hello! my online name is min and i go by she/her pronouns. i am 23 years old and a libra! i have one other writing blog: @minswriting where i write other character x readers! this blog will be a multifandom blog with different shipping content.
ships i’ll be writing
tenrose (tenth doctor x rose tyler)
elevenrose (eleventh doctor x rose tyler)
ninerose (ninth doctor x rose tyler)
theonsa (theon greyjoy x sansa stark)
throbb (robb stark x theon greyjoy)
kingdon (frank langdon x mel king)
rules
this blog may contain NSFW content. therefore, no minors should be following me whatsoever. if you’re a minor or ageless blog, you will be blocked
any hate is NOT welcomed and will be ignored
all fics will be posted on my ao3 including fics from my other blogs!
requests are open for the ships above! please give the prompt and the ship you’d like me to write
be kind and patient. i write in my free time but im also a full time college student as well as i work part time. so your requests may take me a bit to work through
AI is never used or welcomed on this blog whatsoever. i also do not give permission to feed my works to AI. if you’re someone that uses AI, please get off of my blog as this is not an AI friendly place
enjoy! this blog is a positive space and we are just here to live laugh and vibe.
requests
open: doctor who, game of thrones
closed: n/a
important links
fics masterlist
latest fics
alone at the edge of the universe - theon greyjoy x sansa stark
it’s rare to have somebody look out for you - frank langdon x mel king
i would love a really fluffy kingdon fic where frank helps mel decompress after a long or hard shift. lot’s of sensory care, gentle quiet vibes, maybe a bath or something? i’m new here, so if you already have something like this please direct me there, but i’m just yearning for some tooth rotting domestic kingdon fluff.
thank you!!!
here you go! i’m not sure if it’s exactly how you wanted it but i hope you like it!!
it’s rare to have somebody look out for you (kingdon)
about: Mel is having a rough day and Frank helps her feel better
warnings: Fluff, Light Angst, rough days, comfort, frank langdon is a gift, no other warnings
Word Count: 3.6k
Read On AO3
Notes: Likes, comments, and reblogs are very much appreciated! Requests for Kingdon are open! If you don’t like, don’t read!
When Mel had woken up in the morning, she had woken up feeling wonderful. She had slept like a baby, finally having slept more than a few hours at a time. And so, when she had gotten out of bed and into the bathroom to shower, Mel had expected the day to be a good one. But apparently, she had been more wrong than ever.
"Hey Mel?" Becca broke the beautifully catered morning silence that had encompassed the two girls as they ate breakfast with one another. Becca was eating a bagel with cream cheese while Mel had made herself an egg sandwich on a bagel.
Mel swallowed the sip of her coffee she had taken before placing the mug down on the table. "Yes?" She asked as she glanced at her sister.
And in a matter of mere seconds, the wonderful morning that Mel had been having came crashing down just as quickly as it had come. "I think I'd like to live at the center full-time," Becca said simply with a smile before taking another bite, as though it were the easiest thing in the world.
Mel felt her heart drop as she knew her face was contorted in an awkward expression. She didn't quite know how to react or even how to feel. Mel had spent so many years taking care of Becca and ensuring she had a good life. By going to med school to have a worthwhile career, taking on far too many responsibilities than she should've at a young age, and making sure Becca had the proper care she needed, Mel had dedicated so much time into becoming a unit, a caregiver. And now, Becca wished to break that routine built between the two of them.
"Oh," Was the only thing Mel could think of to respond to Becca's statement. That was the entirety of the conversation and the next thing Mel knew was that she was in the car, driving Becca to her day program before heading to work.
To say it threw her off the rest of the day would be an understatement.
The moment she walked into the Emergency Room, a patient who had been waiting for hours had grabbed her arm and immediately began yelling at her, pestering Mel about how he had yet to be seen. Mel had tried to pull away but the tight hold the patient had on her arm was stronger. It wasn't until Ahmad stepped in that the patient had finally let Mel go.
"Are you okay?" Ahmad asked Mel, checking in with her as he stepped between her and the patient.
Mel couldn't think properly, her brain seemingly malfunctioning as she tried to process what had just happened. After a moment, she cleared her throat and nodded her head. "Yeah-uh-I'm fine," She gave an awkward smile.
Ahmad nodded his head before turning his attention to the patient, explaining to them that aggressive behavior towards healthcare workers will not be tolerated whatsoever. And Mel had taken the opportunity to walk away, heading into the back of the ER while she rubbed her forearm.
So today was definitely going to be one of those days.
Her first patient of the day had been a man who came off an ambulance. He had been quite combative and complaining of pain everywhere. He reeked of alcohol and it wouldn't have surprised Mel if he had been a methhead as well, judging by the skin sores on his face. It had been going fine until the man had whipped out his penis and peed directly on Mel who had been in the direct line of fire.
Luckily it only landed on her scrubs but Mel had been entirely baffled and unable to formulate any sort of response to such a situation. Of course, she had felt with many different patients and their bodily fluids but none of them had ever purposefully peed on her so this had certainly been a first.
So instead of working on the patient, Dr. Robby had advised Mel to get new scrubs before coming back and she followed his advice. She was sure he had only suggested it merely due to the look on her face. That awkward and uncomfortable and rather disgusted look that she usually had whenever she wasn't doing the greatest.
When she had come out of the bathroom, changed in a fresh pair of scrubs and no longer feeling or smelling like piss, Frank was approaching her. For just a moment, her woes were forgotten as she looked at him. They had been dating for about a year now and yet, seeing him still made her heart flutter in her chest.
"Heard you had a mishap in the ambulance bay," Frank said as he stood in front of Mel, his blue eyes softening as he looked at his beautiful girlfriend. "Are you okay?"
Mel didn't respond for a moment, simply mesmerized by Frank's eyes. As she processed Frank's words, she nodded her head. "Yes," She said eventually.
Frank opened his mouth as though he wanted to say more but was quickly interrupted by a trauma coming in. The two of them jumped into action, seemingly forgetting about the fact Mel had gotten pissed on.
Trauma 2 had become a mess. The patient that had come in had a gunshot wound to the chest, not quite grazing the heart, and was losing quite a bit of blood. Frank, Mel, Whittaker, and a few others were doing what they could to stabilize the patient. But with no luck, they had lost the patient rather quickly and Dr. Al-Hashimi had told them to call it.
As everyone exited the trauma room, removing their PPE in the process, Mel slipped on a trail of blood in the room. Luckily, Frank had caught her but it was yet another thing to add onto her list of what was going wrong.
"You alright?" He asked, holding onto Mel's arms to help stabilize her.
"Mhm," Mel nodded her head with an awkward not-quite-reaching-her-eyes smile. Her mood, which had already been diminished this morning, was slowly growing more sour as the day went on. She pulled away from Frank and walked out of the room, not wanting to accidentally snap at him.
Frank frowned as Mel walked away, his concern growing as he watched Mel. It wasn't often that Mel had a terrible day. Despite all of the horrific cases they get in the ER, Mel had always been so great at maintaining a positive attitude. The day Frank had met her, Mel had been a rockstar and had taken everything thrown at her in stride, even with the difficult moments. Pittfest had been a mess and yet, she worked so hard. And when Frank had saw her again, ten months later on July 4th, that was the first time he saw her lose her cool.
Really, it was only the second time he met her but still.
He knew that something was going to grow between them that very first day. The way she smiled, all nerves and sunshine, Frank had instantaneously been encaptured by her. But that day, he had more growing concerns such as his addiction to benzos and the fact that his marriage was failing. But when he had seen her again and she had excitedly grabbed his arm when she saw her, Frank fell for her right then and there.
It were as though nothing else mattered except for the existence that was Dr. Melissa King. That day, they had exchanged numbers, especially after Mel had yelled at her sister and he had told Mel to take a breather. He wanted to make sure she was alright that night and so, he had suggested texting back and forth so he could check in on her and on Becca's condition.
A week of small, more professional, conversations had quickly grown into more detailed ones unrelated to work when Frank had sent a picture of his golden doodle to Mel. And Mel had replied excitedly, immediately resorting to asking any and all questions about the dog. Day after day, the two had gotten to know more about one another outside of work and one night, two weeks after they first exchanged numbers, Frank had suggested meeting at the park on their day off so Mel could meet his dog.
