance from more divine or experienced sources and more powerful, urgent motivators, every one necessitating the honing of a particular element in efficiency or technique. My father's spiritual awakening was slow-going then, though that is not an insult to his effort - even the Monk among our ragtag band took decades to fully master his unlocked potential, and I know there are towering heights I could yet reach.

It is that endless struggle that ultimately gave me the confidence to include this chapter. My current proficiency and my promise to impart certain skills make the work seem simple, but I know I have reached this level with a genetic advantage and a range of thankfully unique life experiences. Yes, nefarious forces could use this chapter to escalate their havoc by orders of magnitude, but that is a highly unlikely outcome, as I'm sorry to say the majority of readers will never achieve a level of amplification that could cause any material damage. Instead I believed it more pressing to think of those curious individuals compelled to perform the "super" techniques covered in the rest of this chapter and beyond, and these skills require ki amplification to perform safely, if at all. And besides, it would never have been fair to keep from you a skill that is considered an Earthling technique at heart.

So whilst I am no God, nor a questionable feline apothecarist making my home amongst the clouds, I am able to employ more traditional teaching methods to improve your ki output with conscious intent, rather than resorting to cryptic life-and-death experiences. And so, in a more measured way, we begin to tie together many elements you have already explored.

Before we delve back into the ki field, I wish to return to the ki we already possess - genki - and the two elements that contribute to the total energy output: the charge (energy per particle) and the flow rate (particles per second). Increasing one or both of these will increase your total genki power output.

The easiest way to achieve a step-change in power output - although impossible for many - would be to utilising a transformation. Simply growing larger means more cells need to be governed, which requires more parcels of genki to be released. You can think of the size of the centre (and therefore the centre's hypothetical surface area) increasing along with the body. A larger surface area with the same flux (flow per unit area) gives a greater power output.

Namekians are able to physically grow in size and therefore power, as demonstrated by Piccolo (the Junior) at the 23rd Martial Arts tournament. This ability is a learnt skill and under conscious control. Saiyans can also grow to gigantic proportions taking on a more ape-like form as Oozaru. Whilst this is an innate transformation and so more accessible (for Saiyans with tails, at least), it requires the reflected sunlight of a full moon to induce, and the Oozaru form does not naturally have a rational mind. Mastery and use of the form is therefore restrictive.

Earthlings on the other hand aren't known for their strength-inducing transformations; the mysterious Shapeshifting Schools utilise magic and transformations in this manner do not appear to grant a power increase. The innate transformation magic of Giants, Manwolves and similar teratoidal folk does grant an increase in power, and zoomorphic people of larger frames will have a greater genki output than the average anthropoidal person, but anthropoidal Earthlings are not granted either of these advantages (by their very definition).

However, Earthlings of all kinds do have access to one technique that will raise the ki particle flow rate: the Kaioken. Against received wisdom I will detail this technique later, if only to emphasize the dangers of trying to learn this skill away from the healing properties of the Heavenly Realm. The technique involves warping the centre's surface, therefore increasing the surface area but preserving the effective volume, allowing more ki particles through. Performed with too much gusto this technique can tear the body apart cell-by-cell, so for those of us bound to the mortal realm, mastery of this technique could take a lifetime.

There is a trade-off to these size increases, however. The pool of ki particles in your centre depletes far faster when deviating from its natural surface area and size. If all particles are used up, you will be left without a way to draw on ki, and will have to rest for an hour to fully replenish.

A further way to boost power output and to much greater effect is to increase the ki particle's average charge. Again some species have access to physical transformations that can achieve this; Frieza's race being one, where various naturally armoured and therefore lower-energy consumption forms reduce the draw on the centre's ki (both in flow rate and charge), and these forms prevent the individual from overwhelming lower ki energy folk around them.

Saiyans have access to another transformation called "Super Saiyan", one that does not increase the size of the body, but does impact every cell, creating a greater demand for charge per particle on the centre. From the combined research of scientists across the Universe, including my own, we know the transformation requires a level of circulating so-called "S-cells" in the body. In brief (as this transformation will be detailed later), high levels of emotion in the body trigger the S-cells to release a message in ki to all cells, asking them to call for more ki in readiness, in turn triggering the centre to release more ki which manifests as a transformation with recognised stages.

