bakerstreet | ✖ bodyguard? lover? the lines are blurred, now.

✖ bodyguard? lover? the lines are blurred, now.

PROTECTOR/PROTECTED
shipping meme

There’s no real push to your actions; you do them as if they were second nature. Perhaps, initially, you were assigned this role, as protector and guardian of this person. Maybe you took it on because there was no one else. A natural guardian or not, good or evil, you caught a shining to them and felt…something. Something hard to explain, but you want to keep them safe and happy - or at the very least, content. No one is as dedicated to them as you. You want them to reach their goals; to help them achieve them, you'll do what you must, even if it means being their gofer or their right hand.

But most of all, you don't want them to end up like you. They're worth more than that.

Yet somehow, along the line, you became more to them, more than just their protector. You protect them anew and you've found a different way to make them happy. It's selfish, too, because you love them in your way and you want them more than anything. You may feel guilty, of course. They don't, though, and that's what matters.

Comment with your character, preferences, and what you'd prefer to play: protector or protected.
Remember, you don't have to be so rigid. A traditionally weak character can "protect" a traditionally strong one in emotional ways.
Reply to others.

Promise ✖ You told them you would take care of their lover, no matter what. You intend to follow through with that.
Close ✖ What are friends for if not taking care of unfinished business?
Debt Owed ✖ Kindness or favor has to be repaid, even if it's an investment in someone else.
Atonement ✖ Whether or not you particularly cared for the person who's gone is irrelevant. You just need to make up for past sins.
No Good ✖ You're taking care of the one left behind, but not out of good intentions. There may be ulterior motives here - no, there are definitely ulterior motives here. Or maybe this is the one good thing you've done in your life.
Guilt ✖ It's your fault that you're here and their significant other isn't. It's a paltry repayment.
Bearer of Bad News ✖ You can't blame them for wanting to shoot the messenger. You are telling them their lover is dead.
Related ✖ In days past, the living partner would be cared for by their dead partner's family. As a sibling or cousin of the deceased, you want to continue that tradition and take care of "family."
Wo/man Up ✖ Actually, their lover isn't dead, they're just dead to you, unable or unwilling to take care of business. You're stepping up.
Friends ✖ You were all friends before, so it's only natural for you to want to look out for them now.
Derisive ✖ ...this is the person they loved so much? This is who you're supposed to protect? Pathetic.
Resentful ✖ You can never forgive them. They're the reason your lover is dead, no matter how they treat you.
What They Saw in You ✖ You're beginning to see why someone would love them, how they'd want to give up their old ways and change. It's almost...nice.
Warming Up ✖ If you didn't get along at first, the claws are being put away now. It's better to at least be civil, isn't it?
Still in Danger ✖ Whatever killed one half of the pair is still out there, and the other half is in danger themselves.
Other Complications ✖ Not only did your mutual acquaintance leave behind a lover, but also children. You find yourself getting closer and closer to them, too, even if they aren't yours.
Compromised ✖ You can't look after them with a level head. You love them.
Can't Love Again ✖ You've lost before. You can't risk losing again, can you?
Out of the Dark ✖ One or both of you find yourselves in a hole. You can barely eat, hardly sleep, and depression has taken hold of you. Together, though, you may find the light and a way out of despair.
First Time ✖ Simply what it says. You two have taken your relationship to the next level.
Changed ✖ Before, you were bitter. Hard. Jaded. Now, helping someone - specifically, helping this person - has brought a new kind of joy into your life. You could get used to it. Easily and dangerously used to it, to be brutally honest. You shouldn't allow it.
Living Together ✖ You can take care of them more throughly if you're in the same place as they are, obviously.
Hidden Jealousy ✖ When their lover was alive, you were jealous of everything they had - including the fact that they had the person you're looking after now. Admitting this may make you feel like the most awful person in the world.
Secrets Revealed ✖ Eventually, your involvement with the death of their beloved will come out, and they will never be able to look at you the same way.
Dependent ✖ Replacing one unhealthy habit with another, you've become utterly dependent on your relationship with your caretaker, your guardian, your lover.
Won't Be a Replacement ✖ You can't help but feel as if you're merely serving as a stand in for what they've lost. It's understandable, yet you still can't allow yourself to be that and only that.
Not Really Gone ✖ What is dead should stay dead, but what if who you thought was gone isn't really out of the picture? Will they be happy with finding someone else so cozy and in love with their special someone?
The Same Mistakes ✖ You're falling into the same patterns that lead to their death. Will you meet the same fate?
Who's Helping Who ✖ You think you're taking care of them and helping them through their loss. Is that the case? But who's never been this happy before in their life?
Move On ✖ It's time to put ghosts to rest and let old demons go. You can't let your life become a graveyard.
Tragedy ✖ The ending is unhappy or even deadly for both of you.
Happy Ending ✖ In contrast to the above, you're both able to live as together as happily as you possibly can, whatever can be allowed.
WILDCARD