And that, too, became a thing where on their days off, when they aligned, Mel and Frank would walk with his dog around the park.
It was easy to talk to Mel, to learn about her. She understood Frank in a way that he had never felt before. And Frank liked to think he knew Mel quite a bit, sometimes even more than she knew herself. When he was aggravated, especially when his back flared up, Mel would place a hand on his shoulder and offer comfort in a way that made Frank feel seen and loved. And when she would be overstimulated, Frank would speak to Mel in a soft voice, telling her to take some quiet time to herself.
It was no surprise when Frank had kissed Mel one night after a long and grueling shift. After months of working together, texting one another, and their morning walks in the park which somehow turned into coffee dates, it was inevitable to fall in love with her. Mel was beautiful, kind, and the most amazing person Frank had ever met. And so, in October, three months after they had exchanged numbers on July 4th, Frank had made the first move.
The shift had been entirely exhausting. It was one case after another after another. Almost more than there had been over the summer which was saying a lot. It was a random day in October as well, not even Halloween, so it didn't make much sense to Frank as to why it had been so busy. But all Frank could think about as he walked out of the hospital alongside Mel was how much he wanted to kiss her and forget about the day. And so, he had done exactly that once they had reached Mel's car in the parking garage.
And they'd been together ever since.
To say Frank was concerned about Mel would be an understatement. He had been looking out for her all morning, simply because he loved looking at her but also because he could tell she was a bit off. Her normally positive and excitable demeanor was subdued. He knew something was wrong but he hadn't been sure as to what.
"Are we still on for tonight?" Frank asked some time later after the incident in the trauma room as he stepped next to Mel at the charge station, looking up at the board.
"Hmm?" Mel asked, breaking her attention from the board before processing what Frank had said. "Oh, yes." She said with a small smile. "Becca will be at the day center tonight due to a movie night so it'll just be us," She said before bringing her attention back to the board. Though it was clear that the mention of Becca had brought Mel's mood down once again with the way her jaw slightly tensed and her shoulders tightened.
"I look forward to it," Frank said softly. "I have to make a few stops before I head over so I'll likely be at your place a bit after you," His attention was only on Mel as he placed a hand on top of hers on the counter.
Mel nodded her head. "That's fine," She said, matching Frank's tone as the tension inside of her eased a bit.
Frank gave Mel a soft smile before the two parted ways once again, moving to deal with their patients.
Later that day, after their shift ended and everyone had finally been able to go home, a knock on Mel's door had signaled to her that Frank had arrived as he had a signature knock. Mel had not changed out of her scrubs yet as she had taken to just sitting in the kitchen and staring off into the distance in order to semi-decompress from her day. The knock had broken Mel from her thoughts and she had gotten up to go to the door.
As she opened the door, Frank stood there with a grin on his face as he held up multiple bags in one hand and had a duffel bag hanging from his shoulder. "I got Indian food," He said while wiggling his eyebrows. "And snacks and some of your favorite drinks."
Mel couldn't help but smile as she stepped to the side, allowing Frank to walk into the apartment.
Indian food had been something they tried on a whim a few months back. More like Mel had tried and Frank had been the one to put her on. She had never tried it before as she and Becca preferred to stick with their safe foods. But Frank had told Mel about his favorite Indian restaurant and how it had the best butter chicken and garlic naan and Mel, being the girlfriend that she was, wanted to try what her boyfriend enjoyed. And now it became her favorite food as well.
"With samosas?" She asked as Frank walked to the kitchen to place the bags down on the counter, following him.
"Well of course, sweetheart, who do you think I am?" Frank replied with a joking scoff. As he placed the things on the counter and allowed his bag to fall onto the ground temporarily, Frank turned to look at Mel. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her gently on the lips. "I noticed you had a rough day," He said softly, a hand moving to toy with the end of Mel's braid.
Mel only hummed in response as she wrapped her arms around Frank, returning his hug.
"Let me draw you a bath?" He asked gently as he looked down at her. "We can bathe, change, and then eat. How does that sound?"
Mel nodded her head. "I'd like that," She whispered as she looked up at Frank.
Frank gave her a small smile before his lips brushed her forehead. He pulled away from her embrace. "Give me five minutes and then join me in the bathroom?"
"Sounds like a plan," Mel replied.
Silence encompassed the apartment as Frank walked away from Mel and to the bathroom. And after a moment, the faint sound of water trickling before becoming a bigger stream filled Mel's ears. She glanced at the time on the microwave, gently rocking on her feet as she waited precisely five minutes. And once those five minutes passed, she made her way to the bathroom.
The feeling of steam hit her face as she walked into the bathroom, along with the smell of her rose scented soap filled the air. Frank was stood beside the bathtub, his clothes already discarded off to the side. He was stood in only his boxers. Two candles were lit next to the bathroom and Frank looked at Mel with a smile.
Nothing was spoken as Frank walked up to Mel. He gently leaned down and captured her lips in a slow kiss. Mel responded immediately as she kissed Frank back, their lips moving together in sync. Frank's hands moved to the hem of Mel's scrub shirt. He pulled away just enough to take the top off of her before going back to kissing her. His hands then went to her sports bra as he moved to pull that off of her as well, maintaining eye contact as he did.
Baths between the two of them were nothing new. Mel loved to take a bath to relax and Frank, who hadn't really thought about taking a bath instead of a shower since he was a child, had absolutely fallen in love with them when he and Mel took their first bath together. The closeness and natural intimacy without having to have sex was new and entirely foreign to Frank. They didn't have the chance to do it often but when they did, it was quite lovely.
When Mel was standing in front of Frank, completely naked and her hair down, Frank gently grabbed Mel's hand. He placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand before he guided her to the bathtub. "Step in, love," He commanded in a murmur.
Mel complied as she stepped into the water. It was the perfect temperature, hot. When she and Frank had first bathed together, she had made the water hotter than what Frank was used to, causing him to complain at first. But moments later, the ache in his back had began to ease and since then, he too had loved that Mel preferred the bath to be hot.
As she settled into the tub, Frank took off his boxers and stepped in to sit behind her. The two got themselves comfortable with Mel in between Frank's legs and Frank's chest pressed against Mel's back. His arms moved to wrap around Mel's middle as she leaned into him.
It was quiet, warm, and Frank could almost see the tension leaving Mel's body as she rested against him. "Do you want to talk about your day?" He whispered into Mel's ear, his breath warm against her skin.
Mel shivered slightly before clearing her throat. "It was just not my day today," She whispered in response.
"How so?" Frank asked.
Mel began talking about the shit-show of a day she had, starting with the patient that had yelled at her. By the time she began speaking about Becca, Frank had realized exactly what had thrown her off. "And Becca," Mel sighed almost dramatically. "You know, when I had woken up today, I was in a really good mood. I actually slept more than five hours last night and woke up feeling quite refreshed, thank you very much." Mel's rant continued as she told Frank what had happened. "And Becca decided to randomly bring up moving into the day center permanently!"
And there it was, the true reason for Mel's horrible day.
Frank gently placed kisses along Mel's shoulder as she spoke as a way to help soothe her. "She wants to move into the center permanently?" He asked.
Mel nodded her head. "It's like I completely understand she wants independence but I thought she loved living here with me," Mel frowned as she spoke. "All our lives it was only her and I. And when I became her sole caregiver, I thought we'd never be separated. But now all of a sudden, she wants to leave me?"
"She's not leaving you, baby," Frank cut in. "She's just really happy there."
"But I'd be all alone," Mel's voice sounded small as she admitted that fact. All her life, the only constant she had was her sister. Growing up, she and Becca had been best friends. The only time they had truly been separated was when Mel had gone to college but when their parents had died, Mel had taken on the role as Becca's caregiver and they hadn't been separated ever since.
Frank felt for Mel as his hold on her tightened softly. "You wouldn't be alone, sweetheart," He whispered, placing a kiss on her shoulder once again. "Becca wants a chance to live her life and I'm sure she wants to give you a chance to live yours." He continued. "You'll always have me with you if your fear is of being alone."
"But we don't live together," Mel replied in that same tone as before.
Frank paused for just a moment as he thought about Mel's words. And after a second he spoke once more. "Then perhaps it's time we change that, yeah?"
Mel's breath hitched. She tilted her head up to try and look at Frank. "Do you mean that?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowed.
