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hiatuswhore · 2 years

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𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 — ɢᴏᴛ

A/n: So I am watching Game of Thrones for the first time and I always knew it would be an emotional commitment but damn. The Red Wedding put me in SHAMBLES. I know I’m super late to this fandoms but I’m currently on season six and could not get this fic out of my head until I wrote it. FEEDBACK please! So I’m gonna go watch some more episodes and then email therapist, thanks:)

SUMMARY: Oh to be young and in love. Foolish really, in the Game of Thrones there’s no room for love. Only life and death.

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

WARNING: Season 3 spoilers and Season 4 spoilers.

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The cries that leave her lips are unlike anything Jon has ever heard from her before. He grabs her arms, steadying her as her legs wobble beneath her weight. The cry of the twins drowns into nothing as Jon listens to her sobs in his arms. Samwell coos at the children to ease their sorrow, but they mimic their mother.

“(Y/n), you must gather yourself for your children,” Jon says as she buries herself into his shoulder.

“They have every reason to weep. If anyone learns who they are, who I am, Jon you know we will never be left in peace,” The room stills as Samwell calms the children. His smile falters at (Y/n)’s words, the giggling of the children filling the silence, “Jon?”

He says nothing as he waits for her to speak. Instead, she stares at the twins for several seconds. Eddard’s eyes twinkle as he giggles at the sight of his mother but not his sister. Raina stares as if she understands the news her mother receives, the blue of her eyes and the pull of her eyebrows reminding the world of her father.

“Where’s his body? Where is Catelyn’s body?” Jon inhales sharply, his body tensing as (Y/n) observes him. He tries to assure her that she does not want to know, “Please. I will never get closure if I do not know.”

“They—“He takes a deep breath, glancing at the twins again. Robb shines in his daughter’s eyes as his son wears his gentle stare. Jon’s gaze shifts to (Y/n), pulling her into a sudden hug before he speaks, “They stripped Catelyn naked and threw her body in the river. Robb was beheaded, and they sewed Grey Wind’s head onto his body.”

(Y/n)’ s eyes flutter shut as she grips Jon tightly. The two say nothing as they hold each other. After seconds? Minutes? Hours? (Y/n) pulls back, her voice thick with tears, “Robb always did say I have a pesky habit of being right.”

“(Y/n), you’re back!” Arya rushes to her side, nearly tackling the transient to the ground. “How long are you staying this time? I’ve been practicing what you showed me with shooting arrows. If my father says yes, will you teach me swordplay and hunting like you?”

“Arya, slow down, (Y/n) just arrived, and you crowd her,” The young Stark girl pouts as Robb cuts her short.

“Quite frankly, it is you who crowds me,” (Y/n) crosses her arms, joining Arya’s side, who grins devilishly. Robb closes the space between himself and (Y/n), ignoring his younger sister entirely.

“The seconds I take my eye off of you, you find yourself gone by the fortnight usually less,” Robb says, flicking your necklace holding a Stark sigil pendant, “Nothing has changed. I still intend to marry you.”

His face mere inches from her, she ignores how Arya stomps away, grumbling about her brother. (Y/n) studies his features as she wets her lips with her tongue. Robb watches with his mouth ajar as his eyes focus on her lips. She leans in painstakingly slow with a smirk tugging at her mouth. The moment their lips meet, hers take his own fervently, and she pulls away without warning.

She speaks in an enchanting whisper, with Robb clinging to her presence, “We will never wed, my wolf.”

“You were going to marry. Robb loved you more than anything,” Jon runs his hand down her arm before retreating entirely.

“It does not matter. We did not, and now I raise bastards that the crown will want dead. Descendants of a traitor and usurper,” Eddard calls out Mama holding up his hand to show nothing but slobber and dirt. A weak smile takes her lips at her children, but tired eyes plague her.

“They are Starks, and so are you. Smart and Resilient. The grandchildren of the honorable Eddard Stark, the hand of the King. Son and daughter of Robb Stark, King of the North,” He watches as her eyes do not leave her children. Raina’s unwavering stare, just as intense as her mother's. (Y/n) chuckles wryly, looking off at nothing—her mind elsewhere.

“Are you going to marry my brother?” Sansa asks the second her mother leaves the room. (Y/n) laughs asking if all the Starks await her answer.

“Of course we do. You are perfect for each other; you must be together!” The young girl exclaims, unaware of how cold the real world can be. (Y/n) smiles softly, stuck between pitying and envying the beautiful young Stark.

“You love, love stories, Sansa?” The question pulls an enthusiastic nod from the young girl, “That is the thing, Sansa, they are only stories. Marrying your brother and becoming a Stark is a big decision. Much larger than just love.”

“But one day, you’ll be the Lady of Winterfell. You’ll make little Stark Lords and Ladies. You’ll be happy here,” Sansa’s hopeful smile spreads like a contagion. (Y/n) offers a weak smile, requesting a moment alone in her chambers. At the shut of her door, she stands in front of her mirror, hand on her necklace, allowing a long sigh to pass through her.

“What am I to do, Mother? What would you do?” Her hand on her necklace, running her finger over the pendant she added a few years back.

"I should have heard the advice I tried to teach Sansa. Love stories are merely stories,” She runs her hands over her face as Jon mulls over the past few years. He frowns, unable to phantom the thought of all she must have endured leading up to their reunion at Craster’s Keep. Jon’s sure she was not alone with her children, as she claims.

“You’re wrong,” His voice is low and gruff with a hint of a matter-of-fact tone as Samwell lulls the twins to sleep. She narrows her eyes at the stoic man with skepticism in his eyes.

“Not a chance Jon Snow lectures me on love,” She says, failing to see how Samwell quietly listens in.

“The last time I spoke to Robb, he grinned ear to ear after announcing the betrothal. When we all thought Theon had killed you I sent out a raven but I never heard back from Robb. People say he was devastated. Just because it ended in tragedy does not change the fact your story was one of love.”

She peeks up at Robb as he leans on his elbow, carefully tracing a finger down her spine. The fire and furs keep the room warm as the two lay bare and tangled. Robbs' eyebrows pull together, focusing intently.

“What is on the wolf's mind?” His traces halt before he meets her gaze, a smile painting his lips at the sight of her. The firelight makes her eyes shine, only adding to the features he already finds mesmerizing.

“My father is the hand of the King, so I must assume the responsibilities of Lord of Winterfell,” Robb speaks in a low hum as he studies her face. A sardonic smile takes her lips as a glint shines in her eyes.

“Oh no, Lord of Winterfell! The horror!” (Y/n) rolls away, giggling as Robb playfully grabs her. She struggles beneath his weight until his hands pin her wrists above her head. The following pause consists of heavy panting as she smiles at him. Robb’s smile softens as he catches his breath. The look in his eyes far different than his usual longing stares.

“Sansa is set to marry the Prince. Arya will likely marry some high Lord, and Jon is taking the black. Things are changing (Y/n). I want this, us. Lord and Lady Stark. One day Warden and Wardeness of the North,” Robb loosens his grip on her wrists as he near begs. (Y/n) made sure to steer clear during the arrival of the King and his family. The King, Lord Stark, and the girls were set to leave for Kings Landing and Jon for Castle Black in the morning.

“Why are you so certain in us?” She speaks barely above a whisper as Robb joins her, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Because I know you, and I can make you happy. A simple life in Winterfell. Name a better match than us,” He challenges, saying his parents' names; the two of you chuckle quietly. The two falling quiet as she imagines the life Robb envisions for her in the North.

She does not dwell on the matter for long; staring up at the ceiling at his side, she cannot deny enjoying his presence. (Y/n) breaks the silence with amusement lacing her tone, “Your family is going to kill us for announcing this just before everyone leaves.”

Robb's head snaps in her direction as if she will disappear when he takes his eyes off her. She bites back her lower lip to reel in the giant smile that threatens her features. It takes Robb a few seconds to process her words before he cups her face. He grins like a madman as he captures her lips into a hasty kiss.

“Let’s marry with all your family in attendance,” She breathes in between kisses as he smothers her with his own lips.

“Our family,” He murmurs against her mouth as she places a gentle hand on his chest, pushing him back.

“You’re rather eager,” She teases; leaning close, he studies her thoroughly. Before holding a mocking tone and wide smile that glimmers in the low light, “We have a very serious responsibility of creating little Lords and Ladies of Winterfell.”

“Oh really?” Her playful smirk and soft chuckle erase all worries of the Starks heading to King's Landing.

“Of course, my Lady. When we have a girl, we shall name her Raina after your mother,” His words make her smile falter, her hand shooting to her necklace, “When she gets older, you can pass your necklace to her.”

“And if we have a boy?” Her eyes mist over as she covers with a gentle smile at his excitement.

“When we have a boy, little Robb Stark, will be second of his name!” Robb’s eyes twinkle as she rolls her own.

“Absolutely not,” She says, rolling to her opposite side, back facing the smirking Stark. He carefully kisses the crook of her neck, journeying up to the shell of her ear. His voice low and raspy, “I’m not done with you yet, Lady Stark.”

The door flying open makes the three rise to their feet. Ser Allister yells at Jon and Samwell that the Wildlings are coming. (Y/n) lifts the twins quickly, managing to not rouse them from their slumber, her sword dangling on her hip.

“Follow me. You can stay with Gilly and Little Sam,” Samwell says cheerily despite the circumstances as Robb exits the room first. Samwell follows behind Jon, and she walks behind them both. At the touch of the crisp North air, (Y/n) pulls the twins a little closer to her chest. She expertly navigates, walking downstairs, holding the two without looking down. At the bottom, Samwell turns left as Jon turns right, leaving (Y/n) to stare at Jon’s retreating figure. Her voice almost catches in her throat before she manages to call out his name. Jon halts, turning to find her staring with furrowed eyebrows and misty eyes.

“I—I can’t take another loss. Truly I am drained.” Her voice wavers as Raina snuggles further into her shoulder. She blinks back tears as Jon approaches her with a look she cannot figure out in his eyes.

“I’ll return to you soon. I promise,” Jon runs his hand gently over Eddard's face. The boy leans into the touch, blissfully unaware of the severity of the situation. (Y/n)’s face pales at his words as she fails to get insight on what the only other person she has left thinks.

“Robb made the same promise. I never saw him again,” Jon meets her weary gaze, sighing deeply at his promise. A promise that can very well be empty, one he cannot guarantee, at the sound of yelling from above marks the end of the conversation. Jon shakes off her words as ensuring she and her children not dying at the hand of Wildings becomes a top priority. Jon leaves her without another word, disregarding the haunted look in her eyes as she watches him walk away. Her eyes linger in his direction for several seconds before Samwell pulls her away.

(Y/n) sits with Brandon on his bed. Her days consist of helping Robb keep Winterfell afloat with both Lord and Lady Stark gone. Besides that, she spends her day keeping the little Lords company. The days seem almost ethereal as if (Y/n) and Robb hold all the happiness in the world.

Like a smokescreen before destruction, word of Lord Stark's arrest brings a halt to (Y/n) and Robb's domestic fantasy. She says nothing as Robb says goodbye to Brandon first. Waiting outside the door, she fidgets with her sleeve. Robb steps out of his brother’s room in full armor, appearing at ease.

“Let me come with you. You’ve seen me with a sword. You know I can handle myself,” (Y/n) pleas, stepping closer to him. He kisses her as if she’s made of glass taking her hands in his own. She sighs as he rubs patterns with his thumb on her palm.

“Exactly why I need you here with Bran and Rickon. In my absence, I gave word that my betrothed is the Lady of Winterfell to aid Bran. So when I return with my father and sisters, we will wed that very night,” The optimism in his tone does little to curb the uneasiness that boils in her chest. He moves to turn down the corridor, but she holds his hands a little tighter. A chuckle leaves his lips as he pulls her into another kiss, leaning his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” She mutters, and he smiles, saying the three words he has told her since they were small children.

“Don’t worry. I’ll return soon. I promise,” Robb says, walking with him to the gate. She lingers back as Robb and Theon speak. Grey Wind whines at her hand, begging her to pet his head which she obliges, muttering for the dire wolf to bring Robb home. At the sight of Robb climbing onto his horse, her mouth dries. Grey Wind runs toward the gates ahead of Robb, who slows and looks back. She wants to say something, anything really, but she does not. Robb flashes her a hopeful smile before riding off. She watches the gates long after Robb disappears from sight, unaware of what he takes with him and all he leaves behind.

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hlstead · 2 years

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Heey!

Requests are open for those characters, please read the rules and DM The requests!

ʚ house of the dragon ɞ

daemon targaryen, aemond targaryen

ʚ one chicago ɞ

jay halstead, will halstead, adam ruzek, hank voight, kevin atwater, dante torres

ʚ star wars ɞ

anakin skywalker, obi wan kenobi

ʚ top gun ɞ

pete ‘maverick’ mitchell, jake ‘hangman’ seresin, robert ‘bob’ floyd, tom ‘iceman’ kazansky

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lilylovelyxo · 1 year

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*Tony checking Bruce’s vital signs after a Code Green.*

Bruce: “Tony.”

Tony: “Yeah.”

Bruce: “You are touching me.”

Tony: “Well yeah.”

Bruce: “No.”

#incorrect marvel quotes #greys anatomy quotes #marvel #avengers #the hulk #bruce banner imagine #bruce banner #tony stark imagine #tony stark #anthony edward stark #robert bruce banner #the avengers #iron man #avengers x reader #bruce banner x tony stark #hulk

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attapullman · 5 days

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Robert's Laundry Service | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: A broken washing machine and a clogged bathroom sink lead you and Robert to explore the next part of your secret relationship.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Bob Floyd x afab!reader, no use of pronouns, no y/n, a little angsty, very smutty, 18+ ONLY as always, unprotected PinV, use of sex toys, language, a lot of cum mentions, neighbor!Bob being perfect as usual

A Note From Mo: Did anyone else miss neighbor!Bob? He needed some love, and that's what he's getting today! Thank you to @roosterforme for inspiring this idea that I took entirely too far. If anyone needs me, I'm going to be hoping that he moves into the empty apartment next to mine 🙏 p.s. this takes place before Stupid White Car

It’s hard to pay attention to the bad diagnosis he’s giving when your visual is just those threadbare grey sweats. Painted to his strong thighs, poking out from behind the washer like a personal serving of eye candy. You’re meant to be shining the flash light, but you long abandoned that task in favor of the view.

“…you can borrow mine in the meantime. I’ll call a guy Monday.”

Reluctantly, you draw your eyes from his lower half. Just as his words sink in.

“It’s broken?!”

Robert gives you a kindly amused grin. “Sweetheart, did you hear anything I’ve been saying?”

You grace him with a sheepish smile, caught red-handed.

“The tube disconnected from the wall and needs to be properly - professionally - connected before you use it again. I know it’s not the same, but you can do laundry at mine until someone comes out. I can make you tea and we can watch that undercover dating show you like?” His soft smile is as sweet as his offer.

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Hey now, you like that show too.”

Those cornflower blues shine, glad you’re not objecting. “I do, but only because it’s funny when you yell at the drama.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and guides you away from the laundry, back to where the two of you had been trying to decide on takeout over a game of checkers. Allowing him to drag you down to the couch, hips colliding into the soft fabric, you resume a lovely afternoon with Robert.

Robert, your helpful Mr. Fix It neighbor. And maybe, one day, your boyfriend.

Robert lending you his laundry room for the weekend is so generous. It feels a bit silly carrying your delicates through his back yard (especially when you know a few pairs are crusty from your…sleepovers) but you’ll take his selfless offer if it means clean laundry and a lovely afternoon spent with him.

As you work your way past the kitchen, you’re caught off-guard once again by how charming his home is. The little bits of personality, the framed photographs and handmade trinkets. While you know he can’t get any more perfect, his home makes a compelling argument.

The laundry room is fairly unremarkable - washer, dryer, large farmhouse sink for the unsavory jobs too nasty for the kitchen - but you do like his view of the neighborhood from the window. You’re almost curious if anyone will walk by and notice you standing in the wrong house, lacy balconette bra in hand.

Already regretting the amount of folded laundry you’re going to have to haul back through the gate after this, you begin prepping a load of lace and satin. Brainstorming ways to expedite the process, you overshoot pouring detergent into the water-filled drum and spill the cobalt goo all over your hand. Shit.

You rush over to the sink, subjecting yourself to freezing water to wash the detergent off your fingers. Once sufficiently clean, you reach for a cloth to dry off. And that’s when you see it.

Oh. You’ve never seen one in real life before, just in porn and the odd naughty ad while scrolling. It almost feels as if you’re being punk’d. Like if you sliced through it, it would actually be cake.

A cock ring, soft silicone and all. Casually sitting on the sideboard, freshly cleaned.

Every muscle in your body freezes as the implications of seeing something so private wash over you. Something meant between lovers that you had never seen in the weeks since that fateful night you let him in for a cup of tea.

It’s been a few days since you had last slept over. A scary sinking feeling fills your gut…was there someone else?

You had been so focused on the neighborhood not knowing. Staying in your homes, using the back gate. It wasn’t like you had ever verbalized your intentions with him. You couldn’t blame him for thinking the two of you as casual, as much as it twisted your insides.

As your thoughts spiral, there’s motion in the doorway and Robert is suddenly there, big shoulders and a soft smile on his face at seeing you in his space. Exactly where he wants you.

“You get it going in here? Find the detergent okay?”

Those kind cobalt eyes follow your gaze to the sink, where you can’t break your focus on the dark silicone device. The one he meant to put away before you came over. His cheeks flush as he steps into the room to attempt to explain why he has something so private sitting out - in his laundry room of all places.

But as he goes to open his mouth, you cut him off. “You don’t have to explain. I don’t need to know everything in your….sex life. You’re obviously welcome to do whatever you like in the privacy of your home.”

His eyebrows raise, unsure why you seem so upset when the only issue is a clogged sink in the ensuite last night.

You edge around him, desperate to get out of this space - his space - away from everything that reminds you of him as he figuratively slips through your fingers. “We never discussed being exclusive, so I get it.”

“What are you-?”

Tears threaten to spill over as he follows you toward his back door. “But if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with us seeing other people, so-”

Robert’s eyes bug out of his head. Seeing other people? His blood pressure rises as the dots connect behind those pretty eyes, and suddenly he’s racing to cut you off. You’re faster than you look, but before you can turn the handle of the back door he’s plastered his body against the wood, effectively blocking you from leaving.

The pain behind your eyes begs him to move, to let you run back to the safety of your own home so you can cry and despair over not locking him down sooner. Of course there’s someone else. Of course you’re not the only one who can see how great Robert Floyd is.

“Robert, I need to leave. I need a moment alone. Please.”

But he holds his ground. The second you walk through that door he knows he’s lost you. His eyes are cautious behind those thick lenses, wanting to obey your wishes but the risk of losing you making every nerve stand on end. Whatever is wrong, he can fix this. He will fix it.

“Sweetheart.” His fingers reach into the space between you, hand clenching into a fist when he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to touch you right now. “There isn’t anyone else. I promise, you’re…you’re the only one.”

You eye him hesitantly, wanting to believe his words. But that cock ring has never made an appearance in your sleepovers. Never once brought up when he’s standing between your parted thighs, lips slotted against yours.

“I really want to believe you, I do. But why else would you be cleaning your, erm, toy?” You can’t bring yourself to say cock ring without bursting into frustrated tears.

It’s now that the fight within him drops, and immediately his shoulders release. Embarrassment floods his features and he drops his gaze, no longer able to look you in the eye. This is not how he anticipated bringing this dynamic into your relationship.

“That…it’s…I-I use it when I’m alone. I like to, uh, edge myself.”

His cheeks are flaming and the burning despair inside you dissipates into intrigue. A flame traipses through your abdomen, curious and hungry.

“You use it…alone?”

He desperately nods, tentatively reaching out to grasp your hands, needing to feel you. Those thick, strong fingers rub against your knuckles soothingly. Despite the whiplash of emotions conflicting inside you, his presence immediately soothes and you lean into his touch.

“The nights you can’t come over…I prefer to save my orgasms for you. Only you.”

His blush reflects yours as you look into those ocean-deep eyes, the desperation clear across his features. He’s being honest, laying out every last secret he’s got to keep you here.

“So, there’s no one else?” Your voice feels so small, barely a whisper in the kitchen.

He shakes his head definitively, using his grip on your hands to bring you closer as he stares deep into your eyes. “There’s no one else. And the fact you would even think that means I’m not doing a good enough job proving how much I care for you. Because I like you so much, sweetheart, so, so much.”

The tension in your body breaks, and you allow yourself to lean into his strong body. His panic dissipates as he holds you to him, one arm flush against your waist as his hand holds your face to his chest. He’s never letting you go, of that he knows for sure.

He can’t believe there would be any doubt in your mind of his intentions. The sleepovers, the dinners in, the way he’s made a home between your thighs…that makes you official, doesn’t it? He’s never been one for the right words, but he was pretty sure his actions proved he was in this for the long haul.

You’re too important to mess up. To allow any seed of doubt to spread.

His nose traces along your temple, warm breath kissing the delicate skin. “Can I take you to bed, sweetheart?”

Your face lifts from his chest to take in his honest face. The loose tendril of sun-lightened brunette that’s escaped his neat hairstyle. The thin lopsided smile you trust in. Eyes behind corrected lenses that are serious and playful in the same breath.

In lieu of an answer, you mold your lips to his, drinking in his taste you’ve deprived yourself of for days. His kindness and sincerity sink into you, surrounding you the pleasantly overwhelming way his body does as he wraps around you. Holding your hips as he swallows your tongue, shifting himself to feel every dip and curve of your body.

As his lips find your neck, the laundry room comes back into view. A delicious thought swirls in your mind and the words burst from your mouth.

“Can I see?”

He nuzzles against your jaw, grinding his erection against your thigh.

“See what?” He’s distracted by how good you smell, how soft your skin feels beneath his fingers.

“I want to see you with the cock ring. Show me, please?”

Arousal floods his mind, images of you naked beneath him while his balls throb with cum just for you. No words needed before he’s pushing you in front of him to his bedroom. He’s ready to show you just how devoted he is to you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, it feels like the first time with him all over again. Anticipation of the unknown, drowned in heavy lust.

His eyes rake over you as he enters the room, lust darkening those soft blue eyes. You’re exactly how he wants you always - in his bed, eager for his touch. Right now, he’s yours.

Taking the spot between your legs, strong fingers stroking along jean-clad thighs, his broad frame bends toward you to rest his forehead against yours. That button nose knocking into yours.

“There’s been no one else since the day you moved next door. I’m yours, only yours.”

The build up of emotions behind your eyes threatens to spill over as he presses his lips to yours. Cups the back of your head as he leans into you, applying the softest pressure. Pouring every ounce of his devotion into his kiss.

Your legs wrap around his slim hips, needing to feel his security and care. He’s the most helpful man to exist, and you know he’ll guide you through this dynamic.

Kisses turn sweet to frantic to passionate as Robert holds your face. Your lips are chapped when he finally pulls away, strong chest rising and deflating. You know you mirror his disheveled aroused appearance. His hand reaches behind to his back pocket.

He holds the black cock ring between you, freshly washed, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight peeking through the curtains. “Are you sure about this?”

Your apprehensive eyes meet his, although a slight smile plays along your lips. “Play dirty with me. Please.”

Condensation beads on the lower rims of his glasses as he dips his face to kiss you, his skin flaming hot. The kiss is sinful yet curt, not wanting to lose himself before practicing restraint. You run your tongue along the seam of his lips, savoring his flavor. He hums against your mouth as your hands find his waist, heart picking up speed as your fingers find the button of his jeans.

Robert clenches the cock ring in his fist, already struggling to hold his load as the softness of your skin wraps tightly around his hardening cock.

His eyes are lidded, thin mouth already agape from the pleasure of your fist stroking firmly up and down his shaft. Can barely keep focus between the way you squeeze his deep pink tip and the spectacular view down your top, his mind running wild at the all the skin he needs to touch. He’s practically forgotten the reason for his view until you lick your lips sweetly and ask.

“Can I put it on?”

Fingers unfurl and present the silicone ring to you, warm from his clenched fist. You press the ring between your fingers, taking in the smooth design and thick circumference. Glide your thumb along the little button that makes it vibrate.

He’s panting above you, already wrecked at the vision. The only two things he deems worthy of his cock, right in front of him.

Bringing the ring up to your lips, he watches as you run your tongue along it, gathering your saliva to glisten along the silicone for a smoother glide. Your fingers effortlessly slipping along the edge before you touch it to the sensitive tip of his cock.

His fingers curl around the nape on your neck, holding the hair there, grounding himself. Between your ministrations and the pressure of the ring slipping down his length, he’s dizzy with stimulation. His cock immediately swelling in response. Lip between his teeth to contain the gruff moans you’re desperate to hear.

Your eyes are focused on the firm grip the ring has on the length of him, sliding down until your thumb is brushing his heavy ballsack, pulsing with need.

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to last.” He’s panting against your forehead, trying so hard to be patient, but wanting nothing more than to thrust into your fist and chase his orgasm.

You tilt his chin to press a chaste kiss to his lips. A promise to take care of him, because you and you alone are responsible for his pleasure. Always.

Sliding back onto the soft coverlet, you raise your hips to remove your jeans. Skin growing warm at the wanton look of need in Robert’s eyes as you unbutton your top. His voice but a whine when you sit in front of him in nothing but the delicate chain around your neck.

“So beautiful.”

It’s impossible to tell whose whimpers are more desperate as you run the shiny-slick swollen head of him against your core. Moaning as it catches on your entrance, ready to sink deep into those velvet depths. Voices becoming one as you impale yourself on the thick shaft that’s all yours.

He can’t believe anything could be better. This is Nirvana. Until you reach between to where your bodies meet and hit that tiny little button.

“Fuck!” He never swears, and yet that filthy word streaks through the room with a bite. Yelped loudly as he buries his face into your neck. The combination of vibrations and warm, tight pussy sending him into a spiral. Groaning out praises into your neck like it’s his last day alive.

