Intro: My inspiration for this piece comes from a nap I took the other day. I was feeling especially anxious and was curled in my bed, trying to take a nap, my arms wrapped around my pillow. You know those pillows that have like arms and are meant to act as like a back rest for when you are sitting on your bed? Yeah I had my arms wrapped around one of the arms and I thought it felt weird (yet very comfortable), like I had my arms wrapped around someone’s leg…. and voila! You will see what I mean when you read this.
Pairing: Bones x Reader (I promise more Kirk x reader to come!)
Word Count: 1904
Triggers: Fluff, awkwardness, nothing else
Summary: So basically the preface for this story is that Bones and the reader are classmates at the Academy and have become really close friends, studying together all the time. The reader secretly loves Bones, but doesn’t say anything lest he not return the feelings and it ruins the friendship (yes very overdone plotline I know). But one day it all changes…
You felt warm and cozy as you pulled your pillow closer to your face, your arms wrapped around it tightly. Snuggling your face into it you recoiled at the harsh texture of the material digging into your skin. Lifting your head from the bed, you squinted your eyes against the light of the beside lamp and looked around, your eyes landing on a figure lying in the bed beside you.
It was your best friend and fellow future doctor, Leonard, sitting slightly propped up against the headboard, a book in his hand. He noticed you stirring and dropped the book a little, giving you a small smile.
“Good morning, princess.” He teased and you could only squint up at him.
It was in that moment that you realized that it was not a pillow that you had your arms wrapped around and face pressed against; it was Leonard’s jean-clad leg. You froze in embarrassment, your eyes fully opening now as you realized the intimacy of your position. You had your shins pressed up against the headboard, your knees at a 90 degree angle, and were laying on your side, the front of your body pressed against Leonard, your head near his knees and your arms wrapped around his thigh. Only when you shifted did you realize that he had draped an arm over the back of your thighs, his hand resting on the bed just beside your butt.
You rolled over, quickly pulling yourself from the intimate embrace and sat at the edge of the bed, your cheeks flaming in embarrassment and from the feeling of his arm draped against the bare skin of your thighs. You took in a couple of shaky breaths before turning to face him, pulling your knees to your chest protectively.
“How long was I asleep?” You asked, and rubbed at the sleep in your eyes.
“6 or 7 hours.” Leonard responded non-chalantly, looking especially charming in his black-rimmed reading glasses.
“7 HOURS!” You yelped in disbelief and looked at the clock, it was true, it was 7 hours later.
You had come into Leonard’s quarters to study with him for the upcoming exam on alien anatomy, and had studied successfully for a few hours before you decided to do some independent reading. You had lain down on your stomach beside him, your face propped up on your elbows, reading, your eyes getting heavy as the words blurred together, and you must have fallen asleep using Leonard as a pillow.
“I’ll bargain with you.”
Anti’s spine shivered with those words. The taste of your lips still warmed his tongue. He relished the flavor. The chills that coursed through him as you remembered. His strength growing as the memories solidified in your mind. Yes, yes. You will accept him soon. When you remember the times between you, the spark that you felt. He’ll become powerful enough to consume Sean and completely erase his memory from your reality. There won’t be any more excuses. Anymore barriers. There will just be you and him.
“Let’s here it then, sugar-lips.” He said, leaning forward. Oh, how he wanted to taste you again. You went to speak, but a knock at the front door cut you off. Anti hissed angrily and he disappeared in a cloud of smoke, reappearing at the front door. He threw it open with a snarl, “What?” The man behind it jerked back in surprise. Anti recognized him. He was your neighbor, one of the few that had stopped you on the side-walk to introduce himself. Anti hadn’t liked him then, and very surely hated him now. “S-Sorry to disturb you,” The man said, straightening. “But I heard some loud noises coming from the house and I wanted to make sure everything was ok.” Anti heard you barreling towards the front door. His fists clenched when you wormed your way in front of him, putting yourself between him and the neighbor. “Zac, it’s nice to see you,” You greeted the man with a shaky smile. “Sorry if we were being loud. Sean gets angry easily at video games.” The man, Zac, looked doubtful as he looked at you, then at Anti. Anti has seen this look before. Though humans were ignorant of his existence, they could sense that he was wrong. He didn’t fit into this world.
“Are you sure nothing…else was going on,” Zac said, deliberately talking to you. Ignoring Anti’s glowering stare. “Of course, I promise.” You tried. But Zac didn’t accept it. His eyes turned to Anti, setting off an already burning fuse. “I hope for your sake you’re keeping your hands off this woman,” Zac said, his jaw clenched and his stare set. “For my sake?” Anti challenged with a cackle. “Anti, wait-” “It’s not (Y/N) you should be afraid for.” Anti’s hands gripped the man’s shoulders, yanking him into the house. “It’s you that should be terrified!” You launched yourself at Anti, your hands just finding purchase on his shirt as he and Zac disappeared into smoke. You were thrown around like a rag-doll. Weightless amongst the swirling black. Suddenly, you felt Anti’s shirt tear from your grip and you fell into an abyss. You fell for what felt like ages, the world shifted and jittered around you. As if you were staring through a static TV. You mind began to throb. A ringing roared in your ears and you screamed in pain. Invisible claws raked your skin, battering you around the static darkness. You felt your consciousness slipping. Your body kept falling but somehow you were floating, staring down as it fell. Then, you felt a hand snag your wrist and you were jerked into light. You collapsed against a hard chest and arms wrapped around your body.
Anti held your trembling form. You were cold, icy to touch and your gaze was staring, emotionless. He had left you behind in the void. The dimension that allows him to travel between spaces. Anti cursed himself, but his anger fueled whatever compassion that wormed into his mind away. “You idiot!” He snarled. “People like you aren’t meant to follow me!” Your mind was returning to you. Following the path he had laid out for it, back into your body. His words swarm in your head, barely making sense. You tried to speak, but your tongue was too heavy. Look what you did you monster! Sean screamed inside his head. She almost ceased to exist in that cursed place of yours! How could she forgive you after that? What do you think she’ll think of you now? Anti pushed back the insect in his mind. Gently caressing the (Y/H/C) strands. What did he care what you thought of him? He shouldn’t need your approval.
But that’s the problem isn’t it? A quieter voice whispered. You want their approval. You care.
Anti’s hands shook. His eyes glowing. Since when did he care? Why did he care? Sean. That pest in his head. His emotions. His memories swamped Anti’s own, mixing with his ambitions of freedom, of destruction. You were the center of everything. The reason Anti lived. The reason he even had thoughts! Should he be grateful? But why? You may have given him life, but only through pain, suffering, loneliness. Why would anyone be grateful for life through torment?
