kee likes to write trash.

The night had proven to be long. Sansa had tossed and turned. Her mind on too many things. Too many ghosts. Sleep was becoming a long lost memory, along with the fading faces of her family. Each one so blurry and distant now. So far gone. Never to be seen again. She was not exactly sure why she was feeling all these empty emotions now. This was not the time for them. She had to be strong. Like her lady mother. But everything was thrown into disarray; again. Nothing seemed to fit into its place anymore. Sure, the direwolf banners rippled in the breeze again, but what did it really matter? Everything she had ever wanted was gone from her. And perhaps Ramsay was right. The North did not look to her as their savior. They looked to Jon. The King in the North.

That thought made her frown as she stared at her reflection in the mirror at her vanity desk. Her mind shifting to this Targaryen woman. The would be queen. The woman who was claimed to have three dragons. The woman who was claimed to have an army full of savages like Westeros had never seen. The woman that Jon was unwittingly enough going to see under the pretense that she would lend help to their cause. She would have to intervene in this somehow. She would have to gain the loyalty of the North to her, and only her. A Stark. And Jon was not a Stark.

"No." She suddenly said aloud, shaking her head at herself. What was she thinking? That was not like her. Or was it? Who was she anymore? Porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Steel was cold an unrelenting. Was she truly at that stage? Ramsay is just getting to me. Playing his games. She thought to herself, reaching for the goblet of wine before her on the desk. That was what she would make herself believe. All of this was his fault, some way or another. She had no one else to blame; but she could place all the blame she wanted on the man who had done his best to break her completely.

A knock on the door made her jump. She turned quickly in her chair, "Enter!" She said, smoothing out her still lank hair. She had been in the process of fixing it, but had been too absorbed in her fatigue to get that far yet.

Jon walked in quietly, closing the door just as quietly behind him. "I hope I am not disturbing you, so early."

Sansa gave a wan smile, "No. I have been up awhile."

Jon nodded. He could feel the exhaustion around her. He took a seat on the edge of her bed, staring down at his hands. "Sleep has not been a friend of mine either."

"No, I suppose it has not. Things are very different for us both now." Sansa confirmed with a small sigh.

"Aye. I came here to let you know I will be leaving soon. But also... what do you plan to do with the Bolton bastard?"

Sansa chewed the inside of her bottom lip and took her time in answering. That was a question she had been asking herself since she left him chained in his own blood after deciding against feeding him to his own hounds. "Nothing." She finally said.

Jon scrunched his brows in confusion and shot her a bemused look. "Nothing?"

Sansa nodded. "Nothing. You see, the way his mind works... always playing games. He's expecting something. Some kind of retaliation from me. For me to hurt him. And I told him it was my turn to bestow upon him the same as he did to me. However, nothing is best. For now. It will eat away at him. The constant anticipation. He will break himself in his madness and wonder. Because that is what monsters do. That is what tyrants do. They rip themselves apart. And I look forward to seeing that."

"Sansa, I think you are underestimating hi--"

"No, Jon. I am not. It was you who underestimated him. No one alive knows him better than I. I am his wife. I have lived with him. I have watched him play his games. I have been the subject of many of his games. I am a slow learner. I have been told this. Many times. But I know Ramsay. He cannot hurt me anymore." She cut across him. An edge to her voice. She was resolute in her thinking. She would not be wavered.

"Of course, Sansa." Jon relented, watching his sister carefully as he stood.

She gave him another wan smile, "You need not worry."

Jon simply nodded again, his face impassive and solemn as ever. He did worry. He worried for Sansa. For her mind. Davos was right, she was no longer the girl he had once known who dreamed of noble knights and fair crowns made of flowers. Of kind hearts and soft love. He averted his eyes from her and rubbed his hands together for want of something to do with himself. "Of course. I need to finish getting things ready. I hope to leave by midday."

Sansa just gave a wave of her hand to show that she had heard him. He took that as his approval to leave, saying nothing else. She gave a small sigh when she was finally alone again. At a loss of what to do about anything. Just as Jon could not convince her to rid the world of the Bolton bastard, she could not change his mind in leaving. A small pang in her chest at the idea that Jon, her only surviving relation may never come back once she saw him through those gates. Then she would truly be alone in this world. She finished her hair, pacing her chambers for a while before deciding to leave and see the rest of the castle. People would start to talk and wonder and worry if she kept herself shut away. But that was all she wanted anymore. To be alone and left to her own devices.

She gave forced smiles to those who bowed to her as she walked down the halls with her head high. "Has Lord Bolton been attended to this morning?" She asked a passing serving girl.

"Yes, m'lady." The girl said, bowing her head to her lady.

Sansa gave a simple nod. Her mind still not made up entirely about what to do with Ramsay. Though, she supposed she would probably have more piece of mind if she ordered his damned tongue be removed. It would make him less likely to utter annoyances in her ears, at the least.

A small sigh, watching men coming and going, making last minute preparations to go south with Jon. A small warmth of hurt and anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach at the thought again. Mind swimming back to what Ramsay had said the night before. She knew it was all a game to him, and his words were just that, words. She hated that he was making her second guess all her own, private thoughts. She tutted at herself, making way further down the hall. She would see Jon off, as was her duty as the lady of the house. Then she would ask the gods to keep him safe -- if the gods even heard her anymore. But more importantly, she would start helping those in need of their lady's help for winter. Because she cared about her people, in the now. Not some fantasy future where things turned out okay because you simply hoped they would.  

Perhaps she would make Ramsay come with her to visit the people in Winter Town. He’d complained about them many times in her presence. How they meant nothing. How they deserved whatever ailments happened to them. She may even make him sit with her while she preformed her duties and listened to grievances of the people she ruled over. As many of them were likely to place the blame on Ramsay for all he had done. The lives he had taken. The sons who were now dead at the hands of his battle. She did not expect him to be sorry or feel any remorse, but maybe it would annoy him and get under his skin. Enough for him to crack even further. His violence and wrath no longer held any power here.

