roselyn

She took a moment to grasp her surroundings. Her hand coming up to rub the sleep off her face. She looked puzzled, So’lek watched her carefully his eyes frantically raking over her, as if he didn’t believe she’d wake up.

Adjusting herself she called out in pain. “Ah!”

So’lek almost jumped out of his skin, not expecting her to be shouting in pain already. He prayed to the great mother all night that her pain would subside by morning. “Stop, do not move you will hurt yourself.” His voice was groggy, clawing at his throat as if there a nantang [viper wolf] trapped inside of him.

She fell back onto her forearms, flicking a stray hair out of her face. Pain etched into her crevices. It was so deeply apparent that the pain had not gotten better at all. “You’re still here?” So’lek was almost offended by her confusion.

So’lek nodded with a grunt. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?” He perched closer to her, attentive of his proximity, sharply focused on not breaching the invisible personal barrier between the two.

She shrugged, “I…I figured you’d wanted to go back to the Resistance by now.” She was timid, looking just past So’lek avoiding eye-contact with the brooding man.

“I wanted to go back when that storm hit…” As he paused So’lek watched the way her shoulders slumped, glimmering eyes turned dull and faced away, the beginning of a frown forming on her face. “But things changed.”

“I apologise, I didn’t intend to elongate your journey.” She was so quiet, so soft. The hum of the harsh winds almost muted her completely.

So’lek shuffled closer, his hand hesitating in mid-air before tucking that same stray hair as before behind her ear. He felt a rush of electricity sprint through his hand as it grazed across her cheekbones. What was he doing? “It is not your fault. I will get back there eventually. When we have finished Nefika’s bidding.”

She looked up at him, a smile forming. A small chuckle escaping from deep within her chest. “Ah Nefika…she will be itching for her pod fruit by now.”

“There are more important things to attend to than a measly fruit.”

She let out a quiet laugh. Her face scrunching up into a wholesome smiles, revealing the adorable apples of her cheeks. For just a split second, so short it was cruel. The pain disappeared from her expression, as if her leg wasn’t almost split in two during the fall. “More important things?”

So’lek nodded curtly, his eyelashes fluttering to meet her cheesing face. “Yes. Your recovery is most important.” Eywa, he could throw up right now. He was a warrior, challenged himself to his limits for almost a decade. But looking at her, it was the most nervous he’d ever felt. It was humiliating to him. To feel so vulnerable.

But the way his stomach flipped at the idea of feeling her soft skin against his war torn one. Her essence an astounding representation of elegance and beauty meeting his eyes that he couldn’t bear to look away. The way his palms got sweaty when he reached out to lay a comforting hand on hers, praying she cannot feel his nerves radiating off his body.

He was hesitant. A hand planted next to hers. Fingers itching to graze upon hers. To feel the spark between their skin. Would it be selfish of him? To initiate anything between them.

He knows he’s bad for her. She wasn’t as scarred; her brightness radiated onto him. Wasn’t burdened by loss and fear. Yet would it be a crime to be selfish? He wouldn’t court her. No. That would go too far. But…the thrill of having someone to look forward to seeing? He hadn’t felt that in years. Not since he left Rimu.

He missed that feeling deeply. It’s absence forming a deep cavity within him. Something that he yearns to be filled. Oh, how he yearned. Yearned for love, for peace, for a sense of normality.

Maybe that’s what this feeling was towards the radiant woman in front of him. He saw an opportunity to fulfill what lacked in his heart. To finally wake up in the morning with a face he wanted to see, not a cold empty space next to him.

“So’lek?” He shook his heads, trying to manually reset his brain out of the wishful pity he wallowed in. Her soft words brought him out of his trance, settling him back into reality.

Looking down his eyes widened. There on the Tsa’hik’s mat, his hand that was itching to grasp onto her had engulfed her hand entirely. Her soft hand caressed his palm as he stared at the interlinked appendages. “Oh-”. He ripped his hand away from her. The warmth between them vanishing as quickly as it grew. All that was left was a cold confused glance…Eywa how it made his stomach twist “I apologize I did not intend to overstep.”

She let out a sigh, an almost pitiful glance raking over So’lek. Her eyes warm, never leaving his as she hoisted herself to sit up with a grunt. “Is there something wrong with my hand?”

So’lek’s eyes almost bulged out of his head. Scrambling to sit up more attentively he shook his head frantically. “No!” He coughed “I mean…no. No you’re hands are perfect…perfectly fine!”

“Then why did you let go?” She leaned closer to him, her breath grazing upon his shoulder. Wide eyes gazing up to him as she lets the loaded question roll off her tongue.

“I did not want to overstep.” So’lek almost shrunk feeling her nearby. A woman…nevertheless a beautiful woman had not approached him like this in years. He may as well be a teenager going through the motions of puberty the way he was being so childish.

“So’lek.” Eywa…the way his name sounded coming out of her mouth. He felt as if he could melt into her hands. No. He couldn’t, he shouldn’t. He wasn’t right for her. Knowing her for just a couple days he knew he was too sharp for such a precious woman. He would only give her grief, he proved himself right as his eyes travelled down to her injured leg.

“Yes…”

“I haven’t thanked you enough for saving my life.” Her hands reached his again almost like a plead. An outstretch begging to be returned.  The sudden warmth was comforting. He could envelope himself in it for eternity if she let him. But he wouldn’t let himself.

With a swift movement he pulled his hand away from her. Standing so fast he almost lost his balance knocking over the medicine jar to his left.IT shattered, herbs and potent smells wafting through the tent. He watched the way her eyebrows furrowed. Mouth curled into a frown as her hand laid rejected. That look in her eyes…it was pointed, bewildered and hurt.

“You do not need to thank me. You should not be thanking me.” He took a deep breath, his chest shuddering as he looked to the exit. Would it be cowardly to leave? Yes. Did he wish he could stay? Yes. But he couldn’t- No. He shouldn’t. Not when his insolence got her into this mess. Not when he looked at her and all he could see was bruises and gashes littering your skin. Not when Minang pulled him aside late into the night and explained how drastic the injury was. Her words rung in his head. “It would be Eywa’s miracle if she is ever to be painless again So’lek…her bones are damaged, horribly damaged. It will take months for her to heal. I don’t see her walking soon. Not at all.”

“I- I will get Minang. I shall tell her you have woken.”

He didn’t give her time to respond. He was already halfway out of the door by the end of his sentence. Striding out as the wind hit him hard. Nipping his skin as if Eywa was punishing him for being such a hopeless fool.

────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

The flap of the tent swayed long after he marched out. Almost like it was taunting her. Telling her to chase after him. But how could she? Not when she was like this. Her leg like a piece of foreign flesh. Weighing her down, strapping her to the ground. Hopeless and weak.

She sat still. An unmoving rock as the winds picked up around her. Staring off at the jar. It was almost poetic. Shattered jar and a shattered pride. Was she bogging him down that much? That he couldn’t bear to share more than a touch. She had sworn…in her bones she felt the way So’lek looked at her. Feel his eyes burning holes through her. But her feelings must’ve been wrong…just like her bones.

It was pathetic. She felt pathetic.

Shaking her head, racking the thoughts out of her mind, begging them to dissipate. It didn’t matter. Warriors like him are bred to be cold. It was a consequence of their responsibilities. That warriors like him cannot stand weakness…and that’s all she was. A weakness.

He had duties, duties to another clan. He had barely known her for more than two eclipses, why would he stick around? It would be stupid.

Her head whips around at the sound of grass crunching beneath a person’s feet. A flicker in her heart prayed it would be So’lek. Pathetic.

Minang stepped through the tent and crouched down with a pitiful smile. “So’lek told me that you had woken.” She sits on her knees starting to pick up the shattered jar. “I am glad, I was beginning to think only the call of a Zakru would wake you.”

Y/N smiled faintly, it was so evidently fake. Her eyes didn’t match the show of teeth. The sound of a chuckle was weak, it could have been mistaken for a cough.

“He seemed to be in a rush” She murmured, eyes looking anywhere else but the woman in front of her. She took in the tent. Warm, red and yellow canopies shaded them from the harsh light of the day. Jars and baskets of miscellaneous herbs and ointments adorning the floor and walls.

Minang nodded. “He is just worried, carries guilt heavier than anyone man I’ve ever met.”

But she was met with silence. Y/N watched idly as the woman worked on her leg, disgusting smelling ointments and sticky leaves wrapped tightly around her wounds. Any tighter she was convinced her leg would snap right off.

She tried desperately to focus on anything but the gnawing pain in her leg. It ran so deep she could feel it in her veins. Poisoning every movement she made.

Outside, there was faint voices. She honed on them focusing so that the muffled sounds became clear words.

“What’s the matter with So’lek” a voice asked, a gatherer perched outside the tent. Probably sorting the quality of their findings

“Ah yes, heard him last night said he would return to the Resistance once the Aranhae is strong enough to travel.”

“Strong enough? He will be here till the next migration!” the other voice laughed softly, a teasing tone twisting into her words.

“I doubt it, look at him. He’s itching to leave, like something crawled into his skin.” A boisterous laugh escaped the gatherer’s throat. “His heart must be elsewhere.”

Now as her jaw clenched, teeth grinding as the bandages got tighter. She wished she had focused on her pain for just a moment longer.

────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

notes: thankyou sm for reading!! i'd love to hear your thoughts what you think might happen, what you wish will happen!! it really motivates me comments, reblogs and asks are so so so appreciated. sorry if theres some errors i wrote most of this when i should have most definitely been sleeping

“Ah yes! The journey…I understand that, it must’ve been a long flight but you see.” She paused taking a cracked pod fruit out of her bright yellow cloak pocket. She was almost  pouting which looked comedic on the older woman.  “It has cracked…I cannot make use of it.”

“The sky person packed it.” It was blunt and fast. Slightly avoiding the underlying meanings of Nefika’s conversation.

“Yes yes…the sky people naïve with fruit…however you are a diligent warrior, any fruit would become your prey!” Nefika let out a heart chuckle, putting a hand on his shoulder.

So’lek inspected the fruit, looking at it with a investigative eye. “This is pod fruit.”

“Ah are you a gatherer young man? So smart!” So’lek scoffed at her unruly compliments.

“It is in the upper plains.”

“Yes! Right again So’lek. You are truly magnificent.”

A small chuckle emitted from behind the pair. So’lek’s ear twitched finding the mysterious sound. It sounded so familiar. So… comforting. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“You are basically insulting the man Nefika!” Y/N chuckled, her waistcloth pouch jingling as her body moved. “Are you truly sending him up to the plains? All for your dyes?”

So’lek froze, unsure whether to greet the woman had haunted his thoughts all night or stay perfectly still and pray she doesn’t see him. Like a young hunter waiting by the waterfront for a sturmbeest to trot along.

“Aish! It is important fruit! Why don’t you go with him! You have not been to the plains in so long. You are due for a visit!” She inched closer to the pair of young Na’vi.

The woman paused for a bit. Looking at So’lek until he gasped and looked away quickly. So’lek was cursing himself out in his head. He was acting like a teenage boy, it was humiliating.

“Would it not be better suited for him to take Eetu? Right So’lek? You are best of friends.” So’lek couldn’t help but feel a pang. But he pushed it down. It was completely reasonable for the girl to try and escape this predicament.

She had only known him for a day and even So’lek knew he wasn’t the most pleasant person to be surrounded by.

“I fear Eetu would not come back if I had to take him with me.” So’lek said with a sly smile though he paused. His face turning solemn. “He would not be able to come anyway…Zomey has passed, she cannot take him to the plains.”

The trio all went silent for a moment. Nodding their heads in saddened agreement,

“More reason for you to go!” Nefika clapped loudly getting everyone out of their mourning trance. “Keep the solemn soldier company and bring my fruit and something for Eetu back from the plains! It is magnificent.”

“Nefika you are so marvellous at making plans where you do not have to retrieve a thing!” Y/N laughed, sarcasm lacing her tone.

“Hah.” Nefika scoffed shoving the basket into So’lek’s hands.

So’lek stumbled a bit, coming back to reality as he had managed to zone out of the conversation before him. He looked at the basket in his hands and sighed. This damn pod fruit.

“Well! Go fly catch the wind and you will be there before dusk!” Nefika exclaimed with glee, almost skipping away back to her other projects.

Though he told himself this was just another errand, So’lek found his chest tight with something unfamiliar…anticipation.

────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

The pair was soon in the sky, blazing with the wind as they made their way to the upper plains. The air was hot, humid from the storm before. Wind caught onto the leaves, flicking the dew into the air.

So’lek planned to get there quickly. Beg his ikran to soar as fast as possible so that he could finally get back to the resistance. Yet, he found himself slowing down, matching the speed of the girl beside him.

“You ride slow.” So’lek said looking at her. Her hair flowed in the wind, her ikran decorated with colourful saddles and harnesses. The beads in her clothing and hair matched her ikran perfectly. She was ethereal.

So’lek could feel his heartbeat faster. He didn’t often initiate conversation but yet he couldn’t fight his own urges to talk to her.  

“I do not! I was slowing down for you warrior!” She gasped, faking some level of offense. Her eyes lit up as she smirked. “Do you intend to race me?”

So’lek let out a gruff laugh. “You must intend to lose.”

“Certainly not.” She giggled, her face crinkling into soft lines.