You stirred in Anti’s arms. Your body felt heavy and your vision blurred. “I was confused.” Anti said, his voice low. “When we were young, I didn’t know what I was. What I was feeling. You kept the loneliness away, so I clung to you. Like a drowning man to a life-raft.” You looked up at him, his eyes were bright green. Wisps of smoke trailed from the corners of his eyes. “And when you left, I grew stronger. I was able to think and form my own memories. I pushed Sean aside, fighting for the drivers seat. And just as I finally managed to take control, you come in and destroy everything.” You felt the arms around you draw you closer, his hands gripping you painfully tight. “I lost control. I was so over-come by Sean’s happiness to see you, that we got mixed.” His lips curled. “I felt his love for you, not my own!” Anti shoved you across the room. The strength in his movement sending you crashing against the wall. “I thought I was feeling something,” Anti continued, getting to his feet. “I thought you were bringing something else out of me. But you were only drawing Sean back!” Before you could move, Anti rushed forward, his hand finding your throat and squeezing. “I should never have believed I was anything but this!” Anti cackled. His head jittering and his voice high-pitched. “I now understand that I am only a monster!” You tried to speak, but black dots started to form in your eyes and you gasped for breath. You clawed at Anti’s arm, trying to loosen his grip.
Stop it! Sean screamed. Please! Stop! I’ll do anything! “It’s too late now, Seany-boy.” Anti sang. “I want her dead. And nothing you say will change it!” I’ll give myself up! Please just let them go! Anti loosened his grip, enough to allow you to breath. “Oh? What did you say?” I’ll give you control. Sean said, his voice defeated. I’ll let you have this body. I won’t fight you, only if you leave (Y/N) be. Anti looked at you. He still had you suspended in the air by your neck. Your eyes were wide, your face red and you chest heaved in air. “Hmm, it’s a tempting offer, Sean.” Anti almost purred. “But they deceived me, almost had me believin’’ I had feelings.” Anti, listen to my voice. You know you want this, full control over my body. To throw me away. You can do that. I’ll let you, as long as you leave them! Anti clicked his tongue, rolling the taste of you through his mouth again. That was one thing he enjoyed about all this. “Alright then.” Anti dropped you. You crumpled to your knees, coughing and spluttering. Your throat burned. “Anti…” You tried to speak, “Sean…please,” Anti crouched in front of you, his eyes excited. “Now, now (Y/N) don’t be upset. Sean has given himself up for you. You don’t want his last memory of you to be that little frown would you?” You turned your gaze up to him. Glaring, “No, no you can’t have him.” “I’m sorry, (Y/N)” Sean said. He lifted his hand to wipe a stray tear that slipping from your eyes. “I couldn’t let him kill you.” “But…what will happen to you?” You asked. More tears rolled down your face, spilling down your cheeks like rivers. Sean tried to smile, but his eyes were misty. “I don’t know. Don’t think about it, please. You need to forget about me now.” You shook your head, reaching for him. “No!” “Too late, (Y/N)!” Anti slapped away your hand. Standing over you with a wide grin. “It was fun while it lasted, but it’s time to terrorize some other unfortunate soul.” “Anti! Please, let me say goodbye!” You pleaded but Anti was already walking towards the door. He turned, taking a photo from the table. “Here! Say goodbye to this!” The frame shattered as it hit the floor in front of you. You picked up the picture inside, flinching as Anti slammed the door as he left.
You stared down at the photo of you and Sean. The last day before you left. Misty eyes but wide smiles. Faces so happy but wrecked with grief. You wiped away your tears, touching the man’s face in the photo. “I don’t remember this,” You said confused. “Who are you?”
(Ta-da! The end! Do you feel like killing me over that ending? I quite enjoyed it!)
Overall Summary: Moriarty teases Sherlock because he slept with you. Sherlock’s little sister.
In this chapter: Sherlock confronts you on Moriarty which erupts a flood of memories to how it got to this moment.
Word count: 1,736
Warnings: None really, some hints of smut
“Honestly (Y/n), out of everysingleperson on this entire planet you had to go for him! The man who tried to blow me and your brother up! The one who want us dead!” John threw his arms up in the air as he paced in front of you. You stared blankly at the wall behind him, you knew something like this would happen if they ever found out about your love life.
“Technically, he only wants Sherlock dead.” You corrected him.
Summary: Reader and Loki hate each other but eventually end up sleeping together (Requested by anon)
Notes: This is definitely kind of AU as I couldn’t think of a canon scenario that would work with this request
You had just woken up, eyelids heavy, mind blurred. Having just put the kettle on, you leaned against the counter, looking out the window of Stark tower.
There was a deep laugh from behind you, “And here I was thinking that maybe I had managed to miss you this morning.”
Rolling your eyes, you turned to see Loki, the prisoner of Stark tower since he would be executed if he went back to Asgard. Personally, you didn’t think that was such a bad thing.
“Likewise.” You said, meeting his steely gaze with your own.
“You’re the one who is capable of leaving this tower, so by all means.” Loki gestured towards the door, causing you to laugh bitterly.
“Nice try but I can’t leave you here on your own.”
“They left us here on our own. Do you really think they trust us?” Loki took a step towards you, causing you to lean further back against the counter.
“I am the god of mischief after all.” He murmured, a smirk pulling at his lips.
You laughed, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.
“Again, nice try. I hate you,” You stepped around Loki to the cabinet, “You hate me, they know that.”
“At the very least they should be worried that we might kill each other.”
“Trust me,” You grabbed a mug from the cupboard, “I got the lecture. You killing me however? I really don’t think you’re capable without your powers.” You smirked, turning around to find Loki towering over you.
“Is that so?” He whispered, his words felt against your forehead.
You swallowed, “Yes, it is.”
Neither of you moved, the tension between you building. The kettle suddenly whistled and the tension was shattered.
You took the opportunity to step away, pouring the boiling water into your mug and adding coffee crystals.
Suddenly, two hands were placed on your waist and you felt Loki’s warm breath on your ear.
“You say we hate each other?”
“Oh, yes.” You nodded, trying to ignore him although you didn’t know how much longer you could last.
Loki’s lips moved closer to your skin, brushing gently. You wanted him to kiss you, to close the feather touch, make it concrete.
“I do hate some things about you.” He admitted, snapping you out of your imagination.
“You’ve never allowed me this close before. Is it because we are alone? Are you really so concerned with the opinions of Earth’s mightiest heroes?”
You suddenly turned around, pinning Loki against the cupboard, “Shut up.”
Loki smirked, a deep chuckle falling from his lips. “My pleasure.”
He pressed his lips to yours, gentle then fierce and passionate. Moving you backwards, so you were the one pressed against the wall.
Your hands in his hair, pulling his lips closer to yours.
Loki pulled away, a grin in replace of your lips on his. “I thought you hated me.” He teased.
He laughed, crashing his lips back to yours and lifting you up so you were at his height. He sat you on the counter then moved towards the bedroom. You could barely get there before all your clothes were off.
When both of you were thoroughly satisfied, Loki fell back beside you, barely out of breath while you were struggling to breathe.
“Never forget I am a demigod, (Y/n). Do not feel insignificant.”
You nodded, resting your head back.
