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darkdevasofdestruction · 1 year

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She Hates Yellow ~ Sandor Clegane x Stark!Reader

What a festive day this was - Most of the Stark children thought, dressing in their best clothes, and the girls having their hair done all pretty. Their parents were nervous for what was to come, and though few knew the truth behind the King and the whole retinue, including the Royal Family coming all the way up North, via the King's Road, Y/N was more than aware. Catelyn Stark found it atrocious - Entrusting Y/N, their oldest child, with such vital secrets... Who knew what could happen?

However, Ned was more lax in his parenting choices, and with his first child especially, his beloved little girl, he personally saw to her training and knew they were so much alike in their thinking and their high justice values. He was happy that he didn't take after him in looks, however - Her hair was long and beautiful, a striking scarlet shade of red that outshined both Cat and he'd even dare say Sansa as well, whose hair shone like copper in the light. Y/N's was unique, a dark red that almost looked like the blood moon on a crimson night.

He valued how silent she was, but when she spoke, only wisdom was heard. Though she did not care for the obvious lady mannerisms, she insisted that she picks about every skill that she could learn, saying that it may come of use, in some way. Ned sometimes wondered if he's so biased because she is his firstborn, or because she was special. For him, she was. For Catelyn, Bran was the favourite child, without a doubt. He felt awful, admitting to having a favourite child, but her and Arya reminded him so much of Lyanna that he couldn't help but cherish them so deeply and indulge in whatever passions they had.

Perhaps, this overprotective love comes for guilt - His little girl had married a Lord, only to immediately take her away from there, as soon as he found out how awfully he treated her. He did not believe in divorce - It was great shame - But also would not stand for having his child mistreated by some stranger.

A parent's greatest joy was the child's happiness - And a father feels most fulfilled when his son becomes a respectable and strong man, and his daughter finds safe haven in the arms of her husband and warmth in the harth of her new family.

When the retinue arrived, Y/N stood tall and proud to her father's side, keeping her noble and regal aura - He couldn't tell where he got this from, but she's always had an inapproachable, intimidating expression on her face, so it was no surprise that she kept most to herself - However, he, of all people, knew how kind and golden her heart was, and how she would do anything to keep her family safe and happy. Evidence on how she was always the peace maker between the siblings, mainly Arya and Sansa, and would take care of all of them equally well.

"Who is that one, daddy?" Lord Stark heard Y/N asking, nodding her head towards the one with the dog-like helmet. "Looks like Ser Sandor Clegane. He is known as The Hound. He was assigned as Prince Joffrey's sworn shield. They say he is amongst the most powerful knights, although, I believe he didn't take his vows." her father explained to her. "That means the prince is lucky. A man who loves dogs is a man who is trustworthy... But why would anyone choose yellow as their House's flag? Awful." the young lady jest, and upon looking up, she noticed her father trying not to smile. "Thank you." he knew that his daughter had made a joke in poor taste, hoping to ease his nerves.

The King dismounted his horse and hastily marched their way - He looked Ned up and down and greeted him with an insult. The Stark Lord retaliated not with his words, but with his looks alone, before the two old best friends shared an embrace. He looked over each of the children and he complimented them for their strength, their beauty, their potential and what not. Robert Baratheon looked down at the easily confident look on Y/N's face and he let out an amused exhale. "This one, Ned - She has the potential to be a good Queen. I wonder, however, why is it that you said she was like Lyanna, when she looks like a Tully?" though he father was ready to speak, she cut him off before even a word could be uttered.

"Though I have the appearance of a Tully, and the love and loyalty for mine family to match any trout, my justice sense and mine words are true. I was born on a horse's back and have the wolf's blood surging through my veins. Apart from my father, you shall never meet a more just and fair Stark than me." her eyes never left the King's, yet her little speech seemed to earn a hard laughter, and she felt her shoulder being patted. "Aye, I get it, alright. Ned, this one is more like yourself than you are!" though after this supposedly joyful event, the King asked his old friend to take him to the crypt, no doubt to visit Lyanna's grave. With this, Catelyn had to entertain the Queen, and it fell to Y/N to take care of the children. Of course, the boys wanted to have a sparring match.

"Are you not exhausted, Your Grace?" Y/N looked over at Joffrey and his little brother, Tommen. "Of course not. If it is sparring, I can defeat any opponent, at any given time." the Prince stole a charming look at young Sansa, who smiled and looked down bashfully. Y/N wanted to rip his sleazy head right off, with her own two hands. "Very well." the girl nodded and went to the Sers of Winterfell to prepare the training grounds.

With Tommen being easily defeated by Bran, who sent the boy toppling over and struggling to get up, like a tortoise on its shell, Robb was able to defeat the elder Prince, who got angry and suggested using real swords and fight like knights. The one behind him, The Hound, whose helmet was now down, was perfectly alright with such an idea, wanting not only to abide to his Prince's wish, but to further anger the Young Wolf. Of course, the Sers of Winterfell knew better than to accidentally harm the Heir to the Throne and refused to allow Robb to fight with a real sword. The poor Young Wolf was so angry after being humiliated by the laughing blond Prince, that it could have almost been hilarious.

"My younger brother, Robb, is a strong young man, and the possibility of accidentally laying harm upon the Prince would lead to endless consequences to our House. However, if Your Grace would so desire, I believe we can arrive to a compromise. As your Dog so rightfully said -" the girl stole a piercing look to the disfigured towering man before the much smaller lad. "Wars are not won with sparring swords. Thankfully, we are not a war, and hopefully, our Houses will never have to maliciously fight one another. Thus, my compromise is - The next match shalt be fought with real swords, however, your next opponent, shall be me. That way, even if there is accidental harm, it will not have as much strength as if Robb were to swing his sword." but the young Lion's eyes bulged, perplex at the woman before him - What could this wench know about sword fight anyway? She looked attractive, yes, as was more a woman than Sansa, who was his own age - But that did not mean he would not harm her, even intentionally. Alas that would not be gallant of him, and his mother might scold him. What to do, what to do. "You could not possibly be afraid of a maiden's weak grip on a sword, would you, Your Grace?" she could see the Hound struggling to keep his mouth from forming an amused snarl, making him look even uglier.

"Of course I am not afraid - Only of harming a beautiful lady's skin, perchance. Very well, I suppose such a training could suffice, if you so insist. However, a lord stays true to his convictions and every fight is real - I will not be able to allow myself to go easy on you, even with you being a woman." the Hound offered him his sword, which he gripped with pride.

"I appreciate your convictions, Your Grace. I already feel safer, knowing that someone so fair and just would one day be the ruler of the Realms. Take thy stance, Your Grace." with the same stoic expression on her face, the woman garbed in that beautiful yet elegant with its own simplicity light blue dress moved aside her fur coat and revealed her longsword that reached her chest, if placed onto the ground. The handle was shining gold, and it had a large ruby embellished on it, and on top, a perfect mix of metals that made it look like fire. A Valyrian Steel sword like no other - The only sword forged specifically for a woman - Strong and slender. Gifted to her by her Uncle Benjen, who found it beyond The Wall - It was Dark Sister.

Y/N found it easy to parry off the Prince's blows, and even easier to find the edge of the blade to his neck, thus ending their match and earning the honour for House Stark - Though, she also earned enough scolding and blaming from the Young Lion - But it did not matter. This madness was stopped by their fathers who, once they left the crypt, went to check on their unruly children. "What happened here?" the King asked, seeing the sour look on his eldest child's face, and the non-chalant way in which Y/N cleaned her sword and sheathed it back to her hip.

"His Grace wanted to show his prowess - prove how much he's learnt in his swordsmanship journey. I was too afraid of allowing two young and promising young warriors fight each other with real swords, thus, I was to be the mediator and fight him. A young Prince must learn proper fighting techniques, but we must also focus on proper safety precautious." the young maiden spoke, bowing to the King as she spoke - Somehow, the way she did not mention any winner, pleased the Young Lion, who agreed with her - And escaped from a scolding as well.

"Harsh as steel, cold as ice. You Starks are something else. Let us go, the feast is underway." all children seemed to have forgotten any animosity, and they hurried behind their fathers like little ducklings - Everyone was ready for the feast.

Sitting at the table with the royal children, Y/N dearly wanted to escape - It was so loud and obnoxious, everyone was being so overly annoying, and she dearly wanted to know - How in the world could people tolerate children? Heavens forbid, she did not want to see any children, she truly hated them. Her family was enough to deal with, she needn't anything more than that.

With the lemon cake fiasco, Catelyn had Y/N put both Sansa and Arya to sleep, and Jeyne Poole followed her best friend - with the Lannister maid putting Myrcella to bed as well, she was now the only girl at the table - And heavens forbid, it was dreadful with so many battling egos with unbased ground.

She rose from the table and went outside, to take a breath of fresh air - But the people outside were far merrier and louder than the ones inside, so she went even farther away, into the Godswood, followed by her red wolf, Meleys. Somehow, even though she never believed in Gods, she always felt more at peace in the warmth of the white and red, old forest.

But that peace did not last forever, as Meleys started snarling, consequence of a stranger approaching. With a lethargic laziness, Y/N turned her head to look at the newcomer, and she saw The Hound, towering over her like a mountain troll over a dwarf. "Surely, you are not here to pray." she offered a mock smirk.

"Only fools pray." he barked harshly. "I have been tasked with bringing you back to your room." "By whom?" the maiden raised her eyebrow in curiosity. "My parents stopped looking for me when they realised how often I went to find my peace in the forest."

"Unfortunately for you, missy, your mother wants you to pacify your siblings." this time, it was him making fun of the obvious distress voiced by an almost exasperated groan.

"Can they not just sleep away their disagreements?" she asked, not bothering to get up from the snow on the ground, and even throwing a dismissive hand in the air, to signify the insignificance of their battling childishness.

"Sometimes siblings are more of a bother than its worth, little fox." the man's nickname seemed to pique her interest.

"You would know all about siblings, would you not?" she asked, only to raise to her feet. "And what about me, except for my stature whilst standing next to you, reminds you of a little fox?" the girl asked, pacifying her wolf into calming down.

"Your silver tongue. Do you lie as well as you sweet talk?" the man barked an ugly laugh.

"I am proficient in neither - In fact, I do not like politicians. Mind you, if I was good, I would have been able to say that your Flag looks beautiful - And look convincing. However, as you can see, highlighted better by the moonlight - I cannot." she retorted easily to the man's words.

"A wolf hates dogs? Is it because they are supposed to be tame?" but the girl smirked at him wickedly.

"Yellow is the worst colour known to mankind." her reply made the man look down at her, bewildered by the response.

"The... Colour?" the man grumbled lowly, watching her nod silently. "That is the stupidest argument I ever heard."

"But it did amuse you, and it proved my point. Correct?" the girl's voice seemed triumphant, it was almost endearing, the man thought.

"You are one nasty little fox. And you should know - Nasty little foxes don't last long in King's Landing if they keep that attitude. They will get their tongue cut and their fur made into a damn fine pelt." the man's threat was a warning as well.

"I can accept that, only if you are the one warming yourself with my very fluffy, warm and perfume-embedded fur. Alas, I can imagine you'd miss this vixen tongue you claim that I have." she shrugged simply. Sandor was taken with her deeply. He wanted to hear more of a snark - Or, perhaps, even better - He should arrange a battle of wits between her and The Imp. That, along with some good ale, should prove to be a fine evening. Great, now he wanted to get rid of that little princeling and go back to being shit-faced drunk in some tavern.

"Don't say those words to those fancy shit lords, little fox. They won't know the difference between jest and truth." the man warned once again, as he heard the girl's playful hum.

"I save it only for the more interesting ones." would it be frowned upon, grabbing her and having her against the tree, right then and there? "Would you count yourself as one... Ser?"

"You'd be wrong to call me any of that stupid shit." the man's growl was akin to a dog's snarling.

"Woof." she let out an empty laugh, taunting him, before hurrying and walking ahead. She dictated when the conversation is over, and for now, it was.

Though they did not interact again, for the few remaining days in Winterfell, they had to see each other daily on the road. The Hound, busy as he was, could always feel the teasing gaze on the back of his head - Yet if he turned, he wouldn't even catch the glimpse of her. When he did find her, however, she was engaged in what looked like rather amusing conversations with none other than the notorious Imp, who made the girl laugh - Girl, who, in turn, made him guffaw even harder. How? He could not tell. Smart people conversations, maybe. He cared for none of those. It's not like he cared, after all. No matter how intriguing or tempting having even a night spent with Lady Y/N, he knew it could never be. She was the Lady of Winterfell, a noble Stark, and she was probably betrothed to begin with. She was old enough for stupid shit like that.

Even so, none of those trivialities could stop him from recalling the alluring conversations shared. Laconic as she was, the sweet-poisoned way in which she spoke - No wonder she could charm even the Imp, who was renowned for his orator skills. He may be a drunk whore just like him, but what he lacked in warrior skills, he had smarts - It was the only perk he had.

The only thing he could do, at least, was to silently watch over her and offer her the protection she may or may not need - After all, who else but he knew best how atrocious the Lannisters truly were? Who else, but him, could know first hand the sadism that Prince Joffrey hid behind that Prince Charming facade which he put on because of his mother. He wasn't the Fair Knight from the sweet stories little maidens always fawned over. He was a monster. And once these wolf pups find out the truth, they may already be the lions' next meal.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder - Old as she may be compared to her siblings, was she also a victim to those love stories? Was she also hopelessly fawning over the Gallant knight Florian and jealously wishing to be in Jonquil's place? Was she also dreaming for miracles, like her little sister Sansa, who was walking willingly into the Lion's den, like a stupid little love sick doe.

And so it happened, when The Hound was dismissed, so that the Crown Prince could have a walk with his young maiden Lady Sansa, whilst Arya called her friend Mycah, the Butcher's boy, with whom she was sparring and playing around with wooden swords; their elder sister Y/N was supervising them from afar, but she was not alone, for the Imp was sitting by her side, a cup of wine in his hand.

The two were engaged in quite the conversation, counting the most interesting rumours about Old Valyria and what caused its doom - Meleys was sitting peacefully next to Tyrion, allowing him to pet her head, content that she could see her owner well, and protect her if needed. "I could never imagine that I would ever, in this life, have the privilege of seeing a direwolf, let alone pet one so docile. Might I say, even the stories don't do them justice. Though I have been able to admire yours the most, all the others were just as beautiful." the Dwarf spoke, looking down at the pup who flicked her ears lazily.

"Count your blessings, Lord Tyrion. Meleys is, after all, the most beautiful of them all. But don't tell Sansa I said that, she would get upset." the girl chuckled lightly, extending her hand to scratch her lovely companion under her chin.

"May I ask why did you choose that name for her?" the man asked. "Heard by a capricious Lord, they might accuse you of treason."

"I know." she nodded solemnly. "But Meleys was known as the Red Queen. She was, in her prime, the fastest dragon during the Dance of the Dragons, and in light, she shone bright scarlet and coppery. What other name could honour my sweet pup's beauty... As well as mine own?" the girl smirked cunningly. "Besides... Lady Rhaenys Targaryen was known as the Queen who never was - Yet she still maintained her regal grace and wisdom about her. She did not need a title to define her greatness, just as I, as well, do not need any status, wealth, nor fame to define mine worth." Y/N continued to explain. "Moreover... Arya named her wolf Nymeria - I don't need to explain why she chose such a name, do I?" she hid her amusement by sipping more wine.

"I see - I should have known. My Lady, you are rather inspired. I wish more people thought like you - Alas, people's worth is merely defined by beauty, wealth, fame and status alone. Good people are trampled over and used to their last drop." the man sighed, daring, for even one second, to dream of a better life, when his nickname wouldn't be 'The Imp' alone.

"Then you better surround yourself with worthy, trusted people, My Lord. Everyone else is a liar. Most often, even our own selves." though, as soon as she uttered that, Arya's desperate shriek made the three jolt up and run that-a-way.

"Arya, what happened?!" Y/N asked, her hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to kill whoever dared touch her sweet sister. Instead, they saw a worried Sansa in the back, and Joffrey, with his sword out, cutting the cheek of poor Mycah.

"Nephew, what is the meaning of this?" Tyrion asked - But he earned no reply, for Arya, due to her impulsivity and fear of having her friend tortured even more, took the stick she was sparring with and hit the Prince, allowing the Butcher's boy to run away. In his angry frenzy, the blond lion started swinging his sword around aimlessly, cursing the young girl and chasing her around, until Arya tripped and fell on the ground. "JOFFREY, STOP!" Tyrion yelled at the Prince, who pointed his sword to the girl's neck.

"I WILL GUT YOU LIKE A FISH - CUNT!" seeing how blinded the Prince was, Y/N was ready to tackle Joffrey to the ground, only to have Nymeria leap from behind a bush and she bit his sword hand, making him fall to the ground, dropping the weapon.

"What a mess." Y/N cursed under her breath, as Meleys started growling at Nymeria, who was shorter than her, and she lead her away. Arya quickly swooped up Joffrey's sword and she pointed it at the frightened, bleeding Prince grovelling on the ground pathetically.

"No - Please, no-- Please, don't." the two-faced Prince begged. The young Stark looked at her elder sister, who nodded solemnly at her - Thus, she threw the sword in the river and ran away with her wolf.

"O, Lord Tyrion, I smell a lot of trouble to come." Lady Y/N muttered, looking with horror at the humiliated Prince. Sansa crouched desperately to his side, attempting to comfort and emphatise with him.

"O, my prince, my poor prince - Look what they've done to you. I'll go back to the inn and bring help." but as she reached her hand out to caress his cheek, the boy snarled at the fair maiden. "Don't touch me."

"I very much agree, My Lady." the Lord sighed as he went to his nephew and dragged him up, before taking him back to the camp.

The Stark children were thus brought, along with their father, in front of the King, who was sat on a throne, and the Queen was glaring them up, next to her very much offended son, with the bandaged wrist. Robert Baratheon had a stern look on his face, as he assessed all three of Ned's offsprings, before sharing a short look with his oldest best friend. His first mistake was to ask Sansa to speak, as she was there, having a stroll with Joffrey.

Alas, the two young girls started physically fighting, which made Y/N yell at them sternly to stop. "ENOUGH!" what Ned often couldn't do, Y/N could. Ned could never hit his children - It hurt him too much to even scold them, let alone hit them. But Y/N was their sister. Y/N was stern, and she knew just how harsh she had to be, to make a statement. Y/N roughly grabbed the shoulders of the two girls, pulling them apart, before slapping their cheeks. "You do not quarrel like children before the king. Now stay quiet unless you are spoken to." Sansa knew Y/N better than Arya, she thought, seeing that she was older and spent more time with her. That is why, Sansa knew very well, that she could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times Y/N truly got angry enough and had to brutally separate two siblings after a fight. Unfortunately, it was usually between herself and Arya - She never seemed to have such a problem with the boys... Unless Theon did something remarkably stupid.

"Your Grace, I and my father deeply apologise for their unseeming behaviour. As their elder sister, and the one tasked with watching over them, please, punish me however you see fit." the Stark girl knelt before the King humbly. She knew very well that, not only Robert Baratheon favoured her for allegedly reminding him of his late beloved Lyanna, thus, she hoped she could try and manipulate him into seeing the truth behind the lies. That... And she had Tyrion's alibi, and hopefully, it would work in her favour.

"She's as wild as that animal of hers, she needs to be punished." Cersei glared at young Arya - But the King raised his tone at her, reproaching the Queen.

"What would you have me do, whip her through the streets?!" he sneered at her. "Damn it. Children FIGHT! It's over." the man rolled his eyes, annoyed by having to pacify such a ridiculous situation. Being King was a drag, and being a father was equally terrible.

"Joffrey will bare those scars for the rest of his life." Cersei glared at her husband.

"You let that little girl disarm you?" the King looked with disappointment at his son. In the back, his younger brother, Renly, was laughing his heart out, mocking the Prince for his incompetence. "Take him out of here." the King waved his hand dismissively. "You. Tell me what happened. Get up." with a not so harsh voice, the King motioned for Y/N to get up and speak.

"Although we do not know the entire story, Your Grace, I and Lord Tyrion were there to watch over Arya and her friend, the Butcher's boy, who were sparring with wooden sticks by the river." the girl began her story.

"Lord Tyrion, ey? Then he is also a witness for this mess?" the King asked, having the Imp walk over.

"Yes, Your Grace." the little man nodded. "I and Lady Y/N were engaged into a deep conversation, a little away from the two little ones playing, before we heard Lady Arya screaming. Once we arrived, we saw Prince Joffrey cutting the Butcher's boy with his sword. Lady Arya used her stick to hit the Prince, allowing the boy to escape, but Joffrey started swinging at her. When his sword was pointing at her, her wolf went to attack the Prince, and disarmed him. The way I see it, the wolf merely acted in any way a dog does - Defending its owner." the look of hatred and scorn on the Queen's face was enough to show how displeased she was with the unwanted testimony.

"So you really let a young girl disarm you. With a wooden stick. Enough. I don't want to hear any more of this. Ned, you discipline your child, and I will do the same with mine." the King got up from his throne, as if to end the conversation.

"What about the direwolf?" Cersei snarled awfully through her teeth. "What of the beast that savaged your son?"

"We found no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace." one of the knights spoke.

"So be it." the King wanted to let the matter go away and drink his problems away.

"You have two other wolves." Cersei spoke, wanting revenge.

Hearing such vengeful malevolence, Y/N threw herself at Robert Baratheon's feet at once. "Your Grace, I beg of you, do not kill our wolves. They have been as close to us, as our own siblings, since we rescued them, as pups. If it is the act of self-defense the matter, then, by all means, I am willing to have mine own wolf savage me the same as Nymeria did to Prince Joffrey. And if the Queen, Her Grace, wants to see no more wolf, then I will chase them away - We are still close to Winterfell. They can find their way home, to their kin. We were wrong to bring our companions with us - A direwolf's home is the North - It's the forest - Not a highly populated city. I beg of you, your Grace. Have mercy on us, for we love them as much as we love each other." Y/N knelt desperately before the King, pleading and bowing all the way to the ground. She could not imagine ever forgiving herself, or anyone else, should Meleys, Lady or Nymeria be killed. For her family, she would even humiliate herself to such degree.

"Y/N, raise up and look at me - " the King helped the young lady up, speaking in a softer voice. Though she did not have the features of Lyanna Stark, her deep devotion for her family and courage to stand up not on her behalf, but for her kin - She truly was her Aunt's niece. "You are a lady. It is one for a man to have scars, and another for an unmarried lady. You are aware of the implications, aren't you?" he tried to scare her off, but her gleaming eyes and the ambition, passion and love in her beautiful orbs melted his last remaining resolve.

"I will order my wolf to even rip my arm off, if it would please Her Grace and atone for our misbehaving - As long as the wolves live. I cannot imagine our soul kin dying, nor do I wish for my sweet, young sisters to encounter such grief at an early age." the King groaned loudly and shook his head. Watching the tears of conviction and bravery well up in those crystal eyes of hers, innocent and pure, only drew flashbacks of Lyanna before his vision. He was done with all this. He needed those bloody drinks, and he needed his best friend urgently.

"Fine, fine. Chase off the wolves. I don't want to see them anymore." the King put his hand on Ned's shoulder and dragged him away from the tent - It was already late evening, and he was getting tired of being a King.

"Sister, won't you let Lady Stark go already? It was no one's fault that the accident happened." Tyrion tried to pacify his sister, but it only made things worse.

"I don't need any words from your filthy liar tongue, Tyrion." her eyes almost bulged with hatred. "I will have someone punished for what happened to my son!" her voice boomed loudly - But another entered the tent. It was The Hound.

"The butcher's boy has been caught and killed, Your Grace." he spoke, but it did not please the Queen.

"Then, if it will offer any consolation for Her Grace, I will do as I have promised." Sandor was confused as to what the young lady was saying, or why she went on the ground, waiting obediently, as if she was lowering her collar to accept beheading.

"Clegane - Bring the red wolf over. Keep a tight hold on it. We don't want more accidents, do we?" the sneer she spit made the Hound simply conform to her words, albeit, not without his gaze lingering onto the red head who knelt with a stone face.

"Y/N, what are you doing? Are you insane? You are a lady! What will your Lord husband say when he sees those scars?!" Sansa cried out, sobbing, with Arya holding onto her.

"Luckily, I have no Lord husband, and even if I did, he should live with the idea that a Prince is not to be brought to harm by any means, under no circumstance - Those who do must face the consequences of their own actions." both Sansa's and Arya's blood froze in their veins - Those words weren't only to please the Queen, but to warn them. Y/N's eyes were fixated on them, and they held no emotion. Both girls would have preferred to get a beating or a scolding - But this... This was excruciatingly painful.