She cried out to her ikran, its wings flapping fast as she gained speed against So’lek.

So’lek cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes at the move. But he followed quickly.

The wind whistled around him, his hair whipping in the wind. The forest below turned into a blur of green. And ahead of him was Y/N, A streak of flying colours. As he gained on her she slowly came back into focus, radiant and beautiful.

So’lek’s mouth twitched into the beginning of a smile. “You call this flying?”

She looked to her side, shocked to see him beside her so quickly. “Don’t underestimate me warrior!”

So’lek’s eyes narrowed as he darted through the wind. Banking hard to gain speed against the woman. He was agile, slipping between trees and vines before he flew back up high into the sky.

For a moment, So’lek let himself go. He forgot it all, all his troubles. The sky-people, his burdens, that stupid broken fruit. The wind smelt of rain and freedom, there was no noise aside from the wind in his ears and the laughter of Y/N behind him.

The winds shifted, moving closer to the plains. Gusts howled through the air, branches cracking as leaves came hurdling towards the pair like shards of glass.

 A sharp gust tore into her. Her ikran screeching as it pivoted into a large tree. The ikran’s wings clipped a branch, the impact throwing her off her ikran. She was plummeting to the ground.

Her scream pierced the air as So’lek’s heart lurched out of his chest. He let out a loud cry to his ikran as they dove down, slicing through the air. Gaining enough speed to catch up to her. He didn’t have time to think. He just needed to catch her.

The world blurred, his only focus on her. He couldn’t hear anything, but her shrieks of fear as so span towards the soil. He reached out to her, screaming her name as he hands stretched as far as it could.

His arms enveloped her. The stillness of the air hitting them both hard. Everything around them paused. The wind quiet, the ikran’s silent.

In his arms was Y/N was shaking against him. Her pupils were wide, frozen in fear as her hands clutched to his chest. So’lek became rigid, his body full of adrenaline. His hands…steady and calloused moved gently over her, searching for any sign of injury.

 “Are you hurt?” His voice was urgent, raw with concern. His eyes darted over her body, scanning for any sign of blood or bruising. He didn’t realise how tightly he was grasping onto her until she winced.

She shook her head, her voice faint, barely audible above the soft hum of the calming wind. “No…No I am okay.” Her voice shook, betraying herself as she tried to convince herself she was okay.

So’lek grunted, unable to let go of her. He slowly flew down to the ground. “I apologise. I forgot you do not ride these winds often.” He couldn’t help but blame himself. Guilt built up in his chest as he exhaled shakily. His tone was raw, an edge of panic still lingering. The most emotion he had shown since he had arrived at the Aranahe hometree.

She shook her head, clutching tightly onto his hand. “No. Not your fault So’lek…this was not your fault.”

So’lek averted his eyes, but he didn’t move his hand. He let it be encapsulated by her warmth. He berated himself in his mind. Such childish actions, letting his guard down resulted in an innocent woman almost falling to her death. “I will take you to Minang. She will make sure you are not hurt.”

As the eclipse grew over the sky they finally touched down onto the open plains, just outside of the circle. “Can you walk?” So’lek asked, now grasping onto her waist supporting her weight as he dismounted his ikran.

She nodded as she scooted off the ikran. So’lek’s hands still on her waist. Slowly she place her feet onto the earth, resting her weight on her legs she hissed and almost toppled onto So’lek.

So’lek’s eyes widened holding onto her tightly, resting her against his chest. “You are hurt.” He looked down to examine her leg. A punishing bruise began to bloom from her thigh to shin, a large cut dripping blood onto her foot. “Did you hit your head too? How is this ‘okay’.” So’lek fought the urge to scold her. Covering his concern with a façade of irritation realising she was most likely still in shock after the incident.

But she didn’t respond. She stayed quiet, deeply breathing as she clung to So’lek her leg obviously causing her great pain. Tears brimmed the girls’ eyes as she balanced herself on one foot.

So’lek sighed, looking down at her. His recklessness caused this. He shouldn’t have let her come, he shouldn’t have stayed overnight, he shouldn’t have let the unknowing human pack the damned basket. With a grunt he swooped his arms under her and picked her up with ease. “No- No So’lek I can walk it’s fine.”

So’lek rolled his eyes. “You cannot.” He walked closer to the circle. The Zeswa calling out to signal someone was arriving.

“So’lek! What brings you so far- Oh great mother- What happened?” Minang rushed out of her tent, observing the pair.

“Her ikran had not been in these winds in a long while…threw her off.” So’lek looked down at her leg again. It was now covered in blood; yellow and purple bruising littered her supple skin.

He couldn’t help but feel his guilt grow as he heard the soft winces in his ear. A small cry as she gripped tighter onto So’lek her head hiding in the crook of his neck. He should’ve been more careful.

“Goodness…Come we shall take care of her. Is she conscious?” Minang stepped closer, inspecting the leg from a distance, hissing at the injury.

So’lek nodded holding her closer as they walked to the Tsa’hik tent. “She did not reach the ground, I do not know how she hurt her leg.” Minang laid out a blanket and pillow she gestured for So’lek to place her down.

So’lek slowly knelt to the ground, holding onto her tightly as he placed her onto the ground. He suddenly felt cold without her, the brazen breeze of the plains nipping his skin. He looked at her once more. Her face was now tear stricken, the adrenaline wearing off and the pain settling into her leg. So’lek couldn’t bear to look any longer. He felt his heart heavy as he looked at the crying girl. He hadn’t felt this much guilt in a long time.

“My leg hit a branch as I fell” She whispers out as Minang starts to wash the wound. Y/N yelped in pain shooting up for her laying position. So’lek grimaced looking away.

“I will fetch the pod fruit.” He needed an excuse, to do anything but stare at her as guilt racked inside him.  “So I can get you back home as soon as possible.” He started to stand, brushing the dirt off his knees.

Suddenly a gentle touch stopped him. Her fingers wrapped weakly around his hand. “Stay.” She whispered, her voice quiet and exasperated. It was so fragile yet…destructive. It shattered him. “Please…”

So’lek was frozen. She was so weak, a completely different side of herself that she had not shown him the night before. He could feel the way her hands trembled in his. He grasped onto her hands. So large it engulfed it whole.

He said nothing. But his actions were enough. He slowly sank down beside her, his hands cradling hers as the heat of the Tsa’hik’s tent enveloped them for the night.

────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

authors note: thank you for getting to the bottom! im really enjoying writing this and im hoping you enjoy it too! I'm not sure if I should keep writing coz no one really read the last part but i will probs persevere anyway LOL

“They are busy! Trust me I would’ve asked them…but you are my next option. You’re the only other Na’vi in the Resistance with an ikran.” So’lek let out a small hiss, letting his frustration out as he stood up broodingly, towering over Priya casting a dark shadow.

“Asking me to go to the Aranahe to all places. I will come back looking like a tormented weaver.” He raised his arms and turned away “What will I receive for my journey, I do not do human bidding with the good in my heart”

Priya paused for a moment “I will ask the Sarentu to retrieve some duty rosters for you right away! As soon as you trade the materials!”

So’lek held back a hiss. The nerve of this pesky human. “Fine. I will leave soon.” He paused for a moment, turning back around. His tail almost flicking Priya in the process due to how close she was standing to him.

With a gulp Priya nodded, slowly lugging over a large basket of foraged materials for the Aranahe. The sound of the basket dragging across the floor made So’lek’s ears flick and twitch.

“Ah! Give it would you?” So’lek effortlessly lifting the materials, almost lifting Priya off the ground as well. So’lek turned swiftly on his toes and strode out of the Resistance hideout.

“Thank you So’lek!” Priya yelled out as he left, scampering back to her monitors.

────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

So’lek’s ikran slowly descended from the sky right outside of the Aranahe hometree. Some Aranahe jumped at the unexpected visitor but quickly going back to their own business.

“Brother! What a pleasure!” Eetu yelled out from the heart of hometree. “Why have you come all this way? Did you miss me?” He laughed patting So’lek on the back.

So’lek snorted, the corner of his mouth almost twitching into a smile. “Ah yes terribly” he said sarcastically, lumping down the basket of materials.

“Oh! Is this the stuff Nefika was asking for? She’s been talking everyone’s ear off trying to get someone to go to the Clouded forest, but no one cared to travel that far.” Eetu inspected the basket seeing a multitude of dyes and plants.

“Yes, she apparently begged someone from the Resistance she was so desperate for this fruit.” So’lek tutted rolling his eyes as he inspected the fruits inside the basket.

“Why didn’t the Sarentu bring it? They are in the plains at dawn and in the forest at dusk.” Eetu questioned walking throughout hometree with So’lek.

So’lek shrugged. “They wander. I do not.”

Eetu chuckled. “You are so serious. When are you not hiding way with all those sky people? You should stay with us sometime. The Aranahe would welcome you brother.”

So’lek nodded “As much as I appreciate your company I would rather not be wrapped with silk surrounded by the infamous gossipers of the Aranahe.”

“Would it be so bad hm? You could get some beautiful clothes to hide that scowl of yours.” Eetu let out a loud laugh, slapping So’lek’s back. Finding his joke incredibly funny…only to himself.

So’lek simply rolled his eyes as they made their way through hometree catching up on what they had missed. The sky people had caused a large rift in the usual routines of all Na’vi.

So’lek kept a straight face, noticing the Aranahe staring and whispering. Some even letting out little giggles as he walked past them. Being so involved in the whispers around him he didn’t even notice the woman he had walked right into.

She was radiant. Bright dyes adorned her clothing, her hair decorated with silk wraps and colourful beads. Purple and red paint striped her arms and legs. How had he not seen her before?

“Ah! Y/N must you be so clumsy?” Eetu scoffed helping her up. “The man is hard to miss!”

“It is fine.” So’lek said quietly, glancing down at the woman he had crashed into. “I was not looking.”

“No, it is my fault.” She said, still smiling despite the fall she took.

“Every time I see her, she is hurt.” Eetu chuckled “Eywa must’ve been too busy balancing life to give her balance.”

“Aish! You are no better Eetu! I watched you trip over a blistering root!” The woman shot back, flicking her hair behind her.

“Ah! You said you would not tell a soul!” Eetu frowned “It came out of nowhere!”

“Yeah. Sure.” She huffed “Anyway, what is in that basket?” She stepped closer to peek into the basket Eetu was now holding.

“It is for Nefika. Not you.” Eetu said turning the basket away from her.

“I assumed you skxwang.”

So’lek stood awkwardly, trying to decipher the dynamic between the woman and Eetu. He had never spoke of her before, not that he had spoken with Eetu in a while. But they seemed close.

Hm. The skewer he ate before must’ve not sat well with him because his stomach felt as if it was flipping. Maybe it was the flight? His ikran was a bit cheeky, diving for the river early in the flight.

“Well. It was nice to run into you…What is your name?” She said turning her attention towards the stoic man in front of her. Her hair beads tapping as she titled her head up to see him properly.

“So’lek.” He said quickly averting eye-contact, unable to decipher the feelings pitting in his stomach. He felt this way when he was going to defeat the sky people, not when meeting a random Aranahe woman.

“Nice to meet you…So’lek” She smiled softly. Her eyes sparkling, creasing above her cheeks. As she left, she pushed past Eetu, making him let out a scoff.

“Aish! So rude!”

────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

Eclipse was still far, yet the air in the Kinglor Forest grew faster and sharper. Trees whistled as the thick clouds gathered above hometree.

So’lek looked to the sky. A sinking feeling settling within his chest that he may not be able to reside in his own resting spot tonight.

“Are you going already brother? The hunters have brought back sturmbeest for everyone!” Eetu called after him.

“The basket is here, is it not?” So’lek replied turning to Eetu, sheltering his face slightly from the rain sweeping inside with the wind.

“You do not plan to fly in this weather, do you?” Eetu’s voice rose over the howling gusts of wind that almost made him stumble over. As if on cue a loud crack on lightning hit a tree close to hometree. The wind steadily growing faster. Around them the Aranahe began to rush inside. Gathering their crafts, collecting their belongings and rushing the children inside.

“I have flown through worse brother. It is just a mere storm.” So’lek’s tone was flat, his intention clear. He was determined to leave that night. He wanted his bed; he had duty rosters to observe. Attacks to plan and sky-people to stalk.

“Mere? You talk lightly for the chao that is erupting around us!” Eetu scoffed, placing his hand on So’lek’s shoulder. The ikran’s flew to the rookery seeking shelter, folding themselves inside their wings to guard themselves from the harsh, pelting rain. “See? Even your ikran refuses to fly tonight.”

So’lek looked at his ikran sheltering high up in the hometree. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes in disappointment. “Just one night.”

“Ah! The mighty warrior can be persuaded!” Eetu slapped So’lek’s back walking back inside the hometree. Almost skipping with glee.

────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

The storm grew wilder. A relentless rhythm of crashes and cracks echoed throughout hometree.

So’lek sat high up in hometree, perched on a woven awning that overlooked the lush of the forest. Nothing was accompanying him aside from unforgiving pattering of the rain…and the footsteps behind him.

“You are doing a horrible job of staying dry.” Y/N chuckled, easing herself down beside the sullen man. “There is food and warmth in the hearth. Unless you enjoy pretending to be a rock.”