Parading him around may give him enough humility to calm the beast like temper. Even if just enough to open up his mind. She had many questions for him. Questions she knew he would not answer freely or truthfully. But even a cliff face eroded when enough of the sea continually crashed into it. It was her turn to play games and no one would feel sorry for Ramsay.

Mind made up she decided she would visit Ramsay and then see Jon and his company off. Feet carrying her to the chamber she had requested be made for Ramsay, stopping before a guard as he gave her a small bow and unlocked the door. He made to open his mouth and speak, but Sansa waved the words away before they were out of his mouth and he simply gave her another nod as she walked into the room.

Closing the door quietly behind her, eyes falling on Ramsay immediately. Lounging comfortably on his bed, leg hanging off the edge and tapping idly against the stone floor. He picked his head up slightly and gave a coy smirk to Sansa.

“My sweet lady wife, what a pleasant surprise on this chilly morning.” He said, sitting up completely and nodding to the window, the sky overcast and a chill in the room despite the fire and the warmed walls of Winterfell itself.

Sansa pursed her lips at his welcome. “My lord.” She responded curtly, stepping further into the room and casting a quick look to the window.

His cold eyes examined her closely, trying to determine what the stony look on her face meant. Why she was wearing such a cold, hard mask. But he held his tongue. He would let the prey come to him. He was still a hunter, even without his weapons.

However, Sansa seemed in no hurry to rush into anything as she too examined him closely. She stood tall and proud, no fear in her features. She was the noble huntress this time. And Ramsay would not take that from her. Not now. Not ever again.

“Something is troubling you, my lady?” He finally said in the form of an inquiry. A brow raising ever so slightly.

“I thought that maybe you would accompany me today. I am riding out of the gates later to visit the people of the village.” She said smoothly, watching his face closely.

“Well, I dare say I am in no position to deny my lady, am I?” He said back with the same satiny smoothness. Even though inside he was very curious to know what she was up to.

Sansa gave a nod and turned her back to him, reaching for the door without another word.

“Wait.” Ramsay blurted, confused and stung that she did not further acknowledge him or engage him in more conversation. “That’s it?”

Sansa hesitated and threw a simple look over her shoulder at him. “Aye, my lord. That’s it.” She felt a small smugness in her chest as she watched his features deflate a bit. Almost as if she could see his mind working quickly to try and figure out what had happened. “I shall send for you when I am ready. I will be sure to supply you with a fine, heavy cloak. It is chilly after all.”

“I can’t believe I have to miss it.” You pouted, handing Adam ingredients for the potion he was brewing.

“That’s the life of a mediwizard. I can’t tell you the last time I was off for the fun stuff. Tickets are damn near impossible to get a hold of anymore anyways.” Adam shrugged, flicking his wand slightly to turn down the radio a bit, after the World Cup commercial.

“Charlie is going and I’m stuck here.” You sighed, pulling out a clipboard, parchment, and your quill to check inventory for the order at the end of the week.

“I’ll bring you back something.” Charlie said, stepping into the medical tent. “You’ll be supporting Ireland then?”

“I’m from Boston, you bet your arse I’ll be supporting Ireland!” You said, leaning in slightly to let Charlie place a kiss to your cheek.

“While this dummy has hearts in her eyes, I should let you know, Commander approved us for the Triwizard emergency team.” Adam said, only slightly rolling his eyes at your flushed face and goofy grin.

“Oh yeah! That’s right! We turned in our paper work this morning!” You gasped, almost jumping up and down in excitement. “Hogwarts! Can you believe it?” You added, excitement evident.

“Wow! That’s great you guys!” Charlie exclaimed, grabbing your shoulders and giving you a small shake.

“I know!” You cried dramatically, mock fainting into Charlie.

“Alright love birds, take it somewhere else. This is a professional tent.” Adam chuckled, prodding the flame under his cauldron with his wand to turn up the heat slightly.

You ducked out of the tent with Charlie and walked with him to the apperation point, shoulders falling slightly as he turned to give you a hug. Still extremely bummed that you had to miss the World Cup. It hadn’t been hosted in the United States since you were a young child. You returned the hug, letting go slowly and taking a step back.

“have fun and be safe!” You smiled, placing a kiss to Charlie’s cheek.

“Me unsafe? You must have me for the wrong person. I would never dream of being unsafe!” Charlie said in mock horror.

You snorted, “Yeah, okay, Dragon Soot.”

You both shared a laugh before he took a few steps back and gave you a small wave and wink before turning on the spot and vanishing.

You had to admit, life was pretty quiet around without Charlie. Or maybe it was just that things were seeming to calm down now that dragon mating season was coming to a close. Regardless, you were glad to be able to catch your breath and relax.

Adam entered station and handed you a butterbeer. You popped the top, placed your feet up on the table and flicked your wand at the wireless, already tuned to the Wizarding Sports Station.

“Butterbeer in America is different. Almost like it’s sweeter or something. This is much more subtle.” You said through a yawn, seeing the new shift partners come in. You gave them cheery waves leaned back into the squashy armchair, closing your eyes lightly.

Those few catnap moments were the only moments that were quiet over the next few days as everyone around was preparing for the World Cup. The wireless blasting nonstop from every medical and supply tent. 

Tonight was the night. Ireland versus Bulgaria. The wireless DJs talking nonstop about both teams. But no one seemed to get more attention than the Bulgarian seeker, Victor Krum. You had the articles about him in every tabloid magazine and Quiditch Today did a special five page article on him three days ago. If only you could have been able to watch him in action with your own eyes.

The anticipation had everyone on edge as the hours drew nearer to game time. Once the World Cup had started however, you lost track of almost everything. The next morning Chris told you that at one point you were standing on the table with an Ireland flag caped around your shoulders, slinging fire whiskey and singing at the top of your lungs.

You groaned at the pounding headache as you slid your uniform robe on the next morning. “I feel like Ireland this morning.”