Clegane brought the large red wolf - And thankfully, most people ran from the tent. "Meleys, issa jorrāelagon." Tyrion realised it was High Valyrian she was speaking with. Most noble children were taught that language when they were children, albeit, few actually want to bother with it. No wonder the one naming her wolf over a creature that only responds to Valyrian-spoken orders would fluently speak the language of old. "Māzigon kesīr." the wolf tugged at the leash and went to sit besides her owner. Looking at the two, he realised how much they looked alike. Same hair, same eyes - And the invisible bond between those two was so evident, that it almost made his little heart break.

Sandor looked down as he felt a small, gentle hand over his - And he allowed the leash into her hand. Y/N's other arm was extended. Unlike the Imp, the Hound couldn't understand her broken words - yet the emotion behind them was enough. "Angogon." but the wolf looked at her owner and whimpered. "Meleys. Angogon." Tyrion knew that the girl was ordering her beloved wolf to bite her, and the animal was confused and afraid - How could she hurt the person she loved the most? The one she's supposed to protect?

Y/N sighed. "Arya, come over." Arya knew Y/N's secret - Y/N was a warg. In fact, she claimed all the siblings were wargs, and she tried to teach and help them actively bond with their wolves, yet it did not work as well as expected. Still, Arya went behind Y/N and held her shoulders, in case she lost composure and her body fell to the side. It only happened twice, but better safe than sorry. Y/N looked down, her hair covering her face - And now, she could see her own self, through her wolf's very eyes.

The graveyard silence of the tent was broken by the snarling sound of the wolf biting her owner's arm, chewing at it - Her snout was bloody, as well the arm and the ground. Blood stained the sleeve of the ripped dress. The wound would have hurt much worse if Y/N wasn't warged, but she stepped back and then sat down, as the wolf, before she went back into her own consciousness. She bit her lip hard, now feeling the full searing agony electrocuting her entire arm. She felt the iron on her tongue, but did not as much as whimper - Yet she could feel wetness wash her cheeks. Her body was reacting on its own to the agonizing pain afflicting her arm. "Avy jorrāelan, Meleys. Avy jorrāelan. Ao issi nykeā sȳz hāedar." Tyrion looked down, unable to see Y/N patting and praising her remorseful wolf, confused as she was - He could not bare to see the blood falling even still on the ground - The sweet declarations of love towards her companion were bittersweet enough as they were. Sometimes - In fact, very often - He truly hated how merciless his family was.

"Dismissed." Cersei growled, dragging her son out of the tent.

"You may raise, Lady Y/N." the girl nodded simply, trying to mask the trembling of her figure as she stood up. She must not have been aware at first, but from the anguish her body felt after the gnawing, the leash had fallen from her grasp. Were it not for Clegane holding tightly onto it, who knows what a worried wolf would have done to protect her master.

"Thank you, Lord Tyrion." her voice was soft and barely audible, and her arm was trembling, yet she wasn't clutching on it. Instead, her good hand went to take ahold of the leash - But Clegane wasn't letting go. He was looking down at the little fox, unsure of what to do. He wasn't there to know the fate of the wolves, yet he desperately wanted to just let her go. Was this her own doing, or did the Queen order it? A normal lady would despair at having the tiniest flaw on her body, let alone her whole forearm mutilated in such a way. That won't perfectly heal, no matter what revolutionary, miracle medicine the Maesters give her. Lady Y/N looked absolutely pitiful, Sandor thought; she looked so small and broken, so vulnerable and afraid... This little fox cub was going to end up as food if she continues to offer up her fur to save her siblings - And dear as she may be for him, there is little a stupid guard dog can do to protect a fox kit from a whole pack of rabid, starving lions.

"You may release her." he did not let go, even feeling that small hand over his, trying to dig the leather leash from his strong grip. Somehow, even without seeing her face, covered by the curtain of carmine velvet hair, he could feel the rising rage bubbling in her heart. "LET HER GO, MUTT!" her head snapped up, and she snatched the leash, stepping away from him - The hard glare on her face shocked Clegane. From the mischievous little vixen, to a broken, bitter noble lady. Blood for blood, a wound for a wound. She protected her siblings in her detriment, but to what extent can her life stretch out and save everyone? He dearly hoped he wouldn't find out the answer - Those tears were enough to make him forget how to speak or even think straight. He hadn't realised how awful he felt, watching the broken porcelain doll before him - Nor how protective he suddenly felt over her.

"Let her go, Clegane. The wolves are her responsibility now." Sandor needn't be told twice, as he watched the girl get out of the tent. He stared down at the Imp, and marched out as well. From the corner of his eye, he saw, in the distance, the three Stark sisters and their father, surrounded by the three wolves. They looked like a proper family. Pity it had to be broken.

In life, there are only two types of families - Those who are dysfunctional to the core from the very beginning, his own life being the best example - And those perfect, loving families, much like the Starks, who end up torn apart by the ruthless cruelty of the former category. Bitter as he may be, Sandor Clegane wished not to harm any of those innocent fools, especially these little ladies who have been so perfectly safe from any worry and danger, and think life to be truly beautiful and worth living. Somehow, his heart was alit with a burning need of protecting their innocence - The innocence taken away from himself and his sister, the hope that was robbed from him all these years ago - All because of his own brother.

Far into the forest, Y/N, with a heavy heart and a pained arm, warged into her wolf again, and lead her two wolf sisters away from there. Better away than dead. Hopefully, they will find a pack to lead, or go back home. Either way, it was fine. But Y/N was done with her sisters for a while. Though she could not condemn them - Joffrey was a jerk, and his mother, even more so - Things were going to be trouble. "Daddy - Is there no way to return back to Winterfell?" Y/N asked, almost as if she was resigned with her imminent death.

"No, my dear... Unfortunately... No." Ned sighed and hugged his eldest daughter, kissing the top of her head. Neither of them imagined it would be one of their last tender father-daughter moments. "Let's get that wound looked after." but she stepped away.

"I'll wrap it myself. Please take care of these two. They need you more." Ned watched Y/N turn and walk away, before turning his sight to his youngest daughters, still shaken up. Not only was she afraid for them, due to their childish outbursts and lack of understanding of proper high court etiquette and political manners - He was even more afraid that Y/N would end up taking all the blame on herself, to protect her two foolish sisters. She changed so much after that marriage... She became so self-sacrificing that it pained him, as a father, for indirectly causing this shift; From an impishly playful and haughty little lady, to the wise woman with the bitter and nostalgic smile of an old crone weathered by countless winters.

Y/N went back to the river, away from the nosy people. The river was part of her inner peace, after all. Half a Tully of Riverrun, on the side of her mother, she always felt comfort in the sound of the rapid water breaking over the stones. When she wasn't seeking the calm of the Godswood, she would listen to the lullaby of the rivers running wild.

Oh, how she missed her mother - Her heart ached, looking towards the clean water, lost in thought. How they would go by the river and play barefoot in the water, or make flower crowns for the family together; How they would embroider pretty dresses, or recite old poems that Cat was taught by her own mother, and even her grandmother. She would tell her stories about her little misadventures and mischief with her sister, Lysa, who was now the Lady of the Eyrie, a castle high up into the mountains that made you feel as if you were floating up onto the fluffy clouds. And on the rarest occasions, Y/N would listen, with the widest grin on her face, about her romantic moments with her father. He may be a little clumsy when it comes to love and the hearts of women, but he was always gallant and attentive with her mother; They truly loved each other. Y/N didn't need the ballads and stories of beautiful maidens and brave knights falling in love flawlessly, at first sight - She wanted a caring and tender love story like that of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully; Flawed as it may be, at least it was real. She needn't the most charming or gallant man, nor a poet or a scribe - But a man who would protect her and treat her with such care, as if she was a frail little snowdrop amidst the snow.

Her reverie day-dreaming was broken, as the loud clanking of heavy armor approached her. Though it was now dark outside, as the night he found her in the Woods in Winterfell, the Hound's towering form appeared in front of her. "Hello, dog. Are you here to seek the apology that you rightfully deserve? Or, mayhaps either of the offended Graces wanted more revenge on the, to quote, 'stupid cunt', who humiliated the little, defenseless princeling?" that sharp bitterness would have been amusing, were it not for the implication. However, Sandor remained silent for a while. He went on one knee and took the girl's injured arm - Carefully as a crystal doll, and he washed it away, before wrapping it up. His touch was gentle as no one would expect, but the wound still burnt in agony, causing the maiden to instinctively attempt to remove her arm from the on-going pain with a soft whimper.

He did not apologise for causing her pain, but she needn't an apology for it anyway. Instead, it was her who apologised. "I hate you for killing an innocent boy." she said, out of the blue. "But a dog is a dog. Fiercely loyal until the very end. It was not for you to disobey." she continued. "Forgive me for insulting you. You did not deserve an insult - Lest of all, for doing your job." the man stared her in the eye, conflicted at what to say. Then, he saw the stray tear, possibly escaped because of the wound, and he took a rag from his pocket, wiping it away as gently as he could.

"No need to apologise to me, girl." he grumbled lowly. "You more than paid for whatever happened." she said nothing - But the way she looked at him was amusing - She wanted to strike him down where he stood. "I know what you're thinking. Don't. Say one wrong word and you might get your head put on a spike."

"Of course. I cannot trust a dog which is not loyal to me. Nor can I trust a wolf that is greener than me. And you wonder why I dislike speaking." the maiden scoffed, removing her arm from his hold once he finished wrapping it up. "Thank you - Ser." she emphasised the last word, knowing it would irritate him.

"I am no knight. I spit on them and their vows." the man spit on the ground.

"I know. That's why I taunted you." she retorted easily. "If you don't accept my apology, then that's fine. You hold 'Dog' as a compliment, rather than an insult. Smart. The connotation, however - Differs on who it is that calls you that. It might serve as a term of endearment for some."

"I like dogs better than knights... A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And the hound will look you straight in the face." perhaps it was a way of intimidating the girl, but Sandor leaned closer to the younger girl, his eyes dead set on her.

But she did not back down - Instead, she leaned forward, and she smirked like an enticing vixen. She was so close to his face - So close that he could feel her breath on his face; And those plump lips of hers, soft and beautiful, were tempting him so bad. "Before or after I'm dead?" Sandor wanted to reach his hands out and grab her face, smashing his lips against her own - Pink and wet, like a rose petal bathing in the morning dew. It was almost like she was begging him to kiss her.

"You have a death wish, little fox?" the man growled lowly, almost resembling a dog.

"No more than you do."

Their stay in King's Landing, albeit luxurious, and with enough maids to care for them, was awful. No matter what, the only reason they were still fine, was because their father was still alive, and with the uncanny influence as the Hand of the King. She could not imagine how stressed he was feeling every day he woke up and realised the corruption and injustice crawling through every corner of this God forsaken place.

Though she couldn't spend time with Clegane, being the Prince's sworn shield and constantly by his side - Tyrion was another story altogether. The witty little imp was great to spend the time with, so at least, whenever she was drinking and laughing with him, she felt as close to the word 'safe' as she could possibly feel in the capital city of Westeros. But Tyrion's word meant nothing, in front of the Queen or the Prince, so from how much could he protect her, before she gets her head on a spike, as the dog said?

The very first great festivity to be held in King's Landing was Joffrey's Name's Day Tourney - Many knights from all over Westeros have gathered forth, joining the jousting competition. Though from Winterfell, no knight was able to get too far down the brackets, they still fought valiantly, and were praised. Ser Loras Tyrell, Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Gregor Clegane, Sandor's very own elder brother, went farthest into the competition. The charming lion even defeated Barristan the Bold, as their father called him - What a great and true knight the old one is!

Alas, during the semi-finals, Ser Loras was to fight The Mountain. The Knight of the Flowers went to gift Sansa a rose before doing a pretty courtesy in front of the King, who allowed the beginning of the match. Loras was riding a white, pristine clean, beautiful mare, and he was dressed in shining silver-like armor, making his radiating, prince-like handsomeness even more highlighted. Sansa's face was as red as the rose she was gifted, looking at the dashing young boy, old as Robb and Jon. On the other end of the court, dressed in all black, on a black stallion, The Mountain, towering over all, was fixing that ugly, yellow shield, with a single black dog painted on it.

It was a scary match, Y/N though, gripping instinctively the hilt of Dark Sister - It was a bad habit she had to break, whenever she was nervous. She was a lady, and she couldn't go around with a sword so leisurely anymore - Not in King's Landing. This was, at least, an exception, especially as she hid it with her cloak so well. At a tourney, everyone had a weapon! "Don't let Ser Gregor hurt him." Sansa, afraid for the beautiful boy, clinged to both her father's and her sister's arms, her gaze fixed on the knight. A bit more, and she might have been forgetting how to breathe. "He's going to die!"

"Ser Loras rides well." Ned reassured his sweet girl.

"Daddy, if you were there, you could have defeated them all." Y/N grinned childishly at her two family members. Unfortunately, neither of them were paying attention.

As the trumpet sang, the two knight galloped towards one another - And to everyone's erupting glee, the feared Mountain toppled over from his horse, down on the ground, bringing down the fragile wooden fence with him. Y/N jolted to her feet - She smelt trouble - She looked back, and saw the Hound. He felt her gaze, and looked straight back. Though perfectly stoic, Y/N could almost feel even his nervousness. Sandor might be a dog, but Gregor as a whole damn mountain - Bigger, stronger, and far scarier. The man could see the anxiety surging through her veins - Was she afraid for the charming knight? Did she fall in love with him and his beauty, like all the other maidens watching? Still - Her gorgeous eyes were pooling with terror.

In an instant, she looked back at the court. "Daddy, the Mountain is going to kill Loras Tyrell." she found herself uttering in an eerie tone. Gregor picked up his sword and beheaded his own poor horse, while Loras was doing courtesies. It wasn't surprising for his brother, but the action startled even the otherwise level-headed Y/N, the dog noted. Everyone gasped, watching the huge man strike the knight from his horse, and even try to slash him, while he was on the ground - Luckily, he blocked it with a shield. That was no knight behaviour, and definitely not something to show during a sacred festivity.

Y/N felt her heart beating fast - On the ground, she did not see Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, the sweet, dashing boy from Highgarden; Not anymore. She saw Robb Stark, the young wolf. She saw Jon Snow, her shy brother. Her family. "LEAVE HIM ALONE!" the foolish, reckless, absolutely idiotic girl jumped the protective fence from the stands and used Dark Sister to block a well-aimed blow to the boy's face. Clegane thought the girl had a death wish - Was she fucked in the head, to go against the bloody Mountain? Was she that desperately in love with that young boy that she'd give away her life, for his own? Regardless of the reason, even he couldn't help but worry for the foolish lady.

Her arms were trembling, and she couldn't hold her own against this outlandish brute strength, but at least she was happy to have spared the boy - Temporarily, at least. "YOU ARE IN THE PRESENCE OF THE KING AND PRINCE JOFFREY - STOP THIS UNSIGHTLY BEHAVIOUR AT ONCE!" but the Mountain did not listen. He was deaf and blind to anything but his rage. "Loras, get up, now!" she spoke, stepping back and parrying one more of his blows. Y/N was sure her arms would fall off, and were it not for her sword being forged from Valyrian steel, she could have sworn it would break from his brute strength, and the barely healed wound on her forearm would spill over with blood and flesh and bits of bone all over the ground.

The third strike was the last, and she was on her back - For a split moment, she remembered how Bran defeated Tommen and sent him to the ground, struggling like a turtle on its shell. Seeing the man raise his longsword to strike somewhere between herself and Loras, she heard the boy call to her. "Duck!" and the two rolled away from the blow.

Stupid girl, going out of her way to fight death himself. What the hell is in that empty head of hers? She goes out of her way to seduce him, and now, she's shielding another. Y/N and Loras looked like two children, dirty and playing in the sand, only to get bullied by the awful Mountain. Screw him and his stupid brain, and his stupid eroded heart and his stupid fucking morals. "LEAVE THEM BE!" a familiar, rough voice called out, and another man, wearing black, leapt from the stands to parry another swing from the Mountain. Sandor Clegane was shielding Lady Stark, who was on the ground. She looked up at his grand form, struggling to push his gargantuan brother away from the two idiots. Y/N and Loras dragged each other up quickly, scurried next to one another, defending themselves behind his shield and her sword, yet also watching the immaculate fight between the two brothers.

Whilst the Tyrell knight wanted to one day have the Hound's otherwordly sword skill; Y/N felt her heart go crazy with mad love. That man had no reason to go out of his way and face the worst man known to Westeros, and coincidently, his own worst fear - Yet, there he was, protecting her, and fighting off his mad brother. Y/N was striken dizzy with such an intense adoration for Sandor Clegane, like she's never thought possible.

Stupid Joffrey and everyone else only watched the altercation unfold - Were they all dumb? Were they perhaps too stunned by the dance of death? Or were they screaming, yet their shrieks were deaf to those in the ring? "STOP THIS MADNESS, IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!" that, however, everyone heard, as Robert Baratheon rose from his throne and his voice roared and thundered throughout the place. The hound kneeled to bend his knee to the King while simultaneously dodging a fatal blow from his brother.

Y/N's hand was desperately clutching on her chest, trying to stop her beating heart from escaping her chest, while her other hand was shaking terribly, clasped around the hilt of her sword. The stupid Stark girl stole a glance at her father - He almost had collapsed from worry, but at least was now relieved she was unharmed. She will explain to him later, the reason for her absolute foolishness. Sansa, too, felt at ease, seeing no one die - Though the shock from the horse's brutal death still weighed heavy on her. She saw Gregor throw away his sword in disgust, and walk away. What a disgusting, unsightly creature. However, Sandor Clegane was his complete opposite. He was faithfully kneeling on one knee, his hands on the hilt of the sword impaled into the ground, and head was down, in respect and loyalty for his King. Y/N had never thought she would ever see someone like him in such a light - However, her heart beat faster, seeing him so humble. He was the only one who got out of his way to protect Loras, a literal child, against his own brother, the most feared Knight of Westeros.

Sandor Clegane was one of the only men that Y/N would call a true Knight.

Looking up, The Hound saw that he could rise - And so he did, yet his head was still hung. Though both young ones still in the ring had trembling legs like flowers in the spring breeze, they made their way towards the Knight who saved them. "I owe my life to you, Ser. And you, My Lady - Thank you to the both of you." though Y/N was too absorbed by shock to speak, Sandor simply spat in bitterness. He truly hated all this unnecessary attention brought to him. "I'm no Ser." Loras grabbed the Hound's hand and brought it up on the sky, declaring him the winner. Y/N smiled, and began clapping - The rest followed. The man, however, was glaring deeply at everyone.

"Just accept the appreciation, dog." Sandor looked down at the girl, and he wanted to snark her - But that smile. That smile stopped him. It was sweet, and her eyes were sparkling. For a few seconds, he felt as though that dreamy and pure adoration was addressed to him. He loved that thought, be it real or not.

He hated seeing her afraid, like when her life was threatened by his own brother, and he hated seeing her angry, like during the Joffrey incident. He hated seeing her wounded, as with the wound on her arm, and he hated seeing her crying, having seen her cheeks wet with tears.

The dog loved, however, those witty one liners of hers, and the cunning philosophies she spoke of. He loved hearing her conversations with the Imp, although he got jealous, because they were always so clever and tricky. He loved seeing that smirk of hers, as she taunted or mocked him. And he adored that love she held for her family and how she nurtured them all with all her heart.

However, what Sandor Clegane loved, more than anything, was that genuine, innocent smile that. It was all for him. His dear little fox.

But now came the bad part of being the 'hero' as those foolish maidens would call him now. He had to participate in the farce of a tourney.

Watching the girl take back her seat next to her sister and father, and them hugging her tightly - She seemed to have a guilty expression on her face - But they forgave her for making them worry. That was family. Loving and forgiving each other. Not what his brother did. Killing their father. Killing their sister. Melting half of his face in the brazier.

Monster.

Sandor's first joust was against the King's own brother, Renly Baratheon, whom he easily defeated, and next, he had to fight the Queen's brother, Jaime Lannister for the semi-finals. A man came over to him with a basket full of flowers. He cursed him off, but the man insisted that he HAD to gift a woman the flower. If he wasn't so done with life, he would have shoved that rose down his nose, watching him bleed to death. But out of respect and loyalty for the King, he kept himself in check, begrudgingly snatching that stupid flower. It was blood red, but thorny. Sandor climbed on his dear horse, Stranger, and all the way to the stands, he absent-mindedly removed the thorns from its stem until he got in front of the beautiful Stark girl with red hair. He extended his hand over, but did not directly face her - Only from the corner of his eye, to get a feel of her feelings regarding his weird gesture. "Here, little fox. Tradition - Or whatever horse-shit some fool spat."

He felt the flower being slowly taken away from his hand, yet he did not, at first, see the demure, bashful expression on her face, nor that sweet blush. For what felt like an eternity, but were merely a few seconds, the girl did not speak - Thousands of fitting replies were running through her head. All of them, appropriate for any other person.

But Sandor Clegane was not just any other person. "Woof." the girl was struggling not to grin from ear to ear, amused beyond belief by her own sick sense of humour. The man, however, snapped his head at her and glared hard - Though his heart melted, watching that joyous innocence - And it was addressed his way. He barked, rough and raspy, before going to his end of the ring.

"Not exactly a prince charming..." Sansa looked skeptical, and slightly disgusted. She wished only the best for her sister - And the Hound was not the handsome knight she wanted Y/N to fall in love with. Clearly, in no way, that monster of a man could be gentle and caring with a noble lady, lest of all, Y/N - Right?

"He may not look as handsome as Loras, Sansa - But his heart is in the right place. More or less." the girl chuckled, watching the dog miraculously taking down the Lannister Lion. "I would choose him, over all knights across Westeros, and beyond." Sansa couldn't comprehend the weirdness of her statement; Perhaps she was still shaken up after all the insane things she did in the jousting court.

The final, however, did not take place, as Loras Tyrell yielded before the match could begin - He did not want to fight the man who saved his life - Thus, Sandor Clegane had won the Jousting Tourney held on the Name's Day of Prince Joffrey. The feast at night was what everyone was truly waiting for - But Arya refused to participate, and Sansa and Jeyne were hovering over the lemon cakes and gossiping about the pretty knights. Y/N had no babysitter job, so she went looking for Sandor. Half of her expected him to be drinking his victory away at the feast - The other, to stay by Joffrey's side. None were true. She found the man drinking all by himself, at the end of the feast, having growled and snarled away any drinking companion.

Smirking to herself, Y/N nonchalantly stepped to the very end of the feast, and she stood in front of him. She hoped she would be towering over him, while he was sitting, the same way he always shades her with his height. Alas - He was far too tall, either way. "You have fought valiantly today, good Ser." the man growled in annoyance.

"Must I bite you, to make you stop calling me that?" he seemed genuinely disgusted by the idea of being called a knight.

"O, my, Ser~. Court me first, before you speak of such indecent implications." the man snapped his head up, and looked straight into her beautiful eyes. His beard was wet from all the ale he spilled on himself while drinking his sorrows away.

"That is a very dangerous thing to say to a drunk man, little fox." the man warned, only to see the enigmatic grin on her face.

"I am saying it to you - Not to any drunk man." she giggled, a nasty impish grin on her face, watching him get riled up so easily. "Ever since I left the North, my sense of self-preservation has been completely depraved. Mayhaps I am in need of a loyal hound to protect me, when I cannot." he took a sharp inhale.

"You intentionally got yourself in front of my brother's sword. I'd say 'depraved' is too light a word. Nonexistent is a better fit." the girl looked away, a guilty smile on her face, before she sighed.

"Loras is the same age as Robb and Jon. I did not see Loras there. I saw Robb. I saw Jon." Sandor's heart dropped. The little fox wasn't in love with Loras - She was so madly protective over her younger brothers, that she ended up shielding another female's cubs. He thought all women were the same - Damsels in distress, afraid, frail and so on. But he was wrong. The little fox may be all that, but she's also fierce and with such a strong love for her family, that she would do anything. Now he felt guilty for thinking ill of her.