You can’t help the grin on your face as you experience him come undone. How had you been denied the pleasure of watching him like this? The salt of his neck, the wayward curl stuck to his forehead? It’s a toss up if you’re getting off on being stuffed with his engorged cock or by watching the way his chest heaves for breath as he fights off his orgasm.

“Are you going to cum for me?” You’re drunk on power watching him like this, rutting his hips into you over and over for a pleasure that won’t come until you decide. His nod so desperate it goes right to your clit. His swollen cock stretching you beyond what you thought possible. The frisson of skin on skin, those tiny yet powerful vibrations, and his affection for you is overwhelming.

The ring fully still in place, your orgasm wracks your body, convulsing over the sheets. Barely able to notice his soft lips brushing the arch of your breasts as he consumes your satisfaction. Drinking in the sounds of your moans as they mix with his wet thrusts.

Your sleepy eyes are all he focuses on as he chases his orgasm, fighting past his usual routine of stopping here when he only has his hand. Right now he gets to have it all - the constricted blood flow, the vibration, and you. Perfect, wonderful you. His hands fist in the bedding, rooting himself, as sinks his hips deeper with precise strokes.

He can do this. He will show you you’re the only one for him.

Body quivering, his face is bright red as he thrusts, exertion bringing the vein in his forehead out with a matching bead of sweat. Robert feels his body take on a new consciousness as you ask for his cum once more.

His grunts are filthy - animalistic and deep. The first stream of cum he’s ever experienced with the ring on filling your stretched pussy, claiming you as his. Head fuzzy, he takes a moment to pull himself from your soft embrace and jerk his engorged cock, shot after shot of cum pumping out across your body. A painting only he gets to witness.

His tank now empty, you feel the soft thump of his body fall beside yours. Hear him catch his breath in the quiet afternoon air.

Exhausted, his face knocks into yours - glasses already lost to the coverlet - as he comes to reality once again. Strong arms reaching to pull you to him. Lackadaisical kisses to your cheek before risking a glance down and laughing abashedly.

“T-there’s so much cum. It’s everywhere.” Another kiss. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The carefree yet sheepish grin he gives you melts your heart. You kiss him back, not needing to look as you feel his seed dry on your skin in the golden hour light. He very truly marked you as his, just as he is yours.

Smoothing your fingers through his hair, memorizing every little detail of his face - what a handsome face - you ease his embarrassment. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll just throw the sheets in the washer and enjoy dinner. It’s fine, really.”

His washer currently filled with your delicates complicates things, but your big, sweet smile soothes his self-consciousness. He returns the grin back, holding you closer.

That night is spent eating Robert’s lasagna and playing cards until every light on the street went out. It’s far too late when the sheets are finally clean and dried, and even later when they’re successfully on the bed. But it’s worth it to him when you crawl under the duvet and beckon him closer, needing one last kiss from your boyfriend before sleep.

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queenshelby · 10 months

Text

Chemical Reactions (P. 1)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Smut in later parts, Age-Gap, Infidelity

Words: 1,867

Note: The fic is spoiler free and fantasy.

It was just before Christmas when you took up a scholarship at Berkley and, since you were young woman at the tender age of twenty-two, you still could not believe your luck.

You got in to one of the most sought-after courses in the US when it came to quantum physics, which was a field so new and progressive that, to many, its attributes appeared to be rather absurd whereas, to you, it was a way of understanding the world.

The class you had applied for was that of J Robert Oppenheimer who was a well-known physicist and whilst you had only ever read about his works in the academic papers at Harvard, you were eager to finally meet the man whose work impressed you so much.

Being female in the field of physics, however, came with a price. Your skills had often been disregarded because of your gender and being excluded from experiments was not unusual either. As such, you were cautious and kept your obvious excitement at bay as, no doubt, criticism was a concept that your fellow students knew just too well and, in your mind, it was always easy for others to criticise those who they did not yet know, i.e., the new and possibly only female student in their class.

***

On your first day, when you arrived to the impressive building, you realised that you were over twenty minutes early and this, too, was not surprising.

You were punctual most of the time and when you weaved your way through the building, you were surprised by how little time it took for you to find the lecture room, which, thankfully, was unlocked and had a few other students already inside.

You selected a seat one row from the front, in a spot that, to most professors, said "I am eager to learn” which you hoped was beneficial seeing that, at least for now, you were the only woman in the room.

“Would you be accepted by your peers?” you pondered, but your thoughts were quickly interrupted when, who you assumed to be your professor, entered the room.

He was a frail but attractive looking man, wearing a grey suit that was matched by a white shirt and a dark coloured tie. He was smoking cigarette and put his dark brown leather satchel on the table in front of him, rifling haphazardly through the mess of papers inside.

Against your will, you felt a displeased look settle onto your face. Is the professor's class going to be as disorganised as his abyss of a bag, you wondered? Were those other students' assignments in there, begging to be lost?

You smirked for a minute at the intrusion of your very own thoughts about Dr Oppenheimer before you instinctively pulled your cheek in between your teeth which just when more students began to fly in to the room.

“Oh look, someone must have gotten lost” one of them was quick to say with a grin as he had spotted you and your neatly laid out stationary.

“The biology classes are conducted down the hall, in the third room to the left” was what another one said, causing you to rise from your seat in order to speak up against this nonsense just before the professor himself did it for you.

“And what makes you presume that she is in the wrong room, Mr Handley?” Dr Oppenheimer asked almost sternly and his reaction most certainly surprised you as, until now, you did not think that he had even noticed you.

“She is a woman, sir” the man stammered somewhat reluctantly, causing the professor to furrow his eyebrows.

“And you presume that this prestigious establishment seeks to exclude women from studying in the field of physics?” Dr Oppenheimer then asked, causing you to grin silently. “That seems rather absurd, wouldn’t you agree?” he then went on to add, causing the young man to nod.

“Of course... I mean, of course not” the student stammered just before Dr Oppenheimer began to call roll which is something you did not even notice as you were too transfixed on his demure and the way he presented himself until, eventually, your hand shot up at the sound of your full name.

“Present” you said, feeling a blush coming to your cheeks as the class and Dr Oppenheimer looked at you, the latter's blue eyes lingering on you a bit longer than the others.

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, not sure of the intention behind it and then, suddenly, he spoke:

"Miss Y/LN, now tell us, what have they been up to at Harvard these days? This is where you have transferred from, correct?” the professor then asked just as his look towards you intensified even more. His deep blue eyes were seeing right through you and yet you managed to answer him confidently.

“Not much in so far as the physics department is concerned, Dr Oppenheimer. In the last year we experimented with nuclear fission, but I assume that, considering the current political climate, so has everyone else. We then looked at metaphysics, stars, the universe…” you explained before sharing some of your findings and conclusions which impressed not only Dr Oppenheimer but also some of the other students.

When listening to you talk, it became obvious to him that you were rather intelligent even at such a young age and your interest in science was one of great significance.

“None of this is new” one of the students then said nonetheless after you finished your explanations and outlined your conclusions, to which you responded rather sharply yourself.

“I didn’t claim that it was. I simply answered Dr Oppenheimer’s question” you pointed out and the professor was quick to take your side again.

“And I appreciate your thorough explanation Miss Y/LN. It helped me understand where you are at when it comes to the presumed knowledge for my class” Dr Oppenheimer went on to say and you knew that, whatever the true reasons were behind his questions, his intent was not as innocent as he made it out to be. He wanted to know whether the physics department in Harvard knew more than the physics department at Berkley which, luckily for him, was not the case.

The entire profession was well aware of the ‘program’ about to implemented by the US government and several physicists and educational departments began to protect their research with more earnest for a chance to cash in on the war.

But, Dr Oppenheimer did not appear to be one of those reserved physicists who were just in it for themselves. To the contrary, he really cared about making a difference and his research to date was well known within in the industry. He did not mind sharing his findings even if they were inconclusive and you have heard many stories about how he enjoyed working in the faculty as part of a group rather than on his own.

He was a leader but also a team player and, as such, when he wrapped up his questions for the day and announced the research project for the coming days, every student around him broke out into appreciative chatter as you remained in your seat, slightly dumbfounded, as the students were broken up into four groups.

---

“You worked in experimental before, have you not?” Dr Oppenheimer asked as, after a little while, he approached you and the group to which he had assigned you.

“I am pleased to know that you have read my file Dr Oppenheimer” you smiled after giving him a nod, which too is when you realised just how handsome he truly was. He must have been in his late thirties and seeing a wedding ring on this man’s finger came as a disappointment to you.

“I have read all of my students’ files” Dr Oppenheimer assured you just as you stood awkwardly at your table for a moment, debating whether or not to take the courage to ask him the millions of questions you had for him already until, suddenly, he prompted you to do exactly that.

"Did you have a question for me?" Dr Oppenheimer asked innocently as if he could have read your mind.

“Uhm…” you paused while cursing yourself already for having started your sentence with that godforsaken 'uhm' which, in your opinion, made you sound like an idiot.

"Yes, actually. I was wondering if, with this formula, you have considered the possibility…” you began to question, seeing how he had arrived at the calculations already presented to you and, just as you spoke with such great determination, you trailed off a bit as his gaze intensified.

“Quite frankly, you lost me there, at the end of your calculations but that is not to say that you are wrong” Dr Oppenheimer said almost politely as you looked at him somewhat flustered, causing your fellow students to chuckle and whisper behind your back.

“I must have lost my own train of thought just then. I am sorry sir” you said with blushing red cheeks as all of your confidence flew out of the window and you suddenly became aware of the way he was standing, with his hands against his hips, and the way he looked all together.

“Don’t be sorry Miss Y/LN. In fact, I am interested in exploring that idea of yours further, perhaps even after today’s lessons if you have time” Dr Oppenheimer then said as he adjusted the way he stood and smiled.

“That would be my pleasure, sir” you responded as you watched him spread his arms out on the table in front of you, far past shoulder width. He was leaning on his hands, causing the veins on his forearms to bulge slightly, which were exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of his white button-down shirt. He had his head tilted down a bit to look at you with those deep blue eyes until, eventually, he snapped out of his very own and somewhat intrusive thoughts which were thoughts you knew had nothing to do with quantum mechanics whatsoever.

Dr Oppenheimer then licked his lips lightly before speaking again, distracting you from the first few syllables of his sentence.

"Good, then please come and see when you finish for the day, Miss Y/LN. I will be right here, trying to figure out what you were on about” Dr Oppenheimer then said just as the bell began to ring and the students started to pack up their bags, seeing that most of them had experimental workshops to attend to in the afternoon which, of course, included you. You too had a workshop, which was one you did not look forward to.

“Yes doctor. I will see you this afternoon” you told him with a reluctant smile as you pulled your lab coat closer to your chest and forced your face to remain neutral, even as you felt the heat burning up your neck. You then gave him a curt "thank you" before lifting your chin and turning to leave.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #Oppenheimer #oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer #j robert oppenheimer x reader #robert oppenheimer

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bussyslayer333 · 2 years

Text

Need to know

summary: an accidental call to your boyfriend on girls night leaves everyone shocked at a revelation they never thought they would have; bob fucks.

pairing: robert floyd x girlfriend!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: allusions to smut throughout but none actually, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a daddy kink, one mention of 50 shades of grey as a joke 😭

part 2!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Bob, Rooster and Coyote were all sat on the couch in Hangman’s living room whilst an old 80s rock record played through the speaker, watching the latter animatedly talk about some new position him and his girlfriend had tried out the night previous.

“And then I had her leg wrapped around my neck Javy, it was literally insane.”

Javy laughed at his best friend’s antics whilst Rooster spluttered, “You’re so full of shit Bagman! Not even a gymnast could pull that off.” Bob nodded in agreement and Jake started up again.

“Rooster, you’re just mad that the grannies you’re ploughing in missionary get arthritis before you can finish.”

Bob couldn’t even politely hold in his laugh at the dig as Coyote started to smack his arm in an effort to stop cackling, whilst Rooster huffed something about how she was only two years older than him with an eye roll. Now filled with the urge for revenge Rooster decided to strike the first person in his eye line.

“How come we never get to hear about you and your girlfriend Bob?” Rooster questioned, which was cruel of him. He knew Bob was a private person but the alcohol they had slowly been consuming over this ‘boys night’ had lowered his inhibitions slightly and he was still seething from Jake’s dig so Bob seemed like the easy target. Bob shrugged as the boys turned to him expectantly.

“It’s not gentlemanly, I dont expect she says anything about us to her friends either,”

Coyote seemed pleased with his response and slapped him on the back a little too painfully before putting in his (unwanted) two cents.

“See that boys? Always the southern gentleman hey Bob?”

Jake laughed loudly at the two admissions he had just heard.

“What bagman?” Bob asked, growing more agitated by his friends who were a little more inebriated than he was.

“You are out of your depth if you think Phoenix, Halo and our girlfriends aren’t talking about us specifically in the bedroom right now.”

Reminded of your current whereabouts, Bob began to wonder what you and your girlfriends talked about on your bi-monthly girls night. After all that is why he was drinking at Hangman’s place. Jake would never admit it but he hates being alone in his house without his girl, hence the invitation to boys night being sent out to his friends. Bob was about to speak up again when ‘My Girl’ by the temptations started playing from his pocket, signifying that his girlfriend was indeed calling him. Jake giggled out,

“Seriously Baby on board, I promised my girlfriend I’d start being nicer to people but you are making that promise so goddamn hard right now.”

Rooster felt bad for starting up this conversation and came to Bob’s defence,

“I love this song,” this prompted a fake gag from Jake into Javys face.

“Can you guys shush for like one sec,” Bob pleaded before answering the call.

“Hey baby,” Bob spoke.

No reply. Weird.

“Hello?” Bob spoke again, he could hear muffled sounds but no clear words. Begrudgingly switching the phone to speaker in one last attempt to hear you clearly, Bob held his phone out and the boys leaned in rather too nosily for Bob’s liking. There was more muffled noises until a sound rang out that the boys assumed was you moving your phone into a better position.

“Hi baby,” Bob tried again, but it became obvious that you couldn’t hear him. He reached to end the call when a voice rang out.

“YOU CALL HIM WHAT?!” Jake’s ears perked up, he would recognise that voice anywhere, that was unmistakably his girlfriend. Jake gestured for Bob to put his phone on the coffee table so they could all hear where the rest of this conversation (which was definitely not meant for their ears) would go. Bob felt slightly bad that this would be an invasion of your privacy, but that feeling quickly subsided when he heard your response.

“Look, Daddy kinks aren’t even that uncommon, Jake has made you do even crazier stuff and you can’t even argue that!”

Rouge began to spread across Bob’s cheeks and he reached to end the call to prevent further embarrassment in front of his closest friends. However, all three other boys seemed to be working in tandem as Coyote moved to hold Bob down and Hangman held the phone away from him all whilst Rooster reminded Jake that he should mute themselves so that they shouldn’t have to worry about a noise coming from them which would alert you of the call currently taking place without your knowledge.

Phoenix cut in before Jakes girlfriend could retaliate to your earlier statement. She was curious,

“And like.. you enjoy that?” Bob was reminded of the sheer amount of people who he worked with who were now aware of a certain preference he had and he cringed.

Your giggle was heard across the phone and the boys struggled to contain their own.

“I mean when I first met him I was not expecting it at all, but like… it’s so hot when he takes charge,” the girls all squealed and you were spurred on, “the other week he even tied my hands up so I couldn’t touch him when he went down on me.”

More squeals ensued but not just from the girls, Rooster was surprisingly high pitched when he wanted to be. Halo squawked out,

“Phe I cannot believe your little back seater is a total fifty shades of grey type freak!”

Jake’s girlfriend seemed to find this even funnier than everyone else,

“‘Little’! Ha! You’re funny Halo!” This intrigued the two female pilots even more as they prodded at you. Phoenix spoke up first,

“How am I supposed to look him in the eyes after this?!” She laughed.

Halo then decided to question you further, “Okay, I’m gonna move my hands apart and you tell me when to stop,”

A snort from Jake’s girlfriend followed and then silence for a few seconds. The boys stared Bob down suddenly wishing they were with the girls. A shriek interrupted their train of thought and Bob buried his face into his hands.

“NO WAY!” Halo all but screamed. You winked at her and she screamed again, “God, no wonder I saw you limping around the Hard Deck the other day!”

Rooster looks up at this revelation and questioned Bob, “Bro you said she hurt her knee at work,” Bob smiled sheepishly and Coyote continued his annoying habit of smacking anyone in the near vicinity when he finds something particularly funny.

Bob shushed them all as you began to speak again, “Look if we’re being honest now I want to admit something else,”

“Please have a sex dungeon, please have a sex dungeon, please have a sex dungeon, please have-”

“Jake shut the fuck up he does not have a sex dungeon,” Rooster came to Bob’s defence once again, “…do you?”

Bob scoffed at the absurdity of Roosters question, “Hey! I was just checking man!”

You started up again, “that time I lost my voice from a mean cold… it was not a cold.” The girls shrieked with laughter, “and that’s all I’m saying on that matter.”

There was movement on the phone as Phoenix finally spoke up from her laughter, “I need another drink, anyone else for one?” There was a combination of yeses and Halo got up to help her retrieve what was left of the wine.

There was more shuffling then a loud gasp much clearer than everything else the boys had heard, they looked at each other and grinned.

Jake’s girlfriend looked up from her phone and asks you, “whats up, babe?”

“I’ve been on call to Bobby this whole time.”

Bob couldn’t help but laugh at your use of the sweet nickname after seemingly revealing all of yours and his dirty secrets.

Jake’s girlfriend ever the people pleaser tried to reassure you, “Well we didn’t hear anything from them? Maybe he butt answered your butt dial?”

You breathed a sigh of relief at her words, because they made sense right? You reached to end the call but then a voice from your phone spoke up.

“Baby, you are far too optimistic.” Jake chuckled into the phone hoping to surprise his girlfriend.

Jake’s girlfriend laughed and you gasped, “Jake! Hi um… sorry how long have you been on the phone? Is it just you there?”

A chorus of laughs occur from the boys side of the phone and you groan into Jake’s girlfriends hair.

Rooster speaks up this time in a teasing tone, “Best behave for Daddy tonight Angel.” And you groan even further into Jake’s girlfriend as Phoenix and Halo return with wine in hand.

Phoenix gives you a confused look and you explain, “I butt dialled Bob.” Halo threatens to spill the remnants of wine with how hard she is shuddering with laughter.

Phoenix speaks into the phone, “Hi boys!”

Coyote laughs and responds, “Hey Phoenix!”

You finally dare to ask the question that’s been plaguing you, “So how much of that did you actually hear?”

Your sweet, loving boyfriend finally spoke up, “From about the daddy kink up until now, Sweetheart.” He chuckled.

“I’m so sorry, Bobby.” You cringed.

“Don’t worry about it, just be glad I’m not trying to break your legs like Bagman is with those positions with his girl.”

You giggled into your friend again whilst protests from Jake could be heard.

“Okay Baby, well I’ll see you soon?” You asked and you could practically hear Bob’s smirk through the phone.

“Yes you will, Sweetheart.”

After hearing his response you absentmindedly tap your phone to end the call and place it face down away from you.

Jake’s girlfriend piped up, “at least he didn’t hear us talk about you know what!” And you all giggled in relief.

“WE DONT KNOW WHAT !” Jake yelled into the phone.

“Still here Sweetheart,” Bob laughed, and you hurriedly picked your phone up.

“Oh my god what is wrong with me ?!” You whined. Bob laughed in response and Phoenix took your phone ending the call definitely before something too embarrassing was revealed.

Halo piped up, “I suggest a no phone rule at the next girls night!” You groaned into the pillow behind you.

The boys were staring at Bob, somewhat awestruck.

“What?” Bob laughed.

“Why are we all pretending we don’t wanna know what his dick looks like now?” Rooster asked.

Bob pulled away just quick enough before his arm became anymore bruised from Coyote’s violent laughter so Jake fell victim instead.

Bob almost felt bad for Jake but then he spoke up, “Daddy! Help me!” With a shit eating grin on his face.

God, you were in for it when you got home.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: i have always been a part of the bob fucks agenda but here is my little contribution HAHAH,, also i thought maybe a lil continuation w jake and his gf here ??? if anyone wants more on those two lemme knowww!!

lew lew i love you 🫶

pls comment, reblog or message me and tell me what u think !! all notes are appreciated <3

thank u for reading :)

- honey <33

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 6 months

Text

The Golden Ratio - Part One

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Derogatory language, angst, mentions of parental death, mentions of infidelity. Word count: ~4.5k

Chapter summary: Her relationship strains under the pressure of long distance, though she has her classmate, Michael, to help distract from the worst of it. Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @assortedseaglass. No tag list. Please follow @ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She is sweaty and exasperated as she drags her suitcase over the cobbles of Holywell Street. One of the already precariously wonky wheels had finally given up the ghost and broken off as she’d dragged it up the stairs of Oxford train station, making the fifteen minute walk to her accommodation more tiring than it needed to be.

But she was here, finally. Oxford University.

Her dad had sold the car to make sure she had money to live on until her student loan and maintenance grant had been paid to her. He didn’t want her taking a part time job to make ends meet, she’d worked hard to earn her place here, her focus should be on her studies. Coming from a low income family meant she had qualified for the maximum amount for both maintenance loan and grant, but her first set of application forms had been misplaced by Student Finance, so she’d had to send in a second set, meaning there would be a delay with her first payment.

An unfortunate consequence of her dad not having a car is that she’d had to get the train to London Victoria, a tube to Paddington, then another train to Oxford. But it is not the fact that she is seemingly the only student whose parents aren’t obstructing the pavements with their cars in order to drop them off that makes her feel like an outcast, there is something deeper, more sinister feeling.

She sees it as she struggles to get her bag across the lawn of the Halls, people grouped in little clusters, as though they’ve been friends forever. They dress in Juicy Couture velour tracksuit bottoms and brand name Ugg Boots, while she wears her mum’s old Dr. Martens and a tartan skirt she’d bought in a charity shop for one pound fifty. She doesn’t fit in. She feels she may as well wear the word “poor” across her forehead like a scarlet letter.

Having checked in at the Porters’ Lodge and been given directions to the accommodation, it’s lonely as she unpacks her things, her room feeling empty and quiet. The only sounds are muffled talking and laughter coming through the closed window from outside. She feels lonelier still when she pulls out the framed photo of her and Rich. They’re both smiling, his arms wrapped around her waist as she leans her head against his. It had felt like their relationship would last forever when that picture was taken. That seemed like much less of a possibility over the last couple of weeks.

She had met Rich at the beginning of sixth form. Having attended Chatham Grammar School for Girls, she had decided to stay on there to do her A levels. The mathematics department was decent, and she had heard Russell Group universities were more likely to consider applications that came from grammar schools. Rich had transferred over from Robert Napier School. Where she was shy, quiet and reserved, he was lively, outgoing and sociable. His zest for life had shone a bright light on an existence that was, for her, otherwise dull and grey.

They were an unlikely pairing. She was logical, analytical and studied maths and physics. Rich was creative, free spirited and guided by emotion. He studied art and music. They had been together for two years and she had thought he was the one. But then it came time for UCAS applications, and where she had applied to Oxford, Cambridge and York, Rich had applied to Leeds, Brighton and Glasgow. It seemed that no matter where they were accepted, they were destined to be apart.

When she had received an unconditional offer from Oxford she had been elated, however, the crushing devastation upon hearing Rich had been accepted into The Glasgow School of Art with a conditional offer had quickly dulled her excitement.

She had never felt like an outsider or a loner when she was with Rich. Basking in his sunny disposition had felt effortless, she never felt alone. He was going to take all of that away, and she was unsure of how to cope with it.

“We’ll make it work long distance, don’t worry,” he’d told her, and she’d believed him.

But then he had actually gone to Glasgow. Fresher’s week in Glasgow started a week earlier than it did in Oxford, so Rich had moved away first. It didn’t take long for the texts and phone calls to dry up into nothing. She had heard from him once in the last few days.

She sighs as she slides up the screen of her beaten up Nokia. Still nothing. She had text to let him know she was leaving for Oxford today and he couldn’t even be bothered to reply. She knows it’s his first week at university and he’s likely busy and having fun, but how was long distance going to work if they never actually spoke to each other?

Despite the loftiness of the dining hall, it feels stuffy as she moves through it later that evening, taking a seat at a long table crowded with other students. She had hoped that the Fresher’s welcome dinner would be an opportunity to make friends, but everyone seems to be deep in conversation already. The chatter hums loudly like white noise, until it comes to a sudden stop.

“FUCKIN’ ASK ME A SUM THEN!”

She turns, mouth agape, to look at the pair of boys sitting a few places up from her. One is darked haired and seems nervous and uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly in his seat. The other is blonde, an angry, intense expression on his face, shadows cast across it from the lamplight on the table, as he stares in wide eyed anticipation. It was him who had shouted, clearly.

“Four hundred and twenty three times seventy eight,” the dark haired boy asks quietly.

Instantly his friend replies, without missing a beat, “thirty two thousand, nine hundred and ninety four.”

Involuntarily her eyes widen in surprise. She sits there and does the calculation in her head, though much more slowly than he had.

Carry the two, eight times two is sixteen, plus two is eighteen, carry the one…he’s right. How is it possible that he came to that answer so quickly?

When her gaze lifts he is looking at her, observing her doing the working out in her head. He holds her stare, a smirk curving the corners of his mouth. He knows she knows he is right, and it’s clear he feels smug about it.

Quickly looking away, she reaches for her water glass, wanting something, anything, to distract her. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her feel uneasy.

God, I hope I don’t have any classes with him.

She holds her timetable for the week in her hands as she moves her way through the corridors towards the lecture hall the following morning. The first week looks to be fairly light touch, with an introductory lecture for each of the courses; algebra, analysis, probability and statistics, geometry, dynamics and multivariable calculus. Today is the introduction to analysis, and she is excited to study under the tutelage of Professor Helen Byrne. Her research focuses on the development and analysis of mathematical and computational models that describe biomedical systems, with particular application to the growth and treatment of solid tumours, wound healing and tissue engineering. Professor Byrne is someone she has admired within the field for as long as she can remember, and she is very much looking forward to her tutorials with her.