“Though you are.” Loki added, smirking.
You swung the pillow around to smack him in the face but he caught it, laughing.
“Sleeping with the prisoner. Is that a new one for you?” Loki teased, propping himself up on his elbows.
“There’s a first for everything.”
“Indeed there is.”
A few seconds of silence hung in the air before you both said it at the same time.
“I still hate you.”
A small glance was shared between the two of you before Loki rolled over onto you, lips on yours, hands on your waist, yours in his hair and on his chest.
Note: You’re a Lieutenant for the First Order and have been tasked with your first solo mission. When a surprise ambush leaves you critically injured, you’re rushed back to base. But Kylo is devastated to discover that you can’t remember your life together.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kylo asked you, taking his hands in yours.
You had never heard him so nervous, even with his helmet modulating his voice. You were standing on the floor of hangar, ready to board your TIE Fighter.
“I’ll be fine, Kylo,” You smiled at him, “And I’ll be back before you know it.”
“I just wish you weren’t going on a solo mission, Y/N. The thought of you getting hurt, or– or worse…” He trailed off and you could see the worry in his eyes.
You frowned, “You’re the Commander of the First Order, surely you’ll find something to keep yourself occupied while I’m gone.”
He shrugged, “I had the Fighter fitted with new tracking equipment– just for your mission. I’ll be able to know where you are at all times, so if there are any problems–”
“–Which there won’t be,“ you interrupted him, running a hand gently down the side of his helmet, “I’ll come back to you, Kylo. I always will, and that’s a promise,” You said before hugging him tightly, “See you soon, okay?”
He nodded his head, taking his helmet off swiftly, “Take care of yourself out there, Y/N. I love you.”
“I love you too, Kylo,” You pressed your lips to his gently before Kylo helped you climb into the starship.
You sat down, flipping the controls on the console before putting your own helmet on, you turned to Kylo and waved goodbye, laughing as he did the same– After all, it wasn’t everyday that Kylo Ren offered someone a wave.
You exhaled slowly, you would only be gone a week– sooner if everything went according to plan. Okay, Y/N. You can do this, You told yourself before readying to take off.
Three days later
“We need to get to the infirmary now. Someone fetch the Commander, he’ll want to know Y/N is back.” A member of the rescue team said as they helped wheel you along in the stretcher.
Just days in, your mission had been compromised by a surprise ambush by the Resistance. You had been badly hurt in the process but the First Order had organised a rescue team to quickly retrieve you.
Now that you were back on base, you could be treated properly.
You felt your eyelids growing heavy as blurs of lights, sounds and people swirled through your head. You didn’t know what was happening, but you knew you were safe at home now.
“Don’t worry, Y/N, someone is sending for Commander Ren now,” A lady told you kindly as you were wheeled into a room.
The Commander? Why was he coming? Perhaps you were due for a scolding after all the damage you had caused to the TIE Fighter during the attack.
You were transferred to an infirmary bed and some blood samples had been taken. About thirty minutes had passed when you heard the scurrying of footsteps in the hallway.
By this time, your wounds had been treated and a thick bandage placed around your forehead.
“Y/N? Oh Y/N, you’re alive,” A man breathed a sigh of relief as he ran into the room, rushing to your bed. The medics in the room quickly ushered out– almost in fear.
He cupped your cheek with a soft hand and leaned down to kiss your forehead, “The fools wouldn’t let me in until now, I’ve been waiting outside the whole time… They said they didn’t know if you would make the journey back to base,” He said sadly.
You raised an eyebrow, who was this man meant to be? Why did he seem so concerned that you, a perfect stranger, were alive?
“Um, Commander Ren– Sir, there’s something we need to tell you first–” One nurse who had remained in the room cautioned the man.
Commander Ren? You looked back at the man curiously. He was dressed like the Commander. From the robes to the lightsaber on his waist… But not the helmet. You had never seen the Commander without his helmet– you doubted many actually had. This was clearly why you didn’t recognise the man.
He grabbed your hand and entwined it through his, and used the other to wave away the nurse, “Tell me later,” He said dismissively, not taking his eyes of you.
Was this some sort of joke? No. The Commander didn’t seem like one to joke, much less with a lieutenant like yourself, who you doubted he even knew existed before today.
Commander. There it was again.
You cleared your throat, “C-Commander? Are you here to tell me off for crashing one of your TIE Fighters?” You finally addressed him.
He looked taken aback, “Tell you off?“ He huffed, “Even in this condition, you’re making jokes,” He smiled as he reached down again. As his face grew nearer to yours you anticipated what he was about to do.
Eyes widening, you pushed him away with as much strength as your bruised hands could muster, “Stop it!”
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
You were irritated now, “Sweetheart? I don’t care if you’re the Commander of the First Order, what gives you the right to go around kissing absolute strangers?!” You weren’t entirely sure where your rage came from. You had decided it was the pain medication you were undoubtedly highly dosed up on.
“Actually, Commander, that’s what we needed to talk to you about,” The nurse said before the Commander could reply to you, “The head injuries Y/N sustained were near fatal, as a result there are…gaps in her memory,” She said finally, “B-but we don’t know if this is permanent or not,” She added, sounding hopeful.
"You mean she doesn’t…” The Commander trailed off as he looked between you and the nurse for a few moments before finally resting his eyes on you. “Do you know who I am?”
“Th-The Commander of the First Order… Sir,” you managed to say. All this commotion and confusion surely wasn’t good for your recently injured head.
You almost teared up at the sight of the man before you, who looked as if he had just heard the worst news in the entire galaxy. Who exactly were you to him?
“You don’t… You don’t remember us, do you Y/N?” He managed to say, you could hear the devastation in his voice.
You bowed your head as you shook it, “Us?“ You were unsure what exactly he meant by that, "I don’t, I’m sorry,” You looked up to see his eyes welling with tears.
Were you meant to comfort him? You were still hesitant to even address the Commander, let alone reach out and touch him.
“Here, sit down, I’ll leave you two to talk,” the nurse said, offering the Commander a chair next to your bed.
He sat down and looked at you, his eyes searching for something, anything on your face that might hint at you recognising him.
"Did we… I mean, were– are we friends?– Commander,” you stumbled nervously.
He looked at you sadly, “Call me, Kylo, Y/N, I insist.” He was still trying to process it. How he could live in a world where you didn’t even know him? Didn’t know the life you had together or how much he cared for you? As far as you knew, you were just another Lieutenant in the First Order, and Kylo was your much higher superior. Your lives would never intersect and yet here he was, sitting beside you in the First Order’s infirmary.
“Kylo it is then… So were we, um, close?” You asked slowly, unsure of what to say to the man who looked heartbroken.
“You were– Y/N you are the love of my life.”
“Oh.” Your heart rate accelerated at those words, you clearly meant a lot to him.
“I told them not to let you go,“ He started, “I told them it was way too dangerous, and it was a solo mission! It’s a wonder you didn’t end up… Oh, doesn’t matter,” He said, looking up at you, “You’re home and you’re safe…But, b-but you don’t even remember me,” He said, breaking down in tears at the last sentence.