"I'm not saying what I did was not stupid. It was. If it were not for you, both myself and Loras would have died out there." she admitted, and the man was soberly attentive. "But my siblings are too innocent. They are still children. They did not see how awful the world can be. I want to protect them and that innocence of theirs, for as long as I can. I want to see them happy." she explained, taking out the rose and twirling it around her fingers. "Don't think me altruistic - I am doing it for myself. I live vicariously through them. My happiness comes from their happiness." she smiled bitterly, further confusing the dog. "You can call me all synonyms existent for the word - Stupid - And I will accept them. But that erases naught how strongly I feel about protecting my kin... And..." she bruskly turned in front of the man, and extended the flower intimately towards him. "That even though you cast away the title, you are one of the very few people, in a sea of knights, who deserves that title. And, whether it means anything to you or not, you have earned by deep respect and appreciation." the man was speechless for a while, but then he slapped away her hand.

"What do you think a knight is for, girl? You think it's all taking favors from ladies and looking fine in gold plate? Knights are for killing." the man snarled at her, a look of self-hatred on his face. Drinking always made him even more of a bitter and eroded man than he already was.

"I think black suits you rather well - Although, I would want to see you in shining silver, or elegant gold." she did not let go of the rose. "Knights are for killing, yes, but today, the knight before me used his power to protect me."

"There are no true knights, no more than there are gods. If you can't protect yourself, die and get out of the way of those who can. Sharp steel and strong arms rule this world, don't ever believe any different. Today, you should have died. You just got lucky. Same as that other lad. Woman, child, elderly or man - None of these matter, in the eyes of a killer." he reprimanded the girl harshly, yet she only seemed to smile at him - That smile was defiant of his words.

"I don't believe in Gods, nor altruism. I believe not in humanity, nor the genuine good of mankind. I have seen many, I have faced even more, yet there are far worse things out there, of which I would be terrified to witness." she spoke softly, stepping close towards him. "Yet when I saw you there, in front of me - Protecting me against that monster of a man..." her voice was much softer. "I felt safe."

Sandor, with his inebriated mind, was so, so close to just grabbing the girl and smashing his lips to hers - He wanted her so bad. He needed her, more than he needed air to breathe in his lungs. He did, however, grab her arm and brought her to sit on his knee - Yet he only damaged himself and his psyche further, as the imagery of the beautiful girl being flushed against his chest, was doing things to him. He really needed to go to a tavern and fuck some whores, and soon. "Are you done?"

"I want to give you the rose back." the man was confused. Surely, favour can't be returned. Was this her way of rejecting him? Of telling him that, even if she did love him, her noble status prohibited her from being with him? "Red doesn't look good on me, and roses are for fair maidens." her smile disappeared, and a solemn, nostalgic look took over. She looked devastated and anguished, in spite of the facade she tried to keep together.

"You are one." he saw her shake her head, smiling bitterly.

"I am not." her reply was cold cut like a blade in winter - Though whose heart ached more, was uncertain. "Red roses are for fair maidens, destined to fall in love with a strong knight that will protect her." she said, getting up from his leg, placing the flower gently on the table in front of him. "You are one. But I am not. Love is not something that I am deserving of." he could not understand what she was saying. It was only gibberish and the ramblings of a silly girl. Still, she turned her back to him. "Good night, Sweet Sandor. I truly wish you all the best in the world. You are a fine man. Better than most." her silhouette was trembling softly. "You are the Knight that my young self dreamt of all her life." her voice held a melancholic vibrato; and she walked away, leaving the Hound all alone, as he's always been.

He wanted to think and understand what the hell had that all been about, yet no matter how much he tried to think, he failed at finding an answer. He never prided himself with being overly intelligent, perhaps that was the reason why he couldn't comprehend. He wasn't up to her mental capacity, like The Imp was, nor was he anywhere as wealthy or high in status. Or, even better - He was not as pretty as the Knight of the Flowers - After all, he was ugly, and disfigured. Not that she ever had any problem looking at him - Her gaze never shied away from him, and with that sweet smile from before, he even had... Hope, mayhaps.

But it had all been for naught.

In his heart, however, he was unable to sever the bond he had between himself and the sweet girl whom he had lost forever.

She did not avoid him though, despite that smile never making its way to her face. She was deathly worried, every second of her existence. Sandor was as ruthless a beast as never before, and he cared little for anyone standing in his way, including her father's own men, whom he helped slaughter. Things were getting rougher. Eddard Stark was imprisoned, and the Stark girls were in grave danger. He worried for them, without realising. But what could he do, when King Baratheon is dead and Ned Stark, the single remaining man who wished for true justice, was sent to the gallows, forced to admit to a lie he never committed, in front of the whole city.

Up on the pedestal, he looked down at the dirty crowd. Beggars and whores and disgusting fleas. Next to him, he could see Sansa, all prettied up, and almost proud of the deal she had made with the Queen next to her. Y/N, however, was keeping King Joffrey deep under her gaze. Glaring at him. It looked as though she was suspecting something ill to be happening. Ilyn Payne was there too. And Littlefinger, and Maester Pycelle, and a few Golden Cloaks. He wanted to reach his hands out, put them on the girl's shoulders and keep her steady - He was afraid she might lash out and get herself killed somehow. The father looked at his two girls, before hanging his head and daring to confess whatever that was to confess.

Joffrey spoke about Sansa begging him to send him to The Wall - And Cersei too. The Hound found out this way that Y/N, too, pleaded mercy for her father - It was no wonder, he thought. What other deal could you make with a mad child like Joffrey? Alas, their judgement and feelings were subject to mockery. "Ser Ilyn - Bring me his head!" as soon as the King ordered, Sandor's arms grabbed Y/N's body, immobilising her before she could throw herself out there, to die with her father. "LET ME GO, YOU STUPID DOG!" her insults were desperate, but the words did not hurt him. Her pain did. It stuck the blade deep in his heart, and then twisted it around hard. "DADDY! DADDY, NO! STOP -- DON'T DO IT! DON'T KILL HIM! DADDY!" she was not the cunning and enigmatic little fox that was perfectly calm, collected and calculated. That was a little girl, crying for her father. She was a child in his arms, wriggling and struggling to slip from his grasp, but no matter how close she was to getting out, he grabbed her again and brought her to his chest.

"Don't look, Y/N. Don't look." but she was far too desperate, and when the the longsword was brought down, in one swing, Eddard Stark's head rolled to the ground. Y/N stopped moving - Perhaps, she even stopped breathing - And she fell lax, only the Hound's arms holding him. "No." she was heard by no one, except the dog, who held her tightly. "Y/N - Y/N, look at me." he tried to turn her around, his hands on her face - But his heart stopped, seeing her face, sheer agony and hopelessness in her dead eyes, and her face drenched with tears. One arm was securely holding her body up, wrapped around her waist, for she held no more strength for once; And the other hand was gently holding the back of her head, his fingers through that shiny scarlet hair of hers - As scarlet as the blood of her father, running in thin ribbons down the pedestal.

"He's dead, Sandor. He's dead. What's the point anymore?" he was at a loss of words. How was he to comfort a girl, after she just watched her beloved father get killed, in front of the whole King's Landing - All because of the capricious nature of the boy king?

"He died, for you and your sisters to live. That's the point. Live. For his sake. For the little bird's sake. She needs you." the quivering of her lip and the way she tried to bite down roughly on it did not stop her body from shaking from the sobs. She knew, better than anyone, the torture she was going to face in the many, many days to come.

"Everyone needs me, Sandor, and they have me - But who do I have?" her question was so desperately heart breaking, that despite his better knowledge, he found himself blurting an answer he never thought would come out of his filthy mouth. A statement that only made the little fox start sobbing openly, burying herself in his chest, relishing in the feeling of his arms around her broken body.

"You have me."

The lions were ready to rip apart the young wolf pups, and the dog held no real power to protect either of them. At least, Sandor thought, Y/N might feel better, knowing that the youngest one had escaped. Maybe, only. The blatant mocking and disrespect could simply be ignored, The Hound thought. Even if Joffrey made fun of Eddark Stark in front of the girls. They looked dead, but at the same time, vengeful. He was afraid either of them might act up stupidly.

One day, he accompanied the King on the bridge, where he wanted to admire the heads propped on lances, serving as a grim reminder for all traitors. He taunted Sansa - And what a fool the little bird was, she wanted to push the bratty King off the bridge, to his death. While very satisfying, Y/N would go insane, if she were to witness her own sister's death as well. Perhaps he had called the sisters separately to mock their father, reveling in their raw emotions? Was humiliating them and bringing them such pain, his pleasure? Definitely.

Thus, there she stood, tall and proud, as if nothing bad had ever happened to her in her life. She had easily masked over her pain. Now, he wondered - His mind flew to that night, after the Tourney - What awful things could she have experienced, that she claimed to not be deserving of love? More, to be able to hide away her true feelings so well?

He watched Y/N looking up at her father's head - It almost looked alive, she thought. Sleeping. She didn't need Meryn Trant to force her to look at him. She was content on her own. No matter how much he was taunting her, she did not speak. Even if she did spare him a glance, it was defiant, and deep. Piercing, like a hawk staring at its prey. When he smiled, she knew he was mocking her. “Your brother is a traitor too, you know. Just like your father. And so are you and your sister.” he turned Septa Mordane’s head around. “I remember your brother from Winterfell. My dog called him the lord of the wooden sword. Didn’t you, dog? Made fun of how he needed a girl to protect him.”

"Did I?" the Hound replied. "I don't recall." Y/N refused to even spare him a glance. In fact, she did not react at all. She remained unmoved as a statue. His words came back to literally bite him - And hard.

It angered the King that she wasn't afraid of him. How dare she? A stupid little cunt, defying him? Outrageous! "Ser Trant, teach this traitorous wench what happens when she defies my orders." without any hesitation, Meryn Trant stepped almost perfectly between her and Sandor, and with those metal gauntlets, he struck her - Once, and then twice. She did not let out a single whimper, nor sound. A single, thin river of blood went down her chin, from her busted lip. "Still don't want to speak to me? Go on. Ser Trant, continue until she apologises for defying me." Sandor was disgusted with the white cloak before him, who dared call himself a 'Knight', using all his force into slapping a woman. Though, he shouldn't be one to judge - A member of the famed Kingsguard, was watching an innocent person getting beaten up, and he did not stop it. A real dog would never watch the person he is loyal to, getting hurt, and act naught.

He watched Y/N lose balance from the force behind one of the blows, and she fell to the ground, a single gasp of surprise being heard. Seeing Trant ready to strike her head again, he rushed to grab his hand. "She spoke. You're getting His Grace's schedule behind." Meryn snatched away the hand from the Hound's, and went to sit next to the King.

"Huh. I suppose you're right, dog. I was enjoying myself so much, watching a traitor cunt getting the treatment she deserves, that I have forgotten the course of time." the King marched past her, only to stop. "Ah, before I forget - Mother says that we have to marry you off soon. I'll think of someone really nice for you. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. I was thinking that you might be missing home - Perchance, the bastard son of Lord Bolton would make a good match. Betray your brother even. Or... Some stinky, homeless old man from the sewers of Fleas Bottom would be far more fitting?" the King laughed tauntingly, marching towards the Throne room, with Meryn Trant behind him.

Sandor watched the girl get up, and gaze fondly at the high drop - Pondering, for a small amount of time, the pros and cons of throwing herself and ending things already. The man took out a rag from his pocket and reached out to dab away the blood welling from the various shallow cuts made on her face - But it was slapped away, and she stepped back. "So much for protecting me." she muttered monotonously, walking past him, no doubt back to her room, where she had locked herself into.

He wanted to go over to her room, but she never answered the knocks. He wanted to grab her face again and make her look at him - To tell her - How in the world could he go against the King's word? It would get them both killed - It won't help anyone. He can protect her from anyone, but her greatest enemy - The Lion. Not even the new Hand of the King, Tyrion, who was her friend, could save her. The one time he had barged into her chambers, he had seen her drinking with the Imp, and upon questioning, he simply came up with a petty excuse, and left.

Why did she want to speak to the Imp, and not to him? Did she truly hate him so?

Unbeknownst to him, he wasn't the only one drinking her sorrows away - Like most people in King's Landing, Y/N, also, fell pray to the vice brought upon by Tyrion and his sweet wine from Highgarden. She knew she was wrong, lashing out at Sandor for not protecting her, and even more wrong for not apologising. She was hurt then, and continued to get even worse - Yet that wasn't even a proper excuse. Some day, she will bribe the dog into her chambers, with the smell of luxury alcohol, and a much needed apology.

Days later, he stood next to the throne, protecting the King. An audience around. Something was going to happen. To his dread, there she was again, walking slow, and with her head up. The make up on her face made wonders in covering the fresh, healing wounds on her face, yet her beauty still looked busted. She was made to kneel on the ground and look up at the King, who held a crossbow at ready, aimed at her. He could only look down at her. He could see there was no fight in her eyes. She looked absolutely dead. Void. One of the King's relatives began to tell her of the crimes her brother seemingly committed - Obviously, all of them exaggerated beyond belief. "Killing you would send your brother a message. He could not protect the one that protected him. I am to marry Sansa, you know? But you? You have no value to me." the King was smirking and having so much fun. "But my mother insists on keeping you and marrying you off to someone. Get up." but before the King put the crossbow away, much to everyone's shock, he fired it at the lady.

Sandor himself, as well as everyone present, flinched in shock at the unexpected occurrence - While the ladies screeched or gasped, and the guards all oh'ed, the Hound found himself unable to breathe. The crossbow arrow had precisely fired past Y/N's ear, so very close to grazing her temple, and it bounced a few feet behind her, on the ground. Few war-hardened could stand still after getting so close to death; Y/N herself, though fighting her shaking body, her shallow breaths, the picked up heartbeat and her trembling lip. She was doing a wonderful job, getting over her terror.

Sandor could almost feel himself sighing in relief - Only internally, of course. He was so happy she was alive after that bullshit. She deserved better than all this shit happening to her. "Are you not going to thank me for sparing you? I did not have the same mercy with your father." she said nothing. "If you insist on being a mute, perhaps I might as well cut your tongue off. You have no use for it, anyway." his hand was up, and was ready to give the order - She had finally spoken.

"I am undeserving of your mercy, Your Grace. I have nothing to thank, nor be regretful of. The one who deserved your mercy was my father. As you so brilliantly spoketh, I have no value in this greater political game. Whatever it is that you have in plan for me, I will simply accept and not object." the King was ready to take offense - But the ending made him smirk.

"You are saying you're ready to accept any man to be your husband, yes?" the girl did not speak. "If you're so eager to serve - Then serve my dog!" the King's laugh echoed through the place.

"But... Your Grace... The Hound is a white cloak. He swore an oath." one man warned the King, but he dismissed him.

"I don't care about oaths. My dog has been serving me loyally for years, hasn't he? Doesn't he deserve to be satisfied by a pretty noble lady? Whenever he wants, however he wants - Without needing to stoop so low and crawl in some common tavern whore's bed?" no one could speak a word - Everything the King was saying was madness - A kind of madness that should never be spoken in the holy throne room. "You know, Y/N... Ser Sandor Clegane here is renowned throughout the Realm for how ruthless he is. I am sure you'll serve as a good chewing toy for him. At least, until he's lost interest in you. All dogs gets bored of their broken toys, sooner or later." neither of the two involved could speak.

For one, Y/N felt her mind spin indefinitely. Marriage? Again? She had hoped to escape this fate - Alas, with the Lannisters on her back, she had no way of running away. She did not mind - It was Sandor. Though he could not protect her, at least she knew, he had a good heart... Even if it was hidden, buried very, very deep inside that guarded chest of his.

The Hound, however, was nervous - He did not feel often this emotion, but he truly did now. Not only would he have to marry the woman he had grown so fond with - But he would put her in even more danger, because of it. Not that he had any say in it, for the matter. At least it wasn't some old and sleazy old shit lord who would beat her up or what not. With him, at least she was safe. She was not going to see him.

"Thank you for your blessing, Your Grace." Sandor suddenly heard the little fox speak - A voice soft and forced, and she gave a short courtesy bow.

"Now that we've got that settled - I was wondering - Perhaps The Hound should be the one to make a statement. First off, he should discipline his future Lady Wife into not defying her King so much. Secondly, we need to make a point - To her traitorous brother." and here came the trouble that Sandor feared. "Go on, dog. Don't make me say it twice." but Sandor felt reticent - His own legs were refusing to move - How could he actively harm the person he was supposed to protect. "You'll regret it, dog. Ser Trant - You do it. But leave her face - She has to be pretty for the wedding day... And the bedding ceremony." she wanted to take out a dagger and carve her own heart out, just hearing such a thing.

Meryn Trant, unlike Clegane, did not hesitate. He marched, once again, in front of the girl, and with a tightly clenched fist, he punched the girl's gut, cutting out the air from her lungs. As she instinctively stepped back, he took out his sword and used it to hit the girl's leg, making her stumble. Sheathing it back, the knight roughly brought her up, before landing another hit - And another, and another. All of them with such intensity that Y/N lost count. "ENOUGH." Y/N heard the Hound rasp. The sound of metal clinking was approaching.

"Ah, finally ready to join the show? Hit her until I've grown bored." the King was laid back on the throne. For once, Sandor wanted to rip his head off - Looking down at the small, frail girl that he wanted to hold in his arms and protect. She looked even smaller than before, and even more vulnerable.

"Forgive me, Y/N." the girl knew that he chose to do it himself, rather than have that hateful man use all his strength to cause her harm - Alas, she wasn't sure whether the Hound knew or not, the passive strength which he possessed.

"Get it over with." she muttered - And though she was not prepared for the blow, the strikes from the man were just as painful as the ones from that awful man before. She wanted to cry from the pain, but she couldn't give anyone the satisfaction. Soon, she lost count of all the hits that were going to paint her body in all sorts of colours - But some time soon, at least - It will all be over.

"Ser Meryn - I think Lady Y/N is overdressed. Don't you want to make a pretty gift for your fellow white cloak, and unburden his future lady wife for him?" Sandor wanted to bash his skull against the nearest wall, watching the sadistic grin of Trant as he got behind his Y/N and ripped the whole back of her dress for the audience to see - In front, the fabric was toppling over, and she could only hold it with her hands, so it would not expose the corset and her skin. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't even look at the girl. Her soft whimper of fear and shame drove him crazy. How much more before someone finally stopped this? "Come on, dog! I have given you a gift - It is unwrapped, all for you to claim! Go ahead, it's all yours!" Sandor, for the first time in his life, was praying - Praying that someone would finally step in and put a stopper to this idiocy.

The saving grace did come - Clegane never expected to be grateful to the Imp - Alas, it was him to whom he should light a thankful candle at the Sept later on. "WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?!" his powerful voice boomed, as he stomped all the way to Y/N. "Clegane. Trant. What kind of knight beats a helpless girl?!" the dwarf glared at the two white cloaks.

"The kind who serves his King - Imp!" Meryn spat at the Hand of the King. Sandor did no utter a single word.

"Easy, now. We don't want to get blood all over that pretty cloak." the man accompanying Tyrion mocked the ser.

"Someone get the girl something to cover herself with!" at once, Sandor ripped that stupid white cloak and carefully wrapped it all around her form, holding her close to his chest. He never wanted to let go of her. She was forever trapped in his arms.

"She is your soon-to-be sister-in-law. Have you no regard to her honour?!" Tyrion reprimanded his nephew.

"I was punishing her! Besides - She's The Hound's future wife! He can do whatever he wants with her!" Sandor refused to listen to any of the witty threats that the Imp threw to the King - Even the quarrel about the marriage. He only realised that he existed again, once he went to their side. Y/N turned her head slightly, and nodded. "Thank you, Tyrion." it was small and sincere, and only for the two men to hear. The Lannister nodded back, appalled by the situation.

"I apologise for my nephew's behaviour. Clegane, escort Lady Y/N back to her room." though Y/N turned around to walk on her own, Sandor picked her up with ease - She looked like a child, wrapped like a cocoon in her own blankets. It would have been a romantic scene, were it not for what happened a little ago.

The walk to her room was silent as a lake. None spoke a single word. He placed her gently on her bed, and with one last look, he turned to leave. "Are you leaving already?" the man stopped in his tracks, yet did not turn. "It wasn't as bad as when he did it. Thank you." somehow, that pissed the man off more - He wasn't angry at her, but at himself.

"Why the hell are you thanking me for beating you up?" his voice was more like a dog's growl. Angry. Not only that he was forced to lay his hand of his woman, but also because she was thanking him for being gentle. Fucking outrageous.

"A small price to pay for being on the wrong side of a war. I cannot ask you to compromise your life, for a failed attempt at protecting me." her humble understanding sent him into a rage. "And... I hadn't had the chance to apologise for lashing at you back then. I didn't mean to hurt you, but I did - And for that, I am truly sorry. I deserved what happened today."

"If you want death, go throw yourself off the bridge. I won't stop you. But don't bullshit me with that selfless act - It doesn't impress me." she didn't even flinch from his risen tone.

"Joffrey said our wedding is next week. Are you going to wear festive clothing?" she gave a weak smile.

"I did not hit you in the head - Why are you babbling?" he asked, watching the girl fumble with the cloak.

"I am fine with anything. As long as it is you. I meant what I said that night. I suppose even my fears and insecurities, I must face and accept." she spoke softly. "You have secrets, as well as I - Yet neither of them were spoken. I... Am willing to... If so are you." she must be referring to their past, Sandor realised. He pondered over - He couldn't stay much for the day - He still had that little cunt to serve. The wedding night could, however, serve as a perfect pretext for drunk story telling.

"Fine. But I bring the drinks. I don't drink sweet mead for women." he grumbled, ready to exit the room. "Don't leave the room without me." and he left.

A week went by past, and Sandor found himself, disgusted, in the middle of the Sept. Sandor Clegane was getting married. What a fucking sick joke. He looked down, from the stairs of the Sept, at the ridiculous crowd. And there she stood, led by the King - His beautiful wife. She was dressed in a beautiful dress of pure gold - She looked like the Sun - Or like the fire itself, with her long hair, going down her shoulders in crimson waves.

But she didn't smile. Not even the littlest bit. Even when looking up into his own, dark eyes, Sandor could only see sorrow and pity.

She had the grey Stark cape. The Septon spoke whatever gibberish these old people of so called faith did, before he heard that he may cloak the bride and 'Bring her under his protection'. Bullshit. If he could, he would fight the whole realm - Yet he cannot. That means he cannot properly protect her.

Y/N turned her back to him took her hair away from her back, making it easier for him to fumble with the Stark cape... And put the Clegane one. It fit better - Yellow, Gold, same thing.

Nah, it wasn't - Not even he could say that the cheap yellow of Clegane could outshine the gorgeous gold of her dress. Long, and with long sleeves that covered her arms, yet her hands were covered in jewellery - As well as her neck, ears and hair. She was a jewel herself.

But she hated yellow.

Still, he was forced to put that cloak over her shoulders - It was so large over her form. Yellow did not make her happy.

At last, the septon continued the ceremony, and it ended even sooner. With the cloak thus removed permanently, the two went to the feast that was to last until well into the evening. They sat at the main table, only the two of them - But she did not eat. He couldn't either. Instead, he downed drink after drink, while she sat there, unmoving. He could see the look of sorry on the Imp's face - As if he was apologising to her for allowing things to get so bad, so easily. Her little sister was hiding in some corner, afraid for her own fate. She had never been to a wedding, had no idea what could happen. She was far too little to properly attend her sister's wedding, so she does not know its horrors, nor of the shameful bedding ceremony.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the growing desperation inside his bride's heart. Finally, she reached for the sweetest summerwine, and she drank it faster than even he. Was she willingly getting drunk, to escape the humiliation? Smart move. Painful, but smart.

The longer they stood there, the more he could see Y/N checking the time of day. The more it got darker outside, the more fidgety she would get. "What are you so afraid of?" he turned his head to her - She seemed genuinely shocked to hear that question.

"Do you have any idea how absolutely humiliating that... That THING is, for a woman?" she was perplex, but Sandor was clueless. "You... You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?" now, the shock was greater.

"If you'd stop speaking so damn cryptic, I might know, little fox." he downed another ale, clearly left in the dark to her fears.

"The... The be-..." he never heard her stutter, nor was she afraid when she was being beaten or threatened. Now, she was horrified.

"THE BEDDING CEREMONY!" Joffrey's voice greatly overshowed her own - Sandor heard the girl curse and freeze, for the first time since they've known themselves. The same word, repeatedly. She glanced down, almost as if she wanted to hide forever under the table.

Clegane, too, cursed himself - How could he forget that fucking stupid tradition, of all things? He just wanted to get this stupid fucking wedding over with, and keep Y/N forever in her fox cage, away from harm. "No ceremony." came the growl of the Hound, watching Y/N get dragged away by the King. She was petrified.

