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#tags r totally off topic

lizzieisright · 5 months

Text

She looks like fun

dom!reader x sub!Abby

Summary: During the patrol you find a pretty pleated skirt. In Abby's size.

Tags: okay, here we go fingering, oral, strap usage, strap sucking, Abby wears a skirt and a collar for sexy purposes, scene negotiation, safewords (traffic lights), aftercare, Abby and R are switches.

wc: 6.5k (it's a huge bitch, but 1.5k is a sfw part in the beginning)

a/n: listen I love when girls wear short pleated skirts, and Abby is not an exception.

MINORS DON'T INTERACT I'll hunt you for sport

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It’s rare to find something worthy when you’re out on the patrol, and you try to contain your disappointment every time - mostly because you hate losing and you and Abby have a rivalry going on who can bring more cool shit for the other. It’s romantic and sappy and also it drives you both crazy since you’re competitive. (people said hate sex was hot - have you tried sex after your super competitive partner loses to you? The best thing ever). So usually you won’t be happy at the end of your patrol.

But today you manage to get into a store that hasn’t been raided yet, so you start taking everything you see - people need clothes all the time, and it’s valuable. You put a mark on your map so others can go there later to take the rest and you go to women’s section, not feeling optimistic: the fabric is worse, the sizes are fucked, and even if you find something nice it tends to not last long.

But then you see it.

On the rack next to jeans there’s a rack with skirts - and why the fuck you’d stop to look at them? - but the skirts are pleated skirts. Short pleated skirts that cover ass just enough to be socially acceptable.

You can’t stop looking at them - you’ve seen before how nice they flow and how absolutely delicious girls look in them.

But it’s so not Abby’s style.

But she’ll look so good in one of these skirts.

She will probably tell you to go fuck yourself if you show it to her.

You pack it in your backpack anyway.

“Found something?” Abby asks as she comes inside the shop. “Oh wow. This is nice.”

“Choose whatever you want, my treat.” You say with a cocky smirk and Abby rolls her eyes.

“It doesn’t count.”

“You’re being unfair.” You whine as Abby makes her way to you.

“No, I’m not.” Abby murmurs. “This store is a public service, where is your personal touch?”

“You’ll talk shit just to keep your score, huh?” You smirk and Abby gives you a peck on your lips before diving into the racks to find something for herself.

The skirt gets a buddy in the form of a tight cropped white t-shirt and you don’t tell Abby about it.

The week passes and you still don��t talk about that damn skirt even though you can’t stop thinking about Abby wearing it: how it would hug her round butt and how her thick thighs would be so shamelessly out for you. You think about how cute she’d look walking around your shared space, the skirt bouncing and almost showing you everything. You think about the possibility of Abby not wearing any underwear under it, and how hot it would be to lift the skirt up and touch her and make her moan. You think about Abby all sprawled out with your head under that skirt, making a mess out of it.

Abby is not an idiot, so she notices the change in your mood for the last few days. She knows something is on your mind, so she catches you off guard, with her fingers buried deep inside you.

“Come on baby, tell me what’s been bothering you.” Abby murmurs into your ear while her fingers relentlessly hit the spot that makes you see stars.

“Shit- what?” You ask, totally lost in your pleasure.

“You’re keeping something from me. So share.” Abby kisses your neck and you try really hard not to cum, but your thighs start to shake.

“Fuck- the fucking skirt-”

And you see Abby in that skirt, all cute and shy, and you spasm around real Abby’s fingers, cumming with a groan. Abby is too distracted with watching you go through your orgasm, still fucking you, and you both forget about the topic.

Until you’re calmed down and Abby is satisfied with how fucked out you are. Then she remembers.

“Skirt?”

Shit, you think. Now you’ll have to explain it to Abby who definitely will tell you to fuck off.

“I took a skirt from that store we found. It’s a pleated skirt, a cute one.”

“So? You want to wear it?”

“I want you to wear it.”

Abby is silent, and you expect it, so you already drop the subject in your head, letting it go. But Abby is not letting it go.

“You want me to wear a skirt?”

“If you want to, obviously. I think you'll be so hot in it. But I know it’s not your style.”

“It’s really not.” Abby chuckles. “So that’s why you’ve been so spacey lately? Thinking about me in a skirt?”

“Yeah. Can’t stop thinking about your pretty butt in it.” You kiss Abby’s neck and flip her on her back. “You’d look so cute.” You kiss Abby’s abs as you make your way down. “I’d run my hands under your pretty little skirt and you’ll just take it like a good girl, yeah?”

This shift is always beautiful: she just fucked your brains out, but a couple of words and your head between her legs makes Abby go pliant and soft, her big blue eyes giving you a Bambi.

“Holy fuck.” Abby sighs and you smile into her pussy. “I’ll wear it for you.”

The hungry monster inside you roars and claws at your chest.

Abby walks funny the next day.

You don’t actually expect Abby to wear it - after all, what is said under horny subby fog can’t be held accountable. Abby is really not a girly girl - fuck, it’d be easier to make you wear a skirt (after getting shot and stabbed repeatedly, mind you), and you understand that Abby might not be comfortable with this idea.

But you leave the skirt and the t-shirt on the bed one day to give her the choice. When you come back, it's gone.

Next time the skirt topic comes up when you're taking a bath together - a rare luxury, so you enjoy every second of feeling Abby's warm skin against yours.

"Do you still want me to wear a skirt?" If you were relaxed a second ago, now you're suddenly alert.

"Only if you want it too." You kiss her shoulder.

"And if I wear it..?" Abby gives you space to finish the phrase for her.

"I'll fuck you on every surface in this apartment." Abby laughs, but you know what she wants to know. "Yeah, I want it to be a scene." You take a second. "Do you want me to plan it?"

"Yeah."

You freeze for a second, not really believing your luck - Abby doesn't ask for a scene plan unless she wants to do it, and right now it means she will wear a skirt for you.

"Fuck baby, you're going to wear it for me?" You ask excitedly, squeezing her in your arms. "With a t-shirt too?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't let it get into your head."

"We have a few free days next week, right? Is it okay?"

"Yes, you horndog." Abby laughs and you bite her gently.

So you spend the next days planning what you would do with Abby, writing a short list of kinks so she could veto whatever she doesn't want to happen or add something she wants to happen (the ropes last time? Her idea). She still won't know in which order everything will happen or where exactly, or even when in some cases, to save the magic of the moment, but in order to feel safe with each other, you write your lists every time, unless you both get spontaneously in the mood and have to negotiate on the fly.

You pass your list to Abby and as she reads it, her face warms up in a pretty red colour, just like apples in the garden.

"Okay." Abby smiles at you. "This sounds good. But I pulled my shoulder today, so I won't be able to get on my hands and knees."

"Fuck, I'll give a massage later." You say, worried. "Okay, that's fine, no doggy."

"We can do that one, when you push the pillow under me?"

You swallow in horny, the pictures flying through your head, as you scribble it down on your list.

"Fuck yes. Are you going to be fine like this? You still put your arms up."

"It's not that bad." Abby shrugs. "I want to add something."

You nod eagerly, always ready to give Abby whatever she wants. Abby walks away to go through her backpack and comes back to you, giving you a piece of small leather belt. It's too small for any human, and just as your brain starts to catch up, Abby drops the bomb on you.

"Collar me."

You blink a few times, not believing your ears.

"I'll fucking destroy you, Abs." You say, your voice low and dark.

You had this talk before, and Abby was honestly weirded out by the ritual of collaring, so you decided not to add it, especially since you weren't in a 24/7 dynamic and not in fixed roles either. And you know Abby doesn't mean putting this collar as the collar, but it is still so hot. The whole thing is not done by the book or by rules, but you really don't care: whatever Abby wants, Abby gets.

"I will want to tug on it." You tell her, honestly, and Abby thinks for a second.

"Yeah, okay. Traffic lights, then."

You nod and add "collaring" in your messy handwriting.

You know Abby will wear this skirt, it's not a surprise, but you're still not prepared when you walk into the kitchen.

Abby is standing there, and you trail her bare legs up until you see the edge of the skirt and holy fuck. Holy fuck she looks good in it, her trained perky ass making the folds of the skirt to look especially delicious. You lick your lips as your fingers twitch, because you want to lift it already and get a look at her pretty little pussy.

And your eyes go up and you see this tight t-shirt that shows all the muscles in Abby's back and shoulders and you want to bite her and mark her.

"Wow, princess." You sigh and make your way to her, squeezing her waist. Abby jumps, surprised, but relaxes against you. "You look so fucking pretty."

"Thank you."

"Give me a twirl, will you?" You step away to give her space.

Abby is clearly embarrassed, but she does the cutest twirl in the world and yes, you can see her ass. And she is not wearing underwear, just as you told her.

"Beautiful." You murmur and run your hand up her thigh, lifting the skirt just a little. "You wanna watch something? I brought this from the library."

You show her the dvd and Abby is still tethered to reality, so she reads the summary carefully.

"Sounds okay. Not like the last time."

"Fuck you, baby." You pinch her side in revenge. "Let's go."

It seems so normal. It seems like any other day off, you and Abby sitting on the couch, but even as you pretend to watch the movie, you see how twitchy Abby is getting.

She plays with the ham of her skirt and it's so fucking cute - but then she smooths the fabric and you feel like you're going to explode: Abby enjoys wearing it. Abby likes it in a way that a girl who was forced to grow up in a horrible fucking world would enjoy doing normal girly things.

Maybe Abby is not not so girly after all.

Your heart feels tender right now and you can't help but to put your hand on her thigh, drawing little circles on her sensitive skin.

"Do you like it?"

"A little predictable, but still better." Abby shrugs and squeaks when you squeeze her thigh. "Yeah." She is shy now. "I feel pretty."

"You are pretty, princess." You whisper in her ear, making her shudder.

But you don't do anything else. You keep watching the movie, caressing Abby's thigh and pretend not to notice the change in her breathing. Then Abby starts shifting a little and you look down to see her nipples perked up. The fabric is rubbing against her sensitive skin and you just wait, because in a minute you feel how Abby tries to press her thighs together, thinking she is sneaky.

You chuckle and move your hand under the skirt, slowly parting her folds. Abby tries to keep her whimper to herself, but you feel how wet she is.

"What's got you so worked up, pretty girl?" You ask innocently while you brush your thumb over Abby's clit.

"Nothing." Abby breathes out and you chuckle.

"Really?" You wonder and pick up the speed, flicking Abby's clit until she presses her thighs together.

It's such a pretty sight: your hand under Abby's skirt, squeezed by her warm thighs, her knees pressed together. Abby is biting her lip and you watch her while your fingers tease her relentlessly. She looks desperate and helpless, and you live for it.

"Were you thinking exactly about this? How good I will make you feel under your pretty skirt?" You gently bite Abby's neck and she joists. "But we are watching a movie, princess, and I'm really interested in it. So you will give a narration while I play with your pretty pussy." You can't give less fucks about this movie, but making life harder for Abby is your favourite game.

"Yes, ma'am." Abby is not fully in the subspace yet, so she feels a little shy, but she crumbles completely when your eyes meet.

You slide down to the floor and make Abby put her feet by her sides for better access. The skirt falls between her legs and covers her cunt, and you lean back to look at her. Abby is blushing and frowning in desperation, her nipples are perking through the t-shirt and her plushy thighs are open so shamelessly for you.

"You stop talking, I stop touching you." You warn Abby and she nods. "Now lift your shirt up."

Abby does as she told and now this is a sight, her small tits squeezed by the t-shirt, her abs flexing as she breathes deeply. Abby already looks ruined and you haven't done anything yet.

"What is happening there?" You ask routinely and lift Abby's skirt up, revealing her soaked little cunt. You spread her lips open and circle her clit with your thumb.

"She is- she is at work again." Abby sighs and you hum, encouraging her. "She is talking to the cigarette selling woman." It sounds like Abby is relieved when she finishes her line and you laugh to yourself: your poor baby is trying to be good for you.

You leave her clit alone and push two fingers in slowly, watching her body react to you as beautiful as always. Abby freezes and instead of watching the movie, watches your fingers disappear in her.

"I'll take them out." You threaten and Abby snaps back into watching.

"There's this creepy guy," Abby swallows hard when you start slowly pumping your fingers in and out. "And she has an idea- fuck." You just curled your fingers and Abby stops watching again, but quickly opens her eyes.

"What's the idea?"

"She wants the sell- ah, fuck - selling lady and the- the-" You pick up the speed of your fingers and Abby clutches to your shoulders. You reach with your free hand and pinch her nipple, and Abby twitches in response, her pussy clenches on you. "Fuck, it feels so good, ma'am."

"And I'm yet to hear about her idea." You say with a hint of a threat, but your thrusts only get rougher.

"She is playing matchmaker, ohmygod!" Abby whimpers and in reward you lick the long strip from your fingers buried in her pussy to her neglected clit. You suck on it and Abby lets out a shriek as her knees are closing up above your head. "Fuck, oh god- I can't-"

You keep sucking on her clit until she is shaking and moaning, but then you move away and take out your fingers.

"Is she still playing matchmaker?" You ask sternly. Abby blinks and checks the screen.

"No."

"That's what I fucking thought." You knead Abby's thighs a little painfully and keep her legs open for you. "Keep talking, princess."

Abby nods feverishly and swallows. Such a pretty fucking sight, you think as you look up to her: Abby's mouth is open and she really tries so hard to watch this stupid movie, but you push your fingers inside again and all her efforts go to waste as she twitches and blinks very fast in a attempt to not close her eyes.

"She is telling the selling lady that the creepy g- fuck-" Abby sobs when you put your mouth back on her. You play with her clit and suck on it again, making Abby buck her hips into your face. "The- the creepy guy is in- ma'am! - is in love with her!"

You push Abby's legs together and up, almost folding her in half and push your tongue alongside your fingers, getting drunk on her taste. Abby is a smart girl, so she holds herself under her knees to help you and moans when she feels your tongue and your fingers inside. Abby always tastes and feels like heaven, and you never want to leave her pussy alone.

"Ma'am I'm gonna cum." Abby whimpers and you get rough, every push of your fingers is moving Abby's whole body with the sheer force of it, because Abby is not behaving.

"Is her idea working?" You suck on her clit again and Abby whines and sobs while forcing herself to look at the screen.

"Y-yes!" Abby shouts and cums on your fingers, sucking them in on every spasm. You pick up the pace and Abby tries to fight you off, but you slap her hand away and fuck her through her orgasm until her thighs are shaking uncontrollably. Abby is whimpering on every exhale, her abs are twitching, and you smile wolfishly.

"You did so good, princess." You let Abby's legs go gently and fix her skirt, smoothing the fabric. Abby looks at you with pleading eyes and your heart swells, so you straighten up and kiss her slowly and delicately. Abby relaxes and caresses your neck, chasing your mouth, and you can’t help yourself as you pinch her nipples playfully.

“You want your collar?” You ask softly and Abby nods eagerly. “Show me how good your throat is first.”

Bratty Abby is fun, and you like the back and forth of it, but good girl Abby makes you feral: you just told her what you want and she is already opening her mouth for you, sticking her tongue out.

“Good fucking girl.” You growl and push your fingers down her throat.

You fuck Abby’s throat until she is gurgling and her eyes roll back into her skull: you know she likes it, likes to relax her throat and let you use her as you wish. Abby is not even gagging now, so used to it, but you can feel how her throat clenches on you sometimes. Abby looks so cute like this, her tits out, her eyes closed and her thighs pressed together under the skirt as it spreads so prettily around her hips.

“Beautiful.” You murmur and clean up her spit from her chin. Abby smiles at you, clearly pleased from praise, and you kiss her again as a reward. Abby likes kisses, especially if she is needy, as if it keeps her tethered to you. "Show me your neck, princess."

Abby straightens up and proudly shows you her neck - she is so cute you can't help your giggle. You take out the small belt and Abby looks at you with wide eyes as if you’re her god.

"Mine." You tell her when you tighten the collar around her neck. "You're mine."

"Yours, ma'am." Abby answers in a small voice and you see how any rational thought leaves Abby’s head as her eyes get cloudy. "Can I touch it, ma'am?"

"Go ahead." You nod and watch her strong fingers that leave bruises on your thighs brush over the leather with such care. "We're not done, princess."

Abby nods and you tug on her collar until she stands up on her shaking legs and follows you to the bedroom. There's enough space for your fingers to fit in under the collar, but you're still careful with it: it's a new thing and you don't want to hurt Abby in a way she doesn't want to be hurt.

You lead Abby to the bed, but instead of getting her to lie down, you sit on the bed and tug on her collar to get her down on her knees. Abby slowly sits on her thighs and fixes the skirt again, and you just can't. She is so fucking cute in it, and you can see the curve of her hips in the mirror, her waist looks tiny and the dips along her spine are so fucking hot.

You caress Abby's cheekbone with your thumb, adoring her, and she blooms. Abby likes subbing because she's loved so fully at her weakest and most vulnerable like she's never been before - she's literally on her knees, with a collar around her neck and in a skirt and you look at her like she is divine.

"Is your throat good enough for my cock too, princess?" You ask with a teasing smirk, palming your strap through the fabric of your pants.

"Yes ma'am. I'll be so good for you." Abby pleads and grabs at your thighs before she remembers herself.

"Too eager for your own good, huh?" You weave your fingers through her hair at the back, right under the braid, holding her head up. "Come on, get to work."

Abby tugs your pants down and you can see in the mirror how she presses her thighs together when she sees your strap, and that won't do.

"Spread your legs and arch your back, I wanna see how wet you're gonna get."

Abby does exactly as she is told, even lifting herself up a little so she could reach your lap, and you see her skirt covering everything. It's a downside, but Abby is smart, so she pushes the skirt to the front just enough for it to go up and your grip in her hair tightens from how sexy she looks. The edge of the skirt is now reaching to the middle of her ass and you see her wet pussy glisten; the contrast of her waist to hips ratio makes her ass look even better, and you feel like you're gonna cum just from watching Abby getting wet.

