#wolfqueennamedstark

Merith sighed heavily, letting his head fall to her chest. 

“Am I so predictable that my wife knows when I’m wondering where the candles are?”

He’d been quiet and still, going over this plan and that plan and trying not to wake her. But the moment she’d hummed in her sleep, he knew he’d woken her anyway just from being tense. She could cradle him all night if it meant he could rest here against her chest, listening to her breathing and the beat of her heart.

Would she think less of him if he said that sometimes he had to keep from laughing any time her stomach made a noise? Most nights though he found it terribly endearing.

The Doctor allowed a long sigh through his nose, thinking over what she’d just said. She was right. Negan was the only one who could move so freely in and out of Winterfell. He was the only one who wasn’t constantly being watched. Sansa certainly couldn’t do it. Neither could any of Michelle’s other allies and friends that she had there. 

And Negan had one thing no other man in Winterfell had: Ramsay’s admiration and respect. A nearly impossible thing to earn.

❝ I can’t. You’re right. There is no other way. There’s too much risk with anyone else. But listen to me, Michelle, if you have even a shadow of a doubt on this.... don’t do it. 

@wolfqueennamedstark

                                              “𝓢𝓽𝓪𝔂. 𝓘𝓯 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻.”

He would love to stay in bed all day, her long legs intertwined with his, her breast pressed against his chest, the softness of her lips against his skin. her hair falling like a cascade of fire around all over the furs, her sweat falling like drops of rain all over her body. The sound of her voice filling the room, calling his name in whispers of ecstasy. Daario smirk at the sound of her voice and press her naked form against his. “Only a moment?” he whisper against her ear. His voice a husk, deep and filled with lust.

“Alright, so I believe you.”

   They hadn’t spoken in TWO WEEKS. Two long weeks since Lucifer had told her exactly who she was, and what she had done for her. A taste it was, nothing more. It had freed her from her debt; but it hadn’t changed her life. If she wanted life truly changed, it would cost her something. Sansa Stark was a SMART woman — and she figured she would eventually make the right choice.

   And she had.

   Lips curled at the corners, crossing one leg over the other as she leaned back in her seat. With the way she had sunken down, her fur coat suddenly looked much too big for her; as if it was about to ENGULF her.

He was late for class ⏤ again. Not that he cared immensely, but if he wanted to get through college, he had to take it somewhat seriously. He hurried down the corridor, a half-empty bag slung across his shoulders to appear like he belonged there. The bag contained a Red Bull, a ham and cheese sandwich, a nearly empty pack of cigarettes and his laptop ( which barely functioned to begin with ). 

He found Auditorium H after fifteen minutes of searching ⏤ still new enough that he got lost easily, but he also vaguely knew where things were. He slipped through the door silently, the professor seemingly unaware of his presence as he was too busy gesturing wildly at the board. 

He skipped a few steps on his way to the top section of seats, choosing a row at random. He slumped down two seats away from a girl ⏤ putting his bag down in the space between them.