"We must respect traditions, dog." Joffrey laughed merrily. "Come, everyone! Unburden her, pick her up, and carry her to her wedding bed! Get rid of her gown - She won't be needing it any longer!" Clegane watched as his bride snatched her hand away from the King's, and hugged herself. She looked left and right, for predators. She wasn't a little fox anymore. She was a scared little fawn, begging for help.

"The groom said he doesn't want to partake in the ceremony. Let him have it." Tyrion spoke up, but the King's word is law.

"The dog is loyal to me, uncle. If I tell him to fuck his bride right here, he will do so without question. Don't make me order him so. Or maybe I should?" the little Imp tried to intervene again, but the King pushed him aside. "Ladies - Attend to my dog. They say he's well-gifted down there." the King laughed harder, watching the women giggle and surround the Hound, only for him to aggressively growl at them and scare them away.

"There will be no bedding ceremony, Your Grace." Sandor's voice was more clear now - The King did not have it. Though Joffrey feared his dog to a certain degree, he knew he couldn't go against his direct order.

"There WILL be, if I say so." with a simple exchange of looks, Sandor understood the gravity of the situation. He arose from his seat, aggravated, as soon as he saw some of the men praying on Y/N, and even daring to ruin that dress from her body. Thankfully, she wasn't uncovered, or he'd have stomped them alive. Instead, he swatted them away like flies, and he picked the girl up, stepping in front of the King.

"No. Ceremony." the dog's snarl sent a shiver down the King's spine, watching his personal guard carry his wife away from the venue, and back to her own room. Once again, no word spoken - Though her trembling was shaking his arms, and she was visibly distraught by what had happened.

Perfectly mimicking what happened a week prior, Y/N was placed on the bed, and Sandor remained on his feet. "Go ahead, change in your sleeping clothes. I'm leaving." the man spoke, ready to turn around and exit - Only to get his arm grabbed, and pulled back.

"Don't go." she said. "Stay. Please." she spoke in that sweet voice of hers, as she guided him on the bed. Kneeling behind him, her slender arms wrapped around him, and her forehead rested between his shoulder blades. "I'm afraid."

"No one would dare hurt you, now that you're under my protection." not even he did truly believe those words.

"Then... You want to leave?" she sounded so broken and meek, as if it wasn't her.

"A little ago, you were afraid of the ceremony. You want me to fuck you now?" her fingers gripped his clothing tighter. "I won't bother you. I'm going to the tavern. Drink and fuck the night away or something."

"Already going to other women?" she muttered lowly.

"I ask again - Do you want me to fuck you?" he was met with silence. "That's right. You don't." he spat bitterly. "No woman in her right mind would want to fuck a disfigured, ugly monster of a man like me, without being paid well - Let alone marry one."

"That's not true." she retorted, offended. "That's not the truth at all."

"Then what is the truth? If you want to deprive me of getting my dick sucked, then at least give me a good reason." the girl thought a bit, before she spoke. Though she didn't appreciate the vulgar tone, even she couldn't deny how her heart yearned for him strongly.

"Reputation might matter little to you - But it could be my death. What do you think is worse - Knowing that the King's dog had his way with the Stark heiress, who was his wife - Or that he left her on their wedding night, to sleep with common women in a cheap tavern." she had a point - Sort of.

"You're right. I don't care about a reputation, and neither should you." she was silent again, for a longer time. "If you don't have a real reason, I'm leaving." he was ready to get up, but her hold on him was far greater.

"I don't want you to spend the night with anyone else but me." his breath was cut off from that bold statement. "I... I've been wishing to say this to you, since that time you bandaged my wound by the river. I've been falling in love with you progressively ever since." her voice sounded ragged and ashamed - Humiliated to admit she was in love. "You are the only man I ever loved." were it not for his keen hearing, he wouldn't have heard her last whispering.

"How many times must I tell you not to say such words to a drunk man? Do you have any idea the power you hold, looking like that - Your dress is half ripped off, and you think you're safe with me?" in an instant, Y/N found herself laying on her back, her wrists pinned to the bed, and his hair tickling her face. But the man saw clear anxiety gleaming into her fearful eyes, and tried to rip himself off from her - She stopped him. "I thought I didn't scare you. You can't even look me in the face anymore. Next time you lie to me, at least make it more credible."

"I was married once." she blurted out - Sandor frowned his brows, inching backward. "I was. I was -- I was married once. A while ago." Clegane looked at her, and saw a broken woman, hurt countless times. "Maybe it sounds petty - It's no different than things that many other women go through. I went through this humiliating... Thing once. It wasn't fun. It wasn't... Anything good. None of it was." she spoke, slowly pushing herself in a sitting position, and although she looked at Sandor, she looked... Timid. "I didn't last long. I wanted to divorce. I was not allowed to. I killed him." the coldness with which she spoke made the hurt even more transparent. "Only dad knew the truth. I never told anyone else. It was a burden on him - But he did it for me. He felt responsible. Poor man." she muttered softly. "I meant it when I said you were a good man, Sandor. I feel... Lucky, even - To say that, out of all the possible men in Westeros, it is you, that I married. I was really, really lucky. Joffrey does not know the man you are." though she lacked coherency, her words were hitting his weak spot. "I never felt safe since then. I wanted to just rot away, alone, in the safety of my home, surrounded by my family. I would become an old crone that teaches young girls how to embroider. It was fine." she said, making a small pause. "But with you... I was..." the last word, the man grunted himself.

"Safe." she nodded.

"I never felt safe with a man that wasn't my family." her confession made Sandor's mind and heart go crazy.

Sandor got off the bed. "I'll go get booze." the girl stopped him. To his surprise, the girl hopped off the bed and he comically saw her struggling to move a large shelf - Behind it, a whole alcohol cabinet was revealed.

"You have free access to my secret alcohol stash. Only the best ale and wine. Courtesy of Tyrion Lannister." met with a sheepish smile, Sandor barked a laugh, and took away all the bottles and put them around the night stands. Easily moving the shelf back in its place, he motioned for the girl to get dressed and get back in bed.

But seeing Y/N dressed in an almost sheer-white nightgown proved another challenge for the Hound. Her body looked perfect, her silhouette, though barely visible, was highlighted into the dim light of the candle, as she sat there, leisurely, with a golden goblet into her hand, sipping whatever sweet summer wine she had from Highgarden. Mostly, she told him about good memories she had of her family, with her parents, her brothers, her wolves. She looked genuinely happy. Sandor wanted to make her happy for her entire life. Somehow, he had to get her out of here. There was no way a flower of the North was going to survive the scorching heat and the deathly stink of the South. She would wilt.

Unexpectedly, Sandor spoke laso. "I was a mere child. I loved knights - Foolishly deluded myself, just like your little bird of a sister did. A wood carver came by our house. Gave my brother a toy knight - It had joints and it could move, thanks to the strings. I wanted that toy - Gregor didn't care of it. But he did not want to share. Instead, he grabbed my head and he pressed me to the fire like I was a nice juicy mutton chop." Y/N's eyes were wide and her jaw agape. "He killed our sister. Then, our father. All the inheritance was to fall into his hands. I run away and swore servitude to the Lannisters the very same day. I was just a squire back then - But at least I realised that all oaths are just that - Horseshit." was it the first time that Sandor ever told his past to anyone? He wasn't sure, not did he care.

"I hope your child self feels some comfort, knowing that your present self became the most honorable knight there is." the man scoffed, with bitter annoyance.

"Your pretty words won't help me, little fox." he spoke. "I want to fuck you more than a little ago, all the same. Just because I can control myself, doesn't mean my thoughts aren't lingering." she wasn't threatened - Instead, she chuckled.

"It would be rather awkward if mine own husband thought little of me." she admitted, a half-amused smile on her face. "Besides - It is our actions that define us, not our words. With the amount of swearing you do, you could be champion - Alas, your heart is real. And I can feel it being genuine to me all the same." Y/N felt his hands on either side of her legs, and they were trailing up her soft skin, until they reached her thighs - Sandor was well between her legs, fully clothed, while Y/N could only blush - She then felt herself being pulled towards him, her head resting comfortably on the pillow.

"I know things that those fancy, pretty lord don't even dream of doing to their ladies. So shameful that even a whore would blush like a maiden. I can make you mewl mine name through the night, and people through the realm would wonder what happened." the Hound rasped from above, his face so dangerously close to hers, drinking in the dazed look she had, all flushed from the dirty words he spoke. "So stop tempting me with that pretty mouth of yours, or I will do so many sinful things to you that the Sept will explode - And I will not regret any little thing." and he said all that, kneeling comfortably between her legs, prowling over her petite body. She's never felt her heart beating so fast, in anticipation. Maybe it was her inebriated brain, or just him - She wanted him more than she needed water to drink - But she couldn't possibly voice something so embarrassing.

Instead, before she could even react, he felt the man's hands going up her body, until they reached her upper back - And he lay his head on her chest. And he started snoring softly.

Y/N was completely bewildered, tried calling out his name - He was fast asleep. "Seven Hells." the girl muttered under her breath. "Sandor, I'm cold. At least put the blanket over." no response. "You're kinda heavy." still, his weight on her body, as well as his arms wrapped around her gave her comfort and a sense of safety. "I'm still cold thought." he definitely was in a very deep sleep. "Damn it."

No matter how much she wished for for sleep - She couldn't. The heavy form of her husband was weighting on her, the pressure, uncomfortable. She could only look out of the window, in search for the moon, hoping it would move already. To pass the time, she warged, linking her mind to her darling Meleys's. She saw her as the protector of the pack - The leader seemed to be Nymeria. Lady was seeking comfort from Meleys, always glued to her side. The sweet sister wolves were protecting one another, as they should have. Y/N was content with that knowledge, although, she would have hoped they were back in Winterfell, or maybe even aiding Robb with his war. Grey Wind was always the leader, back home. She wondered now how Summer and Shaggydog were doing, protective over their sweet boys, just like their loving lady mother. Alas, Ghost was up there, at the Wall, with Jon - Will she ever see her brother again? She dearly hoped she would. Jon was always so nice - A true brother to his siblings. Robb saw him as a true brother, and Arya, especially, was so fond of him. Bastard or not, he was still their brother - And she was protective of her kin.

Y/N was forcefully awoken from her dream-like state, and going back into her own consciousness, she was met with the kind yet dazed dark eyes of The Hound. He looked down at her - And then even further down - Before meeting her face again. "Slept well, Lord husband?" the vixen teased him.

"Best sleep of my life." he muttered, rolling on the side of the bed. Y/N felt now, again, the sweet feeling of breathing.

"At least one of us slept." she chuckled weakly. "You're damn heavy." she explained, once he frowned, questioning. "And you didn't give me the blanket."

"I'm warm enough for the both of us." he muttered begrudgingly.

"It wasn't all bad though." she hummed, sitting up on the bed. "I at least had good company and no fear creeping on me. That beats the cold by far - Not to mention - I had enough time to see what Meleys was doing." Y/N grinned down at the man.

"You were dreaming, yet you say you did not sleep. You're so full of shit." but the girl's mischievous smirk begged to differ.

"You simply are unaware of the magic that a child of the North possesses, so no need to call me a hypocrite." she retorted hastily.

"Whatever, girl. I have duties to attend to. Go on, playing with your pups in your dreams." the man gruffed, raising from the bed. He didn't bother even looking in the mirror to fix his disheveled look. He would have to return to his room and dorn the white cloak either way.

Before he left - The door wide open - He heard her speak. "Some day, I shall hold you to your promise." Sandor looked back, unaware of the promise of a drunk man - Yet that cheeky grin spoke a thousand words.

"You're as much of a fairy as I am, little fox." the man barked in amusement, closing the door behind him. She liked keeping him on the edge, it seemed. What a lass. Flashbacks of last night came forth - Y/N, all beautiful, in that dress of hers, hair done and make up pretty - Yet looking like an alluring mess with her outfit ripped as she lay down on the bed, below him. That look in her eyes - The innocent yet wanting look of an unaware lady with great promises from her lord - And those fingers gripping into his clothes. The feeling of her body flushed against him -

Sandor truly needed to find a way to release this tension on his body, otherwise, she'll drive him crazy and completely unable to even remember his name. He always wore gloves - But that night, he did not. He could feel that skin of hers. He never lay with a noble lady - Were all of them like this? Not even Littlefinger's whores were like this, and they were luxury whores. Those slender legs, that tiny waist, her feather weight - How easy it was for him to simply hoist her up with a single hand and do so many things to her. He recalled all the shameful things that he threatened her with -

He didn't want to stop at simple, innocent touches. He wanted to hide his head under that sheer nightgown of hers and hold tightly onto her hips. He wanted to bury his face between her legs and kiss her thighs - And further up, when he's pleasured her once, as he's heard that sweet melody of hers, he will tower over her, unburdening her of the dress, and he will tease her like she's done to him, one hand caressing her face dearly, making her look up at him as his fingers become all wet in her heat - And then --

Sandor stopped and bashed his head against the wall, growling at himself for the far too long moment of weakness - And he hurried to his chambers to change into his armor, to guard that bratty King - But how could his head be focused on standing still and at ready next to the King, when his mind is caught in that wretched imagery of his lady wife?

Days passed and so did night, and though days have been not as cruel for Y/N Stark, yet Sansa was still the subject of her future lord husband's cruelty. Being the betrothed of a bratty king couldn't be easy - Sandor saw the worry in his wife's eyes, and that very concern dripped with every word she spoke to him in private. There was nothing he could do for the little bird that sang like one of those birdies from the Summer Isles. His dear little vixen wasn't tamed - Nor did he want her to be - But he also didn't want to see the king wearing fox fur any time soon. He couldn't protect everyone at once - Heavens knew, he was just a stupid dog, bound by his duty to the Lannisters, yet soul bound to the Stark girl he was married to. A fine privilege that no other man could ever even dream of - Let alone, a member of the kingsguard.

In all ways possible, he was pissing on every vow and oath existent to mankind. And he was loving it.

Sandor was very fine with checking each evening on the girl in her own room, as seeing her reading or embroidering - Or whatever it was that noble women liked to do - As long as she wasn't in the direct way of harm, he was content. She wasn't going out much, unless it was to escort her sister through the gardens - Though even those stank like shit, because of all the waste from Fleas Bottom. Really, that place had to be destroyed and all the people killed. They were nothing but trouble.

There came new reason for worry though, as Sandor found out about the farewell 'party' of Princess Myrcella - The royal family, as well as the Stark girls, as well as the Stokeworths and some others were to see the little girl on her way to the docks, where she would depart for Dorne, soon to be wed to the Martell heir. Going on horseback, through, it was imminent death, and no amount of golden cloaks or white cloaks could flawlessly save the entire retinue - Clegane thought to himself. He was glued to the King - He knew something would definitely happen, should he allow any of the other incompetent idiots who call themselves the 'Knights of the Kingsguard' were left unsupervised. The Queen was flanked by three knights - The same as Joffrey. The Imp had just one white cloak, along with his sworn sellsword or whatever that frail man was - He often saw him in the tavern, drinking and whoring. Y/N and Sansa, however, barely had any real protection - They had two other women with them. He knew one of them was a Stokeworth - The other, he did not know, nor care. His eyes were glued to his little fox and that striking, vibrant green dress that brought out her eyes so well. Sansa was wearing a powder pink, soft and feminine, fit for a fair maiden. A little bird, ready to sing her song. But the other two had similar hairstyles and clothes. Y/N didn't. Y/N kept most of her hair flowing, aside from two braids with flowers - As if she was some flower spirit.

The way to the docks went relatively well, and Myrcella was sent off to Dorne. The way back, however, was not as safe. People were hostile - Aggressive. Angry. They were shouting various things - Their frustrations. Hunger, especially. They kept chanting usurper names, from Stannis to the Young Wolf, Robb Stark, or even Renly Baratheon's name. No surprise, as soon as Y/N heard Robb's name, her attention snapped to the people perched on the walls. Skeleton people, skin and bones, desperate and in need of taking care of.

The first to react was Tyrion, who had Prince Tommen quickly taken away from the retinue. Y/N grabbed Sansa's hand and held it tightly, her other hand checking the simple dagger in her sleeve. She was not allowed her sword, so it was the next best thing. She feared now that she might be needing it.

The riot was started by some woman who went before the King and showed him her dead baby. Sansa gently told Joffrey that she might appease the crowd if he were to give her some money. He was greedy, and barely spared a silver stag - Yet even that coin, he threw in the crowd, for the people to fight over it. Anarchy started as someone retaliated to this mocking by throwing literal shit, hitting Joffrey right in the face. Tyrion shouted at the knights to take the Queen away as fast as possible, while the Hound and the other members of the Kingsguard were focusing on protecting and dragging the King back to the Keep. This left the four women completely unprotected during this madness and forced to witness the High Septon being dragged by the people and ripped apart, limb from limb - Only to completely cannibalize him.

Y/N grabbed Sansa, who was being clinged onto by the other two women, and tried to make way between the many so-called knights, trying to reach the keep. The road was blocked by tens upon tens of filthy men who tried to grab them, and they spewed vulgar words. The eldest Stark lady cursed under her breath and used her dagger, impaling the eye of one who dared touch her little sister, and kicking him away, she ran away with the girls in the other direction, where Cersei was being taken. She couldn't even pinpoint where her Dwarf friend and ally was - She was simply lost, in an ocean of enemies.

By the time they got away, only three remained. Their way forth was blocked by two men, so Y/N backed to her right - The only open way. Only Sansa and Lollys remained by her side. But they were met with misfortune, as the cramped alleyway was a dead end that led into some kind of closed stable, with hay to on the ground and what not. It wouldn't last long. She knew that. "Lollys - Go back the way we came, but turn right. The path that the Queen and her knights took is clear by now." Y/N told the Stokeworth lady, dreading her awful deception. Lollys was a known halfwit, unmarried, a maiden still at three and twenty. She wasn't the most attractive woman in the world - But she did not care. Y/N would even stoop so low, if it meant keeping herself and Sansa safe. The lady, worried, nodded vigorously and ran as she was instructed. Little after she turned towards the path Cersei took, Lollys's scream was heard. Both Stark girls shuddered.

"Why did you do that?!" Sansa grabbed her elder sister, who slapped her hand over her mouth and pulled her flush against the wall.

"Lollys is not my sister. You are. Not keep quiet." Y/N whispered in her ear. She was even afraid of breathing, in fear of alerting the wild men outside. Their safety didn't last long, for one man found its way in this stable. Y/N killed him with ease and pulled his body away from the corridor. Another and another came - But she could defeat them with ease, as they were all defenseless. Though she ordered Sansa to pick up any kind of weapon, she was cowered in a corner. Gods knew, there were plenty of wooden bats even, with which she could defend herself against a single man. She was too far gone. Y/N thought, by now, she'd have gotten used to this hell and would learn to fight back by herself, and preserve her life. She did not.

But she will need to, unless she wants a dozen men to fuck her to death. "SANSA, GET A WEAPON!" Y/N yelled to her sister, seeing more and more men intrude the stables, in packs of two or three - Though she struggled, she killed them. "SANSA! WAKE UP! I NEED YOU!" Y/N kept yelling at her sister, realising how she was struggling to keep the predators away from them.

"I CAN'T! I CAN'T! I'M SCARED!" she was sobbing and shaking in the corner. "WHERE IS THE HOUND?! WHERE IS THE IMP?! WHERE IS EVERYONE WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO PROTECT US?!" she kept on babbling around.

"To hell with everyone - We have only ourselves now, damn it! Get up and fight!" Y/N's words only earned more deep sobs and whimpers - Followed by a shriek.

"STOP! I WILL KILL HER! DROP YOUR WEAPON OR I BASH HER PRETTY SKULL OPEN BEFORE I FUCK YOU BOTH!" one burlier man got ahold of a bat and threatened Sansa. Y/N only looked in horror at her little sister, threatened with death, crying and apologising over and over again. Y/N felt the dagger fall from her grasp, before she was struck hard and thrown to the ground - Not on the hay, but on the cobbled floor. She kicked around and tried to punch, even dragged herself towards the hay, trying to reach the kicked dagger, but also afraid of that one hurting Sansa - But he had his boot over her only weapon - And he threw Sansa to the side, reaching to the Lady on the ground. His hand buried deep into her flame hair, pulled on it hard and rolled the girl over on her back. The flowers were long since destroyed, and the searing burn from her scalp was blinding her.

She felt her hands being stomped on, so she would stop struggling so much, while the other five surrounded her. Two were fully naked, one only shirtless, while the other were beginning to undress. She tried to kick away the one who kept trying to get between her legs, but the naked ones grabbed away at her ankles and knees and pulled them away. For skeletal people, they were awfully strong. "SANDOR! SANDOR!" Y/N didn't realise she was crying her husband's name, still squirming around, hoping to escape, but Sansa felt her heart stabbed. Her strong, ferocious elder sister was resumed to a scared girl, just like she was - And she was calling for help from the ugly beast.

"Don't even think, girl." the one who was sitting on Y/N's hands took out his cock and glared at Sansa, a perverted smirk on her face. "You're next." is this what they deserved for using Lollys as a bait?

Hard, rushed steps made their way through the endless stable-like corridor - The knight saw the glimpse of expensive shoes worn by a woman with pale skin like snow and legs flawlessly sculped. An ugly sucker was on his knees, between her skirts, while another either trying to choke her or keep her quite, covering her mouth with those disgusting ones. He saw Sansa Stark, trembling in the corner - Her blue eyes like the sky were wet like rain - They noticed him, but didn't dare speak a word. They were pleading to him to save the one on the ground.

Sandor Clegane felt a rage like never before - His longsword impaled the churl who dared sit in a place no man should ever stay around his lady wife - All the way to its hilt. If he wanted to impale something, now, he felt what it was like to get impaled back. Sandor cut that fucker in two - Then four, and more parts, all the viscera on the ground, unrecognizable. Pure anger was fueling him as he easily disposed of the other shits surrounding her - And with the bigger one finally stepping away from her hands, she was able to crawl and hide in a corner, holding her hands to her chest. They hurt so much, and the feeling of the crawling hands on her skin - They were haunting her and she wanted to flay herself from disgust. Those hands weren't Sandor's. Those men weren't Sandor. This wasn't their room either.

Her mind was still swimming with incoherent thoughts - Only to squeak and try to hide even further inside the cold stone corner of the corridor upon feeling another touch. "It's over, Y/N. You're safe now. I'm here." Sansa was in deep shock - She had never heard the Hound ever having such a gentle, velvety voice, nor did she imagine a man who looked so sloppy, clumsy and rough, being so careful with someone, especially her sister, whom, she thought, married unwillingly. What about all those rumours of abuse? Had Y/N truly spoken the truth to her before?

Noticing her uneven breathing, Sandor took off his gloves. "I'm here, my little fox. You can open your eyes. There's no more threat now." he cupped her face gingerly, and made her look at him - She looked so broken, so afraid. It was different from the time Eddark Stark died. He wanted to hold her cradled to his chest and rock her, kiss her hair and tell her it's all going to be alright. She's safe with him. She's always safe with him. She looked so weak, so vulnerable, so frail. So very afraid. He knew what happened to her. That night of their wedding when they confessed their woes, it was the only time they truly allowed themselves to open their hearts to another. True and sincere. "Can you see me, little fox?" though she took a while, she nodded slightly. "Do you know who I am?" once again, she nodded. "Do you trust me?" she looked at him long, and his dark eyes twitched with every tears that escaped her eye. He thought that her unresponsiveness meant a negative answer. Instead, he was shocked to see the girl crawl into his arms and nestle herself into his plated chest.

"I called for you." her shaky breath was heart shattering. "And you came." she whimpered. "You are here." she repeated, again and again. "I was so scared, Sandor. So scared." his arms were holding her protectively to his body, caressing and untangling her beautiful hair, kissing it now and again.

"I know, little fox. I know." the monster of a man was so loving and kind to her sister, Sansa thought - The most unlikely man, who pissed on all knights - Was a paradox. The most knightly man in the world. Also, the most gentle. "I will always keep you safe." the man held her that-a-way until he could feel her trembling going down.

"Sandor. I have sinned." she spoke meekly. Those words spooked the man greatly.

"Had any of those fuckers touched you? Did they hurt you?" he asked, fearing the worst - Thankfully, she shook her head. He had gotten there in time. "Then whatever you did, it doesn't matter. You're safe now. We're going back to your room and we're not leaving until you've calmed." he reassured her.

"I lied to Lollys. Made her run away. I used her as bait. I fear for her, yet had no remorse, using her to save Sansa and myself." he had seen that one - Walking dazed, naked through the streets, covered with a variety of... Things.

"She's alive." he grunted, evading any implication. "Anything else doesn't matter now. Let's get you two back to the castle." but her soft whimper proved she was still afraid of the outside word.