Frank nodded his head and hummed in agreement. "Of course," He said. "We've been together for a year. I'm here more often than not," Frank continued. "If you'll have me, I could move in."
Mel was quiet for a few minutes as she simply looked at Frank. It were as though she were weighing the pros and cons inside that beautiful mind of hers. And eventually she nodded her head. "I'd like that," She whispered.
And just like that, everything was settled. Nothing would happen right away as things such as these took serious time and planning. But it was certainly a start.
After their conversation, Frank and Mel took turns washing each other's bodies and hair before draining the tub and drying themselves off. Mel had changed into a t-shirt and pajama shorts while Frank changed into a sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. The two ate food on the couch while watching a show together and snacked on the treats Frank had gotten them.
Mel had always been the one caring for those around her, especially all her life with Becca. Everyone else took priority in Mel's mind, wanting to ensure those around her were happy and healthy. But for once, as she sat on the couch after a rough day pressed up against her boyfriend, Mel realized that she finally had someone to look out for her. It had never been a possibility she ever considered and yet, here she was.
"I love you," Mel whispered as she looked at Frank from the position they were in.
Frank looked down at Mel with a pocky stick hanging from his mouth. "And I love you," He replied with a smile as he took the stick from his mouth. He leaned down to press a kiss onto her forehead. "Now and always," He added with a whisper.
is anyone possibly interested in a theonsa fic based on the long night before the battle? where they get some time alone together and confront their feelings and it’s all romantic, angsty, possibly a bit smutty, etc.
am i writing a theon greyjoy x robb stark summer vacation fic where they have a friends with benefits situation before realizing their feelings for each other? yes. yes i am.
About: Theon and Sansa spend time together before the impending battle and their imminent deaths. After the battle, Sansa ponders on what could’ve been.
Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark, Angst, Smut, Major Character Death, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Torture, Mentions of Ramsay Bolton, Fingering, Oral, Cunnilingus, Feelings, Longing, Yearning, Grief, The Night King, The Long Night, Season 8 Episode 2, Post-Castration, Not proof read so i apologize for any mistakes!
Word Count: 8.0k
Notes: Please like, comment, and reblog to support your fanfic writers! If you have any requests, feel free to send them in my inbox!
Winterfell was home. It had always been home the moment Theon stepped foot in the castle at the age of eight years old. Direwolf banners decorating the castle walls, the Stark's running around all wild and free, even Ned Stark's bastard son had many freedoms despite his status. Theon had spent many years wanting to feel as though he belonged, to feel as though Winterfell was just as much his home as it was the Stark's.
He had been taken as a ward at such a young age, made to serve Lord Eddard Stark. He wasn't treated unwell. He had his own chambers, was taught alongside Jon and Robb on how to fight, became quite a good archer, but Theon never truly felt as though he belonged. His status was always thrown at him, especially by Robb when he was feeling particularly bratty.
But even though Theon didn't feel completely like a Stark, he hardly felt like a true Greyjoy either. Being taken at such a young age to be a ward, to stop his father's rebellion, he didn't remember much of the Iron Islands. Of course he had his childhood memories, ones that involved the ocean and the salt in the air. But a time came when he could hardly remember his older brother's faces or his sister's voice. He'd spent so much time in the north that he was hardly a boy from Pyke any longer.
Growing up alongside Robb, Theon had learned quite a lot. From archery to sword fighting, to the ins and outs of politics that all lords should learn, Theon learned all of it, as did Jon. Though he was never sure as to why Jon had to learn all of that as well. The boy was a bastard, he shouldn't know the ins and outs of politics. But as a ward, it wasn't Theon's position to question such things.
Theon knew he wasn't the greatest person when he came into himself. He was cocky, arrogant, always thought of himself as a hostage rather than as a member of the family. In many ways, he held resentment towards the Starks for that reason. However, none of that mattered now. Not after everything that had happened over the course of time.
Betraying Robb had always been his biggest regret. At the time, Theon had truly thought he could win his father's favor to help Robb obtain the ships he needed to move onward. But alas, the moment he got a second of his father's attention and potential for approval, he betrayed the man he considered his closest friend and a brother.
He knew he could never be forgiven, especially after he had taken Winterfell and pretended as though he killed Bran and Rickon. Theon never wished to be forgiven. To be forgiven by someone else would mean needing to forgive himself and Theon could never, would never, forgive himself for such a thing.
Being taken by Ramsay Bolton had been more than a horrific experience. Theon didn't think it possible for someone to be so cruel. To be so cruel that Ramsay would cut a few pieces of Theon off, take away his manhood, strip him of his own name, and paint him with cuts that would never go away properly. The amount of scars that donned Theon's body was more than he could possibly count. The experiences haunted him and likely always will. Reek will always be with him, even when his death is upon him. Theon or Reek, perhaps they're the same person; a cowardly man who does terrible things in the favor of another.
Theon had been so deep into the mindset of Reek that to be considered anything else was sinful. He hadn't been Theon is so long. Who was Theon Greyjoy? Theon Greyjoy died long ago. The master killed Theon the day he took him. All that was left was sorrowful and pathetic Reek.
Until the day Sansa Stark came riding into Winterfell.
He hadn't thought it would be possible to see another Stark while he lived. After his betrayal of Robb, after he pretended to kill Bran and Rickon, Theon knew it would be wise to not ever see another Stark. He had wronged them for more than imaginable. He couldn't fathom the idea of seeing the people he had grown up with, how they had taken him in even if it was against his will, how they treated him so kindly despite his position, and all Theon could think about was how he betrayed them all.
Yet, there Sansa sat on her horse, her hair a different color than that gorgeous Tully red that Theon had always admired, looking around at her home that she had left all those years ago which had been usurped by the Bolton's. Reek had stayed hidden, not wishing to be seen by the Lady Sansa. He couldn't face her, wouldn't face her. Not when the Master likely wouldn't allow it.
Theon had been so deep in his role as Reek that he had truly believed he was never anyone other than Reek. Who was Reek before Ramsay? Absolutely no one. Theon Greyjoy didn't exist, only Reek. And Reek lived to serve his master.
That was until the night Ramsay had married Sansa Stark and forced Theon to watch as Ramsay forcefully took her. That night, hearing the cries of a woman whom he'd known all his life, the screams of pain that Ramsay inflicted onto her, awoke something within Reek that he had thought had died a long time ago. As he cried watching the scene in front of him, he cried out of anger. That night had awoken Theon, awoken the man that had long since been buried.
And when the time came to protect Sansa from Ramsay's whore Myranda, he didn't hesitate as he threw the woman off the railing and ran away with Sansa. He didn't care for himself, he never did. He didn't care if he died or got himself hurt. All that mattered to Theon was getting Sansa safe. Get Sansa to safety, get Sansa to safety. Those were the words that Theon repeated in his head as they jumped off the wall of Winterfell's castle and made their way into the woods. As she held his hand as the trekked through the creek to throw off the hounds. And all he thought about as they sat underneath the fallen tree as he held her close him.
Sansa. Sansa. Sansa.
They hadn't seen one another since they'd escaped Winterfell, when Sansa and Theon parted ways because Sansa was finally safe with Brienne and Podrick to make it to Castle Black. Until yesterday, when Theon arrived back at Winterfell, ready to fight for the home he grew up in.
And now, here they sat, in the encampment, sipping their soup together. Sansa looked much better than she had before. She no longer looked exhausted to the point of bags underneath her eyes. And from the way she held herself, she no longer held the wounds Ramsay inflicted onto herself. She looked healthier, happier considering their current circumstances, and absolutely regal. She was the embodiment of beauty and grace and Theon felt blessed to even be in her presence.
The sudden reality of their situation hit Theon as he remembered it would likely be the last time he saw her. This battle, the battle against the White Walkers, was more likely to go south than to end in victory. It was likely a battle to end with everyone dead, including himself and Sansa. And the mere thought of Sansa losing her life put a pit in Theon's stomach.
"You look as though you're pondering," Sansa said, breaking the beautifully curated silence between the two of them. There were sounds all around them, laughter, chatter, soldiers speaking about the upcoming battle. But Sansa and Theon had found solace in their sitting together, a quiet that had not been awkward or bad.