"Fucking beautiful." You growl and Abby even shakes her ass a little to make it jiggle. "Focus, princess." You tell her sternly, and Abby arches into you even more.

You tug Abby's head back and she opens her mouth automatically, so you push your cock inside just a little - Abby wraps her lips around the head and you let go of her hair, letting her run the show and have fun. Abby leaves wet open mouthed kisses along the length of your strap and you hum in approval, petting her head. She is blushing and her freckles look so pretty on her pink cheeks, her eyelashes flatter when she closes her eyes and licks the whole length of your strap. The movements cause the harness to move against your clit and your breathing gets heavier - you didn't expect it to happen, you must've put the harness in a different way - and Abby notices how tense are your thighs under her hands. She makes eye contact with you to check in, and you smile at her.

"You're doing so good princess, you might make me cum if you keep it up."

Abby whimpers when she hears it - it's very rare for you to even allow her to touch you when you dom her, let alone make you cum, but Abby wants to. She always wants to please you in any way she's allowed to.

"Please let me make you cum, ma'am." Abby begs, looking at you with her big doe eyes.

"You can try, princess." You chuckle, not very sure that she can, but Abby seems determined.

Abby lifts up a little again and lowers her head on your cock, taking as much as she can while she still can breathe, and when she comes back up, the harness grinds against your clit, making you hiss. Abby wiggles in excitement and starts to bob her head up and down, getting dizzy from hearing your panting and hissing above her.

"Just like that, babygirl." You pant and put your hand on Abby's head, slightly pushing the strap deeper. "You can take it, right?" You coo and Abby moans in agreement. "Good girl. Relax for me."

You hold Abby's head by her braid and push your strap deeper and deeper while Abby's eyes roll back into her skull. There is something so comforting about having her throat stuffed Abby can't help herself but to go absolutely slack while you fuck her throat, grunting and panting as your own pleasure builds up.

"Ride your fingers, princess, I know you want to."

Fucking hell, you think as you watch Abby pump her fingers in and out in the mirror, her thighs and ass look so delicious with the skirt on. Abby moans and whimpers as you fuck her throat and she fucks herself, and you know you're not going to last long.

Your grip tightens in her hair and Abby whimpers, and you can see in the mirror how rough she is being with herself, desperate to cum.

"Fuck-" You whimper and buck your hips up to get more friction and the same time as Abby swallows you down, and the pressure ticks you off right away.

Your thighs shake and your hips buck, chasing the aftershocks of your orgasm while Abby watches you with wide eyes, her own fingers forgotten. She is not even breathing, absolutely mesmerised by your reactions - she made you cum, she made you cum without even touching you.

You pant, still twitching from your orgasm, but you find the strength to move Abby away from the strap despite her whining.

"Come here." You tug on her collar again to make her move and Abby straddles you. "Holy fuck." You whisper when you look at her. "My best girl." You kiss Abby's shoulder and she giggles.

"Thank you, ma'am."

You smile at her and then lie down on the bed, tugging on Abby's hips so she would move. Abby is bright red - for some reason she is still so shy when you make her sit on your face - but she moves up, until her thighs are by the sides of your face. Abby can't even look at you, her eyelashes casting shadows on her cheeks.

“Look at me.” You tell her and Abby steals a glance at you, which is not what you wanted. “I said look at me.”

And Abby looks, tries her hardest to maintain eye contact with you as you push her down on your face, burying yourself in her soaked pussy.

Abby whines when you suck on her sensitive clit since she's been close after fucking herself earlier. You don't waste any time and eat her out messily, getting her wetness all over your face as you devour her, fucking her with your tongue, rubbing and sucking her clit, while Abby writhes on top of you.

“Oh god-” She sobs and you grab a handful of her hips, pulling her skirt up so you can see her. “I'm gonna-”

And that is exactly your cue to stop, leaving Abby panting and whimpering on top of you. You watch her pretty clit throb from being so close to orgasm and smirk.

Abby is confused and there's a tiniest hint of hurt on her face: she did such a good job and you are not letting her cum?

You chuckle and signal her to move.

“Lie down on your stomach.” You tell her and while Abby does as she is told, you fix your harness and grab a pillow to put it under Abby's hips.

Seeing Abby's fat thighs pressed together with her wet glistening hole between them makes you want to ruin her. The sight of your strong, dangerous girlfriend all shy and pretty and in this damn skirt makes you froth at your mouth like a fucking dog. Abby makes you feel like the most unhinged obsessed creep and the way she welcomes your dark side - as you think of it - is why you would die for her at any moment.

You can't help the possessive bite you leave on her neck, practically growling into her ear.

“You're mine.” You tell her and Abby nods, shows her neck with a collar on it.

“Yours.” She whispers and bucks her hips into you, presenting herself for you.

You line your strap up and push inside, feeling how tight Abby is from being so close to an orgasm.

“It's a pity you can't see yourself, princess.” You tell her as you watch the head of your strap slowly disappear in her hole. “You're close, aren't you?”

“Please, ma'am.” Abby whimpers and you part her ass cheeks to give yourself a show.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.” Abby says and you smile.

“You can do better than that.”

You're not usually the “beg me” type, but now you want Abby to be desperate. You keep pushing extremely slowly, teasing Abby and moving away when she bucks her hips.

“Please, I need you.” Abby starts shyly and oh, what a great idea it is. “Ma'am, I need you, please fuck me, only you can make me feel good, please-”

You push all the way in in one go and Abby moans loudly.

“Good fucking girl.” You growl and pick a hard pace right away, slamming into Abby so hard her ass jiggles. Abby sobs and her back tenses: she feels you so deep and she is so tight in this position, and she is so fucking close. You knead her ass through the skirt and just watch your strap disappear in Abby, fucking her mercilessly.

“Ma’am-” Abby whimpers and holds the pillow under her head for dear life, trying to hold off her orgasm. “Can I-” Abby doesn't get to finish her sentence as your next thrust knocks the air out of her.

“Cum, babygirl.” You tell her gently while you thrust into Abby's tight little pussy with force, grabbing her hips for stability.

Abby coils and lifts her ass as her orgasm rips through her body like an electric shock, and you chuckle, satisfied, your movements slowing down. You're not stopping, still moving inside her, and Abby squeezes her thighs together under you, whimpering.

“Relax, princess, and let me have you.” You murmur into her ear and continue fucking her slowly, watching your strap come out of her covered in her cum.

Abby genuinely tries to relax, but she is sensitive right now and your cock drags along her walls so slowly it drives her crazy. She likes feeling so stuffed, so full of you, but now she wants to cum again.

“Ma'am, please go faster.” Abby asks you and you chuckle.

“You're so impatient.” You tsk and slap her ass cheek lightly, watching it jiggle. “You're gonna cum like this or not at all, understood?”

“Yes ma'am.” Abby says, humbled, but her voice breaks in a moan when you push inside to the hilt. “Fuck.”

You smile and pull out just to push back and Abby clutches to the pillow, her whole body feels like she is on fire. You don't make it easier as your lips travel over her sensitive back, every touch of your hot tongue makes her tighten around your strap and moan pathetically.

Abby is so close and so, so fucking far away from her orgasm and you know it, so you continue thrusting into her slowly until Abby starts to squirm and misbehave as she pushes back, chasing your strap.

“Stop it.” You tell her sternly and push her lower back into the bed to stop her from moving.

“Ma'am, please!” Abby whines.

You tug on her collar quite roughly and press your lips to her ear.

“Such a brat.” You growl and slam into Abby roughly, making her squeal. “Turn on your side.”

And that's how Abby ends up being fucked roughly from behind while you squeeze her throat and play with her clit relentlessly, bringing her to the edge immediately. Your pelvis hits her ass at every thrust and Abby whines and whimpers, her eyes rolled back, her head absolutely empty. Abby feels like she doesn’t exist anymore, only your hands and your voice and your cock do - and she feels so fucking good.

“Ma’am-” Abby moans frantically. “It feels so good, you feel so good, thankyouthankyouthankyou” Is all you can hear between Abby’s sobs. You smile darkly and fuck her harder until she shrieks and cums again.

But you don’t stop. You keep fucking Abby through her orgasm, you keep fucking her when she whines from being too sensitive, you keep fucking her even when she tries to move your hand away from her clit.

“Ma’am, it’s too much- I can’t-”

“You can take it.” You pant into her ear. “You wanted to cum so much before, so keep cumming.”

And Abby does, with another sob. She cums again, and again, until it becomes too much for real, and her face is wet with tears. She feels like overstimulation now hurts more than pleases, and maybe you’re right, she has another one in her, but Abby feels exhausted.

“Yellow.” Abby sniffles, and you stop moving right away, carefully letting go of her tit, but not removing the strap yet in case it will hurt Abby.

“Too much?” You ask her gently and Abby nods. “Does something hurt?” You ask her with such care in your voice Abby wants to cry, because she feels like she could’ve gone longer and now she’s disappointed you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Abby sniffles, and you get more alert than ever.

“Abby? Can I hug you?” Abby nods and you carefully wrap your arms around her and bury your face in her neck. “Talk to me, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Did I say something?”

“No- It’s just- It started to hurt and I’m tired- fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Baby, why are you saying sorry? It’s okay, you did good by using the safeword.”

“I just feel like I could go longer, I should not have stopped you.” Abby admits and sniffles again, ashamed - her emotions skyrocket in subspace.

“I don’t want you to push your limits to please me. How about we stop now, get clean and then cuddle and talk, if you want? How does it sound?”

“We can continue, I just need a moment.” Abby pleads as her guilt grows.

“I don't think we should, sweets.” That pet name makes Abby squeeze her eyes: you only use it when she is not allowed to argue. “It's okay. You're okay. You didn't do anything wrong.” You kiss her shoulder and Abby's head gets a little clearer. “Thank you for telling me, you did so well.”

This makes Abby feel a little better; she nods and squeezes your hand in return. You carefully remove the strap while Abby winces and then you help her get up and go to the bathroom, to shower.

You take her clothes and collar off, and Abby doesn’t look at you, still beating herself up, but you won’t have it. So when you two get into the shower and water starts to wash the sweat and cum off both of you, you take her face in your hands and kiss her cheeks, her nose, her eyes and forehead, everywhere really. Just small gentle kisses, until Abby smiles and looks at you bashfully.

“You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” You tell her honestly and Abby blushes, but her mood seems to go up.

You wash both of you gently, carefully going over Abby’s crotch, and she relaxes under your arms. You dry both of you after and help Abby change into her pjs. She gets under the blankets and you kiss her forehead before going to the kitchen and getting some food for both of you.

When you return with two plates and a big cup, Abby looks sleepily at you, seemingly calm. But you know her, you know how guilt can eat her alive, so you keep being alert.

“Drink this first.” You give Abby warm water with honey and she drinks it, scrunching her nose from the sweetness of it. Then you eat in comfortable silence, both noticing with surprise how hungry you were - which should not be a surprise by now, really. You finish your food and clean up so you can cuddle Abby and sooth her. Abby gets on top of you and you caress her hair and shoulders absentmindedly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Abby sounds more sober now too. “I just-” She huffs, annoyed at herself. “I dunno how to explain. I could've gone longer.”

“I don't want to hurt you. Not in a way you don't enjoy.” You remind her. Abby loves you so much she is scared to fuck everything up, and it led to some problems before, when she put your needs above hers. You talked about it, but sometimes, especially if Abby subs, she slips and does it again. This is exactly why you have a “sweets” rule: to stop her before she hurts both of you with her sacrifices.

“I just feel like I'm..weak.” Abby admits and you chuckle.

“You're not. You're a grownup who can tell their limits, and I'm so happy you did.” You say kindly. “I trust you. You were so good for me today, including using the safeword.” You kiss the top of Abby's head and she hugs you tighter. “I'm sorry I didn't check in with you.”

Abby nods and looks up to you.

“We both agreed to this, right? We literally fucked around and found out.” You chuckle and reach out to grab the honey water for Abby.

“I know you hate it, but your throat needs it.”

Abby groans and drinks it, absolutely despising the honey: this is the only drawback of getting her throat fucked.

“Did you like the skirt?” Abby asks playfully.

“Yes. You looked so good in it, god. I got a little crazy.” You kiss her honey lips and Abby smiles into your mouth.

“Well, next time it's your turn.” She says seriously and you laugh.

“If you promise to not rip it apart.”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut #sub!abby #abby anderson #abby tlou #this is my coping mechanism

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fandomwave · 4 months

Text

"No Guys I Swear You Have To Go Out Of Your Way To Find It!" And why I don't love this take

This is about the Ha Ha funny Coffin Game which includes but isn't limited to topics of: Cannibalism, Murder, and the core topic of this little rant, Incest.

feel totally free to skip this if that's a hard pass from you! No shame in knowing what you're about including things you'd rather not engage with.

"I know what I'm about"

Good! So this entire little rant? Vent? Observation? Comes from the recent uptick I've seen of posts in the Tcoaal tag where people come in to defend the game with more or less this argument:

"No no guys the incest is really easy to avoid. You have to go out of your way to find it. The game even WARNS you that this is a bad route. Its nowhere in any part of the game beyond this. Honestly it's just not there actually"

And I get the want to defend the game as being more than 'The funny Incest Game'. I agree that The Coffin Of Andy and Leyley is WAY MORE than just the funny incest game. To reduce the game down to that would be a disservice to the writing that went into this game. Andrew and Ashley deserve way more and Numlie themselves deserves better credit than that.

h o w e v e r

However, I think it's also doing more harm than good to try and sweep their dynamic under the rug as something that is 'easily avoidable' and 'totally optional' I hate to break the news but Andrew's romantic inclinations towards Ashley are pretty obvious in Chapter 1. They certainly aren't as obvious as they are in Chapter 2, I'll give everyone that. But they are there, and to act like they aren't... Not to mention the defense EVERYONE gives so readily is that 'The Game Warns You This Is A Bad Thing To Do' is a lot more complicated than it might appear on first blush. First and foremost the 'narrator' is the one to say: "Somehow it seems like a highly questionable idea to take this route"

which imho is a far cry from "This is the bad end" "This has incest" "you are probably a bad person for taking this ending" that some seem to argue is the 'warning' you get. Secondly we should remember it isn't 'you' the narrator is talking to here. Effectively it's still Ashley first and foremost. When Ashley responds 'I know what I'm about' that is also the game showing us that Ashley knows what this means and still wants it.

Enthusiastic consent if you will

So what's the point to this little post eh?

Well I think it's doing a little more harm than good to both the story but also anyone interested in checking the game out who might actually be genuinely triggered by such topics. Tcoaal has the siblings romantic inclinations laced into the story from point A to B. It's impossible to avoid actually. You can go the entire game ignoring any acts of kindness towards Andrew as Ashley or Ashley as Andrew, and you'll always get the scenes of Andrew playing with Ashley's hair. You will always get the text informing the player that Andrew fakes panic attacks to share a bed with Ashley. You will always get the CG of Andrew's hand in Ashley's belt loops. You will always hear the voicemail 'You think you're better than me because you can fuck him and I can't' from Ashley concerning Andrew. You will always get the hints from Mrs Graves that she knows they are too close but did nothing to curb that behavior.

It is wholly unavoidable no matter what route you take. Burial, Decay, Questionable or not.

I think to argue that it's just a silly little ending you can get does a disservice to people who might genuinely be upset by that, and I think more than anything a game that is at the very least talking about incest rather brazenly deserves the warnings it earns!

I love this game to bits, anyone who's been within ear shot of me has had to deal with me talking their fucking ear off about the Sibling Abuse Simulator. I've gone on in excruciating detail how I think Tcoaal's writing has been done dirty by saying that Andrew and Ashley's romance is just a 'ha ha shock ending', comparing it to the siblings ending in something like Corpse Party (a game where the incest ending is 100% totally avoidable, and the story has exactly nothing to do with incest as a topic, and is only brought up if you trigger that ending. One where I agree with the argument that it's just there for shock value)

Anyways I see where people are coming from, I can understand the want to defend the game as more than the sum of it's parts and I agree that it does suck that this seems to be the thing everyone is hyper-focusing on in terms of it's breach of containment. I get it man, I really do. It deserves so much better than being reduced down the way it has by the greater internet.

But to say it's avoidable.. I dunno it's like taking the dragons out of Game of Thrones. The story as a whole about so much more than the dragons.. However you'd have a fundamentally different story if they weren't there, wouldn't you?

#the coffin of andy and leyley #Tcoaal #Sorry to all my followers: I see horror game with fucked up topics. I play horror game with fucked up topics.

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luneariaa · 7 months

Note

Hi there! I hope you're doing great! Could you write hc of ash lynx x fem reader? Which reader is exactly like gus fring in breaking bad. She is kind to people close to her but not with people like dino. She looks innocent and cute but not inside.

Sorry it's long. Please take your time. Thanks!!