He turned to face her. He couldn’t help but admire the way her bioluminescence lit up her eyes. The glow of her skin making her body paint contrast her so…beautifully. “A rock?” His mouth twitched slightly fighting back a smile “Rock’s do not complain about being wet.”

“Hm, I suppose. Maybe they would if they could talk?” She smiled crossing her legs as she looked away from him and to the rain.

So’lek turned to look at the rain. “It will pass soon.” But the woman simply shook her head.

“This is not a storm that passes. It will last throughout the night.”

So’lek sighed. “Then I shall sit here until it passes.”

The woman huffed crossing her arms and facing him swiftly. “Do you always make yourself this miserable?”

So’lek’s eyes twitched at her comment. Taken aback by her bluntness. “I enjoy the solitude. It is not often I am not surrounded by sky-people.”

“Ah. Is that your way of telling me to go away?” She shifted closer to avoid a stream of rain leaking through the roof, her knee brushing against his. He didn’t move away

So’lek shook his head. “No.”

“A man of many words.” She snorted. “You know, if Nefika didn’t know the efforts you made to travel here she would’ve cursed you out.”

“What?” So’lek turned to her confused, unsure why his efforts would be punished by the older woman.

“The fruit you gave her cracked. It dried out by the time she retrieved it for her dyes.”

So’lek’s tail flicked in irritation. “A human packed the basket. That is why.”

She let out a chuckle. “I assumed so. You do know she will ask you to retrieve another.”

“Of course.” He said sharply. Incredibly frustrated how Priya’s clumsiness is causing him more distraction.

“It is interesting watching someone other than the Aranahe do Nefika’s errands.” She smiled looking into So’lek’s eyes. But he looked away quickly turning back to rain. “You do not talk much.”

“There is not much to talk about.” He said blankly, looking down fidgeting with his fingers.

“There is always something to talk about.” She giggled giving him a nudge, breaching the invisible barrier between them. Sending electricity through his arm.

He cleared his throat “Like what?”

“Like…I’m sure you are hungry. Would you like me to fetch you some food? I can leave you to your solitude for a moment.”

So’lek’s face finally broke a smile. “I would appreciate that.”

As she left, So’lek couldn’t help but revisit their conversation in his mind. Her teasing, her laughter, the way she radiated against the light of the storm. He didn’t realise he was smiling until he caught himself doing it.

────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

authors note: hey!! I haven't wrote in so long but playing afop i have been inspired. thankyou for making it this far! there will certainly be a part 2. reblogs and comments are always appreciated my lovelies

“You’ve heard the news,” he said, “I have received proposals for your hand.”

“One caught my attention,” he continued. “Lord Cregan Stark has written. He seeks to marry you and bring you north.”

You sat rigid, heart pounding. “Winterfell?” you whispered. “The North?”

He nodded.

“You know northern men are savages.” you said, voice trembling. “And, their winters never end.”

Your mother, also worried, added quietly, “He must be a brute... Surely there is a gentler lord?”

Your father stared at you both, unmoved. “He has a strong army, a great house. With the war, I want this alliance sealed, immediately.”

• ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── •

The next morning, the carriage was ready, your belongings already packed: dresses, nightgowns, books to keep you entertained, and your small dog nestled in a blanket on the seat beside you.

As the carriage left the familiar walls of your home, your heart sank. Your dog whimpered softly and looked at you for comfort. You stroked its head and whispered, “We’ll be alright” but you were not certain about it either.

• ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── •

The trip to Winterfell took forty days. At first, the roads were smooth and the sun was warm. You passed green hills and quiet rivers, and for a while, it felt more like a long ride than a farewell. You spent your days reading in the carriage, your dog curled up beside you, and your maids chatting softly behind the curtains.

But as the days went on, everything changed. The trees grew thinner, the sky turned gray, and the wind came sharp through the cracks in the carriage. The farther north you went, the colder it got. You started wearing wool under your dresses, wrapping yourself in every blanket you had packed, but it never felt like enough. At night, you could see your breath when you spoke, even inside the carriage.

Your dog huddled close for warmth, shivering a little, and you held it in your lap, whispering that everything would be alright.

By the time you were halfway there, the ground was dusted with frost even in the morning, and you had developed a cough that worsened with every stop. Your maids tried to keep your spirits up, but even they had stopped smiling as much. The journey became quiet, slow, and heavy, like the snow beginning to fall outside the windows.

On the thirtieth day, the first flakes of snow fell. You thought Winterfell must be even colder than that. Your nose burned from blowing your nose constantly, and by the time you disembarked at the gates, you had a fever.

The keeper at the gate informed you that Lord Stark was away at the wall, helping to organise supply lines. You felt a rush of disappointment. You had expected at least a greeting from your husband-to-be.

Sara Snow stands in the courtyard, arms folded, already draped in thick furs. She meets your eye with a nod.

“Welcome.” she says “Come inside before the cold stiffens your fingers.” “Thank you” you reply as you follow her inside.

Your maids hurry forward to help with your things. One of them whispers ‘Stay strong, milady.’

The halls echoed with your own footsteps. A few passing servants gave you short bows, but their eyes lingered on your clothes, your fine gloves, your southern style. Even your jewelry seemed too bright here.

Sara led you through the great hall. “You’ll want to meet Rickon before the evening meal” she said. “He’s two. Cregan’s son. I hope you find it in your heart to care for him from now on.”

“Of course” you replied, unsure of what else to say.

The nursery was quiet. A little boy with dark hair and pale skin sat beside a low fire, chewing on a wooden bear. A young nursemaid stood nearby, nodding at you before leaving. Sara crouched beside the boy.

“Rickon,” she said gently. “this is the lady your father will marry.”

Rickon glanced up at you, blinking solemnly. You knelt slowly, offering a soft smile. “Hello, Rickon,” you said. “It’s cold out there, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, but his gaze settled on your dog. He stood, waddled over, and gently touched its fur. Your dog let out a low huff and licked his hand. Rickon giggled.

You exhaled, surprised by how quickly you took a liking for the child. “He’s sweet.”

“He’s a Stark.” Sara replied, standing again. “Born in winter. He’ll survive anything.”

You stroked Rickon’s hair once, then let your hand fall. You were already exhausted, and the cold had settled deep in your bones. Your cough returned on the walk to your chambers.

Sara’s voice broke the quiet. “Milady, those southern dresses are too thin for our winds. You’ll freeze if you keep dressing like that. You would do well to learn our ways.” There was no warmth in her tone or her expressions.

You nodded, trying not to tremble. “Thank you.”

• ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── •

Your rooms were… modest. Not small, but everything was built for function, not luxury. Dark wood, thick furs, heavy curtains. Your maids unpacked in silence, hanging your gowns, all too bright, all too thin, beside plain northern cloaks that had been left in the wardrobe.

You sat by the fire, your dog curling up at your feet. “I feel out of place.” you murmured.

Elaine, the youngest of your maids, gave you a look. “They’ll warm to you,” she said. “They just don’t know you yet.”

You weren’t as hopeful. “These people don’t want a lady from the South. They wanted one of their own.”

That night, the stew in the hall was thick and hot, but you barely tasted it. Conversation hummed in the background as servants passed. Sara sat near the head of the table. You kept your head down, only speaking when spoken to.

The next day, snow still fell, and you hadn’t yet seen your betrothed.

When you asked Sara if Cregan would return soon, she only said, “Tomorrow, if the winds are kind.”

“He didn’t think to send a message?”

Sara’s face didn’t change. “He has men to feed and guard. He’ll come. You’re not the only burden on his shoulders.”

The words stung, but you said nothing.

• ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── •

Later that day, she brought you the gown you’d wear for the ceremony. It was gray wool, unadorned, thick and scratchy.

“I didn’t have time to have a dress made,” you said, eyeing it. “I brought my own, but-”

“They’re not suited for the weather. This one is. You can thank me later.”

You stared at the plain fabric. “It’s not… what I expected.”

Sara’s eyes met yours. “Neither was this marriage. You’ll wear it.”

When you were alone again, you sank onto the edge of your bed, staring at the flames. You missed your mother. You missed your father, even in his anger. You missed the songs sung in your courtyard, and the honeycakes your cook used to make just for you. Here, even the fires felt colder.

You wrote a letter to your mother that night, then tucked it away before sealing it.

• ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── •

The sky was grey when the horns blew from the distance. You rushed to the window, nearly tripping over your gown. Men had gathered in the courtyard, among them, unmistakable even at a distance, was Lord Cregan Stark.

He dismounted his horse, towering over the men around him. He was broad-shouldered and tall, face hard and handsome in a way that was somehow both noble and brutal.

When a knock came at your chamber door, you nearly jumped.

Sara entered, gaze cool. “He’ll come see you now.”

You nodded, smoothed your gown with trembling hands, and followed.

The corridor felt endless, your steps quick on the stone. You kept your head high, reminding yourself that you were no mere lady. Still, your hands were cold when you stepped into the receiving room.

Cregan stood by the fire, arms crossed. He turned when you entered, and for a moment, he simply stared.

“My lord,” you said, curtsying. “it is good to see you returned safely.”

He gave a short nod. “You arrived without trouble?”

“Yes, though the cold has been… challenging,” you replied with a small smile. “It’s far colder than I imagined. Even in summer.”

He stepped forward, closer but still keeping a respectful distance. “This is summer, my lady”

You tried again. “Winterfell is vast. I walked the gardens yesterday. There was snow still clinging to the branches.”

He looked away slightly, toward the fire.

“I also met your son” you said, more softly now. “Rickon. He’s lovely. He came right to me without fear.”

Cregan’s jaw shifted. “He’s usually shy with new faces.”

“I’m glad he wasn’t with me.” you said, hoping he would meet your gaze again. “He reminds me of my little cousin, curious, but quiet. I brought him a book. Stories from the south, with illustrations.”

“That was kind,” he replied. His voice was quieter now, but still flat. “He’s too young to read.”

“Still… I thought it might comfort him.”

He looked at you again.

“You need not try so hard,” he said at last. “We are to be husband and wife. That is enough.”

Something in your chest tightened. “I just… I hoped we might speak. I thought-”

The air in the room seemed colder than before. Your fingers curled at your sides.

He nodded once, as if that concluded the matter. “If you require anything, send for the steward. Sara can attend you if your maids are unfamiliar with the keep. I will see you at the ceremony.”

You opened your mouth to say something, anything to stop him from turning away, but he had already reached the door.

He paused there for a breath, then looked back. “I am glad you’re safe.”

And then he was gone.

You stood alone, heart aching, staring into the fire he had left behind.

He was handsome, and terribly polite.

• ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── •

Later that afternoon, you took a walk through the hall, your dog beside you. Your gown rustled with every step, blue silk with silver thread. You had chosen it carefully, trying to blend in. But the stares had already started the moment you arrived, and they hadn’t stopped.

As you passed a narrow corridor near the staircase, you heard some voices. You slowed your steps instinctively.

“I don’t care how great her family is.” a woman muttered. “She’ll never be a better lady of Winterfell than Arra”

“She doesn’t know our customs. She had a fox fur cloak, fox! Not even northern stitched.”

“I saw her reading at breakfast,” another said with a chuckle. “A book about courtly love. May the Gods help us.”

“And they say she’s to raise Rickon,” someone whispered. “After what Arra gave to bring him into this world? They’ve already forgotten her.”

You didn’t wait to hear more.

You turned, walking back the way you came. Your cheeks burned, your stomach twisted. They didn’t even lower their voices.

Back in your chamber, you shut the door and pressed your back to it.

“She gave her life,” you whispered to yourself. “and I’m just the stupid girl who wears silk and doesn’t belong in Winterfell.”

Winterfell was colder than snow. And so were its people.

• ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── •

The morning of your wedding, the cold seemed crueler, as if Winterfell itself wanted to remind you you did not belong there. You sat at your vanity in silence while your maids did your hair, curling and braiding it. The dress Sara had insisted on laid folded on the bed.

You didn’t touch it for a long while. You stared at your reflection, face pale and heavy eyebags from days of little sleep. Even your lips looked colorless.

Elaine offered you a cup of tea, “You’ll feel better once the vows are spoken, milady.”

You looked at her through the mirror. “Will I?”

She hesitated. “Perhaps not right away. But he’s your husband. You’ll grow into this place.”

You didn’t answer. Your eyes drifted to the window again, where snow fell slow. There were no bells. No flowers. No guests from your homeland to celebrate your union.

Eventually, you dressed. The gown fit just right, but it didn’t make you feel in any special way. Only your wedding jewels gave a hint of color, delicate emeralds, a gift from your mother, and apparently too bright for this place.

The ceremony was held in the Godswood. A short, cold affair beneath the great weirwood tree, its red leaves falling from its branches. A few northern lords and ladies stood by as witnesses, wrapped in furs. No one smiled.

Cregan waited near the tree, wearing a dark cloak. When he saw you, he gave the slightest smile. He complimented you, and you nodded in response. He didn’t reach for your hand until the Septon gestured for it.

You stood side by side before the old gods and the new. Your gloved fingers barely touched. You could feel the tremble in your own hand, though you prayed he couldn’t.

The Septon’s voice was low.

“Do you, Lord Cregan Stark, take this woman to wife, to cherish and protect until your last day?”

“I do.” Cregan said.

His voice was steady, but not warm.

“Do you, my lady, take this man to husband, to honor and serve, until your end?”