Her excitement fades when she enters the lecture hall and immediately sees the angry guy from the previous evening.

Just my luck.

The only available seat is next to him, so she sits down, dropping her bag to the floor by her feet.

A hand extends out towards her in her peripheral vision, taking her by surprise and she turns in her seat towards it, shrinking back slightly.

He seems utterly unperturbed by her reaction, keeping his arm extended. “I’m Michael Gavey.”

She blinks, regaining her composure as she leans forward, shaking his hand and introducing herself in return. His palm is clammy against her own, and she can still feel it there even after having let go and wiped her hand on her jeans.

“I saw you last night,” he says matter of factly, pulling his arm back and resting his elbow on the desk in front of him.

“Oh, yeah,” she says with a tight smile, nodding, “so you and your mate…is that like a party trick or something?”

“No, no party trick,” he says with a demure smile. “I’m a genius.”

She forces herself to laugh politely, assuming he’s making a joke, but she stops, her brow furrowing slightly when she sees he doesn’t share in the humour. He’s being serious.

Opening her mouth to ask a follow up question, she’s interrupted as Professor Byrne sweeps into the room. Her and Michael both face forward in their seats as she introduces herself to the class.

Over the next hour they are given an introduction to the course and what to expect in their first year, including an overview of the papers they will need to write and examinations that will be sat. She pays rapt attention, scribbling furious notes, until the lecture begins to wrap up.

“As it’s the first week, I will go easy on assignment setting,” Professor Byrne tells them all, “but there will be an assignment nonetheless.”

A loud, collective groan echoes around the lecture hall. Her and Michael are the only two not to join in.

“Now, now, settle down,” she chastises, “it’ll be fun. I’m sure you’re all aware of the Fibonacci Sequence, a series of numbers where each number is the sum of the two preceding numbers. Mathematically we can describe this as–”

She turns and scrawls xn= xn-1 + xn-2 on the chalkboard, before facing the students again.

“--I’d like you all to find an example of the Fibonacci Sequence in real life and present it back to the class during next week’s lecture. You’re to work in pairs, so buddy up, and see you all next week.”

Professor Byrne places the chalk back on the desk before striding back out of the lecture hall. The room is instantly a buzz with chatter, as people move between seats to find a partner.

She stays rooted in place, suddenly wishing Rich was here. It’s in moments like these that he flourishes, allowing her to take a backseat as he effortlessly navigates them through social interactions. Instead, she is alone and the space around her feels bigger and scarier with every moment that passes.

It’s only when she turns her head that she notices Michael has yet to move too. Gathering all the courage she can muster, she clears her throat and speaks to him.

“So…er…did you wanna partner up for this thing then?”

“I don’t like to work with others,” he says matter of factly, keeping his gaze fixed ahead.

“I’m not exactly thrilled about it either,” she says with a sigh, “but for this assignment we have to.”

“You’ve picked me because I’m a genius. You’ll expect me to do all the work while you get pissed with your mates.”

He fixes her with an accusatory stare, and she feels the heat of anger prickle her skin.

“Haven’t got any mates,” she mutters darkly.

He observes her for a few moments, elbow propped on the desk, jaw resting against his fist, and she fidgets self consciously in her seat. No wonder the other boy from last night had looked so uncomfortable. It feels like he’s studying her.

“Let’s go to the library,” he says simply, standing and picking up his bag.

“So, you’re a genius?” She asks, opening her notebook once they’re seated opposite each other at a table in the library, nervously tapping her pencil against the page.

“Hmm,” Michael nods, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, “I don’t even like maths, really. I can just…do it. Anything. In my head.”

She’s struck by how blunt he is, sucking in a breath as she considers what to say next. There is something so disarming about him, she gets the sense he’s analysing her every word and action.

“Right,” she begins, “so, er, for this assignment I was thinking about how Leonardo Fibonacci used rabbits to prove his theory. One hundred and forty four pairs of rabbits can be produced from a single pair of rabbits in a year, based on the sequence.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” Michael replies with a sigh.

“What?” She asks irritably, annoyed by his dismissal.

“What are you expecting us to do, go to a pet shop and buy rabbits? We’ve only got a week to do the assignment, we need to be more practical.”

She rolls her eyes. “I was using that as an example, not saying we do that exactly! Come on then, genius, what’s your suggestion?”

“Spirals,” he says with a slight shrug. He leans across, placing the tips of his fingers on her notebook and sliding it towards himself, before picking up her pencil. “There is a special relationship between the Fibonacci numbers and the Golden Ratio, a ration that describes when a line is divided into two parts and the longer part - A - divided by the smaller part - B - is equal to the sum of A + B divided by A, which both equal one point six one eight. This is represented by the Greek letter,” he stops to scribble a φ on the pad. “The ratio of any two successive Fibonacci Numbers approximates the Golden Ratio value.” He stops again, scrawling 1.6180339887 on the page. The bigger the pair of Fibonacci numbers, the closer the approximation. From there, we can calculate what's called the golden spiral, or a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor equals the golden ratio.”

She is stunned into a silence for a moment, a combination of his audacity to simply take her belongings, and awe at the rapidity with which his mind works. Collecting herself, she blinks a few times, looking up into his eyes.

They’re so blue.

“So…er…how do you propose we present this data back to the class?”

“A simple table is sufficient, look–”

His hand moves rapidly over the page, a complete table there on the paper when he drops the pencil into the gutter of the notebook and sits back in his chair.

“We present that,” he tells her, his eyes fixed on the page. “Using the values of the sequence as the edge length of squares arranged in the table, a spiral is generated.”

She leans over, sliding the notebook back to her side of the table, marvelling silently at his work. He is fascinating to watch. He’s right, he can just do maths.

“It’s good,” she says, eye flitting up to meet his, “solid. But it’s fucking boring.”

This time it’s his turn to be annoyed. “What?” He asks, eyes narrowing.

“Everyone is going to present something like this, because it’s easy,” she explains, “Don’t you want to stand out to Professor Byrne? We should do something outside of the box.”

“Hmm. Go on then, what are you thinking?” He rests his cheek against his fist, leaning against the table as he stares at her.

She feels herself grow warm under his scrutiny.

Does he always have to be so bloody intense?

“There are loads of examples of Fibonacci numbers appearing in nature. We could look for some? Flowers, perhaps.”

“I’ve got hayfever,” Michael states simply.

She sighs.

Of course you do.

“Then we’ll get you some Piriton! Come on, there are studies that show seed heads, pinecones, fruits and vegetables all displaying spiral patterns that when counted express Fibonacci numbers. This fits perfectly with the brief of the assignment and will leave a lasting impression.”

He moves his hand away from his face, resting his arm flat on the table and quietly drumming his fingers against it for a few moments. “Alright then,” he finally concedes.

“Great,” she grins excitedly, tearing out a page from her notebook and writing on it hurriedly. “Here’s my number, so we can meet up to work on it, and also my Hotmail address, in case MSN works better for you.”

He huffs through his nose as he takes the paper from her, a soft laugh escaping him. “The countess at hotmail dot co dot uk,” he reads with amusement, “very droll.”

“Shut up,” she grins back, “I made that in secondary school. Thought it was funny.”

Back in her room that evening, she’s excited to see she has a text from Rich, finally.

Hope ur enjoying it. Having so much fun here!

She sighs, throwing her phone down on the bed side table. No kisses, not even an “I love you”.

Watching out of the window, she sees the giggling groups of students making their way out into town, readying themselves to spend the night drinking, making friends and having fun. Just like Rich is doing, not giving her a second thought, while she stays cooped up in her room without a friend in the world.

Suspicion nags at her, so she turns on her laptop, loading up MySpace. Rich takes number one place on her top eight friends, and she clicks on his profile. It looks much the same as it always does, but she decides to snoop further, clicking into his friends list. She can see he has recently friended a girl named Sophie.

Sophie is pretty, bright pink streaks in her hair, and a nose ring. Exactly Rich’s type. Her most recently uploaded photos are of groups of people, clearly all taken during Fresher’s week. A pit forms in her stomach as she sees that in almost all of them Sophie and Rich have their arms around each other. Worse still, Rich occupies space eight in Sophie’s top friends.

She closes the browser, blinking back tears. Surely, she is just being paranoid. They’re just friends. Friends have photos together, and it was normal that he would make new ones when he went away to uni.

Opening MSN Messenger, she hovers over Rich’s username. Unsurprisingly, he’s offline, he always is these days. She smiles when an add request from [email protected] pops up. Of course he’d have Tau, the mathematical constant, in his Hotmail address. She clicks accept and he immediately appears in her online contacts. Looks like he isn’t out tonight either.

Double clicking his username, she chuckles to herself upon seeing his display picture is of Pythagoras. Such a dweeb.

“Want to work on our assignment tomorrow?” She types to him.

Barely a few seconds pass before she sees him typing back. “Yes. When?”

“We could meet at the Water Meadow at lunch time?”

“See you then.”

Straight to the point, no idle chit chat. She shakes her head and closes the messenger window, though finds herself strangely excited by the thought of seeing him tomorrow. She reasons that it’s because Michael is the closest thing she has had to a friend since arriving at Oxford.

She visits the nearby Tesco Express the following day, buying a meal deal for each of them and a packet of hayfever tablets for Michael. She has no idea of what Michael even likes, so plays it safe by buying a bottle of Oasis, a Crunchie bar and a ham and cheese sandwich for them both.

At precisely noon, Michael stands at the entrance to the Water Meadow waiting for her. She smiles as she looks at his t-shirt; maroon with a diagram of a circle on a gradient with a downwards acceleration of 9.81 meters per second, with the slogan “that’s how I roll”. A mechanics pun.

“Like your shirt,” she says as she approaches him.

He grins. “Thought you might, considering your email address.”

She averts her gaze. There is something about the fact that he’d thought of her when he’d chosen what to wear today that makes her tummy flutter.

Stop it. You’ve got Rich. Michael’s weird!

“I got you some hayfever tablets,” she tells him as they start to walk along the pathway that’s flanked by green space on either side. “Do you wanna have lunch first and then start looking for flowers?”

They settle, cross legged on the grass, Michael already having taken one of the tablets, chased with half a bottle of Oasis, and she spreads out the food between them.

She watches in fascination as his eyes widen at the sight of the Crunchie bars, snatching one up and tearing off the wrapper. Her mouth falls open slightly as she sees him hold it sideways, biting into it from the side, before devouring each of the pieces it inevitably breaks into.

“You like Crunchie bars then?” She asks, a little grossed out, but curious nonetheless.

He swallows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Mother didn’t allow me to have sweets growing up, bad for your teeth, she said.”

She nods, a feeling over pity replacing the disgust that had roiled her stomach just seconds ago.

“So, is it your mum that pushed you into studying maths?” She asks, fiddling with the lid of her drink bottle.

“Sort of,” he says. “Mother never married, but she wanted a child. She used a sperm donor - a physicist, apparently - and was artificially inseminated to have me. She was thrilled when I showed a natural aptitude for maths, and has always encouraged me. It’s why I do it, why I accepted the scholarship, to make her proud. She’s been through so much to have me, it’s the least I owe her.”

Her face falls, a feeling of sadness overwhelming her, making her heart ache for Michael. There is something so tragic about the fact that he has lived his entire life adhering to the expectations of the person who had created him for their own selfish want of a child.

“What about you then?” He asks. “The bank of mummy and daddy paying for you to be here?”

She shakes her head. “I earned my place, just like you did, with straight As, though I don’t have a scholarship. Have had to take out loans to cover the cost. It’s just me and dad since mum passed away.”

“Oh,” Michael says, blinking rapidly, obviously surprised. “Apologies, I’d assumed a pretty girl like you would be the same as the rest of the vapid cunts studying here, if you can call it studying.”

She hums in acknowledgement, considering his words, turning her own Crunchie bar around in her fingers, focusing on the way the foil wrapper slides against her skin. His compliment makes her heart beat more rapidly, even if it is backhanded. “Like I said yesterday, I’ve got no mates. It was always Rich that was better at that sort of thing.”

“Rich?” Michael asks curiously, cocking his head.

“My boyfriend. He’s at uni in Glasgow.”

“Three hundred and sixty two point nine miles,” Michael states simply.

“Pardon?”

“That’s the distance between Oxford and Glasgow,” he explains, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “How are you planning to make a relationship work with that sort of distance?”

“We’re doing long distance,” she argues, feeling herself growing defensive, scowling at him.

“Yeah, I bet that’s gonna work out great,” he scoffs, eyes widening, clearly mocking her.

“The Glasgow School of Art was the best choice for Rich to study what he wants to,” she retorts.

A grin spreads across his face. “Art?! I suppose you should be grateful he’s hundreds of miles away then, he sounds like a moron.”

She huffs, hurriedly shoving her things back into her bag. “Let’s just look for these fucking flowers and get this over with.”

The pair work for the rest of the afternoon in silence, the atmosphere is tense and angry, but they are productive nevertheless, settling on a patch of sunflowers to use for the assignment.

They look at the spirals of seeds in the center of the sunflowers and observe patterns curving left and right. Counting these spirals, their total is a Fibonacci number. They then divide the spirals into those pointed left and right to get two consecutive Fibonacci numbers.

Cutting down a couple of sunflower heads to use as examples, Michael also makes a diagram in his notes for them to present with their findings.

She feels satisfied by the time they part ways, but an uneasy feeling has settled over her that has dread gnawing into her gut as she thinks about Michael’s criticism of her and Rich’s long distance relationship.

Unsurprised to see she has no missed calls or texts from him when she goes back to her room, she opens up her laptop and logs back onto MySpace. This time when she looks at Rich’s profile her blood runs cold as she sees that Sophie now occupies space number three in his top friends. He’d had time to log on and change the position of a girl he’d met a couple of weeks ago, but couldn’t be bothered to send her a single message?

Before she can stop herself, she’s pulling out her phone and calling his number. She doesn’t care if this wastes all of her credit, she needs answers.

It rings for ages, and she anticipates being sent to voicemail, until he eventually answers, sounding breathless and distracted.

“H-hello?”

“Rich, it’s me,” she says quietly.

There’s a pause before he answers. “Oh…how’s my little nerd? Everything okay?”

She ignores the familiarity, keeping her tone neutral. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.”

Not giving him an opportunity to respond, she pushes on. “Has something happened between you and this Sophie girl I’ve seen you on Myspace with?”

Another pause, except this time she hears him inhale a deep breath. “I was going to tell you when we came home for Christmas break. It felt wrong to break up with you over the phone.”

It feels as though the bottom of her world has been ripped away, her heart twisting painfully as her vision blurs with tears. She swallows thickly, anger bubbling alongside her devastation, so that her tone is venomous when she replies “So, you were just gonna keep stringing me along for two months, so you could look like a good guy?!”

“Babe, no, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I just–”

“You’re a piece of shit,” she cuts him off, “fuck you!”

She hangs up, chucking her phone down onto the bed, and immediately bursts into tears, holding her head in her hands as hot tears stream down her face, her shoulders shaking as her nose grows snotty.

Two years. Two fucking years and he’d chucked it all away for someone he’d known for two weeks.

She walks towards the sink in her room, looking into the mirror and sighing at her reflection. Her eyes are red and puffy, she looks a mess. Splashing cold water onto her face to rid herself of the worst of it, she then flops down onto her bed, opening her laptop.

Immediately she is met with her MSN chat window with Michael from the previous evening. He’s online.

Without thinking, she types out a message to him.

“Do you have any alcohol?”

Within seconds he’s typing a response.

“Would you like me to have alcohol?”

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 9 months

Note

Hello!! I love your work so much ❤🥰. I wanted to know if I could request something with Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia? Something fluffy, loving with him?

Thank you so much ❤🥰

Dr Cupid.

Synopsis - Mickey Garcia passes out in hospitals. Luckily, this time there's a pretty nurse there to catch him.

Pairing - Mickey Garcia x Nurse!Reader

Warnings - a little cursing, a lot of tooth rotting fluff. mentions of blood and hospitals.

Age Rating - 16+

Word Count - 1.5k

Author's Note - thank you for this request!! i love mickey so much. i've been a HUGE danny ramirez fan for years, so i was so excited when he was cast in top gun, and mickey did not disappoint. an angel <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

You pull back the crinkly blue curtain with a bit too much force, startling the man sat on the edge of the bed.

"Sorry!" you apologise, closing it behind you. "These things are always lighter than I think they're going to be."

"It's alright, ma'am. No worries."

He's handsome. Really handsome. Big blue eyes, golden blonde hair, an air about him that exudes intelligence and compassion. You smile at him gently before retrieving his chart, giving it a once over quickly.

"Lieutenant Robert Floyd. United States Navy."

He introduces himself, shaking your hand formally. You tell him your name, and he repeats it carefully.

"Pretty name."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Please, call me Bob."

"Thank you, Bob."

He smiles at you bashfully, nodding his head.

"So, Bob, what seems to be the problem today?"

"Training exercise gone wrong. I'm clumsy. You can probably tell by my medical history."

You look over the chart, and laugh softly.

"So you are. What happened this time?"

"It's just a little cut, on my shoulder. I fell onto it, onto the tarmac. I told everyone I didn't need to see a doctor, but they insisted."

"Well luckily for you, I'm a nurse," you wink, chuckling when he blushes. "Let's get this shirt off you so I can take a look. You mind if I cut it?"

"Go ahead."

You cut a line clean down the middle of his t shirt, an old, grey thing. It falls off of him, allowing you to see his shoulder wound.

Just as you're about to explain your next steps, the curtain flies open, a man in a flight suit rushing in.

"Sir, can I help you?"

"He's with me. He's in my squad," Bob reassures you. "Fanboy, you don't have to be here."

"I want to be."

"Fanboy?" you ask, confused about the unusual name.

"It's my call sign. We're pilots. US Navy."

"Why didn't I know they had pilots in the navy? I thought that was the air force."

Fanboy grins at you, all gleaming white teeth, before holding his hand out for you to shake.

"Lieutenant Mickey Garcia. Weapons Systems Officer."

You tell him your name, followed by 'nurse', which makes them both laugh.

"Well, Mickey, if you take a seat, I'll patch up Bob here and you can both get back to flying your jet planes."

Mickey steps around you, eyes darting over Bob as he goes. He catches sight of his bleeding shoulder, and all the colour drains from him.

You've seen this before.

He goes pale, and then wobbles on his feet. You stride over and wrap your arms around him, catching him as he passes out.

"Shit," Bob swears. "I'd help, ma'am, but I'm a little out of commission right now."

"It's alright," you chuckle. "This happens a lot. I'm stronger than I look."

You manage to walk Mickey backwards, sitting him in the chair that you originally sent him towards. You cradle his face in your hands, holding up his head. His eyes flutter open, straight onto you.

"Did I die? Is this heaven?" he whispers.

Both you and Bob try not to laugh as you check him over.

"I'm afraid not, Lieutenant. You're in the hospital, visiting Bob. He's hurt his shoulder. Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," he murmurs, embarrassed.

You grab him a cup of water, placing it into his hand carefully.

"You okay?"

His big brown eyes are locked on you, not leaving for a minute. He's beautiful, you realise suddenly. Yes, Bob is handsome, but Mickey is beautiful.

"I get a little weird around blood."

"You're telling me."

The smile he gives you is enough to move mountains.

"Okay, Garcia, listen up. You're gonna sit here and drink your water. Take big, slow, deep breaths. And do not, under any circumstances, look at Bob, okay? Keep your eyes on me, no matter what."

"Yes ma'am."

You leave him in his chair, returning your attention to the blonde. You take a good look at the wound, and decide it'll need a couple of stitches.

"I'm gonna clean this up for you, and sew it shut. I'm sure you'll heal fast, being a healthy pilot and all."

You glance over at Mickey, and see that he's still watching you. Gazing at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

"Bob, I won't lie to you. This is going to hurt. Feel free to hold onto me if you need to."

You numb his shoulder, before getting to work stitching it up. You flick your eyes to Mickey intermittently, smiling gently when his stare meets yours.

"Garcia, did you bring any spare clothes? I had to cut Bob's shirt off. I doubt he wants to walk out of here shirtless."

"Yeah, Phoenix has a bag in the waiting room. I'll go and grab it."

You watch him carefully as he stands, making sure he doesn't pass out again. He leaves, and Bob grins at you.

"He likes you."

"Everyone likes me, Bob. I'm a good nurse."

"No, he likes you. That's the quietest I've ever heard him sit. And he took your orders. He doesn't do that for anyone."

You shake your head, smiling as you do it.

"Are you single?"

"Very forward, Lieutenant."

"For him, not for me! You're beautiful," he justifies, "but I'm sort of dating my copilot."

"Sort of?"

"It's complicated."

"Then make it uncomplicated, Bob."

He thinks for a moment, before nodding.

"You're right. I'm going to talk to her."

Mickey comes barging back in with a t shirt in hand.

"Phoenix packed you an overnight bag, just in case. She says this is your shirt anyway."

You look at Bob and wink, chuckling when he blushes.

"Anything else, ma'am?"

"That's all. You've been a perfect patient Bob," you say, squeezing his other shoulder. "If you go to the desk, they'll give you some spare dressings for when you need to change it. Besides that, just take care of yourself, okay?"

"Okay. Understood. Thank you, for everything. I appreciate it."

The two of them leave in a flurry of thanks, Mickey casting a longing glance back at you. You can hear them bickering on the other side of the curtain.

"Fine!" you hear Mickey say, before he reappears.

"Uh... hi."

"You forget something?" you ask, looking around the bed.

"Yeah. To ask you out."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, corners of your lips twitching.

"And to apologise. For before. Passing out, and all. I, uh-"

He scratches the back of his neck nervously before perching on the edge of the bed. You move to sit next to him, leg pressing into his.

"I practically grew up in a hospital. My Dad wasn't a nice guy, so my Mom was here all the time."

You lace your fingers with his, resting them on your thigh.

"I used to try and clean up her injuries at home the best I could, but sometimes it wasn't enough. He finally left when I was thirteen, and I didn't have to play doctor anymore."

He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"Now, as an adult, I have this crazy reaction to blood. Even just a papercut is enough to have me hyperventilating. I guess I saw so much of it when I was a kid, that I can't handle it now?"

He looks at you expectantly, unsure of what you'll say.

"It's way more common than you think, you know. I have people pass out on me all the time. You're not alone, I promise."

He smiles at you softly, and you're convinced you've never met someone more beautiful.

"I have a friend who works on the fourth floor. She's a psychiatrist - which I know people roll their eyes at, especially men - but, she's really great to talk to. About anything. She can help with phobias. I've seen her do it."

He nods almost imperceptibly.

"I mean... it can't hurt to talk to her, right? Just once?"

"Exactly. I can give you her number, you can give her a call whenever suits you."

He nudges your shoulder with his, your hands still linked.

"Thank you. Bob doesn't love hospitals either, but you really set his mind at ease today."

"Just doing my job."

"Trust me, you're doing a hell of a lot more."

You feel the heat rise up your chest, praying he can't hear how fast your heart is beating.

"I know you probably work crazy shifts here, but... would you like to go for dinner sometime? I'd love to get to know you in a less... uh... clinical setting."

You grin at him, squeezing his hand tightly.

"I'd love to. As long as you promise not to pass out," you wink.

"That is a promise I cannot make."

You laugh with him, shaking your head.

"I should get back to work. God knows this place needs me."

"Of course. Do your thing, SuperNurse."

You lean over and press a kiss to his cheek, handing him a card with your number on.

"Call me."

"What time do you get off?"

"7."

"I'll call you at 7:01."

"Deal," you laugh, pulling the curtains back.

You watch as he leaves to join Bob and a woman you assume is Phoenix in the waiting area. You wave at Mickey as you go, the other two pilots looking between you with knowing grins on their faces.

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fayes-fics · 4 months

Text

When The World Is Free: Chapter 1 - Sous le ciel de Paris

MASTERPOST | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Welcome to the start of my new multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Please note that while I do have a plotted outline, I will be posting chapters as I write them, and I expect that process to take quite a few months. Please bear with me! This first chapter sets up the story - reader moving to Paris in the summer of 1939 and bonding with her new flatmate, Eloise Bridgerton. Please note that Benedict won't be turning up for a couple of chapters yet. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

August 1939

Emerging from the underground Trocadero metro stop, you round the corner of the recently completed, gleaming Palais de Chaillot and stop dead in your tracks. There before you is the most iconic landmark of Paris. Perhaps all of France.

La Tour Eiffel.

Breathtaking in its metallic magnificence, glowing in the setting sun. A sight that buoys your travel-weary soul seven days after you left New York: boats and trains finally bringing you to this wondrous spot. A light breeze even dances over your neck in greeting, a balm from the cloying subterranean heat of the metro.

It's a light elbow check to your arm that pulls you back from a state of reverie.

“A beautiful sight, but one you’ll get used to,” your uncle Robert chuckles, shaking your heavy leather case to indicate it's time to move along. “In fact, I've been told you will be able to see it from your appartement…”

He has accompanied you to Paris and will see you settled into your new adventures before continuing on to visit friends in England. He spent the roaring 20s living right here in the 16th arrondissement himself and, indeed, has arranged for you to share living quarters with a young British lady, a relative of his English friends. It's a comfort to know you’ll have at least one English speaker to chat with as you dive headfirst into learning proper French as you go.

Robert leads you away from the amazing sight and into the bustling streets, alive with cars, trams, bicycles and pedestrians buzzing in all directions. It's all at once like New York City, but yet so different as well, cafe terraces filling the wide pavements with all manner of people gathered to sip robust cafe au lait and refreshing limonade.

Within minutes, you are on a quieter side street and stopping outside a handsome honey-coloured stone facade with wrought iron window balconies and window guards, teaming with colourful, fragrant flowering pots. The number 14 gleaming white on a traditional navy blue tile. Your uncle pushes the enormous wooden door open, beckoning you into a cool whitewash wall corridor with mosaic floor tiles.