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She had picked most of her chicken clean and forced herself to empty her mug by the time Jon returned. A bard had wandered from table to table, begging for coins and offering songs in return. He had managed to overlook Margaery, much to her delight and relief. No matter the disguise she wore, she was certain that she would be recognized, if anyone got a good look at her.

When Jon returned, her nerves relaxed. "Stand guard?" She grinned, amused by the idea, as there was no modesty between she and Jon. They had known each other in every sense of the word. "Does she not believe that I am your wife? Or does she worry about what some of the other patrons might do?" She knew that it was dangerous for a woman to travel, even with an escort.

She got to her feet and informed the serving girl that she was ready. While the hot water was being prepared, she remained at Jon's side, watching the patrons downstairs. "Are there any bannermen you recognize? I have seen no houses that are sworn to House Tyrell."

Jon smiled wryly at her questions. "More of the latter, I suspect. This is far from the most disreputable establishment I've been to, but there are still dangers along the road. It's a wise enough suggestion, and you can be sure I'll take her advice." The promise underarm the statement was unspoken. He'd sworn to protect and care for Margaery for the rest of his days, and he would hardly shirk that duty within the first few days of being together.

At the word of the serving girl, he watched as Margaery slipped into the bath room and gave her a wink, as if to let her know he would most assuredly be imagining her naked behind the door. He closed it behind her, heard Margaery throw the lock, then leaned against the door to wait.

No more than five or ten minutes passed before three rough, surly-looking men climbed the stairs, their eyes fastened tight to the door behind Jon. Making a mental note to repay the serving girl for her suggestion, Jon pushed himself upright with a sigh. "I don't suppose I can just ask you fellas to turn around and have another drink?"

The ruckus Margaery would have heard through the door would be loud, but brief. A moment after it was quiet again, she would hear a knock at the door and Jon's voice calling out. "Nothing to worry about, dear."

She had only just dipped into the water when a ruckus came from outside the door. There was the sound of shouting and angry voices, bodes scraping against the walls. She had no way of knowing what had happened, but felt dread bubble up inside her. She knew Jon was capable, but he could only withstand a certain amount of opponents and the sounds made it clear there was more than one man out there.

Margaery was scrambling to her feet when Jon knocked at the door. Simply hearing his voice was a relief. "Nothing?" She asked incredulously. He could say that, but the reality was that she was not going to be very comfortable to linger in the bath. Whatever pleasure it was to offer her, it had been spoiled by the gruffer patrons that the serving girl had warned them about.

Hurriedly scrubbing her face and skin, Margaery pulled out of the bath and dressed once more, peeking out of the door before emerging. "What happened?" She asked, her eyes darting about. It seemed unlikely that they had been found so quickly, but there was still that whispered fear that someone from King's Landing had followed them.

Jon tried to give the face that peered out of the door a reassuring smile. "We owe that girl a coin or two. I'd wager this wasn't the first time a few of the patrons decided to try and pay a visit on a lady while she was bathing. They'll be sleeping this one off for a bit," he concluded, pushing one of the unconscious men away from the door with his boot so that Margaery could open it.

When she emerged, he leaned in and kissed her. "Sorry if all that gave you a fright. You look more comfortable, at least, if not refreshed."

Jon stepped inside, leaving the door open so that he could keep an eye on the hall. He stripped just enough to run a wet washcloth over his skin, ridding himself of most of the grime of travel before dressing again.

"Right then," he said, rejoining Margaery. Let's see if we can at least find a pallet to lay down on that's close to clean."

She stared down at the gruff men with more relief than she should. She had escaped a dangerous and frightening situation, thanks to Jon's presence. But knowing they weren't Lannister or King's guard, that comforted Margaery. There were enough dangers at their heels, she hadn't considered the daily ones that they could face.