“I do.” you replied, your throat tight.

When it came time to speak your vows, you forced your voice not to tremble.

“I take you, my lord, not for glory nor gain, but in duty, and in good faith. I will honor your house, raise your son as my own, and stand with you through storm and frost.”

Cregan replied in turn.

“I take you, my lady, not for softness nor song, but in duty, and in trust. You will keep my hearth, and bear my name, and I shall shield you from wind and war.”

• ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── •

The septon gave the final blessing, and you turned to Cregan just in time to see him step forward. His hand lifted, firm and callused, and cupped your cheek, giving you a soft peck on the lips.

The crowd gave a cheer, though no one shouted your name.

And then the feast began.

The great hall of Winterfell had been decorated with pine boughs and candleholders. The long tables were overflowed with roasted meats, some vegetables, warm breads and thick stews.

Cregan sat at your side at the high table, but barely looked at you once the food arrived. He drank deeply, laughing as other northern lords made bold toasts and crude jokes.

You watched him loosen the collar of his cloak and throw his head back in laughter after a tale about a bear fight on the Kingsroad.

You smiled politely when people looked your way, but no one truly spoke to you. You had no friends at this table. None of your family had come.

“Where is Rickon?” you asked softly, trying to bridge the distance between you.

Cregan turned his head toward you. “Abed already,” he said. “he’s too small for such noise. He sleeps like a bear.”

You nodded, unsure what else to say. “I thought perhaps he could’ve-”

He had already turned away again to laugh at something Lord Dustin had said.

You watched him, your new husband, surrounded by people who actually understood his jokes, which reminded you, you were still an outsider.

“Seven hells,” Lord Roderick said, clapping Cregan on the back. “you truly found yourself a jewel from the south.”

Cregan smirked. “Aye, I have been blessed by the Gods with such a beauty.”

You kept your eyes low, cheeks hot.

Lord Dustin leaned in toward Cregan, his voice loud enough for you to hear. “She’s a southerner. But she’s here now. The cold will make her northern quick enough.”

Someone laughed loudly. “And if it doesn’t, the Stark bed might.”

The lords chuckled, but not cruelly, just old men with old jokes.

Cregan said nothing, but you felt the tension in his arm beside yours. He didn’t smile at their jokes, nor laugh. He simply drank and watched.

“To the bedding!” a voice shouted.

The crowd responded with roaring approval. “To the bedding! Strip them bare and warm the sheets!”

You stiffened.

Ladies surrounded Cregan, pulling at his cloak, laughing as they undressed him.

“You’ve had your feast, my lord,” one woman teased, her fingers on his chest. “Now let’s see if you’ve the strength to finish the night.”

“Don’t trip on your own boots, Stark!” called another. “You’ll want to make a good impression!”

Cregan chuckled, allowing himself to be tugged forward, his boots brushing the floor as the women led him toward the chamber.

On the other side of the room, the lords surrounded you.

“Easy, my lady.” said one with a crooked grin. “We’ll carry you like a princess.”

“She looks like she might faint already.” said another, loosening your gown’s laces. “Afraid of your lord husband, are you?”

“Don’t be,” one added, too close to your ear. “He’s a gentle beast. Most nights.”

You tried to squirm away as hands found the ties of your dress, laughing as they pulled it looser.

“Hold her tight, lads. She’ll bolt otherwise.”

They lifted you off your feet. Your breath caught in your throat.

You let out a fake laugh, trying to keep your dignity.

As they carried you through the halls, you saw Cregan ahead, already bare to the waist, his cloak gone, his shirt half-unlaced. He turned briefly as your eyes met. He gave you a smile, the kind meant to reassure, but you were shaking.

The door opened.

They tossed you gently into the room, your half-undone gown falling.

Cregan entered moments later, followed by the final chorus of cheers from the departing guests.

The door shut behind him.

You stood there, arms crossed, shoulders trembling. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“I’m sorry.” Cregan said after a moment. “They meant no harm.”

You swallowed. “It’s just… it’s not how we do things in the south.”

“I know.” His voice had softened slightly. “It’s a tradition here. Old as the trees.”

“I’ll let you undress.” he said, stepping back toward the hearth.

You hesitated, then reached behind you. The dress slid off your arms, then your hips. You were left in only your underclothes.

Cregan came back toward the bed.

You climbed in slowly, lying on your side, facing the wall.

He slid under the furs beside you, and for a moment, there was only warmth and the faint sound of the wind outside.

He touched your shoulder, gently.

“Look at me.” he said.

You turned, slowly.

He kissed you, not harshly but you didn’t feel anything.

His hand slid over your hip, then to your thigh. You stiffened.

He paused. “I’ll be gentle.”

You nodded, but you couldn’t find your voice.

When he entered you, it burned, a slow, burning pain that made your eyes water. You gripped the fur beneath you, holding your breath. Your whole body tensed, unsure of whether to fight or endure.

Cregan didn’t speak.

It didn’t last long.

He moved inside you with slow thrusts, the scent of wine on his breath, his skin warm against your chest. You winced more than once, but bit your lip to keep from making a sound.

When he finished, he let out a low groan and dropped beside you, pulling the furs over both your bodies.

His breathing steadied.

Moments later, he was asleep.

You laid there, legs sore, a dull ache between your thighs. His seed was already streaming down your thighs.

Your eyes welled.

You turned to your side and let the tears come out.

You were no longer just a girl.

You were now lady Stark.

That escalated, when he randomly spotted you in the middle of the woods while he was on duty. He frowned upon seeing you tangled in a bush, with a lit blunt firmly in between your lips. He hesitated over approaching you, doing it with haste, as he deliberately exited the car, afraid he was mistaking you for someone else, but no, it was you. 

He could recognize you from a mile away, not even the bush of weed covering the majority of your face could change that. The boy aimed the flashlight in your direction, halting before he muttered your name, causing you to freeze in your spot. 

The lighter in your hold drops to the floor, leaving you fisting nothing but your manicured fingernails as they dug into the flesh. Your blood ran cold, and you suddenly felt helpless, as a rush of embarrassment washed over you. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, hoping this would be a dream, one of your stupid little thoughts, but no, it was really him; Jun-ho. Yeah, you're screwd. 

Why did he of all people have to see you like this; when you do idiotic stuff out of pure stress. You've been overwhelmed the whole day, uncapable of cheering up, till you randomly found a joint lying around in your drawer, leading to you tippy toeing out of the house, and heading towards your go-to place when you wanted to smoke. 

Typically, no cops hung around the area, but today, life had other plans for you, ones not so bad. 

"Is that you?" He continued his unfinished sentence from earlier, gaze shifting down to the joint you smushed to the floor. "What are you doing here?" 

"Jun-ho!" You squealed with fake excitement, stumbling as you stood to your feet. "What are you doing here?" 

"Jus' doing my job, an' you?" One of his brows curled with suspicion, hand finding the curve of his hip. "What's a girl like you doing out here? Aren't you afraid something might happen to you?" 

"A girl like me? C'mon, you think I can't handle myself?" you scoffed, tone hinted with sarcasm. You dusted the dirt off your skirt, leaning down with a purpose, in hopes of Jun-ho stealing a glance at your pink lace-panties, covering nothing, and exposing the shell of your ass. "Besides, you're the one who looks afraid."

"Yeah, obviously," he admitted with shame, stammering out of frustration. "What will your brother say when he knows you're out at such a late hour?" 

"Relax, old man, I'll be fine." You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Unless you decide to snitch on me..." 

That shoots blood through his veins, clenching his jaw over your attempt to get under his skin. He knows what you were doing, aware of your intentions to mess with him, and fool his already hazy brain into thinking your tone was flirtatious. 

"Get in the car," he demanded, dismissing you with his chin as he took a few steps in your direction, eyes narrowing when he took a whiff of the stiff air. "Were you smoking?" 

"No." You swiftly shook your head, though your tense expression gave the lie away. 

"Yes you were," he insists, directing the flashlight to your feet, and bending down when he spotted the freshly lit blunt now flattened to the floor. "Have you not learned your lesson? How many times did your brother tell you not to smoke? Marijuana, of all things."

"It's one time thing!" You exclaimed, throwing your arms up in the air. "Don't hold it against me, I was stressed. Now, please don't tell my brother, you know how he gets when he's angry." 

"You think I'll let you off easily?" He muttered, statement somewhat threatening. "I can arrest you for this, you know drugs are illegal, right?"

"But you won't," you tried to cut through the tension heaving the air, attempt falling short when it didn't crack a smile out of the latter. "You're not going to arrest me for that."

"Try me." He clicked his teeth, standing with his chest to your back. He hesitated to reach for your arm, fingers deliberately clutching around your wrist, forcing your forearm to the low of your back. 

Jun-ho repeated the action with your other hand, a breath knocking out of your chest when the sound of a click erupted through your ears, ringing as he locked the handcuffs in place, loose yet firm around your wrists. 

"Wait, you're being for real?" Your eyes widened with shock, an inaudible gasp escaping your throat when he led you towards the car, using the arm to your shoulder to push through the muddy road. "Get these off of me, this is not funny, Jun-ho!"

"Never said it was." He snorted, pinning you to the hood of the car, and fumbling through his pockets to seek the keys hidden in there. "You've been such a bad girl, need someone to do somethin' abour it." 

Your stomach churns with butterflies, somehow turned on by the statement. His tone, it was low, hushed, full of lust deep under all the lies he'd force through his teeth. 

Jun-ho is hot, you weren't one to deny that, however, your insides stirred with more than passing emotions that confuse you whole everytime he was around. Heat radiated off your entire body, the in between your legs specifically, and your knees went jelly, seizing control of your body once you leaned down, till your chest pressed to the hood of the car. 

The action earns a scowl out of the brunet, feigning oblivion to the way his cock twitched in his pants when his gaze landed on your lace panties, now peaking from underneath your skirt. The scene left little to the imagination, he wanted nothing more than to pull the thin fabric of your underwear to side, and pound into you till you no longer were able to coherent normal words out; only able to remember his name through your fuzzy, fucked out brains. 

"What are you doing?" He questioned, forcing his eyes back on your face, bent to the side as you tried to steal a glimpse at him from over your shoulder. 

"Obeying your orders," you mumbled, "I've been a bad girl, officer, need you to do something about it." 

You wiggled your ass around, till the material of your skirt rid up, revealing the plush flesh hidden underneath. The faint moonlight lightly beamed over the skin, creating a small shadow that would've gone unnoticed if Jun-ho's gaze wasn't burning into your soul. 

"Want me to do something about it?" He repeated through a breath, voice shaky, desperate like a loser getting his dick wet for the first time. "Fuck, you can't pull shit like this an' expect me to hold back." 

"Don't hold back." You whispered, lips gaping in a moan when his leg pressed to your heat, patience wearing thin as he resisted the urge to tear your panties apart. "You want this too, don't you?" 

"Quit talkin'," He grunted, hand instantly landing on your ass. He almost shuddered, squeezing the fatty skin in between his fingers, then using the pressure of the touch to spread your cheeks out, and fix his gaze on the thin fabric of your panties now drenched with your juices. "Fuck, look at you, such a wet mess for me. Is this turning you on, huh? You enjoy getting humiliated to filth?" 

You mewled at the words, almost yelping when his fingertips grazed over your clothed clit, instantly growing sensetive from the touch. Jun-ho was fully hard now, the fabric of his pants growing tight. 

The sight was out of the world, better than his deepest fantasies, and the pornos he jerked off to while imagining you instead. Your pussy was calling out his name, craving to be touched, by him and him only. 

Jun-ho did not hesitate to drop to his knees, hot breath fanning over the flesh, as he leisurely tugged your panties down, letting them fall once they were loose around your knees. His fingers then travelled to your sides, clutching the waistband of your skirt, and using the elastic to push it up until it's levelled with your waist. 

Goosebumps broke out across your body when his thumb found your slick folds, gliding it from your entrance to your clit, with the purpose of spreading your juices around. 

You were so wet, he could easily slide a finger inside, and that thought alone had no reason making him this hard, underwear wet with a patch of pre-cum.  

"You need to be taught a lesson." He mouthed, lips mere inches away from your cunt. "So desperate and needy for me." 

"Mhmm." You hummed out, eyes falling shut when he planted an open-mouthed kiss to the back of your thigh. "'That feel good."

"Yeah?" He hushed out, littering wet, sloppy kisses to your thighs, trailing a path up to the inner part connecting to your folds. His thumb relaxed over your sensitive nub, leaving you no time to process the gesture before positioning his mouth to your folds. 

Your body jerked with pleasure, hands grasping into nothing as they sat in place beneath the fabric of your skirt, the sensation of his tongue causing you to crumble, as he searched through your folds like a man starved. 

"Fuck!" You whined, arching your back to chase after the fraction of his tongue swirling down from your entrance, to your clit. 

"There you are, that's my good girl." He muffled against your soaked cunt, sucking and nibbling on your sensitive nub, too drunk on your pussy juices to comprehend his surroundings, nor the fact that you were still in public. "Such a pretty pussy, only for me to fuck and worship."

A thrill of excitement rushed through your insides, the idea of getting caught increasing your arousal. Jun-ho was no good guy, but he wasn't a bad person either. He did his utmost to follow the rules; however, he was willing to risk it all, lose his job just to have you trembling underneath him while he fucks your needy hole with his tongue. 