HIII-!! 💜 thank you so much dear anon, hoping you are too! 💛🌻 you're fine,, and this is the first Ash req that i received actually,, (o´▽`o) ✨

honestly, i'm not too familiar with breaking bad, but did some quick research on the charac and stuff,, also, this is my first hc type of post so i hope this is alright! ( oh and Ash might be ooc here as well,, ) and i may have stray too far.. XD LMAO THIS TURNED OUT TO BE LONG AND OFF TOPIC AS IT PROGRESSES MY BAD--

also tagging : @bagelbanana and @r-e-m-i !! i've seen you both commenting on my old Ash post bef 💜🌻

- dividers by @/cafekitsune!! 🌻

to start with, your looks could deceive most people. some would assume that you're just a cute, regular girl roaming down the streets, when in fact, you weren't.

so this leads to some guys ( or so ) flirting and trying to make a move on you. as disgusting as you find them, you had to agree in a oh-so-sweet manner, giving them a certain location as to where to find you.

of course, when they arrived there expecting for some sort of a 'date' with you, they're receiving their dead end instead.

guys like that don't deserve any mercy, or that's how you have it personally set within your own mind. ( totally not projecting )

but also i think since you can't just carry a gun with you all the time, you instead carry some sort of a small switchblade.

i imagined that you, despite your quite young age ( maybe around 16-17 or so ), are able to manage your own restaurant, to which originally was owned by your father, who is a drug dealer of some sort. your mother is unknown.

because of how successful your father's business is with the drugs, you became the main target of the ones who planned to take down your father.

due to how busy he is, he wasn't that close to you. so you were left to fend mostly by your own.

he did train you a bit for some time, but eventually, he let a certain Kazakh professional assassin; Blanca to train you instead.

and i feel like Blanca lowkey wants to go a bit softer at you during training, and of course, you didn't want any of that honestly. your relationship with him is pretty alright, and you both pretty much respected each other at some point.

and there you met Ash himself, when Blanca was also assigned to train him by Dino Golzine.

okay so, i'd like to think that at first, you and Ash are quite skeptical towards one another. not being too familiar still.

but that changes over time, of course.

it started by that one, random sunny day; you and Ash accidentally arrived early at the private training grounds where Blanca was supposed to train you both.

the two of you ended up conversing with each other-- Ash being the one who possibly initiates the convo first.

perhaps it started with a compliment. maybe the brand new shoes that you're wearing? the view; weather? or even just random small talks. it's still an effort nonetheless.

you're highly aware of the current reputation he holds as the gang leader of the city. it doesn't faze you much, as long as he remains nice to you.

and because of this, you sometimes do heard about Dino himself. back then, you didn't really pay any mind, but did recall that one time where your father said that he did some sort of a drug business with him etc..

but by the way he is regarded, you feel downright disgusted. selfish, ruthless even. but is well aware not someone to be provoked on.

so despite all of that, you remain well-mannered in a way. for the time being, that is. ( unless something or he crosses the line )

but i can't deny the fact that i imagined that you might be finding yourself doing the side-eye at him while he speaks with others; even having the urge to throw some insults or sarcastic remarks at him. but refrain from doing so just yet.

you hate him so so much because of what he did to Ash too.

overall, you despised people like Dino for existing on the surface of the Earth.

SOME BONUSES ( bc lowkey low on idea rn HAHA ) :-

Shorter seemed like he would probably flirt with you at times, but you just laughed it off because it's like a normal thing now.

but Ash def isn't impressed.

knowing how long you and Ash have been training with each other, he silently grew fond and protective of you, despite you can handle yourself fine. i mean, you did manage a whole restaurant by yourself, after all.

oh and yes, Eiji's a precious boy!! you would 1000000% get along with him! <3

but be careful when hanging out around Eiji every so often; Ash might've steal you away from him. ( totally not jealous at all )

all of them def will hang out on your restaurant often when they're able to! 💛

also, random but i can see Ash is the type of guy to let his arm rest around your shoulders; doesn't matter while you're sitting or even standing. he would still do it out of habit.

i couldn't think of a proper confession or anything further romance related rn, but he will 1000000% take you out for a ride on his bike pretty often, especially during late nights <33

stargazing together?? heck yes!!

sometimes you just wanted to join Ash in whatever mission thingy or stuff he has to do or so; and of course, he would agree, but still deep down worried about your safety in general. ( maybe at some times, he would straight up refuse your offer. )

#banana fish #ash lynx #ash lynx x reader #ash lynx x you #ash lynx x y/n #eiji okumura #shorter wong #blanca #banana fish x reader #aria's post 𖥔 ݁ ˖

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esther-dot · 10 months

Note

Idk how attractive jon is supposed to be but he has the stark look and sansa has a thing for the stark look, i mean look at waymar and loras, their descriptions match jon's exactly. Sansa's opinion at the end of the day>>>

I love Sansa’s Waymar and Loras crushes! So cute! I kinda think a good part of what attracts Sansa to any given guy is the romantic notions she can attach to them, not strictly their physical appearance? So while I certainly agree with the Jon and Waymar parallels and think martin intentionally wrote similarities between Jon and her crushes, I believe her romanticized view of knight was a factor as well. Personally, I wish Martin talked about Sansa’s body/ how beautiful she is a lot less, so this isn't a topic I enjoy discussing, but the convo kicked off because of a poll and here’s a screenshot of my totally unremarkable tags:

And here’s what an angry Jon fan posted because they didn’t like the tags on the poll:

They go on to criticize other tags by Sansa fans/Jonsas, but mine were based on specific lines from the books because the question wasn’t vibes but canonical beauty, and it so happens, these are lines I am very fond of because I love NedCat:

And was it really such a terrible thing, to want a pretty wife? She remembered her own childish disappointment, the first time she had laid eyes on Eddard Stark. She had pictured him as a younger version of his brother Brandon, but that was wrong. Ned was shorter and plainer of face, and so somber. He spoke courteously enough, but beneath the words she sensed a coolness that was all at odds with Brandon, whose mirths had been as wild as his rages. Even when he took her maidenhood, their love had more of duty to it than of passion. We made Robb that night, though; we made a king together. And after the war, at Winterfell, I had love enough for any woman, once I found the good sweet heart beneath Ned's solemn face. (ASOS, Catelyn V)

It’s a beautiful passage with a lovely sentiment, so I take exception to classifying this as petty fandom shit when there was nothing intentionally insulting behind what I said, I just think Cat's thoughts about a man she dearly loves were pertinent. Also, Jon’s Stark looks are a big R+L=J clue which is teased a lot in AGOT so it’s intentional and important:

The boy absorbed that all in silence. He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away. Whoever his mother had been, she had left little of herself in her son. "What are you reading about?" he asked. (AGOT, Tyrion II)

Martin described Jon’s face the same way he does Ned’s here, although the point was ha ha! he has the Stark look not because of his father but because of his mother, Lyanna.

Jon had their father's face, as she did. They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair. (AGOT, Arya I)

Arya heard and whirled around, glaring. "I don't care what you say, I'm going out riding." Her long horsey face got the stubborn look that meant she was going to do something willful. (AGOT, Sansa I)

Sansa could never understand how two sisters, born only two years apart, could be so different. It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. (AGOT, Sansa I)

"Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it. You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her." (AGOT, Arya II)

Now, Ned goes on to say Lyanna is beautiful so a lot of fans really emphasize that and say it means Jon and Arya are/will be attractive, and maybe! It doesn't bother me for people to read it that way, but if you look at the other uses of long face in ASOIAF, or the Stark look, I think it indicates, it's not particularly attractive, and one might even say, it's unremarkable. I didn’t say ugly, its simply unexceptional imo. Obviously the horsey face/horse faced stuff is an insult so we don't have to take that to be a neutral assessment, but I don't think it actually means pretty either, not when you look at how it's used elsewhere.

Anyway, it doesn't matter if Jon is handsome or not because we all were supposed to have already learned that what matters is who he is, not his face. So, while I have no investment in how attractive/unattractive these characters are, I imagine that Jon being Jon is what will make Sansa fall for him, not how pretty he is. Something that might sound kinda like this:

I had love enough for any woman, once I found the good sweet heart beneath Ned's Jon's solemn face

#jonsa #nedcat #r+l=j #book jon #dot chat #discourse #< for filtering

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the-egg · 10 months

Note

ahahdbajdjajd hcs for miguel x venom!reader (preferably fem but gn is fine i just love monster girls) tysmm u r doing gods work ❤️

Okay, so I did a little bit of research because I’ve never actually seen Venom, so I hope that this is good! Also, I’m still getting the hang of hcs so bear with me on this.

Tags: Implied smut

Word Count: 1k

===

Alright, so let's get this straight! After the end credits of No Way Home, you ended up getting infected with Venom at the bar and have been reluctantly adjusting to your new powers as a host to Venom. Except, the alien species you were infected with wasn’t from your dimension, so now you were seen as an anomaly to the universe, constantly being thrown from dimension to dimension to get you back to where you “rightfully” belong.

Miguel tried to hate you. He typically doesn’t feel very fond of any anomaly he has to deal with

But you were by far the most compliant anomaly he ever had.

You held no ill will toward the Spider Society and were more than happy to be sent back on your way in the totally humane Go Home Machine, not just once or twice, but about a dozen times or so

To Miguel, you were a breath of fresh air after all the fights he would go through just to keep the canon in place. He even made sure to take your missions personally whenever they popped up. Despite liking you, he had no idea why you were being transported to other dimensions.

The first couple of times he had to pick you up, you didn’t show any sign of being a potential threat. You were just a woman going about her day in a grocery store, or you were on your way to work. You weren’t out fighting crime in the dead of night as Venom until one day you were.

It changed everything between you and Miguel

One day you were just a normal civilian who had no shame in flirting with the tall, handsome man, and the next you were someone who could relate to him in a way other people couldn’t

He admired your capabilities, your fighting style, and your ability to stay in control of your powers

Most of all, he felt seen

You weren’t what was considered a "normal" superhero, and he wasn’t considered a normal Spider-Man

It was besties on sight

He couldn’t deny that watching you transform in and out of venom was hot as shit! The slow crawl as the black veins ran up your arms and neck was just—FUCK!

You had to admit that Miguel looked good from every angle you'd seen him

From his broad shoulders as he turns his back to you to the way he runs his hand through his hair

There were a few angles you would die to see him from, but you’d have to fuck around to see them ;)

Despite not being a part of the Spider Society, you would still occasionally help out on missions with him when he begged you

You two made a solid team. Honestly, you guys were great partners, and Miguel had no problem admitting that to you.

What he did have trouble admitting were his feelings for the woman who was strong enough to handle him mentally and physically

He’d occasionally joke with you, cracking a smile on more than one occasion, but he rarely flirted back with you

You thought that, despite being great friends, he was unattracted to the parasite you hosted

Disgusted as he watched you transform in and out of your form with big white eyes and a plethora of teeth

In reality, he thought that your form, the power that you held in your superhuman physique, was something he couldn’t keep his hands off of

Watching you switch from a woman with a gentle touch to a superhuman with a death grip was definitely not a turn-off for him

I could imagine that he would ask you out first and finally break that sexual tension building up between you two. Lyla finally beat it into him that he needed to keep one of the best people that had ever come into his life. Despite being equally attracted to him, you would only dance around the topic of romance with him. You enjoyed the chase and waited ever so patiently for him to finally stand up and cage you like he should have done when he first met you.

It went a little like this~

You had just finished tying a low-tier criminal to a lamppost when he appeared out of a portal. Heart skipping a beat, you walked over to him, still fully immersed in your "suit." Immediately, you knew something was off. He was completely vulnerable to you, as he wore a pair of slacks and a nice white button-down. You could practically hear his heartbeat racing; he was nervous. While you still didn’t know what was going on, you couldn’t help but jump right into your usual banter.

"Am I an anomaly again?"

Miguel tugged at his collar, looking away as he spoke to you

"I’m afraid I’m the anomaly this time."

"Oh no!" you feigned sympathy, but your smile gave it away. You took a step toward him and leaned in, your heart racing along with his as it caught on to what he was doing. "Do I have to send you back home?"

Hearing how pleased you were with this interaction, he smirked, leaning in as well.

Miggy boi wasn’t feeling too nervous anymore

"I was actually wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner."

Fireworks exploded inside of you as the excitement inside of you grew

You retracted venom from your head to let him see your face

Miguel had to resist biting the inside of his cheek as he watched your face come into view, with black veins still lingering on your neck

Fuck, it was like watching the devil turn into a siren. Irresistibly beautiful as you resist the temptation to commit a sin

but he knew that being with you was a blessing

He watched as your pupils grew wide as you spoke

"Only if I could come home with you afterward."

Could you blame Miguel for closing the gap between your lips right then and there? Could you blame yourself for running your hand through his hair like you imagined doing it a hundred times before?

The only thing you could blame Miguel for doing was stopping before you had half the mind to skip dinner and go straight to his place.

But it wasn’t fair to do that to one of your closest friends, your partner in crime, or your fellow pea in an unlikely pod

"Consider it done."

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #atsv headcanons #spiderman 2099 x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #headcanon

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eddie-hellfire-munson · 2 years

Text

-𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙-

gif credit: his-name-is-ed

Welcome to the hellfire club, this is gonna serve as my masterlist for every fic that I write. Starting out early, so I can keep track of things better and I won't forget or lose track of my fics.

side note: my main account, for answering comments/asks, is @welcome-to-hellfire-sweetheart

Definitely not because I started posting on my secondary account by accident

-𝕿𝖆𝖌 𝕷𝖎𝖘𝖙-

If you'd like to be added to the tag list please check out [this post]

𝕱𝖔𝖗 𝕽𝖊𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊

♡ = light nsfw

♡ = heavier nsfw

♡ = full on smut

☆ = angst

☆ = heavy angst and potentially triggering topics

𝕰𝖉𝖉𝖎𝖊 𝕸𝖚𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓

𝕳𝖔𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝕳𝖊𝖑𝖑 [♡]

pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

synopsis: when the weather reported that it was going to be in the 90s you never could have predicted just how insufferable that would feel.. especially not while you were stuck inside your best friends stuffy trailer.

warnings: drug use, cocky eddie, fingering, m & f orgasm, light choking if you squint, reader has a thing for his rings, light daddy kink.. eddie humping the bed-

[link]

𝕬𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑 𝕰𝖞𝖊𝖘

pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

synopsis: Eddie Munson sneaking into your bedroom to find you jamming out to some Abba!

warnings: none! Just Eddie being Eddie and some fluff.

[link]

𝕽𝖆𝖒𝖇𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖆 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖗

pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader

synopsis: Your boyfriend Eddie is very.. very high.. but the conversations you have when he's stoned out of his mind are always memorable.

warnings: drug use, Eddie being baked as shit, bit of fluff.

[link]

𝖂𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝕳𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊

pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader

synopsis: A series where you get to know Eddie Munson♡

warnings: each part will have its own warnings.

[𝐈][𝐈𝐈][𝐈𝐈𝐈]

𝕿𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝕬𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 [♡]

pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

synopsis: Still grieving the death of your boyfriend you never truly expected to see him again, however sometimes fate has other things in store...

warnings: rated fucking R. Beating the minors off with a fucking stick because this is not for the faint of heart. Oviposition [egg laying], monster demobat Eddie, heavy angst, descriptions of death, blood drinking, etc.

[link]

-𝕰𝖉𝖉𝖎𝖊 𝕸𝖚𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘-

sfw headcanons: [𝐈]

nsfw headcanons: coming soon

𝔖𝔱𝔢𝔳𝔢 ℌ𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔱𝔬𝔫

Coming soon

𝕾𝖙𝖊𝖛𝖊 𝖃 𝕰𝖉𝖉𝖎𝖊

Steve X Eddie brainrot posts

[rings ♡]

𝕸𝖆𝖍𝖔𝖌𝖆𝖓𝖞 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖁𝖊𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖗 [☆]

pairing: Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

synopsis: Eddie's been having a hard time sleeping, and when Steve gets a distressed call from Max over the walkie talkie he decides to go check on him.

warnings: some Steddie angst and fluff, mentions of death, overdosing, and gore. Drug use, Eddie reliving his near-death trauma cause he's totally fine and alive and everything is fine.

[link]

this one does contain spoilers for s4 part two so if you haven't seen that I suggest watching it before you read this.

𝕭𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊

pairing: Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

synopsis: "Somehow Eddie returned" [it's a star wars reference].

warnings: alcohol abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, Steve being miserable.

Chapters: [11:32am]

𝕭𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝕳𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖛𝖊

Coming soon

#eddie munson #steve harrington #billy hargrove #eddie munson x !reader #eddie munson x reader lemon #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x reader smut #billy hargove imagine #eddie munson imagine #steddie #eddie x steve #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader lemon

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jesterprincessjazmin · 2 months

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INTRODUCING... THE ONE N ONLY..! PUT UR HANDS TOGETHER 4.. *drum roll please*

Meeee! Its me! :3 look here I am!

i dont have locs anymore :'3 I actually belly flopped off a diving board SO HARD the little lockage i had came undone! Like the weezer song! >B] anywhoz

WELCOME TO MY PAGE :3 HEREZ SUM INFOS ABT ME ^^;;

My interests!!! (^∧^)

I LUV SAPPHICS!!! AND QUEER.. ANYTHING! >///< im sapphos apprentice fr

my favorite shows r animes that will ruin ur life and childhood cartoons!! ^_^ like madoka magica, death note, erased, adventure time, my little pony friendship is magic, chowder, fish hooks etc etc! >;3

My favorite artists are hastune miku!!! And nicki minaj and System of a Down! :3 and tyler the creator and lemon demon and tally hall and jack stauber and spellcasting <3

I don't like labels :P)) I like writing scripts, songs, drawing and singing and theater and film - i don't have an act in specific. I just do what makes me happy

I draw and make comics and cartoons! I love art and animation so very much! My dream is to be a well-known cartoonist for many different projects ^_^ I adore indie animation, too!! Bugbo and the amazing digital circus and big top burger are my inspirations currently >:3c

My dni

Basic dni info don't be racist don't be a terf no pro contact/anti contact zoos or maps no mspec lesbians yadda yadda all the normal stuff and if u consider urself one of those "I hate everyone equally" centrist dickheads then gtfo my traphouse, disrespectfully <3

ALSO im very much cringe coded so if u embrace "cringe culture" or are against furrys or gacha kids or just people being themselves and being happy without hurting anyone (keyword: WITHOUT) you can also gtfo my traphouse NO BULLIES ALLOWED! /srs

Also, pro shipping is a sensitive subject for me. If your ships are harmful or downright disgusting, dni. I know it can be a coping skill for trauma, but my acc isn't the best place for that sorry bud :/

BYF!