"I suppose I am," Theon replied, looking at Sansa with a tight smile. His eyes met hers in a gaze that spoke more than a thousand words truly could.
Sansa held Theon's gaze, as if understanding the internal grief he felt within himself. The grief of losing one another in a battle that was doomed from the start. After a few moments, Sansa averted her gaze, as though she too thought about their impending doom.
Though Theon did not think Sansa would care if he died, unlike how he cared about her. He didn't deserve to be cared for in such a way, not after everything that had been done. Once upon a time, perhaps when they were younger and were still in Winterfell, he had dreamed of a time when he and Sansa would marry, where he would do anything to give her the world. Had circumstances been different, Theon supposed he still would have. He'd at least would have done anything to make sure Sansa never endured what she did. But alas, the world was not kind. And he had done far too much to deserve even an ounce of her affection.
"Do you think we could possibly go somewhere private?" Sansa asked, breaking herself out of her thoughts.
Theon simply nodded his head. His soup bowl wasn't completely finished but he couldn't find himself to care. His stomach was tight from nerves, the idea his life could end at any moment when the battle starts served to be quite the mood and appetite killer. He stood up from his spot, as did Sansa. She began walking towards the inside of the castle with Theon following closely behind.
Winterfell had changed a bit since he'd last seen it. Dirt and rubble no longer sat around the castle, the repercussions from the castle being set on fire. Ramsay had never really bothered to clean them, a way for him to let everyone know that he conquered Winterfell. But since then, Stark banners donned the castle walls along with that familiar warmth from his childhood. It was finally home again, no longer that cold and horrific place it once was.
Despite there being many people on the property, Winterfell wasn't as busy as Theon had expected it to be. Likely everyone was in the encampment or already setting up. The staff of the castle moving what they can to the crypt to stay safe. Sansa turned her head slightly as she walked, glancing to make sure Theon was still behind her.
Soon they arrived to a part of the castle that had been untouched by Ramsay and his men; the part of the castle where everyone grew up. Sansa came to her childhood door, opening it and stepping aside to allow Theon to walk into the room. She closed the door gently behind him as Theon looked around the room. "You changed rooms," Theon said, his eyes finally landing on Sansa, who had already been looking at him.
"For a ward, I always thought it was strange you had a big chamber," Sansa teased ever-so-slightly, an amused smirk gracing her lips.
Theon gave a faint smile, the memories of his life in Winterfell hitting him all at once. "It had always been quite strange to be given a room so large as just a mere ward," Theon replied.
"Father adored you in his own way," Sansa mused.
That mere sentence brought forth an ache in Theon's heart. Lord Eddard Stark had always been more of a father to him than his own. And Theon betrayed him. "I suppose he did," came Theon's response, his voice heavy with emotion.
Silence encompassed the two of them a bit more awkwardly than it had been before. Sansa stood in front of Theon, fiddling with her fingers. It was clear she was nervous. About what? Theon did not know. Or perhaps he did. They could die in just a few hours.
"I never got to thank you," Sansa eventually said, meeting Theon's gaze.
Theon shook his head, "You shouldn't thank me."
"Why not?" Sansa asked as she furrowed her eyebrows slightly. "You killed Myranda and led us to escape."
"Something I should've done the moment you stepped foot back in Winterfell," Theon replied, his voice hoarse. "I do not deserve your thanks."
Sansa's gaze softened. She took a step closer to Theon. "I thank you because without your help, we wouldn't be here to fight tonight against the dead," She said, her tone gentle. "I forgave you a while ago, Theon."
"I don't deserve your forgiveness," He said, averting his gaze. He looked down at his feet, overcome with emotion. "I don't deserve your kindness. I don't deserve any of it."
"Theon," Sansa moved closer until nothing more than a few inches stood between them. She brought her fingers to Theon's chin, her touch just as gentle as her tone. "Look at me."
Theon obeyed, his eyes moving to look at Sansa. They were so close that Theon could smell the oil that Sansa had used when she had bathed. Something that smelled similarly to lavender. Her eyes stared right back at him, all lovely and blue that it reminded him of the oceans in the Iron Islands.
"You have long since dealt with the repercussions of your crimes," Sansa spoke softly. "You've endured more than anyone can truly comprehend, lost parts of you that you will never get back. Yes, you betrayed Robb. Yes, you took Winterfell for yourself. Yes, you killed two farm boys." Sansa continued, her voice and gaze never faltering. "But you've long since made up for it. And the fact that you are here now, taking it upon yourself to protect Bran in the Godswood once the battle commences…" Sansa trailed off, as though her emotions were getting the best of her. She cleared her throat. "Don't tell me what you don't deserve."
"Sansa…" Theon whispered, looking into her eyes.
"If it were up to me, Theon," Sansa swallowed. "I would do whatever in my power to ensure you were safe and away from the dangers that await for us."
"But it's not up to you," He replied.
"No, it isn't," Sansa let out a breath, as though already defeated. She pulled away from Theon, her fingers dropping from his chin. She stepped back, creating space between the two of them once more.
It was hard for Theon to know exactly what was going on in Sansa's head. She had grown to hide her emotions, to shield herself away from those who wish to harm her. He couldn't blame her. He didn't quite know what she endured in King's Landing but he knew of everything that had happened to her in what was supposed to be her own home.
"He's a looming presence," Sansa said eventually, her gaze returning to Theon. "One that never quite goes away." She didn't name who she was speaking about but it didn't take much to know who it was. Theon didn't respond as his attention was completely on Sansa. "Despite the fact I saw him die, it's as though he still haunts my very being."
Theon could sympathize as he felt the same way after all. He lost parts of himself he'd never be able to get back. He'd been manipulated to become Reek and sometimes Reek still pops out in the most random of moments. "I don't think he will ever truly leave us," Theon responded, his voice deep with emotion.
"I wish he would," Sansa said suddenly. "I wish he would leave us." Sansa chewed on her bottom lip, giving way to the storm that brewed inside of her.
Theon didn't say anything. He didn't know if he should. He felt the same way, a wish that Ramsay's presence would stop haunting either of them.
"I still feel him," Sansa continued but her voice was more hesitant than before. "Inside of me, hurting me, touching me. He's the only one who's touched me like that."
Theon's heart ached as he remembered all too well about what Ramsay had done to Sansa. Theon had been forced to watch, each and every time. "I'm sorry I didn't do anything-"
"It isn't your fault," Sansa interrupted Theon's apology. "There was nothing you could do. He tortured you far worse than he did myself."
"That doesn't change what he did to you," Theon replied back. "You shouldn't have been subjected to such treatment."
"And you shouldn't have either."
Sansa's tone was firm and honest, as though she truly believed he didn't deserve to endure any of it. But Theon didn't believe her. He truly thought that he deserved it. He had done so many horrific things. Ramsay's abuse was Theon's atonement for the crimes he had committed.
"If we are to die tonight," Sansa took a deep breath. "I don't want Ramsay to be the last person who had me in such a way," Sansa admitted, looking at Theon with an unknown expression.
Theon paused for a moment, taking in Sansa's words. "Are you…Are you asking something of me?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.
"If tonight is to be our last night, I-I would like to know what it's like to be touched by another who doesn't wish to harm me," Sansa confirmed, looking at Theon. "And I wish that person to be you."
"Sansa, I don't really have the parts-" Theon tried to say.
"You have your mouth and your fingers," Sansa interrupted once again, her cheeks reddening as she realized how crude her statement sounded. "The choice is yours, however. I'd never force you into anything."
This time, Theon was the one to let out a breath. "Why me though?" He asked, looking at the woman in front of him. "There are so many other people outside. Podrick is a fine looking man, I'm sure if you asked, he would," He said, pointing out someone who likely had the proper parts to perform properly.
Sansa shook her head. "I don't want anyone else," She said. "You're the only one who properly understands, who knows what I've gone through. Y-you're the only one I can trust." The last part was spoken with a vulnerability that Sansa usually denied herself.
Theon felt as though he were frozen. He didn't quite know what to say or what to do. Was he honored that Sansa wanted him to be the one to touch her? Yes, yes he was. And had he still had his cock, he likely wouldn't hesitate. It was true that there were other ways he could make her feel good, to show her that she could seek pleasure. He had done it numerous of times to whores he'd been with in the past.