The final way to boost your genki output is to use a different version of genki entirely. The Gods and other non-mortals appear to use their own version of ki that is functionally the same in nearly every way, though God ki is more powerful - the reason for which remains unclear. Curiously, God ki is undetectable by mortals unless they receive specific training. Given how parallel they are, I believe then God and mortal ki to be of different chirality.

Chirality is a concept we find in nature. It is woven into the very structure of our bodies, even. When we look at ourselves in the mirror, our mirror image has the same make-up as us - the same number of blemishes on our face and hairs on our head - but there is no way to spin you around to make you look exactly like your mirror image. You and your mirror twin will always be left-right flipped as "optical isomers" of each other. Similarly, some molecules can have exactly the same chemical formula, but the structure can be left-right flipped. In our bodies, one molecule we ingest can fit snugly into a receptor and work as intended, but the optical isomer will be completely ignored (or worse, cause unpredictable damage in the body).

Mortal and God ki then, with their dyadic relationship, can be thought of as chiral mirror images. Unlike chemical optical isomers however, mortals can learn to accept and use the chiral God ki, but it is not natural and so must be unlocked in some manner and developed.

3.2.1 Raising Yuuki With Kiai

Earthlings are Universally known for their ability to change their ki output without reliable access to transformation or divinely developed techniques. Their wide emotional range and social nature can be repurposed or redirected to drive that increase in power. For an instantaneous boost of genki, we can rely on our yuuki. If you recall section 1.9, yuuki (courage) is not a true form of ki but a mechanism of bolstering the flow rate, and comes from reducing fear to free up "effort" and ki-particles and therefore energy otherwise poised to react in a more animalistic fashion to the stressors before us.

Consider the question - "when we run from a bear, do we run because we're afraid? Or are we afraid because we run?" This truth is a mix of both. Calming the mind can calm the body, yes, but changing our physiological state can also affect very real change in our emotions too, which can in turn free up mental capacity for other purposes. Likewise, amping up the body can amp up the mind and ki in tandem.

In section 2.3 we discussed kiai, the guttural yell. We slowed our breathing, using the inward and outward breaths to create a rhythm that our ki synced to. When our core tightened to yell our ki flowed steadily with the breath, expelled with the kiai. Kiai also raises yuuki, as the steady, conscious breathing slows the heart rate, reducing the physical sensations we attach to fear and therefore fear itself, a calming feedback loop. We can then think of that freed energy as released in a short, sharp burst of "courage" instead.

To practise this, perform a push intent with and without kiai. Notice the increase in strength as ki becomes more dense when paired with kiai. Then repeat the exercise, this time explicitly utilising yuuki. Calm the body to begin with, and with the freed capacity of mind, genki should be easier to focus and kiai more effective, the rush of emotion with each kiai honing the intent rather than distracting from it. Practice these four states until you can sense the difference in power, both in quality and quantity. Throughout your practice keep in mind whether your yuuki is well-maintained or not. There is no need to be perfectly physically calm every practice, only to be able to note how calm to better estimate the strength of that day's intents.

3.2.2. Yuuki - Advanced Calming

Slowing one's breathing has the ability to start a soothing chain reaction through the body. But there is a shortcut - to hack our bodily ki intents themselves, intercepting the messages intended for the heart and other systems.

To learn though we must be quiet to begin with. Sit quietly, slow your breathing, and feel the subtle pulse of ki intent that ripples with your heartbeat. Not the ki itself, as that will be flowing through the body at a near constant, rippling with the breath and heartbeat, but the change in intent that drives the heartbeat. This ripple will track back to the upper-right of the heart (close to the body's centre-line) to the pacemaker cells which control the heart's contractions, and will spread from the pacemaker cells to the rest of the heart. These are the intents we must intercept.

Follow these ripples and imagine them slowing - I think of a soothe intent to envelope and slow the beat intent, and before long you'll feel your heartbeat begin to slow too. The other physical symptoms of fear will leave you as the mechanisms triggering them unwind, freeing your mind and therefore affording you yuuki to use for ki manipulation. With familiarity you'll be able to track these ripples when under huge mental and physical stress.

It should go without saying that upsetting homeostatic equilibrium is extremely dangerous. This technique should only be performed for a few seconds before you let the body drive itself again. I only ever use this technique as a kick to my system, like a full-body shiver to reset. Slowing the heart too much will leave you breathless, drop your blood pressure and cause you to faint. Playing too harshly with pacemaker cells directly could cause them to fall out of sync, triggering cardiac arrest.