Jun-ho's tongue swirled through your folds, now mixed with your arousal and his spit. He leisurely began increasing the pace, slowly but surely, till it was no longer bearable, with your own climax building up. 

He licked a stripe of your entrance, tongue moving up and down, till his mouth landed on your clit. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to your nub, making you yelp everytime his teeth would graze over the sensitive flesh. The latter took your fuzzy state for granted, flicking his tongue against your clit, overstimulating you whole, and spiraling a rush of adrenaline through your veins. 

"Jun-ho!" You mewled out, blinking through hooded eyes. You were sure bruises formed around your wrists by now, the repetitive contact of skin creating an uncomfortable, yet pleasurable sensation. "I'm so– I'm so cl–"

Your statement was soon interrupted when Jun-ho suddenly halted, stepping back to steal a glance at your achy cunt, now coated with his spit, as some of it trickles down your legs with a purpose. 

"Don't." He warned, giving your ass a squeeze, using the force of the gesture to tumble himself up. "Don't you dare fuckin' come, you hear me? I'm not done with you." 

"Well then hurry up." You coaxed through a breath, chest pressing against the hood of the car, making you feel dirty. "What are you waiting for?"

"Relax, doll, don't you want me to take care of you?" Jun-ho questioned, tone teasing, full with cockiness. "Wanna feel your desperate pussy clenching around me, y'know how long I'been waiting for that?"

Jun-ho wasted no time, unbuckling his belt, and messily undoing the buttons to his pants. He barely managed to tug the material down, striving to get it off with one of his hands, all while still squeezing and kneading the fatty flesh of your ass. 

"So fuckin' pretty n' perfect, hell, I can't believe I finally have you to myself." He grunted as your ass perked up, chasing after the fraction of his fingers. "Mhm, such a bratty little slut, using me to get off, huh? You know we can't be doing this." 

"No one will know," you hushed out, teeth digging through your bottom lip. "Jus' please– do something."

That was the only assurance he needed. Jun-ho pulled down his underwear, freeing his throbbing cock from the tight material. He was rock-hard, it was starting to hurt, tip glistening with pre-cum that kept leaking out. 

He lined his dick with your entrance, the sensation earning an audible gasp out of you, though he only inserted the tip inside, going in leisurely. He stroked his cock up and down, your hole, until it was coated with a glossy, wet layer. 

"Fuck," he hissed, lips parting with a shuddered exhale, watching as your cunt clenched around nothing, practically begging to have him inside you. The sight consumed his brain, eating at him alive. He bunched his shirt in a fist, positioning one of his hands on your hip, the gesture a mere act of closure. "Such a needy slut, begging to be fucked." 

He gave you no time to process the statement, thrusting his cock inside in one go. It caught you off gaurd, yelping as he filled your insides, slowly pumping in and out your hole, just until you got used to how big he was. 

"So big..." you trailed off, spit salivating in your mouth. "Feel' s' good." 

"Yeah?" He spoke through an exhale, heat radiating off his entire figure. He continues pounding into you, spreading your cheeks out to get a better view of your pussy as it squelches around him. "You like that? Wanna be a good girl for me?"

"Mhm." You desperately nodded, letting your eyes force shut. "Please, please, please, Jun-ho pleaseeeee." 

"Keep moaning my name, baby." He muttered through gritted teeth, reaching for your waist from beneath your shirt. "Show me who you belong to." 

Both of you were too far gone to care about anything other than his cock as he buries himself inside you. His thrusts increased in pace, and you could not have felt any better, he was so good at what he does, you almost felt jealous of all the other girls he's done this with. 

Jun-ho's arms sneaked their way around your waist, applying enough pressure to pull you up, until your back pressed to his firm chest. The gesture gave the latter more access to your entrance, now able to insert himself deeper, thought it felt impossible. 

His hands kept busy throughout the entire time, fingers landing on your cleavage, before he tucked down the collar of your shirt, to reveal your chest, freeing out your tits to the chilly air. He rolled and pinched at your nipples, kneading it afterwards to soothe away any pain.

Jun-ho's cock pulsed in and out of you, loud breaths filling the air, the atmosphere heavy with desire. He knew exactly what to do, how to please you, how to make you forget the guilt washing over your chest. You couldn't believe it; your dirty fantasies finally coming true, though it didn't feel real whatsoever. 

"Such a whore, offering yourself to me in public?" He stifled out a snort, fisting your hair in between his large digits. "Want me to fuck you here so everyone could see how desperate you are? Hmm, I guess you're not such a good girl after all." 

Your climax approached within every passing second, his hard cock pounding into you doing things to you. It was out of this world, no words could describe the rush of pleasure you were experiencing in the moment. 

"You' close?" He asked, noticing how shaky your legs got under him. "Come for me, sweet girl." 

The following few seconds fixed on you, not long before you came undone, announcing your own orgasm once your legs trembled with pleasure, overstimulated by the fraction of his cock deep and raw inside you. 

"Mhm, there she is." He grunted in your ear, walking you through your high, and his own arousal. "Wanna finish inside you, and make a mess out of your tight pretty hole." 

"Please." You obliged, throwing your head back, with one of your hands landing over his; where it laid flat on your chest. 

His thrusts grew wet and sloppy, coming inside you once his cock kisses your cervix, painting your walls white with his cum. The warmness of his sperm filled up your hole, earning a ragged breath out of the latter, finishing with a hefty groan. 

He took a pause, a smile tugging at his lips when his gaze shifted to you. You scoffed at the cocky grin smothered all over his face, suddenly growing flustered, as heat flushed your face. 

"Why are you staring?" You asked, tiredly fluttering your eyes shut. 

"No reason," he dismissed, caressing the skin around your waist. "You jus' look pretty." 

"Shut up." You attempted to shove him off, action falling short when your attention trailed to your cuffed wrists. "Can you get these off of me?" 

"Hmm," he trailed off, bending down to level his face with yours. He planted a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, whispering out his next words. 

"Only if you say please." 

It felt like a dream; a fever dream. And if this did truly happen, no one were to find out, especially your brother, that's for sure. 

Caleb’s jaw ticks dangerously when you don’t respond, pocketing his phone and turning back to the mission reports on his desk. 

But he finds concentration elusive, too distracted by the irrational possessiveness bubbling inside of him. Swearing, he pulls his phone back out. 

Nothing. 

His chest aches with an emptiness that can only be attributed to your absence. The same dull throb he feels when he can’t touch you—when you’re not in his field of vision. Which, lately, seemed more often than not.

Even for his birthday week in Skyhaven it seemed like Gideon got your attention more than he did. He knew the two of you were friends. Beyond the silly nostalgic times the three of you had shared during his time at Skyhaven University and Aerospace Academy, Gideon had been there for you during the hardest time of your life. 

Fucking Gideon.

Caleb sulks childishly to himself. The logical part of him knew that the two of you were probably meeting up to scheme something for his birthday. He trusted Gideon with his life, which wasn’t something he could say about many people these days. 

He shouldn’t be jealous. Rationally, he knew that.

But, when it came to you, he tended to be anything but rational.

“Colonel? Sir?”

An unexpected voice cuts him out of his thoughts. He pockets his phone, quickly masking his expression. The pout he didn’t even realize he wore slides off, replaced by the calculated and authoritative Colonel’s mask. He snaps without even realizing it—much harsher and sharper than he normally was with his subordinates.

“What?!”

The lieutenant standing on the other side of the desk gulps nervously, bowing his head respectfully. In less than a fraction of a second, Caleb collects himself.

“Apologies. What do you need, Lieutenant?”

God, he could use a drink. 

–

You adjust the string of twinkling lights you’d strung up on the couch in Caleb’s living room. Biting your lip, you fluff up the adorable apple shaped plushie that sat on the furniture. 

Spinning around, you take one last quick once over of the space.

The countless wrapped presents you’d gotten for him were tastefully scattered about, the projector set up against the wall just how you wanted it, every balloon meticulously placed. His living room, albeit much homier now that you’d basically taken over his life like a tornado, was normally still a bit bare. But now, it looked like something out of a dream.

Perfect.

It was the first birthday you’d be celebrating with Caleb ever since the explosion. Now that things were finally somewhat settling down into a comfortable routine, you wanted to show Caleb just how much you’d missed him—cherished him. Starting with his birthday. 

The first of a lifetime of birthdays you would share together. You’d make sure of that. 

Your phone buzzes with a text, the screen lighting up with Gideon’s contact.

[8:15 PM] Gid: Let me know how Xia reacts! Good luck.

[8:15 PM] Me: i will! thank u for helping me set up again gideon!!

Your heart clenches as you catch the unread text message from the birthday boy himself. You’d been so excited to get the house ready that you’d completely forgotten to text him back. 

Just as you’re typing out a response, you hear the familiar sound of the front door clicking unlocked. Eyes widening, you set your phone down, carefully picking up the birthday cake you’d made and positioning yourself in the entry way that connects to the foyer.

Seconds tick by, the faint sound of fumbling making you set the cake down on the console table in a mix of confusion and worry. As you’re about to reach for the handle, the door pushes open—revealing Caleb.

In the dim entryway you don’t see how slightly disheveled he is, a flush creeping up his neck. You probably wouldn’t have seen it even if the light had been flipped on, far too excited to see him. To celebrate him. 

“Happy birthday, Caleb!” you squeal, all but forgetting the uncharacteristic fumbling, bounding up to him and wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and launching yourself into his arms.

Caleb grunts in surprise, completely taken aback but catching you by your waist all the same. His lengthy fingers spread to grip you tightly, securing you against his solid body. You’re so caught up in your excitement that you miss the odd way Caleb stumbles a step backward as he catches you.

“Well, early birthday,” you giggle, glancing at the clock. 

8:37 PM. You hadn’t even noticed how late it’d gotten. You crinkle your brows slightly, wondering how Caleb hadn’t caught you in your little scheme. You were well behind schedule, considering Caleb always got home at 7:30 on the dot with his military-disciplined punctuality. 

“I didn’t think I’d be seeing you,” Caleb murmurs into the top of your head, taking a deep inhale of your scent. 

You laugh into his chest, the smooth leather of his uniform digging into your cheek. You sigh happily as his hands wander up, wrapping his arms around you entirely. The entire elaborate birthday surprise is briefly forgotten as you sink into his hold, missing him terribly after not seeing him much this week as you ran around scheming.

“Smell so damn good,” Caleb’s voice is so muffled, his breath warm against your scalp. With his words obscured against your hair, you can’t hear his slight slur.

Taking a small step backward, you peer up at him. Your knuckles brush gently across his cheek, grinning as he adorably leans into your touch.

”How was work? You feeling okay?”

Caleb bends down to brush his lips against your temple, “I am now.” 

Your chest constricts, knowing you’d barely had time with him this week. Remembering why you’d had to avoid him all week, you eagerly tug him along to the living room that casts twinkling lights down the hallway like an absolute dream world. Caleb stumbles behind you, letting you pull him along.  

Just as you’re almost in sight of the surprise you’d set up, you stop in your tracks.

”Wait, wait!” You run behind him, tiptoeing up to cover his eyes with your hands, his skin hot and flushed against your palms. Distracted by your excitement, you push him along with your hands covering his eyes like a blindfold. 

Tripping against his heels due to the height difference, you whine and retract your hands, “Okay this isn't working. Close your eyes!”

Caleb chuckles breathily and complies, his violet eyes shutting, “Of course, pip-squeak.”

Once you’re sure his eyes are closed, waving your hands in front of him for good measure, you guide him the rest of the way into the once depressing living room, now a cozy paradise for just the two of you.

“Okay, open!”

Caleb’s eyes flutter open, hazy with a distinct sluggish fog that you’ve yet to fully notice. The mist clears in an instant as he takes in the scene before him.

His throat tightens at the transformation the Skyhaven house undergone. The only memories he used to have in this room were the gray storm clouds that floated just outside the floor to ceiling windows when he’d jolt awake from nightmares, covered in a cold sheen of sweat. 

Until you came back into his life.

Now, only the most pleasant memories remain. Takeout on the coffee table as you fed him dumplings cross legged on the carpet, him drying your hair as you sat in front of the glass panes watching jets fly by, you curled against his chest on the couch as movies played into the night.

The same couch that was now covered in balloons, fairy lights, and perfectly wrapped presents.  

Without a word, Caleb pulls you flush against his body, your back pressed firmly into his chest and his bicep wrapped securely around your shoulders. You burst into a fit of laughter as he buries his face into shoulder, nuzzling his nose into the side of your face. You hold onto his arm that’s around your chest, enjoying the way he leans into you. 

“So this is what you were up to, hm?” His breath is warm as it tickles you, his skin hot even under the thick layers of his uniform. 

“Yes,” you grin mischievously before turning to him with a question of your own, “What about you? You’re home late today.” 

Now facing him, the warm glow from dozens of twinkling fairy lights illuminating his handsome face, you notice how red Caleb is. 

His bright eyes finally flicker down, distracted by the picturesque scene behind you. His thumb brushes across your bottom lip, a familiar hungry glint in his violet eyes. Before wasting another second, he crashes his lips to yours and devours you like a man starved.

You moan as he gently demands entry—wanting more. His fingers hold you possessively, one gripping your hair and the other holding your chin as his tongue makes up for every minute he didn’t get to hold you this week.