Adam laughed, clapping you on the shoulder. “You don’t look like it though. The phrase ‘when Irish eyes are smiling’ is not sitting well with you. I’ll get you something for the hangover.”

The potion was much needed. A bit unorthodox to use a pepper up potion for a hangover, but that coupled with a big breakfast helped get you back on your feet within the hour. Which was a good thing too, because it was back to the usual grind. Charlie would be back soon, and you couldn’t wait for a play by play analysis from him.

But, there was hardly time to hear from him when he came back. The dragons were as moody as ever. At least the females were as time came for them to become broody and get ready to have their eggs.

You couldn’t help but giggle at Charlie crooning over the lovely ‘mommy’s to be’ as he so delicately put it. But his need to the dragons took away his time from you. Even free time was spent with the dragons. It would be time soon to transport them, and you had never met less willing cargo.

It had taken weeks to finally round up all the dragons and their nests. Constant stunning spells and burn salve to all of those involved in the Triwizard transport team.

“Well, we’re all packed and ready to leave first thing in the morning.” Charlie said, taking a heavy seat beside you and giving an even heavier sigh.

“You look plain exhausted.” You said gently, looking up from the paper work you had been filling out. The accident reports had swamped you in the last 48 hours as the last of the dragons were safely stunned and put in their crates. A few last minute preparations had to happen as eggs were counted, tagged, and put away safely.

“I could use a long nap. Maybe they can stun me next.” Charlie chuckled on a sigh, removing his thick dragon hide gloves and dropping them on your table.

“We leave first thing in the morning. A couple rooms booked for us in Hogsmeade. I’m excited to see it.” You said, dipping your quill back into the ink well.

“Oh you’ll love it. The Three Broomsticks has amazing food and handcrafted mead. The shops are always fun, especially Honeydukes. Can’t find a better sweets shop anywhere. And if we get the time, maybe I’ll take you to see the Shrieking Shack. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t show you the most haunted building in Britain.”

“Your sense of a date can never simply be dinner and a play can it?” You giggled scratching out your signature on the last report.

“If you didn’t like adventure, you wouldn’t be here.” Charlie countered.

“You caught me.” You laughed, standing from your seat and giving a small groan and stretching. You hadn’t stood in hours. You placed you hands on either side of Charlie’s chair and leaned in, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I also wouldn’t date men who spend more time with dragons than their significant other either.”

“Date men, huh? In the plural sense? How many other dragonologists are you seeing?” He chuckled, eyeing you suspiciously.

 “How many dragons are you seeing?” You quipped back with a wide grin. Your grin only growing wider when he opened his mouth to argue, but no words left him. A small laugh, nudging his shoulder and shaking your head. “Dragonoligist. Like anyone says that. Feeling insecure are you?”

“You have to admit. It has a nice ring.” He said with an innocent shrug.

“Alright then, Mr. Dragon.” You huffed in amusement, leaning closer toward him and catching his lips in a kiss. “You should get some sleep then. Think of all the lovely dragon ladies who would be disappointed in you if you were not on form tomorrow for them.”

tagging: @eldritchscreech

**I have decided to break this up into 3 parts. the next part will be Charlie and Reader visiting all of his old haunts when he was at school, and possibly a more in depth progression of the relationship....???? maybe??? ;) we shall just have to wait and see!**

as always; requests are open. For all your HP needs and wants. *kisses*

He stared and smeared the blood on his fingers, gripping the bible tight. Narrowing his eyes as he stepped down the darkened hall. Slow, tentative steps as he neared a dark shape on the floor. His heart pounding in his chest, swallowing thickly, hoping against hope it was not what he was thinking. Stomach clenching as he stooped down at the dark shape, knowing it was Amelia.

His mind reeling. Any excitement and fresh ideas he had were fading quickly as he hit his knees, dropping the bible beside him and brushing a strand of Amelia’s from her face, thumb smearing blood across her cheek. “Amelia...” He whispered hoarsely, unsure what to do. He had seen blood, bodies, and death many times. He had watched the woman he once loved murdered at the hands of his father. But he was even less prepared for this one. There was no one to blame this time. No one but himself.

“Seth.” Amelia whispered, a grimace on her face, removing her hand from her blood soaked side.

Without hesitation Seth pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and placed it over the cloth over the wound, applying gentle pressure. “We have to get you to the doctor.” He said urgently, shifting on his knees to scoop his wife up.

“Where is she?” Amelia asked suddenly, opening her eyes wide and casting a wild look around the dark room.

“She?” Seth asked slowly, scrunching his brows in apparent confusion. “Who... who is she?”   

“Connie.”

Seth stared at her for a few silent moments. Her words not making sense to him. “Amelia, you’ve lost a lot of blood. We need to get you to the doctor.”

“It was her Seth! She... her husband... she’s a strike breaker.... Arkansas.” She said, mind working furiously to try and find words as well at keep the gathering blackness at bay.

“What are you saying?” He asked stupidly, standing up and glancing around the empty house. He took a few steps further, noticing a cold draft. The wind blowing in through a broken window. He took a few cautious steps forward, looking out the broken glass to find Connie, also covered in blood. He body rigid and unnatural.

“I shot her. She tried... her husband was... the strikebreaker in Marion. He killed... and then I killed... and now here...” Amelia said between pants, trying to muster her strength and push herself up.

Seth blinked, turning back to Amelia and crossing back to her. He said nothing else, scooping her up and hurrying her to the car. How he had got Amelia to town or into the doctor’s office would forever be beyond him. All he knew was that it was paramount that she make it through. Even if she was angry with him. Even if she would forever hate him. He loved her. It was something he hadn’t realized until she put him on the spot after he confessed a majority of his past to her. How the hurt in her eyes felt like a twisting knife in an already stabbed chest.

“Preacher?” 

Seth looked up at the voice, seeing Preston sitting up in bed. He gave a weak smile to the man, “How are ya feeling, Preston?”

“I... fine, I guess? What are you doin’ here?” Preston said uncertainly. He never seemed to be confident in anything he said or thought.