The next question both the curious and antagonistic among you will ask is whether this same soothe intent will work on others to incapacitate them. The answer is yes but, thankfully, there is an inbuilt difficulty; these homeostatic intents written with a ki signature are so tightly bound to that person's subconscious that overriding the messages takes considerable skill. I know of one assassin using this method to trigger cardiac arrest, and the genki "injection" must be delivered with great, well-practised precision within close-range. Miss and the assassin is wide open for a counter. I do not recommend developing this technique both for the safety of others and your own.

3.2.3 Field Ki

Genki manipulation has its limits. We have a finite amount of genki (created from chemical (food) energy) and a finite number of ki particles to assign it too. So there is a maximum amount of genki that we can release in one instant and whilst substantial, it is most unsustainable.

Instead the most reliable, near limitless way to amplify ki is to increase the charge per particle by converting genki to field ki (banoki). In section 1.9 we discussed the ki field; how the ki field is a lower energy state consisting of a soup of decayed and garbled ki energy separated from us by a barrier of ki particles. In 2.2 we visited the surface of the ki field to read the ripples created by the ki of others. Now we will reach through that undulating surface to harness the ki energy beyond.

Find a comfortable and well-centred position. Lower yourself to the ki-field as when learning to read the ki-signatures of those outside of auratic contact (exercise 2.2.2). Feel the waves of others, those vibrations, and settle 'above' them. Remember, your spirit is tethered to this reality by its very existence, so it would take a deliberate act to cut that tie and fall in. I'd hope by now you would be familiar with this exercise and such visualisations would be of little use, but for now attend to the ripples to aid the next step.

Now, you must expend a little effort and genki. Let your mind follow your decaying genki down to the field and visualise yourself penetrating the waves' surface with a hollow reed of ki, finding your way between the surface of empty ki particles at the still spots between the waves. A through or part intent works well here. Your genki and the field ki energy will meet through the imagined reed. The link will feel tenuous at first, as both your effort and genki used in the process will render the exercise counterproductive in net ki, but do not fret - with a little practice you will break even and then excel.

Once the connection is established, you will need to gather field ki. Imagine the reed straw you've made growing roots, spreading through the endless sea of field ki below to efficiently fill the space. Imagine those fine tendrils reaching, your ki signature spilling out as genki converts to give a semblance of structure in the field ki. Then, suck that captured ki back through the reed, palming it into your very real hands. Retrieving the ki can be tricky - overextend and your fine genki root system will break, essentially wasting that genki as it breaks down far too fast. Spread too little and, whilst safe, some genki will be wasted, unable to touch field ki and convert. Take your time - the amplification will come. Aim to be able to repeat this cycle of reaching and capture as a smooth, continuous flow. When this convoluted process becomes second nature, amplification can be achieved with a simple boost or swell intent.

3.2.4 Storing and Moving Ki

At first, this mix of kis will be heavy and unwieldy to move between foci as your ki signature is weakened through the mass. The usually chatty and fast to react genki will take a while to send intents through the rest of the more neutral ki, the genki acting as lit touchpaper. The best way to manage this mass of ki is to maintain the "rootlike" structure of genki through the mass, enabling fast communication between genki and the furthest section of field ki.

To practice, focus genki between your hands and swell the mass. As you sense the energy convert, try to send the ball of ki from left to right between your hands. Notice how, as you continue to amplify (and at first even lose total ki energy during the conversion) this movement increases in difficulty, demonstrating that as the fraction of genki energy in the focussed ball lessens, it takes more time to propagate your intent from the ordered, ki-signature laden genki to the unstructured mass of field ki.

Notice too, that if you were to apply for example a push intent, the strength of the ability would falter at first, the genki now having to learn how to send out this particular intent as well as apply it to itself. You will be frustratingly back to those early days of learning the basic intents. With time and practice though your skill and dexterity with intents will return - and faster this time around. When you've matched your previous skill level across a variety of intents when using only a tenth or less of the genki usually required without field ki, you will be ready to move on.