I'm autistic!!! :3 self diagnosed for now trying to get a medical diagnosis soon! So tone tags are very much appreciated! /srs

Hey! Im a minor!! Im 16!! Keep that in mind if ur an nsfw acc or centered around adult topics!! <33

I go by fae/faer prns mostly!!! She/her is ok too but i prefer fae/faer!! ^_^ I have some xenos like doggie/doggiez as well!

I'm down with the sickness /ref

... by that I mean I got a lot going on in my life :p living situation and mental illnesses, I'll just be posting whenever I wanna, no strict schedule

I'm super silly and still figuring myself out! So come along with me like the adventure time song n Diddy and watch me grow thru my shenanigans on this totally valid real and not social simulation of an app/website >:D

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saintsugu · 4 months

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ive taken the past few days to gather my mental bearings and try to properly formulate my thoughts. as a survivor of csa, i do not take these topics and criminal allegations lightly.

- starting with the two (2) threads that i wrote on twitter: writing has always been a form of therapy for me. I began writing on Twt, rather than just post on this blog, for a reason. It was separate from the the friends i’ve made on here. I’d be able to write things that about trauma that i’m too ashamed to admit. I could discuss topics that have been prevailing factors in my own real life without feeling worried about being shamed. I get that these are taboo topics (and for good reason), but I don’t know where the conclusion formed that just because i was discussing / consuming these topics through fiction, automatically meant that i was getting off on the idea of it happening in real life; especially compared to the possibility that maybe i was using it to cope.

Everybody has lines they’re not willing to cross. I get it; I have those too, believe it or not. for me— as a survivor, discussion of underaged content falls into the same category alongside of noncon, stepcest/incest and cannablism. None of which i support in real life yet all of which i have at some point consumed via fiction. Now obviously, these standards aren’t the same for everyone, but in my mind there is no difference. I would never accuse someone of being a r*pist if they wrote noncon. I would never claim that it’s dangerous for them to interact with women in their real lives.

People deal with trauma in different ways. When I first started to write dark content on my old blog, i dipped my feet into dubcon. I didn’t care much for it. But then in the months following, i was SA’ed by my best friend. I then began to write graphic noncon. And i felt a bit better— a bit more in control. I was now choosing when and where i was viewing and consuming fiction with these topics, rather than when i had something i did not want forced onto me.

It’s taken me a long time to begin to process certain things that took place in my childhood. Having to process something, that happened more than a decade ago, entirely alone with zero support from anyone i know is difficult. I found a way to help myself cope. My methods may have been unsavory and uncomfortable for people, but not to the extent of graphically telling me how to k*ll myself in my inbox. Yes, I did write and consume underaged fiction in order to cope with my personal trauma. I fully own up to that. At the end of the day, fiction is just fiction.

Concerning the ‘expose’ post, the OP also claims that this was not to start a witchhunt, just to shed light to the situation; all the while, they were in my inbox telling me to kill myself before even making a post. Alright. People have had no issues calling me the f slur, making transphobic remarks/purposely misgendering me, and of course, graphically telling me how i should end my life. They’ve sent hundreds of asks claiming they care about the situation, when in my opinion—which might not mean much, no matter how you feel about me, if you resort to threatening, hate mobbing and threatening me irl, you are not handling things in the right way either.

In regards to the minor in my following list, i don’t know who she was or if her pinned post had changed. when i read the expose post i immediately unfollowed her and checked to be met with the fact that she didn’t follow me and we had shared a total of zero messages between the two of us. I am unsure if her pinned post changed or if I had foolishly followed her without checking to a full extent. Either way, we had no interactions. That might sound like a copout but unfortunately, i have no other commentary i can share on the matter.

at the end of it all, i can only control my own boundaries. i tag everything accordingly and that is the most i can do. drawing and fictional pieces cannot be considered cp.

#tw discourse

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harrydracompreg · 1 year

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2023 H/D MPREG FEST - WEEK 1 RECAP

This year's H/D Mpreg Fest is off to an amazing start! We're pleased to bring you such brilliant works to start the fest off. Don't forget we'll be posting through about June 13 th, so we have many more delightful things to come. Here's a recap of what posted this past week: Title: A Gentleman of Good Conceit Author: Anonymous Word Count: 4.2k Rating: R (Mature) Who is pregnant?: Draco Summary: Harry worships me, hungers for me. Facts are facts. What's also a fact is that I'm egotistical, an utter snob, and totally impossible to live with. But then, when has the impossible ever stopped Harry Potter? A Gentleman of Good Conceit Title: All In Due Time Author: Anonymous Word Count: 17.8k Rating: R (Mature) Who is pregnant?: Draco Summary: Life hasn't been easy for Draco since the end of the war. People aren't quick to forgive, job opportunities are few and far between, and no one wants to give him a second chance. The only ray of light in his dark existence is Scorpius and the baby he carries. When even that is in danger, and it feels like the darkness is finally closing in on him, Draco's past catches up with him once again. But this time it may not be quite so bleak. ⚠️ This work covers some heavier topics. Readers are advised to check the tags and use their discretion. For those who choose to read, make sure you take a moment to read the Author's notes. All In Due Time Title: If You Miss It, Try Again Author: Anonymous Word Count: 17.8k Who is pregnant?: Draco Summary: The healers promised Draco he wouldn't get pregnant a second time. They were wrong. And this time, he's pregnant with his best friend and roommate Harry Potter's baby. Nine months is all he has to figure it out. ⚠️ In today's Mpreg Fest Fic there are some heavy subjects. PLEASE read the author's notes to help you navigate this wonderfully told story. If You Miss It, Try Again

#2023 hdmpregfest #hdmpregfest week 1 recap #dracoharry #drarry mpreg

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unohanabbygirl · 8 months

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I’ve been following along with your HIPS x FMN posts and I’m totally invested. Could you give us more angsty headcanons?

I’d be more than happy too. Ngl, I’ve been thinking about this AU for a while now so I have quite a few.

First off, getting into Osferth’s headspace is important because the plot revolves around his existence just as much as it does Luke’s past life and former trauma’s. Being a child born of r*pe isn’t an easy plight to come to terms with and creates insecurities regarding self-worth as well as your place in the world. Knowing that the worst thing that’s ever happened to your mother is what led to you being born is traumatic within itself. It’s something that never leaves your head, always there to remind you that you shouldn’t exist, that you ruined the possibility of your mother having a great life and doing amazing things. Luke could’ve been someone history regarded as one of the best Lords Driftmark had ever seen, but because of him Luke is no more than a victim whose been the subject of perverse and degrading art for centuries.

The constant reminders hurt, especially living in modern day. He’s still very young so being such a big (and slightly controversial) topic in history gets to him easily. He’s been forced to listen to strangers good and bad opinions regarding his mother and the choices he made. Judging what Luke should’ve done differently or how he fucked up by doing x,y,z despite the fact that he was no more than a scared kid himself. Osferth has always been a kind, understanding boy so it drives him up the wall that people can’t find it in themselves to see that his mother isn’t a topic to fuel their debates but a human being. Its a lesson to him that teaches him not everyone is capable of empathy or can put themselves in someone else’s shoes like he can.

Egg gathering evidence for months to reveal to the family that Aemond has a twisted fixation with graphic paintings depicting Luke’s assault hits Osferth hard. Though everyone did their best to make sure we wasn’t subjected to every piece of evidence available he still decided to do his own research after listening in while hiding at the top of the staircase. It leads him to googling the museum and taking some time to scroll through their website where he finds an entire category dedicated to art with Luke as the subject amongst other popular historical figures. The first page is tame and even leads him to shedding a few tears. Filled with beautiful pieces of paintings and sculptures alike that depict he and his mother as holy figures. Mostly of him as a newborn in Luke’s arms.

Sadly, the next click is where things start to get darker. Osferth doesn’t even make it to the bottom of the second page when he exits out and deletes his history without a second thought because there’s a chilling look of fear in Luke’s eyes as he tries to push a lust ridden Aemond off of him. Some are from as early as the late 12th century with price tags that go upwards of hundreds of millions. Little descriptions going on about the complex beauty of pain, forbidden lust and tear jerking push and pull between primal instinct and basic morality.

He doesn’t talk to anyone for a few days after that. Makes it a point to block Helaena’s phone number too after the bs she spouted in her brother’s defense. She never tries to contact him anyway, not after the absolute disaster she made of his 12th birthday party after showing up uninvited with Maelor and the twins.

One of Osferth’s most difficult struggles regards his looks which is understandable. He’s a carbon copy of Aemond and there’s not much he can do about it. He’s come to Rhaenyra about it quite often, voiced his own issues with how he looks as well as asking if she resents him for it. Ofc she tells him no, gives him a big and and assures that she could never see Aemond she looks at him. Same as his own mother did after he learned the truth.

Unsurprisingly, this doesn’t help much.

Soon enough Osferth goes down the rabbit hole of cosmetic procedures to change his most striking features. He’s still a young teenager (I picture somewhere around 13) so it’s not as though he can go under the knife, but this doesn’t stop him from becoming borderline obsessed with changing his looks via surgery once he’s of age. Perhaps a nose job or chin shaving, maybe both along with some filler to make his face less angular. Round out the harsh edges that he’s come to resent.

In conclusion our baby is struggling 😔

#asks

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collinnmckinley · 11 months

Note

trigger warning for mention of r*pe and sexual assault (feel free to not answer and delete if this topic is too much!)

Cannot believe you've got anons defending some of the stuff in fics and whitewashing it as just "experiencing attraction to a character." I cannot stand the pervy!141 fics. Especially because they tag it as non-con/dub-con (and sometimes they don't even include that warning, smh). Years ago, people in a ton of fandoms, especially on tumblr, all agreed that non-con/dub-con is literal rape. There's not such thing as "dubious consent"—that is 100% r*pe. Like, are we really fantasizing about r*pe??

Obviously, including dub-con/r*pe is so out of character for the 141 and COD in general. Maybe darker fandoms are more tolerant of that stuff because of the nature of their original material but I don't see COD being one of those. Especially because women in the military and civilian women in war zones are subject to so much sexual violence. And, female COD fans often experience threats of sexual violence and intense misogyny when we play online either in multiplayer or Warzone. That's literally why I have to always have voice chat disabled when I play.

Your dumbass anon™ was saying that tumblr is public so they should get to post what they want. That's totally true but guess what?? If they make their fics public, then they need to be open to both positive and negative feedback. That's part of being a writer—from someone who actually writes for a living. There's a level of vulnerability to putting your ideas and craft out there. If you can't handle the heat, get out of the kitchen. In other words, if you can't handle people critiquing your fics, then keep your stories saved on a hard drive and don't share it. End of story.

TRIGGER WARNING!!

I remember back in 2018 I just got introduced to OW fandom, let me tell you, the amount of dub-con it had was wild. I, being young and stupid, didn't understand that it's literally r*pe because it didn't mention that and it's just said dub-con, I thought it would be "oh they might be role-playing or she'll be totally okay with it later on" or " is this how they start becoming lovers cause it doesnt make sense?" and I would always comment something along the line of "she said no at first, why is she taking it without fighting? can she not get help from her friend? why is 'my favorite character' acting like this?" and the authors would be frustrated to answer my questions every time. it only took me a year to understand that people were fucking degenerates and this is not a genre that should be taken lightly because like you said, it's literally r*pe. and at the time, that genre was RAMPANT, how it is right now in cod tumblr.

and when I see all that being repeated in cod fandom, I can't stand it! it pisses me the fuck off. they think, because cod is all "war and no love" and how "hard ass" these characters are, how manly and rugged they are, they'll act this way towards anyone let alone their loved ones. if ANYTHING some of the pure, loving and soft characters I've come to known from different types of media (videogames, tv series, movies, etc) , came from military or law enforcements. not everything has to be overtly sexualized or made into some fucked up fantasy.

and yeah I'm in the same boat as you are when it comes to voice coms. I am terrified of what I might hear in it regardless of if its towards a woman or not, so rarely open it when I play alone.

all in all, that anon should not be interacting with me anymore, good fucking riddance. and this should be a lesson to everyone who thinks like that too. never fuck with or come near people who has unconditional love towards "fictional" characters and want to protect them no matter what the cost. we wont hesitate to kink shame you, at least I wont.

#jay answers #keegan-s #tw #edited

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succubusphan · 2 years

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A Rose of Winter - Chapter 1

Summary: All Daniel wanted to do was escape the stifling life as a Stark of Winterfell and travel the world. Between the looming threat North of The Wall and the den of lions in the capital, he unexpectedly finds love in the midst of a war set to tear Westeros apart. Caught between loyalty to his family and duty, he is torn in a thousand directions that all point to one man: Philip Flowers.

Rating: E (There are only a few smut scenes but it's an M for battles, war, and other adult topics)

Tags/warnings: I removed most triggers (no R or SA, no minors involved in sex, no gore). It does include: Deaths either written without details or in a poetic way if it's an important character (Dan and Phil, Ghost and Balerion will live but everyone else is fair game). Strangers to lovers, Slow Burn, missing each other. The prophecies and stories foreshadowed are fulfilled, a satisfying ending to the entire story without plot holes. Extreme canon divergence. Dan and Phil are not replacing characters, they were written in. GAME OF THRONES AU

Author's Note: This is my OSPBB 2022, Couldn't have done it without my betas @effingmeteors and @filisaceaf.

Word Count: Each chapter will be around 15k and have at least one Dan or Phil pov. The total wc is about 210k.

Read on Ao3

DAN

Winterfell, North of Westeros.

Dan got lost staring into those piercing blue eyes; they were calling to him, luring him out, trying to drag him to the abyss below and claim his soul. He tried to resist but he was defenceless against the creature, so he took a step forward, letting himself be consumed little by little, giving in, gasp-

Suddenly, the covers were pulled from his body, a cool draft making him shiver. Dan bolted upright and saw his brother smirking with all of his bedding in his hands.

“Get up, father is looking for you. You should be teaching Bran already,” Jon said.

“Where is Robb?”

Jon shrugged. “I’m not his keeper, little brother. Now hurry, before Lord Stark comes looking for you.” With that, he walked out of his room, leaving the door wide open.

Dan groaned and climbed out of bed, pulling his breeches and coat on, along with his leather armour and boots. He didn’t bother with any more layers because he knew he would be sweating in no time. He rushed down the stone staircase and out the door of the Great Keep in search of his brothers.

The shooting ring was already set up across the courtyard, Bran standing off to the side, an arrow already resting on the bow, the string drawn. Just as he was about to shoot, Dan smiled and shouted: “Posture!”

Bran was startled by his voice and missed the shot horribly, nearly hitting the blacksmith who was not even close to the target. “Dan!” he said, stomping his little feet, “I was about to hit the target!”

“No, you weren’t,” said Dan and Robb in unison.

“Your posture was all wrong,” Dan insisted, coming to stand behind him and correcting his angle as well as poking his back. “You are slouching. Stand up straight.”

Bran huffed and positioned another arrow. He drew the string, took a deep breath, and shot, missing the target but hitting the head of the dummy.

Robb snorted and looked at Dan. “You are late.”

“I overslept, but here I am.”

“Wars don’t wait for you, Dan,” his father said from the bridge connecting the Great Keep and the Armoury. He was watching them closely along with their mother.

Dan paled. Was he going to be in trouble for being late again? He didn’t want to disappoint his family, but he had the feeling that if war broke, he would. He was a skilled swordsman but he lacked discipline most days. “What better way to part from this world than sleeping? War may find me in bed and keep me there forever.”

“Daniel!” His mother admonished him. “I have told you to not joke about that. Death is not a laughing matter, not to Winterfell, not to our family.”

“Sorry, Mother!” Dan’s stomach turned. She was right. The Starks had once been a big family but that was no more. His grandfather and uncle had died at the hands of the king - the Mad King - and his aunt at the hands of his son. This had scarred the family and put Winterfell into such grief that it lasted even to this day.

The northern families were used to sacrifice and loss, but never like that. 'Summer children' every old man Dan ever came across called them. The longest summer that had ever been, but come winter he knew every man would struggle to protect their families, and to give them a chance to survive the famine that accompanied it all. When the temperature dropped and the ice descended from the heavens, a mouth less to feed would be a worthy sacrifice, leaving the supplies for those who stayed behind to rebuild.

Bran huffed at the exchange and shot another arrow, still missing the target but not by much.

“Enough of that,” their father said. “Come along, we are riding for the hills.”

Dan blinked in confusion but nodded. He threw his heaviest furs over his shoulders, readied his horse and waited for the rest of the party. The bannermen rode ahead, carrying the Stark house sigil, the direwolf, announcing who followed. His father and Theon Greyjoy, his ward, led the party. Then came Robb and Dan as they were the eldest children; Jon and Bran followed closely behind.

The ride was slow and silent. A man had been found wandering, speaking nonsense. He was a man of the Night’s Watch; a deserter.

His destiny was sealed. Deserters were executed. Dan looked to his side, his eyes meeting Jon’s. They were the same age, mere months apart. Sons of the same father but different mothers. A lady and a tavern wench. Dan’s heart ached for Jon, who had never gotten the love of a mother; or of most people, to be honest. The most his bastard brother could aspire to be was a man of the Night’s Watch, much like the one they were about to see depart from this world.

The prisoner waited for his sentence without a fight, held only by two brothers of The Watch. He seemed to be a few years older than Dan himself, which surprised him. For some reason, Dan had been expecting him to be a young and inexperienced boy, but he was not.

Lord Stark dismounted and approached the man, speaking to him without malice or judgement. “Why did you run?” He asked calmly.

“White Walkers.” The man said, shaking. “I saw them - beyond The Wall .”

His father shook his head, venturing a look at the captors.

“I know what I saw!” He defended himself. “It is alright, I accept my fate. Just - please. Tell my family. I want them to know that I am not a coward.” The man was dragged to kneel before a block of stone, bending over it until his chest was flushed to the rock and his head stuck out, awaiting his sentence.