Theon's long silence was an answer within itself to Sansa as she spoke once more. "You know what?" She cleared her throat. "Never mine. You're right, it's stupid. I shouldn't have-"
"I'll do it," This time it had been Theon's turn to interrupt. He knew he should've declined it. To tell Sansa that it wouldn't be right because he wasn't worthy to worship someone as beautiful and amazing as she. But he couldn't help but say yes. She deserved to be worshipped, to be pleasured rather than used. She deserved a night of ecstasy, even if he could not actually penetrate her.
Sansa paused, looking at Theon as she processed his response. "You will?" She asked quietly, as though unsure if she had heard him properly.
Theon's tongue ran over his chapped lips as he nodded his head in confirmation. "As long as you understand I cannot give you all of myself, I can do other things to make you feel good," Theon said before swallowing.
"I understand," Sansa whispered.
Theon gave her a tiny smile, stepping forward. "How would you like to do this?" He asked, clearing his throat.
Sansa bit her bottom lip, as though contemplating how to do this. She has never known the soft touch of someone lips on hers before the act of intimacy. She has never known any of the things she's heard from other women when it comes to sex. She only knew of hurt and pain. "I don't really know," She murmured, looking at Theon. Her confident and cool demeanor was now replaced with one that could be taken as insecure and unsure.
"Can I kiss you?" Theon asked, his eyes drifting to Sansa's lips and then back to her eyes.
"Yes," Sansa nodded her head.
Theon gave Sansa a small smile before gently cupping her face. "And you're sure you want this?" He asked, double-checking with her.
Sansa nodded her head once more. "Yes," She confirmed, looking at Theon with wide eyes. "Only with you."
That was all he needed before he slowly leaned in, his face inching towards hers. He could feel her breath against his skin as his lips brushed against hers. There was a slight hitch in Sansa's breath before he fully captured Sansa's lips in a slow and gentle kiss. It took little to no time for her to return the gesture.
Sansa's hands eventually came up to rest on Theon's shoulders, her touch hesitant and unsure. She'd been kissed before but it never lasted longer than a few moments. With Theon, however, it was different. His lips moved against hers gently and with ease, a contrast from how she'd been kissed by Joffrey, Ramsay, or even Littlefinger.
The only sounds in the room were the sounds of the fire crackling as Sansa and Theon stood there, kissing one another. It was the first time that kissing someone felt right. Sansa couldn't help the small noise that escape her throat as Theon deepened the kiss. His hands moved from her face down to her waist, grasping her hips.
The two moved their lips in sync, kissing one another as though they had been made for it. Sansa's hand moved to the nap on Theon's neck as she entangled her fingers into his locks. The action elicited a gasp from Theon, his grip tightening on Sansa's hip just a fraction.
Theon pulled away just enough to look at Sansa and take in her appearance. She was slightly breathless and her cheeks were red. Theon couldn't help but quirk his lip up in a small smirk before leaning back in. He placed another kiss on Sansa's lips and then kissed her cheek and alongside her jawline. He moved his hand up toward Sansa's cloak, gently undoing the material. The fur cloak dropped to the floor, leaving Sansa in her black gown.
"You're beautiful," Theon whispered against Sansa's jawline. "You didn't deserve anything that has happened to you."
"Theon," Sansa whispered back, as though many emotions were coursing through her.
But rather than respond, Theon dipped his head to the crook of Sansa's neck, trailing small kisses along her skin. Sansa inhaled sharply, her breath shaky as Theon kissed her skin. His lips trailed over her pulse point before he dragged his tongue along it. Sansa let out another small noise as Theon began sucking on that sweet spot.
Sansa tilted her head, giving Theon more access to her neck as her hand remained rested on Theon's neck, holding his head to her. She hadn't ever felt like this. She was warm, almost overly so, and for that reason she was grateful that Theon removed her cloak. There was a pulse inside of her, one she had felt a few times but not enough to truly understand what it meant. But as Theon sucked on her pulse point and lavished her with soft touches, Sansa couldn't help but clench her thighs to relieve that ache she felt.
Theon kissed upward, his lips trailing along Sansa's neck until he reached the shell of her ear. "May I undress you, my lady?" He asked, his breath hot against Sansa's skin.
There was something in the tone of Theon's voice that made Sansa want to whimper but she held back, trying to remain composed. She cleared her throat before nodding her head. "Yes," she whispered.
Gods, did she want it. She'd never felt so hot and bothered before. Her skin felt as though it were on fire, like the color of her hair. And the ache between her thighs, she desperately wished for relief.
Theon took off the black leather armor piece that Sansa had been wearing, gently allowing the piece to fall to the floor. His fingers moved to the back of her dress, carefully undoing the laces as he looked into her eyes.
"If you're uncomfortable at any point, please tell me," He said with concern.
"I will," Sansa replied with a small smile, grateful for Theon's kindness. He was much different than the boy she had known growing up. Theon used to be cocky and arrogant, not afraid to speak his mind as he sought out Robb's approval. Now, Theon was quiet and caring. He was more reserved and patient, humbled from his experiences with Ramsay.
The material of Sansa's dress came undone as it loosened around her. She pulled her arms from the sleeves, allowing the dress to fall to the ground. She stood there in her small clothes, her skin exposed to the slight chill of her chambers.
Theon took the opportunity to look at Sansa's body. Remnants of Ramsay's torture donned her skin in scars much similar to the ones Theon had himself. His heart sunk as he thought about the horrors Sansa had gone through, the fact he had witnessed the brunt of it. He swallowed harshly, trying to get his emotions in order. And rather than say anything, Theon simply placed a kiss on Sansa's collarbone where a particularly nasty scar laid.
"You're so beautiful," He said softly.
"I'm marked by another," Sansa replied with a saddened expression. For someone who used to love how she looked, she now hated looking at herself.
Theon shook his head, his hands on her hips. "Being marked doesn't make you any less beautiful," He murmured, his lips grazing Sansa's neck. "You are always going to be the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on."
"You really think so?" Sansa asked, her hands moving to Theon's chest plate.
Theon lifted his head as he looked at Sansa. He lifted a hand to caress her cheek, his thumb running across her skin. "Sansa," he began, their eyes meeting each other. "No one could ever compare to you in my eyes." He whispered sincerely. And it was entirely true. He had once upon a time wished to have married Sansa, mainly to be considered a Stark but also because he had always found her to be quite beautiful. No one he had been with ever compared to the woman that stood before him now.
Sansa let out a breath as affection and adoration overcame her. Once upon a time, she had never thought Theon would ever be someone she could love or adore. And now, after years of trauma, he was the only person she felt comfortable with to be vulnerable. The two had suffered together and no one else would ever quite understand what had happened to either of them.
Sansa didn't say anything else as she undid the small clothes that covered her chest, allowing the material to fall to the floor. She shivered slightly at the feeling of the air, her nipples hardening from the chill. Theon exhaled through his nose as he looked down at her breasts before looking back at Sansa's face.
"May I?" He asked, his voice rough.
"You can touch me," She whispered, biting her bottom lip.
Theon licked his lips before his hands moved to Sansa's chest. His gaze was fixated on her breasts. He massaged the mounds of flesh, his hands moving slowly. He leaned in, kissing Sansa's lips as his hands remained on her chest. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, eliciting a small moan from Sansa's lips.
Despite no longer having a cock, Theon still felt arousal. And he hadn't realized it until tonight. Perhaps it's because of how long it had been. Or maybe it's just because it's Sansa and she was reacting so beautifully to him. Regardless, Theon wanted nothing more than to indulge in her pleasures, to give her a night she'd never forget.
His thumbs continued to move on Sansa's nipples, massaging the buds in a way that had Sansa breathing more raggedly. He pulled away from the kiss, his lips making their way down to her neck and collarbone. He bent down slightly, just enough to take one of her breasts into his mouth.
Sansa gasped as Theon tongued her nipple, her hand flying to his hair. "Theon," She whispered in pleasure as her fingers entwined with his curls. He began sucking on the bud, his other hand still massaging the other. Sansa let out a gorgeous moan.
Theon's other hand moved to Sansa's hip, his fingers toying with the fabric of the last piece of small clothes that she wore. Theon pulled away from Sansa's breast just enough to look at her. "May I take this off of you?" He breathed out, his fingers messing with the hem of the small clothes.