You didn’t know what to do and found yourself hovering your hand over his head, unsure of where to place it, “Um, you can stay in here if you want?” You asked, dubious as to why you were offering Kylo Ren to stay in your room in the first place. Something told you that it was the right thing to do.
He wiped his eyes and looked at you again, “I-I would like that. Thank you,” He couldn’t believe how careful he was being in the way he spoke to you.
Perhaps spending more time with you would help you remember who he was.
Several hours had passed and Kylo was wide awake, still sitting beside your bed.
His eyes were red and puffy and all he could do was be thankful that you had fallen asleep so as not to see him like this.
He watched the slow rises and falls of your chest– each new breath a promise that there was time to help you remember him. With the Force, he easily guided your dreams into ones of memories you two had shared, hoping that that would be enough.
Kylo moved his and hand and placed it on top of yours, tracing it with his thumb, “I need you to come back to me, Y/N,” He whispered, “Come back to me like you promised you would.” He said before gently pressing his lips to your hand.
Request: if you want to can you do one where bucky
visits you after you were saved from hydra because you were winter soldier as
well but bucky doesn’t know that? and he visits you and you tell him and the
memories cause you panic attack and bucky helps you to calm down so angst and
fluff please, thank you ily :3
A/N: I tried to write the panic attack part for ages,
but I just can’t describe how they feel. So, no panic attack, ‘just’ breaking
Hope u like this one x
Leaning your forehead
to the palm of your hand, you listened to the voice your breathing, trying your
hardest to keep it at a calm pace. Yet you were scared; trapped; kept behind
locked doors by people, who said that they were trying to help you. People, who
said that they didn’t mean to hurt you. But for some reason the handcuffs
around your left wrist, chaining you to your bed, didn’t convince you about
You raised your
head from your hands, as you heard the door of your room opening carefully,
allowing the brunet man to step in with slight frown on his face.
I take zero credit for the dialogue or characters. Those belong 100% to Sarah J. Maas.
Chapter 44, Starfall, from Rhys’ POV. BUT! I believe Starfall is for everyone, so there are some little extras tucked away in here too at the end that might involve a certain Shadowsinger and his favorite Blondie Bar. And don’t worry, Cass and Amren get some love too.
This fic is heavily inspired for me by a song I mentioned on the blog yesterday called “Lunacy Fringe” by the Used. You do not have to know the song to enjoy this fic, but if you give it a listen and pay attention to the lyrics, you might pick up on where I got some of the lines in this fic from. That song is everything I imagine Rhys pouring into Feyre from his heart while they dance on Starfall. It’s just - UGH, I can’t even explain. Just listen to it sometime and you’ll see.
Also, there are a few little lines in here that allude to my previous fic in which Rhys has a non-canon interaction with Mor. You don’t need to read it to understand this fic, but if you want extra analysis, it’s there for your perusal.
It took me precisely half an hour to stop actively trying to convince myself she hated me and open the door. As I stepped out onto the terrace and took in Velaris, I knew I’d made the right call by coming.
The city glowed under the soft lanterns that had been dimmed to accommodate the coming attractions. Music hummed celestial in every corner and smiles met me at every turn.
A/N: Requested by anon: Bucky X Reader, Hey, I’m with you okay? always. thanks :) I’m actually really proud of how this turned out, I hope you like it! tagging @writingbarnes, some Bucky fluff for you! Please note that english is not my first language so there might be grammar mistakes
Pairings: Bucky X Reader
Prompt: Bucky will be there for you when your nightmares are bad, knowing you’d do the same for him.. Fluff
Word count: 705
Your breathing got heavier as you tossed and turned around in your bed. Voices filling your head as you felt yourself drift into sleep. You grabbed the sides of your bedsheets as you tried to fight it. You knew this was going to be hard night. Soon you fell asleep and the nightmares started.
They were bad this time. Your body was drenching in sweat and your screams filled the room. Just about everyone must have woken up because of you by now. You tried to wake yourself up but you were unsuccessful. You heard a muffled voice saying your name.
Oneshot: You lose your memory during a mission and forget about your relationship with Luke
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Luke asked you nervously, taking his hands in yours. You were standing on the tarmac of the runway.
“I’ll be fine, Luke,” You smiled at him, “And I’ll be back before you know it.”
“I just wish you weren’t going on a solo mission, Y/N. The thought of you getting hurt, or– or worse…” He trailed off and you could see the worry in his eyes.
“I’ll come back to you, Luke. I always will, and that’s a promise,” You said before hugging him tightly, “See you soon, okay?”
He nodded his head, “Take care of yourself out there, Y/N. I love you,”
“I love you too, Luke,” You pressed your lips to his gently before Luke helped you climb into your starship.
You sat down, flipping the controls on the console before putting your helmet on, you turned to Luke and waved goodbye, laughing as he did the same. You exhaled slowly, you would only be gone a week– sooner if everything went according to plan. Okay, Y/N. You can do this, You told yourself before readying to take off.
Three days later
“We need to get Y/N to the infirmary, now. Someone fetch Skywalker, he’ll want to know Y/N is back.” A member of the rescue team said as they helped wheel you along in the stretcher.
Just days in, your mission had been compromised by a surprise ambush. You had been badly hurt in the process but a rescue team was quickly sent out to retrieve you. Now that you were back on base, you could be treated properly.
You felt your eyelids growing heavy as blurs of lights, sounds and people swirled through your head. You didn’t know what was happening, but you knew you were safe at home now.
“Don’t worry, Y/N, someone is sending for Luke now,” A lady told you kindly as you were wheeled into a room. Luke? Perhaps he was a medic, you thought.
You were transferred to an infirmary bed and some blood samples had been taken. About thirty minutes had passed when you heard the scurrying of footsteps in the hallway. By this time, your wounds had been treated and a thick bandage placed around your forehead.
“Y/N? Oh, Y/N, thank the Maker you’re alive!” A man exclaimed as he ran into the room, rushing to your bed. He cupped your cheek with a soft hand and leaned down to kiss your cheek, “They told me they didn’t know if you would make the journey back to base,” He said sadly.
You raised an eyebrow, who was this man meant to be? Why did he seem so concerned that you,
a perfect stranger, were alive?
“Ah, there’s something we need to tell you first–” A nurse cautioned as she walked into the room, looking at the man.
He grabbed your hand and entwined it through his, and used the other to wave away the nurse, “Tell me later,” He said dismissively.
“Luke?” That was the name the lady had mentioned before, “Are you my doctor?” You asked him.
“Who me, a doctor?” He laughed, “Even in this state, you’re making jokes,” He smiled as he reached down again, as his face grew nearer to yours you anticipated what he was about to do.
Eyes widening, you pushed him away with as much strength as your bruised hands could muster, “Stop it!”