She waited patiently as Jon quickly cleaned himself, watching the rest of the patrons below. No one seemed to notice them or were disturbed by the scuffle before. The rest were too absorbed in their meals and conversations to notice anything amiss. If they were questioned later, no one would remember them or their presence at this inn.

Margaery linked her hand with Jon's, glancing about for the innkeeper. "The attic room might be the best." It would allow them the chance to hear someone's approach. "I don't mind the state of the pallet." She said, leading him downstairs, finding the man with a mug of beer in his hand. Drunk, thankfully. Another person who wouldn't remember them. "I only want a few hour's sleep."

After arranging for the room, Jon took Margaery by the hand and led her back upstairs. "Perhaps instead of hiding you away in our cottage, I should make you an aide to the Lord Commander. You're not half bad at tactics." He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek before opening the door.

The room felt smaller than it was, with its ceiling angled thanks to the pitch of the roof, but at least there was something between them and the thatch. A pallet in the corner was so narrow that Margaery would essentially have to lay atop him for them both to fit, but it at least looked as though the straw had been changed recently.

Jon set their single sack of belongings aside, threw the lock on the door and barred it with the single chair he found.

"Your palace for the night, my Lady."

It was the first night that she would spend away from the palace, away from the comforts of her noble life. There might be fleas or lice lurking in the straw, but it would be the most satisfying sleep she experienced before. After hours of riding and fear dogging at their heels, she could relax in her lover's arms and let nothing but dreams of their future together fill her head.

"Your men might begin to question why you are locked away with your aide every night." She teased him, her mind drifting towards Loras and the rumors that had followed him for most of his life. Was he in danger now? Would he be punished in her stead? She shook her head. She couldn't think of that, not yet, not until they were safe.

She pulled at the ties to her dress, tossing aside her bodice with a sigh of relief. Her bust was too ample for the gown they had chosen and her legs too long for the skirts. It was ill suited, but managed to conceal her identity.

Margaery felt herself relax, able to smile once more at him as she had in their secret house in King's Landing. the thrill of their escape and the rush of fear stirred her lust. Every moment they were together, every mile they traveled, it needed to be cherished. If they were found, they would be their last memories.

She moved to his side, pressing her body against his. "Warm me once more?"

Jon nodded. It hadn't been one of his more serious suggestions, in any case. Even they'd cut her hair and somehow managed to keep all of Castle Black convinced that she was simply a very pretty boy, the fact that his aide would spend every waking moment-- and night-- locked up with the Lord Commander would create rumors he couldn't be able to control or suppress.

Besides, Jon thought wryly, it would have been a crime to cut that hair he loved so much.

He watched her start to disrobe, laughing quietly at the noise of relief she made once free of the stolen, ill-fitting bodice. Jon himself unbuckled his leather jerkin and set it aside, tugging at his shirt to let air underneath it.

When Margaery moved up close to him, he placed his hands on her waist and raised an eyebrow. "What sort of warming do you have in mind? I didn't know how tired you would be from travel."

Between their separation in King's Landing and the time they would have to endure apart at the cottage, the idea of being Jon's aide was appealing, but more of a joke. She didn't doubt that there would be an eager brother, willing to reveal her presence to the Crown in exchange for a pardon. As much as she wanted to believe that the Wall was her safe Haven, a place where they could be free together, his brothers couldn't be trusted.

Her presence was a secret that only they could keep between each other. In public and outside of their room, she was a "Rivers". Here at least, she was his Margaery.

"I am tired, but not enough to be dissuaded." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Are you sore or exhausted?"

They could have their little play fantasies all they want, and joke about them when they had the time for such ease. For now, though, they needed to focus on the real difficulties ahead of them in securing this dream for themselves, the one that separated them from the rest of the world, together.

"I am both of those things," Jon replied, although having Margaery hold him so close was draining his fatigue quickly. "However, you are much too great a temptation to surrender to something as petty as being tired." Jon leaned down and closed his lips over Margaery's.

It wasn't wise to let their guard down, she knew this. However, after all of the separations and fears, for all the anxieties and uncertainties to come, she wanted just a measure of contentment. She wanted to feel as though she tasted the dream, if in fact it was later to be taken from them.

She had no desire to think so pessimistically, but there were no guarantees. They both knew this and their lives were in greater danger now than before. It was difficult to keep a clear head while they were alone (for who knows how long).

She smiled against his kiss, pressing more against him in an effort to find that stability and warmth that he always brought her. She had made this journey, drawing from her strength and determination, but now that they were alone, she needed to lean on him. She needed him to fill her with the strength that had dwindled from her body.