Sansa nodded her head eagerly, wanting nothing more than for Theon to touch her where she needed him most.
Theon stood up straight as he began pulling Sansa's smallclothes off of her. Sansa stood there, biting her bottom lip as Theon revealed all of her for him to see. But rather than being afraid like she had initially thought, she felt comfortable and seen. "Sit on the edge of the bed for me," Theon gently commanded as her smallclothes fell to the floor. Sansa obeyed as she stepped out of the material, backing up until the backs of her legs felt the mattress. She sat down on the bed as she looked at Theon, unsure of what to do next.
Theon said nothing as he undid the rest of his armor. He began undressing himself. He pulled off his tunic, throwing the material somewhere in the room before he paused. He glanced at Sansa and took a deep breath. And after what felt like a few minutes, he undid the laces of his breeches, pulling them down. He was wearing smallclothes underneath his breeches, had to because of he armor he had been wearing.
Sansa looked at Theon, taking in his form. His body was aligned with more scars than hers was. And she knew the reason Theon was keeping his smallclothes on. Her heart clenched in her chest as she thought about everything Theon had gone through. "I'm so sorry," She whispered, her eyes tearing up.
She knew that Ramsay had done horrible things to Theon. She knew he kept Theon in a dog kennel, made him believe his name was Reek, cut parts of him that Theon could never get back. But to see the remnants of such torture made her hurt more than she could truly fathom. Sansa felt as though she should've helped him, done something to limit the pain he had gone through. But alas, she did nothing.
Theon walked over to her, a concerned look on his face as he knelt down in front of her. His hands cupped Sansa's cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears from her face. He hated seeing her cry. "Shh," He hushed, looking up at her with soft blue eyes. "There's no need to cry, sweetheart," he murmured.
"It saddens me what he did to you," She whispered, looking down at Theon with watery eyes.
"Just as it does for me about you," Theon replied, leaning up to rest his forehead against hers.
Sansa leaned into Theon's touch, a shaky breath leaving her. Theon took the opportunity to kiss her lips once again. The kiss was soft and gentle, holding so many emotions that the two possessed. This wasn't just two people comforting one another, it was a kiss that held the numerous possibilities of what life could've been had they not left Winterfell all those years ago.
"My beautiful Sansa," He whispered against her lips, a longing in those words that Sansa hadn't heard from him before.
Theon's hands moved from her face down her body before resting on her thighs. His lips moved down her body, leaving a trail of kisses from her lips to her chest. Sansa looked down at Theon, her skin still reddened from the heat and array of emotions coursing through her.
"I want to make you feel good," Theon rasped as he glanced up at Sansa. "May I make you feel good, Lady Sansa?"
Sansa blushed as she nodded her head. Theon being on his knees in front of her turned her on much more than she could care to admit. The way he looked up at her with glossy blue eyes and how his voice sounded as though every word from his lips was a plea. It were as though he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. And that made Sansa feel good. She wanted to feel wanted, not as though she belongs to someone.
Theon gave Sansa a small quirk of his lips, almost a smile but not quite as he kissed her stomach. He gently opened Sansa's legs, his eyes remaining on her as he did so.
Sansa tensed, a pang of anxiety hitting her at once as the situation became more real. She looked down at Theon. Though she was scared, rightfully so, she knew the man before her would never harm her. Theon had been the one to save her, to guide her to safety away from Ramsay. He had been the one to try and use whatever warmth he had to shield her from the harsh cold after being forced to travel through a stream. He had been her light when things were too dark. With a shaky breath, Sansa relaxed as she remained focused on Theon, not allowing herself to wallow in her fears and trauma from Ramsay.
"If you need to stop at any moment, please tell me to stop," He spoke, his eyes still fixated on Sansa's.
"I will," She replied, giving him a small smile. "I just-" She paused for a moment. "Can you hold my hand?" Her voice held a vulnerability to it much like it had earlier in the night.
Theon returned Sansa's smile as he lifted his non-dominant hand, the one with the most missing appendages. Their hands clasped together as Sansa held on tightly. It was a way to ground herself, to let her know that this was real and she wasn't back in her other rooms being raped by a man who gave her no care. She was in Theon's old chambers with Theon, under the gaze of Theon, holding Theon's hand. Nothing else mattered except Theon.
Theon. Theon. Theon.
Theon leaned down as he placed gentle kisses along Sansa's the outside of Sansa's thighs. He gently opened her legs a bit more, exposing her glistening cunt to him. It was clear she had been turned on from his minstrations earlier and that fact gave him a swell of pride. He kissed the inside of her thighs, easing up towards that part of her.
Theon glanced back at Sansa's face, silently asking permission to touch her where he wanted to touch her. Sansa nodded her head as she squeezed Theon's hand. Then, without further hesitation, Theon leaned in. His breath was warm against Sansa's skin. He licked a strip from her entrance to her clit.
Sansa made a sound that was close to a whimper. She had heard stories of men going down on women. During her brief stay with the Night's Watch, she had learned much more about Jon's first encounter with sex than she ever wanted to learn about her brother or cousin or whatever he was. That didn't matter though, not at the moment. Sansa hadn't known that it could feel so good.
Theon's tongue flicked Sansa's clit, moving in little eights. She moaned softly, her free hand going to Theon's hair. He then wrapped his lips around her bud and sucked. "Theon," Sansa gasped and moaned, her fingers entangling with his curls.
Theon began eating Sansa out like a deprived man. He wanted to take it slow and sensual, to show her what it was like to simply feel. But it was too tempting to just bury his nose in her scent and devour her. Theon's tongue lapped all over her cunt while he practically made out with it. She tasted heavenly, blessed by the Drowned God himself.
Sansa's moans grew louder, much louder than she intended. Her fingers continued tugging on Theon's hair, her other hand squeezing his. She threw her head back in pleasure, thoroughly enjoying the feelings Theon was giving her.
"Fuck," She whimpered out, opening her eyes to look down at Theon. Any doubts about Theon simply doing this to appease her were gone as she watched the way he moved his face against her cunt. She didn't think it possible for a man to enjoy it so much.
His middle finger prodded at her entrance, teasing the hole. Sansa gasped at the sudden feeling but welcomed it, nonetheless. She was too far gone in pleasure, desperate for some sort of release, whatever that may be.
Theon slowly eased his finger inside of her before withdrawing it and repeating the motion a few times. As she adjusted to the intrusion, Theon curled the finger slightly, hitting that spot inside of her. "Theon," Sansa moaned, her eyes falling closed once more.
His lips wrapped around her clit, his tongue moving in sync with his finger now as he fingered her slowly. Eventually he added a second finger, curling it like the other one before moving a bit faster.
Sansa felt amazing. She hadn't known pleasure like this before. Her body was hot, her blood was pumping, she felt something building inside of her that she hadn't quite felt before. All she knew was that she didn't want Theon to stop whatsoever.
"Theon," Sansa moaned out his name again, still tugging at his hair. Theon hummed against Sansa clit, sending vibrations through her, which ellicited another loud moan from the woman.
His rhythm grew faster as Sansa's breathing grew more ragged. It wasn't long before she was gasping and whining in pleasure, that feeling inside of her coiling rapidly. And with a loud cry, Sansa came hard around Theon's fingers. Her body tensed up, her hold on Theon's hair tightened, and her thighs clenched around Theon's face. Theon fingered her through her orgasm, not stopping until Sansa finally came down from her high.
As she relaxed, Sansa breathed heavily. Her eyes opened back up to look at Theon. Theon's face was glistening with her juices as he held that familiar arrogant smirk that Sansa remembered from the old Theon. He withdrew his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth as he sucked on the digits.
The sight was absolutely sinful. Sansa couldn't help but watch as Theon sucked on his fingers, soaking up all of her juices into his mouth. His pupils were blown out and his hair was wild. Theon was truly a sight to behold. And in that moment, all Sansa could imagine was sitting on Theon's face. But she quickly pushed that image away, hoping she could live out that fantasy if they survive the Long Night.
Theon withdrew his fingers and licked his lips. He looked up at Sansa, that smirk on his face once more. "Did I please my lady?" He asked.
"Shut up," Sansa replied with a blush on her cheeks because it didn't really need saying on whether Theon pleased her or not.