But as you lose yourself in the kiss, the faint taste of alcohol snaps you back to the present. The flushed and clammy skin, the stumbling, the slight slur.

Pulling away, you take his face into your hands and look into his starry eyes,

“Caleb Xia, are you drunk?!”

Caleb blinks at you slowly, the tips of his ears pinkening at being caught red-handed. 

“No, are you?”

You burst out laughing as his eyes try their best to focus on you, “You are!”

Caleb grins crookedly at you, “No. I’m—hicc—Caleb.”

You roll your eyes at his ill-timed hiccup, dragging him to the couch and gently pushing him down onto it. He flops onto it unceremoniously, his arm resting atop one of the apple cushions and his thighs spread wide to let you stand between them. With his other hand, he loosens his tie, his Adam’s apple bobbing thickly under his uniform. 

You can’t help but dig your teeth into your lip at how unfairly attractive he’s always been, especially in a tie. The way he loosened it—the way he looked up at you with molten desire and longing flooding his features, nearly made your knees buckle under your own weight. 

“Wait here, dummy,” you brush his hair out of his eyes before turning away from him, intending to grab some water from the kitchen. 

Caleb’s fingers close clumsily around your wrist, yanking you back to face him. 

”Stay.”

He looks up at you with expectant eyes, his voice coming out soft and breathless. The plea is vulnerable as it is demanding.

”Spend my birthday with me.”

You smile reassuringly at him, stepping back toward him to press a tender kiss to his parted lips, the alcohol still lingering on his tongue.

”I’m just going to get you some water, okay? I’m not going anywhere. It’s your birthday—you get anything you want.” 

Caleb groans, almost a guttural growl, “Fuck. Don’t say things like that. N-Not when I’m like this.” 

The heat in his voice is undeniable, making your skin crawl with burning anticipation. 

“Water first,” you croak, “Then, whatever the birthday boy wants.” 

The drunken colonel pouts with distaste but lets you slip your wrist out of his grasp. Before you change your mind, you quickly make your way to the kitchen and grab a glass out of the cupboard and fill it with cool filtered water.

When you get back to the couch, Caleb looks considerably more inebriated as he plays with the silver tag of his necklace, dangling it in front of his face. When he sees you, his eyes light up and a lopsided grin appears on his face. ”Finally,” he slurs, reaching out for you, “Missed you,”

You roll your eyes, letting him hook his arm around your waist, yanking you to him, “I was gone for like two minutes.”

Caleb’s eyes scrunch as he pulls you back into the space between his legs, both arms looping around you.

”Two minutes too—hicc—long.”

Biting your chuckle back, you take his jaw into your fingers and tilt his face up at you, bringing the water to his lips, “Open up,”

Caleb’s eyes shine with mischief, “Kiss first.”

This time your laugh escapes, amused and utterly infatuated with his adorable demands. You argue, “Water first so I can sober you up. Then you can have as many kisses as you’d like.”

Caleb grumbles unhappily but obeys, his lips parting slightly and looking up at you expectantly. His breath is warm against your skin as you raise the glass back to his mouth, gently guiding his chin with your fingers.

As he drinks, you gently stroke his burning skin with your thumb. Despite protesting, he gulps the water down hungrily. 

But his sight is entirely trained onto you and not the cup, eyes flickering down the curves of your bare shoulder. In his heated appreciation, rivulets of cold liquid dribble down his chin, dripping tantalizingly down the bulge of his neck.

His thick eyelashes flutter back up, violet eyes meeting yours with unspoken heat and longing—compounded by the amount of times someone else had taken you from him this week.

With his face tilted up, drinking greedily from your hands, eyes wide and locked onto you with both appreciation and desperation, he looks unbelievably vulnerable. His thick arms still lock around your waist, refusing to let you go.

You swear you could stand there for an eternity just counting each of his long thick eyelashes as he looked up at you like his entire world revolved around you. 

When he finishes, you twist around to set the glass on the coffee table behind you. 

“So—”

You don’t get another word out before Caleb is pulling you down onto his lap and recapturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His touch is territorial and demanding, large palm cupping the small of your back, maneuvering you until you’re straddling him. His skin, damp from the spilt water, clings to yours as he picks up where he’d left off. His other hand squeezes the nape of your neck, leaving no room for escape.

The faint remnants of alcohol still linger on his tongue, but he tastes so distinctly Caleb that you can’t help but whimper and reciprocate with everything you have. His unrelenting hold makes you squirm, readjusting yourself more comfortably on his lap. 

Caleb curses, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, trying to keep you still while he begs into your lips, “Jesus princess, please stop moving like that.”

“Are you going to tell me why you’re drunk?” you counter, murmuring into his lips when he’s forced to let you go so he can hiccup. 

Caleb kisses down your jaw until his breath is at your ear, “Went to get drinks with Liam.” 

Your eyes widen in pleasant surprise, “Liam? But you guys don’t usually—”

“I thought that I wouldn’t see you ‘til tomorrow. Needed a distraction. So Liam offered,” he grumbles, sulking, “Gideon’s been taking all your time.”

Your heart throbs at his words. 

He didn’t want to be alone. 

“Gideon’s just been helping me plan and set up. Since he’s more familiar with Skyhaven than I am.”

Caleb’s eyes narrow at you, an adorable pout playing on his lips, words still slurred, ”Don’t tell me Gideon is going to pop out from behind the couch.” 

Grinning, you shake your head, “Nope. It’s just us tonight.”

His thumb brushes across your bottom lip, a familiar hungry glint in his violet eyes. 

“Good.”

With his lips still at the hollow of your neck, his lips latch gently onto your skin, sucking a blossoming red mark right where he was sure people would see. 

“He told me to—ngh—tell you hah-happy birthday though.” 

Caleb only grunts in response, face buried in your neck and fingers crawling up your thighs, playing with the lace seam of your panties.

“Also, Gideon is coming over tomorrow to—“ 

Caleb’s chest rumbles with a growl, his teeth nipping the forming hickey in warning, which elicits a yelp from you, “Say his name one more time, see what happens.” 

You giggle at his ridiculousness, “Colonel Xia, you’re so demanding when you’re drunk.”

Caleb grips your chin roughly, forcing you to level with him, “You want to see demanding, pip-squeak?”

His voice is gravelly and completely serious, making your knees buckle, even as you straddled him. You’d almost think you were the one who was drunk.

“Demanding is what I should’ve been when someone else was stealing you away from me all week.”

His fingers tauntingly trace your jaw, eyes dilated as they drink in every morsel of your increasingly heavy breath.

“Demanding is when I remind you that I’m not a man who shares, not what’s mine.”

The heat that radiates off his body is palpable, the aura of drunken jealousy-fueled dominance and possession dripping off of him. It makes your core ache.

“Demanding is this,” Caleb takes your wrist into his hand, bringing it to the space between your bodies. He closes your finger over something warm, hard, and throbbing under his slacks. 

Your breath catches in your throat as Caleb looks at you, his eyes darkened to a near indigo. His own breaths accelerate considerably with his bulge in your delicate hands, forcing himself not to thrust into your fingers.  

“So?” he rasps, “Are you going to take responsibility for this?”

You gulp, tearing your eyes away from the way he strains against the confines of his pants, absolutely tented and bricked up. 

“Anything you want. It’s your birthday.” 

Caleb swears quietly, chest heaving as he watches your eyes flutter at him—seeing how utterly serious you are about serving him. 

“On the floor then,” he croaks, fingers softening their hold on you so you can climb off his lap and onto the floor before him, right between his open thighs.

“Get on your knees for gege.”

The carpet is rough against your skin as you kneel before him, carefully undoing his belt and freeing his throbbing erection. As it springs free, nearly hitting you in the face, you press his burning wet skin into your palm. 

Caleb groans as soon as you touch him, hips bucking off the couch involuntarily. He pants for air, unbearably sensitive from not only the alcohol, but from the simmering ache of jealousy that still lurks beneath his skin. 

You give him a few firm pumps, mesmerized as your fingers catch pearly drops of his copious arousal. He was so pent up—leaking so much need—that you’d think he’d already cum.

“Fuck—take me in your mouth,” Caleb commands, guiding you just how he liked it. You giggle at his demands, darting your tongue out to catch the beads of precum making its way down his thick shaft. 

Caleb groans, his fingers digging into the soft apple cushion, “God—that fucking tongue…”

When you finally sink him into the warm wet recesses of your mouth, Caleb threads his fingers into your hair, gripping tightly. 

“More,” he croaks—your name spilling from his lips like a prayer, stroking your scalp, “Need more.”

You hum, slowly taking him deeper into your mouth and eventually your throat. Caleb unconsciously thrusts into you, unable to control himself when you take him this well, this obediently.

“Jesus, baby,” he grunts, his restraint hanging on by a thread, “The things you do to me…”

His chest heaves as you take him fully, your lips pressed against his pelvis. You can feel your panties becoming increasingly wet as he praises you. Wanting to hear more, more of his addicting noises, more of his filthy praises, you progressively go faster. Exactly how he liked it.

“F-Fuck—fuck!” Caleb throws his head back with his slurred cries of ecstasy, “Need to flood that perfect fucking throat.”

Whining, your enthusiasm soars, the prospect of his finish fueling your own excitement. Your tongue teases the throbbing vein that crawls up the underside of his girth, knowing how insane it always drives him. 

Caleb’s pushing your head down now, his pleasure bursting the dam of restraint.

”Hah—close, princess,” he looks down at you with pleading hooded eyes, his cheeks red with both the flush of alcohol and the pleasure of your wicked tongue. 

“Look at me.”

If it was one thing Caleb loved, it was making you look into his eyes as he filled you. 

He lifts your chin just slightly, throbbing as you peer up at him through your wet eyelashes. 

“God—you’re so damn beautiful. All fucking mine.” 

At the sight of your teary eyes fluttering up at him, cheeks hollow as you devoured him, lips puffy and kiss bitten, Caleb explodes without a further warning. He coats every inch of your mouth, your throat, with himself. 

You do your best to take every single drop, but it inevitably dribbles down your lips as you choke lightly. 

“Swallow,” Caleb rasps, animalistic hunger dripping from his words. His thumb presses into your bottom lip, collecting rivulets that had escaped and popping his finger into your mouth, “All of it.” 

Even without his demand, you would’ve done just that. With your eyes never leaving his, you dramatically gulp, letting your tongue caress his digit as you pull yourself off.

As soon as your lips leave him, he’s hoisting you up by your waist, throwing you under his body and onto the plush couch. He hovers above you, using his knee to part your thighs, nearly coming in contact with your soaking panties.

“So fucking good for me. My good girl.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to speak, his lips coming down to claim yours. You gasp as his tongue invades your mouth, giving him easy access to you. You’re still salty with the taste of his own finish, yet so unbearably sweet with your own unique taste, only making him more eager. Feverish. Frenzied. 

His hands are everywhere, under your skirt, in your hair, gripping your chin. Every moan, every whimper—he consumes with desperation bordering on insanity. 

Too lost in the passion of his lips, you hardly notice when the two of you roll off the couch. You can vaguely hear the clatter of something falling, feeling Caleb’s hand move against the back of your head and tailbone—shielding you from the impact. 

“Oops,” Caleb grins, lips puffy, still hovering above you, “Got carried away.”

Laughing, your fingers reach up to take his face into your hands. He leans into your touch, turning his face so he can brush a wet kiss into your palm. The floor is hard against your back, the carpet giving you rugburn, but with Caleb above you, it feels perfect. 

“How are you feeling now?” 

Caleb’s eyes hungrily trail down your body, perfectly pinned under his. His eyes darken, hooded with desire that’d hardly been quelled. 

His voice is a gravelly slur, “Feel like…unwrapping some presents.”

Your heart races as his fingers snake up your arm, finding the black straps of your dress. 

“Caleb…”

With one gentle tug, he unravels the neatly tied ribbons on your shoulders. His throat bobs hungrily as he takes you in, fingers tracing heated paths down your skin while he pulls the bodice of your dress down slightly to expose more of you to his ravenous eyes.

“You wrapped yourself up so beautifully for me,” he swears under his breath when he unveils your intricate lingerie, your nipple visible just beneath the lace.

“Fuck.”

He can’t stop himself from dipping down, capturing your breast even through the sheer fabric of your bra. 

“Caleb–w-wait!” you cry, not convincing even yourself. Your eyes roll heavenward, arching into his hot demanding tongue even through the uncomfortably feeling of wet fabric.

He nips playfully at your sensitive peaks, looking up at you through his eyelashes, eyebrows hooded with hunger. 

His breath is so hot it makes you writhe with need as he speaks into your skin, “Wait for what, princess? I’ve been waiting all week.”

You chuckle breathily before peeling into a pleasured squeal when he bites down, gently but firmly, “F-Fine. Only because it’s your—mmngh—birthday!”

Caleb chuckles darkly, releasing your other nipple with a wet pop, “Are you sure about that, sweets?”

He makes a show of raising the skirt of your dress, the rug fibers tickling your thighs. Drinking in each and every one of your delicious mewls, he smirks, “If I recall correctly, you’re always good at taking orders from your Colonel.”

You’re about to retort, fiery sass on the tip of your tongue, when Caleb flicks your swollen clit—precise and intentional. Your cry is sharp as it is pleasured, your fingernails digging painfully into the carpet, thighs closing against Caleb's solid body. 