“Amelia was hurt.” Seth said quietly, standing from his seat and pacing. He hadn’t seen or heard from the doctor since he had taken Amelia to a private backroom. It was causing him to go stir crazy.

“Who’d wanna hurt her? Hurtin’ a preacher’s wife...” Preston said with a small shake of his head glancing around the small recovery room. Martha must have forgotten to pull the curtains back around his bed before she left. Or maybe it was the doctor.

Everybody. Seth thought to himself. Their secret was out of the bag now. Mostly. Within a day or two the whole town, and people beyond the town would know that Amelia was behind the underground papers. Too many people were involved. Too many people who weren’t likely to keep quiet. He stopped at a window and felt hot rage lick his boiling insides.

Creeley. 

He stormed from the doctor’s office building, shoes crunching the gravel and snow under his every footfall as he advanced on his brother’s back. It was Bessie who had spotted him first, and grabbed Creeley’s arm, as Seth reached for his gun; only to remember it was not there.

Creeley turned quickly, but Seth had already grabbed him by the front of his coat and slammed him against the closest car door. “Lightening doesn’t strike twice, huh?” He growled at Creeley. “Was she working with you? Was she sent here to kill us?”

Creeley gave Seth a bewildered look, pushing his brother back to get free from his grasp, pulling his own gun. “What are you talking about? Workin’ with who?”

“That Connie woman! She’s a strikebreaker too! Or was. Doesn’t matter anymore.” Seth snapped, nonplussed by Creeley’s gun.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Don’t lie to me! You just couldn’t let me be happy, could you?! First Cynthia, and now Amelia!”

Creeley gave a blink, casting a sideways glance to Bessie. “Amelia’s dead?”

Seth dropped his shoulders and sighed, feeling defeated inside. “No. Not yet. The doctor is working on her now. But that’s not the point, is it? All of this is your fault.”

“No, Seth. It’s not my fault. This is on you, and the choices you’ve made. I tried to warn them both. I tried to warn you.” Creeley said, hand tightening on his gun.

Seth glared at his brother, fists balling at his sides. An ugly rage trying to surface. Just looking at the man before him made him want to shout and curse God himself for everything.

“I think it’s time you left here Seth. I’m leavin’ too.” Creeley nodded, re-holstering his gun and smoothing his jacket out as he spit at Seth’s feet. 

“You can’t scare me. I’m not leaving. And you’ll be back in jail if you--”

“Nope.” Creeley smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets and giving a shrug. “I’m leaving. And don’t you try and follow me.”

“Me? Follow you? What makes you think you’re worth following, Squealey?”

“I ain’t an innocent man either, Seth. But everything I’ve done, it was for me. For you. For Pa.” 

“You’ve done nothing. So if you’re gonna kill me, go on and get it on with, damnit!”

“Language preacher.”

Seth took another step forward, but paused when he caught sight of the fear on Bessie’s face. She had remained stock still. Like an animal being cornered.

“Preacher Seth?” The doctor called from the doorway, drying his hands on a rag.

“Don’t make me tell you again.” Seth hissed at his bother, turning sharply on his heel and walking away.

“Likewise.” Creeley nodded, spitting again and turning toward Bessie. “Come on, we need to hurry and get out of here, before anyone else shows up.”

When Seth stepped back inside the building, he registered the shaking in his hands, the warmth of the building biting at his cold cheeks. “How is she?” He demanded of the doctor, following hot on his heels.

“She’s sleeping now. I think if we can get her through the night, her chances will be much better.” the doctor said slowly, leading Seth to the back room. He turned to Seth and fixed him with a hard look. “What happened to her?”

Seth peered around the doctor, watching Amelia breathe. Her face pale and sickly. Piles of ruined, bloodied rags on the table beside her next to a wash bin. The water inside, steaming slightly, pink in color now. 

“A strike breaker.” Seth finally managed to say, stepping around the doctor and taking a ginger seat on the edge of her bed. He took her hand in his, unsure of who had the colder hands at the moment. A lump sticking in his throat when he tried to swallow. He ignored the doctor, who bustled around, cleaning up the mess that was made. 

What if Amelia didn’t pull through? What was he to do then? No. No, she would be fine. She had to be. She was all he had anymore. His mind lingering on Connie. How had he not seen it as suspicious that she just happened to show up in town during the middle of all of this?

‘Is he the bad man?’

She was after him. The thought made him feel nauseous. That woman had a bullet with his name on it, for two years now. Only for her to discover, Amelia had been the one to murder the strikebreaker. To avenge the death of her first husband. And now here was fate, playing her game.

He stared at the floor for what felt like hours. His back stiff and aching. His feet numb and cold. Mind unable to comprehend anything. Shaking sleep from his head every so often.

Until finally, Amelia tightened her hand around his. He snapped his eyes to hers. She still looked on the verge of death. But she managed to part her lips and lick them slightly.

“I might be wrong. But I think now is one of those times when you’re supposed to be praying, preacher.” She quipped, her voice hardly audible.

“I have been.” 

There were many women that came and went. But you were his favorite. From the moment he had laid eyes on you, you belonged to him. Only him. Where he would share his 'leftovers' with the Boys, you were never an item on that menu. Only he got to use you. The collar around your neck said so.

Ramsay Bolton was disgusting and horrendous. And he was your god. He gave you everything, and all you had to do was keep him happy. It was easy really. You enjoyed his sexual desires. The leather whip on your ass. The way he grabbed your hair. The way he watched you fuck another women he had brought into bed for you both to share.

You would be lying if you said you weren't just as disgusting and horrendous as your master. Because you were. To keep yourself alive. Ramsay was unforgiving, as you learned quickly. To make up for it, he bought you things. Gave you baths himself. Tended to any broken skin he left on you.

You were the bastard's bitch. And you loved every second of it.

It was an ordinary night. Ramsay had come home, covered in blood, as usual. And damn did it look good. You half rose from the couch but he had held up a hand to stop you. You were always supposed to be sitting on the couch, waiting for him. You had no life unless he gave you that life. Yesterday he had been angry, and you were the one punished for it. He took away all your 'privileges', leaving you with nothing to do but sit around all day and wait for him.