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
You were irritated now, “Sweetheart? Who do you think you are that you can go around kissing absolute strangers?!”
“Actually, Luke, that’s what we needed to talk to you about,” The nurse said before Luke could reply to you, walking into the room now, “The head injuries Y/N sustained were near fatal, as a result there are…gaps in her memory,” She said finally, “B-but we don’t know if this is permanent or not,” She added, sounding hopeful.
The man, Luke, looked between you and the nurse for a few moments before finally resting his eyes on you. You almost teared up at the sight of the man before you, who looked as if he had just heard the worst news in the entire galaxy.
“You don’t… You don’t remember me, do you Y/N?” He managed to say, you could hear the devastation in his voice.
You bowed your head as you shook it, “I don’t, I’m sorry,” You looked up to see him crying quietly now and you looked to the nurse for help.
“Here, sit down, I’ll leave you two to talk,” She said, offering Luke a chair next to your bed. He sat down and looked at you, his eyes searching for something on your face.
“Were we, um, close?” You asked slowly, unsure of what to say to the man who looked heartbroken.
“You were– are the love of my life, Y/N.”
Your heart rate accelerated at those words, you clearly meant a lot to him.
“I told them not to let you go,“He said, "I told them it was way too dangerous, and it was a solo mission! It’s a wonder you didn’t end up… Ah, doesn’t matter,” He said, looking up at you, “You’re home and you’re safe…But, b-but you don’t even remember me,” He said, breaking down in tears at the last sentence.
You didn’t know what to do and found yourself hovering your hand over his head, unsure of where to place it, “Um, you can stay in here if you want?” You asked, dubious as to why you were offering a stranger to stay in your room in the first place.
He wiped his eyes and looked at you again, “I-I would like that. Thank you,” Luke couldn’t believe how careful he was being in the way he spoke to you. Perhaps spending more time with you would help you remember who he was.
Several hours had passed and Luke was wide awake, still sitting beside your bed. His eyes were red and puffy and all he could do was be thankful that you had fallen asleep so as not to see him like this.
Luke moved his and hand and placed in on top of yours, tracing it with his thumb, “I need you to come back to me, Y/N,” He whispered, “Come back to me like you promised you would.” He said before gently pressing his lips to your hand.
Word count: 1013 words (I’ll edit this later it’s 2 AM rn)
Author’s note: This was written in 10 minutes in my english class yesterday (lmao save me), it’s my first time writing smut (please bear with me) i hope you like it! Masterlist coming soon! feedback is always welcome.
It all started with him playing with your fingers . Whenever he was in the mood, he played with your fingers, like a hard and fast rule.
It’s like you’re on the shore of an isolated island in the middle of nowhere. You see the ocean, you know there’s land out there somewhere – civilization, but you have no idea how to get there or where to even begin looking. So you start swimming aimlessly, assuming you’ll find something somewhere. But then your legs fall limp and you can’t feel your fingers or your toes and you start sinking. No sandbar, no life preserver. Just you and the open sea angrily pulling you into its grasp. You want to tug away, but you can’t. After all, you’ve been on an island all on your own for who knows how long. You’re tired. So, you let yourself lose this fight. You fall to the floor of the ocean, and you’re still alive (barely). Your body is running on low oxygen and you begin to see the world around you in a heavy blur and your eyes are burning from the salt and you’re fading in and out of consciousness trying to make sense of your entire existence in that one moment. Like in a way, your life is flashing before your eyes and you can’t get a grasp on whether or not that moment alone is even real or if you’re in an out-of-whack dream. You think to yourself “If this is real, why can’t I feel it?” You can hear your thoughts, but they are so far away. You’re listening to them, not living with them. Like you’re sitting in the story of your life, a third person biography by some unknown author, and you have absolutely no control over the plot and what you say or do. You have no idea what they’ll write next, but you’re now just a body without the feelings doing every motion the author tells you to and you can’t fucking turn it off. Your mind tells you to wake up and you desperately want to, but if the author wrote a paragraph describing you as being “so entirely hopeless that they took a huge gulp of water and ended their life entirely under the chaos beneath the sea,” well, you’d do it without thinking twice. You’d have to do it because you are just a puppet being pulled in every different direction but straight. You can’t fucking wake up. You’re on autopilot. You fade out entirely and whatever happens then is soon a blur. You’ve lost yourself. You can’t rememeber how the fuck you felt before you disappeared and where exactly you went when you did disappear. You’re not sure of anything except that whatever you just felt has left you with a kind of hangover aftermath, without the migraine. You’re home now, a place filled with all the people you know well. They’re there. They’re real. You’re real. You can feel your toes, your fingertips, and you’re waking in the same hazy fog you left in. Your thoughts begin to collide and you have become a single human being again. You can’t help but ask yourself though, “What would happen if the next time I sink beneath those fucking waves, I let myself drown?”
fa/n: it’s time for some Robb Stark and this one came to my own head, it contains a fueled theory I and the lovely @tygerstrypes have about how the gorgeous Robb can’t possibly be gone for good
warnings: season three spoilers maybe? so like read at your own risk, death, violence
The chaos swarmed around so loud and buzzing it almost felt like some sort of paradoxical nightmare, the type of one where you ran but found you got nowhere. Legs swaying and heart hammering you attempted to shift through the shuffling chaotic fighting in Lord Frey’s dining room, the stiff pain of the arrow in your back making it almost unbearable.
It had all happened so fast, the sequence of events blurring past you with one cry from your mother by law. One minute the music had been jolly, all tensions of the past seemingly drifting to the wind, but then the next minute, Lady Catelyn was on her feet, her impatient pleas for you and Robb to run almost sounding warped in your ear.
Both you and your husband had been shot by the black headed arrows from the bows of the cowardly Frey men on the balconies, the haunting notes of the Rains of Castamere playing from their lutes. The shooting pain in your back was almost enough to bring you to your knees, but you stumbled on, hot tears flooding your face as you eyed Robb, he too stumbling as he stood.
A strangled cry left your lips when you felt yourself being reefed back by your dress, your body colliding with anothers and a hard whimper escaped you too when the searing pain of your wound was torn wider by the force. Coolness met your throat then as someone held you roughly, their heady stench knocking your senses.
Lady Catelyn’s words, the raspy voice of Lord Frey, the almost mute whips of arrows through the air seemed to combine in one big blur of commotion and it seemed to be deafened by the dull thudding of your heart as you looked at Robb getting to his feet, arrows in his breast.
You couldn’t save him, you couldn’t save any of them, not here when you were outnumbered, not when you were close to bleeding out on the Frey’s stoned floor.
You looked at his face then, eyes meeting his for what you realised was the last time. You would die here tonight, all three of you would. You, your beloved Robb and his mother, the dear Lady Catelyn who you felt had lost all too much in this world.
But if you were to die by the hand who held the blade to your throat, you knew the very last thing you wanted to see was the crystal blue of those Tully inherited eyes, the ones who belonged to the man you had wed not so long ago. The man who had broken oaths for you.