"Can you carry Sansa?" the girl asked, struggling to get up.

"No." the man rasped harshly, confusing his wife. "The little bird is not my lady wife. The little bird has wings. She will be fine by my side. The riot has subsided significantly." Sandor's strong arms scooped Y/N into his arms.

"How come we always end up like this?" the girl asked, her arms gingerly wrapped around his neck, her head hiding in the crook of his neck.

"Because I can." he said. "And because I especially like carrying my pretty little fox to bed." though said in a jesting manner, he looked down, and noticed her bashful expression. He wasn't a dashing, charming man - Never was - But whatever he was doing, he must be doing right. Or maybe her brain was simply broken. Who knew. "You have got to stop letting other men ruin your clothes." he pointed out playfully. "The only man allowed to rip your dress off is me."

"If you do that every time you want me, I won't be able to keep up... And seam more clothes. What ever will I do?" slowly, she was finding her voice again - She was safe. The safest she's ever been.

"Sleep all day like the spoiled little vixen that you are and wear those sheer gowns with which you tease me with."

The way back to the keep was surprisingly short - Or maybe it felt that way, being carried effortlessly by the giant man. By the time they arrived, Tyrion looked at the two Stark sisters with eyes and mouth wide open. "Take the little bird back to her cage. She's bleeding - See to her cut." The Hound instructed the Lannister imp, watching Sansa being taken away by her maids.

"Lady Y/N, are you alright?" Tyrion's voice, albeit filled with concern, was sympathetic and soft. He knew his friend as she always was - Defiant, strong, valiant and cunning. The way she was cuddled up in Clegane's arms, so small, so defenseless, powerless - It broke the dwarf's heart.

"She's fine. No harm done. Tell the King I'm off duty today." with a shared nod of their head, Clegane turned around.

"Good job, Clegane." though the Hound let out some grunt as a response, he leapt up the stairs to get into the castle, and back into her room. Her safe haven. The only place she could relatively feel safe - And since their wedding, the chamber he visited the most.

The comfortable bed, the pillows, the blankets - They all felt like a fluffy cloud, keeping her away from any trouble from outside of these four walls keeping her safe. Sometimes, she wishes she would never leave this room, and just have Sandor hold her in his arms forever.

But then she misses her home and finds herself going through the flower garden or Godswood. It was the best thing she could do, in lack of her real home.

Like before, Y/N dressed in her sleeping wear while Sandor took off his armor. Suddenly, he felt so much better with all that weight off him. He was so used to all the knight stuff that he didn't notice the emotional and mental burden pressed on him with each piece of protective metal on him.

The gloves and chest piece especially, were his favourite parts to remove. He could feel Y/N as he touched her, and more, he could pull her against his broad chest where she so loved to nestle herself and fall asleep. She looked like a tiny little fox pup compared to him. It was very amusing. "Sandor - Will you please stay the night again? Stay with me? Forever?" the girl asked in a small voice.

"If you want me to, I will." he grunted, holding her tighter.

"I do." she spoke back.

It was barely the next day that Y/N found out the tragic fate of Lollys, impregnated by half a hundred men - Not only did Y/N felt her vision blurry and mind go hazy, Sandor was sick to his stomach as well - He didn't care for the Stokeworth halfwit - It would be stupid to weep for every tragic soul in Westeros - But the mere thought that, should he not have been there, the same could have happened to his little lady, it made him want to castrate every man who dared look her way. He can't handle the simple idea of any harm coming her way - She's suffered enough, hasn't she? Now she was safe, and he will continue to keep her that a way. She had a bad marriage - He knew the truth. He knew she was the one who poisoned her late lord husband - He did not care. He was going to show her there was no need to fear, that he was no way the awful beast that the fucker was. He was just a dog - Stupidly loyal and aggressively overprotective.

He had seen her bruised body, after Joffrey ordered not only him, but others to beat her, not on a single occasion - He felt guilty and ashamed - How could fate be so cruel, to force him to lay his hand on his own lady wife? The king was a cunt, but he was powerless before him and his stupid family. He kissed every inch of unnaturally coloured skin - Blue, black, yellow, and every other colour that a bruise can get. And only he knew how much she hated yellow.

It was in this room that he first danced, in the dim light from the candles, as Y/N hummed a pretty song from the North and she embraced him, swaying with him, the way she her her mum and dad dance one night, on the anniversary of their wedding - They thought they were sneaky, outside, at night. They weren't - Not to her, at least.

It was in that room that the girl first kissed him, and she caressed his burnt, ugly face, planting lots of little kisses all over - He felt like his soul was departing from his body from the heavenly way he was feeling. It was also, in this room, that he first saw her naked, in his arms - The suffocating feeling of love and passion that was overflowing from his body, watching her melt, and every sweet noise that escaped those lovely lips, were taking him to the edge. It was then that he realised that none of his previous addictions were able to get his mental stability back - They were all distractions from the miserable life he was feeling. He needed no alcohol to drown down his sorrows, no depraved whores that would do the most shameless things to him, nor did he need to waste his money away on baseless gambling. He needed only her love - So, so desperately, as without it, he would die.

It was here that he first had a woman urge him to relax with his head on her lap, as she read to him whatever story book she found around - Albeit, not without various pragmatic comments about its content - All which made her laugh. That night, he remembers he was so comfortable, at ease. He felt inner peace, which he's never felt before - And he fell asleep, with Y/N's hand stroking his hair and caressing his face. He genuinely forgot how ugly and disfigured he was, whenever she was around - It was like she was not seeing the hideousness that he was seeing.

And here it was that he could drink wine or ale without feeling the need to get drunk to death, all so he could watch the graceful way in which she embroidered or fixed his ripped clothes - Yet she never touched the ripped Clegane cape, yellow and black. She told him that she would use it as fuel for the fire kindling in the fireplace. Her long, slender fingers could create such small and meticulous thing - While all he could do was destroy everything that stood in his way, with those huge, calloused, rough hands of his.

And wood carving. That, he could do. It involved a sharp blade - He was good with those. Hence why, he had gifted her a statuette of Meleys, her red wolf, whom she missed so dearly - And then, it was, that she told him the secret of the Stark children and their warg abilities.

Finally, it was here that Sandor finally started longing for a place of their own - Small and cozy, away from the chaos and threats of King's Landing - He was willing to return with Y/N back to her home in Winterfell if she would have him, but anywhere was fine. He would build the house himself, and every piece of furniture - Would make the house impeccable and warm, and fit for the most special woman in the world - This change only happened once he heard her yearning for home one night, saying how she wished the two were back there, where it all began. Back when things were still safe and harmless.

He had all the time in the world to think of that - As a Knight of the Kingsguard, as a white cloak and the King's personal sworn shield, he was forced to serve for life. All the same, he was not supposed to marry either - Not that he ever thought he would - Yet here he was, a married man, and very much content and happy with this intertwined fate.

This messed up peace was disrupted when King's Landing fell under attack from the enemy, Stannis Baratheon himself. It was late into the night, and all the noble women were sitting in the same room as the Queen - Who was drinking wine and masking her worry. Y/N forgot any animosity for Cersei Lannister, and asked to drink with her - Though surprised, the Queen accepted, and even poured some of the sweet wine into her cup. Sansa was pacing worriedly around the room - Her sister only bothered to throw a comment or two her way, but she already knew they were pointless. It was either death or living, yet everything went down to the army's prowess and their strategies.

The Hound had told her before, the castle was being kept safe by a bunch of cunts. Old veterans, new recruits, squires, and whatever cloaks they could find - Every competent knight was fighting in the Riverlands, with Tywin Lannister. It was the perfect strategy, Stannis attacking them from the Blackwater Bay - But Tyrion told her of his witty strategy involving wildfire.

Of course, after a few too many cups of wine, Y/N became restless and gripped the sword she kept for protection. Dark Sister never failed to keep her safe in every situation. She went outside - And from the distance and that height, she could see the ships approaching swiftly - Only for a huge explosion of green flames to erupt throughout the black sea. "O, Sandor..." the imagery could have even be called artistic and beautiful, in its own tragedy and death - Yet Y/N's mind was only on Sandor, and how terrified he must of all that fire. Her sweet Sandor.

The fire was everywhere, ranging from every shade of vibrant green, to strong yellow. Oh, how she hated that awful yellow. She really needed to find Sandor - And fast - Before he loses his mind because of all this madness. "Y/N, what in Seven Hells are you doing here?!" she heard Tyrion's voice, stopping his commanding for a second, his eyes bulking in bewilderment at seeing her, with her sword in her hand.

"I have to find Sandor. Do you see that fire? He's going to lose his mind. If you want The Hound to keep on fighting, Sandor Clegane must be snapped out of his traumatic fear." she explained, standing tall and scanning for the man.

"I understand - I will look for him - But please, for goodness's sake, go back to safety! Only the Gods know, if anything happens to you, Clegane would get over his fear of fire and actually burn the whole King's Landing to the ground!" the dwarf tried to warn her. The King was there too, satisfied after the wildfire explosion, but incredibly terrified of war.

"I don't see the problem." the girl muttered, simply uncaring of any repercussion she might face. "Ah - There he is." the girl pushed the two out of her way and jumped off the stairs, sprinting and killing the enemies that approached her dog. "Sandor! Sandor, snap out of it! You're fine! You're safe with me - Sandor, everything will be alright!" the girl yelled at him, hoping to be heard through the ocean of screams. "Sandor, look at me! My love -- Look at me!" with her free hand, she brought his head down so she could touch her forehead to his own, bringing him some peace before she pulled him into a deep kiss. "It's me. It's your little fox. Snap out of it, my love. Wake up." she pleaded and pleaded - And a kiss was his only reply.

"I need a drink." he muttered, clearly shaken.

The Hound grabbed her wrist and brought her to safety, close to the gates of the castle where Tyrion was. He can't believe that he began this war, threatening the army that he would fuck their dead bodies if they die with a clean sword - Yet here he was, losing his mind over fire. Pathetic. Just like the water the page offered him. He threw the deerskin back at him, before downing the wine in one go.

"Can I get you some iced milk - And a bowl of raspberries too?" the dwarf asked, appalled by their greatest fighter being so vulnerable - He was seeing their defeat before his eyes.

"Eat shit, dwarf." Clegane snarled ugly at him.

"You're on the wrong side of the wall!" Tyrion reprimanded him harshly.

"I lost half my men." Sandor spoke. "The Blackwater's on fire..." his voice was shaking from fright and shock, memories of his own burning marks flashing painfully.

"Dog! I command you to go out there and FIGHT!" Joffrey shouted at his own protector.

"Leave him be!" Y/N shouted back at the offended King. "Can't you see he's traumatised?! What good would throwing him back out there do for you, if he'll only die? Who will protect you as good as him? There's no one out there who would devout his own life like that for you!" the girl reprimanded the boy, as if she was scolding her own brothers - Bad move, Tyrion thought, not only as she had no right to scold the King, but also, because they truly needed Clegane to fight.

"I'll have you killed, you stupid bitch. You ruined my dog! You tamed my vicious, rabid dog! I'll put your head on a spike, right next to your traitor father, when this battle is won!" Joffrey yelled back at her, almost frothing at the mouth.

"You're Kingsguard, Clegane! We must beat them back, unless they're going to take the city. Your King's city." Tyrion spoke pointed to him.

"Fuck the Kingsguard." this comment took aback the Lannister and the Baratheon King. "Fuck the city." he continued, before his eyes glared at Joffrey. "Fuck the King." throwing away the empty deerskin, he threw his arm around his girl and took her away from there.

"That was incredibly brave of you. And such a turn on. Did you see Joffrey's face?" the girl's giggled did nothing for the man.

"Fuck that bratty cunt's face. We're leaving the city." the girl stopped dead in her track. "You heard me. Let's get your sister and let's go."

"You... Know the implications, don't you?" she asked, knowing how, should he be found and caught, he would face execution.

"Die here in the fire, die here from being a dumb idiot, or die somewhere out there - Dying is dying, the reason matters little." there was truth in his words. "We are going North." he heart leapt, and Y/N immediately flushed with life and she was now the one dragging him away, to Sansa's room.

"Sansa!" Y/N called out, unwillingly frightening her, almost dropping her doll. "We are leaving the city." she spoke in a rush.

"What?" her sister gasped, her gaze going between the two. "Y/N, you must have drunk too much with the Queen. We can't leave - That's... That's treason. We can't." but the elder Stark girl rolled her eyes.

"You are not speaking courtesies to the Queen, Sansa. You are speaking to your sister. Fuck any courtesy you know. The city will fall. Let's go back home." Y/N tried to persuade her, but even her words didn't reach her.

"I'm not coming." her words felt like a guillotine blade - Sharp and just. "Please don't try to convince me. You two are married - Even if you didn't want to, you would still follow your lord husband. But I'm not going. I have to stay here." she felt a sharp slap on her face.

"Are you out of your mind?! If the city falls, there's no way knowing what Stannis might do to you! And if the city does not fall - Joffrey and Cersei will continue to torture you. You want that? To become the most tragic Queen in history? To have that diabolical brat abuse you with every chance he gets?!" she yelled desperately at her sister, who turned away, clutching her cheek.

"Just leave! Leave, or I will tell the Queen of your plot!" Sansa's voice was wavery - No doubt, she was crying. "We are not like each other. I- I was never like you. Arya was. Arya would have picked up a weapon when you were attacked, and she would have protected you, while I just stood there and cried. Arya would have ran away with you, just like she did when dad died. Arya would have been as defiant and reckless as you. But I'm not like you. This is who I am. This is my path, and I'm willing to go down, being who I am." her words were melodramatic and absolutely tragic.

"Sansa - The Others take me - If you do not come, I will hit you over the head, make you faint, and drag you out of this hell myself. So just come willingly already. Fuck the Lannisters and fuck this forsaken place. This is not where we belong. Our place is up in the North. It always has and it will always be so. Come on." Sansa did not budge.

"I will hate you forever if you do that. I will even kill myself. Leave me out of your plot, and I will pretend I had no idea you left. Now go!" the young Stark's conviction put her sister's at a loss. What was she supposed to do? She wasn't going to remain here - But if she left, only Tyrion remained to protect her, and there was only so much he could do.

"You're making a grave mistake, little song bird." Sandor warned the girl.

"So are you. Keep her safe out there. Now leave." it was with heavy feet that Y/N left her sister's room, and both the Stark girls felt shattered, being torn apart from each other. Sandor took Y/N to the stables, from where he retrieved his beautiful black horse, Stranger, and another one for the girl.

"I'm proud of you, Sandor." the girl spoke, her hand reaching out to cup his face. "You were very brave today. I'm happy that you're no longer tied to some child who does not appreciate you." the man scoffed in self-deprecation.

"I don't need to hear any of that. I just need to get as far away from that fire as possible." he muttered, leaning into her loving touch.

"Sandor. I love you." her voice was sweet, but her kiss was sweeter. He did not say a single word, yet he almost felt guilty for not doing so. "You don't have to tell me anything. Your actions speak far louder than any words existent." he barked a dry laugh.

"You and that cunning, silver tongue of yours. You're lucky I didn't cut it yet." he helped her up, before the two ran the hell out of there, towards the North. The whole night they were tireless and galloped away through the forests, avoiding the King's Road, in case anyone might want to follow their traces.

Her closest relatives were either to the far left, in the Westerlands, where Robb was fighting, or up and to the right, in the Eyrie, where her aunt would be waiting. From the two options, neither were great - But she wanted to see the heir of Winterfell. Thankfully, the Young Wolf was winning his fights and keeping Jaime Lannister as the perfect captive. And once they arrive at his camp, she can finally call Meleys, Lady and Nymeria back to her. It was perfect.

Sandor and Y/N stopped riding, once they spotted an inn. "When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives." Y/N spoke, getting off the horse. "That is what dad always told us. Yet now, look at us. All of us. We are spread all over Westeros. We should have never left Winterfell." she sneered, still angry for leaving her sister behind.

"You've got a dog protecting you. The rest of the pack can be gathered. As long as we're far away from that shit city, we can do whatever the hell we want." the girl hummed in agreement. The two propped the horses outside and went to warm themselves and get something warm to eat.

"We've got a long way ahead of us. Are you ready, dear?" he let out a grunt, eating away on that chicken leg. A man sat on the bench opposite of them - A dashing smirk, and a flower in his hand - He extended his hand between the two travelling companions, who were more confused than anything.

"O, what a sight to behold! Your beauty exceeds any flower that I hath seen!" the young lad spoke, and Sandor looked at Y/N - Her hand was covering her mouth as she tried not to laugh.

"You want to such my dick, is that it?" Clegane asked the young one.

"Dick?" he repeated the unknown word. "Cock." the dog clarified.

"Ohhhh." the young one let out a dumb exhale of realisation. "Dick. Yeah, I like it." he nodded, understanding, and liking the sound of the word.

"I bet you do." Y/N couldn't hide her giggles anymore. The poor boy thought he was the one amusing her.

"My fair maiden, please accept this token of courtship - You are, by far, the most beautiful lady that I have ever seen." though the girl's smile was wry, she had no idea how to respond. Instead, Sandor's large hand grabbed the flower and destroyed it in his fist, before glaring harshly enough as to scare away the poor lad.

"She HATES yellow." Sandor smirked, remembering the moment he threw away his house's cloak, permanently renouncing it and any titles that were associated with his Clegane name, along with his hound helmet. From then on, he was not Ser Clegane, nor The Hound, or the King's sworn shield, a member of the Kingsguard, or some stupid cloak.

He was just Sandor, a dog taking care of his lovely little fox and whatever wolf pup she decided to take care of.

And only Sandor knew how much he loved red.

#game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane imagine #sandor clegane #the hound x reader #the hound imagine #the hound #got x reader #got imagine #got

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oweninadaydream · 2 months

Text

𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧!𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Steve and you interrupt your lazy afternoon to discuss a very serious (or is it?) matter...

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Modern!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 : pregnant!reader, established relationship, just pure fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 777

𝐚/𝐧 : I had lots of fun writing this at like 2 am lol. Hope you enjoy it! ☺️💐

Steve was in the kitchen, trying to cook dinner as fast as he could before your cravings had the chance to change and make you suddenly disgusted just by the smell of what he had been preparing for more than an hour. Today's delicatessen consisted of Hawaiian pizza with a side of pickles.

Normally, you would hate pineapple on pizza (you just can't stand mixing sweet and salty like that) and your hatred for pickles was known by all of your friends (specially by Robin, who had to hold up your hair as you vomited because she once gave you a bite of her sandwich which happened to contain the infamous ingredient), but your boyfriend wasn't willing to contradict his pregnant girlfriend who was extremely sensitive.

He was pulled out of his thoughts after hearing you call his name. "What's up, sweetheart? Everything okay?" he asked from his position.

"We need to have a very serious talk right now" you answered in a monotonous tone.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the end of Steve Harrington. After he felt that his heart had started pumping blood again, he hurried to the living-room where you had been chilling for most of the afternoon. You looked fine, there was nothing on fire and your stomach seemed as round as the last time he had seen it, so what was going on?

"Go on, I'm listening love" he encouraged you to begin revealing your thoughts.

"The baby is due in a couple of weeks and we haven't even decided which movies they're gonna watch in English and which ones in Spanish" the stress in your voice was easy to detect. Steve looked you straight in the eyes and he could swear that he had fallen in love with you all over again in that very instant. How could you be so adorable?

"Oh honey, I love you so so much" he cooed while leaving small kisses all over your face "we can discuss it now while the pizza is in the oven if you'd like" he offered.

Your native tongue was Spanish and ever since Steve and you started thinking about having children, you had known you'd raise your kids to be bilingual "They will not be no sabo kids, not on my watch".

Steve was more than thrilled at the thought of mini versions of you and him walking around, babbling in some strange form of spanglish. He had taken up Spanish after meeting you, and even though he was not the fastest learner, his disposition had taken him very far in his journey to be closer to you through language.

"Okay, so do you have any ideas?" he asked "Actually, yes I do" you quickly changed your expression to show enthusiasm "I've got a mental list of some non-negotiables. First, Enredados"

Steve hummed in acknowledgment as he had already guessed you would say Tangled, your mom's favorite Disney movie. Your mother didn't understand much English so this was a logical choice, as she wanted to watch the film with her grandchild and bond over it.

"Then, we've got Tarzan" "Tarzan?! The guy that sings the songs in the Spanish version is the same guy as in the English one, Phil Collins's accent is obvious. Also, y'know, it was my favorite movie as a kid" he tried to argue in a calm manner "...Well, I guess you're right. They can watch that one in the original version" One point to Harrington.

"What if you suggest one? I wouldn't want to impose" you commented. "Don't worry cielo, you keep going and I'll think of one or two more for me to choose" the fact that the first words he learnt were the pet names you liked the most was just one of the many proofs of his love for you " All right!!! So I had thought about El Rey León, Tiana y el sapo, Bichos, Aladdín..." you then proceeded to list almost every animated Disney movie. Steve could have stopped you at any point but the enamored haze clouding his thinking process wanted to indulge in your every desire.

The oven started beeping, alerting both Steve and you that dinner was officially ready. "Let's go, it's time for dinner" "But, what about the movies?" you pouted "Mi amor, we can do whatever you want in regards to our child's cinematic experience" "The bedtime stories can be in English, your dramatic interpretation of The three little pigs will impress them for sure" you suggested after realizing that you had monopolized the whole Disney films industry and feeling bad about it "Thank you, darling. Practice makes perfect"

Happy girlfriend, happy life, right?

P.D : Phil Collins ate and left no crumbs in the Spanish soundtrack, we appreciate him in this house !!!

#oweninadaydream #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x fem!reader #modern au #modern!steve harrington #fem!reader

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novasintheroom · 4 months

Note

Hellooooo!! Could you write about how Vash and wolfwood would react to reader being jealous, or the boys getting jealous over the reader please? Either would be great!

Thank you so much!!!

So, I only did Vash with this one since I'm in a Vash mood. Hope you enjoy a jealous reader!

Now part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3.

010: Jealousy

♡ Pairing - Vash x fem!Reader

♡ Word count - 0.7k

♡ Warnings - none

His shoulders are broad – that coat hides it well. You watch him rub shoulders with some of the locals at the bar. They pat his back, congratulate him on a job well done turning those bandits out of town.

“First round’s on me,” a woman purrs next to him. She rubs one of his shoulders. His ears go red, and you turn away with a silly gut feeling reserved for jealous teen girls. Luckily, your meal order comes.

“Alright,” the man says, setting down two large sets of plates, “got your house special here, and two bread bowls with our daily soup.” He wipes his hands and gives you a smile. “That’s a lot for a lady!”

“Oh, uh,” you blanch at the slight insult, “my friend, he’s…” you gesture toward Vash. The woman is hanging off his arm now, and it’s hard to tell if his coat or cheeks are redder. Still, he gives her a charming smile. Your stomach curdles. You thought that was your smile.

The man looks toward Vash and clicks his tongue. “Wouldn’t want to be him. Gabby has a way of getting into your wallet when you aren’t looking.” Alarmed, you stand, but the man laughs and waves you down. “I just mean her looks, darlin’. Fellas always throw her gifts and presents when they walk into town. Our hero might just find himself some double dollars short if he lets her keep at it.” He pauses and smiles, “‘Sides, maybe he deserves it for leaving you alone.” He looks you over and gives a wink. “Couldn’t be me if I had someone like you around all the time.”

Now you feel hot. A shaky laugh escapes, but you’re still slightly charmed by his obvious flirting.

“Here,” he continues, and slips a fat slice of cake on the table. “It’s not much, but you’re a hero like him. I saw the way you tricked those bandits into going outside. Wouldn’t have turned out nearly as nice if you hadn’t.” He takes your hand, bends down, and presses a light kiss to your knuckle. The man thankfully waves and goes back to the kitchen afterward.

You don’t know why, but you’re touched by the gesture. Not often people even notice you around when Vash saves the day – or ruins it, depending on who you are. You hum and pick at the cake, thinking of eating it before Vash can even smell it.

“Who was that?”

You jump at his voice and watch Vash slide into the booth. He gives you a smile, but it’s off. It’s one of his reserved ones, the one where he isn’t sure about something. “Oh,” you say, “just the waiter from the kitchen. He was just chatting.”

“Looked like flirting to me,” he comments. His mouth skews, his eyes watch the waiter go back through the swinging door with a strange intensity.

And just the way he says it, after he had a woman nearly in his lap not two minutes ago…An ugly little monster crawls up your throat and says, “Maybe it was.” You stab a bit of the cake and take a bite. “Wouldn’t mind getting picked up by him. Good lookin’.”