One of your friends said it was not normal. The abuse and manipulation. But, you were safe. Mostly. That's what you told yourself anyway.

"Does my daddy need something?" You purred, holding out your hands to him.

He fixed you with a long look before taking to your invite. You could smell the blood on him as he came to a halt at the edge of the couch. You nuzzled the side of your face against his hip, arms wrapping around his thighs.

He brought a hand to cup the other side of your face as he stroked your hair gently with his other hand. You chanced a glance up, seeing him gaze down at you, a dark shadow behind those pale eyes. "I had a bad day, kitten." He sighed.

"Does daddy wanna talk about it? It surely can't have been all bad, you're all covered in blood." You hummed, looking up at him innocently.

"Go put on that new dress. And then bring me your collar. Be a good girl for daddy, mkay?" He said almost dismissively, pulling away from you.

You gave him a small, almost grateful smile. It only meant good things for you when he told you to put on a new dress. This one was hardly a dress at all. If anyone dared look to hard they would be able to see all of you. Ramsay liked these dresses best. He liked to parade you around in front of his friends. And it made you feel incredibly sexy.

You changed slowly, taking time at examining yourself in the mirror. Fading bruises and fresh ones adorning your skin. Many of them a result from bite marks. He could be an animal when it suited him. You picked up the leather collar from the dresser and left the room.

It wasn't hard to find Ramsay. The noise from the basement was enough. You slowly walked down the steps, the smell of alcohol,  cigarette smoke, and marijuana smoke hitting you full force. There was laughing and shouting. The Boys must have shown up while you were changing.

You stood at Ramsay's side, waiting on him to take notice of you as he finished telling his story, a mid gales of laughter around the room. The table littered with beer bottles, liquor bottles, cigarettes, marijuana paraphernalia, as well as a white powdery substance you knew to be cocaine. Ramsay made you lick it up, a lot.

You stared at the small baggie on his other side for a few moments before Ramsay caught you attention by taking the collar from your hands. You snapped your eyes to him as he stood up. He pulled you closer to him, pressing his body flush to your back.

"Do you want some?" He purred against your ear as he fastened the collar.

"If it would please my master." You said slowly. Once the collar was on, you were only allowed to call him master.

"If you're a good little pet, I will let you have some." He whispered, running the tip of his tongue along your ear, making you shiver.

He sat down, pulling you into his lap. You gave a glance around the table. Alyn already fucking a group favorite. You weren't sure where she came from or who she usually came with, but your fingers had been in her cunt many times. You liked the way she kissed you. You licked your lips slightly, watching her backside as she ground her body against Alyn's lap.

Ramsay raised his brows at you, following your eyes. "Thirsty, bitch?" He half growled, fingers digging into your thigh.

"Yes." You replied automatically, knowing better than to lie to him by now.

His grip loosened slightly as he grabbed the nearest bottle of alcohol and handed it to you.

That was all your sober mind remembered.

It felt like hours since then. The mess on the table grew. More alcohol. More drugs. Guns. Money. Cards. Knives. You were pretty sure there had been a finger with a large gold ring at one point.

"Take it." Ramsay hissed at you, forcing the joint upon you again.

Your fuzzy mind and heavy hand took the item and you took a deep hit, passing it off to whoever was still sitting beside you.

Ramsay grabbed your face in his hand, forcing your head to the side and mashing his lips to yours. Ducking the smoke from your mouth. Like a demon devouring a soul.

His lips on yours made you needy. Grinding your ass into his lap. You had been horny for awhile now. The alcohol and marijuana did little to stem the buildup of sticky wetness between your legs as Ramsay would trail his fingers against the hem of your dress and place light bites against your neck as he listened to the others talk or examined his hand of cards idly.

You gave a small whimper when he pulled his lips away from yours. He narrowed his eyes and exhaled the remaining smoke from his nose on a harsh exhale.

Without warning, you found your ass on the edge of the table before you, Ramsay getting on his knees and forcing your legs apart as wide as he could. Your instability making you lean further back, catching your weight with your arms, planting your hands on the table behind you. A deep moan leaving you as you felt his tongue grace your slit, toying at your throbbing clit.

You closed your eyes hard, forgetting that anyone else was here. That you were on the table, legs spread wide, before everyone. Your mind moving in and out of focus as you felt your dress being pulled from you. Lips on yours. A dick against your lips. Down your throat. A mouth toying with your nipples. Your soaking pussy having a hard, foreign object shoved into it. Making your back arch. It seemed to go forever. How good everything felt.

Opening your eyes to find Ramsay standing to the side of the table, slowly preparing a line of coke on a small tray as he let his friends fuck you and touch you. Your mind too hazy to care. All that mattered was the way your body felt. Letting your body be used, finding the woman on top of you next.

Her tongue lightly tracing your lips before she shoved it in your mouth. You closed your eyes again, letting her explore your mouth and steal your breath as she moaned against your mouth. Realizing someone was fucking her from behind, almost jealous that no one was fucking you.

When suddenly, everything stopped and you were pulled up to sitting. Your eyes opening again to find Ramsay and his tray between your legs. He held the tray up to your face.

"Lick it up, kitten. Be a good girl. All of it." He cooed.

Slowly you placed your tongue to the cold, metal tray. The bitter taste of the powder touching your tongue almost at once.

"That's my good girl. Were my boys good to you?" He said, stroking your cheek and passing the tray off to the first set of hands he found.

"Yes, master." You panted, feeling a rush through your body.

"Good. Good." He hummed, slowly undoing his belt and sliding it from his pants.

Eyes heavy, you watched him. You knew where that belt was going. Sure enough he motioned for you to slide off the table and turn around.

With a stumble you did as requested. Your ass exposed to him. Feeling his fingertips run lightly across your skin before the leather strap came down hard, without warning.

You yelped at the pain, shifting your body.