“Do not look away, he’ll know you did,” Jon said to Bran, standing beside him, pressing a comforting hand to his shoulder; Dan stood on the other side, wishing he could look away, dreading what was to come.

Unsheathing his sword, their father passed the sentence. “In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I, Eddard of the house Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sentence you to die.”

With a swing of the sword, the man was no more. Their father turned to them and addressed Bran. “Do you understand why I had to be the one to do it?”

“Because it’s the old way?” he asked.

“The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If we do not carry that responsibility, we may make that decision too easily, forgetting that a life is cut short by people following our orders.”

Bran nodded in understanding. “Is that true? Are the White Walkers real?”

“The White Walkers have been gone for thousands of years.”

“But he saw them.”

“A madman sees what he sees.”

Dan pressed his lips into a line, not knowing what to think. Nobody had seen White Walkers in many, many winters, but this man had seen something, something that scared him so deeply that he chose to flee to a certain death rather than stay at The Wall.

Then, he looked at Robb, who seemed undisturbed about the execution, and Jon who had his dark eyes trained on the body. Dan had to briefly wonder if their father would think the same way if it was his son’s neck on the stone. Would he execute Jon if he deserted?

Getting back on their horses, the men slowly began the ride back through the woods, the spirits low, pondering on what they had just witnessed. The party came to a stop when they found a stag. It was lying dead in the middle of the road, its belly fully open by some sort of beast.

Their father dismounted to take a better look at it and try to determine what could have possibly attacked him. The rest followed suit, too curious to look from a distance.

A noise coming from the bushes alerted them. Drawing their swords, the men ventured off the road to check for a dangerous animal. Dan’s jaw fell as he saw a wolf as big as himself, lying dead on the ground, an antler piercing its body, a litter of pups howling around it.

“What will they do without their mother?” Bran asked, holding onto Jon’s cloak for reassurance.

“Nothing. They will starve to death.” Their father said.

Theon unsheathed his knife and picked one of the pups up, putting the blade to its throat. “We should kill them.”

Bran gasped, his face stricken by horror. “No! Father, please!”

“It is what’s right,” he said.

Stepping forward, Jon grabbed one of the small wolves. “My Lord, there are five pups and you have five children. There is one for each of the Stark children and the direwolf is your house sigil; you were meant to find them.”

Dan let out a sigh of relief as his father gave him an all black beauty, a grey one to Robb, and a white and orange one to Bran, who accepted it happily.

“You will raise them yourselves, feed them, train them, and if they die - you will bury them yourselves.” He gave the other two to Dan to carry home for his sisters.

Just as they turned back to their horses, Jon heard something, stopped short and ventured back past the trees, and even further. He kneeled and brought a white ball of fur close to his face, smiling. Then, he held it up, showing it to Dan. It was another direwolf pup, white as snow but with piercing red eyes.

“That’s the runt of the litter,” said Theon playfully. “That one is for you, Snow.”

Unbothered by Theon’s provocations, Jon walked back to his horse and mounted it.

“How did you find it?” Dan whispered.

“I thought I heard someone calling my name,” Jon said.

The ride back to Winterfell felt quick and easy, Dan’s mind already focusing on his pup and how he was going to raise the small beast. He wondered if it would be a good companion and he certainly hoped so.

As soon as they crossed the gates, Dan got off his horse and walked inside in search of his little sisters. He tried The Great Hall, but it seemed he had missed not only breakfast but lunch as well. He sighed tiredly and made his way to his bedroom to leave his pup on the bed before dragging his feet to the sewing room and knocking on the door.

Septa Mordane opened the door and gave him an unimpressed, yet fond look. “Daniel, to what do we owe the pleasure?” she asked.

Dan opened his satchel and carefully pulled the two sleeping pups.

Sansa and Arya rushed to him, their needlework carelessly abandoned on the table.

“By the gods, where did you find these?” Sansa asked with a wide smile as she grabbed the fairest of the two.

“They were in the woods. Their mother was killed by a stag.”

“A direwolf on this side of The Wall ?” Arya asked curiously and wasted no time grabbing the other. “Poor girl. Don’t worry, I will be your mother.”

“You are eleven, you cannot be a mother,” huffed Sansa.

“You are not much older than me so if I can’t, you can’t either!” Arya replied and walked away without a glance back.

Dan shrugged and left to tend to his new companion, but first, he needed food for the both of them.

---

Life continued as usual, the northern days grey and wet. Most days he had trouble getting out of bed to fulfil his duties: training Bran, learning to be a Lord, a future leader, and a man. The sheer responsibility of it made his head spin, made him want to ride into the night, to never be seen again, but he loved his family and couldn’t picture life away from them, from his home. Dan was not made to be any of what was expected of him and he knew that was a great disappointment to his parents, but they had Robb, their perfect child, and thus, Dan could allow himself to be imperfect, to be as much of himself as he could be.

He sighed tiredly and snapped his fingers, calling Balerion over, and made his way out of the Great Keep and into the Godswood. He looked at the white tree that had stood undisturbed in the centre of Winterfell for thousands of years, witnessing its history, watching the Starks come into this world, grow old and die. Would it remember Dan? Certainly not. Balerion chewed softly on his fingers, trying to get his attention. “Alright, alright. I’ll cheer up. Now,” he said, picking a small branch from the ground and giving him a half-smile, “run!”

Balerion chased after the branch, catching it midair and staring at him expectantly. “Give me that!” Dan said, trying to make his wolf return with the stick but to no avail. Still, he laughed and walked over, petting him and congratulating him on his hard work. “I don’t believe your training is working, but that’s ok; neither is mine.”

Dan heard someone walk over and peeked from behind a tree. His father sat under the weirwood tree and pulled out his sword, washing it on the pond. His mother followed shortly after.

“My love… a letter came in the night. John Arryn is dead.”

“Your sister?”

His mother shook her head, her long brown hair flowed in the wind. She laced her fingers before her. “Fever; he was gone in a matter of days. I’m sorry, I know he was like a father to you.”

His father let his head hang.

“That is not all. The King rides for Winterfell - with his Queen and children and all the rest of them,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain.

His father’s head snapped. “You know what that means. The hand of the king has passed.”

“You don’t have to say yes. You don’t owe him anything.”

“He is my King. I owe it to him to listen to his proposal.”

Dan gasped. He couldn’t hear anymore, the noise in his ears muffling anything else. He turned to Balerion and hugged him tightly, trying to take a deep breath. The King

wanted his father as his closest advisor. This was not a job one could easily decline or retire from. For all Dan knew, if his father accepted the offer, he would die in King's Landing.

Ever since the last war, which ended months after his birth, his parents had made it a point of keeping every single family member in Winterfell, and now they were about to be tossed to the wind. Would his father want him to join? Would he be assigned to protect Robb?

He needed to think, and fast. The King would be at Winterfell in a matter of weeks.

----

News had broken that the King was near. Nerves consumed Dan as he sat with the barber, getting just a haircut since he’d never been able to grow a beard like the rest of his brothers.

“One day you will grow to be a real man, little brother,” Jon teased. “You will get a nice beard like mine.”

“I should be the one to call you little brother. You may be a few months older but I am much taller than you,” Dan said, thankful for his brother’s attempt to distract him.

“You shouldn’t speak to Dan like that, bastard. Lord Stark will not stand for it. Better focus on loving women more than you love that long hair of yours.”

“Oh, shut up Theon!” Dan said, standing from the stool and allowing Jon his turn. “This is a conversation between brothers and it does not concern you.”

“That is true,” Robb finally said. “But it is also true that Jon has never loved a woman more than he loves his hair.”

“I am cutting it for the King’s visit, isn’t that enough?” Jon asked, letting the barber slide the knife against his cheek.

“Well, I guess it depends on if you plan to cut it again before the next King comes to visit,” Dan smirked.

Jon threw a dirty rag at his face, making him laugh.

He stepped out to the Courtyard and immediately saw Bran standing on the wall. His heart skipped a beat as he watched his little brother jump from section to section of the wall, onto the side of the broken tower, hanging from stone to stone and jumping to the ground.

“I saw him! I saw him!” Bran said, running towards him.

“Who?” Dan asked, playing coy.

“The King!” Bran said, “There are hundreds of people with him, and a red carriage too!”

“Well, of course! He’s the King!”

Their mother rushed to them. “Brandon! I have told you time and time again. No climbing!”

“But, Mum!”

“I said: no climbing!”

“Yes, mother.” Bran let his head hang, trying to look remorseful but Dan smiled knowing he would do it again as soon as their mother looked away.

“Now go get your sisters. I expect you all to be on your best behaviour!”

Dan let out a deep sigh, regretting it the moment his mother gave him a reproachful look. He smiled and stood off to the side, watching everyone rush to form and wait for the King to ride into Winterfell.

The banners entered first, a black stag on a yellow background representing house Baratheon. The King followed, sitting proudly on his horse. He was nothing like Dan had imagined him. A tall man in his forties, black curly hair down to his shoulders and robust body; too robust to match the fame he’d received as a warrior decades before. He descended from the horse with great difficulty, shouting and cursing as he gave the reins to one of his soldiers. He walked over, standing in front of Dan’s father. “Ned! Nine years. You’ve gotten fat”

Dan wanted to snort when he saw his father look the King in the eyes and pointedly at his wine belly, but he resisted.

The King threw his head back and laughed, pulling both Ned and Catelyn into a fierce hug. “And you, you look strong!” The man said, looking at Robb. “Your name?”

“Robb,” he said with a charming smile.

“A fine name!” He walked over to Dan who was nervously resting his hand on his sword. “Ah, an alert man! You’ll make a good warrior,” he laughed and continued.

Dan let out a sigh of relief as the King greeted his sisters. “Who may this young lady be?”

“My name is Sansa, Your Grace.”

He looked to Arya, who was wrapped in a coat too big for her and wearing a helmet, and nodded at her.

“How old are you?” he asked Bran.

“Ten!” he said.

“Show me your muscles!” King Robert said, flexing his arm.

Bran flexed his arms, making the old King laugh.

Then, the red carriage crossed the gate. It was quite beautiful and adorned with golden lions; there was no doubt about who was inside. The doors opened to reveal the Queen, Cersei Lannister, long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, a beauty to say the least. Her three children followed her, all three of them as blonde as their mother. She walked to the Stark family with a tight smile as she dragged her beautiful red dress through the mud. Her distaste was evident.

Dan frowned as he saw a soldier ride with a helmet shaped like the head of a dog; that couldn’t possibly be comfortable or useful in battle. Perhaps it was a fear tactic.

A tall blonde man approached the Queen with a smile. It was Jaime Lannister, the Queen’s twin brother. Dan had to admit that he was looking at him so intently he lost track of what was happening around them.

Arya’s voice pulled him from his musings. “Where is the imp?”

Dan’s eyes widened at the term and looked around in search of the third Lannister sibling, but he was nowhere to be found.

The Queen looked at them but didn’t mention Arya’s transgression; instead, she offered her hand to his father and greeted his mother as she gave her a once over.

“Is this the first time you ride north, My Queen?”

“Yes,” she said. “It is quite an interesting country. I hope to see more of it.”

His mother made a curtsy and the unnecessary display was over. The king and his father descended to the crypt to visit his late aunt Lyanna leaving everyone else to do as they pleased.

Dan finally relaxed and went in search of Jon; he had no interest in sharing more time than necessary with the King or the others.

“What will you wear for the banquet tonight?” Dan asked.

“I am not invited,” his brother said, looking away in shame. “Your mother said my presence would insult the Queen.”

“That’s nonsense!” Dan huffed. His mother was incredibly resentful towards Jon for the sins of their father. What fault of his own would a child have for being born from a tavern wench?

Jon shrugged, pretending not to be affected by it, but Dan knew him better than that.

“You will join us. We will sit out back and nobody will disturb us. Mother doesn’t even have to know.”

“You are being ridiculous, Dan. They would spot us in a second, and if they didn’t Greyjoy would point us out to our father.”

“Well - then, I am not going either. I would be incredibly bored!”

“You could speak to Robb…”

“I love Robb, but the only thing we have in common is our father.”

“And swords.”

“He is better than me in that too, like in everything else.”

Jon laughed. “He’s prettier too.”

“Shut up. It is true but you should not mention it,” Dan said, unable to hold a laugh in.

“Someone had to be taller than you. Your ego does not need that kind of boost.”

Dan stood closer to Jon and looked down at him with a smirk. “I am sorry, I cannot hear you from up here.”

“Boys,” a voice said. Dan turned on the spot and watched a cloaked figure emerge from the dark. The man removed his hood and Dan threw his arms around him.

“Uncle Benjen!”

“Dan! You have grown!” he said.

“One of us had to,” Dan laughed and stepped back, allowing Jon to greet their uncle.

“I’ve grown in muscle, little brother, that’s where it matters,” Jon said, pulling uncle Bejen into a hug and patting his back loudly.

“Why aren’t you inside?”

“We don’t belong there,” Dan rushed to say.

Jon looked at him in wonder. “I am taking the black, you cannot come with me.”

“I can - but I will not,” Dan said. “I will ride with you before making my own destiny.”

Jon nodded.

“If you join the Night’s Watch you will never marry or father children. Are you certain that is what you want?”

“Yes. I am a bastard. What future could I give them? I will never inflict this curse, this shame upon a child.”

Uncle Benjen looked into his eyes. “I will stay for a few more days. You have until then to decide if you want to ride back with me. Once you have sworn your oath, there is no turning back.”

“I know. I want to join The Watch and protect the north, as the Starks have always done.”

Benjen nodded and walked to the Great Keep.

“I will talk to Father about it,” Dan said and turned to follow their uncle, his pace slowing as he saw Tyrion Lannister exiting the Guest House with a cup of wine in hand. Dan took a right and entered the halls, hiding in the shadows to better listen to their conversation.

“Aren��t you Ned Stark’s bastard?” he asked Jon.

“Lord Stark is my father. Aren’t you the imp?”

“I may be known by that name, yes. People lack imagination,” the Lannister said. “I may have overheard that you are taking the black, is that correct?”

“Why is it of any importance to you?”

“Because you could come to King’s Landing instead. Join the guards, meet the town, fuck a girl. Here everything you are is a stain on your father’s reputation, but in the south, you could be so much more. You could have a life.”

“The north is my life. I will gladly man The Wall before I guard the likes of you.”

“Don’t be offended, bastard. I meant no harm. You should not let the name bother you, they will always use it against you if you give them that power; instead, wear it like armour and reclaim the term for yourself.”

“What do you know about being a bastard?”

“Every dwarf is a bastard in his father’s eyes,” Tyrion said with a half-smile. He nodded and made his way back to the Guest House.

Dan attempted to get his father’s attention and discuss his future with him, but he was Lord Stark first and his father second. He told Dan in no uncertain way, that he was to sit with Robb at the banquet and behave like the man he wished to be treated as. There would be no concessions unless he joined the rest of the family in honouring the King.

Feeling defeated, Dan changed into a more formal outfit and mentally prepared himself for a long and boring night, trying to disappear into the background. He gave one last look at Balerion, wishing that he could stay back with his friend and made his way down the stairs.

Wine and ale were running rampant already, the music was loud - too loud - and the food was plentiful. Out of those three Dan only cared for the latter.

He walked to the raised dais where the main table was situated and sat beside his older brother with a tight smile.

“I was beginning to worry that you would not come.”

“I was not going to but Father strongly suggested that I did, and here I am.”

Robb poured wine into a glass and passed it on to Dan. “Well, if you are going to be here, at least you can make it so you don’t remember the night.”

Dan briefly considered it but caught his mother staring intently at him. She was sitting by the Queen, which made the woman turn to him as well. He smiled as widely as he could, inclining his head in respect and looked away, finally taking a sip from his glass.

There was pork near him and bread, he shrugged, tearing bits of the meat with his fingers and making a sandwich.

“Will you bring someone into your room tonight?” Robb asked.

“I believe feeding someone to Balerion would be frowned upon.”

Robb rolled his eyes at him. “That is not what I mean and you know it.”

Dan shrugged. His brother didn’t need to know that he had never invited anyone into his quarters. He followed Robb’s line of vision and found one of the King’s Guards looking at him. He was very young, perhaps two or three years older than Dan himself, handsome, blonde and had green eyes, but what melted Dan’s heart was the devilish smile he was giving him.

The man raised one eyebrow at him and looked to the door leading to the courtyard.

Taking another sip of wine, Dan considered it and nodded once. He focused on eating, for the time being, he would have to inquire about the man’s intentions later.

A ball of food flew right in front of his face, nearly hitting him, but caught Sansa instead. His sister, visibly upset by this, yelled Arya’s name and turned to her friend, asking for assistance to clean her skin as soon as possible. Of course, the damage was already done. Sansa was in that sweet age in which a lady found herself embarrassed at most things, and the fact that Prince Joffrey was looking at her intently made it so he’d seen what happened.

The Prince in question did not seem… agreeable, but he had the courtesy of not mocking his sister for the incident. He smiled at her instead.

Princess Myrcella and their younger brother, Tommen found the display incredibly funny and cheered Arya on.

Dan looked to his parents; they were too busy entertaining the King and Queen to pay attention to anyone’s comings and goings. This was tremendously upsetting because it meant, his presence at the banquet had never been essential; nobody would have noticed his absence, but on the other hand, he could still slip out and find adventure. He finished his meal and wine and asked Robb to cover for him if anyone noticed he was gone.

His brother snorted but encouraged him to go.

Staring into the guard’s eyes and cocking his head, Dan stood from the bench and walked out of the Great Hall without hesitation or rush. He had almost made it past the armoury when someone pulled him into a dark corner, pressing him against the wall.

“What is your name, beautiful?”

“Dan. Yours?”

“Nathar. How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” Dan said, a bit dumbfounded by the whispered conversation. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but a talk was definitely not in his plans.

“Good. May I kiss you?”

“Please,” Dan said, leaning closer into Nathar's space.