Those broad shoulders slump, and you feel no joy in the way his eyes sadden. “Oh, well…” he clears his throat and picks up a fork for his soup, “good for you!”

Any mirth you got from his reaction is short lived. He swirls the fork in his bread bowl, picking it up and letting the liquid dribble off the prongs, then doing it again. It's like you kicked a puppy. You sigh and get up. Damn his thick skull. Vash watches, suddenly afraid you're leaving (where? To the waiter?), but instead you sit beside and hip-check him to make room. “We’d better eat this cake before Gabby gets her grubby hands on it, too.”

Your shoulders brush, and you feel more than see him perk up – at your closeness, and the promise of cake. He’s too easy to please, you think. But your forks pick away at the cake before your dinner, and as you both fight over the last piece in a duel of utensils, you think you’re easy to please, too.

Especially when you have that charming smile all to yourself again.

#trigun stampede #trigun #tristamp #vash the stampede #writing #self insert #reader insert #vash x reader #nova writes #vash the stampede x reader #150 bullets #anonymous #requests #nova answers

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ohyoru · 6 months

Text

✿ mutual confession under the rain ft lyney

author's note; initially he didn't give much impression to me. butthenhisstoryquesthappenedandimnotthesameanymore so yeah! i'm very normal about this rizz lord

lyney knew you're special way before he gifted you the rainbow rose during one of his street performances. the way a sweet smile appeared on your face as your cheeks blushed the similar yet softer hue of the flower's petals had distracted him from the 'oooh' and 'aaah' coming from the children. if it wasn't for lynette stealing their attention with her own tricks, he was convinced that he'll make a fool of himself further.

"that's not how a confession should look like, lyney. do better", his sister pointed out on their way back home that evening. "as blatant as ever, aren't you". despite his chuckle, he knew she's right, but he's completely at lost as for how could he make his feelings for you apparent. he's aware that he comes off rather flirty at times, but surely you know that it's just for the sake of performance? oh no. did it ever make you feel uncomfortable that he's behaving like that with just anyone? but the rainbow rose should be an obvious sign because he doesn't give it to just anyone.

he's too deep in his own predicament that he didn't notice themselves arriving at their door, and lynette locking the door behind her after she entered, making him bumped him head at the door. "until you get on with it, you're staying outside", from the other side of the door, the sound of her footsteps faded. "ly-lynette! let me in. it's going to rain out here!", he looked at the darkening sky frantically, but the door stayed locked. it's just his luck that freminet was away on a mission. so lyney walked away, hoping that the stroll will help give him some answers. moments later, raindrops trickled down and steadily got heavier.

he took shelter under the awning of a nearby shop, shivering slightly, but his mind was more occupied with a more pressing matter. he wasn't sure how long the time had passed when someone approached him. "may i take a shelter here too?", the rainbow rose was kept close to you, slighty wet. he quickly stepped aside to make room for you. "i didn't expect the rain to come down this heavy". you said that, but he noticed the familiar smile on your face, "you don't look too upset about it, my lady". gazing softly at the flower, you admitted, "i've always loved rainbow rose for its symbolism. to receive it from you really made my day".

that made his heart skipped a beat, and words spilled out of his mouth before he could even stop himself, "then i'll give you more tomorrow, and the next day and the days to come, as long as you're willing to accept it". silence filled you two as the mutual confession sank in. "i'll treasure as much as you're willing to give me, lyney. thank you," you hid your flustered face behind the flower, and he felt like he could faint from the intensity of the moment and how cute you're being. from her room, lynette sipped her warm tea, knowing beforehand that locking the door was the right thing to do.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #lyney #lyney x reader

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linkemon · 23 days

Text

Love is an open door (Neuvillette x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴀᴛ ɴᴇᴜᴠɪʟʟᴇᴛᴛᴇ'ꜱ ᴅᴏᴏʀꜱᴛᴇᴘ. ᴜɴꜰᴏʀᴛᴜɴᴀᴛᴇʟʏ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪᴇꜰ ᴊᴜꜱᴛɪᴄᴇ ꜱᴛᴜʙʙᴏʀɴʟʏ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴏʀ. ꜰᴜʀɪɴᴀ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴏʀᴍᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʟᴘ ʜɪᴍ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴅᴇ ꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ] ᴄᴀɴ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴅᴏᴏʀ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴀ ᴡɪɴᴅᴏᴡ… ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ:

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ᴀ ᴅɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ ᴍɪx. ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰʀᴇɴᴄʜ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ɪɴ ꜰᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴇ. ɪ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʟɪᴍɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ.

ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴄʜᴏɴ ǫᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴀꜱɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ʜɪɴᴛꜱ ɴᴇᴜᴠɪʟʟᴇᴛᴛᴇ'ꜱ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ, ꜱᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ.

ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ. ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴍʏ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀɴʏ ᴛɪᴘꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ.

Low-flying books never posed much of a threat to Fontaine. Or at least that's what the Palais Mermonia staff thought until last week.

— How long will it take? — whispered the young girl to herself, carrying a stack of documents.

She didn't have to wait long for an answer.

— Where's the next part?! — A dramatic voice came from behind the door and immediately after that the latest novel from Inazuma flew out the door.

The pages fluttered in the air. The older friend pulled the younger one back. They miraculously avoided a sudden encounter with literature. More specifically, the best-selling recent romance novel from the Nation of Eternity.

— Lady Furina, unfortunately that was the last part. We have contacted Yae Publishing House but Zhenyu has no plans to publish the next one yet because it is a new series. — The man behind the door explained patiently.

—Ah! You don't understand the seriousness of the situation... It was not an ordinary read but a feast for the imagination. A sensually stimulating treatise on momentous deeds. Two tragic lovers brought together by fate. Their emotions could not see the light of day. Now they suffer and they don't even know if fate will put them on a common path again! Without the next part, my life becomes BORING! Only ugly, naked and gray reality!

The Archon spread herself helplessly on the soft sofa. Her head hung down and her leg dangled steadily behind the backrest. Her outfit seemed to blend in with the blue upholstery. Thus, it created a sense of unity with the furniture. A very woefully dissatisfied unity.

— Yes, but there's nothing we can do about it...

—Toodaloo! — she suggestively asked the employee to leave the room.

Just as he was about to cross the doorstep with a sigh of relief, the archon's voice stopped him.

— STOP!

He just hoped he wouldn't have to look for another series. Lady Furina had probably read every possible drama and she didn't even want to hear about the bad ones.

— What is Mademoiselle [Reader] doing here again this week? — She narrowed her eyes as if that would help her find the answer.

Indeed, one of the main employees of the Opera Epiclese slipped through the door. Furina has performed on the stage of the opera many times. But she couldn't say she knew her particularly well. The woman did not deal with art but was a kind of a link between the palace and the court. In addition, she was usually up to her's ears in court documents. It was even more special that lately she had appeared here almost every time the archon threw another part of the series out thru the door.

— Mademoiselle [Reader] has been very busy lately. I think she's overwhelmed by it all. She was even sick recently. It seems to me that he has many matters to discuss with Monsieur Neuvillette and…

— I SEE! So that's how it is! — Furina jumped off the sofa as if she had gained new energy.

— What do you mean, my lady? — asked the confused man.

— Isn't it obvious?! It's just a cover. She must be in love with our dear Iudex! — she announced, snatching a plate with a piece of cake from the table. She stuffed the cake into her mouth. She looked extremely happy.

— I think it's just...

— Shhh. — She pressed a muffin into his hand. — You must not stand in the way of love. Its doors should be opened wider. And if I know our dear judge, he will close it right in her face. Luckily, I am me and I'll play the best doorman possible! — Saying this, she ran out the door.

— This can't end well. — The man rubbed his temple. Eventually, however, he ate the cupcake and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

***

— It should be around here somewhere… — [Reader] mused aloud.

— What are you looking for, mademoiselle [Reader]?

The calm, familiar tone could only belong to one person. Besides, hardly anyone stayed to work after hours at Palais Mermonia. Especially considering that no new trial has been announced yet.

— Good evening, Monsieur Neuvillette.

Indeed, she was not mistaken. Iudex of Fontaine emerged from behind the glass door. His step was as stately as ever. Even despite visible fatigue after a long day of work.

— I'm looking for my umbrella — she explained, casting a longing glance toward the empty umbrella stand.

There was a heavy downpour in Fontaine. The woman wouldn't say it was the worst rain she had ever seen. However, the thought of what she would encounter when she emerged from above the small roof did not fill her with optimism. She was sick recently. The vision of such a quick repetition of the entertainment was not in her plans. Sneezing on government documents didn't seem like a good idea.

— Was it long and black? — asked the man.

— Exactly! Have you seen it?

— I noticed it in my office before I left. I didn't know it belonged to you. I figured whoever the owner was they were probably already gone.

— Hmmm... Honestly... it's a bit weird. I don't remember taking it inside with me. I could have sworn I left it here before I left.

— If you wait here, I'll try to find whoever has the key today...

— Don't worry. Everyone left and went home a few minutes ago. I'll take it tomorrow.

[Reader] and Neuvillette stood in complete silence for a moment. The woman seemed to be fighting with herself. Thick, heavy drops continued to fall onto the sidewalk. Waiting wasn't an option but she could enjoy a few more seconds of dry clothes.

— Ahem — Neuvillette cleared his throat after a moment — you're going to get wet. Please at least accept my coat.

The material was thick, soft and warm. The woman hesitantly accepted the clothes.

— Then you'll get wet and I couldn't let that happen — she said. — Maybe we could share?

— We could share? — the man repeated unconsciously.

Was this what people did? He wasn't sure. He knew it was just a nice habit. On the other hand, in many years of his life he had never had the opportunity to give his clothes to anyone. And he certainly didn't try to share it.

— You once said that you liked the rain, monsieur, but it would be too much to let you go without anything in this downpour.

[Reader] threw half of the cloak over his head and covered herself with the other half. Each of them was only partially covered. It wasn't the best idea but at least it seemed fair. In this way, they moved briskly down the stairs.

Neuvillette didn't remember exactly when he told the woman that he didn't mind the rain. He didn't think anyone would remember that. And he tried not to give out too much information that could lead anyone to his true identity. It wasn't important anyway. It's not enough for anyone to say anything. Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice [Reader] barely keeping up with him. After all, he was much taller than any resident of Fontaine.

One careless move was enough. [Reader] felt the concrete step slip away from under her feet. She tried to save the situation with her hands. The only thought in her mind was that she could have at least done it halfway and not almost at the bottom of the stairs like the worst klutz. She mentally prepared herself for the pain. However, it did not come. Monsieur Neuvillette caught her around the waist before her face hit the hard ground.

— Everything's all right? — he made sure, which was answered by a nod of the head.

They continued through the city streets. Few people were walking in this weather. Those who decided to do so, however, stared with interest at the couple hidden under the coat. Some recognized the judge. The woman glanced at her companion but as she suspected, he didn't seem affected by it. She just hoped there weren't any Steambird journalists among the passersby or they'd make the headlines tomorrow in the stupidest way possible.

A child flew past them. The blonde seemed to be about a dozen years old. A strange tin creature ran past him. If she wasn't mistaken, he looked like a penguin.

— Hydro dragon, hydro dragon… — he began quietly.

— …do not cry! — [Reader] concluded loudly.

He seemed scared that she was even paying attention to him. With his head down, he ran away in a direction known only to him.

— Oops, I think I scared him. — She looked at her companion.

It occurred to the man that maybe he wasn't the only one who didn't always know exactly what and how to say things.

— Does Mademoiselle believe in this legend? — he asked.

— I think dragons likes rain but sometimes I wondered if it is actually their tears. If one is still here, looking after Fontaine like Monsieur and Lady Furina, then I think it's natural to want to comfort him in his sadness.

It was the first time he had heard such an answer. Usually people just thought it was a magical incantation to stop the rain. Something that was supposed to drive away evil. The rain they didn't like. His feelings were an inconvenience to them. And keeping the sometimes unknown emotions in check was difficult. The mere fact that he often made parts of the city miserable due to the weather already put pressure on him. To keep everything under control and be calm at all costs.

— I think the dragon would appreciate your concern — with these words he left [Reader] at the door of the apartment and then continued through the wet streets of Fontaine.

***

— Welcome to Chioriya Boutique, how can I be of service? — the standard phrase echoed as soon as [Reader] crossed the threshold of the store.

She couldn't see the saleswoman. The shelves were filled to the brim with bales of material. Only in the next room, among the mannequins, lace, corsets and crinolines, did she find familiar faces. Interestingly, it wasn't just Eloffe she expected to meet.

— Mademoiselle [Reader]! — Sedene and Sigewinne greeted her in unison.

— Good morning. What kind of shopping is this? — asked the woman, leaning gently over her much shorter companions.

The melusines looked intently at the open drawer. Bows and ribbons were arranged in neat rows. [Reader] had no doubt that Eloffe had spent a lot of time getting them all looking right. The multitude of colors and shapes made it difficult to take your eyes off them.

— We're trying to find a gift. We can't decide which ribbon is the prettiest. Fortunately, we have today off, added Sedene.

Melusine straightened her uniform. It was a habit she picked up from the office, where she spent her days at the reception desk. Her clothes were wrinkled from sitting for a long time. She scratched behind her ear.

— Which one do you like? — she asked [Reader].

[Reader] looked ahead, going into nystagmus. She didn't know who the gift was supposed to be for. She assumed in advance that it was a different melusine. Perhaps from the village. It happened that friends who had adapted to life in the capital visited those who preferred peace and quiet in an underwater village.

— This one is quite nice.

A blue ribbon twisted into a bow was decorated with a single pink shell. It wasn't something that half of the fashionable society in Fontaine would wear but the woman knew perfectly well that melusines perceive the world in different, not always typical categories. Considering how closely they were connected with the sea, the choice seemed very good to her.

— We'll take it — Sigewinne said without hesitation. — Monsieur Neuvillette will be pleased.

If the jaw could actually drop to the ground like in the tiny comics printed on the back pages of the Steambird newspaper, [Reader] was sure that's how hers would be. She couldn't imagine Iudex of Fontaine wearing that hair ribbon. It suited the melusines, but him? She looked at her satisfied companions. She didn't have the heart to tell them that maybe it wasn't the best idea after all. They seemed very happy to finally make the difficult decision. Soon the tiny box was in little blue hands.

[Reader] had her work uniform repaired. To her surprise, there were still melusines standing in front of the store.

— Actually, I have a favour to ask of you, mademoiselle — Sigewinne began. — I have to get back to the Fortress and Sedene doesn't have time either.

— I don't? — The blue melusine blinked.

— We don't — her friend emphasized. — That's why I thought maybe you could bring a gift. Monsieur is waiting at the café Lutece. We will be very grateful. If I understand correctly, this is how human gratitude is defined…

— Didn't Sedene say by any chance that you had the day off... — [Reader] didn't finish the sentence because the box was thrust into her hands and the melusines disappeared around the corner with a loud farewell.

So she headed towards the café. The Chief Justice was hard to miss. He was sitting at a double table, looking out at the street.

— Monsieur Neuvillette.

— Mademoiselle [Reader] — The man seemed slightly surprised to see her and that wasn't often the case.

— I'm bringing you a gift. Sigewinne and Sedene really wanted to give it to you but unfortunately they couldn't make it.

The tiny bundle landed in his hand. It seemed to [Reader] that their fingers touched for much longer than was really necessary. However, this impression quickly passed.

— Did something happen?

— I don't think so, although they were acting strange. Sedene said something about a day off but Sigewinne suddenly said that they had to go back. I hope all is well at the Fortress of Meropide.

Melusines always remembered their duties. They were usually extremely dedicated to their work, no matter what profession it was.

Neuvillette just nodded. He guessed what exactly it was about but he couldn't say it out loud. Sigewinne did it on purpose. She had been pestering [Reader] as his replacement for some time now. She even arranged a lecture on cosmetics after [Reader] mentioned that she wanted to be better at applying makeup. Melusine tried to better understand who she was and what exactly was going on between her and Iudex of Fontaine. The truth was that too little was happening and too slowly for her liking. That's why she stubbornly tried to gently push the two of them in a common direction. Usually, however, with poor results.

— Wriothesley will certainly handle any problem should it arise. — Please, sit down — the man encouraged.

The woman looked around the table shaded by the umbrella and noticed a small piece of paper. Sedene's name was written in gold cursive. Apparently the reservation was intended just for her.

— I wouldn't like to disturb you.

— Mademoiselle could never disturb me. — Neuvillette looked her straight in the eyes, then had a short conversation with the waiter.

— To be honest, I received an invitation for two to a café and I wanted to invite you here but I saw that you had a document transfer scheduled for today, so I decided against it.

It was true. However, he left out the moment in the story where he simply hesitated to ask the question. After all, as a last resort, the woman could take time off to meet him if she really wanted to. The question was whether she really wanted to. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know the answer...

— Well... It so happens that the transfer has been postponed, so the trial will probably be delayed. Fortunately, I'm not the only Opera employee. Someone would do it for me if necessary. For example, if I was invited to a coffee shop…

Neuvillette didn't have time to answer. The waiter brought crystal glasses on a tray. [Reader] peered in curiously, assessing the contents.

— Is this a new type of Fonta? — she asked, sniffing.

— It's water. I like tasting water. You could say it's my hobby — he cleared his throat. — If you want, I'll order something else...

He didn't expect [Reader] to be present today. Therefore, he informed the waiter in advance that he and Sedene would drink water. This wouldn't be strange to a melusine, as they could sense subtle differences that humans usually couldn't. However, hardly anyone else reacted normally to his passion. He didn't find much understanding on this matter, so he usually kept it to himself.

— There's no need to! — she protested vehemently. — I mean... I'm not a connoisseur and I don't know how much I'll feel something but I'll try. And if it doesn't work out, I can just listen. — Saying this, she took a sip of water from one glass, then another.

She looked serious for a moment, as if weighing the flavors.

— It won't work, they taste the same to me. — She laughed quietly.

— Inazuma water has a deep, distinct flavour like no other. The one from Sumeru is a rich and complex bouquet. You have to drink it slowly and for a long time to understand it. Therefore, there is no point in giving up. Take a sip now and another one, in a moment.

The woman nodded. Neuvillette finally unpacked the small box. The ribbon looked different than the ones he usually got from melusines. The pink shell jingled softly. It reminded him of the call of the sea. For a moment he wanted to return to it.

— I hope you're not mad. I chose it. I didn't know who the gift was for, and Sigewinne and Sedene asked me for advice, and that's how it turned out.

— It's beautiful — he said.

But his eyes weren't on the ribbon at all. [Reader] noticed this and looked nervously to the side while tucking her hair behind her ear.

— Maybe I can help you put it on? — she suggested to break the silence.

She approached the table from the other side. She pulled off the old ribbon and carefully placed it back in the box. A cascade of long, silvery hair flowed gently in the wind. After a while, they were decorated with a pink shell. Neuvillette turned his head, probably thinking it was over. However, he didn't notice that [Reader] wanted to move something. His face met a pair of eyes shining with concentration. They were so close to each other that he could almost feel her breathing. He felt warmth rising to his cheeks. The distance was rapidly decreasing. Was this the state he had heard so often about but had not yet been able to understand? An inexplicable fascination that drew you closer and didn't let you escape?

— Can I help you with anything else? — He turned around abruptly at the sound of the waiter's words. If there was anything he regretted that day, it was that the employee showed up at that particular place at that time.

***

[Reader] looked around uncertainly. Lady Furina warmly assured her that Monsieur Neuvillette needed help and would certainly be in the area. She even offered to give hercompany because she had something to do nearby. Despite this walk, she never once mentioned what the help actually involved. Every time a question was about to be asked, she veered off topic. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the archon did not fall silent for even a second, without allowing her to say a word.

The woman hadn't been here for a very long time so she walked along the seashore to make sure she didn't get lost. The waves gently lapped the golden sand. The sun was pleasantly warm, reflecting the glow of the water. She would have been delighted with the view, if it weren't for the fact that she couldn't find a man and she was getting further and further away from the city. Tired, she sat down by one of the grayish rocks.

— Argh! — a loud sound came from behind her.

She turned around abruptly. As it turned out, she had company. Behind a small rock sat a large Blubberbeast. It flapped its fins on belly and tilted its head curiously. She probably would have left it alone if it weren't for what she found behind it. A tower was being built next to the animal. But not just any kind. The pile was getting bigger by the minute. It consisted mainly of oysters. There was also seaweed and shells among them but she also saw a few pearls in the sand. Every now and then a new animal emerged from the water, each carrying another sea treasure. The white otter nimbly jumped out of the sea and trotted as fast as its little legs could to add its weight. It looked at [Reader] and made a whistling sound. Immediately afterwards, Blubberbeast approached the woman. And then more emerged from the sea. A group of crabs joined in, clacking their claws. She felt cornered. She had never heard of such a phenomenon and was about to slowly start to back away when the otter grabbed her leg. It placed seaweed at her feet. A string of milky white pearls stuck out from between them. Interestingly, they were strung on a silver chain, which made her wonder where animals got it from.

— Is this for me? — she asked in disbelief.

Blubberbeast patted its stomach and its companions followed. She took this as confirmation and put the necklace on.

Suddenly she heard voices in the distance. The men looked suspicious. Their clothes did not suggest the inhabitants of the capital. Tattered shirts and trousers did not bode well, as she realized when she saw the weapons in their hands.

— Can you see that? — the tallest man asked. — We've got some loot, boys.

He looked like the leader of the group. There was a scar on his eye and a nasty smile on his face. He walked over to the pile of treasures, scooped up a few pearls and bit into them as if testing gold. The animals made warning sounds. It wouldn't take a zoologist from the Institute to guess that they didn't like it very much.

[Reader's] first thought was to escape. However, she didn't have time to make any move. The air became humid. She felt the intense smell of salty sea water. Its droplets seemed to float in the air for a moment. As if someone had stopped time. Immediately afterwards, all three attackers were knocked down in an instant by a stream of water. Behind it she saw a familiar face.

— Monsieur Neuvillette. — [Reader] breathed a sigh of relief.

— Mademoiselle [Reader], what are you doing here?

She couldn't tell him that Lady Furina had led her here. The archon clearly emphasized that this was not a good idea. This is a tragically hopeless idea, full of complexities that there is no time to explain, leading to unnecessary misunderstandings... Do you understand?

— It worked out that way… — she said sluggishly.

— I'm glad you're okay.

Neuvillette looked at her neck, then at the pile of treasures, then at the entire animal retinue.

— You got your gift a little earlier than I planned...

The woman instinctively grabbed her jewelry.

— How did you get them all to… Oh — she realized.

Bad weather after the trials. The fact that he was able to use hydro power without vision. The way he got along so well with the sea creatures and made the sea animals listen to him. Now everything made sense.

— We'll talk about it later but first I'd like to say something. — He looked her straight in the eyes. — You already know that I'm not human. That's why I can't always immediately understand the emotions that are associated with humanity. I waited because I wanted to make sure that what I said would truly reflect how I felt. I'm infatuated. I see you in places you're not and in things you don't touch. I walk through the streets of Fontaine thinking I'll meet you and then I wonder what I would say if we saw each other. And even when I have something in my head, I can't say it when we actually see each other. If there is a crime you should be convicted of, it would be stealing my heart but I know I wouldn't be able to pass the sentence. Therefore, judge me because only you can do it. — With these words, he knelt in front of her and took her hand.

[Reader] couldn't shake the feeling that Lady Furina must have dropped off the Inazuma romance novels on Neuvillette's desk somewhere among the papers. But she had no intention of complaining.

— I hereby declare you innocent. — She smiled gently. — First of all, we can go to...

***

— What is this even? Hopeless. A total tragedy. End of the world! How can you be so... ARGH... Ignorance is rampant in Fontaine and the great efforts of outstanding people who try to fight the gray, boring reality disappear into the darkness. This is a dimension of despair that few will understand...

Furina sat on the window sill, with a grimace of dissatisfaction. With an expression that spoke more than a thousand words, she complained about the lack of results from the grand marriage plan she had been plotting for the past weeks. In her hand lay a cupcake, as bitter and black as her soul at that moment, which she did not fail to emphasize loudly and clearly to her employees.

— I left her umbrella on the desk but he totally ignored hit and she didn't even bother to come to the office. I gave him the day off and a double invitation to the Lutece Cafe. Who did he invite? Melusine. I literally took her to the place where he had been sitting all morning, I stood there for so long and it didn't work because she decided to sit with the animals. — She stuffed a cupcake into her mouth. — Are they doomed to tragic love? Am I not the best archon? — she asked the guard who was just entering the room.