"No." Ramsay tutted, shaking his head. "Hold her."

You couldn't move, only cry out as your ass became raw and tender. He would surely break the skin completely soon.

But he had stopped. The tip of his warm tongue running against the welts he had left on your skin. Light nips, followed by harsh bites to the most tender areas. Your whole body shaking uncontrollably as all the extra weight left your body.

"Very good girl." He praised, grabbing your hips and pulling you away from the table. Without the support of the table you fell to your knees. "Even better." He chuckled darkly, walking around to your front and shoving the table out of his way.

He quickly undid he pants and pushed them down. "Open up. It's my turn, you nasty slut."

You hardly had your mouth open when you found him shoving his dick in your mouth and grabbing your hair. Forcing you up and down on him as you struggled to breathe and kept gagging unwilling. The choking making tiny black lights flash before your eyes. On the verge of passing out.

He only laughed at your struggle and the color rising in your cheeks. Finally, he pulled away from you, allowing you to gasp for air like a diver coming to the surface of the water for air. Deep, cold lung fulls.

Ramsay released your hair and pushed you backward by the shoulder. Too intoxicated to register the movement, too late to catch yourself, you fell back onto the hard floor. Feeling your head hit the ground, but there was no immediate pain.

And nothing mattered anymore now that his body was pressed flush to yours. Shoving himself inside of you. Every thrust forceful and unrelenting. Harsh pants and grunts leaving him every time he jarred his body into yours.

Your hands finding his back and digging your nails into his skin, trying to pull him closer. Wanting him to break you, as he fucked almost screams from you.

"Who do you belong to?" He growled, his thrusting and shoving becoming more erratic and spontaneous.

"You master!" You whined, feeling as though you couldn't catch your breath again. All you could do was moan and whine under his dominance. Your nails clawing as hard as you could. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, face screwing up into pleasure as those tight coils sound tighter by the second, ready to snap at any moment.

He dropped his head, panting harshly at your ear. Teeth sinking into the skin of your neck. The sensation sent you over the edge as you felt your orgasm hit you like a blow to the gut. A sharp gasp and a shaky cry, arching your body further into him.

A rare, guttural moan leaving him as he felt your high hit him. Your walls clinging and pulsing against him as he ploughed into you over and over again. Every muscle in his body taught. Every breath he drew hitching. Until finally he reached his high. Another loud moan rumbling his chest as he pushed all his weight into you. Feeling his throbbing dick pump you full of his thick, hot cum.

You both laid motionless for many long minutes before he pulled away from you completely. He scooped you up and carried you to the empty couch, laying with you and pulling you close to him.

You cuddled into his warm skin as he wrapped his arm around you. Melting into his protection, feeling his heart hammer in his rib cage against your cheek. Your own heart still trying to remember how to beat normally.

Shifting to adjust his arm under your head, he played with strands of your hair between his fingers as his other hand rubbed up and down your back. He placed light kisses to your forehead until you shifted your head and brought your lips to his.

Gentle kisses. A rare treat for you. He even let you nuzzle closer into him. "You were such a good little pet. I enjoyed watching them take their turns with my baby girl. You look like a goddess when you get fucked. Made me ruin my pants. Did you like it?" He whispered.

The house was too much. The screaming and agony and constant sadness in your chest was too much. You thought that perhaps it was just the stress of moving; starting over. But now you weren’t so sure. 

The murder had been a year ago, and still it haunted you. Now, however, other things haunted you too. Things that had nothing to do with you. And yet every night when the sun went down, they came for you. Begging you. ‘Help me’. 

You had never been one to really believe in the supernatural. That was your first mistake. Suddenly the supernatural was everywhere you looked. Bloodied women in the supermarket. Maimed children in the park. Gutted men in the alley. Your sanity was running out. Horrible thoughts running through your head. A need to end it all. 

And that’s when you found her. The answer to all your problems. Your only shred of sanity left. Your friends back home would have laughed if they had heard what you did. That as you hid in your locked bathroom, sitting in an empty tub, trying to ignore the sounds of those dearly departed as they screamed and pounded on the door, you found a medium on the internet. Billie Dean Howard. Her reviews were positive. Hell, she was even getting her own Lifetime show -- even though that seemed a bit corny. But what did you have to lose at this point? 

You picked up the phone first thing the next morning, stirring your coffee absentmindedly and trying not to fall asleep as you heard the phone ringing on and on. You thought maybe she wouldn’t answer. It was still rather early. But you had waited as long as you could. It was 9am, that surely wasn’t too terribly early for a woman running a business. You sighed, ready to hang up when the other end picked up, “Hello?”

“Miss Howard?” You gushed, knocking over your coffee in your haste and excitement.

“Yes.” The voice on the other end of the line spoke.

“My name is (Y/N),and I need your help. I can’t sleep. I can’t... do anything. They won’t leave me alone. Please. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything!” You spewed desperately, practically jumbling all your words in your haste.

--

You paced up and down in front of your front door, waiting. every second that ticked by seemed to last a lifetime. When a knock came on the door you almost jumped out of your skin, heart hammering in your chest as you gripped the door handle and pulled the door open.

It was almost as if you could hear angels sing when you saw her standing there on your WELCOME mat. “Oh god. Thank you so much for coming! I can’t even begin to--”

But your words of gratitude faded as Billie Dean just gave a small nod, moving past you, into your house. She stood in the middle of the hall, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. 

“Yes... this place knows much pain and suffering.” She said quietly, turning to you and opening her eyes. “As do you.”

You closed the door and gave a timid nod. “Yes.” You half whispered.

Billie Dean gave a cluck and headed further into the house. She ran her fingertips along the hallway wall to the kitchen. “Much anger and sadness here. Do you know anything about this place?”

“No.” You admitted, following her to the kitchen.

“Hm.” She hummed, examining the kitchen closely.