In the heat of the moment more powerful techniques will require more ki than can be created instantaneously, necessitating you to charge up the ki intent. There is a fine balance to be had between adjusting your genki flow as and when you need it for amplification, versus letting your mind work on autopilot at a fixed conversion rate to over-produce ki. The former of course saves you energy, but the micro-management could make you slower to counter. It is therefore prudent to know how to amplify and store that ki for later. If charging and amplifying a specific attack, of course bring ki to the focus in question, but to be ready at a moment's notice to push, to explode upwards to fly and to guard, you will need to store ki in an aura.

The fundamentals of this particular technique were covered in exercise 2.4.5, but to recap, use your centre as a focus, but this time expel ki. The ki should surround you in an approximate sphere, ready to be gathered into external foci like hands or feet, to report back to you nearby danger, or to create a near-instantaneous barrier. Remember when charging to use a hold intent too, otherwise the genki, untasked, will degrade. This technique is named "aura-shoring". When performed at high ki energy densities, ki will spontaneously interact with the world, creating an impressive and intimidating visible glow around the body.

3.2.5 Raising Shouki

We don't only trade genki for field ki during amplification. We expend effort to maintain spiritual calmness, shouki. If yuuki is the calmness between mind and body, shouki is our self-assuredness, the calmness between mind and ki. The stronger our connection between mind and ki, the easier amplification becomes. As discussed in 1.9, disrupting this link by agitating an opponent through very incisive taunts will knock their power-level down considerably, as they will be unable to efficiently convert genki to field ki. Now we wish to raise our own shouki.

To do so we must get in contact with our spiritual selves - not necessarily in a religious manner, but to know and speak our own truth. For my father, his brush with death was enough for his young self to begin to attend to that spiritualness, but you do not need to go to such extremes.

Mindfulness, the ability to just be in the present, comes easier to some than others. Mindfulness is not the ability to empty the mind, for that can be frustrating to achieve as worries for the day pop in and out. Instead we must notice those thoughts, the emotional and physical feelings, and maintain curiosity toward them before setting them aside for the moment. This benign distance affords us the ability to take stock. Spending time attending to how genki moves through our body and the environment around us can also assist in this mindfulness process. It is a focus on the here and now, and is something we can do alongside other exercises.

Mindfulness however is not dissociation, where we disown thoughts and experiences as not happening or not our own as a defense mechanism. And that leads me to a warning. For individuals dealing with dissociation as a result of, for example, psychological trauma, forcing the mind back in the body can cause an abreaction and worsen your state of mind. If you find you have constant bad reactions to mindfulness, or exercises and martial arts that encourage this open state of mind, then please seek professional support before continuing further. I know of one individual who broke through life-long trauma through sheer force of will, but it took him decades and could have ended poorly. However, dealing with the emotional block monumentally improved his raw power through yuuki and shouki, so your mental health is worth working on in whatever capacity you can. I also speak from experience. Fluctuating shouki was a difficulty I had in my childhood, and it took a lot of self-compassion and support from family and friends to let go of the guilt a child can swallow when they do not know any better. Simple grounding exercises - feeling the earth between your toes, naming sounds, colours and smells in the world around you - can suffice to bolster shouki somewhat in the meanwhile, and was the technique I used until I could be truly still and in the moment.

I told you once that I made the fortuitous decision to sit cross legged over seiza for twenty hours of a twenty-five hour ceremony. This ceremony, to unlock my fullest potential, required me to keep very still at a time I wanted to do anything but; my friends and family were in grave danger, some even passing away in the meanwhile, and the god performing the magic did not come across as particularly competent. As the hours ticked by I felt no different, only frustrated and wrestling with all my concerns with little else to distract me. It was only as my anger boiled over that I felt the ease at which ki enveloped my clench fists, and I understood the power of stillness. Whilst I know the silent magic of the god played a more than substantial part in my increase in power, I know holding out hope for Earth while confronting myself and my fears during those endless hours did play some part in repairing and raising my shouki, and I am grateful for that time to reflect. I hope you can find this time, too.

With every possible type of amplification in your knowledge and the most accessible at your disposal, it is now time to relearn all techniques with field ki in the mix. I know, I know it feels a step backward, but trust me, this step is a huge leap forward, and will give you access to all the work following on. When - or if - you can amplify the strength of your techniques by a factor of two with only a tenth of the genki available, you will be ready to proceed to the next section on guarding.

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