Dan was extremely happy that he had not drunk much wine, he wanted to remember this night. Nathar pressed his entire body against Dan’s, closing the distance between them into a desperate kiss, his tongue making Dan’s legs shake. He then thrust his hips against Dan’s leg, letting him feel his excitement, driving him mad.

For a moment, Dan thought he was ascending to the heavens, but Nathar decided to focus on his neck and that pulled him back to the pits of hell. Smouldering heat rose through him; no man or beast would be able to pull him away from Nathar if they tried. Digging his nails into his backside, Dan let out a choked moan and was left gasping for air.

“So pretty,” Nathar said urgently, panting into Dan’s neck as he snapped his hips.

Dan took pity on him and bit his neck, perhaps a bit too hard and felt him shake.

“Daniel,” he moaned. “If you ever come to King’s Landing - find me.”

Dan laughed at how unexpected this night had been but nodded nonetheless. He had no idea if he’d done anything wrong, but given Nathar’s reaction, he assumed not.

Stepping back into the Great Hall for a moment, Dan picked some meat from an abandoned plate at the banquet and headed to his room. Balerion would be waiting. He climbed into bed and let darkness lead him to another world.

---

Having decided that his time at Winterfell was coming to an end, Dan decided to speak to his father, man to man.

He found him standing on the bridge, staring out into the courtyard where Arya and Bran were playing with wooden swords.

Dan stood next to him, putting his hands behind his lower back in a vain attempt to look more like him and cleared his throat.

Ned turned to him and smiled. “You finally rolled out of bed?”

“I have been awake since sunrise, actually.”

“I didn’t see you at breakfast.”

“No, I was packing and spending time with Balerion.”

“Will you be joining us then?”

“No,” he said, hesitating, bracing himself for his father’s reaction. “I will be riding with Jon - to The Wall .”

His father’s smile vanished and was replaced with a frown. He was looking at him as if it was the first time they were meeting. “Dan, I don’t think you would be a right fit for the Night’s Watch.”

Dan snorted despite his nerves. “I am not taking the black, Father. I just wish to go out and see the world; to have an adventure.”

“Why would you start such an adventure by visiting The Wall ?”

“Are you really asking me why I want to visit an ice wall as high as one hundred men and as wide as Westeros, created thousands of years ago to keep White Walkers from descending to the rest of the continent? Why do I want to meet the men who vow to protect said wall for life under the penalty of execution?”

Ned shook his head. “You are much too young to be frolicking around Westeros; you belong in the North!”

“I am only a year younger than you were when you married mother,” Dan said, frowning.

“Dan,” he sighed, running his fingers through his long brown hair. “I am leaving for King's Landing with your sisters. Your mother needs you, Winterfell needs you. Winter is coming and I do not want you away from the family.”

“Mother has Robb, as well as Winterfell. You know that nobody here needs me. I am not like him, I am not a leader, nor I am as good with the sword as he is. I want to make a life of my own; to become someone.”

“You are someone, you are Daniel Stark of Winterfell - you are my son.”

“But I want to be more than that.”

“Where would you go?”

“Wherever life takes me.”

“I do not like this. I will not allow it.”

“I am not asking for your permission, Father. I am a man. You can’t protect me forever.”

Ned looked at his youngest children. Arya had disarmed Bran and was pointing at him with her wooden sword, a triumphant smile on her face. “Will you return to Winterfell if they need you?”

“Always,” Dan said. He loved his siblings, he would always come to their aid. His loyalty was first and foremost, to house Stark, to Winterfell. “I will not abandon them.”

His father let out a long sigh and looked at him. His eyes softened as he brushed a curl from Dan’s face. “Very well. You are a man now. I will not stand in your way.”

“Thank you,” he said and Dan realised at that moment that he had never thanked him for anything.

Dan would have loved to say that his last days at Winterfell were uneventful, but the gods had other plans for the Starks. Two days before he was due to leave with Jon, he had a strange dream.

He was running through the hills right outside the castle, panting, much closer to the ground than usual. Then, he looked down and saw his black paws as he ran back home, he was a wolf. As soon as he crossed the gate, he saw summer standing by the Broken Tower, curiously looking up at her little master. He came flying down to them, landing near them with a thud.

Summer howled as loudly as she could, calling for help.

Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. He sat up, gasping, staring straight into Balerion’s eyes. He whined and bit his hand softly, trying to drag him away from bed.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” Dan wrapped himself in his thickest coat and ran outside, nearly falling down the stairs, Balerion following close. His heart dropped when he saw his mother kneeling on the floor, Maester Luwin standing beside her. Bran’s body - no. Bran was laying on the ground, unconscious. He was alive - he had to be alive.

“Mother!” Dan said, kneeling next to his brother. He put his fingers next to Bran’s nose and felt that he was breathing.

Maester Luwin checked his neck and his chest and looked at her. “He is alive, but badly hurt. We need to put him in his bed to rest.”

“Will he be alright?” Dan asked, looking at his mother out of the corner of his eye. She was not answering, simply caressing Bran’s hair as tears fell from her eyes.

The old man pressed his lips into a thin line. “Only time will tell.”

Time seemed to slow down after. Dan was starting to second guess his decision to travel, but he had always heard that Castle Black was not so far away. He could return and see Bran when he had recovered before continuing on his way. It still made his chest heavy, but he was going mad, waiting and waiting for anything to change but Bran did not wake up, he did not move or moan in pain. Still, his mother did not leave his side at all; she wanted to be there, to make sure she was the first person Bran saw when he opened his eyes.

Dan took to drinking on the bridge and watching people go about their lives as if nothing had happened. The King was honoured every night, the dwarf spent day in and day out in the brothel and the rest of them, barely offered any help or support for his family.

He followed Nathar with his eyes, he was guarding Prince Joffrey for the night. Dan almost snorted when the imp slapped his nephew and then slapped him again. He could only hear them faintly, but was sure that the little brat deserved it. Then, he heard it. “You will go and pay respects to the boy’s parents! Their youngest child nearly died!”

“I do not care! I am the Prince!”

Tyrion slapped him again.

“I will tell mother!”

Another slap. “Run along then, run along and tell her, but before you do that, make sure to pay your respects to the Starks.”

Dan followed the youngest Lannister sibling to the Great Keep, curious to see what he was up to. He sat far enough that he could hear them but not be noticed right away. He grabbed a piece of meat and poured himself a glass of wine, nearly freezing when the Queen asked about Bran’s health. Contrary to what anyone would think, she said that it was cruel to let him live if he wasn’t conscious, even if he had been in bed for a week alone.

Taking a long sip of his wine, Dan pondered what exactly were the intentions of the Lannisters with his family. He decided that none of them was trustworthy, which made the King fall under the same category.

Before retiring to bed, Dan stopped by Bran’s room and kissed his forehead, whispering that he should hurry back to them to see him off, promising to take him on adventures. He petted Summer, who was laying next to him, watching Dan intently. “Good girl,” he said. With a kiss to his mother’s cheek, he returned to his room, crossing paths with the Queen and bowing before her. He crawled into bed and fell into a fitful sleep.

---

Dan walked into the great keep and made his way up the stairs, trying to reach Bran, worrying for his safety. He stood by his door for a moment but saw the queen standing by his bed. Wondering why she was there, he stepped inside as silently as possible and sat very still, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

The woman noticed him nonetheless, freezing for a moment. “What is that beast doing here?”

“My apologies, Your Grace. That is Balerion, he is harmless.”

“I would not be so sure of it. You should not keep them as pets.”

“My children have trained them. I assure you they mean no harm.”

His mother pressed her lips into a line before smiling at the queen. “Balerion, leave.”

He let out a high-pitched whine, but she raised her eyebrows at him. “Leave,” she said, firmly.

Dan lowered his head and walked out of the room, looking over his shoulder, but finally exiting when she gestured to him to continue. Still, he sat right outside where he could still hear their conversation.

“A handsome boy, isn't he?” She paused. “What has the Maester said?”

“They have done everything that was possible; now we must wait until he decides to return to us. I pray every day for his recovery.”

“A mother’s love knows no limits. I understand your pain, my first child died shortly after birth. A black-haired beauty. Robert only let me hold him for a moment before they took him from me. I never saw him again, never visited the crypt. It is just too painful.” She sighed. “I will pray to the mother that she returns him to you.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. You are most kind.”

Hearing footsteps approaching, Dan made his way down the stairs and returned to his room, his last thought was how odd it was to watch himself sleep.

Dan’s last day at home was bittersweet. He made a point of spending time with each of his siblings.

First, he went in search of Robb. He found him at the Great Hall, having an early breakfast, already preparing to take on the role of his father in his absence. Dan watched him from afar at first, trying to burn Robb’s face in his memory; exactly how he looked the last time they saw each other until the next. There was a big chance that this would be the last opportunity all the Stark children would be together in quite a few years.

Robb sat strong and tall, his curly hair shining with hues of red with the sunlight coming from the window behind him. His handsome face and gentle smile were his most recognizable features. Dan knew that he would never be as good as Robb, but he didn’t hate his brother for it; he admired him.

“Will you be joining me or continue lurking from the shadows, Daniel?” He said, staring straight ahead, extending his hand to the side to feed Greywind a big piece of meat.

Dan laughed. “One can learn a lot by watching people from the shadows.” He walked over and sat across from Robb.

“What have you learned from me?” He asked, smiling proudly. He absentmindedly grabbed another piece of meat when the wolf chewed on his fingers, demanding another treat and offered it to him.

Dan considered teasing him, making a mean joke, but deep down, he would rather say something more genuine, something he had never said before. “That you would make a good king,” he whispered. “You have the soul of a kind leader.”

Robb’s eyebrows rose and his smile widened. “You will get us both executed with that kind of comment.”

“It is the truth, I am merely stating it,” Dan said, biting into a piece of bread and tearing a good chunk out of it.

“I can see where Balerion learned to eat like that,” his brother said with a smirk. Sighing heavily to Greywind, he gave him a pork’s leg and let him run with it.

“Not all of us can be as perfect.”

Robb’s smile disappeared and Dan knew he had said the wrong thing again. “You are perfect. Just the way you are, Dan. You are a good man and a Stark of Winterfell - and you will always be, no matter what happens.”

Dan’s eyes filled with tears. He nodded, clearing his throat. “Thank you.”

“If you get bored of your little adventure, just come home. I will be waiting for you,” Robb said and Dan knew he meant every word.

He ate as fast as he could and went out to the courtyard. Jon was speaking with the Queen’s brother; the Kingslayer. What a wonderful family they had: a heartless woman, a kingslayer, and an imp.

“You will enjoy the Night’s Watch greatly!” the Kingslayer said, his voice carrying loud enough for Dan to hear the conversation and decided to rescue Jon.

“It is my honour to take the black and protect Westeros.”

“A crowd of thieves, murderers and abusers protecting us from what exactly? From Ice demons that nobody has seen in thousands of years? From the wildlings? They cannot cross The Wall .”

“I would rather devote my life to fight for what I believe is right than betraying those I am supposed to protect,” Jon said and Dan’s eyes widened.

It was true. Jaime Lannister had been the King’s guard of Robert Baratheon’s predecessor. He had stood by his side, swearing his loyalty to the king but in the end, he had stabbed him when his back was turned. Yes, the King had gone absolutely mad but he could have at least looked him in the eye as he took his life. It was easy to become an acclaimed swordsman when you had no honour. Nevertheless, Jon’s honesty could easily put him in a complicated situation, especially being a bastard, so Dan walked faster.

“Brother! We should visit Bran,” Dan said, looking at him intently.

“Daniel, is it?” the Kingslayer said.

“Yes. You are the Queen’s brother,” Dan said with a wide smile. “How can we be of service?”

“I was just wishing your brother good luck,” the man said, giving him both the most charming and coldest smile Dan had ever seen.

“Thank you,” Dan said, looking at him expectantly.

He extended his hand to Jon for him to shake and Dan prayed to the Old Gods that he did. Luckily, his brother looked at Dan out of the corner of his eye and shook Jaime’s hand.

“Thank you for protecting us with your life,” the Lannister man said sarcastically and turned without waiting for a reply.

“What did he want?”

“To berate me, like everyone else,” Jon said, unfazed. “I have already said goodbye to Bran. Or I tried my best. Your mother asked me to leave shortly after.”

“Would you like me to distract her so that you can visit him again?”

Jon shook his head. “Our little brother needs rest and my heart cannot bear to see him like that. He belongs outside, climbing, running free.”

“He will recover and do all those things again; I am sure of it.”

“I hope so, Dan.” Jon turned to the blacksmith and grabbed a small sword, long and thin, with a grip covered in brown leather. “Thank you,” he said, sliding it into a brown leather sheath and wrapping it in a piece of cloth.

“That is an unusual sword for you.”

“It is not for me.”

“Who is it for then?”

“Walk with me,” Jon said, making his way to the Great Keep and climbing up the stairs. He knocked on Arya’s door and waited to be called.

“Yes?”

They walked into her bedroom and watched her move about, gathering clothes for her journey to King’s Landing as Nymeria watched her curiously. “Have you packed yet?” she asked.

Jon nodded, and Dan shook his head.

“Always waiting until the last minute, Dan.” Arya rolled her eyes. “This is my second time, apparently my things weren't properly folded the first time.”

She grabbed a tunic and folded it, placing it on her chest. “Watch this. Nymeria, Shoes!”

Nymeria cocked her head, clearly recognizing her name but not comprehending the request.

“Nymeria, Shoes!” Arya said, but her wolf laid down and rested her head on her paws.

Dan snorted.

“Impressive,” Jon said.

“Shut up. She did it last night!” Arya grabbed her favourite pair of boots and put them in the chest along with her never used ribbons.

“Alright, alright,” Jon said, putting his hands up in surrender. “I have something for you.”

Arya turned to them with a smile. “What is it?”

Pulling the wrapped sword from behind his back, Jon presented it to her. Upon unwrapping the cloth from it and unsheathing the blade, Arya squealed happily. “Thank you!”

“Do you know how to use it?” Jon asked.

“Yes. I stick them with the pointy end.”

Both Jon and Dan laughed.

“How will you name it? A mighty sword needs a name.”

Arya looked at it carefully. “Needle!”

“Alright. You must train and learn to use it responsibly.”

She nodded and placed the sword between her clothes. “And you, Dan? What did you bring me?”

“Nothing, of course. You are a little brat and need to learn to earn things instead of expecting presents.”

Arya pouted.

Dan pulled a beautiful and very small dagger with a leather holster from his pocket. “I’m only joking, Arya. Keep this hidden in your clothes at all times. You can never be safe enough.”

She grabbed the knife and ran her finger on the details engraved into the grip. The weirwood tree on one side and six wolves on the other. “It is beautiful!”

“Never forget where you belong, no matter how much the capital tries to change you,” Dan said.

Arya left the dagger on the bed and ran to hug him, jumping to compensate for the height difference, Dan catching her in the air. “I will miss you and think about you every day,” she said. Then, she kicked her small feet and hugged Jon just as tightly. “Jon, you are my favourite brother, don’t let Dan convince you otherwise.”

Jon snorted, rubbing her back and placing her back on the ground. Dan flicked her nose gently. “Brat.” His smile faltered. “Listen to Father down there. They are not our friends.”

“I know,” she said.

Dan was glad that Arya was such a smart girl. Always focused on the world around her, observing, planning her little schemes to tease her brothers, but also a good person. She would grow to be a good warrior, if their father allowed it. If women could be knighted, she would be a knight; he was sure of it.

---

Dan returned to his room and crouched next to his bed, looking for the velvet pouch he had hidden there. His fingers finally made contact with the soft fabric and he smiled as he pulled it out, lifting it to his face. He opened it and checked that everything was alright.

A wet nose came in contact with his hand, startling. “Balerion! You always take me by surprise, boy.”

Balerion wagged his tail, rubbing his face on Dan’s hand.

“Are you ready for our trip?”

The direwolf whined softly, demanding more pets.

Dan patted his chest and let him rest his paws on his shoulders, staring right into his black eyes. “Silly boy, you still think you’re a pup.” He ran his hands on the sides of Balerion’s snout and turned his face with a laugh when he tried to lick him. “Behave! We have a long way ahead and I have already taken a bath. Now come on, we need to say goodbye to Sansa and Lady.”

Upon hearing his litter mate’s name, Balerion ran to Sansa’s room howling softly all the way.

“Oh, hello, Balerion!” Sansa said. “Have you come to play with Lady?”

Dan watched from the door. “I’m afraid we’ve come to say goodbye.”

Her smile faltered. “It is not a goodbye, just an ‘I’ll see you later,’ right?”

“Well, you will soon be engaged to the Prince and our father is the Hand of the King. I assume your move to King’s Landing will be rather permanent.”

“You could still visit me.”

“I’m sure I will in the future, but the capital is not a place I would stay in for long.”

“I see.”

“I will always make time to assist your coronation, of course. Wouldn’t want to disrespect my Queen.”

Sansa smiled shily. “Do you think I will be Queen?”

“Yes. But not too soon, I hope. You are much too young to be married and his majesty will only be crowned when his father dies, which we hope will be much longer.” He wasn’t sure Robert Baratheon was the picture of good health, but he was the King and he had access to the best care anyone could desire. Dan hoped the man would live long so that his sister didn’t have to take the throne until she was an adult. It would be a great responsibility.

“Of course!” Sansa said, but her mind seemed far away all of the sudden. “Do you think I would be a good monarch?”

“You have a caring soul and a kind personality. Any kingdom would be lucky to have you. I do hope that you still have time to learn the other parts of the job.”

“What other parts?”

“Hosting for important guests, trying to advise your husband on what is best for your subjects, being informed about the needs of the people, and always looking beautiful. That last part, you have achieved already, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, shut up, Dan!” She laughed.

Dan gave her the pouch. “This is for you. A small gift to remember me by.”

She opened it to find a delicate ring. A thin silver band with a blue stone, as blue as her eyes, an S carved into it. “It’s beautiful.”