“Ahhh, Robert!!” a sophisticated middle-aged lady bustles from a nearby doorway and greets your uncle warmly, kissing both cheeks. It would appear they are friends of old.

“Y/n, this is Madam DuLac, your landlady,” he explains as you offer a handshake, admiring her boucle jacket and chic bun.

“Qu’est-ce?” she signals with a good-natured frown, obviously finding your polite greeting lacking, pulling you into a hug and two-cheeked kiss. She smells like Chanel perfume, cigarettes and baked goods. “You are in Paris now, ma chérie; this is how we greet one another,” she counsels in heavily accented but perfect English.

“You speak English?” you sigh, relieved, your French decidedly lacking.

“Bien sûr,” she smiles. “And please call me Solène,” she adds with a friendly smile.

“Eloise should be home from the library maintenant; the perfect time for you to meet,” she gestures towards an elevator cage surrounded by a sweeping grey marble staircase.

“I think I would prefer to take the stairs,” you admit, nerves flaring at the idea of such a contraption.

Your uncle laughs. “Well, I am taking it; I am not hefting this case of yours up five flights of stairs,” he adds dryly as you gaze up the swirling stairwell.

“Five storeys?” you squeak.

“The view is the best from the top,” Solène advises as she rattles back the cage entry and steps in, looking at you expectantly.

Reluctantly, you follow, all three of you and your luggage crammed into the metal cage as it jerks to life and begins its ascent.

“You will get used to it,” Solène smiles as she reads the apprehension on your face, your vice-like grip on your small vanity case and handbag.

Luckily, the lift reaches your destination safely. One shudder before it stops, and the door concertinas back in Solène’s hand to reveal a sweeping hallway with doors left and right.

“Ici,” she signals, the last door on the right-hand side.

But before you can knock, the door peels open, and a pretty, petite brunette jumps in surprise, dropping the book she is holding.

“Pardon,” she offers in perfect accented French, and you wonder for a split second if it is the correct apartment.

“Eloise, this is y/n,” Solène gestures.

“Ohhh, hello,” she grins, and the whiplash back to a plummy British accent is momentarily confusing. “I was about to go read in the courtyard, thought you might not be turning up today. Anyway… come in, come in!”

You shake her proffered hand as she ushers you into the apartment. Instantly, you feel a warmth spreading in your belly, like you have come home. It's light and airy, with large windows looking out across the Parisian rooftops, and yes, to the left is indeed the Eiffel Tower, still gleaming in the fading evening light. But the place also feels homely, that sort of messy that is lived in, comfortable. A large velvet sofa with tumbling stacks of books around it, a little kitchenette awash with colourful enamel cookware, and a jumble of art deco posters and random paintings adorning the walls.

“Solène, I don't suppose you've baked any more of those rather delicious madeleines, have you? To welcome my new housemate?” Eloise pipes up with a chipper, conspiratorial wink your way.

You already like her.

“Effronte!” Solène exclaims with fond exasperation before pausing. “There may be some…”

“I remember those!” your uncle adds with a tinge of nostalgia as he drops your suitcase. “You are in for such a treat, y/n.”

“Well, while our landlady decides if she’s willing to share the treats she has obviously baked but is being coy about…”Eloise raises a pointed eyebrow at the woman before returning to you. “...let me show you your room, then maybe a drink? I'm sure it's been a long journey.”

You nod and, with an exchange of grins, follow her down a corridor. She sweeps open the door to a lovely room, a large double bed with matching bedside tables and a dresser. But best of all, french doors onto a Juliet balcony overlooking a quiet courtyard filled with a riot of birch trees, their leaves gently rustling in the evening breeze.

“Mostly, it’s pesky pigeons down there, but you do get the occasional blackbird singing in the morning,” Eloise smiles as if intuiting your thoughts.

You spend some moments wandering the room and checking out the various fixtures, running idle hands over the furniture, already feeling remarkably at home with your new housemate and, indeed, your new home for the next twelve months.

“I'm just next door,” Eloise reveals, pointing a thumb over her shoulder.

Your uncle appears in the doorway to announce that he and Solène are off to catch up as you unpack and suggests you all reunite for dinner later at a local bistro. It all sounds so very Parisian chic; you cannot wait.

“So tell me about yourself,” Eloise flops onto your bed, already wonderfully casual in your presence, as you open your case and the wardrobe to unpack.

“I’m y/n. I'm from a little town on Long Island called Patchogue, about fifty miles outside New York City. I'm 22…”

“Me too!” she interjects, then signals for you to proceed.

“I wanted to see the world before I settled down. And I’ve dreamed of living in Paris since I was a little girl...” You feel your eyes misting at the fact it's now finally coming true as you continue. “So my parents agreed to pay for me to come to Paris for a year. Under the strict agreement, I get married when I return…”

“You have a fiancé?”

“Yes. Well, sort of. Stanley. We practically grew up together, and we’ve been going steady since we were eighteen.”

“Going steady? That's so American,” Eloise chuckles.

You nod with a giggle, then continue. “He hasn't proposed formally yet, says he is saving up for a ‘real nice’ ring, but it will happen. He is the son of my dad’s business partner. They run a construction company. So, while I'm here, they are building a home for us to live in when I return. We will get married next summer and move right in.”

“You don't mind?” Eloise frowns.

“Don’t mind what?” you query as you hang up your favourite dress.

“That your future is so… plotted out. I couldn't bear the idea. It's why I think my mother let me move to Paris. She was so fed up with me refusing to settle down.” Eloise laughs, idly flicking through the magazine you were reading on your journey.

“I suppose I've never really expected anything else,” you shrug, pausing as you put away your hosiery, but her words make you contemplative. “You don't have a boyfriend back home?”

“God, no. Too many pretty Frenchmen to entertain me here,” she winks. “I’ll introduce you to some, just in case you change your mind,” she breezes, climbing off your bed and drifting to the door. “Wine?”

“Oh… well, why not? When in France, etc,” you agree and close the drawer on the pile of cardigans you have just safely stacked.

“That's the spirit!” she effuses over her shoulder as you follow her back into the living room, the Eiffel Tower still glittering in the dusk.

“This place is so lovely,” you sigh, transfixed by the view as she wanders over and hands you a glass.

“It is a pretty magical view,” she agrees, staring at the skyline with you, watching as each window seems to illuminate in soft yellow with the dying light.

“And the decor, too; I see you love books as much as me,” you smile, tilting your head to the piles before taking a sip of red wine. It's the perfect balance of refreshing, mellow fruitiness and tart tannin coating your tongue, so much better than any wine back home.

“Oh god, yes! I work in the library. I can bring home as many as I want,” she enthuses.

“So, are there actually any left on the shelves?” you jest, lightly, savouring your drink and wandering to take a closer look at a smaller painting that catches your eye. It's very different to all of the others.

“My god, this is beautiful,” you breathe, hugging your wineglass to your chest as you stare transfixed at the art. It appears to be a large country house, probably British, bathed in the warm pinkish light of dawn.

“That's home. Aubrey Hall in Kent. I think the family made me bring it in the hopes it would make me homesick,” Eloise deadpans.

“It’s a wonderful piece,” you breathe, fingers reaching out to lightly trace over the heavily oiled brushstrokes. Something about it is so captivating and intimate.

“I'll be sure to let the artist know,” she smirks. “Although I'm reticent to give him any more praise, seeing as, unfortunately, he is my brother.”

“Your brother painted this?” taken aback by the revelation, assuming it an heirloom.

She nods and comes to stand next to you. “Yup. Benedict. Second eldest. I'm fifth of eight, by the way. Hence ‘E’ for Eloise. It's a thing,” she rolls her eyes.

“Wow. Big family. I just have one brother...”

“Lucky you. Although, as much as he is irritating, if I could only keep one sibling, it probably would be him,” she admits, taking a swig of wine.

“I love art,” you sigh, finally tearing your gaze from the canvas but already knowing it is something you will return to again and again. A pull you can’t quite understand.

“Oh, then I know the perfect job for you! There’s a gallery around the corner from the library, and I saw a sign saying they wanted an English speaker to assist international visitors! You would be perfect!”

“I would love that!” you extol, even as a tiny part of your brain lingers on the idea that it would be too good to be true if it all worked out, that fleeting sense of foreboding in paradise.

“Excellent!” Eloise’s enthusiasm pulls you back to the immediate. “So let’s get your glad rags on! It's time to hit the town for your first night in Paris!”

And thus, you find yourself being bundled back into your room to refresh and change for your first night in the city of your dreams. Indeed, as you find yourself being led by Eloise, arm looped in yours, through the bustling evening streets to a little bistro, your uncle and Solène already waiting at a table with smiling faces and drinks in hand, you can't help but feel this really is the only place in the world you could ever want to be…

Your adventure is just beginning.

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#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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axelsagewrites · 9 months

Note

Hey there just m back again with a request where it’s cerisi and roberts daughter who’s married to Robb. Can it be it’s after the red wedding she survived and she spent her time hinting those who participated in the red wedding but she gets brutally killed and somehow like whoever did it brings her corpse to Cersi and her reaction and maybe Tyrion reacting to the news too as he was quite close to her

Robb Stark*Don't Die For Me

Pairing: Robb x Baratheon!F!Reader

Word count: 3638

Warnings: the red wedding, robb dying, cat dying, reader dying, description of war/injuries, pregnancy, angst

Masterlist Here

The gown was made from thick snow-white wool, trimmed with a soft grey wolf fur with streaks of black. Stag horns were embroidered along the cuffs, yellow gold fastenings holding it together. Lannister red hearts were hand stitched by Myrcella around the hem of the dress. It was warm and thick and span out like a dancer’s dress whenever you twirled.

People gasped when they saw you enter the gods wood, arms linked with your father as you approached your husband. Robb wore simpler clothes with a heavy fur cloak over his shoulders that he would soon drape over your frame.

Sansa watched the wedding doe eyed and Catelyn felt her eyes grow wet at the sight of her son, smiling down at his betrothed as they made their union promise. The king tried to look stoic, clearing his throat umpteen times to keep his tears back. Tyrion stood front row, much to your mother’s dismay and wearing the beaming smile you would have expected from a mother.

Your mother stood stoned face as she watched, smiling when looked at by anyone but you. she gave you a knowing look. “He will be your husband. Nothing more. He will share your bed, but you will have separate chambers. he will tell you how to act. You must listen when he is there. You must choose your battles and the most important ones will be what comes out between your legs,” her lessons rang in your ears when you had met Robb for the first time.

You knew she wanted to protect you the way she thought she needed to. To her Robb was a stranger, a threat, the captor of her daughter, the thief in the north, the unknown. What she did not know was the way Robb softly stroked his fingers over your cheeks when he held you or how he rubbed his hands over yours to warm them.

She didn’t notice how he would let you walk in front and was happy to follow behind. She didn’t notice how grey wind went to protect you when someone stepped out of line. She didn’t notice the lingering glances or the way his hands held yours a moment too long once the dance had stopped. She didn’t notice. She didn’t want to hope.

You however had noticed his affection for you. you noticed how his cheeks tinged pink when he helped you on your horse or how he laughed loudly at jokes he barely understood. You noticed he would reach for his sword when a stranger approached or how he smiled when you walked in the room. The same dopey smile he wore when he swore to protect you.

The ceremony had been beautiful, done in front of the heart tree as you pledged to the old gods and new. When you arrived at the feast it was already filled with excitement as the south and north began to mix. You danced first with Robb then each of his sisters then his brothers, including Jon who had been nervous to take the floor with you, but you had insisted.

You danced with your father who choked out a teary piece of advice. “Never forget you are my daughter. When you need me, you’ll have me,” he told you privately on the dance floor. While he trusted ned with all his heart you knew he would miss you.

You danced with your siblings, even convincing Joffrey to join you. Your mother stayed sat in her chair all night, but you made sure to talk to her even if you could see the nerves behind her eyes. Your uncle Jamie gave you a tight-lipped smile but not much more while your uncle Tyrion was only two drinks down and already very excited.

“My little niece has gotten married,” He proclaimed loudly as you approached his table and laughed at his state, “Oh how my heart breaks. Stolen away by some northern heathens,”

“Now, now uncle,” you said as you sat down at the table, stealing a glass of wine, “You can’t get rid of me that easy. You shall visit me,”

“Shall I?” he fakes pondered as he poured himself a fresh drink, “The north is too cold for me sweet niece,”

You hummed a laugh as you clinked your glasses, “I’m sure I will find you a warm enough room. After all I am your favourite,” you grinned making him laugh as you continued the festivities. You however had no idea the next time you saw your uncle it would be on such a sour note.

It was only the week after your wedding that Bran had fallen from the window however you knew he hadn’t fallen from the look on your mother’s face alone. As soon as the Queen had left you told Robb your suspicions, but they fell on deaf ears. You tried to ignore the growing pit in your stomach the day your father had left, Ned joining him in the south, but you just knew. You just knew.

The war came quick, and it came hard. The only reason Winterfell had so quickly rebuilt their supplies was at your instruction. Robbs men had suggested you stay behind to guard Winterfell, war was no place for a wife, but when you told Robb you wanted to come, he agreed with no hesitation. He’d seen the way you could shoot a bow and was even frightened when he saw how you swung a sword.

You had been trained by the hound after all amongst many other swords masters. Barristan Selmy had even given you a few tips. Your father had arranged the lessons, insisting no daughter of his would go down without a fight. Your mother had taught you other lessons. Poisons and daggers and knives disguised in rings. You knew how to survive. You knew how to fight.

Maybe you should have stayed behind. It was a thought that plagued your mind the moment you left and cursed you when you released what Theon had done. Robb assured you it was not your fault. Catelyn had said no one man could hold a castle by themselves. But what if you could have?

Walder Frey was your next big problem. He tried to convince Catelyn your marriage was just an inconvenience to a new alliance, but a Stark keeps their oath. Soon you had to break the bad news to Edmure Tully of his pending nuptials to a Frey girl.

Despite everything you had hope. Not once had you lost a battle. Not one. You charged in on horseback, Robb leading the front and you fighting with those at the back. Grey wind charged into battle first, but it did not take long for you to spot him on the battlefield. However, Robb had insisted on one thing.

Each time you joined him on battle you were dressed as a man with a helmet covering your face. He couldn’t risk Tywin knowing you were on the field. After all, if your siblings were bastards that made you the rightful queen of the seven, now six, kingdoms.

“I just have a bad feeling about this,” you told Robb as he helped lace you into your dress before Edmures wedding.

Robb sighed as he finished up the ties before turning you to face him, “You know I would never let anything happen to you,” he said, his fingers stroking over your cheek.

You kissed the palm of his hand, enjoying his touch for just a moment, “I know but I worry,”

“We can worry tomorrow,” Robb said, kissing your forehead as he held your face softly in his hands, “but for now we can take pause. Even a Frey would not defile guest rights,”

When grey wind refused to enter the Twins, you almost dragged Robb away right then and there. However, Cat and Robb insisted everything would be alright. You believed them. Well, you wanted to. You tried to believe them.

“My king has married, and I owe my new queen a wedding gift,” Walder began to say as you stood from your chair, a practised smile on your face as you moved to stand beside Robb. Before you could reach him, chairs scrapped against stone floors as Cateleyn slapped Roose Bolton.

“Robb,” she cried as Roose climbed from his chair. You tried to grab Robbs hand, to grab him and run, your hand already reaching for the dagger you had hidden. However, before you could grab its handle you felt a hand wrap about your wrist, yanking you back harshly.

Your fingers were just brushing Robbs hand when you were pulled back into the chest of Roose Bolton, his arm trapping you to his chest. Your nails sunk into his wrist, desperately trying to pull yourself out of his grip as Roose picked you up and began to drag you away to the side.

“Robb,” you cried out. You felt your heart racing, your eyes searching for where Robb was stood as arrows got set loose on the Stark men, your men. You tried to pry yourself free as your men were slaughtered by crossbows and daggers.

When the first arrow hit Robb you screamed, a guttural scream that pierced even your own ears as you felt your stomach lurch. You twisted in Rooses grip, turning your head to sink your teeth down onto his nose making him cry out in pain. he let you go out of instinct, and you quickly ran to where Robb lay as an arrow hit cat in the shoulder, knocking her to the ground.

“Run,” Robb said, his voice low almost a whisper as he tried to pull himself to his feet, “Don’t stop for me,” he said through gritted teeth, but your hand reached for his. “Go!” he almost yelled but you could see the pain in his eyes, “its too late for me,” he grunted, and your eyes fell to where he was looking.

You felt yourself grow sick at the sight of an arrow tip sticking out his stomach. It had gone through between his ribs, and you could see the thick blood dripping off its end onto the stone floor. “I can’t leave you,” you whispered as you stood, pulling him with you.

Your eyes scanned the room. There was no where to go. No bargain to offer no clear way to run. Your eyes fell to Catelyn who had crawled under a table nearby. You could see the fear in her eyes. Your own eyes turned to Robb who tried his best to stand. “Go,” he begged, “Don’t die for me,” he whispered, a tear rolling down his face as he pushed your hand away, but you clung on tighter, “I love you too much to see you die,”

“I love you too,” you tried to say but it came out as broken whimpers, “Theres no way for me to run,”

“Lord Walder!” Cats voice was the only thing to drag your eyes from your husband as you watched his mother hold a knife to a girl of no more than twelves throat, “Let it end, please. he is my son,” she begged.

You could see Robbs skin start to sweat, the colour draining from his face. You felt a tear fall down your cheek when you realised, he was dying. Robb had realised it too as his clammy hands moved to softly hold your cheeks as you kneeled together on the ground. Your hands reached for his face, stroking your thumb over his cheek.

“Take me for a hostage,” Catelyn cried, “Take her. she is the princess. Think of how much you could get!” she cried as Robb shuffled closer to you, his head moving to lean against yours. you ignored Catelyn’s pleas, ignored the way she tried to trade you for her son. You would have offered yourself too for Robb if not for the blood you could see at the corner of his mouth.

“Get up and walk out,” Catelyn begged Robb but he ignored her. you weren’t sure if he could even hear her. his face shuffled forwards, his lips softly brushing against yours. you tried to ignore the metallic taste as his blood tainted your final kiss. Tried to ignore Catelyn’s cries. Tried to ignore the feeling of Robbs skin growing cold beneath your fingertips.

You screamed when he was ripped from your arms. When your eyes looked up through the tears you saw Roose Bolton holding Robb, blood dripping still from where your teeth had sunk in. Robb looked to Cat, “Mother,” he mumbled making her let out a sob. His eyes turned to yours, looking down at your filled with regret, “Wife,” was the last word that left his lips before a gasp when Roose Boltons dagger sunk into his chest.

“The Lannister’s send their regards,” you heard him whisper and you lunged for him only to be pulled back by yet another one of the Frey men.

“Take her to the kennels for the night. Her mother wants to see her,” Walder Frey called out as one of his sons dragged you out the room.

You let your body go limp as you listened to Catelyn’s scream echo the once happy hall. You let yourself be dragged, acting as if you could not walk. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but you didn’t have to pretend to let them flow.

However as soon as you were the only ones in the corridor your fingers felt for the hilt of your dagger, your fingers wrapping around the black leather. Your eyes glanced up to the distracted Frey man. You glanced forward, making sure the corridor was empty before slamming your head back into his mouth making him cry out and drop you.

This time you were ready though as you spun around, your dagger sinking through the side of his throat. When you pulled it back, he collapsed to his knees, blood squirting out his neck as his body fell lifelessly to the ground. You didn’t have time to watch the light leave his eyes as it had Robbs.

Your hands reached for his belt, undoing it quickly before tightening it around your own waist. Next was his cloak. It was too long but would work for now you thought as you put up the hood before taking off down the corridor. Your hands squeezed the pouch on his belt as you ran, and you sighed of relief when you could feel coins through it. his sword was heavier than you’d like but you knew you could handle it. before anyone knew what had happened you were already at the forest edge on the back of a Frey horse.

The next couple of weeks were possibly the worst of your life. You wanted to mourn, to curl up in a ball and sob. You wanted to die. However, you couldn’t. you had to live. Robb wanted you to live. As you walked the forest you often felt your hand hover over your stomach.

Baby Robb you thought. Or Catelyn for a girl. Your bloods hadn’t arrived for little over three months. At first you thought it was the stress of war but as you stood on the forest edge, listening to the faint sounds of your men being slaughtered as you escaped you knew. You knew you were pregnant, and you wondered if Robb would’ve run if he had known.

If you had not come across the brother hood without banners you wondered if you would have survived much longer with such a large bounty on your head. Soon though your mission became less about surviving and more about getting revenge.

When you sunk an arrow into the chest of the first Frey you came upon you remembered your anger and soon it almost became like a sport. It wasn’t hard to find a Frey to kill and they rarely put up a fight. It was the Lannister’s that were harder. Though many knew you and thought they could convince you to return to your family’s side.

You made sure to stab they ones twice. You never stabbed to kill, however. You enjoyed watching them crawl away, desperate to find help, but knowing they’d bleed out before finding any. But revenge is not a survival tool you soon learned.

You had been washing your face down at the stream near where you and the brotherhood had chosen to set up camp. It was almost peaceful here. The birds were chirping, deer walked around with no care in the world. Feeling the sweat wash off your face as your splashed yourself with the cool water was the best feeling you had had since the wedding.

For a moment, a single moment, you tried to forget it all. You let yourself enjoy the stream, your fingers hovering in the water, enjoying how the water flowed around them. You looked up across the stream, smiling at the stag that stood across the water from you. Dad. The idea pained your chest. Everything was so much simpler before.

When the stag began to kick you squinted, moving to stand to help the creature when you felt a hand grab a chunk of your hair. You tried to scream, to reach for his hand, but the ice-cold water entering your mouth made it hard to even move. You tried to thrash but you did little but make the water splash. You could hear muffle voices from atop the water but with no clue who they belonged to.

Your eyes stung as you tried to look up. You managed to turn your head just enough to see the stag out the corner of your eye. You wondered if the wolf that had pawed its way up to stand by the stag was real. It almost looked as if it was smiling down at you. your hands slipped away from your attacker’s grip as your body grew stiller. Your eyes stayed on the stag and wolf. When you need me, you’ll have me. Your fathers’ words echoed in the water. I love you too much you could hear Robbs voice whisper before everything faded to black.

“Where is she?” Cerci demanded as her apparent cousins she’d never heard of stood before her throne. “You said you had my daughter,”

“Yes, my queen,” the man bowed before turning to signal for a crate to be brought forward, “We have her right here,”

“Are there air holes in that box?” Tyrion asked, walking down the stairs from the throne to the crate the mountain had sat down with less than grace.

“Why would we need airholes my lord?” the man’s words even made cerci stand from her throne as Tyrion began to pry the crate open with his dagger, “Your grace we were told she had committed treason. She murdered my father your grace, your cousin. She was dangerous I’m telling you my grace you have to believe me,” the man pleaded but it fell on deaf ears as Cersei approached the crate.

Tyrion slowly pried it open, his eyes peeking inside before gasping, slamming its lid shut as he backed away, “What is it brother?”

“Don’t look in there” Tyrion begged as cerci approached the crate, “Don’t look in there! Any of you,” he screeched.

Cercis eyes were cold as stone as she looked from the crate to the mountain then to her cousin. The mans eyes widened in terror as the mountain carried him out wordlessly, “Please your grace. I thought this is what you wanted,” he screamed.

“Get out,” Cersi muttered, “All of you out!” she screamed making everyone, but Tyrion flee out the room. Her eyes were locked on the crate, “Is she-?” she tried to ask as Tyrion stood from where he had keeled over on the floor.

His feet scraped the ground as he walked over to stand by his sister, “She’s dead,” he said, his voice cold but tears streaked down his cheeks, “They killed her,” Cersei’s hand reached to open to crate, but Tyrion shuddered as he turned around, “Do not make me look at her,” he begged.

“I have to know,” she murmured as she took the lid off the crate, her eyes wound shut till she heard the lid clatter to the ground. Cerci opened her eyes, expecting to see her daughter asleep in a box but she gasped when she saw the reality. “No,” she gasped, her hand clutching her heart as she stepped towards the crate.

“Look what you’ve done,” Tyrion said through gritted teeth, “Look at the girl you had killed!”

“I never- I didn’t mean- I didn’t want her to die,” cerci said as she reached out to stroke her daughter’s hair but when Tyrion saw out the corner of his eye, he slapped her hand away. “I- “

“You do not touch her!” he screeched, “She is dead because of you! all of this is because of you,” he yelled at his sister before noticing a new horror reach her eyes. Tyrion choked back his tears, trying to hold his stomach steady as he peered back into the box, “Oh my gods,” he whispered as he backed away from the box.

“I didn’t know,” Cersi whispered, her eyes unable to move.

“You killed your own grandchild,” Tyrion whispered, venom dripping off his tongue as he backed away from his sister, “Your own daughter! Your flesh and your blood!” he began to yell once more.

“I didn’t mean to- “Cersei tried to beg, tears falling from her eyes as she backed away from the crate.

“That doesn’t matter,” Tyrion said coldly as he glared up at his older sister, “She is dead because of you. and I hope that haunts you till your last breath,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @nyotamalfoy

#robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark imagine #robb stark angst #robb stark x you #robb stark x y/n #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones angst #baratheon daughter #robert baratheron x daughter reader #got #got x reader #got imagine #got angst #asoiaf #asoiaf x reader

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angelofthenight · 5 months

Text

Kenchanted Pt.1

(Ken x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Lost in the chaotic and gritty human world, you come to Ken’s rescue. He’s determined to find his one true love who is also lost in the human world, Barbie, and despite your cynical and pessimistic view of “true love”, you help. You and Ken’s views of life and love are constantly clashing and arguments constantly follow. Yet the more time you spend together, you both begin to fall in love with the epitome of everything you once disagreed with. But you are both promised to others and you are from two different worlds, pink and grey.