"A temptation?" She murmured against his lips. "I suppose I am the woman that tempted the Night's Watchman from his vows."

That concern ran beneath everything they've done and said and thought in the last day, ever since their initial desperate flight from King's Landing. For all they knew, they were on borrowed time. And although they have not discussed such things directly, Jon knew neither one of them would trade a moment of time together for a lifetime of safety.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers, smiling.

"Theon used to tell us some of his people's legends. Some sailors told tales of beautiful women who sat on the rocks by the shore, tempting ships to hear their songs and love them. Called them sirens."

Jon kissed her. "You'd be the most tempting siren of all."

They had never taken their time together for granted, but now everything was so much more dangerous. Their escape wasn't a fantasy, it was happening and that adrenaline was coursing through her. With every mile, they were closer to their cottage. For all they knew, guards were on their heels, but so long as they had a taste of the dream, everything else fell away.

Her fingers slipped into his hair, tightening as she gazed deeply into his eyes, losing herself in him.

"What did these sirens do when they ensnared a man?" She couldn't imagine it was a beautiful ending. "You think I am the temptation? You have swept me away from life in King's Landing. I think you are the true siren."

Jon shrugged. "I don't remember," he lied. "But whatever the ending, it doesn't matter to me, so long as I have you. Or you have me. Or both." He laughed and leaned in, brushing his lips across Margaery's. "So we've tempted each other into this adventure. I like the sound of that."

As utterly devoted to her as he felt, Jon was no fool. He knew what kind of woman he'd given his heart to: strong, determined, brilliant, and powerful. He could not imagine her being anything but equal to him in this, and Jon would have her no other way.

"What else should we lure each other into doing?" he asked, one hand sliding up her side until it rested over one of her breasts, cupping Margaery through her dress.

She shivered under his hand, pressing her head against his shoulder. He was warm against her, her body subconsciously arching into him. Her hands slipped under his shirt, feeling the skin of his chest and the coil of his muscles.

"Something unwise?" She asked, teasing him. It was far from unwise in her opinion. After drifting for so long in King's Landing, thinking only of power, she felt as though she were coming alive again. In his arms, she had found a piece of herself that had been dormant for so long. She was his entirely the moment they had first kissed. Now, she couldn't imagine being in another's bed. She wanted to exist only in Jon's and to enjoy her nights like this, no matter how small or dirty the room was.

She pressed a kiss against his neck, slowly working her way up towards his lips, her desire heated and burning for him.

"Something unwise," Jon repeated. "I suppose there's no reason to stop now."

He tilted his head down to meet Margaery halfway, their lips meeting. Jon felt a rush of heat at that contact, as though the woman gave him breath or life or whatever might happen in one of Old Nan's fairy stories. The difference was that Jon did indeed only feel truly alive with her.

Sighing into Margaery's kiss, Jon could feel himself stirring with desire. Glancing down at the modest pallet, while he did not find it especially unclean, neither did it seem very sturdy. Then, a thought occurred to him and he leaned down, gathering up Margaery's dress until he could reach his hand beneath her skirts to stroke her center.

"I pray you never stop," she said breathlessly, the contact of his lips making her head spin.

His desire was evident against her, both by the rapidity of his heart and the arousal pressing against her hips. She pressed more against him, encouraging his hunger for her. She hadn't thought about the sturdiness of the pallet or the cleanliness of the straw. All that was on her mind was the feeling of his body and how much she wanted him within her again.

It was with a sudden gasp that she realized what his fingers were about. All at once, her skirts were raised and he was stroking her expertly. She trembled, feeling her knees weaken. "Jon!" She whispered his name in amazement. Tugging at his shirt, she pulled it from him, brushing her lips against his shoulder and neck, nipping playfully at his skin.

Jon moved back from her only long enough for Margaery to pull his shirt off and cast it aside. Once that was done, he was close to her again-- closer, in fact, his free arm looping around behind the woman to hold her close and give her the support he expected her to need soon enough.

Below her skirt, his fingers were even busier, coaxing heat and wetness from her center, giving her pleasure at the same time he wanted her ready to take him inside once more. "Need you," he murmured almost desperately against Margaery's cheek.

As soon as his shirt was off, she was already untying his breeches hastily. She had hoped to prolong things between them, to make this as romantic as it had been when he returned to King's Landing and they had decided to run away together. However, her body and his fingers drove away her wish for anticipation.