Tears swarmed down the plains of your cheeks, hot and heavy, blurring your vision and you blinked them back in a state of panic, thinking that you were slipping away already, that your throat had been cut open all too quickly and painlessly.
The shape of Roose Bolton emerged as the sea of hustling soldiers parted, all Stark bannermen dead and bleeding out on the floor. His face was cunning, his stature embodying that of a snake as he approached Robb, a leer in his eyes and a hard set to his mouth as he gave you a fleeting look as he passed.
You watched on, the cry of Robb’s name leaving your lips over and over again as he fell, slowly sinking into the darkness you were sure you’d be swallowed in shortly but even your own voice seemed warped, so did Cat’s shrieks, cut off at a weird end.
But the words that rang in your ears, loud and clear as if they had been said to you, were the ones said before the cold end of the dagger had been pierced in your Robbs heart.
The Lannisters send their regards.
You bolted upright, a heavy and stuttering gasp trembling past your lips as your eyes fluttered open the minute your dream ended, the nightmarish thoughts still clinging to you even now.
“You’re alright Lady Y/N” you heard a soft voice, your eyes flickering to the rounded and young face of Arya Stark, her eyes hollow looking in the dark.
You nodded shortly, palms digging into the dirt of the forest floor for stability, your fingers combing through the leaves and twigs that lay on it, making your own mind believe you were here and not there, not in the place that haunted your sleeping thoughts.
The fire that Arya had lit earlier was still flickering dimly, almost burnt out but the orange fiery sparks were enough to give light to shadow the sleeping figure of The Hound, the scars of his face seeming even more ghastly as they were illuminated by the very thing that put them there.
The uneasy heart in your chest thudded to a steady rhythm after a minute of breathing in and out deeply, just like the young Stark girl had shown you after the nightmares had begun. You looked back at her now, her dirt covered face and greasy hair lining it, a pair of mud covered hands resting on your knees.
“It was the dreams again, wasn’t it?” she asked you, meeting the gaze of your eyes, her voice soft like it always was. She was hard and rough, but there was always something immortally lovely about her voice, probably the only thing that made her a lady.
“The same one?” Arya asked when you didn’t answer, and you looked at her, trembling hands coming to brush your hair behind your ears.
“It’s always the same one” you told her grimly, voice weak and leaning towards something of a whisper, your body having no strength to talk above an octave higher than that.
“You should lie back and sleep” she tried to soothe you, but months of hardship and pain hadn’t gifted her with a soothing nature and there was an uncertain flicker in her eyes, like she didn’t know how to make anyone comfortable at all.
“I can’t sleep, Arya I can’t” you shook your head “every time I close my eyes I’m back there, and I see it, I see his face and I can’t help him”
“Robb” you winced at the mention of his name “wouldn’t want you to think of him that way, so don’t Y/N. Remember him the way he was before that, do you remember when we were little and he used to tease you all the time?” stiffly you nodded, remembering little of the days you’d spent in Winterfell as a girl, always entranced by the eldest Stark.
“Remember that, when you close your eyes think of that and nothing else, Robb would want that” there it was again, the mention of his name, the sound of it passing through the air, vowels, syllables, and consonants floating past her lips but it stabbed your heart a million times over, burning and then freezing it like the cool sting of death.
Death, you thought, would have been easier than bringing yourself to say his name, because his name made him real, it made him proof that he had once lived, and pretending like he never had was easier than remembering you had lost him so cruelly.
Robb Stark’s name had not passed from your mouth in over three months.
“I should be dead Arya” you whispered, each syllable reverberating and scratching off your dry throat “I want to die”
You’d known Arya all her life, had been a tiny child yourself when she had been born in the chambers of her Northern home, had played with her and your closest friend Sansa, just another person you ached the embrace of, had both rolled your eyes during Septas sewing lessons and had braided and played with her hair when it had been long and tended to.
She’d always been little Arya Stark, Robb’s youngest sister and perhaps the wildest of all the Stark children, the little Arya probably the most like a wolf than any who had lived in Winterfell before her. She’d been cute and petite, even a little stubborn but she had never scared you.
She did now.
A dark and dangerous cloud seemed to swirl in her eyes, her hands tightening their grip on your knees, her face leaning in closer to you.
“Don’t ever say that again” her voice was low, almost threatening and a small twinge of regret took you. This girl had lost so much already and you were thrusting the idea of death upon yourself, but the twinge was only small. She had indeed lost it all, so what was one more person to lose?
“You don’t understand -”
“Don’t understand?” she quipped, her voice louder than the previous whispers of the night and your eyes flickered to where Sandor was sleeping, a grunt passing him as he turned over “of course I understand, I’ve lost people I love, all of them in fact, but I keep fighting because I’m a Stark and that’s what we do”
“I’m not a Stark” you said through trembling lips, your eyes shifting to your hands that wrung themselves into knots on your lap “I don’t want to keep fighting”
“Yes you are” her tone was maddened and short, but there was hurt buried under it too, something that she had learned to bottle up “you married my brother, you’re as much a Stark as I am, and you will fight, for Robb if no one else”
“I don’t want to live in a world where he doesn’t exist” you told her, your head resting against the tree behind you, bleary eyes peering through the canopy of leaves to gaze at the twinkling stars.
“How can you avenge him if your dead?” she told you and you swore in that moment she was exactly like her mother, stone voiced and placid, with a fiery light of revenge flickering in her eyes.
Maybe you should be more like Lady Catelyn, you thought, maybe even more like Arya. You had always been soft and gentle hearted, a blush almost always covering your cheeks with an everlasting modesty, maybe that’s why you and Sansa had been so close as children, both your temperaments the same, both believing in fairy tales and songs.
But life wasn’t a song, it wasn’t a fairy tale either and when the haunting reality set in, the women like you were ravished by despair while all that was left was people like Arya, hard shelled and willful with vengeance.
“Every night before I sleep I say a list of names” she said to you, but you already knew that. While she thought you were asleep during the early hours of the morning you would lie awake, listening to her soft mutters from where she lay, the names she recited so familiar to you now that you could probably begin to list them off in a heart beat “and it makes me feel better, because one day I’m going to kill everyone on that list for killing my family”
“I want revenge” you told her darkly, a sparking flame lighting inside you and the quirk of her full lips turned up at the sides, smug and dangerous she was in that moment.
“We’ll get it, I know we will” she said to you, something in her voice so sure it almost seemed like she could taste the edges of revenge on her tongue “but first you need to sleep”
Agreeing with a nod, you lay yourself back down on the dirt covered ground of the forest floor, head full of thoughts of revenge as you tried to get comfortable atop the scratchy cloak that served as a blanket.
You closed your eyes but did not sleep, listening to Arya’s mumbles and The Hound’s deep snores as he found the softness of slumber. It was an odd company to keep, that of a wild and now somehow dangerous little girl, once noble and childish and a great hulk of a man who slept in his armor, on guard all the time.