The man quickly understood the context of the situation. Not that he had anything else to gossip about at work lately. Archon Fontaine's schemes, try as they might, were not that secret. Half the people in Palais Mermonia must have seen her efforts and expected the results. At least the books weren't flying back and forth over their heads. And that was already a success in itself.

— You are the best archon, Lady Furina — as he said this, he placed a crystal bowl full of warm, dark brown cupcakes straight from the oven.

— Wait a minute... Wait a minute... — Furina abruptly pressed her nose against the glass.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. There were two people standing at the bottom. She would recognize them from a distance. [Reader] looked from side to side, as if searching for onlookers around her. Once she was sure no one was there, she placed a gentle kiss on the man's cheek. None other than Iudex of Fontaine, who looked back at her one last time with a tiny smile and entered the building.

— WHAT! — echoed around the room.

As if on cue, several guards standing guard in the corridor burst into the room.

— Everything is fine, my dears! Furina cleared her throat. — Well actually, the momentous moment has come because I helped love triumph. Like a mystical cupid sent from above to the little ones who do not want to accept this feeling. Remember, when the door is closed, this magical force will enter through the open window! Because there is nothing stronger than love!

The guards blinked in surprise and nodded, sheathing their weapons. Whenever they didn't understand the lady's poetic words, they simply agreed with her. They didn't always have to know what exactly they were about.

— Please contact Miss Charlotte and invite her to the palace immediately for a private audience. I expect that everyone at Palais Mermonia will receive an issue of Steambird tomorrow morning. Whoever handles this has to be in line outside the door at dawn, before the presses start rolling, understand?

— Yes, lady Furina! — they saluted in unison.

— And I'll play the doorman in the next musical! — she added.

#neuvillette x reader #genshin impact x reader #oneshot x reader #furina #neuvillette #melusines #charlotte #freminet #genshin impact #love is an open door

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milaisreading · 5 months

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🌱🩷: So, this is the first story of my Blue Lock Christmas special stories. I hope u all will like them! Thanks for reading🩷

Pairing: Otoya Eita x Isagi's sister!Yn

(Slight mention of Oliver Aiku x Isagi's sis!Yn)

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. No other warnings, really... there might be a little bit of angst, but that's abt it. It has a fluff ending

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

🎄Dec 10th🎄

It's the Christmas time right after the Japan team had won the World Cup. Otoya still felt the same amount of euphoria he felt months ago. He had made great new friends, got an offer to play in a good European football club, got many sponsorships, and, for Otoya most importantly, he got a lot of attention from the ladies. He always liked the attention they gave him, but never found it in himself to date one of the girls who confessed to him. Otoya wanted to blame that on the fact that he knew he wasn't relationship material, that he liked fucking around, and that he didn't want to make the same mistake he did prior to joining Blue Lock. But... Otoya knew that wasn't entirely true. He had eyes on someone else. He had feelings for someone else, and kept on silently admiring them from afar as they were happily in a relationship with someone else. And that someone was nobody other than Isagi (Y/n), their star striker's older sister. Otoya isn't someone who falls in love hard, but ever since he got to know the older Isagi he doesn't believe it. Otoya really loved the girl, and he wasn't sure what he loved more about her. Was it the laugh? The smile? The kind personality? The angry look she would send Isagi when he didn't pick his stuff up? Or maybe it was how relaxed she was? Or all of it combined? Otoya didn't know the answer, but one thing he did know is that he fell in love, and he wasn't getting out of it any time soon.

But, just like (Y/n) is perfect is Otoya's eyes, there was one imperfection about the girl that was bugging him. Well, it's not a flaw in her personality or looks, but more her partner. The one and only, Oliver Aiku, the former captain of the U-20 team and Japan's most well known two-timer. Otoya will admit it was hypocritical of him to hate Oliver for cheating, but he didn't care!

Thanks to his closeness with Isagi, Otoya got to know of all the times Oliver cheated on (Y/n), and every time she took him back! The green-eyed boy couldn't believe that, he didn't want to believe it, but... it was true. And in a way Otoya understood it, when you love someone you don't think clearly, but it didn't mean he liked it. He still remembers the day she came back home, crying while Otoya was visiting Isagi.

🎄Flashback🎄

It was the Christmas day of last year, and after a whole day of spending time with his family, he decided to visit his good friend Isagi (he hoped his sister was home, too). The blue-eyed boy didn't protest the idea much, since he was alone at home and just playing video games, while his parents went to a party and his sister went out on a date with Oliver.

"Soo... they are still dating?" Otoya asked, trying to keep his attention on the video game. Isagi sighed and did the same, not noticing or ignoring the obvious venom in Otoya's voice.

"Yeah... mom and I tried to tell her so many times to leave his pathetic ass, but she just won't. I understand she is in love with Aiku, but that doesn't mean she has to suffer like this." Isagi answered back as they waited for a new level to load. Otoya kept quiet, his grip on the controller tightening as he thought of Oliver.

'That idiot has such a sweet and caring person on his side...'

"How... how many times has it happened?" Otoya questioned.

"Hmm... Sis told me he cheated like 2 times... as far as she knows."

"Hm." Otoya's brows furrowed.

The entrance door suddenly slammed open, startling the duo and Isagi paused the game to see who it was.

"Hm?" Isagi mumbled as he walked towards the entrance. Otoya watched silently, wondering who it could be.

"Sis... it happened again?" The green-eyed boy stood up as he heard Isagi's words, his heart thumbing against his ribcage as he listened in on them.

"Y-yes... but it's fine... I was planning on breaking up today, anyways." (Y/n) sobbed out and Otoya peeked from the open entrance, only to find the girl being hugged by her brother while she was crying.

"I am so stupid."She cried out again and Otoya returned back into the living room before the siblings saw him.

'That stupid asshole...' The green-eyed boy clenched his fists as he listened in on the duo.

🎄Present time🎄

After that day, Otoya made sure to be more attentive towards (Y/n), and was more responsible with his flirting. In hindsight, Otoya should have been this way while (Y/n) and Oliver were still dating, but the flirting made Oliver mad and (Y/n) didn't seem to mind much, since he was never really inappropriate or anything. So, Otoya saw it as a win. But ever since the break up, he just couldn't bring himself to be the old Otoya in that sense. So he would just do some basic things. If he visited Isagi, he would bring some food for them and (Y/n), if she needed help with groceries, he would be there (Isagi was forced to tell him, since Otoya wouldn't stop pestering him), if she said she liked some new book, he would look for it and read. He was down that bad... The whole time he just wanted her to see he was reliable and could be there for her. Something Oliver wasn't.

Otoya sighed as he found the last item in the grocery store his mom sent him to. Memories of the final at the World Cup playing in his head.

🎄Flashback🎄

Otoya looked over at the VIP section from time to time while the team was warming-up for their match against Germany. Otoya could feel the adrenaline rush hitting him 10x harder than it usually would. Not only was this the match everyone was fighting tooth and nail to get to, but also (Y/n) was there and watching him. She was sitting with her parents and waving at the guys from time to time.

'I wish she wore my jersey instead...' Otoya thought as he noted the number 11 written on the particular shirt she wore.

"Otoya, are you alright?"

Speaking of the devil, the younger Isagi walked up to the green-eyed boy, causing him to look at the blue-eyed boy.

"Fine. I am just thinking."

"About my sis?" Isagi raised an eyebrow, watching Otoya blush a little.

"Am I that obvious?"

"Yes. It is amusing to watch." Isagi snickered as Otoya sent him a side-glare, but it quickly disappeared.

"Say... does your sister ever talk about me?" Isagi stopped laughing and looked at Otoya again.

"Well, she said you are very caring and funny to hang out with." The younger answered as be watched Otoya blush again, then continued speaking.

"You know, if you like my sister... try it. (Y/n) seems to like you a lot."

"R-really?" Otoya stuttered, frantically looking between him and (Y/n).

"Yeah. Just...just don't hurt her."

"Of course I won't! I... She means a lot to me." Otoya sighed and looked back at her, just in time for their eyes to meet. The boy blushed as (Y/n) waved at him and he waved back.

'I will ask her out if we win this final game. I promise.'

🎄Present Time🎄

'I still didn't do it... I should probably confess before I leave for Spain in 2 months.' Otoya thought as he made his way back home. The boy fished out his phone and looked at the time, then at the date.

'December 23rd...'

An idea popped in his head then.

🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️

December 24th

Shibuya ward, Tokyo

"Otoya! Sorry if I am late!" The boy looked away from the night sky and excitedly watched as (Y/n) approached him.

"So-sorry! My ride was late. Did you wait for too long?" She asked, stopping in front of him while clutching the strap of her bag.

'Cute... she looks cute!' Otoya blushed and shook his head as he was observing her.

"Not at all... I am happy you made it here. You look good today..." The boy mumbled nervously, causing the girl to blush a little.

"Thanks, although it's nothing special. Y-you look nice, too." She stuttered the last part, at Otoya felt like his brain went blank for a moment, but he ended up shaking himself out of that state.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet up with me today. Especially when everything is so busy and crowded now. I... uhm..." Otoya felt like his heart was about to explode.

'Come on! You confessed to girls before!'

"It's nothing worth thanking me for! I really like hanging out with you!" She smiled again.

'But... with (Y/n) it's different. I really need to be smooth with it.' He took a deep breath.

"I like you! More than just a friend." Otoya said, blushing a bright red.

'Otoya Eita, you idiot!' He wanted to facepalm himself as he watched (Y/n)'s eyes widen in shock.

"I... I am sorry it came out like this, but I really meant what I said. I liked you for a while and... and wanted to say this before I leave for Spain. I..." Otoya took a deep breath as his heart broke a little by what he said next.

"I cam understand if you don't feel the same. I just hope we can still stay friends."

(Y/n) kept quiet as Otoya spoke, the boy growing more and more nervous.

'I should have kept my mouth shut-'

"I... I like you, too." She said, face flushed while trying to look directly at Otoya.

"I did for months now... and I wanted to confess weeks ago, but after I heard you will be leaving Japan soon..." (Y/n) took a deep breath. Now it was Otoya's turn to look shocked.

"I didn't want to make the little bit of time we have left awkward. I wasn't sure if you liked me."

The duo kept quiet after that for a minute, both equally excited and flushed.

"I am happy... you liking me back really makes me happy." Otoya said as a soft smile made its way on his face, moving closer to (Y/n).

"So... does that mean we are a... a couple now?" She wondered, moving closer as well.

"Of course. I... I might suck at expressing myself properly, but you mean a lot to me, and I promise to cherish you."

"Even... even when we are far apart? You won't leave me?"

"Never. I will make sure to contact you as much as possible. I would never dream of leaving you."

Otoya gently grabbed her face and the two shared a short and sweet kiss.

"To think that last Christmas I was a crying mess... a year sure makes a big difference." She laughed little as Otoya pulled her into a hug. The boy smiling from ear to ear as he felt her hug him back.

"I swear that every Christmas from mow on will be even better than the previous ones. I love you."

"Love you,too, Otoya." She sighed in bliss, hugging him tightly.

#bllk #blue lock anime #blue lock manga #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock scenarios #isagi's sister #otoya eita #blue lock otoya #bllk otoya #otoya eita x reader #otoya eita x you #otoya x reader #fluff #angst

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aphroditelovesu · 1 year

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IF WE NEED MORE FROM YAN MOM RHAENYRA, PLEASE.

❝ 🐉— lady l: I need it too, anon T-T so I made this little hc of her, it was short but I hope you, my dear readers, like it!! Forgive me for any mistakes. <3

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, jealousy, overprotection, implied murder, unhealthy platonic relationship.

Rhaenyra never really wanted to be a mother and she always made that clear whenever someone brought up the subject of marriage and children, however she knew it was inevitable but as long as she could postpone these events she would. She just didn't expect to get pregnant from what should have been just one night of lust between two people who now hate each other. But one good thing came out of that night and that was you. She lost something that night but gained something she was sure she could never lose.

Although she was apprehensive during the pregnancy, Rhaenyra decided not to interrupt it, even though she knew full well who her real father was. She never told anyone the truth and it was better that way. She didn't think she would really be happy with a child in her arms until you were born. And Rhaenyra could finally understand why they talked so much that she would never love anyone the way she would love her own child.

When your mother was finally able to hold you in her arms, Rhaenyra felt inexplicable things. Happiness, euphoria, love and maybe possessiveness. She grinned from ear to ear, not caring about your cries, she was much more focused on how she felt. She watched you with tears in her eyes, she really felt happy to have you. Something she was sure she wouldn't do, but she was and she wasn't going to let anything happen to her precious baby.

Rhaenyra wants to be the best mother possible for you, she has done everything you ask and more. She would do anything for her baby because she just wants to see you happy. It's a fact that she would kill and die for you if need be, Rhaenyra would defy even the Seven to protect you. It is her duty to take care of you, after all, she is your mother. Everyone knows how much she cares and loves you deeply and possessively but no one dares say a word about it because they don't want to take her fury.

She is a very proud mother of her baby and anything you do, no matter how small, Rhaenyra will be applauding you with fervor and a look full of pride. It's pretty obvious from everyone's eyes who her favorite child is, although she loves all her other children, you are the one she pays the most attention to and the one she dedicates the most to. You are the one she spoils the most, Rhaenyra is always gifting you, with no special occasion, she loves to dress you up too regardless of your gender, she wants to be there to take care of you always. Your mother will bathe you in jewels and silks, all the best for her baby.

Rhaenyra is extremely possessive of you, she gets jealous very easily if someone spends too much time with her baby. It's not hard to notice when she's jealous, her hateful expression towards whoever has your attention already says a lot for her. She wants your attention for her, your mother wants you to stay glued to her at all times, even though it's completely irrational, she doesn't care. She was the one who gave you life, so it's only fair that you always stay with her. Rhaenyra can and will be annoyed and irritated if anyone spends too much time with you, no matter who it is, she is possessive of her baby and always will be. You are hers, you were born from her and will always belong to your mother.

She is overprotective and combined to her temper and possessiveness can become overwhelming to deal with. Rhaenyra is very concerned about your safety at all times, but her heart rate increases when you ride your dragon. She knows it's natural, you're a Targaryen and it's in your blood, but she still doesn't like it. And if you get hurt badly? If you fall off your dragon? Or what if it hurts you? There are so many possibilities and danger that make her anxious all the time. If it were your mother's choice, you'd be glued to her side like a doll, but she knows you can't do that, so she tries her best to dissuade you from activities that could endanger your life. Rhaenyra knows she can't protect you forever, but as long as she lives, she's sure to do it.

Rhaenyra Targaryen tries to be a good mother as much as possible, and in a way, she is. She wants nothing but happiness for her baby, but she is selfish and she wants that happiness to come true only if she is by your side. You are her baby, the child she loves so much and defends tooth and nail from everyone, if she needed to jump in front of a dragon to save you she would do it without thinking twice but at the same time she will lock you in a tower for you to continue by her side. She goes from 80 to 180 really fast in her obsession with you, there are no qualms when her baby is involved. Rhaenyra does anything for you and all she wants in return is you by her side always, like a beloved child should be with it's mother. She wants only the best for you, and because of that, she feels that no man or woman is good enough for you and they will never be, in her eyes. You don't need anyone but her, right? You will always need her, she will make sure of that, just like she will always need you. After all, Rhaenyra is her mother and mothers should never be separated from their children.

''You are the most precious thing I have ever had in my entire existence and that's why I cannot let you go.''

#yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #house of the dragon #hotd #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen headcanons #platonic yandere #yandere headcanons #yan!mom rhaenyra targaryen

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leiasources · 11 months

Text

an assortment of disney sentence starters. a compilation of sentence starters from and inspired by lilo and stitch, lady and the tramp, lady and the tramp ii: scamp’s adventure, the little mermaid and the little mermaid ii: return to the sea. feel free to adjust as necessary but do not add to the list. thank you!

‘ i don't see how a world that makes such wonderful things could be bad. ’

‘ if anybody ever needed a muzzle, it's him ... ’

‘ have you lost your senses completely? ’

‘ i'd give anything to have what you have. ’

‘ i didn't mean it, {name}, i don't know what i was thinking! ’

‘ beyond those distant hills, who knows what wonderful experiences there are, and it's all ours for the taking. ’

‘ if you promise not to fight anymore, i promise not to yell at you ... except on special occasions. ’

‘ you ... saved my life. nobody else here would have dared to do that. ’

‘ you don't know what it was like. ’

‘ i see you haven't changed a bit. ’

‘ hey! watch where you're going, stupid head! ’

‘ you don't belong on the street. you won't last five minutes out here. ’

‘ wonder what they do around here for excitement. ’

‘ do we have a lobster door? no! we have a dog door! we're getting a dog. ’

‘ we're just going to forget this whole thing ever happened. ’

‘ how could there be anything wrong with something so wonderful? ’

‘ i'm not going home! you can't make me. ’

‘ did you lose your job because of me? ’

‘ if you want to leave, you can. i'll remember you though. i remember everyone that leaves. ’

‘ i just ... i just don't feel like i belong here. have you ever felt that way? ’

‘ i'm giving you a choice, you can come with me or you can return home. ’

‘ if your father knew about this place- ’

‘ if you ask me, she's a little strange ... ’

‘ everybody thinks i'm ... weird ... ’

‘ this is great. this is living! i never get to do this at home. ’

‘ why don't you go tell my father? you're good at that. ’

‘ stop criticizing me! that's all my mother ever did, criticize me! ’

‘ you're hiding something from me ... ’

‘ remember this: a human heart has only so much room for love and affection. ’

‘ i'm going to bust us out of here, if it's the last thing i do. ’

‘ i know you're trying, {name}, but you need to think about what's best for them ... even if it removes you from the picture. ’

‘ i've given you what you've always wanted ... they're the one who's been lying to you all these years. ’

‘ it wasn't built to keep something out ... it was built to keep me in. ’

‘ you've got no one to blame but yourself. ’

‘ well ... that's what comes of tying yourself down to one person. ’

‘ we could run off together. we don't need them. ’

‘ you're just like ... like your mother. ’

‘ it's about time you settle down. ’

‘ i thought we could sit out here and talk. ’

‘ i'm sorry i bit you ... and pulled your hair ... and punched you in the face. ’

‘ sometimes you try your hardest but things don't work out the way you want them to. ’

‘ i hope that you appreciate what i go through for you. ’

‘ take my advice and settle down with this one, huh? ’

‘ i should have been home hours ago ... ’

‘ i'm late because i had to go to the store and get peanut butter because all we have is stinkin' tuna- ’

‘ no, you don't belong there, you're better than that and that's what i like about you. ’

‘ you know, i really believed they had a chance ... then you came along. ’

‘ isn't it obvious? {name}'s in love. ’

‘ why didn't you wait at the school? you were supposed to wait there! ’

‘ that's the first time i've seen you smile in weeks. ’

‘ i know that's why you wreck things and why you're mean to me sometimes ... ’

‘ i was just like you when i was your age. ’

‘ i don't need you to shelter and protect me! ’

‘ you're not like the rest of us. you're good and kind. the streets will beat that out of you if you stay. ’

‘ you really want a family, don't you? ’

‘ i've got a very comfortable home, where i know you'll be loved and appreciated ... ’

‘ why do you act so weird? ’

‘ open up your eyes to what life can really be ... ’

‘ are you going to play dolls? ’

‘ this is great. i mean, i really love this ... adventure, excitement, danger lurking around every corner ... ’

‘ you don't have to be scared of me. i won't hurt you. ’

‘ we can't go in! the sign says- ’

‘ i need you to stay here for a few minutes. i'm going to be right back. ’

‘ i'm {number} years old! i'm not a child! ’

‘ hey, i brought you some pizza in case you were hungry. ’

‘ i'm not your girl. i don't belong to anyone ... ’

‘ i wish i could tell {name} how i feel ... but they'd never understand. ’

‘ you seem very familiar ... have we met? ’

‘ people treat me different. ’

‘ i know you've been keeping something from me. ’

‘ sometimes ... things have to change and maybe sometimes they're for the better. ’

‘ you didn't think they would miss you!? ’

‘ this is you and this is your badness level. it's unusually high for someone your size. ’

‘ all i ever hear is rules, rules, rules ... don't do this and don't do that ... ’

‘ everyone has trouble fitting in at your age. i know i did. i was a regular fish out of water. ’

‘ there's a great, big hunk of world out there with no fence around it, where two people can find adventure and excitement ... ’

‘ why did you keep the truth from me? ’

‘ i bet they've got a lid on every trash can ... oh, and a fence around every tree. ’

‘ we're a broken family, aren't we? ’

‘ if it wasn't for you, i would have wound up somewhere else... ’

‘ i'm the only one who understands them. you take that way, they won't stand a chance. ’

‘ our family is little now and we don't have much but if you want you could be a part of it. ’

‘ i'm going to stuff you in the blender, push puree then bake you into a pie and feed it to- ’

‘ when you're footloose and unattached ... well, that's nothing but the best. ’

‘ what are you doing out here? don't you have a nice family back home? ’

‘ don't you have a family? ’

‘ oh man, must have been horrible having someone care about you that much ... ’

‘ you have a home and a family that loves you. you're not like the rest of us, {name}. ’

‘ i'm just so afraid i'm going to make a total fool of myself. ’

‘ you're hiding something from me ... ’

‘ i didn't think they would miss me that much ... ’

‘ have you ever seen anything so wonderful in your entire life? ’

‘ i got to get to work. stick around town and stay out of the roads, okay? ’

‘ they aren't much of a family ... but what choice do i have? ’

‘ it's clear to me that you need them a lot more than they need you. ’

‘ i might not be a doctor but i know that there's no better cure for a sour face than a couple of boards and some choice waves. what do you think? ’

‘ you're such a pain. ’

‘ come to join the party? ’

‘ the world out there is full of traps. here? here you have a family that loves you. ’

#roleplay prompts #roleplay sentence starters #sentence starters #disney #disney sentence starters #mine: inbox prompt

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fairdale · 8 months

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justice for elriel

already said this, but i feel like some people haven’t read the same books as me regarding elriel. and i don't particularly mean them as a ship, i mean that because of ships some people refuse to acknowledge the amazing characters that are these two (and how well they go together). i love them so much.

some talk of elain as plain, boring girl who is fragile and useless and i just don't get it. the poor girl has her life turned upside down not once, but twice. and yes, she doesn't react the same way feyre or nesta do, but she also fights. she helps them in the war. for the love of god, nesta and cassian are alive because she stabbed the king (with azriel's most special dagger that he never lent anyone but her, mind you). i'm sorry but that don't you touch my sister was one of the top moments for me.

and not only that, but i've seen people hate her. how can you hate her?? i just don't get it. she's growing out of her shell, she's blossoming into a strong, fearless woman. feyre herself said she believed elain to be the strongest because she remained hopeful even in hard times. and she sees the good in people.

sure, in acowar she was still processing everything, but in acofas and acosf you can see her being comfortable around everyone and more sure of herself, bolder, as cassian said. her hobbies may be quieter than her sisters', but that doesn't make her less interesting. plus it's obvious that she doesn't wanna be babied. she was willing to scry and help them fight the queen. she's ready to fight, to use her powers. to show who she really is.

and talking about azriel, i just can't believe some people talk about him as the "sad guy" and nothing else. they talk as if the whole inner circle and the archeron sisters weren't in love with him. he fights with everything he has for his people. he didn't care about the bad condition his wings were in during the last battle, he wanted to fight along his brothers.

he taught feyre how to fly because he understood the fears she may have. he never once judger her. he's always there for everyone. he may not be expressing himself with words easily, but you can see it in his actions how much he cares about his family.

he's also so smart and i love that. for me, he's one of the most interesting characters in the whole series, maybe even the most interesting one. he has such a hard past, but he overcame it. he despises the illyrians, but he loves his brothers and is one of the best three fighters they have. he has a lot of control, but he didn't hesitate to defend mor against eries or to go rescue elain. he cares, a lot.