Warnings: Swearing, V brief harassment (nothing intense), YN thinks Ken is mentally ill/disturbed, Mentions of police

( Super special thanks for my pookie mutual @detectiveapparatiagreen for proofreading for triggers💖 )

Word Count: 3.5k

Tropes Used: Grumpy x Sunshine, She fell first/He fell harder, Slow burn, Unexpected/Unintentional pining, Fantasy vs Reality

( This is based off the Disney movie Enchanted so it’s kinda like an AU, with a touch of Warm Bodies and Aquamarine. Also I named YN’s boyfriend after Oppenheimer in honor of Barbenheimer but I just realized that a Robert is in Enchanted too😭. Also this is steering off a bit from canon in the Barbie movie to cater more to Enchanted’s storyline so Ken doesn’t become a typical man/antagonist.

And lastly YN is basically Ken’s opposite personality-wise and clothing color palette-wise, I typically always have all my YN’s fashion style ambiguous in my stories unless it’s a direct effect to the story so that’s why I’m just forewarning )

Table of Contents

(R/n) = Roommates name

“God, learn to have a little fun, bitch!”

You flipped out your middle finger over your shoulder as you walked away without looking back at the man near the bar. Despite your platant rejections and constant explanations that you were about to leave the club, the man that approached you with sexual intentions still ran his mouth on how you should let him buy you a drink. You endlessly declined and when he began to grow impatient and rude that’s when you told him off and marched off to find your roommate, (R/n), in the crowd who had gone to retrieve your coats.

The music thrusted into your eardrums and rumbled your brain so intensely you wondered if you’d be able to get away with calling off work the next morning. You leaned against a wall to take off your heels, leaving your feet in just your pantyhose as (R/n) reunited with you holding both hers and your own jacket in her arms. She laid your jacket over your shoulders and you instantly huddled it around your short dress to prepare to step into the breezy, rainy night.

“Of course the night we finally have the energy to go clubbing is the night we have work in the early morning.” (R/n) chuckled into your ear as the two of you left through the doors in giggles. Once out into the storming outdoors, (R/n) and you stood by a wall under some shade as she began to order an uber through her phone to get you guys back home. You yawned as you people watched while you waited for her to order, letting your eyes wander and linger on the LA characters that either rushed past you with jackets over their head or walking with umbrellas.

Some you could assume were clubbing like you, some ran to catch cabs, some looked to be just getting out of work. Each person that crossed your line of vision were all different and unique… but there was one specific individual that made you do a double-take: the bleach blond man wearing rollerblades and blindingly bright neon that stood out in the dark night.

He was sitting on the curb of the sidewalk getting drenched by the rain with his head in his hands, seemingly sobbing dramatically. You frowned in concern and curiosity. You faintly nudged your friend. “Is that guy okay?” Your friend looked up at you with confusion until she looked over to where your eyes were locked. She wasn’t as worried as you and simply brushed him off. “Huh? Oh… Just leave him to it.”

That offered no apathy to cease your attention on the bold man. You just couldn’t brush him off no matter how hard you tried, it was like you were feeling this magnetic pull towards him. “I’m just gonna go check on him.” You told your friend as you stepped into the thundering storm with your hand acting as a shield above your eyes to prevent rain hitting them, and began walking towards the perfectly tanned stranger.

You stopped once you were right next to him, the cold droplets of water quickly dampening your styled hair. “Hey. Are you alright?” You said, loud enough for him to hear you over the rain.

The bleach blond thrashed his face out of his hands to look up at you with tears endlessly flooding out of his blue eyes and his lips trembling. “No! I am not alright!” He loudly wailed out. “Barbie got arrested! And they wouldn’t take me with her! I tried to follow them but then I got lost in this humongous place! But while I was wandering I discovered that men on horses rule this world and at first that seemed so awesome but I still couldn’t even do anything because I need a bunch of papers to do stuff! And even though I am a man, people are still not being very nice to me!”

He already lost you a while ago with his fast yet confusing words which prompted you to stare blankly, but his last complaint resonated with you enough to erupt a chuckle from you. “Yeah, well, welcome to LA.”

The man halted his dramatic crying to stare at you with his watering eyes lighting up. “Thank you.” He breathed out with a sniffle and a grateful tone of voice. Your smile twitched down and your brows furrowed at him.

“And I lost my visor cap! And now I am leaking from my eyes!” He suddenly exclaimed as he touched his wet cheeks. “But the worst part of it all is…” he reached up to grip onto his soaking wet blond locks, “my hair is WET! Why is the sky sprinkling water and making my hair flat and squishy?!” He yelled and physically jumped and yelped like a child when lightning cracked in the sky.

You didn’t mean to just stare blankly stare at him with your mouth slightly open and your eyebrows slightly furrowed, but you just didn’t know how to react to how this man, who you were now assuming wasn’t right in the head, was acting. “You mean the rain?” You finally asked with multiple confused blinks.

The man harshly sniffled again. “Well, I HATE the rain!” He yelled while glaring up at the sky like he now had a vengeful grudge against it.

You kneeled down next to him to be at eye-level. “Do you have your phone with you? Or any money?” The man wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I’ve never owned a phone.” He looked back over to you, the rain dripping down his face washing his tears away. “And what would I need money for?”

You blinked, dumbfounded in its rawest form. You just stared at him again with a complete loss for words at his question. You looked him up and down, taking in every neon detail on his skater outfit. You probably looked like you were seeing an alien for the first time. “…Do you need me to call somebody for you?”

He vaguely chuckled with a small smile as he looked at you like you were the weird one. “I don't think they'd hear you from here.” Again, your jaw went slack at your loss for words; intense confusion baffling you. “What?”

You glanced around, trying to find some sort of camera crew. Your eyes returned to the blond man who cradled his knees to his chest and reached up to touch his wet hair. He was pouting and wearing the saddest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen on a grown man. You needed to help this poor, troubled guy.

“What’s your name?” He took his hand out of his hair and released his knees, letting his legs fall straight as he looked at his neon strain roller blades. “Ken.” “No, like, what’s your full name?” You added. He tore his eyes off his feet to look back at you. “Kenneth or And Ken.”

You forced an awkward laugh and smile as you tried to hide how you were beginning to lose your patience. “No, what’s your last name?” Ken gave you another weird look. “How many names do you people have?”

Your frown began to deepen as your annoyance began to grow visible in your features. “…So it’s just Ken?” You asked, a slight snap to your voice. “Well it’s usually Barbie and Ken.” Ken explained with a pep to his own voice. Your brows crinkled, “You keep mentioning Barbie. Like the doll? Are you named after Barbie’s boyfriend Ken or something?”

Ken shook his head with a toothy smile. “No, I am Ken.”

‘This guy must have escaped from the ward.’ You mentally noted. “Where exactly are you from, Ken?” You asked, hoping to get a solid enough answer to help you navigate where he needs to get to.

“Barbieland.” Ken answered without hesitation, leaving you once again baffled. A loud thunderclap snapped you back into your senses as the rain began to pick up. You looked over your shoulder at (R/n) who pointed at her phone, trying to tell you the uber was about to pull up. You looked back to Ken who returned to sadly staring at his rollerblades and clutching his sopping wet hair.

You pursed your lips together, deep in debating thought, until you let out a groaning sigh. You rose to your feet and draped your jacket over Ken’s head and shoulders. He looked up at you with surprise and opened his mouth to say something but you strictly cut him off. “Stay right here, I’ll be right back.” You instructed him before rushing over to your dry friend.

“Okay, so Boris will be picking us up in a gray Toyota and I’ll just request what you owe me on Paypal-” “I think we should take him with us.” You cut (R/n) off as she watched the tracking map on Uber, her eyes snapping up towards you. She glanced over at Ken getting pretty comfortable in your jacket on the sidewalk curb before looking back at you with an eyebrow raise.

“(Y/n), what?” Now she was the baffled one looking at an alien over how out-of-character your request was. However, a smirk stretched across her lips. “Usually I’m the one wanting to bring home strange men at night.” You rolled your eyes and gave her a glare. “It’s not like that.” You glimpsed over your shoulder at Ken.

“That guy is the farthest thing from my type as you can get.”

You turned back to (R/n). “And you know I would never do that to Rob.”

(R/n) visibly cringed and shut her eyes, holding her hand up to stop you. “Ew, I’ve told you before I don’t like to hear that guys name on girls night.” You slapped her hand out of your face. “We’re not gonna have this argument again right now.” You grumbled, knowing how passionate (R/n) was about verbalizing her distaste for your boyfriend Rob. She shook her head. “We’re not because you didn’t say his name.”

You sighed, dismissing that whole rift in the conversation. “I just can’t leave him like this. He’s lost and confused and will get sick in this rain.” You explained to your roommate who didn’t seem to even mind. “As long as I don’t have to give up my room or share my morning waffles and we lock our bedrooms. And if he ends up being a thief or murderer or rap-” You cut her off.

“He’s not staying the night. I just wanna get him out of the rain and send him back to whatever mental institution he came from. He is not staying the night.” You stated with a stern expression. He’d be out of your apartment quicker than he got there. It’s not that you didn’t have room for a guest, other than prioritizing you and your friends safety, you just didn’t want to take care of this crazy man any more than you had to.

After (R/n) told you you’d be taking the heavier load on the overall cost, you hurried back over to Ken who was still wrapped up comfortably in your jacket. You planted your hand softly on his shoulder, grabbing his attention rather quickly. “Come on, Ken. You can get dry at my place and we’ll try and get you home.”

Ken’s face lit up like a Christmas tree and tried to stumble up to his feet due to his rollerblades before you grabbed his muscular arm to help him up safely. You pushed away the observation of how tall he actually was when he stood up to focus more on wheeling him over to the Uber (R/n) was waving you over to.

Ken skated circles around you and (R/n) as you walked down the hallway of your apartment building as he talked your ear off. “-and then we had to ride a snowmobile through the snow, which was very cold and not good for my hair. And then that’s when we rollerbladed into Venice Beach. Barbie did not like your world by the way, like within the first second we got there her mood instantly bummed out. And then-”

As soon as you got him seated in the car, he instantly began telling you how he got to that sidewalk curb that somehow involved his whole life story. You tuned him out about halfway through, you just couldn’t comprehend what he was telling you; Barbieland, Barbie, disco parties, Kens, Barbies, beaching, Mattel, a portal, Barbie’s flat feet, horses.

It was crazy to you. His story, his words, his personality, his clothes, quite literally everything about him. You nearly began to regret picking up just another LA nutjob on the street.

“-and now I’m here with you tired looking ladies in this kinda ugly, gloomy building. They should paint these walls a brighter color. Like pink! Or blue!” Ken joyfully said with his wide smile never faltering as he continued to skate down the halls. His upbeat energy was beginning to sicken you.

He started to skate backwards to continue talking into your annoyed face. “But don’t worry, I'm positive that Barbie is already out of jail and looking for me. No doubt by morning she'll come and pick me up and we’ll go home and the two of us will finally kiss under the stars.”

A snigger finally cracked out of you. “Right.” From the snippets of his story you paid attention to, it didn’t sound like this Barbie girl he kept talking about was all that interested in him. You wanted to press on about that but knew you’d just be met with blind stupidity.

(R/n) seemed to be having the opposite reactions and opinions from you as all she did was humor his story and laugh at his jokes. What was entertaining for her was agitating for you. “Well all I can do for you is let you in for a minute so you can dry off.” You asserted as you neared your apartment door.

“Thank you!” Ken chirped out, still clinging to your jacket that was still wrapped around him. “So if she’s (R/n), what’s your name? You never gave me it.” You told him your name and he repeated it out loud, testing it in different voice tones which annoyed you even more. ‘I just need to last another hour or two and then he’s out of my life and out of my sight’ you kept telling yourself to keep your composure.

You finally reached your front door and began to fish out your keys from your purse. You rustled through your stuff and held back your exhausted groan, digging through to find them. Ken’s vibrant neon color palette still blinded your peripheral vision. You fleetingly glanced over to him, “What is it with this outfit of yours anyways?”

Ken looked down at his clothes with a confident smile and placed his hands on his hips. “You like it?” Your brows furrowed together. “No, it's just… I thought you said you didn’t have any money.” “I don’t. Clothes just come to me.” Ken said simply as you finally found your keys.

“Like people give you clothes or you design them?” (R/n) questioned. “No, clothes literally just come to me.” Ken stated with that bright grin still intact with his lips.

You stared at him with that ‘are you serious’ expression. “Why don't we see about getting you a car.” You quickly said before you unlocked your front door.

(R/n) approached you in a fit of giggles while you sat at your dining room table scanning over a map for places to drop Ken off. She grasped onto your tense shoulders as she tried to regain a steady breath after her stomach-hurting laughter from something Ken had previously told her.

“C’mon, (Y/n). Can’t he sleep here tonight?” She asked you with a pleading smile. You didn’t spare her a glance and shook your head like a strict mother, your eyes still remaining on the map. “No way.”

(R/n) sighed in disappointment and was about to go back over to the couch where Ken was sitting all wrapped up in towels until she caught the sight of him leaning all the way back into the couch. His eyes blissfully closed and his mouth open enough for a vague snore.

“Um, (Y/n). He looks really tired.” She whispered down to you. Your eyes shot up to see the couch from where you were sitting to witness Ken already fast asleep. “What? Oh, no. That's not acceptable.” You stood up, the intention of physically hurling him off your couch flaring your imagination.

“Are you really gonna make him go?” (R/n) asked sadly with a pout. You turned to her with a glare. Of course you had to be the only sensible one, taking on responsibility. Sometimes you felt like the only adult in a world full of children, the only one with a stable head on their shoulders. “Just go to bed. I’ll handle this.” You asserted.

(R/n) delicately grabbed your arm before you could march over to him. “He’s so funny though, and he seems pretty harmless.” You sighed and turned to her with a softer tone in your expression and eyes. “(R/n), he is a seriously confused and troubled man who's fallen into our laps. All I want to do is get him home.” You explained as plainly as you could.

“So he’s not gonna stay?” (R/n) asked again but put on a brighter smile to try to convince you. “No.” You harshly deadpanned. “Now go to bed.” She huffed but turned on her heels anyway in pursuit of her room.

Once you heard the closing of her door, you made your way over to the snoozing psychopath. With your hands on your hips, you glared down at him as if trying to telepathically make him wake up. You reached down to his arm, about to violently shake him awake, but your fingers halted and hovered over his toned bicep.

You glanced up to his face as you were frozen, mindlessly taking the time to get a proper look at his face for the first time. You nearly couldn’t mentally deny that when he wasn’t rabidly sobbing or babbling his mouth off, he was actually very beautiful. The most beautiful guy you’ve ever actually seen, almost like he was fake. He was too physically perfect.

You snapped yourself out of your admiring daze, almost not believing you got distracted with physical attraction. You deepened your frown and finally pushed your hand against his arm, a weak attempt to wake Mr Sleeping Beauty. You pushed one more time to find he was still fast asleep. You gruffly sighed and pulled out your phone, clicking into the Uber app.

You were just going to send him to the nearest police station, he’ll be the cops’ problem now and Ken can tell them all about his Barbie life. However, before you could hit the final button to get the car your eyes glanced up to Ken once more. Except this time you couldn’t look away as he subconsciously snuggled in the towels wrapped around him.

‘Just push the damn button and get him out of here’ is what you kept yelling at yourself. So why couldn’t you do it? Of course right when it came down to it, you felt yourself going soft for this lunatic… with very blue eyes and an innocent kind of sweet smile. Despite his prettiness and despite his aggravating immaturity, you still felt this gravitational pull towards this strange man.

You sighed and turned off your phone, ruthlessly cursing yourself at your failure to get rid of him. You just couldn’t bring yourself to kick him out, something you knew you were going to regret when he woke up and began talking non-stop again. Still, you found yourself gently laying him properly down across the couch on the pillow and replacing the damp towels with a blanket.

You denied your own small smile at his sleeping form as you left for your bedroom. You hadn’t thought about Barbie dolls in a very long time, but all of his Barbie talk made you sit in your bed in silence for a few minutes. You wished you still had your Barbie dolls with you instead of them sitting in a box in your parents basement. You just wanted to at least look at your favorite childhood toy.

Not your Ken doll though.

You buried him three feet underground in your backyard when playing funeral with your Barbie dolls and forgot he was still down there.

#reader insert #ken x reader #ken #Ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #Barbie #Barbie 2023 #the Barbie movie #Barbie movie #greta gerwig #greta gerwig barbie #enchanted #ken Carson #Ken Carson x reader #kenergy #I’m just Ken #enchanted movie #fluff #disney enchanted

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thatdammchickennugget · 5 months

Text

Puppy Love

pairing - robert 'bob' floyd x fem!reader

summary - bob finds a puppy on the side of the street and brings it to your shelter, having trouble getting you off his mind after

warnings - fluff, teasing

wordcount - 2.1k

Bob was relieved when he pulled into the shelter’s parking lot and saw the lights still on. The small puppy on his passenger seat whined when the car stopped moving, staring up at him with big round eyes.

He got out and walked around the car, carefully picking up the grey bundle of fur. The door was closed but he was sure someone was still inside as there was another car still parked in the lot. He knocked on the glass gently, then a little harder the second time.

After the second knock, a head peeked around the doorway behind the reception desk. Spotting him drenched in the rain, the woman quickly stepped around the counter and went to unlock the door. She pulled it open just a smidge. “I’m sorry, we’re already closed for today.”

“Oh, I was hoping you could help me really quick,” Bob told her, an apologetic look on his face, mentioning to the puppy he was holding. “But I can come back in the morning. What time do you open?”

The woman looked down at the shaking dog, seemingly thinking for a moment. Then she pulled the door open all the way. “Come on in. You both look drenched to the bone.”

She walked ahead, back to the room she had come from, and Bob followed behind her. She mentioned towards the metal table in the centre of the room and opened up one of the cabinets, pulling out some towels.

“Where did you find this little guy?” she asked and handed Bob one of the towels, before holding out her hand for the puppy to sniff. Seeing that he was not reacting aggressively, she carefully started rubbing over his fur with a towel, trying to warm him up.

“He was lying on the side of the road. Wasn’t moving at all when I found him,” Bob explained, watching as she checked the puppy over for any injuries.

“Thank you for bringing him here. Looks like he has been out there by himself for a while,” the woman smiled at him, happy to find that except for being insanely thin and cold, the pup seemed to be fine. “He doesn’t have a collar. We’ll have to check if he’s chipped, but I doubt it.”

Bob watched in awe how the dog settled down as you fussed over him, stopping his whining. He was now lying down on the towel you had used, eyes closing as you ran a finger over his forehead. He felt his face heat up when you smiled up at him again.

“Thanks again,” you told him. “Lots of people would have just left him there.”

You noticed him nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Of course, I couldn’t just leave him in the rain.”

“Well, I’m going to get him cleaned up and sort out a place for him to stay for the night. I promise he’s in good hands here,” you said with a grin, aware that the man looked slightly hesitant to leave the puppy’s side. “You should probably head home and get out of these wet clothes before you catch a cold.”

“Sure, yeah,” Bob stammered out, cursing himself for how nervous he was. He was glad Nat wasn’t here to see him make a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl. The whole dagger crew would have heard about it by tomorrow.

You waited until you heard the front door shut before looking down at your new friend. “He was kind of cute, wasn’t he?”

The puppy just licked your hand in response.

⌞☆⌟ ⌞☆⌟ ⌞☆⌟

Maybe he should not have come back. Did people usually come in to check on the dogs they dropped off here? He was not sure.

This time you were standing behind the reception desk when he entered the building, a grin making its way onto your face when you recognized him. You had been kicking yourself for not asking for his name the night before, not thinking you would see him again. And social media stalking without knowing the person’s name turned out to be quite difficult.

“Found another dog?” she joked as he walked up to her.

“No, not this time,” Bob chuckled and watched her mark her place in her book and put it to the side. “I don’t know if this is weird, but I wanted to check in on him?”

His question made you smile again, the sight bringing colour into his cheeks. “Not weird at all. Would you like to see him?”

You told him to follow you when he nodded, leading him through the long hallway of kennels and out into the yard behind the building. Bob walked behind you, passing multiple fenced in areas with dogs relaxing in the sun and playing.

“We got him checked at the vet this morning and other than being underweight he is perfectly healthy, thank god,” you started talking, stopping in front of one of the gates. “No chip, though. That means this little guy is up for adoption. Are you interested?”

“Oh, no.” Bob watched as the puppy ran after one of the other dogs, looking much better already than the night before. “I don’t think I’d have enough time to look after a dog well enough.”

“That’s unfortunate. I bet you’d be a great dog owner. And I think he would agree.”

Bob’s eyes drifted to you, now watching you instead of the dogs. There was a proud look on your face as you looked around at your fosterlings. He liked the way the skin around your eyes crinkled when you smiled.

“Do you work here alone?” he asked you, realising he has not seen anyone else around here.

“Most of the time it’s just me. My sister tries to help out when she can. And sometimes a couple of students come to play with the dogs and take them on walks. But it’s been hard to find volunteers,” you admitted, and Bob frowned when the smile fell off your face.

“So, this is your place?” he tried to steer the conversation into a different direction.

“Yeah, opened it up just a couple months ago.” He internally cheered when you went back to smiling at him. “Have been working up to it for years, though. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before things turn around. Pretty sure people are going to storm the place to make one of these sweet little guys part of their families.”

“Definitely,” he agreed with you. “So, how do you go about volunteering here?”

You turned to fully face him, studying his face to figure out if he was being serious. “Are you thinking about it?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, hand going to rub at his neck as he pushed his glasses back up onto his nose. The two of you made your way back into the building and you went back to your spot behind the desk.

“Well, if you want to try it out and if you’re not busy you should come by on Saturday,” you beamed at him. “I’m hosting an open house. The whole day is going to be about the pups, it’s going to be fun! And I’m bringing snacks!”

“Well if there’s going to be snacks, I’ll have to check it out,” he joked and suddenly felt way too warm at the sound of your sweet laugh.

“Then it’s a date,” you chuckled, sliding over one of the flyers you had made.

⌞☆⌟ ⌞☆⌟ ⌞☆⌟

Bob had already been waiting for almost half an hour by the time the other’s pulled into the parking lot on Saturday. Jake was the first one to arrive, Bradley’s bronco right behind him. The look on Nat’s face when she climbed out of the passenger side made Bob question why he had invited them in the first place.

They had already agreed to tag along when he told them they would be spending the day playing with puppies, but all of them perked up even more at the mention of you. But he had wanted to make sure you saw some new faces at the shelter today. He even went to pick up his niece before coming here, giving his sister and brother-in-law a well-deserved day off.

“Finally. Took you long enough,” Bob complained as Jake sidled up to him.

“Missing your lady that bad?” Jake pushed his sunglasses on his nose, shooting a mischievous grin in Bob’s direction.

His niece pulled at his sleeve to get his attention. “I want to go see the puppies now!”

“Let’s go then,” Natasha smiled at the girl, taking her hand. “Lead the way, Bob.”

The others followed him across the lot and into the building. The reception area was empty today. A sign on the counter pointed them towards the kennels, so Bob led them through the long hallway and out into the yard.

Laughter and squealing was to be heard from one of the fenced in areas outside, a few kids running around and throwing toys for the dogs to chase while their parents watched with differing expressions.

A couple was watching with fond smiles as you talked to them excitedly. Another was mumbling to each other, looking slightly concerned as their son kept on raving about why they had to adopt the golden retriever puppy he was hugging.

Clara let go of Natasha’s hand to run up to the fence, bouncing on her feet. “Which one is yours Uncle Bob?”

He crouched down next to her, looking around the area before pointing out the fluffy grey puppy he had found. “That one right there.”

“Can we go pet him please?”

“Sure, come on,” he said and opened up the gate to let everyone through. The dog in question noticed his arrival right away, sprinting up to him to jump up his legs. Clara let out a laugh when he jumped over to her, licking at her hands.

“Looks like he remembers you,” your voice suddenly called out to him. You were making your way over to him, a beaming smile on your face. Your smile got even wider when you saw he did not come alone. “Who are your friends?”

Jake immediately stepped forward, offering you his hand with a charming smile. “I’m Jake, pleasure to meet you.”

He then grinned back at Bob. “You didn’t tell us just how pretty she is, Bobby.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at the man before introducing herself to you. The two of you quickly hit it off, laughing as you watched the group of men fawn about the little puppies alongside the children.

As you and Natasha continued chatting, Jake couldn't resist teasing Bob about his obvious attraction to you. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Jake leaned in closer to you, playfully teasing, "You know, Bob here has been smitten with you. Hasn't been able to shut up about you. Look, it's written all over his face."

Bob immediately denied it, his cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson. "Jake, come on. I barely know her," he muttered to his supposed friend, sending you an apologetic look. "I'm sorry about him. He thinks he's being funny."

Feigning innocence, Jake grinned and decided to seize the opportunity to rile Bob up a little more. He turned his attention back to you, his charming smile widening. "Well, if Bob's not making a move, I guess I can shoot my shot."

You looked at him with a mixture of surprise and amusement, unsure of how to respond to his sudden change in demeanour. Before you could say anything, Jake winked at you. "What do you say, sweetheart? How does dinner next Friday sound?"

Caught off guard, you hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Bob, who was watching the interaction with a mix of surprise and slight disappointment. You noticed the way the spectacled man's jaw set, his eyes watching you intensely, waiting for your response.

Finally, you smiled and decided that if Bob was too shy to ask you out, you'd use Jake's flirting to your advantage, feeling a sense of excitement bubbling within you. "Sure, I'd love to go to dinner."

Both Jake and Bob's eyes widened, neither of them expecting you to actually agree. Your gaze left Jake to find Bob's eyes, smiling up at him. "But I'd rather go with Bob. Is next Friday good for you? We could go catch a movie after?"

His mouth quivered upwards at the corners in an amused smirk. His heart skipped a beat when you looked up at him with expectant eyes. "Y-yes. Friday is perfect," he nodded eagerly, and you gave him another warm smile, not missing the smut smile on Jake's face.

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#bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x you #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #top gun #tog gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #mari writes

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i-padfootblack-things · 3 months

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My Heart is Yours [Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal x reader]

Author's Note: Rosie Rosenthal has my whole heart, and I couldn't find any fics for him, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. This is based on the portrayal of actors in the Masters of the Air series on AppleTV+. I respect the referenced real life stories and people wholeheartedly. This is not meant to offend anyone.