To give yourself something to do you pulled a gallon of tea from the refrigerator and placed it on the counter. You reached into a cabinet to extract two glasses, but in your nervousness and shot nerves, you dropped a glass where it shattered on the floor. You jumped back and squeaked like a trodden on mouse. “S-sorry. I’m just...”

“Come sit. Tell me what’s been going on.” Billie Dean said, examining you curiously and motioning to your table.

You sighed and took a seat. You did not answer immediately. Instead you buried your face in your shaking hands, trying to marshal your thoughts. Finally to dropped your hands and drew a shaky breath before it all came pouring out of you. The brutal murder and how you could never shake it from your mind completely. The thoughts of death and suicide. How hanging in your bathroom seemed a better alternative than having to listen to screaming all night. Was better than seeing the horror everywhere you looked. Before you knew it you were talking about repressed memories from childhood. How you could always see them and hear them. The things the spirits told you. Showed you.

Billie Dean sat in complete silence, watching you drone on and on until you had finally talked yourself quiet. A quiet sniffle as you looked at Billie Dean pleadingly.

She gave a sad smile, and reached across the table, taking your hand. “It’s not easy being what we are. Helping these poor souls find peace. How twisted up and angry they have become. So much hurt and injustice. But it is our job to help them, find peace.”

You stared at Billie Dean, wiping a rouge tear from your cheek on your shoulder. “They want to hurt me.”

“No, sweetie. No, they don’t.”

“They do. Watch.”

--

The day passed in tense quiet. Billie Dean continued to explore your house, saying things here and there, pointing out things here and there. She seemed very fascinated with the home.

Like clockwork, once the sun went down, the terror began. The cold. The screaming. The begging. It was overwhelming on your already plagued mind. At one point you thought you even sensed concern from Billie Dean as she tried to contact the violent spirits and talk to them. But they were uncooperative. Unwilling.

You found yourself, back against the wall in the fetal position, holding your head in your hands. Eyes screwed up against the screaming as you screamed yourself. “Stop! Stop it! I’ve had enough! Please! It hurts!”

You felt two warm hands cupping your face, nudging your hands away. You opened your streaming eyes to see Billie Dean kneeling in front of you. “Shh. Shh. Calm down.  We will get through this. But we will need help from a friend of mine. She will know even more about calming these spirits. So they can better tell us what has happened here.” 

You found yourself lunging at Billie Dean, wrapping your arms around her and burying your head in her shoulder as you sobbed. “I can’t do this. I don’t want this.”

You had been hired as a secretary for Roose Bolton’s son, Ramsay. You had been hired by Roose directly. You were excited to be working at such a large company. You considered yourself lucky. There were many applicants. Many people you thought were better qualified for the job. You had heard what a hardass Roose Bolton was. He was proud of his company, and only wanted the best working for him. 

And now here you were, three weeks into the job, and you felt a high about it. People were jealous of your position, and the salary you would be raking in with such a company. Your best friend had been so excited when you told her you got the job. It had called for cake, ice cream, wine, and gossip.

There was only one problem. The man you worked for was a selfish jerk. He never paid you any mind unless he was telling you to make phone calls, cancel previously made appointments, or to get coffee. No matter how cute you dressed, or how revealing, he never seemed to give you a passing glance. It was frustrating because you found him to be very attractive. Though, you were also torn between the fantasy of fucking your boss, and holding onto your dignity.

It was quickly becoming a sexual frustration in your chest. You had given him passing hints. You had tried to flirt with him. You had made suggestive poses when he walked past. But, he was always absorbed in his phone or papers he was reading.

You placed the coffee on his desk, leaning over the polished wood, exposing down your shirt as you placed a memo in front of him. “Mister Bolton, I took an urgent message for you. From your father. He says that he needs you to--”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll get to it eventually.” he said dismissively, waving his hand lazily and bringing his eyes to your exposed skin and then to your face. 

You stood there rather stupidly, annoyed with his dismissal. How could he not ever notice any of your attempts? Your eyes glued to his, moving slowly down his face to linger on his lips before blinking and standing up straight again. “Of course.” You said sweetly, turning on your heel and walking out of the office.

He didn’t even tell you bye as he left the office for the day. You frowned, locking things up and shredding papers before you were able to finally head home. On the drive home you stopped at the liquor store and bought a bottle of the most expensive wine you could find. Anything to make yourself feel better. Spending money was a bad habit.

You took the wine home, ordered take out from your favorite joint, and fell heavy into the couch. Pouting almost. Half a bottle of wine and a full belly later, as you flipped idly through TV channels you were struck by a sudden idea. Daring and what some would call scandalous and slutty. But you were desperate for him to notice you. Hell, say your name at least once.

Oh, what would your mother say if she could see you now? You ignored the thought as you placed the coffee and a memo down on Ramsay’s desk to start his day as usual.  

You were almost out the door when he spoke up. Coffee in one hand, memo in the other. “(Y/N). Wait a moment.”

You turned slowly on the spot, watching him narrow his eyes at the memo. It only had three words on it.

NOTICE ME, BASTARD.

He took a sip of the coffee, set the cup down, and then slowly placed the memo down before he finally looked at you. A small smirk on his lips as he beckoned you closer. You took a step forward, biting the inside of your bottom lip. He gave a tut and beckoned you closer until your thighs were pressed against the front edge of his desk.

He picked up the memo and looked from it to you. “You keep getting bolder.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You said coyly. 

“And you are a liar. No wonder you got the position. We are all liars here, sweetheart. Let’s try that again. You have gotten bolder.” He said with a dark chuckle, placing the memo down again.

Your voice seemed lodged in your throat as he stood from his chair. “Bolder, how?” You half whispered, watching him walk around the desk. Heart hammering in your chest.

“You think I haven’t noticed all your little attempts to catch my attention?” He asked, stalking around you to stand behind you. 

You were almost afraid. You had heard rumors about his temper. Even worse rumors about what happens to those who call him a bastard. But you had to make him notice you. And now you were going to regret it. You knew it. The longer you worked here, the more you saw how horrible he was. To the people who walked into his office and practically ran out after a meeting. What had happened to the last secretary? What did he do to her?