Theon simply let out a chuckle before moving to stand up. His knees cracked, causing him to groan slightly, before he moved to lie on the bed near the pillows. His arms were open, as if silently inviting Sansa to lie with him.
Sansa gave him a shy smile before she scooted back on the mattress. She lied down, her head resting on Theon's chest as he held her from behind. "Thank you," Sansa murmured as Theon wrapped his arms around her.
"It was my pleasure," He murmured back, pressing a kiss onto the crown of Sansa's head.
Sansa hummed in response, a lazy smile on her lips.
Silence encompassed the two of them as they lied there in bliss. It was a welcomed silence, one that gave peace and comfort, something calming before the battle that would happen in just mere hours. Sansa felt herself dozing, her eyes closed but not quite asleep. She rested against Theon, listening to his breathing.
"I wish life had gone differently for us," Theon murmured as he traced soft patterns on Sansa's stomach with his fingers. "That I could've married you instead of you becoming betrothed to Joffrey."
Theon's voice awoke Sansa from her dozing, his words processing in her brain. Her heart clenched but she didn't reply quite yet.
"I would've given you the world," Theon continued. "I would've treated you so well, even if I was an idiot most of the time."
"Yeah?" Sansa finally spoke up.
Theon hummed in confirmation. "I never would've yelled at you. Never would've laid so much as a hand on you without your permission. I would've respected you," He sighed, still tracing patterns on her stomach. "I would've loved you," He whispered.
Sansa's breath hitched at those last few years, her heart pounding in her chest. After a few moments, she finally spoke. "Do you?" She asked.
Theon tensed just a fraction, as though he hadn't expected her to ask such a question. "I do," He said softly in confirmation.
Sansa let out a breath. "Me too," she whispered, tilting her head to look at Theon.
They didn't need to say the exact words outwardly to understand how the other felt. It was shown in how they cared for one another. Theon leaned down, pressing a kiss onto Sansa's lips, a kiss that sealed their love.
And the last kiss they'd share ever.
The following hours after their time alone were heartbreaking and hectic to say the least. Sansa had been left in the Crypts, alongside her first husband and the other women and children, wondering what was happening above them. And by morning, when the battle had been won and lives had been lost, Sansa found herself searching for Theon amongst everyone.
The surviving men who were not suffering from severe injuries were taking their time and gathering the dead. Pyres were being built so they could burn the dead, though if the Night King were dead, it's really just a formality. She had seen Jon, Arya, and Bran, but no Theon. She had a feeling in her gut, one that told her he hadn't made it.
Here she was, stood in the courtyard, hopeful that Theon survived. But that hope was quickly shattered as she saw men carrying the familiar body of the man she loved. Tears prickled in her eyes before sobs eruppted out of her, the realization that Theon was dead coming to her hard.
She didn't know how much time had passed or how she moved from the courtyard to outside the castle walls. The pyres were filled with the dead. Many important people had died during the Long Night. Lyanna Mormont, Jorah Mormont, Edd from the Night's Watch, and Theon.
Sansa stood in front of Theon's body, sobbing as she gave him the Stark pin. She stood there much longer than she should've, thinking about what could've been.
Had Ned Stark betrothed Sansa to Theon instead of to Joffrey, her life would've been much different. She always disliked Theon when growing up. He always preferred to stay by Robb, to seek approval from her father, or play rough with her brothers and Arya.
A marriage with Theon likely would've resulted in many arguments throughout their life together. He was stupid, cocky, and arrogant before everything with Ramsay. It likely would've been maddening. She liked things a certain way while Theon didn't care how things were. He preferred ale over wine while Sansa preferred lemon cakes over candied fruits.
And yet, she knew that if Theon had been given the opportunity to take her as a wife, she would've been treated well. He would've been kind to her, despite their arguing. If she were downcast, he would do anything to cheer her up, even if he were to make a fool of himself in the process.
Sansa would've been happy. There wouldn't have been Ramsay. There wouldn't have been Joffrey. There wouldn't have been Lord Baelish. There would've only been Theon and her siblings in Winterfell, living their lives in the cold, happy and alive.
Robb and Rickon would've still been alive.
And she would've loved Theon with all her heart. She would've stayed by his side, been a good wife and friend to him. She would've held him when he was down and smiled when he was up. Because despite his faults, and despite hers, their feelings for one another would've been real, not transactional like it was with Joffrey or nonexistent with Ramsay. It would have been real with Theon.
Her heart ached with grief as she thought about a life she could never possess. Her love for Theon was forged through years of hardship and trauma. He had been her light in a time so dark just as she had been to him.
Sansa was no longer the ignorant and naive little girl she had once was who wished to leave Winterfell and live elsewhere. She was now Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell, who suffered through much more than anyone could truly comprehend. And the one person who could ever truly understand what she had gone through, who had gone through it beside her, was dead and gone from the world.
The only man she ever truly loved and had truly loved her back.
And now, Sansa had to walk alone in the world, with no one by her side to hold her when things got too hard.
After what felt like an eternity, Sansa walked away from the pyre. She was exhausted and her eyes hurt from crying and her heart felt heavy from the pain. Sansa loved Theon more than she'd ever be able to tell him, more than he'd been able to tell her.
Last night, before the battle, will always be close to her heart and a memory that never fades from her mind. It hadn't been just about forgetting Ramsay. It had been about finally getting a chance to be with Theon, to have the perfect night with him. Sansa never got to cherish him in her youth. But now, she will always hold him close to her heart as she goes through life.
Maybe one day she'll marry another. She'll likely have to in order to produce heirs and continue the Stark line. But no one could ever compare to the love she held for Theon. He was hers and she was his and with their final kiss, she pledged her love. It was written in stars and even by the Gods themselves, Sansa belonged only to Theon.
writing this long night theonsa fic and it’s my first time writing for them but it’s coming out so beautifully. so here’s a lil sneak peak for you guys
is anyone possibly interested in a theonsa fic based on the long night before the battle? where they get some time alone together and confront their feelings and it’s all romantic, angsty, possibly a bit smutty, etc.
About: Could he do it? One last day with his love, could he do it? Something that The Doctor already has done. As he took in Kazaran’s question, many memories went through his brain, memories of the times with his true beloved. If he could choose one last day with her, what day would he choose?
Originally Posted on AO3; you guys may know me as @minswriting
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 1k
“Could you do it?” Kazran asked, looking at the girl in the pod in front of him before glancing at The Doctor. “Could you do this? Think about it, Doctor,” Kazran glanced back at the girl. “One last day with your beloved, which day would you choose?”
The Doctor closed his eyes for what seemed like a brief moment. His beloved, the woman that helped him through the emotional turmoil that was the genocide of all of his people, his sunshine, his flower, his Rose. All of time slowed down as he thought about Kazran’s statement. One last day with his beloved, he already had that. And he mucked it up by sending her back home with the metacrisis version of himself rather than owning up to his feelings.
If he could choose one last day, however, which one would he choose? Many memories made with his darling Rose, all significant in their own ways. It would be impossible to pinpoint just one day.
A brief flash of his first time meeting Rose appeared in his mind. The Doctor was all leather jacket and big ears, Rose was all young and ready for adventure. The day he told her “run” was the day that began it all. He cherished that day, more than any other with all of his companions, no offense to Amy and Rory. But in a sorrowful and self-deprecating way, The Doctor also regretted taking Rose’s hand. Those thoughts, however, were minimal. He regretted not ever owning up to the feelings he had for Rose, not any of their times together.
Then there was that time when they were in London during World War II. She was all wanting him to dance while he was nervous, mind wandering about what could possibly be happening to the people with the gas masks. That day, however, was the day that The Doctor realized his growing feelings for Rose as they danced together even as they teleported onto Captain Jack’s ship, unaware of their changed surroundings. Why would The Doctor be so aware of anything other than the fact he was dancing with Rose?
And the day on the game station changed so very much about their dynamic. The Doctor sent her home, wanting to keep his precious Rose safe. And yet, she did everything in her power to get back to him. She looked into the heart of the TARDIS and the TARDIS looked into hers. With eyes glowing as bright as her hair, Rose had looked ethereal, truly a masterpiece blessed by time itself.
“I looked into the TARDIS, and the TARDIS looked into me,” She had spoken, glancing down at The Doctor. He looked at her, mesmerized, intrigued, but also scared. “I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself. I take the words…” She looked over at the Bad Wolf sign. “I scatter them through time and space. A message to leave myself here. I want you safe, my Doctor, protected from the false god.”