They had become the only family you had in this bleak world these past few months, and in your heart there was an undeniable debt owed to them for saving you at the right time while trapped in the Frey’s holds. Despite the thoughts of death you had now, at the time you were grateful to see the scarred face of The Hound busting through the doors to help with a filthy faced, almost unrecognisable girl at his side with a sword like a needle.
Both had been your saviours and as you lay on the forest floor, the smell of decaying leaves and earth filling your nose, you decided that Arya was right, you had to keep fighting, for yourself, for her, for all the people you lost especially…
You squeezed your eyes tightly, even the haunting echo of his name in your mind was enough to make your heart turn to stone in your chest, so you pushed his name back to the dusty parts of your conscious, stacking it away with all the other bad memories.
The faint noises of the forest distracted your mind and Arya’s soft voice from across the fire trickled to your ears, voice so faint it was almost incomprehensible for a moment but you knew what she was saying, and you didn’t know if she was awake or if she had become so accustomed to muttering the same thing that she now done it in her sleep.
“Cersei, Joffrey, Illyn Payne…” they were just a few on her list, the haunting hit list of a child filled with murderous revenge and sometimes the names on that list would bring chills to you with the thought that she wished these people dead, wished upon them the same fate that had met her own family and it almost scared you.
Now however as she whispered names that you knew, you felt an ache in your heart, one name sticking out in particular, the person you wished to kill most of all.
It was worth it to remember the red wedding, just to think of his face, to remember exactly what it looked like and you were certain, that one day, courage would be resurrected inside you and your face would be the last thing he saw before he died.
Snow was an accustomed sight, almost a glorious one as you approached the heavy black gates on an almost staggering horse, your steed as tired and as cold as you were, but there was something about the harsh chill and the freckling of snow on your skin that was welcomed with warmth by you.
It was almost like the sight of home, like Winterfell had been in the years past. But even though it wasn’t Winterfell, the place you had lived more years than your own home, there was still a different sort of home that rested behind those gates.
Castle Black had been the desired destination of your small company for weeks now, at one stage it only being a place, a word that didn’t mean anything since your pessimistic mind was convinced that you’d never reach it.
But here it was, the great lump of a dreary building right before you, looming up almost like the welcome arms of a family member and an overwhelming pull in your heart made you tremble with the finality of it. This was really it, you were safe.
Your eyes drifted to Arya from where she sat on her smaller horse, a flicker of impatience in her eyes but she didn’t look at you, not realising anything else around her except for the gate that was now opening. You could see it all over her face, the conflict of emotions that were skimming her features, the light of her eyes, the tremble of her lips, her whole heart set on seeing her brother again.
Inside the confines of the walls was just as bleary and dark as the outside, the falling snow creating a misty, almost ominous color to the place but even though it wasn’t beautiful, it was a glorious sight to your eyes that looked all around from atop your horse.
It seemed that as the three of you rode inside, eyes followed you everywhere, men in wild looking furs and matted hair and men with the blackness of the Night’s Watch upon their shoulders stared at the unexpected arrival of two girls and a scarred man.
You looked at each of their faces as you passed, and then, there he was. Like a shock of night against the brightness of the snow, dark hair pulled up and dark eyes unbelievably watchful as he stood on a balcony.
Your heart leaped in your chest as you looked at him and suddenly Arya was off her horse, running towards him like the wind was carrying her. You watched as Jon scooped her up, holding her like she was a part of him, hugging his little sister tight and showing no sign of ever wanting to let her go.
He looked at you when he eventually did put her down and as you slid off your horse slowly he made his way towards you, steps almost agonisingly slow and then, like your own body had moved before you wanted it to, you were crashing against him, arms around his neck, holding the only brother you had left, because under it all, no matter what, Jon had always been that to you, a brother.
You felt the safety secure you as your brother by law held you in his arms, all love for you pouring from the warmth of his embrace and the feeling of finally being safe almost suffocated you, taking a hold of you like no other.
Security and happiness rippled through you like a sea of overwhelming emotions, ones you hadn’t felt in such a long time, crawling their way up from the blackest pits of despair you’d been in for so long, resurrected like the dead.
The warmth of the dinner hall was greatly appreciated, the fire you sat beside casting it’s glow onto your freshly washed skin, the wet ends of your hair tickling your collarbones.
Jon, Sandor and the ginger wildling warrior sat on one of the long benches, drinking horns of ale that you had politely refused, while another band of men sat close beside a woman of red.
Your eyes now slid to her as she sat close by a man with dirty blonde hair, a sword on his hip and his hand over it like he expected an attack at any moment. There was something about the two of them that had caught your attention right away, especially the woman with her strange accented voice and her wide, seeing eyes.
She had seemed unexpectedly cold and upfront despite the warmness of her coloring and it put you at unease, even Arya who had retired to bed a while ago had voiced her opinion on the red woman, not trusting her completely either.
“Alright, I think it’s about time we talked about why we’re all here” the deep, Northern accent still seemed like it wasn’t real to your ears but as you looked at Jon Snow, your eyes became accustomed to his figure, proving to your fragile mind that he really was here.
All went silent then, even Tormund who had been filling Sandor’s ears with wild and glorious tales of beyond the wall, your sworn protector looking like he couldn’t care for wildling banter. Each pair of eyes went to him, including yours out of pure impatience and curiosity since you’d been called here on his polite orders.
“Y/N” Jon began, dark eyes lifting to yours and something inside his heart twisted. Jon didn’t want to tell you this, as much joy as it would bring you, because it would mean that the last few months you had been living in, all that pain, had been for nothing, all that suffering for no cause at all.
“Yes?” your voice shook as you spoke, heart hammering in your chest.
“Three days past a rider came to camp, bearing news of happenings fifty leagues from here” Jon began, standing closer to you, the flames on his face flickering against his paleness “news about the North, and it’s King”
“It’s King?” you asked, a shaky breath leaving your mouth then “and who’s claiming to be King in the North now? Another loyal banner man of House Stark or a traitor? I can’t seem to tell the difference these days”
“Robb Stark, my lady” it wasn’t Jon who spoke, but the man who had sat beside Melisandre, his tall frame standing, grey eyes perching themselves on yours.
The room fell silent, so much so that you could almost count the breaths that fell from Jon’s direwolf across the hall. You stiffened in your wooden chair, hands gripping the edge of it as if to stop it from spinning off the edge of the earth from the mention of his name. Sandor shuffled in his seat, his eyes laying heavily on you while the wildling man beside him looked on with a spark of interest in his eyes.
“I admire your fealty, but there is no King in the North, and he’s certainly not a Stark, you’re a fool to believe otherwise” you said, standing up from your chair on wobbly legs, feeling colder as you moved away from the fire’s glow.