“Caleb!”

He grins, “Yeah, baby?”

“You know what—ngh fuck!” You’re cut off again when he lowers his head to lick a hot wet stripe down your slit, all the way to your throbbing clit, right through the fabric of the lace panties.

“Fuuuck, did you get this wet just from sucking gege’s cock?” he groans, breath hot against your trembling sensitive lips, “You spoil me.” 

As soon as the pleasure comes, it disappears, Caleb withdrawing with a crazed look of mischief in his galaxy eyes. 

“Say it.”

You whine, your hips bucking up—instinctively chasing Caleb’s touch. He pushes you back down, his palm flat against your stomach and lips latched into the soft skin of your inner thigh. So close to where you need him most.

“Say it.”

Caleb is drunk off something entirely different now, making little to no sense as his tongue darts out to sample you again. 

“F-Fuck—say what?! What do you want me to—mmngh—say?”

He lifts your ruined panties to the side, eyes dilated with pure hunger. Unable to stop himself, even when he wants to tease you, he leans back in. His tongue parts your lips, teasing your entrance. 

Words vibrating into your soul, he grunts, “Say you only take orders from me.” 

Deciding to give in, lest he take away the pleasure just as it began, you sit up on your elbows, “Only you Caleb. Only ever t-take orders from my gege.” 

Caleb’s fingers tighten around your thighs, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the weight of his desperate breaths. His eyes, delirious with hunger, lock onto yours as he leans back on—fully ready to devour you now. 

“And you look so damn perfect doing it.” 

You fall backward as Caleb tugs you forward, lifting you until your pussy was level with him as he sat up. You’re surprised when your head hits a soft apple plush, gut fluttering as you realize Caleb had used his Evol to position the pillow when he’d yanked you towards him.

He was always thinking of you—protecting you.

Just as your skull thumps gently into the cushion, he buries himself in you, so eagerly that his teeth nearly knock into your fevered skin. He’d spent so many hours which his tongue nestled inside you that he could practically draft blueprints on exactly how you liked it. 

Slow. Attentive. Devoted.

And Caleb was always an over-achiever.

With you stretched out on his tongue, his nose brushing insistently into your hardened clit, he shows you the utmost reverence, worshiping you like the absolute perfection you were.

“O-Oh god Caaleb—! Just like that. Please don’t stop.”

He grunts in approval, letting his deep voice vibrate against your quivering skin. Diligently coaxing your orgasm from you, Caleb inserts one of his skilled fingers. Then two. 

“Never going to stop,” he moans into your core, “That’s what I want for my birthday. To be inside of you forever.”

You whine at his words, his fingers easily finding your soft g-pot, “W-Want that too. Hah—please, gege.”

Caleb nearly snarls at your breathy words, fingers digging into your skin.

“That’s my fucking girl,” he growls into you, coaxing you deliberately, “You know exactly who you belong to, hm?”

You whimper, nodding eagerly as he purposely drags his nose against you. Caleb nearly goes feral at your intoxicating scent, needing your orgasm more than he needs his next breath.

“Cum for me, baby,” he murmurs, voice deep and velvety, “It’s my birthday, right? Show me how much you need me.” 

His lips gently close over your aching nub, sucking hard. Your eyes widen when the pads of his fingertips, deep inside you, stroke demandingly against your most sensitive parts, all but ensuring your heavenly downfall.  

Back arching deeply, the end of your spine digging painfully into the hard floor, your body gives him the thing he’d wanted above anything else, any other gift. 

“Nnngh—feels so fucking good. I-I can’t—no more!…Cumming!” 

Caleb’s chest rumbles as his tongue skillfully catches every drop of your climax, holding your thighs firmly as they quake uncontrollably against him. 

You’re a whimpering mess, never quite able to get used to just how devotedly he tends to you. Your chest heaves as Caleb sets you back down, wiping his shiny lips with the back of his hand. 

“Thank you, princess.”

Vision blurry, you sit up on shaky arms to watch him. He fists his cock slowly, already hard and wanting again.

“You did not just thank me for sex,” you laugh breathlessly, making a face at him. 

Caleb grins, gently pinning you back to the floor. One hand restrains both of yours while the other tilts your chin up at him. 

“Think of it as…thanking you for the best gift I’ve ever received.”

Caleb carefully chooses his words, fully intending for you to pick up on the double meaning behind them. You were the greatest thing in his life. 

“More?” Caleb asks breathlessly, his wide violet eyes desperately pleading with yours, but fully prepared to stop if you needed a break. 

“More. Don’t tell me the birthday boy is an old man already,” you grin at him playfully. 

Caleb smirks, devastatingly handsome, leaning down to brush his lips tauntingly against yours. 

“Brat.”

He firmly cups the back of your head and claims your lips—deliciously bruising and punishing. 

With both his hands, he pins your wrists on either side of your head, rendering you completely pliant at his mercy. 

“I might be one year older,” he murmurs as he kisses down your neck, selectively leaving hickeys on your most sensitive parts.

“But I am still perfectly capable of satisfying my girl.”

Caleb presses his lips to yours, consuming you entirely and irrevocably. The taste of alcohol had completely faded away, leaving only the taste of the man you’d loved all your life. The taste of excitement, desperation, longing, and possession.

You feel him use one hand to line himself up with your entrance, entering your with one measured thrust. He swallows your pleasured gasp, pinning your hands back down gently, fingers carefully intertwining with yours.

“Christ,” Caleb groans, his lips still brushing against yours as he gently rolls his hips into you, “Tight little cunt, s’all mine, right?”

“Caaleb,” you moan brokenly, a mix of your release and his saliva making it much easier to accommodate his thick girth, “Nngh—more. Please.”

Caleb growls, his pelvis hitting your thighs with a powerful pitched clap. It’s enough to fuck your breath out of you, your body sliding up against the rough rug painfully. The feeling of his leaking cockhead claiming every sensitive spot inside of you makes the pain of the friction fade away, your eyes rolling back deeply. 

Your needy words go straight to Caleb’s cock, quelling the irrational jealousy that’d been brewing inside him and fueling the possessiveness he felt over you. 

Caleb grabs a throw pillow off the couch, lifting you effortlessly to place it under your hips. The elevation gives him the perfect angle to repeatedly hit your g-spot as it brushed bruisingly into your cervix. 

“So greedy,” he whispers, groaning at the way you wring his cock, “Pussy’s so damn needy. You should see how you’re sucking me in, baby.”

Caleb straightens up, one of your legs wrapped around his waist and the other resting straight against his shoulder as he grips it to his body. He presses tender kisses into your ankle, a sharp contrast to the way he bullies himself into your tight heat.

“Hah—hear that?” he murmurs, fingers finding your clit, making the sounds of wet sinful pleasure even more pronounced, “That’s how much you need me.”

For how self-assured Caleb was in his everyday life, he sounded very much like he was convincing himself and not you.

“Course I need you,” you moan, reassuring the side of him that you know has been hurting this week, “Mmmngh—I’ll a-always need you. Always want you.

He kisses down your calf, so absolutely devoted to worshipping you—to showing you how much he needs you. When he reaches your knee, he wraps your leg back around him, lowering himself to your flushed face. His rhythm is intentional and powerful, each stroke meant to pleasure you and not him.

With your chin softly in his fingers’ grip, he croaks with finality, “You’re mine.” 

But this time it’s not demanding or possessive, but a desperate promise. 

“Show me, Caleb,” you encourage, his urgency fueling your own orgasm. Caleb’s jaw tightens, the bulge in his neck bobbing thickly. 

“Everyday,” he whispers into your mouth, nipping at your puffy lips, “I’ll show you, every fucking day.”

Closing the rest of the distance, Caleb captures you in a kiss that speaks volumes to how wholly you consumed him—how desperately he needs to be consumed by you.

You can tell he’s close, moaning unabashedly into your mouth, hips stuttering against your own trembling body. You can practically feel his cock throbbing as it tries to bury into your damn cervix, coating your walls in beads of precum. He’s pinned you by your wrists again, fingers stroking yours, needing the illusion of complete control over you.

Pulling away, saliva still connecting the two of you, Caleb groans as his balls tighten with that unmistakable tension, “Shit, you feel so good. I-I can’t stop.”

Your toes curl, digging into his back, “No–don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop.”

“Gonna—sh-shit—cum in you princess,” Caleb warns, “Need to fill you up. Haah—Need you to feel me for days.”

You cry out at his filthy promises, body tightening in excitement, his fingers releasing you in favor of finding both your hardened peaks, one hand at your clit and the other at your breast. 

“Jesus—don't squeeze me like that,” he pleads darkly, forcefully being pushed to his precipice, “You like that idea baby?”

Caleb’s fingers press down, eliciting the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard.

“Y-Yes!” you cry, so close to release you’d say anything if it meant you got to cum with his cock inside you.

His eyes darken, jaw ticking, your name a dangerous purr on his lips.

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Caleb’s hips snap painfully into your ass, once. He collapses on top of you, catching himself by his palms on the floor framing both sides of your face.

“Fuck—you’re so fucking perfect. Feels like heaven inside of you.”

Twice.

“Gonna let gege cum inside you, right princess?”

A third time.

“Sh-shit—gonna be able to smell me on you. In you.”

A fourth, final, time.

“You can take it, right baby? My good fucking girl.”

You cum with a strangled cry of his name, back arching against the cushion, fingers digging roughly into Caleb’s hair. There’s an uncomfortable wet splash that accompanies your climax, your entire body shaking violently against his faltering thrusts.

“Christ—!” Caleb groans, “Did you just squirt for me?”

Your explosion of ecstasy thrusts Caleb into his own violent release, the thick cords of muscles in his abdomen twitching as his body unleashes into yours, powerful and mind numbing. 

A bead of sweat falls from his skin to yours, his entire body strained with the force of his orgasm. Thick hot jets of his seed coat your aching walls, still pulsing insistently against his throbbing cock.

“F-Fuck I can’t…” Caleb’s groan is strangled, falling onto his elbows, careful not to crush you.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper quietly, voice weak, groaning as he twitches inside you.

“Ngh—can’t stop cumming,” Caleb grunts, his entire body shaking as he holds himself above you.

You look down at where your bodies are still connected, his hips still thrusting shallowly into you.

“Bear with me, princess,” he rasps apologetically. Your trembling hands reach up to gently hold his face, bringing it to yours.

You press a tender kiss to his parted lips, your tongue gently teasing his, encouraging him to ride out the waves of his orgasm. 

Caleb’s cheeks are flushed adorably red as you let him go, his hips finally stilling. Carefully, he gathers you into his arms, flipping the two of you around so that you lay on top of him, his body shielding you from the floor now.

He brushes his lips to your temple, whispering softly, “Best fucking birthday.”

At the mention of his birthday, you’re reminded of the birthday cake that was left forgotten on the entryway console table. Sitting up suddenly, you gently extricate yourself from Caleb’s hold, much to his pouty dismay. 

“Stay here, I’ll be right back!”

Caleb groans as he slips out of you against his will. If it was up to him, he’d spend his entire birthday buried inside of you.

But as you walk away on trembling legs, his cum drips down your thighs, giving Caleb the perfect view as he lays on the floor looking up at your retreating form. 

He feels himself hardening at the thought of his claim running down your legs tomorrow, when Gideon—

“Happy birthday!”

Caleb sits up on the carpeted floor to watch you return with a lit birthday cake in your hands, singing happy birthday. The cake has lost its form, having melted when it was forgotten out in the warmth of the house, much of the toppers pitifully drooping against their own weight. 

And yet, as you present it to him, beaming ear to ear, hair disheveled, dress hanging off your chest, thighs pressed together in an attempt to stop the sticky mess between your legs from dripping, serenading him…

He’d never seen anything more beautiful.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly when you finish the song, “It kinda got ruined, but—”

Caleb cuts you off with a tender thumb to your lips.

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

You blush, grinning up at him. 

“Make a wish!”

Caleb smiles ever-so-slightly, just the corners of his lips turning up, his fingers moving to cup your chin and tilt your face up at him. 

“What if I already have everything I’ve ever wanted?”

His violet eyes shine with a torrent of emotions that threatens to consume you whole, your own eyes stinging with feelings that threaten to escape. 

You bite your lip as he strokes your jaw, “Doesn’t matter. You have to make a wish.” 

You lift the cake so that it separates your bodies, the melting candle burning between your faces. Caleb chuckles before stepping back and closing his eyes. 

When they finally open, he leans down to blow the candle out. His eyes flutter to yours as he extinguishes the flame, conveying the magnitude of his words—his wishes. 

Every single one of them began and ended with you. 

As he pulls away, you ask him the same question you asked him every birthday. 

“What did you wish for?” 

Caleb laughs, taking the cake from your hands to set down on the coffee table, “My lips are sealed, pip-squeak. If I say, it won’t come true. And I really need this one to pull through.” 

Your eyes light up with unbridled curiosity, “Now you have to tell me!” 

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

“Nope.”

“Pleaaaaaase!”

“Quit it.” 

“Please, please, please!” 

Caleb turns to you as he pulls you down onto the couch with him, his amethyst irises bright with amusement and adoration. He couldn’t tell you what he really wished for—that in the next lifetime, he’d be able to find you and you’d let him take your hand again. If not that, then a seagull that could fly freely with you by his side, through the salty summer skies.