His Rose, his wolf, doing everything in her power to keep him safe. Oh how he loved her so much. The power was too much for her, however, as no human could ever keep the energy of the Time Vortex inside of themselves. And with a kiss, The Doctor ensured that Rose would not die from the energy inside of her.
And thus his regeneration ensued.
The Doctor had been worried that Rose wouldn’t like his new self. He hadn’t explained what regeneration was to her, hadn’t gotten the chance to. So it was more than a surprise for her. However, after the whole debacle with the Sycorax, Rose was far more accepting. And The Doctor, all pinstripes and sandshoes, was happy that she would remain by his side.
His mind moved to a memory of New Earth, the whole issue with Cassandra. He couldn’t deny, however, the kiss that Cassandra gave him as Rose had affected him much more than he cared to admit. To be fair, however, at that moment he had thought it was Rose. But that was beside the point. He would’ve loved to kiss again, a proper kiss that shared his affections for her. Alas, The Doctor was a coward, and therefore, that never got to happen.
His feelings were too much, he became an idiot, trying his hardest to distance himself from Rose by inviting Mickey onto the ship and going after Reinette. How stupid he was for that. He should’ve embraced her, should’ve told her that while she spent her life with him, he’d make it worthwhile. Had he known what he knows now, The Doctor would’ve done more, could’ve done more.
That fateful Doomsday where he lost the woman that taught him happiness, all because of his own mistakes. And when he finally connected with her, happy as could be to embrace her once more, he ripped her away with another version of himself. All hope, all happiness, was lost.
The Doctor, after encountering The Master’s grand plan, had taken in too much radiation, signaling his regeneration. But he didn’t want to go yet, not until he said goodbye in his own way to the others. And when he finally got to see Rose, one last time before he left, he thought he would’ve felt peace, knowing she was okay in another universe. However, he didn’t feel peace at all. He felt regret, he felt pain, he felt anger, all in himself. He could’ve done so much more, so much more for her, for his Rose.
And now, he was in a body that had never gotten to see or touch her in any way, shape, or form. Not a sentence spoken with his new voice, never getting to see her with his green eyes, and never getting to hold her with his arms. But that one last day, that was all he got.
The Doctor opened his eyes, looking back at Kazran. What had felt like many minutes was really only just a few seconds. If The Doctor could spend one last day with Rose, he would do anything in his power to get her back to him. She was his and he was hers, forever separated by another universe that he cannot go back to.
About: The Doctor visits Rose one last time before he regenerates.
AO3 Link
Warnings: Angst, pining
Word Count: 1.4k
I wanna go party, I wanna have fun
I wanna be happy, could you show me how it's done?
The Doctor wasn't thinking too hard when he put in the location for the TARDIS. He didn't care much about what year it was, he could hardly care if he accidentally saw his ninth self. He just needed to see her one last time before it all came to an end. Before he came to an end. The pain in his body began to become unbearable. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, as he waddled out of the TARDIS.
In front of him were the Powell Estates, the home of where his precious Rose once resided. He often wondered how she was like before he met her. She didn't speak much about her past before meeting him. There were the basics, of course. How she didn't get her A Levels, how Mickey was her boyfriend at some point, some disgusting man named Jimmy Stone. He wish he knew more and perhaps that other version of himself will so in a way, he would too. But alas, here he was, separated by a whole other universe.
The Doctor walked from the TARDIS to across the way, leaning himself against a wall as he looked towards where Rose's apartment was. He missed her more than anything in the entire universe.
He cringed, groaning in pain as he leaned into the wall next to him. The pain of the radiation was kicking in, it won't be long until his regeneration happens once again.
"You alright mate?" Came the voice of the woman he'd lost twice.
You look so pretty, pretty like the sun
I could watch forever while you shine on everyone
There she stood, all pink and yellow, looking at him with a look of concern. She was beautiful, always had been. With her blonde hair and hazel eyes and those wonderful lips that he'd only had the chance to kiss twice during their time together. She was, is, will forever be the most gorgeous creature in all of the universe, forever on the Doctor's mind. He knew that he would never forget her, no matter what may become of his future.
He looked over at Rose, nodding his head. "Yeah," he responded, a bit strained.
It's Black Friday, we're in a black taxi
You take my hand and hold it gently on the middle seat
It took everything in his power not to grab Rose's hand with his and take her into the TARDIS with him as his body begins to change. He remembered that first day he met her underneath Henrik's. He was all leather and big ears, checking out the harmful mannequins. And she was simply there, along for the ride. Rose had always been someone to come along for the ride.
"Run," He had told her as he grabbed her hand, running from the danger that was after them. And from that day forward, Rose was always there to hold his hand. Their hands always fit perfectly with one another. His body, this body, was made for Rose, every single part of himself. Why would he want to let that go?
"Too much to drink?" She asked, her arms crossed around her chest to shield herself from the cold.
"Something like that," He said, standing up straight.
It's all in my head, it's all in my mind
I'm so selfish, you're so kind
It's all in my head, baby, I can't breathe
I look in the mirror, what is happening to me?
The Doctor was a very selfish man. If he had it his way, he would've kept Rose all for himself. But he couldn't, wouldn't. He would live for as long as he could, choosing a different face until time itself runs out. And Rose, his dearest Rose, with her human life force, would die way before his time ran out.
He thought about the fact he left her in Bad Wolf Bay with his other self, with little to no care for what Rose wanted. The Doctor knew she loved him and he left a piece of himself with her. It's what she would've wanted. Deep down, however, he knew that if given a choice, Rose would've chosen to stay with him. He had the TARDIS and the TARDIS was Rose's home, had been since the day she stepped on it and only solidified when she looked into the heart of his ship.
He supposed that he always made decisions for Rose. It was always for the greater good, that he couldn't deny. But that day, in Canary Wharf, he had put the dimension hopper onto Rose and pressed the button without even asking her. Because in his mind, Rose being with her family was better than falling into the void. But she came back, all fiery and ready for battle, just as his Rose always was. She always loved an adventure, no matter the danger.
"Maybe it's time you went home."
"Yeah," He replied.
I wanna better body, I want better skin
I wanna be perfect like all your other friends
You look so pretty, pretty like the wind
Every time you touch me, I feel adrenaline
He was unsure of what his new body will bring. Will he be ginger? Will he be Scottish? What if he regenerates into a teenager or into an old person? Regardless, it didn't matter, except perhaps being ginger, that did matter to him. His new body would have never touched his beloved Rose and that saddened him more than he cared to allow himself to feel.
A body that had never gotten to hug Rose, hold her hand, or kiss her. He thought about those nights, or what was considered nights anyway, on the TARDIS when they'd pop a movie on in the media room and cuddled on the luxurious couch. He would have a body that never even got to hold her in his arms.
It's Black Friday, the end of the week
You take my hand and hold it gently up against your cheek
Rose smiled at him with her bright and beautiful smile. "Anyway, happy new year," she said joyfully.
"And you," He responded, trying his best to smile. Rose turned around to walk away but he called out, "What year is this?"
Rose turned to look at him with a bit of an incredulous expression on her face. "Blimey, how much have you had?" she asked. Just as The Doctor was about to respond, she continued. "2005, January the First," she answered.
"2005?" He asked. Rose nodded her head in response. "Tell you what. I bet you're gonna have a really great year."
"Yeah?" Rose asked a bit shyly before grinning. "See you," she said before walking away.
It's all in my head, it's all in my mind
I see the darkness where you see the light
It's all in my head, who do I trust?
I thought that you loved me, what is happening to us?
What is happening to us?
What is happening to us?
And she was gone, walking back to her apartment and leaving The Doctor with his pain and his thoughts. Regeneration was never easy, especially when that version of himself didn't want to go. He had loved Rose more than he could ever express. He supposed that's why he never had the opportunity to tell her. He was cowardly, still is, and likely will always be. There will be new people, new companions, others that he would come to care for. But none of them would ever compare to his Rose.
She was his light in the dark, the flower that bloomed in the storm, and the one that helped him through the atrocity of killing his own people. And now, she was gone, forever trapped in a parallel universe with another version of himself that will get the life he will never get to have; a life with Rose.