Warnings: Reader is a nurse, Historical Inaccuracies, Injuries.

Hope you enjoy this little fic! My requests are open, so if you have any ideas, don't be shy!

Pilots are known to be cocky- I mean, I get it. They're pretty badass, if I can say so myself. But I have never in my life met such a down to earth pilot. Major Robert Rosenthal was, without exaggeration, perfect.

I was standing by the window, counting the planes that were appearing from the grey clouds, landing from their mission, silently praying Rosie was among them.

I exhaled in relief-- only one plane down from the fifteen that left. My heart was in my throat as I waited for the ambulances to bring in the injured men.

As if on cue, the doors flew open and several men on stretchers were placed on beds, in order of emergency. I went to the man in the worst shape, ensuring his airways were clear and then going over the burns that littered his whole body. It looked bad, and my heart ached for him-- he would never look the same as he did before.

"I can take over, you're needed elsewhere." I nodded as I gave another nurse my forceps. He was stable and I had to move on.

"Have you seen Rosi- Major Rosenthal?" She shook her head, a sad smile casting a shadow on her lips.

"He's not on the list." She said, referring to the list of injured men that had been brought in. I close my eyes, trying to calm myself. It didn't mean he was dead, although that's what it usually meant.

After going over every pilot and ensuring they got the right treatments, I allowed myself a break-- I needed some fresh air. I had no clue if Rosie's plane made it back, none of the pilots that flew with him had come in, and that is rare occurrence.

As I exited the building, leaving behind the pained screams of injured men, I made my way towards the bench Rosie and I always met at, still holding onto a sliver of hope that he was alright and he was going to come back to me. I was walking slower than usual, given how tired I was, taking the time to rub the back of my neck as a way of relieving the tension.

A deep voice called my name, making me freeze-- I could recognize it anytime. I raised my eyes to his face, and my knees couldn't take it anymore.

"Rosie," I whispered, as I fell to the ground. He was there in a second, grabbing me by my forearms and holding me to his chest. I could feel his heartbeat against my own.

"Woah, woah... Are you alright?" I nodded, my eyes going over every inch of his face, making sure he was okay.

"I just--" I couldn't keep calm, my tears spilled out as a sob escaped. "I thought you were gone, I didn't know if your plane made it back..."

"I promised you I'll always come back to you, didn't I?" He had the nerve to smile, as he raised his hands to my cheeks, wiping my tears away. I was still silent, trying to catch my breath. I was still so focused on his perfect face, and how he had not even a cut anywhere, but what brought me back to the moment was the feeling of his finger caressing the spot between my eyebrows.

"Why are you frowning, my love?"

"You're fine." I said it quietly, as if I couldn't believe it, but he was in front of me, fine as if he didn't just drop some bombs over Berlin. "You're fine. You're fine!" I laughed, realizing he was actually standing in front of me. Perfectly fine!

I raised my hands to his face, caressing his jaw, then his cheeks, his nose, and then forehead. I brushed them through his hair, wrapping them around his neck. He was watching me with his beautiful smile lighting his whole face ul.

"I'm fine, my love. See?" He gestured towards his body in a 'ta-da' motion, making me laugh.

He then closed the small distance between us, kissing me on the corner of my mouth.

"I will always, always come back to you, my love. My heart is yours." He whispered, before kissing me deeply.

"And mine is yours, Rosie."

#rosie rosenthal #robert rosie rosenthal #masters of the air #appletv+#rosie rosenthal x reader #robert rosenthal x reader #robert rosie rosenthal x reader #hbo war

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lenafromthenordiccoven · 4 months

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Yes, ma'am | Bob Floyd x f!pilot!reader

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x f!Pilot!reader

Requested? no (unless you count my own brain pestering me with this)

Rating: M – MDNI 18+

Word count: 4370

Warnings: Pilot!reader, switch!Bob, switch!reader, light fingering, oral (f!receiving) unprotected PinV (be smart and wrap it, folks), breeding kink, Bob Floyd fucks, Navy and Air Force inaccuracies are probably gonna pop up here and there, super self-indulgent

Summary: After six years of training, you’re finally graduating from flight school as one of the first female Eurofighter Typhoon drivers in the Austrian Air Force. Your boyfriend of six and a half years, Bob, has supported you every step of the way. And now? Now it’s time to celebrate his newly graduated, freshly made Lieutenant, girlfriend.

Read on ao3

A/N: Listen, this is gonna be SUPER self-indulgent, ‘kay? Thanks to TGM, the Austrian airshow “Airpower” in 2022 and the internships I’ve done with the AAF, I’mma try to enter flight school for the Eurofighter Typhoons once I’m done with my MA. This translator wants to flyyy, baby! 😂 So, this is my brain keeping me motivated to train for the entry exam by giving me ideas of what it could be like to actually do it and graduate. Also, I’m a slut for Bob Floyd. What else is new? 😂 This is basically an extension of @attapullmans International Bob Floyd Fucks month. I wanted to have this up by the end of January but didn’t have time. (Song to listen to for this would be Tell Me The Truth by Two Feet.)

Six years. You’d been waiting for this moment for six years. Had worked hard for it. And now, as officers, family and other invitees were applauding and two of the Typhoons soared overhead, you were officially being dismissed as a Second Lieutenant for the first time. The first female Typhoon driver in the Austrian Air Force. And yet, it didn’t feel real. Not the way your classmates, other pilots with the rotary wing or other fixed-wing aircraft, clapped you on the back as they cheered. And certainly not the way your boyfriend of almost seven years, who’d been there for you every step of the way since you’d told him you wanted to try out for the Air Force when you’d first started dating, was grinning at you. No, he was positively beaming.

The fact that your parents hadn’t been able to make it to your graduation might’ve dampened your mood, if Bob wasn’t looking at you with so much love and pride, it made your own chest swell. You’d done it. Despite what everyone else and your own mind had told you from time to time, you’d made it. And, to be honest, you’d been terrified of Selection Day. Scared that even after already three years of consistently being top of the class and adamant about wanting to fly the Typhoon, your superior officers would tell you, they’d assign you to the helicopters or air transport.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, blood roaring in your ears as you pushed through the crowd and finally reached Bob. You were trembling by now, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, the world coming back into focus. And with it, the thought that you had to get Bob out of here as soon as possible. He’d chosen to wear his dress whites, while you were in your dress uniform with its grey jacket and grey pants (thank god, they’d actually let you choose whether you wanted to wear a skirt or pants and nobody had pitched a fit when you’d gone for the pants, explaining that you would “stick out like a sore thumb as is”, you didn’t want to add to that by being the only person wearing a skirt. The other female cadets in your class had all chosen the pants as well.) – and the new golden edelweiss on your collar. Fuck, if he didn’t look like he’d stepped off the pages of one of the romance novels you’d been devouring recently.

“Congratulations, darlin’. ‘m so damn proud of you,” he murmured before bending down to press his lips against yours in what had to be the most chaste kiss of the century. But you were still in sight of your superiors, so you couldn’t go too far. Especially since your relationship had already sparked enough gossip – and a three-hour briefing on what you could tell your boyfriend and what you couldn’t, not that you hadn’t figured out most of the things with you usually being on the receiving end of Bob’s professional silence. You didn’t feel like adding fuel to the fire, even though you positively ached to kiss Bob the way you really wanted to and to stick your hands in his hair and mess up that gelled back hairdo he was sporting.

You could feel your cheeks heat at the thought of how you didn’t even want him to take off his uniform. You just wanted to get him home and have him fuck you while he was still wearing his dress whites. “Thank you, baby,” you finally replied to Bob’s praise.

He raised an eyebrow and slightly cocked his head at your reaction, but you saw recognition bloom on his face when you lightly bit down on your bottom lip. He leaned in close to whisper in your ear. “Do we still have to go to any official dinners or parties, or do you think, we can jus’ sneak off?” His voice was rough, lower than it had been just a minute ago, and it sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You briefly closed your eyes before you looked back up into those light blue eyes of his, trying to look as innocent as you could muster. “I’m afraid, there’s one more we have to go to. My new squad leader’s paying, and it would probably be good to get to know them a bit before next Monday. But I’m sure, they’ll understand if we don’t stay for too long.”

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant.” His lips stretched into a smirk, the kind of which you imagined only you saw on the regular, as another shiver raced down your spine and left goosebumps in its wake despite the June heat. Damn it. You knew, how much he liked it when you called him by his rank. But this? This was new. And you loved it. “You wanna take the lead when we get home?” He wrapped an arm around your waist and drew you in closer as you nodded.

“Hell yeah, I do.” You both chuckled at your response. Usually, you had no problem handing over control to Bob, especially in the bedroom. But sometimes, especially if things had been stressful and since you’d joined flight school, you liked to be the one to make him whimper and beg for a change. Tonight would not be any different. You grinned as your mind was already busy conjuring up ideas.

***

“Good god, I’m so sorry. I had no idea, he could talk that much,” you groaned when you finally entered your off-base apartment with Bob hot on your heels. Initially, you’d expected to only stay for maybe two hours with your new squad. But then time had stretched on and now it was almost ten pm. You were exhausted. But also restless. Besides, you actually had the weekend off, starting with Saturday tomorrow. And Bob would leave on Sunday evening, so who would fault you for not wanting to go to sleep yet?

You toed off your shoes as Bob closed and locked the door and then leaned his back against it. His eyes were closed, a sigh left his lips and for the first time since you’d picked him up from the airport, he looked tired. You inched closer to him, snuggling into his chest, despite his buttons and ribbons digging into your cheek. You could feel him relax against you, just as the tension finally left your own shoulders.

“You know,” you began to mumble into his jacket, “I’d get it if you wanted to go to sleep after today. We’ve still got tomorrow and Sunday after that.” You really would have understood if his response had been yes, wouldn’t have minded just curling into his embrace and against his warm body in bed as you both drifted off to sleep.

But to your surprise, he simply lightly pushed on your shoulders until he could get his fingers under your chin and tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “I might be tired, but that doesn’t matter. Haven’t seen you in months. Just wanna … feel you. Make you feel good.”

“You want to be a good boy for me?” you replied with your own question, your own fingers inching up his neck until you could caress his cheek. He leaned into your touch and then nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.” His eyes were glued to yours, pupils blown a little wider than they had been just minutes before. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards when he heard the sharp intake of your breath at his words.

You groaned, squeezed your eyes shut and then leaned your forehead against his chest. His words only worsened the throbbing in your core, while you fought the urge to squeeze your thighs together. “I never thought, I’d actually like it when people call me that. Makes me feel so old.” You swallowed thickly. Well, you weren’t entirely honest. You’d thought about what it would be like to hear Bob call you “Ma’am” or by your rank. The two of you had tried it out once, where he’d called you cadet and you’d immediately shut him down. It had made you feel too small, by no fault of his really. You just hadn’t liked it. But this? Hearing him call you Lieutenant? Especially in this tone of his he sometimes got when he was particularly needy and wanted you to ride him. It ignited a whole new wave of desire in your core that quickly spread throughout your whole body.

He chuckled. You felt his chest vibrate underneath your cheek. “Now you understand what you do to me when you call me by my rank?” His hand came up to cup the back of your neck. Your eyes almost fluttered closed again just feeling his fingers brush against your skin.

“You wanted me to call you Lieutenant and Sir,” you started to defend yourself. Bob’s grip around the back of your neck tightened. Only lightly, but enough to make you take a half step back, so you could look him in the eyes properly. The light blue of his eyes was almost completely swallowed by his blown-out pupils now. His other hand took your wrist and brushed your hand against the growing tent in his pants.

You could see his nostrils flare when you flexed your hand and grabbed his dick over his pants, rolling the heel of your palm against his tip. He jerked, his hips involuntarily bucking against your hand. He barely suppressed the moan bubbling out of his throat and you bit your lip to hide the grin threatening to break out on your face. “I know, you feel weird about people callin’ you ma’am at work. But when we’re off-duty and I call you that or by your rank, I don’t want you to ever think, it’s not a sign of my utmost devotion to you. I love you, Y/N. And I wanna make you feel good. Please. Lemme make you feel good. Show you how much I worship you, ma’am.”

He kept his eyes trained on yours as you leaned up on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his ever so lightly. He groaned and chased after your lips, but you took another step back, took your hand away from his crotch in the process. “Well, then you better show me you mean it, Lieutenant. Don’t you think?” You began to slowly walk backwards into your small apartment, undoing the buttons on your uniform jacket as you watched him stalk after you.

While discarding your uniform, you were careful not to wrinkle it. You’d have to probably go to the designated dry cleaner’s anyway, but just wanted to be safe. A thought that immediately left your head when you saw Bob reach up to undo his own buttons. You surged forward, put a hand on his and then said: “Did I say, you could undress, Lieutenant?”

Bob’s gaze flicked from your face to your hand on his. You were pretty sure, he’d also eyed the semi-lacy bra peeking through your open shirt, but you couldn’t fault him. While your current underwear couldn’t possibly be classed as lingerie, you were wearing a pretty, white set that came with lace trim around the hems, was super soft and comfortable to wear – but also had your now pebbled nipples poking through the cloth. “No, ma’am. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Lieutenant. I’ll let it slide this time. But just so we’re both clear, the uniform stays on until I say otherwise, understood?”

Bob startled, blinked once, twice, before he stuttered: “S-say again?” In another instance you would have teased him for so easily falling back into the standard ICAO phraseology, but this time, you just smiled. You shrugged off your white shirt, relishing in the way his eyes tracked every little one of your movements. He licked his lips as you pressed your body against his, nudging his cock with your thigh. One of your hands travelled up his chest, over his ribbons. Your nails lightly scratched the skin of his neck until you could tangle your fingers into his hair. And you tugged. Not hard enough to actually hurt him, but enough to elicit a broken moan.

“I said, the uniform stays on until I say otherwise.” You tugged again. “Did you understand me, Lieutenant Floyd? Or do I have to spell it out for you?” He leaned down a bit, until your faces were only inches apart.

You could see the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He would obey for now, play along with your little game, but you would definitely be having a conversation about your apparent uniform kink later. And you knew, he would use it against you when he could.

“Loud and clear, ma’am.” He wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you a little closer, and you guessed, to keep your body pressed against his, give you a harder time to escape his grasp again.

“Good.” You pressed a small kiss to his lips, ducking away before he could deepen it. You started to back up again, into your bedroom while you opened the button and fly of your pants, pushed them down over your thighs and let them pool down at your feet. You heard him groan and felt his fingers lightly brush over your ass when you turned around to walk over to your bed. You swatted his hand away, then bent over to push down your panties.

Bob swore under his breath, and you couldn’t help the grin that lit up your face at his reaction. You’d soaked through your panties by now, knew he could see it. Was probably itching to bury his fingers and face in your pussy. But when you caught his gaze, your breath hitched in your throat and your overly confident, dominant persona faltered for a split second. Fuck. He looked like he was going to devour you the second he got his hands on you. For a moment, you wondered if you’d gone too far in teasing him this much.

“What’s your color, baby?” you asked and slowly sank down on the edge of the bed.

“Green. Still, very much green. But, damn, Y/N…” His gaze briefly landed on your pussy and the wetness you knew he could see staining your inner thighs. You swallowed, before you leaned back a bit, steadying yourself on your hands.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get over here and show me what other talents your mouth and those thick, nimble fingers of yours possess.” He didn’t even respond verbally this time, only made a sound that reminded you of a growl. He nodded, once, just a quick, curt movement of his chin. Then he closed the distance between the two of you in two long strides.

His hands were on you before you could even tell him to touch you. One of them cradled your head and pulled you closer, so he could crash his lips against yours in what you’d call a complete 180° turn from how you’d kissed on base earlier that day. You moaned into the kiss, tangled one of your hands into his hair and easily opened up for his tongue to slip into your mouth. His other hand wandered down, quickly squeezing your right breast before it dipped down between your legs.

“Bobby,” you gasped against his lips as he swiped his fingers through your folds and pressed his index finger lightly against your clit.

“What, no more orders for me, ma’am?” He smirked against your lips as you desperately shook your head. You’d thrown your persona out the window the minute he’d fully touched you. All that mattered was feeling his body against yours now. Nothing else.

“Fuck that. Need you to take over. Fuck me, Bob. Please.” You could barely suppress the moan ripping out of you as he quickly shoved two fingers inside of you.

He groaned into another kiss; you knew he could feel you clench around his fingers. How you grew even wetter. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ll do anything you want if you ask me this nicely.”

When you opened your mouth to tell him what exactly it was you wanted, he gently withdrew his fingers from your pussy and pushed them past your lips instead. You closed your mouth around his fingers, letting your tongue swirl over the tips and let out a low moan at the taste – and the fact that he had just figured out what you wanted without you having to ask.

He slowly sank down on his knees in front of you, grabbed your thighs and placed them on either side of his head. He looked up at you, making you wonder if it was even possible for his eyes to grow even darker? Much like you, he’d foregone his usual glasses for the day and opted for contacts, making you almost miss the feeling of the frame digging into your skin. Without his gaze ever leaving your face, he turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to the skin of your inner thigh. “This what you were gonna ask me to do, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly, trying to push him closer to your core with your heel, but to no avail. “Yes.” Any other time you would have been fucking mortified at how needy and breathless you sounded, and he’d barely touched you. But you’d done the same to him, it was only natural, he’d turn the tables on you as soon as he got the chance. And you’d handed him the reins freely after all.

“Yes, what?” He’d practically growled the words, raised an eyebrow at you and slowly leaned closer to let his hot breath ghost over your now practically dripping pussy.

You swallowed again, scrambling to find your voice and command your tongue to move. “Yes, Sir.” You could barely hear his mumbled “Good girl” in response; your heartbeat was so loud in your ears, you wondered how he hadn’t heard it yet. And then he dove right in. Licking, sucking, groaning into you as he got a taste of you after you’d barely been able to even talk on the phone for months. You leaned back further, your mouth fell open and you let the moans and gasps flow freely. When you bucked your hips against his face, his left hand came up to grip your right hip; his right hand landed on one of your breasts, pulling down your bra, so he could grab at the flesh and roll your nipple between his fingers.

Your arms trembled underneath your weight as your hands dug into the duvet underneath you. You didn’t even hold back the praise, told him how good he made you feel. In return, he doubled down on his efforts of eating you out like he was a man starved. It didn’t take long for you to reach the edge, but Bob made no move to slow down. Instead, the hand that had been kneading your breast wandered down until he shifted his mouth to your clit and thrust three of his fingers back inside of you, curled them up to hit the spot that sent you careening over the edge with a litany of “Oh my God”s leaving your mouth.

Your arms had now fully collapsed under you as you slowly returned to your body and your chest heaved with every breath as you were gasping for air. Bob pulled off of you and crawled over you, light concern shone in his eyes as he asked if you were okay.

You nodded after a couple seconds of blinking and trying to regain your ability of speech. “That was …”

You’d trailed off and before you could pick up your train of thought, Bob interrupted you: “So, what else did you have in mind for tonight?” His left hand was drawing abstract shapes onto the skin of your right hip and stomach while he waited for your reply.

You groaned, closed your eyes and dragged a hand over your face. “I … hadn’t decided, actually. Either, I ride your cock or you bend me over and fuck me until I can’t walk.” You peered up at him through your lashes with a sheepish grin. You couldn’t place the origin of the flush creeping up your neck and spreading over your chest. It was either desire or embarrassment. Or, more likely, a mix of both.

He chuckled and let his head drop down for a quick peck against your lips, before he shook his head at you. “Jesus, Y/N.”

“Sor–” you’d almost said before a hand over your mouth silenced you.

“Don’t apologize for that. Besides, I did say, I’d do anything for you, didn’t I?” He smiled down at you as you nodded, still somewhat bashful at your suggestion. Without another word, Bob stood up and you whined at the loss of contact as his hands trailed off of you as well. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll be right back where you want me. Where’d you put the condoms?”

Oh, that’s where he was going? No, no, no. That didn’t work with the fantasy you’d sketched out in your mind all week as you’d touched yourself – at night, in the shower… You sat up and grabbed his wrist with a hand to pull him back towards you. “No condom tonight. I’m on birth control anyway for my cramps. And I …” You looked down, wanting to look at your knees, but your gaze got caught on his dick straining against his pants.

“What is it, Y/N?” He leaned back down, put a finger underneath your chin and tilted your head backwards, so you had to look at him. You bit down on your lip and closed your eyes for a second, praying that he’d understand what you were trying to say. “You want me to fill you up, sweetheart? Hm? Feel my cock inside of you, feel me come inside you?”

You nodded, breathed out another “Yes”.

Bob groaned in response. He squeezed his eyes shut, his lightly dominant persona leaving the room for a second as he looked at you again and quietly asked: “Is that why you want me to fuck you from behind?” Again, you could only nod and respond in a whisper.

He chuckled, gently cupping your cheek for a second and brought you in for a slow kiss. You practically melted into his touch and sighed against his lips when he pulled away again. “Well, lose the bra, turn around and get on your knees, sweetheart.” His voice was back to the low, darker and more dominant undertone. His gaze felt heavy on you as you scrambled to unhook the clasps of your bra behind your back and then threw the garment behind you. You’d pick it up later.

You scooted back onto the bed, before finally turning around and waiting for his next move on your hands and knees, completely bare before him now. Your heart fluttered in your chest when you heard him undo his belt and pull down the zipper of his pants. Goosebumps spread over your skin as his fingers traced your vertebrae and his lips pressed kisses against some of the healing bruises on your back. (Nobody had ever said, flying a fighter jet at hundreds of knots and with multiple Gs wouldn’t leave a mark on you.)

The buttons and ribbons on his jacket dug into your skin as he leaned over you, putting part of his body weight on you. He lightly nibbled on the junction of your neck and shoulder and you whined, pushing your ass back against his definitely rock-hard cock. He slipped into you easily, setting a pace that had you squeezing your eyes shut again as you let your head hang low and exposed your neck for his lips and tongue and teeth to mark you up as his, just as his cock marked your pussy.

He kept mumbling praises into your ear in-between groans and moans from both of you. But with how you’d worked each other up, it didn’t take long for either of you to get close to the edge again. “Fuck, darlin’. ‘m so close.”

“Please, Bobby. Come in me. Want to feel you.” You whined at a particularly rough thrust and your whole body shuddered when his fingers found their way down to your clit.

“Right there, Y/N. Just need you to come with me, ‘kay? Can you be a good girl and come with me?”

You weren’t sure if you’d replied to his words when your second orgasm of the night hit you like a freight train. The wave of pleasure pulled you under and you distantly felt Bob’s hips stutter, then still, as he reached his own climax and spilled into you with a low, guttural groan and a mumbled “Fucking hell”.

It took a while for the ringing in your ears to fade out, your breathing normalized as did Bob’s. Although he didn’t move from his spot behind you. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled your back against his chest as he tipped the both of you over onto your sides. He kissed your shoulder.

“That how you imagined it, sweetheart?”

If you’d had any strength left in your body, you would have rolled over in his arms to look him in the eyes. But as it was, you simply craned your neck a bit, humming at the kiss that landed on your cheek in response. “Better. So much better.”

“’M glad. Have to take care of my new Lieutenant, don’t I?” You heard the grin in his voice and weakly rolled your eyes at the teasing lilt.

“Of course, you do. You’re always a good boy for me and take such good care of me.”

He groaned lowly and sunk his teeth lightly into your shoulder again. “If you keep that up, you won’t have to wait long for round two.”

You chuckled, before fully relaxing in his arms with a sigh. “Good. I was planning on riding your cock while you were still in your dress whites, anyway.”

#sophie writes #fic: yes ma'am #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x f!reader #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x you #top gun bob #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fucks

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rise-my-angel · 9 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

15 - Fire for the King's Blood

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

Length: 13.1k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, slow burn, character death, descriptions of blood and gore, mention of child death, executions

Notes: Fun fact the very last scene of this chapter was the first ever scene I thought of for this entire series. Past Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The air at Castle Black felt suffocating. Men in black gathered all around the main court as you and Theon entered and there was not a single word spoken by any of them. A mixture of morose sadness and a nervous despair radiated throughout as more approached the scene. Theon let you climb off first, slowly holding onto the saddle as you barley turned to anyone with something inside of you screaming beyond what you’ve ever felt before.

Not just black was around, some in furs different then that, more wild and on their own that were neither Night’s Watch nor your fathers men. Looking around you, none seemed to dare say a word as Theon once more asked to see Jon Snow.

What did come forward first, a slowly moving figure of white on all fours. Moving quiet as some parted either way to give him a path. You recognized the pure white fur and red eyes, the size however was vast and larger then your tiny memory of him before. Ghost had grown close to the size of Grey Wind, but walked with silence and a slow intent towards you. Pausing in the middle of the clearing, the direwolf looked at you with a strange emotion that too made you feel off. Like Ghost was looking at you with an emotion you’ve only seen on a person, like he looked at you like one person.

The one who wasn’t there.

Stepping towards Ghost was when finally a very small group came towards you. All once more, cleared the way for them as they looked the most lost and devastated. You felt sick each passing second. The one leading was shorter, long dark hair laying straight across his back and a low crackling voice as he asked your name. The one behind him was large, quite large with wild orange hair and beard that was dressed none like them.

As you looked at them, you felt dizzy.

The Ice Cells were carved right into the base of the Wall and led to a dark underground that was lit only by the fires hung from the stone sides. Only a hall and solid metal doors, each room was individual and shut off from each other. The descent was steep and freezing, as the men walked a few paces behind you and Ghost slowly at your side.

The shorter one, Edd, motioned to the slightly open door as you walked slowly forward. Your face felt frozen in a heart stopping denial that begged to cry as you felt the cold rush through it. Edd had to almost inaudibly try and tell Ghost to just let you be, the direwolf watching you with strangely intense eyes before backing up, leaving the dark area of the cells to the only two people left in there.