She moaned softly, hoping to keep her voice quiet. The last thing she wanted was for the entire inn to know how well Jon aroused her and stoked her need for him. "Take me," she whispered at him in return, her hips rocking against his hand.

There was certainly much to be said for the slow, languid lovemaking they'd enjoyed so many times during their secret trysts in King's Landing, but for the moment, circumstances dictated something different.

When Margaery loosed his breeches, she'd be treated to freeing his cock, now rendered achingly hard from even just what they'd done so far. For her part, he could feel how ready she was.

Jon sat down on the pallet, then pulled Margaery to him, guiding her to straddle his lap. Soon, the tip of his cock touched her sex, and he helped the woman lower herself onto his waiting shaft until she was seated on him.

She followed his guidance, unable to think of anything but the burning desire he had coaxed to life with his clever fingers. Somewhere along the way, she untied her skirts and let them fall to the ground. It didn't seem that anyone had swept or cleaned the room in a long while, but that didn't cross her mind. It could be mud and shit for all she cared, her thoughts were entirely focused on Jon.

She sank down, letting him fill her to the hilt. Her eyes shut tightly as she gripped his shoulders, adjusting the both of them as she shifted into a better position. The movement of her hips was tantalizing and slow, feeling out this new position before she increased the rhythm.

"We will need a bigger bed in the cottage." She murmured to him, tracing his neckline with her lips.

Jon let out a long, shaking breath as she slowly sank down onto his waiting length, the warm embrace of her feeling like home, even in this squalid little room. He wrapped his arms around Margaery as she settled onto his lap.

He tilted his face up to her and smiled. "I'll build us one. Absolutely massive, how does that sound?"

And perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to make it quite strong, as well. Their more passionate encounters had been quite vigorous, during times when they'd had little time or were simply ravenous for one another.

Leaning in, he kissed her throat, humming in pleasure as they began to rock together.

She felt complete whenever he was inside her, the pain and emptiness of her life disappeared in his embrace. He consumed her thoughts and heart, driving away any discomfort that she might have, even in this small room. When they moved together, the world seemed to be made of nothing but fire, burning away all others from existence, save for them.

Margaery grinned, kissing him deeply before answering, "It sounds perfect. A bed worthy for the Lord Commander." Though when they were alone together, he would only be Jon in her eyes. He was held to no oaths, save for the one he had made to her before they left.

Her body trembled, remembering the times that they had collapsed into bed together. Usually it had been when he returned from King's Landing from visiting the other holds. Their reunions and partings have been passionate in an effort to satisfy them for the long separation. There would be more of those, as he would need to be at the wall, but they would not nearly be as agonizing. He would always return to her.

She gasped against his ear, arching her back as rolled her hips tantalizingly against him, urging him deeper still within her.

Fire would be precisely the word he would use for his feelings for Margaery-- not just the welcoming, soothing warmth of the hearth, but passionate blazes that consumed everything around that was not them. And for a man who had spent nearly every day of his life cold, sometimes bitterly so, to know heat so intimately now made it a feeling he could never bear to part with.

Jon's mouth worked against hers before smiling. "And for his Lady," he completed. Perhaps they would never be able to be officially wed, but he had no doubt in his mind that Margaery was his and he hers, in every way that truly mattered.

She moved on him with a writhing, sinuous grace that made him shiver. As her heat rocked up and down his length, he buried his face into the crook of her neck, tasting and nipping at the smooth skin and feeling her pulse beneath his lips. "I love you so much," he rasped.

He had shifted her world, opening her eyes as well as her heart. She had never considered how all consuming love could be or how much she would come to crave it. Now that she had a taste of this life with Jon, she had no intention of ever letting it go. She would grasp it as firmly as she held Jon in her arms.

She grinned down at him, returning the kiss, only pulling away to murmur, "his lady love." She seized forward once again, crashing her lips against his. They may not be wed, but it mattered little in her mind. She was his in all ways, as he was hers. Perhaps she might grow concerned once there were children, but they would never be bastards in her eyes. They would have a name, even if it was one that she created.

She moaned breathlessly as he her hips increased the pace, losing herself in the tempest of emotion and desire that was consuming her. His words sent a shiver through her, causing her to gasp against his hair. "I love you. I love you with everything I am."

✖ bodyguard? lover? the lines are blurred, now.

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