“I beg your pardon my Lady but -”
“And I beg yours” you interrupted him, eyes almost as blazing as the flames as you looked at him “but there is no King, I watched him….I watched him die before my own eyes. Whoever claims to be King now has no right”
“Y/N, you need to listen” Jon said after you had turned around, not at all interested in listening to men reminisce about things of the past, things that were still too painful “Robb is King, he still is King. Y/N, Robb is alive”
If you thought your heart had broken before, you were wrong. It was like your ears almost picked up on its loud shattering, the already broken pieces now truly turning to dust in your chest and as you sucked in a large breath, ready to answer him, it was like the jagged pieces stabbed you.
“How dare you Jon, you stand there and mock my pain?” you asked him, bottom lip trembling but he only looked at you, so did the stranger who seemed so odd “I seen your brother die, I was there at the red wedding! I seen it!”
“I’m not mocking you, I would never” Jon said, shaking his head as he stood closer to you “Robb was my brother, I would never say something like this if I didn’t believe it to be true”
“How could you believe something like this?” your voice was small, tears bleary in your eyes as you looked around the stiff company of the dark room “the dead are dead, they don’t come back for us”
“I came back” Jon’s words were soft but there was a strained tightness under them, like he was speaking of something that was freshly painful, like he bore a wound that still bled.
“What?” you shakily asked him, your heart beating loudly in impatience for his answer.
“From the dead” he told you “Lady Melisandre brought me back, and I swear to you by all the damned gods that if it hadn’t of happened to me I would never have believed it, but it did happen and I do believe it”
“It is true, my lady” the solemn voice of the red haired woman spoke as she arose from her seat, footsteps silent and ominous as she made her way towards you, haunting eyes locked with yours “I did bring Jon Snow back from the cruelty of death”
“And I suppose you brought my husband back too? Is that what I’m supposed to believe?” you asked, mind still distraught that these people would mock you so cruelly, even Jon.
“Actually I did” the odd man spoke, stepping closer to you in the light, his face now more prominent to you. His grey eyes looked at you hard, but not unkindly, a freckling of thin scars across the plains of his features, his nose looking like it had been broken several times before and his greasy hair twisted atop his head in some sort of knot.
“I brought him back myself” he told you “let me introduce myself, I’m Thoras, my lady, a member of the Brotherhood Without Banners”
“My husband, Jon’s brother, died along with his mother, I watched it happen before me, nothing you say now will comfort me enough to believe that it didn’t” you stood firm, not believing that these people would be so naive.
What was it they wanted? Gold? You had none. Maybe they just wanted to witness the pain of a young widow, see the light of hope in her eyes before they told her their words were false and laughed in her face.
“Aye, it’s the truth” the Hound spoke, his armor clinging as he stood to his giant height, voice gruff and slow after the affects of ale “I had to step over the boys body to get her out”
“We were scouting some Lannister men along the Riverlands” Thoras began, turning around as he poured himself some ale, his words soft as if he was recounting a tale to himself rather than to a room of people, completely ignoring the protesting words of some “we weren’t able to catch up with them but we kept going, thought maybe they’d stop somewhere and we could raid them there. We got to the twins soon enough, but the fighting had already begun. We could hear the shouts from outside, but when we got in, it was already too late”
“You didn’t save my husband, I seen what happened to him afterwards” you said, your voice hard and almost cold “they beheaded him and paraded him around like he was nothing to them”
“A cruel finality yes, but not your husbands finality I’m afraid” Thoras spoke, lips resting at the rim of his glass before he took a generous swig of ale “we took a Frey bannermen’s head, dressed him in Robb’s clothing and took the King with us. People always have said that the Frey’s were a stupid lot, and we seemed to fool them easily enough”
“You expect me to believe this?” you said to them, looking between Jon, to the red woman and to Thoras who was an outlaw, a member of a brotherhood that swore no loyalty to any House “you don’t serve the Starks, so why save one?”
“We may have no banners, my lady, but we hate the Lannisters just as much as the Starks might” he said “and we need as many Starks to fight them”
“It seems the Lord of Light has greater plans for those with Stark blood” Melisandre said, her eyes searching your face for any sign that you were softening to their claim “he allowed me to bring Jon back, and willed Thoras to bring back the King in the North”
“You do not have to believe us, but ride with us to where he is, he’s set up camp with loyal men not fifty leagues from here” Jon said, his dark eyes locking with yours in a pleading hold.
“I want to believe you, I do. But there is no such thing as bringing back what’s lost”
“Come with us and see, let us see if it’s true” Jon told you, stepping close and looking at you dead in the eyes, pausing before he spoke again “will you come with us or will you stay?”
porcelain cheek presses into delicate fist, cerulean gaze blurring as heavy lids do their best to remain open. BLINK. BLINK… BLINK…… sleep consumed her, head beginning to slump as her fist hardly did justice keeping it up. ———- coral lips began to pucker, petite frame leaning in closer and closer, mere inches from his. so close, she could almost taste it! until sensitive ears caught onto malicious giggles and a tiny voice softly calling her name. a loud COUGH causes eyes to immediately open wide. ALL EYES on her, unbeknownst that she was still in the same position she was in her DREAM. horror soon written on her face and a deep crimson staining her cheeks when she realized how close she moved towards him, lips still puckered! oh this was so embarrassing, she could die.
Dean didn’t realize the mess he had made until he was huddled in the middle of it.
He faintly remembered stumbling to the kitchen, vision blurred, limbs heavy - my safe place, nobody will find me here, nobody will bother to look, nobody will ask what’s wrong it’s safe and good and I like it there - with the sound of the slamming front door ringing in his ears.
With shaky hands, Dean grabbed one beer, then another, until his arms were half-full and he looked forward to getting drunk, to forgetting.
He settled in between the counter and the stove, as usual, where he fit perfectly, his back against one surface, his toes touching the other. He lined the beers up carefully, the labels a blur, but he didn’t care about the brand today. He didn’t care if it burned his throat on the way down or on the way back up, because that was the goddamn point.
He downed a beer as if his life depended on it but he felt the exact same, the anger and shock and numbness melding into one strange, unwanted presence, and everything was so incredibly loud. His breathing was violently distinct, the clock hurt his ears, a second bottle cap hit the floor like it weighed a tonne, because it sure as hell sounded like it. His clothes were tight on his arms and around his chest, practically suffocating him.
Dean wanted to scratch his arms until his clothes were no longer irritating, he wanted to rip every single hair off his goddamn head. He wanted to punch the walls and destroy the room around him until concrete covered the floor and he couldn’t move from the mess he’d made.
This is not part of a bigger story and I have no intentions of taking it further, so I just tidied it up a bit for posting. Enjoy!
The flail struck Danny dead in the chest. He heard the heavy thwuck of the spiked metal ball embedding itself in his chest, felt his ribs splinter. He folded in half over the ball as it flung him with the force of a freight train toward the nearest wall.
He had a nasty mental image of himself splatted between wall and flail, fly-under-a-bowling-ball style– Danny yanked himself intangible just in time and felt the tingly wash of the wall passing through him. Then he was outside, the damp electrifying air of the ghost zone swirling around him.