He chuckles, tucking your head under his chin, resting against your infinite warmth, “Fine” 

You look up at him in surprise, listening attentively, practically boiling over with curiosity. 

Caleb takes a deep breath, looking at you with seriousness that makes your heart hammer, “I wished that Gideon would stub his big toe on—“ 

Interrupting him by flicking his forehead, you tut playfully, “One year older and still a child.” 

Caleb grins, capturing your wrist before you can pull away and bringing your fingers to his lips reverently. 

“Good thing we have an entire lifetime of birthdays for me to grow up.”

© aeyumicore 2025.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

It was the North itself that truly drove her mad.

The people seemed too harsh and uninviting. There were no 'hello's when you passed someone on the streets. No smiles shared at various things. No, the people were just as cold as the air.

And the air was truly frigid. Cregan had sworn to her that this was spring for them. She had almost laughed in his face. There was still snow on the ground. That's far from spring.

She felt the need to prove her worth to her husband and her people. So she spent her days, nights, and all in between, buried in work.

…

"Where is my wife?" The Warden often asked. 

There was always something she was doing. He chalked it up to enjoying her time. Perhaps she was loving the North so much that she had a million things she wished to do.

"I'm not sure, my lord," one of the servants answered. "I don't believe she has left your chamber since the morning."

He leaned forward in his seat. "No?"

"No, my lord. Shall I fetch her for you?"

He frowned and waved his hand, dismissing the servant completely.

It was odd. A little too odd. But before Cregan could question it more, another servant entered and he was once again surrounded in work.

…

"My Lady," her handmaiden called after her, "You truly should stay in. You're unwell."

Lady Stark's appearance showed as much. Her face seemed pale, her steps feeble. Far too delicate for the North. 

Her hands were shaky as she reached for the wall to steady herself. "I am fine. I have too much to do."

"Perhaps I should get the Lord for y-"

"Do not!" She snapped with the only energy she had. She pushed off the wall with a heavy sigh. "Do not tell him, please," she added in a softer way.

…

Later, his steps pounded against the stone, each one resonating through the maze that was Winterfell. But his body knew exactly where it was going— straight to his lady.

Outside her room, he hesitated. What was his plan if she was under the weather? Or perhaps she wanted a simple day in? He would never be angry at her for that. He couldn't be angry at her at all.

A quick knock. Nothing. He waited another moment. When nothing came of it again, he pushed the door open. 

His wife was not there. He frowned and peeked down both sides of the corridor as if he had just missed her. 

He cursed under his breath and stomped his way back to his solar.

…

A few hours later, another servant came in. Cregan recognized her as his wife's handmaiden. He immediately stood up, trying to peek around her like his wife might be the next one through the door.

"Lord Stark," the woman hesitated. "I would not bother you if it was not an urgent matter."

"Speak," he immediately ordered. The thought of something happening to his wife caused a stir in his chest.

"Well… she's ill, my lord. I have tried to reason with her, but she refuses to rest."

He shifted his weight back and forth as he thought. Then, his arms stretched out over his chest, crossing one another. One hand quickly stroked his beard, then returned. "Why did she not tell me that this morning when I left her side? Fine. Ensure that she comes to supper."

…

His hand soothed over her forehead, brushing the hair away. Sweat had built up on her skin, gleaming in the light. "You should rest, my love. I can manage one meal without you."

"No," she reassured. "I feel fine."

She didn't feel fine. She hadn't felt fine for a few days now. She had waken up tired and had to focus on holding her head up at the table as they supped now.

"Wife," he softly reprimanded. "Your eyes are closing as we speak."

"'S just a chill. It will pass."

He sighed. He looked to the nearest servant. "Have this brought to our chambers, yes?"

She wanted to fight against his words but truthfully she was relieved. 

"Get up," he chided. "C'mon." He offered his hands to her as he stepped around her chair. 

…

That was yesterday, and now the morning had come. Cregan was worried. 

She laid in their bed, in a deep sleep despite the sweat that was across her brow.

A fever.

He had tried to wake her once- to no avail. She only mumbled incoherent sentences. So, he let her continue to slumber. But he had called for the maester immediately.

It took a while, but the maester showed. Cregan nearly threw his chair backwards from standing so suddenly. "Thank you for coming so urgently."

"'Tis no issue, my Lord. I serve the House." He looked around Cregan to Y/n. His brows furrowed. "Oh, dear."

That worried the Northerner exceedingly. ""S only a fever, is it not?"

"Yes, yes, a fever," the old man hummed. "Could be a horrid one. Is she hot to the touch?"

"Um… I'm n-"

The maester had already wandered over to her bedside and taken a seat. He placed a hand on her forehead and immediately sighed. "She has no injury or outward infection?"

Cregan was panicking. "No-"

"-Very well. There are… a few options, Lord Stark."

Stark began to pace the room, awaiting his girl's fate.

"We can let out the ill blood in her body-"

"-Absolutely not. I'll not have her pretty blood stain your hands."

The maester huffed. "Alright. Let me see… I believe I have coriander in my study. But that is just something on the side to do. It alone will not cure such a thing." He thinks for a while. "We could always… force her to purge."

Cregan paused. "Force her to what?"

"To puke."

His face grew pale. "That sounds awful."

"You're not giving me many options, my lord."

He was battling with himself, and the sight of her slowly dying in front of him was not helping his decision making.

"Ah. Thoughts on perhaps… cold bathing? It would force her temperature down."

Cregan once had to do that as a child. He didn't remember it being a pleasant experience. "How long must she be in the water?"

"Only a few minutes. And, of course, sponge bathe her while doing so in the warmer areas to ensure its fall."

It wasn't ideal, but Cregan didn't know what else to do. "Fine. Have it drawn in her private chamber while I wake her."

"Very well."

As the maester left, Cregan couldn't fight off the absolute dread in his stomach. He didn't want to do this. He couldn't do this to her. But he was out of options, and her life mattered more to him than trying to bargain with death.

"My love?" He cooed, sitting at her side. His hand ran over her forehead, pulling back the hair that stuck to her forehead. "My love, wake up for me."

She groaned, shifting away from his cold hand. 

His lips tilted up. He could imagine her commentary, as if she was well. "Please. You must wake."

When she gave him nothing, he had to grow more serious. 

"I said, you must wake up," he uttered in a stricter tone. "Please don't make me do things I don't wanna do, my love."

It was too late for that anyway.

He reached down, cupping her head and forcing her body to sit up against him. 

She immediately whined, but ultimately leaned against him, chasing his limited warmth. 

He forced himself to remain calm, brushing through her greasy hair. He was just now realizing how sweaty she had grown. "I… I need you to do some things for me. Some things you might not like."

She mumbled something, tucking her face against his collarbone. 

He sighed. "My love, I've spoken to the maester. We're going to help you, alright?"

"H-How?" She croaked. 

His arms held her closer at the sound of her voice finally breaking through. "'S only a bath. To help your temperature."

Her grip on his shirt tightened. "No."

"A cold bath for a few minutes, Lovely. That's all."

"Cregan, no," she whined. 

He sighed again, pulling her fully into his lap. "I want to expel this fever from you. And the pain. But I do not know how, and the other options were horrific. Trust that I'm doing what I can for you. Hm? Do you trust me?"

"Cregan-"

"-Trust me, please," he pleaded.

There was clear reluctance in her. An urge to fight everything that felt against her. But she knew Cregan. "I do."

He nodded. "Alright. Alright." He rubbed soothing circles onto her back. "And I promise I'm listening. Just like I listened to your handmaiden tell me you have been working yourself to death." He wanted to truly scold her, but he couldn't find the strength to when she was as ill as this.

"Forgive me," she croaked, clutching to his surcoat. 

He gently pulled her weak grip away, holding both wrists in one hand. With the other, he pulled her sideways into his lap. Now, with easier access, he was able to pick her up. He cursed at how light she was.

The servants gave pitied looks as the Wolf of the North carried the fragile woman down the corridor.

Each step felt heavier. Each moment lost. He had to remind himself to breathe.

And when they reached her corridor, she curled more into him at the sight of the copper tub. 

"Get the ice out of it," he growled.

The maester stepped forward. "Lord Stark-"

"Get. The ice out. This is supposed to soothe her, not torture her."

While the servants and maester re-prepared the bath, Cregan set his wife on the bed. He knelt down between her legs, rubbing his hands up and down her biceps to calm her worried heart.

"Take a deep breath. I do not plan to leave you. Can I take this off?" He gestured to her nightclothes.

He knew he wasn't going to get much of a response, so he slowly put his hands at her ankles and worked the dress up until it was pooling at her waist. "This alright? Gonna keep going, my love."

With some uncomfortable motions, Cregan got her dress off. Once able, he sat at her side, pulling her to him to keep her warm and block the others' views of her.

In waiting, she fell asleep against his shoulder. Cregan's worry skyrocketed.

But once it was prepared, he dismissed everyone but the maester. 

Cregan picked up his wife once again, rousing her in the process. "'S time."

She clung to him, half asleep, half delirious. 

He leaned over the tub, and when the cold water touched her, she shrieked. Her grip tightened on him, her heart racing. 

He hesitated, pulling her back up and standing straight. "I cannot do this. Choose another way."

The maester began to fumble over his words. "M- this is- I- this is the only way you would allow."

"Leave."

"W-What?"

Cregan held the woman close to his chest. "I said leave."

The door shut, and Cregan knelt to the floor, pulling furs off the bed to set her on.

She wiped at her face with tired eyes, trying to calm herself.

It was just the two of them now. Cregan sighed. He reached over, hovering his hand over the cold water. When his finger dipped in, it felt like ice going through his veins. He cursed and pulled back.

"This was a foolish idea. 'M sorry, my love. I have a better one."

He stood, digging around the room for a while until he found a cloth. He dipped it in the cold water, cursing when he rang it out and his fingers burned. He held it in his hands for a moment to warm it slightly, then held it to her chest. 

She groaned lightly but didn't fight against it. Her body couldn't even decide what to make of it. It was cold but almost soothing. 

So Cregan proceeded to do that same thing again and again— on her neck, her back, her arms, any place that needed cooled. 

He was careful each time, warming the cloth slightly and being as gentle as possible. He cradled her head each time and kept her upright.

"I'd rather you never work again than do something like this. I understand you are excited but… I cannot stand by the next time."

She almost felt like correcting him, and in her head, she did. But her body was still malfunctioning.

…

"My love," Cregan gawked and stood.

Only yesterday had she been so deathly ill. Now, she was standing in his solar.

"You should be resting." He covered the distance in no time, holding her waist between his hands like precious glass.

"I only wanted to talk to you."

He nodded, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Very well, but you must sit."

He led her to the chair he always had at the side of his desk for her. 

"I've overworked myself."

He nods, as if that is obvious news.

"I must find better ways to do so. Perhaps I must… eat more, or… I'm unsure b-"

"Why is your day so full? I am beginning to believe that you don't enjoy such tasks. They seem… tiring to you."

"They are, bu-"

"Then why do them?"

She hesitated. "I… I am the Lady of Winterfell."

"That is not the question I asked."

She fidgeted with her skirt. "I… have a duty. I must do them."

His brows came together. "Did I ever say that to you?"

"Not directly."

He leaned over his desk. "Did I ever tell you of these impossible expectations?"

"No, Cregan but-"

He threw his hands up. "Then where did you get such standards?"

"They all talk, Cregan," she huffed. "All of them. The people. I… I don't belong here. But I am trying. Please, believe that. I want to prove that I am trustworthy."

Silence consumed the room as the gears in Cregan's head grinded to a halt.

"'Don't belong'?" He repeated in disgust. "When I put that cloak on your shoulders, I told everyone that you do."

She sighed. "It doesn't work like that."

"Doesn't it?" He stood and rubbed at his beard, beginning to pace. "Who do you believe decides these things? Of who belongs in the North?"

She was quiet. 

"Me. I do. The Warden does. And when I took you as my wife, I acknowledged that not only do you now belong, but you will get to make these decisions alongside me. So, as of now, who is keeping you from belonging? It is not I. For where my heart beats, yours will also." He stopped. "No words from others changes that. You understand?"

Her eyes watered, heavy with exhaustion and grief. 

He knelt beside her once again, cupping her chin. "You'll have no responsibilities for a fortnight. Only the things you wish. Tell me three things that you wish to do."

"Well," she sniffled. "The kitchen said they need-"

His grip on her chin tightened and he gave her a scolding look. "No needs. Only your own wants. Try again."

"Supper. With you."

He breathed out, giving her a slight grin that broke his tough exterior. "Alright. What else?"

"I want to study. In the library."

His eyes squinted, but when he saw the genuine interest in her own, he nodded. "One more."

"I want to attend your meetings."

He scoffed. "No, you don't. No one wants to willingly go to those. I'll do one better. I'll cut my meetings short for a daily walk. It'll get you some fresh air. How's that?"

She reached out for his other hand, holding it with both of hers.

"I do love you," he reassured. "Whether you work constantly or never again."

"I'd never be worth anything if I never got out of bed," she teased.

"Oh, you're worth much to me. In and out of bed." He kissed her gently before pulling her up to stand. "Now get out," he smiled. "You have too much resting and reading that needs done."

..............................................................