“That is why I bought it; it reminded me of you.”

Sansa slipped the ring onto her finger and looked at it in wonder. “Thank you,” she said, her smile soon turned into a frown when a choked sob escaped her. “I will miss you!”

Dan pulled her into a tight hug, trying his best not to cry, rubbing her back gently. Sansa was a gentle girl, sometimes a little spoiled but he knew she would grow to be a strong woman. She would take after their mother.

They heard a howl to the side and turned towards their companions. They were jumping and softly nipping at each other. Perhaps they knew it was goodbye.

---

With the King’s caravan ready and leading the journey and the Winterfell carriage following close, Ned, Jon and Dan rode away from home in the direction of ‘The Kingsroad.’ Only the first part of the endeavour would keep them together. With the first fork in the road came the time to bid their father goodbye.

“Dan, be careful out there. It is a dangerous world that we live in; don’t stray too far away from home,” his father said, his eyebrows burrowing into a frown, letting Dan know that even though he still didn’t consider him a fully fleshed man, he was willing to give him an opportunity to carve his own destiny. Nevertheless, Dan appreciated the fact that his father respected him enough to let him learn from his own mistakes.

“I will. Thank you, Father. I wish you success and peace in King’s Landing.”

“Thank you, now go. Make me proud.”

Dan nodded once and looked in Jon’s direction, quietly riding away to allow his father and brother some privacy. They had a short exchange and even though Dan could not hear what they were saying, he could tell that it was loaded with emotion.

Jon nodded to their father and watched as he rode away, trotting to catch up to the caravan.

Uncle Benjen was far ahead, riding alongside Tyrion Lannister and followed by Ghost and Balerion. The wolves were a part of their group but lagged behind, looking back at their masters.

It would be a few weeks until they arrived at Castle Black, but Dan knew the trip would be worth it. He would finally see The Wall and be able to witness his brother’s oath, see him become a ranger and commit his life to a cause he believed in. Dan could only hope to find such an inspiration for himself one day, something to live for - something to die for.

DAENERYS

Pentos, across the narrow sea. Essos.

Daenerys ran around in the front yard of the house with the red door. She laughed and laughed and she climbed the biggest tree she could find and hid from her best friend, a kind boy just around her age.

“Danny! Danny!” he laughed.

A feeling of sadness overcame her as she began to stir. Daenerys opened her eyes and found herself still in the house of the Magister, the sun coming through the window and landing directly on her legs. She rubbed her eyes and found she’d been crying in her sleep.

She couldn’t help herself; even after all these years, Daenerys still remembered the house with the red door as the only place she had ever been happy in. She’d been cared for and loved, she’d had a modicum amount of freedom and she’d had a friend. The boy would probably not even remember her at all, but she would never forget him and all the adventures they’d had together.

Sometimes she wished she could go back in time and be a child again, to not know what it meant to be her, to be the True King’s sister, to be a Targaryen.

“My Lady, your bath is ready. Please don’t take too long; your guests will be here shortly and your brother has requested that you look your best before then.

Danny sighed. She walked to the room next to her own and started to remove her nightgown when Viserys walked in without announcing himself.

“Not ready yet?”

“No, but I will be ready by the time they get here. I promise,” she said, trying to keep herself from shaking.

“Well, then. Go ahead,” he said, running his eyes down her body.

“I will take my bath now.”

“I am not stopping you, am I?”

“Viserys, please.”

“Do you want to wake the Dragon, little sister?” He asked, caressing her cheek before dragging his hand to her neck and wrapping his fingers around her throat.

“No, but - I am sure this warrior will want an untainted bride, and we cannot let our passions get the best of ourselves,” Daenerys said, trying to keep him away without angering him.

“Quite right, you are. I will leave you to it - for now. Once you have married him and gotten me my army I will claim you. There is no greater love than that between Targaryens. It is our way; we must not stray from tradition.”

“Of course,” she tried her best to smile. “I will be your queen, as we have always known.”

Viserys smiled widely and Daenerys would have loved to… no. She needed to focus on the task at hand. She would handle her brother eventually.

As soon as he had walked out of the room, Danny dropped her garment and slipped into the warm water, feeling the heat lap at her body pleasantly, making her groan. She submerged her head and opened her eyes, holding her breath until she felt as if she was going to faint. Then, she saw one of her servants rush to her and yell in distress.

Danny sat up and gasped, letting the air burn as it made its way inside her. “I am alright; I was just wetting my head.”

“Aren’t you burning yourself, My Lady?” The girl asked.

“No, it is nice. I appreciate the flower petals you added; thank you.”

The servant stuck her hand in the water and promptly removed it screaming in pain, the skin in her hand becoming redder and redder by the second. Danny looked at her own skin, white as marble, unscathed.

“You must keep it in cold water until it stops hurting or it will get worse. Go, I will be alright.”

The girl nodded and ran out of the room.

Danny raised her arms, letting another servant help her into the soft purple dress, made out of three thin layers of fabric that flowed like water, shimmering but barely covering her modesty. She ran a hand on it and smiled as they attached two silver dragon pins to the straps on her shoulders and clasped a necklace with the Targaryen sigil to her neck.

“How do I look?”

“You look most beautiful, My Lady,” the servant said. “The colour of the dress matches your eyes and compliments your silver hair.”

“Do you think they will like it?”

“Any man would have to be crazy not to like you, My Lady.”

Danny made an effort to smile again. Even though she knew the girl would never tell her if she looked awful, her smile looked genuine - or perhaps she was a fool for asking someone who could not tell her the truth. The smile finally slipped from her face.

She felt alone; alone and terrified of what the future would bring but she hoped that it would be better than this: hiding at a stranger’s house. Fearing for the day he finally decided to turn them into the usurper’s army or sell them in exchange for gold. Danny had no memory of her home, of Dragonstone. They had been on the run ever since she could remember, trying to survive in a world that wanted them dead. They’d had to start again and again one too many times and this was the last attempt she would make. She would make it home - whatever it took.

As she made her way out the front door and stood beside her brother and Illyrio, she felt herself shake slightly, Viserys hand gently running down her arm. She pretended not to notice and took a small step away from him.

“Where is he?” Asked Viserys impatiently.

“He will be here soon, Your Grace.”

Danny gasped as she saw a few men riding towards them. They looked nothing like what she had imagined. They had extremely long, black hair, their eyes darkened with paint and wore only trousers. Their horses were the most beautiful and impressive she had ever seen.

They finally stopped before them. The tallest and more handsome of them looked at her as the others stayed a bit further away. He rode back and forward, evaluating her from hair to toe, from side to side. She tried to smile, hoping it didn’t come off as a pained expression although that would have been accurate to how she felt.

The man did not say a word at all; not to her, not to her brother and before long, he rode away as fast as he’d arrived.

“Well, did he like her or not?” Viserys asked.

“He liked her, Your Grace. If he hadn’t we would’ve known immediately.”

“Do you really think this man will give me an army?”

“The Dothraki wear their hair in long braids as a sign of pride. When they are defeated, they must cut their hair. That is why his hair is so long; Khal Drogo has never been defeated, Your Grace.”

“How will we ever get the damn army to King’s Landing then?”

“By conquering cities that have a fleet, of course! By the time you get to Westeros, you will be unbeatable and everyone will receive you with open arms as the true heir to the Iron Throne.”

“But first… first I need my army.”

“And you will have it, Your Grace.”

---

Weeks after Danny’s eighteenth name day, the wedding ceremony took place. She could barely remember any of it, not that she understood, but the celebration after it was quite… eventful. She sat in a big wooden chair beside her now husband, Khal Drogo, and watched the display in front of her. Couples danced to the beat of drums all around her; the faster the beat was the more erotic the dance became, until one of the men simply took the woman he was dancing with. Off to the side, men were fighting each other for the attention of another woman until one of them cut the other’s braid and killed him.

Daenerys blinked repeatedly and looked at Drogo out of the corner of her eye. He seemed to be enjoying the show, a big smile on his face. She briefly wondered if he would take her like that when they were alone, the thought alone made her nervous. She had never seen someone die, or someone naked other than herself. All she could do was hope for the best and try to conquer the love of the man her future depended on.

A man well into his forties in westerosy clothing approached them and bowed. He did not look like a peasant, nor like a noble. “Jorah Mormont of Bear Island, I would like to congratulate you on your wedding,” he said, presenting a chest to her and opening it to show three dragon eggs. “I bring these dragon eggs from the Shadowlands for the new Khaleesi.”

She leaned forward in her chair, extending her hand to touch the scales softly. “How could this be?”

Illyrio Mopatis stepped in and observed the eggs. “Time has turned them into stone, but their beauty still remains, Daenerys.”

She was at a loss for words; her lips moved but no sound came from them.

“I also bring books on the tales of Old Valyria and the Dragon Wars. With these gifts, I pledge my allegiance to you and House Targaryen.”

Danny lowered her head, humbled by the man’s generosity. “Thank you, Ser. You are very kind.”

The man finally smiled and took a step back; coming to stand beside Illyrio so that they could chat.

The rest of the day went by in a blur; the only thing on Daenerys’ mind was the dragon eggs.

As the sun started to set, Khal Drogo stood from his seat and offered her his hand without a word. He led her away from the crowd and into his tent. It was big and beautiful and had all sorts of leather decorations and a comfortable-looking wooden bed with linens that she knew were specifically acquired for her since they matched nothing the Dothraki wore or cared about. There was incense burning around the bed, leaving the air smelling like sweet apples and myrrh.

Drogo placed his hands on her shoulders and she trembled. “No?” he asked.

Daenerys took a deep breath and looked into his eyes, trying to decide as he fiddled with her dress without pulling it open. They didn’t speak the same language and communication would be quite complicated unless she took the time and effort to breach that gap.

He looked at her curiously, still waiting for her reply. “No?” He repeated.

When she didn’t reply, he stepped away and nodded.

He seemed nothing like she had imagined; not to her at least. She offered her hand to him and guided him to the bed, where they sat next to each other. Daenerys was a woman now, and this was her husband. She looked into his eyes, hesitating and pressed her hand to his cheek, slowly leaning in for a kiss.

Drogo let her take the initiative, handling the pace in which things progressed until she was comfortable enough to let herself be loved. He was sweet and passionate and took good care of her, making her feel that this marriage was the first good thing to happen to her in years; even if she hadn’t been the one to choose it.

She lost herself in the strong arms of her husband, where she felt that nothing and no one could harm her. For the first time in her life, she felt safe.

---

As the khalasar rode away from Pentos and in direction of the Dothraki sea, Daenerys fought to adjust to her new life as the Khaleesi. She wore the same clothes as the women from the hoard - a pair of trousers with a short leather top and riding boots, she rode her horse day in and day out without complaint although her legs ached and her hands bled; she ate the dry horse meat they provided for her as best as she could, but eventually, the language barrier, the solitude and the monotony caught up to her.

“Is there anything to eat?” She asked Jorah, who promptly opened his satchel and offered her a piece of horse meat.

She took it still. “Is there anything else other than horse meat?”

“No, Khaleesi. The Dothraki only have slaves and horses. I’m afraid this is all there is for now.”

Daenerys nodded and took a bite, sighing in disgust. She had been eating nothing but horse meat for months and the ride ahead was months still. “How do they acquire their slaves? Do they buy them?”

“No. The Dothraki don’t believe in money.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The horde rides from city to city, taking ransom for not destroying everything. Sometimes if there are few men or the women are ugly, or if the Khal considers that his men haven’t had a good battle in some time, they will ransack the city and take whoever is left standing.”

Her eyes widened at the information. She would not stand for that. “Tell them to stop?”

“What, Your Grace? Stop the entire Khalasar?”

“Yes!” She said, jumping from her horse. She needed a break. She needed to stop and take a moment to breathe and collect herself.

“What should I tell them is the reason?”

“That their Khaleesi ordered it.”

Jorah looked at her proudly. “Of course, Khaleesi.”

She rushed between the tall plants growing at the sides of the road and only stopped when she saw a clearing. She leaned forward, placing her hands on her knees and took a deep breath. It was nothing; she had survived many hardships, she would survive this one too.

Danny saw the plants in front of her rustle and heard a horse approaching, her stomach twisting into knots as she tried to see who it was. When Viserys emerged on his black horse, his purple eyes filled with rage, she took a step back and looked around, trying to determine the safest escape route.

“You dare give me orders!” He yelled, unmounting his horse and wrapping his hands around her throat. “You are nothing! You are no one! I am The Dragon!”

“I am Khaleesi!” she said, her eyes rapidly filling up with tears. His hands tightened around her. She tried to speak but she realised that she couldn’t.

“I don’t care for the savages or their stupid whores! I am your King and you will respect me!”

Suddenly, Viserys' hands were no longer around her; she could finally breathe again. One of the riders had snapped his whip and wrapped it around her brother’s neck. He was slowly choking him.

Her servant came running after her, holding onto her hand.

“Please, don’t hurt him!” Danny yelled.

The girl translated for her but the man frowned.

“He was hurting you, Khaleesi!” Her servant said.

Daenerys shook her head. “Please, he’s my brother!”

They looked at each other and then her quickly suffocating brother and shrugged, letting him go.

She kneeled in front of him and said: “Never put your hands on me again, Viserys. You don’t want to wake the real Dragon.” Then, she turned and left without a glance back.

A grateful smile appeared on her lips when she saw the rider that had saved her return to her side on her brother’s horse with him following on foot, close behind. Maybe this new life was exactly what she had needed to blossom into herself, into her womanhood. She would work to be the best Khaleesi that ever was, accepting their culture and showing them hers. She would bring them glory; she would bring them land and acceptance in Westeros. Their story would be remembered through the ages.

NED

Kingsroad, near King's Landing, Westeros.

Ned groaned, getting up from his bed and rushing to dress for the long day ahead. If he never had to sleep at an inn again, it would be too soon. He made it out the door, greeting the keeper on his way out and went in search of his daughters. He walked down the main road until he spotted Sansa in the distance. She was trying to carry Lady with a leash but the pup was not following her instructions.

Just as he was making his way to her, Prince Joffrey extended his arm to her and she took it with a shy smile, leaving Lady behind. Ned sighed; not only was Sansa already neglecting her direwolf, but she was also walking alone with Robert’s boy.

Sansa seemed enamoured with him and this notion of being a queen, but there was more than one reason Ned had been hesitant to accept Robert’s will. It would put a target on her back, keep her away from Winterfell for good and potentially cause her to have to decide between her family and her husband, and Joffrey would not give her that choice. On the other hand, if he rejected the match, Sansa would hate him and Robert would be very angry with him, perhaps not as angry as to break their friendship, but it would not be pretty.

Ned let out a deep sigh and called the wolf. “Come on, Lady!” He snapped his fingers and she trotted behind him. They walked to the edge of town where he knew Robert would be enjoying his meal away from his subjects.

He approached the table where his friend was already drinking wine and cursing loud enough to be heard all through the seven kingdoms.

“Why do I even bother hiring killers when they can’t even find a stupid little girl!?”

“I see that you have opened the wine early, Your Grace,” Ned said, raising his eyebrows at him with an amused smile.

“It’s that Targaryen WHORE married a Dothraki Khal and they are trying to gather an army to retake the throne!”

“She’s in Essos and has no power, let her be. She was a babe when her father died.”

“Doesn’t matter, Ned! She will soon be popping little Targaryen bastards that will come to take the throne from me!”

“How would they possibly come?”

“They are gathering forces! They have a thousand Dothraki riders!”

“They have an army in Essos and no ships. They are no threat to you.”

“What if they get ships?” Robert grumbled.

“Then, we’ll crush them. All of Westeros will unite to fight them.”

“You forget that many called me a usurper, and many still think that way.”

Ned shook his head. “Not anymore, you have won the heart of your subjects.”

“No - I don’t think I have. But at least they are not afraid that I may burn them alive.”

Lady chose that moment to put Robert’s hand in her mouth and chew on his fingers softly.

“Oh, you little beast,” he said with an amused smile. “What are you doing?”

“She just wants some royal pets.”

Robert laughed, downing his glass of wine and patted his lap, letting her climb on him as he scratched her fur.

There was a scream in the distance; it sounded like Joffrey. Ned stood and looked around.

“Oh, what now?” Robert huffed, already in a bad mood again.

“Stay here with your guards.” Ned ran North and followed a path between the trees, leading to a small river. There he saw Prince Joffrey grabbing his hand and crying, he had bite marks on his hand and arm as Sansa tried to comfort him. His sword lay on the ground beside him.

“What happened!?”

“That beast! It attacked me!” He wailed.

Ned looked to Sansa, waiting for her to explain.

“Arya was here, with the butcher’s boy and Nymeria. She attacked the Prince out of nowhere!” she said.

“Where is she? Where is your sister?”

“I don’t know, she ran. That way!” Sansa said, pointing in the Direction Ned came from. He ventured into the forest, trying to find his youngest daughter. Nothing made sense, Nymeria had never attacked anybody, but still, he needed to find Arya and make sure she was safe. Her involvement in the Prince’s injury would not go unpunished. Soon, the forest was full of soldiers, searching for her, trying to capture her and her wolf.

By nightfall, Ned was so worried, he feared he would never see her again. He didn’t dare think about what could have happened to her to make her run for so long, to make her hide; or had someone found her and killed her for such a silly offence? If they were under Cersei's orders, he did not doubt it.

“Lord Stark!” said one of Robert's guards. “They found her!”

Ned let out a sigh of relief and followed the man back to the biggest tavern in town. As he walked in, he knew the fight was not over. The place was packed to the brim with people watching the spectacle. Arya was held by two guards while Robert and Cersei sat at the dais waiting for him.

“What is the meaning of this? Release my daughter!”

Robert nodded at the guards. “I didn’t mean to scare the girl,” he said in a dismissive tone.

Arya pulled her arms free and came to stand with her father.

“What happened?” Robert demanded.