You swallowed hard, staring straight ahead of you. “I haven’t been making attempts to gain your attention.” You lied. “I am simply here to make your job easier.”

“You are here to serve me, yes.” He whispered, closing the space between you both. Pushing his body into yours. 

It made your knees weak and you gave a violent shiver as you let a quiet exhale slip past your lips. He smelled so good.

“I should really get back to--” You began, but found words impossible as he ghosted his lips along the curve of your neck.

“Are you going to chicken out on me? All these weeks of trying to get me to say something to you? The suggestive clothing. Words. All your failed attempts to make small talk and flirt with me? And here I am, giving my sweet little secretary the attention she thinks she deserves and you want to go back to your boring desk?”

He moved his hands to your hips and pulled your body further into his. Slowly he ground his hips against your ass. “You should have wore the skirt you did yesterday. It fits your ass better. And that shirt from Monday. It makes your tits look delicious, you know.” He inhaled deeply and gave a small sigh. “I like this perfume. You should wear it more. You just bought it?”

“Yes.” You whispered, closing your eyes and feeling the heat creep up your face as you lingered onto his words. Your body reacting naturally, trying to resist the urge to arch your back and push your ass further against him

He practically purred, placing a kiss to your neck. But then his grip suddenly turned harsh against you hips and he half pulled his body away from you. “But, you went as far as to call me a bastard.” He half hissed at your ear. “Rude and disgusting.”

“I’m sorry. I just thought it would make you finally notice me.” You squeaked, closing your eyes tighter and wishing he would let you go.

“That’s what you like, huh? Rude and disgusting. You’re nasty, aren’t you?” He growled, removing a hand from your hip to place in the middle of your back and force you over the desk.

You gave a small whimper, not daring move as he ran his hand down your back and over your ass. Fingertips playing at the hem of your skirt before trailing his fingers up the inside of your thigh under the fabric.

“You never wear underwear, do you?” He chuckled, brushing the tip of a finger against your folds.

“No. I don’t want any noticeable lines.” You said, resting the side of your face against the cool surface of his desk, right next to the memo you had given him.

“Good. They would only get in our way.” He hummed, parting you slowly with his finger. “Is this what you wanted, (Y/N)?” He asked, sliding a finger inside of you.

You gave a tiny gasp, “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes... sir?”

“Good girl. “

You swallowed again, letting another sigh slip past you, relaxing your body against the desk, focusing on nothing but the movement of his finger. A small moan creeping up your throat as he slid another finger inside.

“Am I paying enough attention to you know, sweetheart?” He cooed, pushing his two fingers in as far as he could and curling them slowly.

You simply made an indistinctive of pleasure in the back of your throat. Moving your hips against his hand’s movements.

He pulled his fingers from you suddenly, and the sudden coolness between your legs made you gasp and throw him a dirty look over your shoulder. 

“I didn’t hear what you said. I like when people answer my questions.” He said, giving you a scolding look.

“Well, you were. Now... not so much.” You snapped back, batting your lashes at him.

He gave a smirk and a haughty sniff. “I see. Well then...” He fumbled quickly with his belt and pants. 

You bit your bottom lip, watching him as he freed himself of his clothing from the waist down. Noticing that you were holding your breath as you took the sight of him in. Licking your lips. The anticipation killing you.

But you did not have to wait long. He seemed just as eager to fuck you. He gave you no warning, before pulling your skirt up and pushing his bare flesh flush to yours. His warmth causing chills to erupt on your skin. Breath catching in your chest as you felt his tip tease your wet slit.

“Please.” You whimpered, pushing yourself back more.

The movement so sudden and harsh as he shoved himself inside of you with a small grunt. You weren’t even sure what kind of noise it was that left you in that moment. 

He gave you no time to adjust to him before setting a harsh pace. It almost ached your legs as they collided over and over again against the edge of his desk. Each thrust bringing a noise from you. Your lungs never quite filling completely with air again before he fucked it from you.

He moved one hand to your hip, holding tight. His other hand tangled in the hair at the back of your head. His grip pulling your hair painfully. But it felt so good as he brought you closer to the edge of that high you had been fantasizing about since you laid eyes on him. His face always in the back of your mind as your touched yourself at night when you were alone in the dark.

“Harder.” You managed to gasp out.

He gave a harsh hum of approval, crashing his body harder against yours. Your mind swimming as that heavy fog started to set in. Noises growing louder and louder from you as you balled your fists on the desk top. Nails digging into your palms. That hot molten feeling about to break the dam inside of you.

“Oh... god...” You panted, arching your back more as he continued his relentless fucking. His hips making your ass ache with each hard, lustful thrust.

Before you could even say or think anything else you felt that high washing over you in repeated waves. Over and over again, that throbbing. What might have been almost a scream leaving you. Ramsay’s thrusts becoming more erratic and sloppy. His rhythm falling off track as his own body tightened for release.

Pulling out of you just in time to leak his mess all over your asscheek. His panting harsh, a deep moan leaving him as he closed his eyes and savored his high.

And like that, you felt the coolness against your skin as he pulled away from you. Already fixing his clothes as you laid there, trying to regain normal breathing. Your mind reeling at the orgasm you just had. Maybe next time you should sit in his lap before he forces you over this hard desk again.

“What am I supposed to use to clean up?” You asked, pushing yourself on your elbows, rubbing the back of your head where he had pulled your head.

He gave a smirk, dropping the memo on your ass, where it stuck to the slowly congealing cum he had graced your skin with. You frowned. He really was a selfish bastard. But you took it in your stride. Using the paper to wipe his mess from you. Almost wishing you had a pair of panties to put on to keep the mess from leaking down your legs before you could make it to the restroom and clean up properly.

You glanced at Ramsay who was already seated in his chair again, scrolling through his phone and sipping his coffee. “You know the way out.” He said.

You gaped at him, unsure what to say.

he glanced up from his phone and gave you a smirk. “Did I notice you enough?”