Stepping inside the room, your blood ran as cold as the ice made of the walls around you. Your heart no longer beat inside your chest as you saw him there. Laid out flat and stiff as any you’d ever seen. Each step forward you felt that once screaming inside of you fade out into a pit of darkness that wanted to swallow you hole and never be seen again.

He was different then you last saw. Older, more rugged with hair longer and wilder then that day on the Kingsroad, and facial hair that was well groomed but coarse and thick. Dressed in black leathers with the laces of his shirt slightly opened. Just out on the ground he was. They found him this way, Edd told you. Ghost had come to them with a desperate aggression and first saw the blood seeped into the snow, and then followed him down to these very cells where he had been hidden away as if to pretend the crime never happened. His eyes had been shut, likely done by the men who found him in respect.

When you had come along with King Robert to see Lord Arryn, the Silent Sisters all around him, he was dressed up and anointed in their preparation. Stones with painted eyes had been placed on his shut ones and he looked to you more like a statue of a man, then the man himself. Robert had commented that if he didn’t know any better he’d have thought he was sleeping.

Jon Snow didn’t look like that. His skin was pale, and a tint of the faintest blue from the cold. The blood soaked into the leathers on his torso were thick and sticky. Across his face there were scars, one thin and faded down one eye and another that curve around the side of his face near the other that was red and painful looking. He didn’t look like a statue, he didn’t look asleep. He just looked like every corpse you’d seen and made in the Westlands.

Kneeling down onto the ground beside him, you felt your lungs so tight they couldn’t breathe as you shaking reached forward. Your finger shaking as they slowly undid the remaining laces and pulled to the side to reveal more of his chest, and there they were.

One low close to his stomach, and six scattered across the main area of his chest as they sat red and violent. Your fingers though, gently reached up to one curved across his heart, the second the jagged feeling touched your skin you felt yourself drop.

Dizzy and lightheaded at the same time as no breathe nor heartbeat nor thought and sound made it’s way through your head and body. You fell back, the iron bars that separated part of the room slammed into your back and head as you hit them. Your palms braced on the ground as you looked to him in a deathly shock.

There was no way of knowing how long you were there for, how long you looked at him and felt so twisted and dark inside that it felt like nothing else in you was left. You had parted ways all those years ago, not knowing if you’d ever see each other again but this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. This wasn’t supposed to be how you reunited with Jon. You and Theon weren’t supposed to be the only ones left.

Theon had risked everything to help you escape, put his life on the line for you just to bring you to Jon, to the one man who would protect you but it was too late. You could feel that last time, the way his large, gloved hands had cupped your cheeks with that bright grin and grey eyes of his as he joked, “Think I could get to the wall before they catch me, if I kiss you now?”

But now you just sat there. Against the bars in that bitter, dark cold as tears ran freely down those same cheeks he once held as you found nothing for you. It was possible the panic hit you so much you blacked out, there for so long just watching the still body of the one man who never had to do anything to keep your heart.

He had taken it with him here, and now it was left in the cold as he was. Tears on your face had frozen and covered with more as you barley moved. Last night they had said, he was alive just last night and yet the morning hours you arrived were enough time to cut into him.

You didn’t notice anyone come in. Your back against the iron, knees up to your chest as your forearms rested across them. The tears found no need to be covered up as you watched him in silence as the figures came to your side.

Both were large, one the pure white that had lost as you did. Ghost approached you slowly, his eyes trained on Jon before turning to you and nudging right up against the side of your head. Your hands reached up, grasping at the soft fur before you turned your face into him. Ghost almost seemed to move as if to bury his own head in your neck back before moving. Your legs slipping in front of you to lay flat, as the direwolf rested his head on your lap. Eyes watching Jon, but keeping right at your side.

The other figure you didn’t expect. They had left, giving you time alone but it seemed the longer you were gone one had taken the time on his own to go see if you were alright. The large one from before, orange hair still wild and his own blue eyes stared at Jon as intensely as you did, but without the tears pulling from your heart down onto your cheeks. He mimicked the position you were in just seconds before but took his own time to find any strength to speak.

His voice was deep, a rumbling that if loud you suspected would boom like a thunder. “Impossible to get him to open up. Always so quiet like he never wanted to talk about himself, until it was about you.” The man, Tormund, had something held back in his own chest you could hear, a pain of his own. “Took us a while, but once I got him to talk about you it was like that’s all he could talk about. Think it’d been a long time since he did. Called him a moron for leaving a girl like that behind.”

He had no choice, that’s what he said and you both knew there was nothing either could do to have changed it. Your voice was rough, dry as it quietly murmured out. Eyes trained on him, on where the red on his chest lay. “We never had a chance did we..”

Ghost perked up, moving to watch your face with something like a surprised gaze for a wolf but instead just sat up more to watch you directly as you found more of a voice finally. “You found him here?”

Tormund nodded, motioning to the direwolf, “That one found him, body was still warm even. No one even saw a thing.”

“Mercy, sire, I didn’t kill anyone, I only watched for the guards.”

Something however, didn’t agree with that. Something in you that was dark and hollow, but it opened like a wound and slipping in was rage. A rage that brew and grew, as your eyes narrowed and jaw clenched as you looked at Jon. “Someone saw it. And I’m willing to wager it was more then just a someone who did it.”

Footsteps approached behind you as Edd rejoined. A stilted grief as he paused looking to the sight before him, behind him as well was Theon. Theon who at that point, had a silent wide eyed look as he too saw the image in front of him. Edd clearing his throat before looking only to you, “Sorry to interrupt, your grace but-”

The voice that spoke after was one you too hadn’t learn in a long time. “There are things I think we need to discuss.” Turning in place, you didn’t see him just outside the door.

Looking back to Jon, and then Ghost who barley looked away from your eyes, you paused before accepting the outstretched hand of Tormund who pulled you up with ease and followed you as closely as the direwolf did. The door behind you closing as the lot of you were standing now in the equally as empty corridor of the cell block. Standing before you though, was a grim looking man who you last saw on the other side of the lines.

“Not exactly how I envisioned seeing you again.”

Ser Davos Seaworth was still here. Your father and his men had all been here, and yet so far the only trace of them left was the one in front of you. “To be fair, Ser Davos I don’t know anyone who expected to see me again.” Edd, Tormund, and Davos all hesitated as they looked at you, “What?”

It was Edd who spoke up, “That’s what we needed to talk about. Don’t think we’re putting any blame on you, your grace, but..the last thing we saw of Jon before he- it was a letter he got. About you.”

Davos was the one who sent the nail into your heart. “A letter from the Boltons.”

Sharing an uneasy look with Theon, you swallowed harshly trying to keep an even expression and as steady of a tone as you could. “Why would the Boltons send Jon a letter about me?”

Davos elaborated as you all stood in the dark and the cold. “The boy, Ramsay, sent him a letter...accusing him of..stealing you. Calling you his bride and saying Jon’s the one who stole him and that if he didn’t give you back then Ramsay would go hunting for you himself.” They knew where you went, but why would they think Jon actually had anything to do with it? That didn’t make sense.

“Where is it now?” No one answered, but your voice this time had less patience then before. “The letter, where is it?”

Edd spoke up, “We don’t know. It was on Jon the last time we saw him, but was gone when we found him here.” Your eyes narrowed more, your blood flowing a little faster then before. “I don’t know if they were trying to hide what they did at all, or if this was just to stall anyone from finding out why they did it but, if that letter’s gone-”

“Someone has it.” You looked between them all, “Someone has that letter and whoever does, helped do this.” Edd repeated the word helped in question as you inhaled deeply. “No one saw who did it, no one saw it happen, and there’s way too many wounds in his chest for only one man to do this and get away unharmed, unseen. This wasn’t just a murder.”

“Mutiny.” Tormund finished for you, and you nodded at him.

In the quiet you crossed your arms, looking down as your mind raced before meeting their eyes all once more. “Who here had the most to gain by this? Someone who didn’t want Jon as Lord Commander, someone who had reasons to want him dead?”

Edd had the answer to that. “Ser Alliser Thorne. Been here more then twenty years, hated Jon from the first day he arrived, and lost to him when we voted for our new Lord Commander. Some of the men didn’t like Jon neither, but not enough to do this.”

Tormund’s voice was clearer, more determined as now an anger set in his own eyes as he looked to yours. “So that’s where we start.”

The plans that were made in the quiet of that cell were organized, but not before one last thing had to be brought up. This time, the look in Davos’s eye spoke something of more bad news. “There is one last thing you should know. It’s about your father...and your sister.”

Ghost had not left your side as you came back into the main court. All onlookers seemed to be put off by the sight, the large direwolf only ever listened too by one man, either commanded by Jon or off on his own and yet now never once left your side as you stepped onto the gravel. Looking around with a narrowed, harsh gaze you knew some of them were involved. But stood around doing their work as if nothing was wrong or had nothing to hide.

A young pair of eyes was unsettled and on edge as he looked at you, and even more as he met Ghost’s eyes before taking off. Quite young you thought, but not much more of it. Not now. The others had been given their instructions leaving you, Ghost and Tormund together. A strange trio likely to be seen.

Glancing down at you, his eyebrow quirked up. “What’s with none of you royalty ever dressing for the cold?” He did admittedly look rather warm but something to you about the cold was crisp and needed inside. A familiar sting that kept you up.

You shrugged a shoulder, “Call it stubbornness.” At the least you weren’t trapped in this ice and snow in a dress currently. Watching the people currently, your eyes glanced up to a walkway on an upper floor that made you feel a deeper rage filter in.

So she was watching you it seemed. Her eyes met yours as a curious look waved over her and met nothing but anger. You had one reason to despise her, but now you had an even stronger one. You had to keep such a feeling down. You couldn’t handle this all at once. The red had to wait.

But you would eventually. No Lord Commander, no order in their ranks, and no longer the King that came to their aid. That’s what Davos had said to you, what Ramsay had said of the “false King” and what was done in the chaos after.

It was all a mess that you missed by mere hours. Turning back to Tormund, you crossed your arms in thought as he spoke. “Most crows here hate my guts more then they did his, me and the wolf’ll keep an eye on you from afar.”

Ghost didn’t move with him, a low rumble in his throat as you looked down to him before nodding behind you to follow. You found it odd, the way he stared at you like he was trying to challenge you on something before he relented and followed Tormund. They’d watch from the distance, giving the other men around here a little more ease if it was only you they spoke too. Trying to learn mostly from listening.

You found more men that mourned Jon then disliked him. Edd had said it seemed like half his brother’s all hated Jon, but you didn’t find that in this somber grief. Perhaps the vocal few only stood out amongst the quiet supporters as if the bigger number. Just what you thought, most knew nothing and the brave ones naming a few names that had issues with Jon in the past. Certain names coming up more often then others.

A few men were Northerners, those ones held a bit of shock and awe as they spoke to you, but had the inclination of your cold and on edge demeanour that you were not in the place to discuss that you were indeed, alive. Not the image of the Queen in the North some of them had likely, but they’d have to forgive you on such a slight.

You didn’t feel like that woman, not since losing Robb at the Twins, and not while the man whose heart you were ripped away from sat in the cold with a stab wound in his own. Hard to say but you may never feel like that woman again. Those same young eyes found yours more then once when you found yourself coming into what appeared to be some kind of dining hall.

A few men all sat at a table when the others were in tiny scattered pairs or alone far from them. At the far front was a man with a spiteful look in his eyes, deep lines in his face from years of such a scowl and as he spoke it was a mocking that you felt yourself tense at.

“So we traded one King for a dead Queen. Seems like we’re all having difficulty remembering the Night’s Watch has nothing to do with your politics and wars.” He seemed to hold a level of authority over the others who watched in silence.

Easy to figure out who this was. “Ser Alliser, I see your skills of hospitality are as gracious as your attitude.” Walking slowly up to the other end of the long table, you met his eyes as he leaned back in his seat with a glare.

Some quiet ones, begun to walk back out the door. “If you’re here for Lord Snow I’m afraid your a bit too late.” Amusement was in his eyes, but none in yours. Edd was not lying it seemed. “Sorry to see you leave so soon after arriving.”

This time your eyebrows quirked up as you kept about a foot in front of the table. “Forgive me gentleman, I’m not terrible familiar with the day to day of the Night’s Watch but it strikes me as odd Ser Alliser, that your Lord Commander is found dead in the middle of the night, and his First Ranger is just sitting around as if he has nothing to attend to on the matter.”

There was a distinct quiet between a few of the men that caught your eye with a flashing flicker to them and back. The mans glare deepened. “Hard to attend to my duties with you and the wildlings sniffing around.”

You didn’t move and no one else dared breathe. “You don’t find it curious that no one saw your Lord Commander’s murder, and then his body hidden away hoping no one would find him? Or the letters he had been carrying with him that are now missing?”

A tiny passing glint in his eyes flew past, but you did not miss it one bit. Ser Alliser clenched his jaw as he leaned forward, “You mean the one about you? The ravings of a stupid boy trying to lure out another stupid boy to fight over a girl?” Taking a sip from his mug, he drew the moment out before letting it thud back onto the table. “The Night’s Watch has a duty and none of it says we should care about a southern girl’s lovers quarrel.”

The quiet ones at the table all seized up and drew back into themselves as the looming figure of Tormund came up to one side of the table, adjacent to you. Voice crackling as it was loud. “You crows call yourselves brothers, but here you all are sitting around while she does all the work.”

Neither you nor Ser Alliser looked away from the other. “That’s not quite fair. This is hard work, covering up for traitors and murderers in his ranks.”

Bracing his hands on the table he straightened up, “Are you accusing me of something, girl?”

The air was thick, and the table was silent as well as the room. But you shrugged, he had given you enough information, despite how minimal it truly was. The atmosphere at Castle Black was completely tense, but some of that tensity seemed to grow more rotten then others. Clearly, work was not just cut out for you, but had been for Jon to make this all work as well. “Innocent men are usually the quickest to defend themselves, the guilty usually deflect in my experience.”

You had stroke something inside of the man clearly that spawned an anger, you had moved to turn away from the table heading to the door when the sound of him standing up abruptly hit. Tormund turned around first, your eyes only managing to catch the aggressive stance Ser Alliser stood with when it happened.

As if from nowhere, Ghost flew past your vision as he leaped up onto the table. Only in a few short strides was he hovering in the man’s face, a growling almost snarling sound coming from him as he bore his teeth and leaned close into him. Every man at that table jumped back to their feet and no doubt Ghost was so close his breath would be felt.

It was a display everyone in the room including Tormund stood surprised at for a moment, like such a fast and aggressive display of anger from the direwolf wasn’t normal. You hadn’t seen Ghost since you last saw Jon, but this wasn’t the demeanour you knew. This was closer to the strength and protective nature of Grey Wind, only Ghost did so without any single kind of prompt.

It took you to softly whisper Ghosts name for him to stop. Snapping at Ser Alliser’s face, making him flinch back as the direwolf turned on the spot to come up to you. His height added with the table had him loom over you with eyes so red they looked like blood. Unlike any others would’ve, you had no hesitation or fear as you reached up to him.

Running a hand gently across the fur along his neck as the rumbling in his chest vibrated through your fingertips. Only relaxing the longer your hand stayed on him before you glanced behind to Ser Alliser. Who watched you still taken back by what was something the direwolf had never done before. He’d been almost attacked like that once before years ago, but not by that wolf.

As you three filed out, Ghost growled once more before staying so close you could’ve felt his fur were your arms not covered. Theon approached you shortly after, “Your grace,” So quickly Theon fell back into it it seemed. You tried not to think of that night, of Robb smirking telling him he didn’t need to call you both that in private. “I have someone who wants to speak to you.”

Tormund and Ghost both stayed outside. Theon bringing you to where your fathers quarters had been, opening the door you took a pause to look around. Your mother had a room private to herself it seemed, you’d have to deal with that eventually you knew.

So this room stayed cold and empty now, trying not to look at the open books scattered on the table in the living space as you turned to the desk. Covered in work and papers as Theon closed the door and settled near the wall, you saw the young figure in the chair in front of you.

Walking around to the far side, you recognized the young boy that had watched you nervous many times before. Only now he sat rigid and something in his eyes barley keeping himself together. Taking a seat, you wondered briefly how much of what was left on here did they expect was your responsibility now, because when the boy spoke, it was that of someone who recognized who you were before all of this.

Eyeing him stoically as he spoke. “You’re the Queen, right? Robb Stark’s wife?” You felt a tiny leap in your heart that only added to the darkness that was currently trapped between the bodies of two men ripped from you. You nodded as he wrung his hands together before looking around even more nervous then before. Asking what his name was he swallowed heavily, “Olly.”

You leaned forward, your forearms resting on the desk with your hands clasped together. The move only made the boy more nervous it seemed. “You wanted to tell me what it was you saw, is that it?” He nodded, your lungs tightening a bit. You had to deal with this, you couldn’t push this way beacuse it hurt.

You arrived and no one but his closest companions had done a thing about Jon, no one took responsibility and no matter how much it feel rotting and sick inside, you needed to know what happened. “I want you to know what you’re getting yourself into, Olly. If you know something about last night, tell it all and tell it true. It’s a great crime to lie to a Queen.”

Olly started slow, tripping over his words like his heart was about to explode from his chest. “I’m- I was his steward..the letter he got, about you, it uh...he wanted to go find you, they said it was against his vows and then-” Just as you wondered if he was put up to this, your heart slammed down into the floor as Olly suddenly seemed to snap, the words almost coming with tears. “I did it-”

Your face fell instantly, barley getting those three words out before he could barley even breathe as he fell apart before you. In an instant you looked up to Theon, “Leave us.” Trying to protest, likely for your own safety you wouldn’t have it. “Now, Theon.”

As soon as the door closed, you quickly moved from your seat. Kneeling in front of him you looked up, your own heart so hard in your chest it felt painful but your voice was gentle. “Breathe for me, Olly. Take a breathe, like that yes. Now do it again.”

One of your hands reached up hold at his upper arm, the touch almost seemed to soothe him as he listened to you. One intake of air at a time before he started to come down. The tears tried not to fall, but the desperation in them gave him back some head space. Enough that his voice was small and watery, “I’m sorry, I did it, I’m sorry.”

Nerves jumped in you, fighting to tell them inside to stay calm. You saw what Jon’s chest looked like and you were fairly certain there was more to this then a crying boy. “Look at me, Olly. I need you to tell me what you mean, what exactly did you do.”

Keep calm you told yourself, over and over, keep calm. You wanted to scream and cry and lash out ever since you stepped foot in that cell but now was not the time to lose your composure. This didn’t look like the eyes of a murderer and you had seen too many of those by this point in your life.

Taking one last breathe, he hung his head down before meeting your eyes again. Just a little kid he was, probably not much older then- no. Don’t think about that right now either. Stay in this moment you told yourself. “The Lord Commander had asked for anyone who may want to volunteer. Men to willingly go with him to find you, he- none of us knew you were alive, your grace. We all thought you were dead. Or, that’s what they told us.”

His accent was certainly a bit Northern, and just like the little family that spoke of you days ago, it felt odd after being struck down so painfully to be reminded of the person that the North and Robb both believed in. Were you still that Queen or had your jaded torment turned you more into the stern iron fist of your father. Looking at Olly, you hoped it was the former.

“For a while, I thought so too.”

Meeting your eyes, he sniffed before nodding again. You moved your hand from his arm, giving him some space to think but never moved from your crouched spot in front of him. Easier for a child to confess when looking down at the authority then up. “I didn’t want to, your grace. I didn’t want to, but they-” He paused. Knew you caught it and he slipped up but he sailed passed it as if it never happened.

“I was upset, he was bringing the wildlings south of the wall...I knew why, he told me...I was his steward he wanted me there at all times, said it was important to learn these things in case I was ever in command one day.” You wanted so badly to cry, hearing people who knew this version of Jon you’d never get the chance to but you could so perfectly imagine the man he became.

Speaking slowly, you tried to help put the pieces together in his high strung state. “So Jon brought the wildlings south of the wall, and that upset you enough to murder him?” Your tone was doubting and it only made him almost start crying all over again but something wasn’t quite adding up.

Shutting his eyes, he took a few deep breaths before meeting you again. “I thought it was..but then I...I actually...”

Your heart sunk, you knew what he was confused about. You knew it too well. Nothing will ever prepare you for when that feeling truly sets in, but at least you were an adult your first time. Not..not this. “Saying your angry enough to want to kill a man is different then being the one to actually do it.” He nodded, struggling to look at you as you continued softly. “Something isn’t adding up here, Olly. You didn’t do this on your own- no, look at me. I know you didn’t do this on your own. You didn’t shove a knife into Jon’s chest seven times and drag him out of sight all on your own and no one saw you.”

The boy looked at his hands, and you knew he wasn’t lying about what he did but you’ve seen what a child capable of such cruelty looks like and Olly looking nothing like the vile eyes that your once cousin held. He inhaled, opened his mouth to speak before shutting it again and shaking his head. “I can’t...they don’t know I’m even talking to you I was supposed to stay quiet and do as I was told.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Did someone tell you to do this? Did one of these men come to you and tell you to help murder the Lord Commander?” He nodded again, and you ran through the list of names and faces you’d heard during the day. And you could see the aggression in Ghost in your defence. It seemed, Olly wasn’t the only one who knew what happened but the only one who could tell you with words.

“They told me I had to help. That they had no other choice, that I should be angry for bringing them south of the Wall and I...that’s why it’s my fault. I let them talk me into it.” He didn’t look at you, but there was shame in his voice and his heart. “They made me go last, had me...stab him in the heart and...” His voice broke as you felt your muscles shake in nerves. “He just looked confused..like he didn’t understand why I was there, why I did it.”

Suddenly his voice rose, an anger that begun to paint on his face as he frustratingly wiped the tears away only for more to fall in their place. “He took me in, looked after me and wanted to train me to be like him. And I killed him.”

Your mind could see the scars on Jon’s chest. Seven of them all deep and only one above his heart. He would’ve bled out no matter what. Putting a knife in his heart was just to make sure no one found them before they could finish the job. You sighed deeply. Pushing up from your thighs to stand as you turned a few paces away.

Hand running over your mouth as you swallowed that pain once more. You wanted to be angry, wanted to find it in you to punish this child for what he did but who would you be if you did that? What justice was there in such a punishment for a child who couldn’t have understood the reality of what he was being told to do.

Leaning back across the desk you looked at him firmly. “I won’t lie to you, I’m mad. I’m furious, Olly. That man out there I came here with? He risked everything to get me here, put his life on the line to make sure I got here alive what do I find?” He rose his eyes up to meet yours, an exhausted defeat beginning to set in for him. “I find the man I came here for, the man..I find him murdered by his own brothers. Thrown in a cell like he’s just a slab of meat to be stored away. I’m more angry then you could possibly believe, Olly. You looked me in the eye and told me you shoved a knife into the heart of someone who meant the world to me and there’s nothing I can to change that.”

“But I also believe in justice. And I do not think that you played enough of a role here to be the one to face the brunt of that justice. And you’re also the only person who came to me. Of your own free will, you came to me and confessed what you did.” The hope you felt only a few hours ago as you and Theon rode up to the wall felt like it was a horrible dream by that point.

“Tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you’re a murderer. I think you were a normal boy who was taken advantage of by much older men here to help commit a horrible crime.” He didn’t confirm or deny, and you wondered if he was trying to grapple with who he was now as much as you felt yourself. “How did you get here. The Night’s Watch. What brought you here, with enough hate for the wildlings that it was used to trick you into thinking this was alright.”

Just as you suspected, he was a normal boy. Lived in the Gift in a small village with his mother and father and it was a raid by them that did it. You tried not to think of it, as he described the red headed woman who shot an arrow into his father. No reason to think it was the same one, but you couldn’t help but imagine it all the same.

The ordeal was as hard for him to get through as it was for him to tell you what he’d done. His father, his mother, the threat made by the men when they sent him running to Castle Black as a warning. You had been in enough battles to envision the carnage he had lived through.

Just a traumatized boy who lost everything in a few short minutes. Easy to manipulate for the right, or should you say, wrong people. Pulling a chair right up to sit by him you bent over to meet his eyeline with a low tone.

“You did a bad thing, Olly. An awful thing, to someone I care about no less, and justice tells me that such an action deserves a just sentence. But you’re also a child, who came to me and told me the truth all on your own. And I know for a fact that you didn’t plan this, and what you’ve done will already haunt you for the rest of your life. It haunts most of us.”

The fear in his eyes looked conflicted, deserve it or not he likely wondered. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. So here’s what we are going to do. You were Jon’s steward right?” Olly nodded yes. “For now, you stick with me. Either you’re by my side, or if not me then you stick by whoever I tell you to stay with, do you understand?”

He nodded again, his brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re...not going to execute me, your grace?”

“They were boys,”

Olly would’ve been around Willem and Martyn Lannister’s age. And you could still see them laying dead and mutilated in the halls of Riverrun and the anger that seeped so deeply through you and Robb. You could see Jon too, but you also saw the boys. “I watched the King in the North execute men who had murdered two boys your age. They were our prisoners, but they were boys and he executed men in his own ranks for such a murder. I won’t dishonour his memory or Jon’s by executing a child. But there is catch here, Olly.”

You leaned in close, “I’m not going to execute you, harm you, or even throw you in a cell. But you need to do one last thing for me in exchange. I need you to tell me the names of every single man involved in Jon’s murder. All of them.”

“I didn’t kill anyone, I only watched for the guards.”

Meeting his eyes, you found a little bit of admiration in them. Just a normal boy pushed to an extreme he couldn’t possibly have understood the consequences of. “If they knew about it, stood guard to make sure no one was around, stood back and watched, and every person who shoved a knife into his chest, I need all of their names. Starting with the one who planned this in the first place. You will stay by my side, but only if you tell me exactly who is the man who wanted the Lord Commander dead.”

He flinched at Tormund as he walked out, walking away quickly in discomfort as he left to follow your instructions. Yourself telling Theon to go find Edd, it left you, Ghost and Tormund alone. Standing by his side as you both looked out to the yard you spoke lowly. “I’m not going to ask how much you were involved in attacking that boys village, nor will I ask about anyone else involved.”