“I was playing with Mikah, we were fighting and he tried to hit him!” Arya said, pointing to Joffrey.

“That is a lie! I defended you from the boy!” The Prince said, his sickly pale face twisting in disgust.

“You did not! And then you attacked me! That is why Nymeria bit you!”

“Lies again!” Joffrey yelled, already turning red with anger. “That beast is wild and needs to be put down!”

“Where is your other daughter?” asked Cersei.

“In bed, sleeping,” Ned said, hoping to spare Sansa from this.

“Sansa!” Cersei called.

The crowd parted and in came Sansa, wearing the blue dress she had made herself in Winterfell but she had a velvet cloak on her shoulders. A clear gift from the Lannisters.

“Can you tell us what happened, little dove?”

“Prince Joffrey and I were walking by the river and he tried to save Arya but Nymeria attacked him,” Sansa said, tears falling from her eyes.

“If I may, Your Grace. It seems this is a quarrel between children. I would like to discipline my daughters myself.”

Robert nodded and got up from his chair with a huff. Ned put an arm around each of his daughters and made his way to the back of the room.

“What about the wolf?” Cersei asked. “My son was attacked!”

Robert looked around. “We haven’t found it, Your Grace.”

“Well, that’s it then.”

“But there’s another wolf!” said Cersei.

“No! Not Lady!” yelled Sansa, bursting into tears.

“You shouldn’t keep them as pets,” Cersei smiled.

“Very well. A wolf is a wolf.” Robert said.

“No, Please!” Cried Sansa.

“Lady did nothing wrong!” Arya joined her.

Robert’s head hung as he strode to the exit.

“Is this your will, Your Grace?” Ned yelled after him. Robert froze for a moment but kept walking without a backwards glance.

One of the guards unsheathed his sword and Ned grabbed his wrist. “No, if it must be done, I’ll do it myself. Lady is from the North and she deserves to die with dignity.”

“No, Father please! Please!” Sansa cried.

“Take them inside,” Ned said, speaking to Septa Mordane. Then, he turned on his heels and exited the tavern. He found Lady tied to a pole right outside and ran his fingers through her fur, giving her a last goodbye. She did not deserve such a cruel fate.

With sorrow in his heart, he drew his sword and with a swing, Lady was no more. He turned away and let a tear fall before quickly rubbing it away. He walked back to the inn, crossing Sandor Clegane on the road.

“Is that the butcher’s boy? Did he run?” Ned asked.

“Not fast enough,” Clegane said.

It was then that he realised that the boy was dead. That was the day his daughters’ childhood ended, but they would live to see another day when others had not been so lucky.

The rest of the trip to King’s Landing went by quickly but not fast enough. He made sure to have Winterfell’s bannermen and carriage at the back and to guard it with his life. Ned knew coming to the capital would be hard and dangerous, but not how much exactly.

A guard approached them right as they crossed the gate. “Lord Stark, welcome to King’s Landing. Grand Maester Pycelle requires your presence in the small council meeting.”

“We just arrived,” Ned said.

The guard looked at him. It was clear that the invitation was not one he would be allowed to decline.

“Very well,” Ned said, turning to the Septa. “Please help the girls settle in. I’ll be back by supper.” Then, he looked at one of Winterfell’s finer warriors and said: “Jory, go with them.” Ned knew that if anything happened, Jory would defend the girls with his life.

He dismounted his horse and strode to the Red Keep. As soon as he entered the Throne room, he saw Jaime Lannister sitting on the steps of the raised dais.

“Thank the Gods you are here Stark. We’ve been in need of stern northern leadership.”

“Glad to see you protecting the throne,” Ned said.

“Sturdy old thing. How many king’s asses has it polished? I wonder. And - what’s the line? ‘ The king shits and the hand wipes ’?”

Ned looked at him, not a hair out of place, not a stain on his cloak. A man without honour that spent his days enjoying the fruit of breaking his vows. “What a handsome armour, not a scratch on it.”

“People have been swinging at me for years.”

“Chosen your opponents wisely.”

Jaime nodded. “I have a knack for it.” He looked down at the floor and back at Ned. “It must be difficult for you to come here, I was here when it happened. He was very brave, your brother - your father too. He didn’t deserve to die like that - nobody deserves to die like that.”

“You just stood there and watched”

“Five hundred men just stood there and watched. Do you think any of the great knights of the seven kingdoms said a word or lifted a finger? No, Lord Stark. Five hundred men and this room was silent as a crypt. Except - for the screams, of course. And the man king’s laughter. And later, when I watched the Mad King die, I remembered him laughing as your father burned. It felt like justice.”

“Is that what you tell yourself? That you avenged my father when you shoved your sword into Aerys Targaryen’s back?”

“If I’d stabbed the Mad King in the belly, instead of the back, would you admire me more?”

“You served him well when serving was safe,” Ned said and walked past him in the direction of the council meeting chamber. One of the king’s guards nodded at him as he entered and shut the door after him.

Lord Varys stood from his chair and rushed to him, holding Ned’s hand between his own. “Lord Stark. I was sorry to hear about the trouble you had in the Kingsroad. I pray for Prince Joffrey’s full recovery.”

Ned resisted the urge to huff. “You should pray for the butcher’s boy instead.”

He approached the table and greeted the rest of the small Council. First, he pulled Renly Baratheon into a tight hug; it had been so many years since they’d seen each other that he was now a respectable man instead of a boy with a reputation for chasing other men around as a form of entertainment. He had dark curly hair and a soft face still, but the leather armour suited him, even if he was not as tall and strong as Robert had been at his age. “Renly, you're looking well! How are you faring?”

“Much better now that you are here, Lord Stark,” Renly said with a wide smile before stepping away and looking at him. “You look tired from the trip. I told them this meeting could wait another day, but they disagreed.”

The door opened and Petyr Baelish walked in, looking just as proud of himself as Ned had imagined him from the stories he’d heard. Long coat, short hair, trimmed moustache. He stood with his hands behind his back, making his chest look more prominent, probably to appear more muscular than he was, the master of coin pin shining on his shoulder.

“I have wanted to meet you for a long time, Lord Stark. No doubt Catelyn has mentioned me.”

Yes, Cat had mentioned Petyr Baelish, her childhood friend who was an apprentice under her father and this silly little propensity he’d had for pursuing her, even after she’d been engaged to marry Brandon. The man’s outburst was out of place but Ned had won Cat without even having to fight him; there was no need to give him the pleasure of starting an argument on his first day at the capital.

“She has, Lord Baelish. I understand you knew my brother Brandon as well.”

“All too well, I still carry a token of his esteem, from navel to collarbone,” Baelish said, running his fingers over his coat in the expanse of his scar.

Ned smiled, that was so much like his brother, may the gods keep him. “Perhaps you chose the wrong men to duel with.”

“It was not the man that I chose, My Lord. It was Catelyn Tully.”

“Pardon me,” A voice close to his shoulder said.

“Grand Maester Pycelle,” Ned said, nodding once.

“How many years has it been? You were a young boy!”

“And you served another king.”

The old man looked at him briefly before reaching into his robes. “Oh, I forgot. This is yours,” he said, giving him a brass pin shaped like a hand holding the crown gently.

Ned accepted it, rubbing the aged-looking pin between his fingers. Jon Arryn had worn it last, devoted himself to helping Robert and now he was dead. He tried to push the memories of his arrival to The Eyrie as a child and befriending Robert, growing and learning everything he knew under Jon’s care away; it would serve no purpose to lose his head over the matter. He would see to it that the Lannisters were brought to justice for it in due time.

“We should begin.”

Ned walked over to the table and stood beside a chair in the middle of it. “Shouldn’t we wait for Robert?”

Grand Maester Pycelle stammered. “W-well - the King doesn’t always join the small council meetings.”

“Winter might be coming but the same cannot be said for my brother,” Renly said, sitting at his side.

“His Grace has many cares. He entrusts some small matters to us,” Varys rushed to say.

Ned looked at them in awe. He could not believe Robert would be so careless.

“We are the Lords of small matters here,” Baelish added with a smirk.

Ned sat down and accepted a piece of rolled parchment from Renly with Robert's seal.

“My brother instructs us to hold a tournament in honour of Lord Stark’s appointment as Hand of the King.”

Baelish leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. “How much?”

Ned read the details from the parchment. “Forty thousand dragon gold to the winner, twenty thousand to the runner up, twenty thousand to the winning archer.”

Grand Maester Pycelle hummed. “Can the crown bear such expense,” he asked Baelish.

“I will have to borrow the money from the Lannisters. We already owe Lord Tywin three million gold, what’s another eighty thousand?”

Ned’s eyes widened. “Are you saying the crown is three million in debt?”

“I’m telling you that the crown is six million in debt,” Baelish said without a hint of remorse.

Looking around the table, Ned tried to control his anger, his bewilderment. “How could you have let this happen?”

“The master of coin finds the money, the Hand spends it.”

Ned could feel the vein on his forehead throb at that remark. “There is no way John Arryn would have allowed Robert to Bankrupt the crown.”

“Lord Arryn gave great wise and prudent advice,” Pycelle said. “But I fear His Grace doesn’t always listen.”

“Counting coppers, he calls it,” Renly added.

“I will speak to him tomorrow, this cannot continue.”

“Very well, but we must still make plans,” Baelish said.

“There will be no plans!” Ned said, raising his voice. “Until I speak to Robert.” The room fell immediately silent. He rubbed his face in an attempt to keep the headache he felt forming at bay. “Forgive me, My Lords. I had a long ride.”

Varys finally spoke up. “You are the Hand, we serve at your will.”

Embarrassed by his outburst and frustrated by the state of matters, Ned called the meeting to a close and went in search of his daughters.

The moment he set foot in the room, he knew something was not right. Sansa looked upset and her Septa was patting her hand in comfort.

“What happened?” He asked. “Where is Arya?”

“She excused herself without finishing her meal,” the woman said. “The girls had a disagreement.”

They never got along, not since they were born. Both were very different and set in their ways without any consideration for the other. Ned set the present on the table beside Sansa in hopes of cheering her up.

“What’s this?”

“That’s for you, love,” he said, attempting an encouraging smile. “Open it.”

Sansa wiped her teary eyes and pulled the twine wrapping the silk cloth to reveal an expensive porcelain doll. Her face transformed from sadness to anger, outrage perhaps.

“Don’t you like it? It was made by the same craftsmen that make Princess Myrcella’s toys.”

“I haven’t played with dolls since I was eight.” Sansa stood smoothing her dress down. “May I be excused?”

“But you haven’t finished eating yet,” Septa Mordane said.

Ned sighed. “Of course,” he said and watched her rush into her private chamber and shut the door behind her. He turned to the Septa. “Please, try to enjoy the rest of your meal and bring her food later.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

His girls were already having a horrible time at the capital and they had just arrived. This entire trip had turned into a nightmare. He understood Sansa's enchantment with Prince Joffrey; she had suffered greatly with Lady’s death and was trying to hold onto a brighter future as his Queen but he was not turning out to be the brave King she’d hoped for, and now her father had made the mistake and treated her like a small child when she felt like a young Lady already.

He let out a deep sigh and walked to the opposite side of the room, knocking on Arya’s private chamber, hoping to speak to her. There was no response, but after a brief pause, she pulled the door open and stepped aside, letting him in. She had a very light sword in her hand, a thin blade but appropriately sized for her.

“Whose is that?” He asked calmly, already suspecting her reply.

“Mine!” She said, trying to put it behind her back. “It’s called Needle.”

“A blade with a name, I see.” Ned extended his hand and waited until she reluctantly gave him the sword. “I know the craftsmanship, it was made in Winterfell. How did you get it?”

Arya hesitated. “I - it is mine! You cannot have it!”

He sighed and closed the door behind him, finally returning the sword to her and sitting at the small table in the corner. “What will you do with it?”

“Use it.” She said, crossing her arms.

“On who? Your sister?”

“I should! She is responsible for Mikah’s death! And for Lady’s! And Nymeria running away!”

“That was not her fault and she suffered for it too.”

“But she lied! She saw what happened and let Joffrey lie! I hate her!”

“Arya, your sister was in a very different position. She was called by the Queen and questioned. She couldn’t have called the Prince a liar in front of his family, in front of everyone present. When they become Kings and Princes and Queens they can rewrite the truth and pointing such things out could be extremely dangerous. Your sister is not your enemy. One day you will marry a man and become a Lady and you will understand,” he explained.

“I am not a Lady, I will never be a Lady.” Arya sniffled. “It’s not fair! I hate them. I hate all of them! But I - I don’t hate Sansa.” She rubbed her cheek, pretending that no tears had fallen.

Of course, he should have known. Arya had never displayed the same interests as Sansa. “It’s true. It is not fair, life is not fair at times, but we must make the best of it. Try to fight for what is right.”

“I am not a good fighter yet, but I am practising.” She said, looking at her sword.

Ned considered it for a moment. Perhaps it would not be bad for her to know how to protect herself and Sansa. “King’s Landing is a very dangerous place. You will learn to use it, starting tomorrow. You are a Stark of Winterfell, we are warriors - all of us in our own way.”

“Thank you!” she said, running to hug him.

He approached the table where his friend was already drinking wine and cursing loud enough to be heard all through the seven kingdoms.

“Why do I even bother hiring killers when they can’t even find a stupid little girl!?”

“I see that you have opened the wine early, Your Grace,” Ned said, raising his eyebrows at him with an amused smile.

“It’s that Targaryen WHORE married a Dothraki Khal and they are trying to gather an army to retake the throne!”

“She’s in Essos and has no power, let her be. She was a babe when her father died.”

“Doesn’t matter, Ned! She will soon be popping little Targaryen bastards that will come to take the throne from me!”

“How would they possibly come?”

“They are gathering forces! They have a thousand Dothraki riders!”

“They have an army in Essos and no ships. They are no threat to you.”

“What if they get ships?” Robert grumbled.

“Then, we’ll crush them. All of Westeros will unite to fight them.”

“You forget that many called me a usurper, and many still think that way.”

Ned shook his head. “Not anymore, you have won the heart of your subjects.”

“No - I don’t think I have. But at least they are not afraid that I may burn them alive.”

Lady chose that moment to put Robert’s hand in her mouth and chew on his fingers softly.

“Oh, you little beast,” he said with an amused smile. “What are you doing?”

“She just wants some royal pets.”

Robert laughed, downing his glass of wine and patted his lap, letting her climb on him as he scratched her fur.

There was a scream in the distance; it sounded like Joffrey. Ned stood and looked around.

“Oh, what now?” Robert huffed, already in a bad mood again.

“What happened!?”

“That beast! It attacked me!” He wailed.

Ned looked to Sansa, waiting for her to explain.

“Arya was here, with the butcher’s boy and Nymeria. She attacked the Prince out of nowhere!” she said.

“Where is she? Where is your sister?”

“Lord Stark!” said one of Robert's guards. “They found her!”

“What is the meaning of this? Release my daughter!”

Robert nodded at the guards. “I didn’t mean to scare the girl,” he said in a dismissive tone.

Arya pulled her arms free and came to stand with her father.

“What happened?” Robert demanded.

“I was playing with Mikah, we were fighting and he tried to hit him!” Arya said, pointing to Joffrey.

“That is a lie! I defended you from the boy!” The Prince said, his sickly pale face twisting in disgust.

“You did not! And then you attacked me! That is why Nymeria bit you!”

“Lies again!” Joffrey yelled, already turning red with anger. “That beast is wild and needs to be put down!”

“Where is your other daughter?” asked Cersei.

“In bed, sleeping,” Ned said, hoping to spare Sansa from this.

“Sansa!” Cersei called.

The crowd parted and in came Sansa, wearing the blue dress she had made herself in Winterfell but she had a velvet cloak on her shoulders. A clear gift from the Lannisters.

“Can you tell us what happened, little dove?”

“Prince Joffrey and I were walking by the river and he tried to save Arya but Nymeria attacked him,” Sansa said, tears falling from her eyes.

“If I may, Your Grace. It seems this is a quarrel between children. I would like to discipline my daughters myself.”

Robert nodded and got up from his chair with a huff. Ned put an arm around each of his daughters and made his way to the back of the room.

“What about the wolf?” Cersei asked. “My son was attacked!”

Robert looked around. “We haven’t found it, Your Grace.”

“Well, that’s it then.”

“But there’s another wolf!” said Cersei.

“No! Not Lady!” yelled Sansa, bursting into tears.

“You shouldn’t keep them as pets,” Cersei smiled.

“Very well. A wolf is a wolf.” Robert said.

“No, Please!” Cried Sansa.

“Lady did nothing wrong!” Arya joined her.

Robert’s head hung as he strode to the exit.

“Is this your will, Your Grace?” Ned yelled after him. Robert froze for a moment but kept walking without a backwards glance.

One of the guards unsheathed his sword and Ned grabbed his wrist. “No, if it must be done, I’ll do it myself. Lady is from the North and she deserves to die with dignity.”

“No, Father please! Please!” Sansa cried.

“Is that the butcher’s boy? Did he run?” Ned asked.

“Not fast enough,” Clegane said.

It was then that he realised that the boy was dead. That was the day his daughters’ childhood ended, but they would live to see another day when others had not been so lucky.

---

A guard approached them right as they crossed the gate. “Lord Stark, welcome to King’s Landing. Grand Maester Pycelle requires your presence in the small council meeting.”

“We just arrived,” Ned said.

The guard looked at him. It was clear that the invitation was not one he would be allowed to decline.

He dismounted his horse and strode to the Red Keep. As soon as he entered the Throne room, he saw Jaime Lannister sitting on the steps of the raised dais.

“Thank the Gods you are here Stark. We’ve been in need of stern northern leadership.”

“Glad to see you protecting the throne,” Ned said.

“Sturdy old thing. How many king’s asses has it polished? I wonder. And - what’s the line? ‘The king shits and the hand wipes’?”