(and please don't even get me started on the be careful how you speak about my high lady. this man is HOT)

and last but not least, elriel. these two have so many moments, even if they are subtle. you can't deny the connection they have from the second they met. elain inmediately felt more at ease in his presence and she asked him multiple questions. and he was so so kind to her, making sure she didn't feel uncomfortable. and let me remind you her dress was the color of azriel's siphons. i can't let that go.

in acowar, azriel is the one who says elain doesn't need anything when others talked about her as if she needed to be fixed. and he's the one who understands what is happening with her, that she's a seer. i think it's so important that he didn't doubt her. he trusted that she was capable enought to help, to grow, to be.

when elain gets kidnapped, he's the first one to say i'm getting her back. he didn't hesitate for one second, even when the rest told him he would die. he was getting her back. and he did, and they didn't want to let go of each other.

and elain kissed his cheek without caring about whoever or whatever that was going on around them.

and as i said before, azriel lent her truth-teller so she would be able to defend herself. he doesn't cut her wings. i feel like some people misunderstand his words acosf when he didn't want her near darkness. he was worried, but he never, once, tried to order her or tell her what she could or couldn't do.

he's also one of the few people who treats her as a capable, adult woman who is strong and clever. he encourages her, and so does she.

i also need to talk about elain saying his hands are beautiful. his hands, that he feels are always dirty and unworthy of touching something precious. she has never judged them or him.

oh, and please let's talk about them getting each other gifts for the winters solstice. multiple times. they're whipped. they're just so so cute to me.

offer and permission.

and no, i don't think azriel would be bad for elain or stop her growth. i don't think he would slow her down because he also needs to grow in his confidence.

and no, i don't think elain is bad suited for azriel because she may not be interested in fighting as her sisters are. elain is ready to fight her battles, to be an active part of her court. just because she chooses to do so differently, it doesn't mean is not important.

so, basically, these two are iconic and they're wonderful characters who deserve all the love and appreciation and i honestly think they have crazy chemistry and could have an epic (love) story. they're awesome, together and individually and i can't wait to be inside their minds. i really hope the next book is about them because the possibilities are endless.

they are that good.

#acotar #azriel #elain #elriel #pro azriel #pro elain #this doesn't mean i hate lucien and gwyn okay #i truly don't #i actually like them a lot too #but i just needed to rant about these two because i love them #i refuse to believe people actually hate on them #obviously not everyone #because not everyone has bad taste #anyway #I LOVE MY BABIES #pls no inner circle or archeron slander #pro elriel

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alwaysonthemend · 9 months

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Author’s Note: Josh lane come get y'all juice!!

This fic has been sitting in my drafts for a hot sec and I’ve finally finished it! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Sorry for any typos/mistakes!

Summary: Good things come to those who wait. And our sweet Josh is about to find out just how good those things can be.

Content Warnings: Oral (m and f rec.) fingering, pegging, slight edging. Needless to say, 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 4961

-----------------------

You can’t help but leer at him as the two of you make your way into the venue from the parking lot. Josh always looks gorgeous, but tonight you find yourself wishing that the two of you had just stayed home.

“Enjoying the view?” Josh asks, turning to catch you staring at his ass with a cocky smirk.

“Meh. I’ve seen better.”

“Have you now?” Josh stops, allowing you to catch up with him. Grabbing your wrists, he pulls you into him so that your chests are flush against one another.

“Oh ya. Way better.” You tell him, grinning as he places his hands on your hips.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” He says, cocking a brow at you and giving you a mischievous smile.

“She doth protest too much because she has not the words to describe such beauty.” You say, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and looping your arms around his shoulders.

“Ethereal. Divine. Transcendent. Such lofty words that still fall short.” You continue, giving a mock frown.

“Not to ruin the vibe here, babe.” he tells you with a sideways grin, “but it makes my dick hard when you talk about me like that.”

“Literally shut the fuck up.” You slap his chest playfully. “You better behave tonight.”

“No promises. I still think we should have just stayed in tonight.”

You just roll your eyes, pulling away from him to enter the venue.

-🌻🌻🌻🌻-

“Baby?”

The sound of Josh’s sweet voice makes it to your ears over the sounds of the bar, drawing your attention away from your conversation with another friend of yours.

“Yeah?” You ask him, swiveling in your high top chair at the bar to see him taking a seat in the one next to you. He’s got an odd look about him, and his cheeks are flushed from the alcohol.

He leans in closer to you, tilting his head downwards so that his lips hover just above your ear – it’s loud in the bar, but not so loud to warrant his pretty lips coming so close to you in order for you to hear him.

“Can we go home, baby?” The words slip from his lips, accent slightly more prominent since he’s been drinking, and there’s just a tiny hint of a whine in his words. “Please?”

He’s been extra clingy all night. He’s always touchy, but tonight he’s turned the touchiness up to 11. You’re not really complaining – his obvious desire for you makes you feel extra special tonight.

“We just got here.” You tell him, furrowing your brows at his sudden lack of interest in parties. Normally, you’re the one that has to drag him away from an event like this. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. Just wanna be…” he trials off, raising a brow in a way that’s so ridiculously attractive you almost choke, “alone with you.”

You bite your lip – the neediness of his words affecting you in a way that, perhaps, they shouldn’t be. Certainly, in a way that isn’t appropriate for a social gathering such as this. Especially when he’s sitting in front of you looking so delectable in his tan suit and white turtleneck. The outfit looks better on him than any article of clothing has a right to, and there’s a large part of you that would be more than happy to just go home and tear it off him. But you’re enjoying yourself, too. You haven’t seen some of these people in ages, and you want to spend a little more time with them before leaving.

Not to mention, there’s another little part of you that loves how much Josh wants to go home – solely to be with you. You want to soak up the feeling as much as you can. Why not draw it out? It just makes the reward that much more enjoyable.

“We’ll go home soon, babe.” You say, waving your hand dismissively, “Just be patient.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, sarcasm dripping off him, “have you met me before?”

“Patience, Josh. Or I’ll make you stay here much longer than either of us really want to be.”

That shuts him up, and you watch in humor as he slinks away, turning back only once to give you a bratty look before disappearing back into the crowd.

You mix and mingle for a while longer, catching up with old friends as you flit about the room. Occasionally, you’ll catch Josh’s eye and he’ll give you a pleading look – one that normally would have you falling to your knees and giving him whatever he wants. But tonight, there’s a fire within your veins that renders his magical puppy dog eyes useless on you.

As the revelry of the night ensues, you find yourself tucking away in a corner with a few of your closer friends, lounging on the leather sofas and catching up. It doesn’t take long for Josh to come and find you though, and he settles next to you – so close you can feel the warmth of him as he presses his thigh against yours.

“Now?” He whispers, once again leaning in close to your ear.

“No.” You tell him, taking a sip of your drink.

“Babe…” He sighs, shoulders slumping, “I want you so bad. Please can we go?”

“Josh,” you place your glass down on the table and turn your body to face him more fully, “I’m enjoying spending time with my friends. You can wait.”

He sticks his bottom lip out and looks at you through his pretty lashes.

“Laying it on thick, huh Joshy?” You bat your own lashes at him in response.

He shrugs.

“And why do you have to be so mean?” He’s not serious, but he is losing patience.

You raise a brow at him and sit up a little straighter.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?”

“Have you seen you?” He asks you, raking his eyes up and down your form. “Your dress is going to kill me one of these days. A happy death, no doubt. But a tragedy nonetheless.”

You roll your eyes at him playfully, chest warming with affection for the ridiculous man in front of you.

“Are you really that desperate for it?”

He just nods at you, soft curls bouncing where they rest on his forehead.

“Too bad.” You tell him simply, reaching your hand over to rub his thigh softly with your fingertips. You stifle a gasp when you feel him, half hard, through his pants.

He whines quietly as your fingers brush over his clothed cock, rocking his hips delicately forward.

“Please.” He whispers, cutting his honey brown eyes to look back at you. His cheeks have become a dark red and his chest heaves with each breath. You’ve never seen him look so ravished without having even done anything to him yet.

“Patience, Josh.” Is all you give him, stroking his length through his pants one more time before you turn away, jumping right back into the conversation with your friends.

You hear him stifle a groan as he shifts next to you, clearly uncomfortable. You feel slightly bad for him, imagining how he must be feeling – popping a boner in public like a teenager. But that’s as far as your sympathy goes. You’re not ready to give up the game yet.

After a while, he calms down enough that he can rise from the sofa. He gives you a frustrated glare as he retreats, and you can’t help but to smile into your drink as you watch him go.

-🌻🌻🌻🌻-

Eventually, the dull ache between your own thigh becomes too much, and you rise from your seat to go in search of your lovely partner. Weaving in and out of the crowd of people, you find him quickly, and his eyes practically sparkle as he sees you.

He walks over to you in quick strides, a bashful smile on his face.

“Are we leaving?”

“Yes, baby.” You tell him, heart alight with affection as he grins widely at you and laces his fingers with yours. “Let’s go home.”

“Fucking finally.”

The drive back to yours and Josh’s shared home isn’t particularly a long one, but it feels like years have passed before you’re finally pulling into the driveway. Josh had been silent in the passenger seat, hands clenched into fists at his sides and his plush bottom lip between his teeth.

You climb out of the car, and the two of you make your way to the front door. Josh walks in front of you, opening the door for you like the gentlemen that he is.

“Thank you, baby.” You tell him, stepping inside and immediately slipping your heels off. Breathing a sigh of relief, you walk further into the house. Josh follows behind as you make your way up to the bedroom.

Entering the room lit only by a salt lamp and a floor lamp, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching as Josh makes his way into the room.

He walks over to the middle of the room, arms hanging loosely at his sides, and a fire in his eyes as he looks at you.

“Something you need, Josh?” You ask him, a coy smile painting your lips. Why not tease him a little more?

“Babe, you know what I want.” He mutters, walking over to the side of the bed where you’re sitting and slotting himself between your legs. “Been wanting it all night.”

“Yeah?” Your question lilts out in a breathless whisper.

“Yeah.” He confirms, splaying his warm hands out on your thighs.

“How bad?”

“So bad, mama. So bad.”

“You were so patient for me.” You tell him, running your hands up his sides. “Take your clothes off, Josh. I want to see you.”

Obediently, he steps back and begins to strip. You watch in rapt attention as he undresses, until he’s standing there – naked and glorious, before you.

You allow yourself a moment to stare at him. You admire the way his slim waist is accentuated by the dim light, and your mouth waters as your eyes rake up to his sharp jawline and gorgeous lips.

He’s looking at you in that way that only he can – like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He’s looking at you in awe, almost as if he doesn’t feel worthy enough to gaze upon you. He’s more than worthy, a fact which you have, on numerous occasions, tried to convince him of. But in his mind, no one is worthy enough for you – not even him.

At last, you allow your gaze to fall on his pretty cock, hard as a rock and leaking already. The tip rests just below his belly button, curving just slightly and flushed red with need.

“It hurts.” He tells you, lip sticking out in a pout.

“I know, baby.” You say in sympathy, noting the way his entire body seems to tremble – tensed and eager to fulfill whatever command you give him. The power you hold over him in this moment makes your core weep and throb with want.

You rip your dress over your head, tossing it to the floor before turning your attention back to Josh. His eyes have come to rest on your breasts, eyeing them through the lace of your bra.

“You’ve been such a good boy tonight, Josh.” You praise, sliding backwards in the bed and leaning up against the pillows. “Can you be patient just a little longer for me?”

“Anything.” He breathes out, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“I need you to make me cum, baby. And then I’ll give you whatever you want.” You spread your legs wide, allowing him to see the damp spot on your cotton panties. “Can you do that for me?”

“Whatever you want, mama. I’ll make you cum. Wanna make you feel good.”

“Come here, then.”

The bed dips as he climbs onto it, crawling his way over to you and settling between your legs. He leans down, pressing his nose to your panties and inhaling deeply. Almost as if in a frenzy, he dips his fingers into the waistband and yanks them down your legs. You kick them off to the side, not even bothering to see where they went.

Josh descends onto your cunt, licking a stripe up through your slick folds – drawing a loud moan from you. Expertly, he swirls the tip of his tongue around your clit, knowing exactly what to do to drive you absolutely crazy. Relentlessly, he swirls your swollen bud with his tongue, the feeling almost too much as he lavishes attention on you. His speed makes your eyes roll back in your head, his ministrations a mix between too much and not enough.

You reach down and thread your fingers through the unruly curls on top of his head, tugging as he finally plunges his talented tongue into you. You whine and moan as he fucks you with it, his nose pressing into your clit perfectly. The sound of your wetness and his slurping is obscene – pornographic and loud in the otherwise silent room. He’s got both hands splayed on your thighs, and he groans into your cunt, sending delicious vibrations through you.

Josh is nothing if not eager to please, and it doesn’t take long for the coil in your belly to tighten, warmth spreading through you at a rapid pace.

“Fuck, just like that.” You command him, as he takes turns between suckling on your swollen clit and fucking into you with his tongue. “You’re so good, Josh. So fucking good.”

He moans at your praise and the feeling sends you hurtling over the edge, drenching his face in your release as your entire body shakes with pleasure.

Sitting up, you watch as Josh licks his lips. The light reflects on your juices that are smeared across his chin.

“Fucking hell, you’re so good at that.”

His eyes glimmer and he opens his mouth to retort but you interrupt him.

“If you say ‘vocalist’s tongue’ one more time, I’m gonna slap you.”

He grins, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You and I both know it’s true.”

“Come here, baby.” You say, beckoning for him to switch places with you. He crawls up to you and settles into the pillows, allowing you to toss one leg over his waist to straddle him.

“Please, mama. I’ve been so patient. Please.”

“Yes, you have. You’ve been such a good boy. And what do good boys get?”

He takes a stuttering breath.

“Good boys get a reward.”

You nod at him, sliding downwards on his hips to settle between his legs, leaving a trail of your slick as you do so.

“That’s right, Josh. And now you get yours.”

Slowly, you lick a stripe up his cock, tracing the vein that runs on the underside of him. You flick your tongue over the head, tasting the saltiness of his precum. He tosses his head back in response, mouth dropping open in pleasure. Delicately, you press a kiss to his tip, just barely pressing your tongue into his slit. He gasps, arching his back as his entire body tenses.

“Fuck.” He stutters out, as you sink your mouth down around him. You swallow him down, relaxing your jaw and breathing through your nose as you allow him to hit the back of your throat. You press your tongue into him and hollow your cheeks as you start to bob up and down on him, taking him as deep as you possibly can. He really has been so good for you, and you want nothing more than to return the favor.

Blindly, you reach out and find his hand, bringing it towards you to rest in your hair. Josh takes the hint, threading his fingers through it and guiding you down on him, allowing him to fuck into your mouth.

Tears gather at the corners of your eyes and your jaw aches, but you persist, focusing on breathing through your nose as he seeks out his release.

“Oh fuck, baby. Shit.” He whines through gritted teeth, eyes scrunched shut in pleasure. “Gonna cum. Feels so fucking good.” He tries to pull away from you, unwilling to allow himself to finish yet – no doubt wanting this to last longer. But you stop him by pressing your forearm over his hips, keeping him grounded as you start to bob your head again, this time taking him so deep that your nose presses into the soft hair at his base.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m cumming!” His moans and wails are like music to your ears, and just like that he’s spilling down your throat. You greedily swallow it all down, before pulling off him with a lewd pop.

“You sound so pretty when you cum.” You tell him, licking your lips. “You taste even better.”

He blushes, suddenly bashful – just as he often becomes in the bedroom. For someone who normally seems so confident – and for someone who’s just had his dick down your throat, his shyness seems silly. But it's just another facet of Josh that makes you love him even more. His timidness is endearing, and is so specifically Josh that if you think about it too hard, you’ll start getting emotional.

You sit up more, leaning upwards so that you can kiss him. He parts his lips, allowing you to slide your tongue into his mouth, exploring and tasting him. You remain there a moment, before detaching your lips from his, pressing hot kisses down his jawline that you love so much.

“No marks.” He warns, turning his head up to give you access anyway.

“You have a makeup team.” You say into his sweaty skin. “Plus, I don’t care if anyone sees. Want them to know who you belong to.”

At that, you feel his cock twitch against your thigh, hardening again at your words.

“Oh?” You say, sitting back on your haunches and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “You like that? When I call you mine?”

He whines, and his dark, lust-blown eyes gaze upon you – filled to the brim with renewed need and desire.

“Yeah. So much, mama. M’all yours.”

“I know you are.”

You reattach your lips to his neck, kissing down the hollow of his throat before going lower. You wrap your lips around his right nipple, sinking your teeth into the delicate flesh and drawing a breathy moan from him.

“Y/n?” He asks suddenly, his tone a little more serious than before. You stop, sitting up to look at his pretty face.

“Yes, baby? Is something wrong?”

“No, no. I just-” He stops himself, biting his lip and you can see him battling with himself.

“You know you can tell me anything baby.”

“I know. I just don’t know how to say it.”

You cock your head to the side, waiting. You don’t want him to feel pressured into speaking, but his trepidation is setting you on edge slightly.

“I want-” he sighs, “I want you to fuck me.”

Your eyes widen and a fresh wave of slick gushes from you.

“I- are you sure?” You ask him, timid in the face of his own hesitation.

“I’m sure. I’ve been wanting it for days, I just… I didn’t know how to ask for it.”

“Oh, sweet boy.” You coo, swiping your hand over his forehead, brushing his sweaty curls off of his skin. “Is that what had you so worked up tonight? Wanting me to fuck you but you were too afraid to ask?”

He nods, closing his eyes in embarrassment.

“Don’t ever be embarrassed over what you want. I’m more than willing to give it to you.”

He opens his eyes at you, and the look in his eyes is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

“I want it, mama. I want it. Please give it to me.”

You see the change overtake him – like a switch has been flipped. Generally, the two of you switch up who’s in control depending on the day. And Josh’s neediness for you today had been nothing out of the ordinary.

But right now, as he pleads with you to give him what he so desperately needs, there’s something more. It’s a headspace you’ve only seen him in once before – months ago when you’d first broached the topic with him. He’d asked you to finger him, timid and so afraid it had made your heart hurt. You’d obliged, and you’d assured him over and over that you weren’t put off by his desires. If anything, you enjoyed giving it to him more than he enjoyed receiving it. Afterwards, the two of you had gone online together to pick out a strap on that Josh liked. You’d kissed him all over and told him that you would enjoy anything so long as it gave him pleasure, and he’d hit the ‘order now’ button. It had arrived quickly, but had since remained untouched and unmentioned. Weeks passed without him saying anything, so you hadn’t said anything either – afraid to push him too far.

But now, here he is, needy and desperate for it. He’s looking at you with complete trust, confident enough in your love for him that he’ll let you take care of him the way he needs it – absent of any judgment. Shaking yourself from your thoughts as you feel tears beginning to brim in your eyes, you lean over to the bedside table and open the top drawer.

You pull the toy out, the glossy black plastic reflecting the dim light. Josh’s eyes track its movement as you bring it over to you. You flick your eyes to meet his, giving him one more chance to change his mind.

“I’m sure.” He tells you, reading the unspoken question in your gaze. “Fuck me, mama. I want you to fuck me.”

“Anything you want, baby.”

With shaky hands, you slip into the strap – slow and deliberate as you secure it around yourself. Once it’s on, you slide the straps of your bra down, unclipping it and tossing it to the floor.

Josh watches you, eyes dark and lips shiny with spit. His chest is flushed a gorgeous red and his golden skin glows with a thin sheen of sweat. As you turn your attention back to his face, he allows his legs to fall apart, leaving himself on full display for you. Your own breath catches in your throat at the sight – suddenly feeling overwhelmed at the beautiful creature that lays before you, open and completely trusting in you.

You crawl up to him, the plastic cock bouncing obscenely as you move. You grab a bottle of lube from the nightstand and squirt a generous amount over your fingers.

“You ready, Josh? For me to take care of you?” You whisper, settling between his thick thighs.

He nods feverishly, chest heaving.

Slowly, you circle his rim with your finger, messaging the tight ring of muscle. You study his face as you press one finger into him. The heat of him envelopes your mind in a lust-drunk haze, the breathy whine that falls from his lips makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” You tell him, carefully stretching him inch by inch.

“Don’t stop!” He whines, mouth falling open as you add another finger. “God, don’t fucking stop.”

You scissor your fingers in him, focusing on the sounds that fall from his pretty lips and on the way his facial expressions shift with each movement of your fingers. He’s beautiful like this, completely spread out for you as you prep him.

“More.” He stutters out between heavy breaths, squirming and whining as you comply.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. So pretty for me, Josh.”

The sight of him, awash and lost to pleasure is affecting you more than you thought it would, and you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. You want nothing more than to reach down and give yourself some relief, but you abstain – instead focusing all of your attention on Josh’s pleasure. Tonight, you want this to be about him. He’s always so giving in bed, and he deserves to be spoiled.

You pull your fingers from him and he sighs at your absence. You wipe your fingers on the bedsheets before reaching for the bottle of lube. You coat the strap in it, wanting to ensure that he’s not uncomfortable at all.

Glancing up at you through half lidded eyes, Josh whines quietly in his chest.

“Fuck me, baby. Please. I’m so ready for it.”

“Ssshhh.” You shush him, lining your plastic cock up with his entrance. “You don’t have to beg, sweet boy. I’m going to take care of you. You know I will. Just be patient.”

Finally, you slowly sink into him, and you bite back your own moan as his beautiful noises hit your ears. They’re breathy, practically a whine – needy in a way you’ve never heard from him before. You sink to the hilt and pause, allowing him to adjust to the stretch, still slightly afraid of hurting him or going too fast.

He squirms beneath you, beginning to delicately rock his hips to meet yours, fucking himself lightly on your fake cock.

“Move, mama. Need you to move.” He grips the sheets in his fists, hands clenched so tight that his knuckles have turned white.

You oblige, beginning to rock your hips into him at a steady pace and he groans loudly in response.

“Look at you.” You mutter, more to yourself than to him. He’s the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen. “Feel good, baby?”

“Feels so good.” He moans, voice turning pitchy. You place your palms on the bed on either side of him, caging him in and bracing yourself to fuck into him harder.

“Fuck, please touch me.” He begs you, eyes completely screwed shut.

“Not yet, sweet boy. Be patient just a little longer longer. I’ll get you there.”

Selfishly, you don’t want this to end yet. Seeing him like this, completely lost in the throes of pleasure – pleasure that you alone are giving him, is like a drug. His moans and whines are addictive, lighting a fire in your veins as you fuck into him without mercy. His cock is red and leaking, angry and neglected as it bobs between the two of you. You’ll relieve him soon enough, but you allow yourself a moment longer to revel in this feeling.

You pull completely out of him for a moment, ignoring his groan of displeasure as you hook your palms behind his knees, pressing them up to his chest so that he’s practically bent in half. You thrust back into him, and the new position allows you to slip even deeper into him. You can’t feel it, but you can only imagine how tight he must feel. As soon as you bottom out again, Josh’s mouth hangs open in a silent scream. You’re almost afraid he’s in pain, but his hand suddenly shoots out and wraps around your forearm tightly – his fingers pressing into your skin harshly.

“Fuck, baby, right fucking there. Holy shit.” His words suddenly begin to slur together and you assume that with the new position, the toy must be brushing against his prostate – if the noises he’s making are anything to go by. His tiny whines have morphed into loud moans, and you’re thankful that the walls are thick. He’s never been this loud before, and your own desire at the sound of him threatens to overtake you completely.

“Fuck, harder, harder.” He chants as you piston into him, your entire body begining to shake at the effort with which your fucking him.

“M’gonna cum. Fuck!” He all but screams, and suddenly he’s finishing, shooting ropes of cum all across his taut stomach. You watch in awe as he cums completely untouched, and his orgasm seems to go on forever. You still in him, allowing him to come down from his high and back to the land of the living.

His eyes blink open at you and a dopey, fucked out smile spreads across his lips.

“Fuck, Josh,” you sigh out, “that was… the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He just mumbles at you, leaning his head back to rest on the pillow.

“Gonna pull out now, okay?”

He nods, and you slowly pull out from him. He hisses at the feeling, and stretches out his legs. You unclasp the strap from your waist and place it on the nightstand, before reaching down to grab his boxers from the floor. You carefully clean him up, being careful to not overstimulate him.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, concern washing over you as he just lies there with his eyes closed, chest heaving.

“More than okay. Fuck. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, baby. I love giving you what you want. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Always trust you.” He mumbles, sitting up and reaching for you. “Lemme return the favor, mama.”

You swat his hand away and place your hands on his shoulders, pushing him backwards so that his back presses back into the pillows again.

“Watching you was more than enough for me. Just want you to rest now.”

He frowns at you, but you just give him a soft smile before pressing your lips to his for a sweet kiss.

“Another time, baby. Tonight was about you. Let’s go draw you a bath. How does that sound?” You rise from the bed, reaching your arms out to help him up.

“Sounds nice,” He says tiredly.

He goes to stand, but his knees buckle as soon as he tries to straighten. You quickly wrap your arms around his waist, helping him to carry his weight. You giggle.

“Damn, you really did a number on me, huh?” He asks you through his own quiet laughter.

“You were just so patient for me, baby. You deserved a reward.”

-----------

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