His voice was rough, and were it not for the confidence in you and with the way Ghost dutifully found your side you might have been intimidated by the gruffness. “Am I on the pretty crow’s chopping block now as well?”

To his suprise, you had no ire in you towards him. “The fact that you’re here, in this place, trying to help me find out who did this, tells me that Jon trusted you. Which means I have no reason not to trust you as well.”

Watching Edd approach you, Tormund smirked a bit. “Learned as much from him as he did from me, I think. When this is all over, should hear about what’s been happening out North. He was probably one of the only ones taking any of it seriously. Seen shit a pretty lady like you would never believe.”

Your dreams flashed of blues and fires, of bodies and figures like ice and the scar in your stomach twisted as Edd came up to you. “You’d be surprised what I am willing to believe.” Turning your attention to the man in front of you, he noted the fire in your eyes. “I want you to gather the men in your meeting hall. No excuses.”

Both men looked at you as Edd asked, “What’s this about?”

But you didn’t meet their eyes. You only recalled a day when somehow hundreds of miles apart, you and Jon seemed to see each other in a strange vision behind your eyes. The last time you saw him before the nightmare thrown at you here. “I have names.”

Standing across the way in your moment alone, you caught the eye of your mother. The sun was moving quickly along the sky and eventually it would turn to night and you’d have to deal with a whole new nightmare. You weren’t sure what to say to her, spent too long apart, too long on opposite sides of a war that tore you and your father apart so hatefully. And now as she stood there beside Ser Davos you could see the tint of red lurking behind her.

It was her religion, not yours, not Ser Davos’s, and not...not hers either. This was your mothers doing, your fathers encouragement but now you were the only one to handle the aftermath of what she had almost let the red woman do, what damage was done before she begged for her to stop.

You’d handle that later. Only one thing at a time.

Ghost turned to look at you, standing tall the way he was sitting close to your own height. Gods can direwolves grow, don’t they. Looking at him, you ran a hand over the fur at his neck. “Don’t know why you’re sticking with me. He got killed trying to come after me, if I got here sooner or..just died when I was supposed to..” Ghost growled at you, shifting onto his feet as he did so before nudging you with his head.

Turning to see no eyes left watching, you slowly slid your shirt up just enough that Ghost could see the edge of a deep, large wound across your lower stomach that had the direwolf growl more. Nudging it with his nose before training his red eyes up at you.

“I’m just saying, Ghost. If this killed me like it was supposed to, Jon would still be with you right now, wouldn’t he?” It was hard to explain why something about Ghost was bugging you. You’d never seen him nor any other of the direwolves act like this but you knew it had been years. Maybe you just didn’t know Ghost anymore.

Maybe you wouldn’t have known Jon either.

That image in the cave that flashed before you came back, maybe coming after you was a fluke. It sat rotten in your core to think Jon could have died, regretting ever trying to come for you. That whatever that image in your mind of the pretty redhead was the only love he had needed or wanted anymore.

Coming to the hall, you nudged Ghost to head down the stairs to the ground level. “It’ll be okay, go on.”

Your footsteps echoed as they walked across the wooden floor. The room cramped with men all with eyes trained on you. Up on a platform was a table with multiple chairs and none taken. Whatever hierarchy was in the Night’s Watch currently fell into your hands in that moment. And you hoped that it would be enough to play out what was needed to be done here.

Your hand trailed along the back of the chair in the middle of the table, before bracing both palms against them looking to the men. Some in clear view of you with a disdain you knew would never go away, Edd close down near the front with watchful eyes and Olly sitting to the side with his own nerves rampaging.

“Sometime last year, a group of your own men mutinied against Lord Commander Jeor Mormont. Held the girls there prisoners, and even held some of your brothers too. Men who died fighting at your sides. What was the punishment for the crimes of those men?” There was silence in the room before one man spoke up. You didn’t know him, but you appreciated the honestly as he named death as the punishment.

No one contested it, but your eyes found a few odd ones out. The one in your most direct view, Ser Alliser, watching with distrust. “And who was the man that led you all there to carry out that justice?”

Murmurs of Jon Snow rumbled through the hall.

You were trying not to let anger take over, it was growing harder and harder as Allisers’s eyes bored into your person. “And who became your Lord Commander?” More of the same murmurs. “Some of you may not have voted for him, but he became your Lord Commander all the same. The man that you follow, the one that leads you and the one you all fought beside multiple times. He put his life on the line for you all, and some of you repayed that kindness with treason.”

Some men fidgeted in their seats. Good. “One man in this room came up with a plan to attack your Lord Commander in the middle of the night, murder him, and tried to hide the body. Like a coward too afraid to face his own crimes.” The same men all looked at each other except for two. One young who watched you closely and the other daring you to continue along this path.

“He lays dead on the floor of a cell as some have hidden his murderer from you all. Your own brothers betrayed him, and they betrayed you. I don’t want your sadness or your sorry. I want your anger. I want you to be angry that someone here decided they had the right to murder a brother under your own noses and lie about it.”

The air in the room was thick, the heat rising as men spoke lowly to each other that increased as they discussed it. “So I will give you this one chance. Stand up in front of your men, your brothers and be honest about your own actions before I name you myself.”

Olly looked to you from his seat, your eyes only flickering to him as something inside of you raged. He was at least honest in what he did, and yet none of these men more then twice his age had any bravery to stand up for what they did. Jon died at their hands, because of you, and yet his own murderers were too cowardly to be as honest as he was.

He deserved far better then any of this.

“The Night’s Watch doesn’t answer to any Crown.”

Heads all turned to look at Thorne, and you stood up straighter in your place. You could see Theon far beside you watching curiously. It had been along time since he’d seen this side of you, a long time since you’d even been allowed to be a leader but he could see clear as day the weight on your shoulders.

“But you do.” Theon’s voice was more confident then it had been in years, and he tried not to focus on the heavy weight in your eyes that softened as you looked to him. “You take your orders from the Iron Throne, ask them for resources when you don’t have enough, and take their criminals as your own. She may not rule the Seven Kingdoms, but this is the North, and King Robb being dead doesn’t make her any less Queen in the North. Meaning right now, she’s your Queen, Ser.”

Sighing out you turned back to the room as the room turned to Ser Alliser. Theon had done a lot for you, but he wasn’t about to stop now. He didn’t have all of the details, but clearly finding Jon dead had hurt you harder then it did most people here. Hit you about as hard as he saw you hurt over Robb.

Ser Alliser stood up, the scraping of the stool echoing off the walls. “He already broke his vows. Murdered a brother, lay with a wildling, let those other wildlings into our walls and our lands and he was about to break another just to rescue you.”

You bit your tongue enough it was astounding you didn’t draw blood. The condescension in his tone as if lecturing a misbehaving child from him of all men. He was lucky you didn’t let Ghost tear him apart all those hours ago. “It is not your place to decide what is to be done about those actions. He was your leader.”

No guilt in his tone as he spoke and the rage built so much in your chest the men in the room could’ve heard your heart pounding. Or your muscles shaking with a tingling to leap and act. “And now he’s dead, that doesn’t mean we are going to listen to you.” And yet, not a single man in that room stood up, spoke, or moved a muscle. “I did what I did for the Watch, not to be lectured by a little girl throwing a tantrum over a dead man.”

Even the wind stopped for such a comment. For a second, in his eyes he realized what he said and steeled back as hard as ever. He knew there was no going back now, and it seemed he was confident in his position against yours. Two standing figures staring one another down as your voice was low.

Lower then before and only the sheer quiet in the room allowed everyone to hear it. “Are you confessing to your crime?” Everyone in the room turned to him. Some men looked nervous as it to be called out, Olly sat with a darkened narrow look on his face looking between you both. As if realizing that you truly had not shown him the same strength in power as now.

But the man just looked at you, raising his chin in the air with pride. “He was no brother of mine.”

Your eyes were almost black, muscles in your neck almost shaking from the rush of blood flying through your veins as you stared him down. You had one last card to play against him, and it came simply down to a matter of what side these men’s pendulum swung.

“Take Ser Alliser outside.”

Men all stood at once, slowly but in the intensity of the room it was felt by all as the attention was torn between both. Your voice quiet once more never breaking eye contact. “Olly, bring me a sword.” The boy rushing out without question, as everyone stood in the room.

Some men gathered near him, and you knew he was waiting for his brothers to stand by his side against you. He was confident in his dedication that they viewed his actions all the same, and in an instant that image was shattered to him.

Multiple men grabbed him, dragging the larger and stronger man out the door and down into the courtyard.

The sight of the amount of them all filing out of the room, down the steps and onto the court with a gritted teeth seething Ser Alliser caught the attention of those outside. The free folk with Tormund who all turned with a curiosity at the sight, and above on one of the landings, two more. Slowly making his way to the middle standing right in front of where they dragged him, Ghost watched quiet and tall with eyes so tense they looked almost human.

Selyse Baratheon stood with Ser Davos in a quiet conservation when the men of the Night’s Watch all filed out of their meeting hall. Ser Alliser Thorne in many of their holds being dragged up to a platform as the rest gathered on the ground around it. Both turned with a twisting on their faces at the sight as Edd knocked him down to his knees, neck overtop the wooden stump with an anger on his own that followed many of the faces amongst the crowd.

The sight that caught their attention the most, and the attention of the woman in red lurking nearby was the smaller, shorter figure then most of them descending the steps. Selyse had never seen this side of her eldest daughter before.

Coming to the ground, Olly came up to you and only for a second did you register the white pommel on the edge of the sword’s hilt. He had gone specifically to grab Jon’s own sword where it had been stashed in the Lord Commander’s room. The sword was large and heavy, more then what you were used to but as you grabbed it with your left hand you cared none of it.

The men parted ways to let you pass and it unnerved the approached Ser Alliser how you blinked not once as you came his way. Up onto the steps you stood to the side of him, unsheathing the sword that had been given to Jon personally. Refitted for him personally. It only seemed just to do so with it as you handed it’s holding to Theon.

The rage of the man matched yours as you held the tip of the blade to the ground in your palms. Ghost stepped forward and if the knelt man looked up, he would see the same kind of vile spite in the eyes of a direwolf as you held in your own. An odd sight for such a creature.

You had fought in a battle before, but this was new. You stood alone with this sword and your justice only to be given by you. You had stood by choices like this before, stood by Robb’s side before but now you did alone. And your racing nerves burned inside you. “If you have any last words, Ser Alliser. Speak them now.”

Only the wind was heard. Wind and the scraping as you used both hands to grasp the handle of the blade as he finally turned to you. A hiss in his voice as he held confidence in his actions that made you seethe. “He was a traitor, I should have tossed his corpse outside. Let you freeze to death next to the bastard who loved you so much.”

He never broke eye contact as you stared at him. Your hands screaming at you needing to shake from the strain as you looked into his eyes. You lay dying beside Robb Stark and the gods tore your deaths together from you. And now mocking you that Jon Snow died being betrayed just as his own brother did, and died even more alone then Robb had.

If you could have joined Robb, joined Jon, you would have. He deserved more then this. More then anything this world spat at him. All the Starks did. And in one blinding flash of anger as you recalled the feeling of the wound over his heart you swung it down in one go.

Valyrian steel Maege Mormont said it was. Heavy and sharp like no other blade and in one go, even at the weakness you held from almost a year of captivity, the steel of Longclaw was enough that it took his head in one swing. The faint words of a man as good as your father long gone, telling you if you are to kill a man as such, to look into a man’s eyes. And neither you nor him looked away until there was nothing left in his place.

The men were silent, and as you handed the sword to Theon you felt heavy in your heart. You looked up to the men, and knew one last point to be made before this was over. “There were twelve men involved in your Lord Commander’s murder. I know of two, both have confessed to their crimes and paid the price. Ten brothers among you either stood watching guard or shoved a knife into his chest themselves. Step forward of your own accord. Before I give your names to your brothers for you.”

None moved, and none said a word. If they had considered it, you decided it was too late as you opened your mouth to speak. “Bowen Marsh, Othell Yarwyck-” and in an instant eight other men stepped forward of their own accord, the innocent ones shoving forward the named men trying to cower in the back.

The other men of the Watch begun to circle around them, it made you sick to think Jon died not realizing that when it truly mattered more men were on his side then not and he may have never known it. Marsh and Yarwyck now shoved in front of you, as your eyes looked to the other eight.

“Many of you came here as criminals. They took you here, and your slate was wiped clean and given a new chance. Most of you took that chance and served with honour. These men acted out the same vile actions that sent them here in the first place, and murdered not just their leader, but a brother who fought beside them.”

The eyes above, watching you from both that of the free folk and the trio above were watching carefully. Ghost stepped forward of his own, coming to your side, as if sensing how much you needed someone. You had no choice now, it was your duty to carry this burden and you wouldn’t fail that but doing it like this wasn’t normal. You weren’t Robb, you certainly weren’t Stannis.

“Jon believed there were more important things beyond the wall then whatever rules he may have broken. He understood that we have greater enemies to fight then each other. I am not your leader, I am not one of you, but we are going to have to put that passed us if we are to survive what’s coming.”

Ghost didn’t move, but you could feel a rumble in his chest at your words. “Tomorrow we wipe that slate clean again, you came forward and the punishment of your own brothers knowing the atrocities you committed will be shameful enough.”

And as you stood in the remains of the day, most of the men understanding that tomorrow was to start fresh, you felt no relief in what had been done. Jon was still dead, and you still had one more thing to do before this horror of a day was to come to an end. At this rate, you hoped that end would come in consuming enough alcohol to kill a horse and sleep until the gods forced you back into the world.

In your fathers quarters, you looked over the work along his desk, and some of Jon’s own work you had Olly bring to you. You had no idea the state of things here at all and that days end looked further and further away the more into a headache you spun.

It was Tormund who came to see you first, looking around unimpressed and even moreso as he landed on the work on the desk. Sitting down in the chair he looked at you finally an expression slipping into curiously, “Didn’t think a pretty crow like you had that in you.”

Dropping the paper you leaned back in the seat with a sigh. “I wasn’t sure I did either. But it needed to be done so I did it.” You had paused, glancing up to him with a disturbed curiosity of your own. “I know it won’t take back what happened, or mean much coming from me, but I’m sorry for what my father did to Mance Rayder.” Tormund’s eyebrows rose in a suprise as you elaborated. “He didn’t deserve to die like that...no one deserves to die like that.”

Jon had given him the mercy ultimately, shot an arrow into his heart just as the fires begun to make Mance scream in pain. You weren’t sure if that would have infuriated your father, or secretly impressed him for the courage it took to so brazenly go against his law.

Inhaling deeply, he leaned forward arms laying across his knees. “Mean fucker, your old man.” It was such a weird thing to do, but you laughed. A genuine laugh that took both him and Theon quiet off to the side by total suprise.

“Try being raised by him. I’m shocked I have any social skills whatsoever.” Tormund chuckled himself, and even if he didn’t outloud, Theon felt it inside his chest. Was that ever true. Your first week getting to know the Greyjoy he was convinced you were a complete bitch and the Starks must be delusional to even remotely like you. It sure didn’t stay that way, clearly. He had a sister out there who just might want to know he’s alive, but the woman who felt more like a sister that Theon cared about the most, was the one sitting here in this very room.

Tormund’s voice was low and crackling, a slight amusement still trained in tone. “Got no reason to accept your apology. You didn’t burn him alive, pretty crow. Gave Thorne out there a nicer death then your father did Mance, bumps you up a few notches in my opinion.”

Your eyes glanced to the side of the desk with Jon’s own writings and you felt sick at the sight of it. “I’ve never had to do this alone. Leading like this.”

Looking up at him, you felt surprised that such a giant, thundering man could look so quiet in his expression. “He said you were married to his brother. Always wondered what you were like as a Queen and would get angry knowing he’d never get the chance. Almost sickening how much he loved you.”

There was no point in hiding it, he was dead and so was Robb. What was there to hide anymore but from your own pain? Theon could only try and connect dots he never knew existed before. “The thought of coming here, the one person here I never thought I’d see again, after everyone spent, what? A year thinking I was dead? Hell sometimes I thought I was, sure didn’t feel like a real person for a long time.”

Leaning forward a bit, Tormund grumbled, “Don’t think he quite felt like one either after you.” Hand gesturing to Ghost sitting beside you he commented, “Never seen him act quite like this before. Got wolves falling for you everywhere you go.”

A low growl left Ghost, only calmed as you narrowed your eyes and reached over running a hand over his fur. “Well, I’m not the only one who lost Jon. I don’t know if it’s because he recognizes me, or if he can somehow sense his own brother on me but..he needs someone who understands him. I suppose I just hope he doesn’t hate me for getting his owner killed.”

Ghost growled louder, nipping at your hand as he did so before settling as Theon spoke. “You killed the man who got him killed, had nothing to do with you.” You didn’t really believe that, first you failed Robb and now you got Jon killed what more damage could you possible have done. You didn’t even know why Jon still cared about you enough to try and come find you like that. Or if it was just out of a sense of obligation because you were his brothers widow.

Those soft days with him in Winterfell didn’t even feel real anymore, like it was a fantasy you dreamed up in your grief and maybe Jon hated you all along. Would that have made this easier or harder?

“We need to burn him.” Your eyes flickered back to Tormund’s in anger. “By nightfall he’ll have been there almost a day, only gets more dangerous the longer we wait. Things happen to the dead this far North.”

You had seen dreams of blue eyes and rising corpses around you. “We’re not burning him.” Tormund tried to speak but you grew louder. “I’m not burning him. I-”

Your head fell to your hands as your elbows rested up on the desk as you collected yourself, finally letting them drop flat against the desk once more. “I can’t bury Robb in Winterfell. I don’t know what they did with the rest of his body or if it still exists. He belongs there next to his father and I can’t do anything about it.” Your voice finally cracked, you barley spoke of it to Theon, until now. “I’m not doing the same to Jon. That’s his family, he belongs in his home. He belongs in Winterfell and I’m bringing him back.”

Ghost nudged your side but you didn’t take notice as Tormund warned, “If something happens-”

“Then I’ll deal with it myself. You said Jon killed some of those things with this,” Your hands reaching back to where Longclaw hung around your chair and bringing it to sit flat across the desk, running your fingers over the pommel. Just like Maege said, Jeor Mormont had it forged to look just like Ghost. “Something happens to him, I will deal with it myself but no one is burning him. I’m bringing him home where he belongs. I couldn’t do it for his brother, so let me at least do it now.”

Theon quietly called your name but you shook your head. Unable to look at either of them, he got the message thankfully. “Okay then, no one goes near him. Edd said the doors are locked to everyone but us right now, so we keep it that way.” You nodded without looking at him really.

You felt like a child for thinking it, but it wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. You inhaled deeply as you sat up straighter, “Is- are they all out there finally, Theon?”

He nodded, opening the door to let the group in, Olly seemed to have correctly thought safer to keep them waiting outside until you were ready. You had one more thing to do tonight and maybe this day could finally end. Maybe you could end with it.

Ser Davos walked in with your mother, and Lady Melisendre with them as Olly closed the door after you shook your head at Tormund’s silent ask if he should leave. Call if grief for losing a friend, but he found you curious, and had no qualms about sticking around to find out why he thought so.

Walking up to lean against the front of the desk, your arms crossed you looked at the floor before up to one individual. You needed the truth, the plain truth on this one. “Ser Davos, tell me what happened.”

It was awful. In the confusion of the letter and not knowing what happened yet to Jon, two people came to a conclusion of what to do. The letter now sat in your pocket, you knew what it said. King Stannis Baratheon had been claimed dead by Ramsay in battle, and with no word from him or his armies, what were they to believe but it’s words?

King’s blood she said. Only King’s blood can be used as a sacrifice to the Lord of Light, and only powerful blood could bring the King back. You had smelt the faint traces of smoke that morning but you didn’t know what it was, now you did and you were sick and angry and wanted to smash something until your hand bled.

There was only one with King’s Blood. Only one that you hadn’t seen in so long, one who didn’t even know you were alive and yet she was allowed to be dragged to a pyre. Your eyes rose up to your mothers, the sadness there evident as your voice whispered. “She was your daughter. You thought she was your only daughter left. Let’s say it worked, it brought him back do you really think he would be grateful you murdered his only living heir to do so?”

Stepping forward, the red woman tried to placate. “Princess, it was a necessary-”

“She’s not your princess. She’s your Queen.” Her eyes narrowed at Theon’s but you raised your hand to quiet both of them.

Looking over to Davos once more you could see the pain, you knew he loved Shireen like she was his own daughter, it was impossible not to she was just a bundle of joy that was so rare in this cursed family. “Your grace, this is not the first time such a thing has been done. Using the blood of your family for her dark magic claiming it was all in the name of this god. If burning a child isn’t evil to her, I don’t know what else she would be willing to sacrifice.”

She smiled at him and it made you as angry as it did Davos uncomfortable. “It is not evil, Ser Davos. I merely do what the lord bids me to do, he works through me I do not work in favour of him. The princess was given up as a sacrifice willingly-”

Something in your mother however, snapped. The slap was harsh and yet Melisendre did not reel from it. Just as her daughter begun to scream, she pleaded for it to stop. Convinced of the desperation only to the point where her actions had consequences. A running crime against the people you loved.

With no one in charge, the King gone and dead and non yet realizing Jon laid dead himself it took some chaos to get her down. But you hadn’t gone to see Shireen for a reason, Davos that morning when he came to see you finally had told you then. She was in a very bad place, and there was little that could be done but keep her asleep for her own good.

Looking to Olly, you had sent him much earlier to see in on the situation. It kept him away from the others and kept you in the loop. He shook his head, and your own hung as a lump formed in your throat.

“My dear, there is only one way to bring the King back to us. Only blood can be traded for life and the Lord knows he is needed here and not with the dead. Let me finish the ritual, let me do you a kindness and bring your father back to you.” You bit your tongue, and Ghost begun to growl as she tried stepping to you. “You’ve lost many you love today, but I can save your father as long as you let me-”

It was a strange set of seconds. Something in you burned so angry that you were about to reach out and hit her yourself until you restrained it, but in turn Ghost had tried to move forward with a snap of his teeth. Only kept back by you reaching out to grasp the fur along his back. The direwolf standing back to look at you as if asking why.

You could see the distress finally hit your mother again, the distress you hadn’t seen last night.

“You can’t, please it was a mistake, I tried to stop her.” Pleading your name you hated that you knew Shireen would call it in the same way during scared storms in the middle of the night. “We find someone else, don’t let her do this-”

“There is no one else, unless the Queen is to give her own life up.” Melisendre eyed Ghost with disdain as she spoke. “However I’m not inclined to think the wolf will allow it.” Arguing ensued between the three of them. Theon and Olly watching it unfold, and Tormund knowing already what you were doing to have to do.

He’d seen the burning, it wasn’t something any could endure and survive. Shocked the little princess managed to hold out as long as she had, kept under deep sleep the pain so great. You looked down to Ghost, then up to Tormund in the fight between the two women and Davos. “How long will it take to build a small fire just north of the wall?”

His voice as quiet as yours, “Not long. We stay by the gate and we can keep it going long as you need, right?” Looking down with an almost amused raise of an eyebrow to Ghost.

“Lady Melisendre,” Your voice was loud and commanding, shutting down each of their arguments in the overpowering tone. “You are to stay away from my mother. From me, and all of us. Olly, escort the lady to her room and ensure she stays there for the night.”

Opening the door, he waited a second before walking over to her himself. You stared at her as she did you, first her vile lies about Robb and now she left your sister to die in agony. You wouldn’t look at her a second longer, but she left with no more argument.

“Ser Davos, go with my mother. Tormund and Theon find Edd and wait for me just outside the gate. If it must be done. I will do it myself.”

Theon met your eyes, and he knew this was going to take longer then anyone expected. The final strike of the day, the only person you had left that you truly loved, you had to end her pain yourself, and after that what did you really have? To you, this was the cost of your sins coming back tenfold to show you how cursed you were to live the remainder of your life.

He knew the look in your eye, and as you walked passed all of them. None followed.

The path to the Maesters quarters was quiet, little movement in the now dark skies above Castle Black as the few who you passed said nothing. The far look in your eye was all that needed to be said at this point. It didn’t occur to you at all, but for the first time that day Ghost did not follow you. Instead his path went down stairs to a darkness that held a secret the direwolf had no true way of explaining in this state.

The one watching her left almost as soon as you walked in. Your footsteps slow as you approached the figure in the sheets. Sitting on the bed next to her you reached up to run a hand over her face. You barley recognized her. They had kept her asleep because the scarring across her body would kill her from the shock. You didn’t even see your baby sister in the burns.

You had been atop your horse on Dragonstone the last time you saw her, having run over to you once more to give you a tight hug before she stood on the cliff watching you go. You had promised her that the next time you saw her, you’d take her underground to see the beauty of the reds and purples and greens of the deepest Dragonglass.

Tears fell freely this time, she didn’t even know you were alive and she’d be gone before you could ever tell her how much you loved her. Running along the greyscale on her face you remembered the day you got to hold her finally.

She would always tug at your hair yanking it to rest her little forehead against yours and you both adored the physical contact. She was only a baby, she didn’t remember or understand it but the cracked skin along her face told the story enough. She was beautiful regardless of what any said.

Pulling a dagger from your side, you felt shaken, choking on the inside as you ran your hand once more over her. The tears were heavy and your breathing was laboured. The Lord of Light demanded a burning but he would never take her alive, not like this, not again. She didn’t deserve that.

Neither people deserved their deaths on this day. And both were your fault in some way.

But as you pulled the dagger up, you pulled her hair back and put it at the back of her neck. You refused to let her die in anymore pain, draw it out anymore and do her the kindness of not running through her front. As you sat there, your stomach burned. Burning where you had been stabbed over and over that night and you had no way of knowing it’s truth.

But finally, as the only sound other then the crackling of the fire ran through the air and put an end to Shireen’s suffering, your eyes closed this time, as it was too much for even you to bare. Laying next to the curious state of a white direwolf though, in that same moment in the faint firelight of the ice cells?

A pair of grey eyes opened slowly in the silence.

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