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emsvegetables · 4 years

Note

okay but like i screamed when i saw your requests are open, ( after reading the pregnancy hcs ) if it's fine with u - you can totally not do this if you don't like it - may i request headcanons with the same boys you did with the pregnancy hcs but with their father-daughter/son relationship with them headcanons? i'm a sucker for those HAHA. thank you again if you ever consider, love ♡♡

“okay but like i screamed when i saw your requests are open, ( after reading the pregnancy hcs ) if it's fine with u - you can totally not do this if you don't like it - may i request headcanons with the same boys you did with the pregnancy hcs but with their father-daughter/son relationship with them headcanons? i'm a sucker for those HAHA. thank you again if you ever consider, love ♡♡”

AHHH OFC!!!! hi @karasunology this is for you, you’re so sweet!!!!! hope you like these <33!!!! i’m not sure if i interpreted it correctly fifkfjrrj i rewrote this THREE TIMES FIEIDIFIF also i made the child a daughter haha hope that’s okay!!!

Oikawa:

* he’ll love his child SO much!!!!!!!!

* anyway he’s REALLY excited for little (Y/N) to come out!!!!!!!

* he’s with you throughout the entire birth process, and he tries his best not to cry when you curse him and say that you’re never having a baby with him again.

* AHAHAHAHA ITS SO PAINFUL BUT HE DOESN’T KNOW THAT LMAO

* and when she pops out of the womb?

* he is CRYING and calling Iwaizumi to tell him how cute she looks.

* “IWA-CHAN!!!!! SHE’S SO CUTE AND—“

* Iwaizumi hangs up on him LOL

* but afterwards he’s softly running his fingers through your hair after it’s all over, and telling you that he loves you.

* but anyways the Seijoh third years come to visit little (Y/N) every weekend and they always bring so much things for her to play with!!!!

* but it’s obvious Iwaizumi is little (Y/N)’s favourite uncle LOL

* she looks like she LIKES Iwaizumi more than Oikawa AHAHAH

* she’ll crawl to him and always reach for him and he’ll happily hug her!!! Oikawa is SO jealous lmaoooo

* but when little (Y/N) can start walking and talking, MAN.

* Oikawa is instantly teaching her how to play volleyball!!!!

* he’s teaching her how to set, and how to receive balls!!!

* her uncles come over to play with her every weekend and you find it really cute, when you poke your head out into the backyard and see four grown men cooing over your little girl!!!!

* but she grows up to love spiking more thanks to her uncle Iwaizumi!!!!!!

* Oikawa’s VERY salty about that LMAOOO but he’ll set to her all the time to practice!!!

* he and her are the total power team!!!

* he’ll go to ALL her games and he’ll happily point her out to you when you’re looking for her!

* and when she gets a spike in??

* “YOU GO GIRL!!!! MAKE YOUR FATHER PROUD!!!!”

* he’s also a super supportive father!!!!

* but he’ll draw a line at relationships AHAHA

* he’ll know how disgusting high school boys are (CONSIDERING HOW HE WAS AHAH) and he’ll gather the Seijoh third years and scare that boy away.

* Matsukawa is the scariest bc he actually is really intimidating HAH.

* and Hanamaki manages to scare them away bc he threatens MURDER AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

* but anyway your daughter has to BEG him to stop after he scares the seventh boy away.

* you just laugh as he tries to make excuses to what he did.

Kuroo:

* aw this man!!!!!!

* i’ve said before in a previous hc, i THINK his parents had some sorta tension between them and hence he had to live with his grandparents.

* so growing up, he never really had active parents in his life!!! so he’s promising himself that he’s going to treat you and little (Y/N) right.

* and when little (Y/N) comes out of the womb!!!!! he’s SO SO SO happy, and he’s smiling so widely and tears are rolling down his cheeks.

* he’s praising you on how well you did during the entire process, and he’s kissing your forehead and saying how proud he is of you.

* but he’s SO SO SO HAPPY!!!! and he’s immediately telling Kenma and the third gym squad!!!!!!

* okay but Kenma occasionally pops over to your house every few weeks to give little (Y/N) toys and stuff, and you have to tell him to STOP bc he’s spending so much money!!!!!

* ZRIEOTKGK

* but Bokuto, Akaashi and Tsukishima also come over to play with little (Y/N)!!!!

* it’s obvious her favourite is Akaashi, bc he’s the most gentle with her, and she’s always crawling up to him and hitting his thighs.

* Bokuto always goes into emo mode whenever she choose Akaashi over him LOL

* anyway.

* he’s teaching little (Y/N) volleyball when she can stand up and walk!!!

* and he’s such a big influence on her life that she actually ASPIRES to be a middle blocker just like him!

* he always brings you to all her games when the both of you can make it, and occasionally the third gym squad will make an appearance too!!!!

* when she blocks the other team????

* there’s two people screaming on the second floor.

* “THATS MY DAUGHTER!!!”-kuroo

* “WOOOO GOOOO LITTLE (Y/N)!!!”-bokuto

* Akaashi and Tsukishima just exchange looks like: wtf is wrong with them.

* he’s also a really, really supportive father.

* he’s so close to her, and he really understands her so well, just like how he understands you.

* he’ll let her talk to him about anything, but he also knows when to give her space to work out her problems when she needs to!!!

* overall super supportive.

* REALLY GREAT FATHER.

* though he gets a TAD protective when little (Y/N) starts to talk about her boyfriend to the both of you.

* but he trusts her!!!! so it’s all good!!!!!

Kenma:

* ahhh!!! he’s actually prepared for little (Y/N) to come out.

* like.

* he’s already bought all the stuff needed for babies, and he’s already put it in the room.

* and when your water breaks??? he’s bringing you to the hospital, with a very calm face, because he’s researched on what to do and he made sure to get the BEST doctor on your case!

* and when little (Y/N) comes out?

* he’s so proud, and you see this lone tear slide down his cheek, and he’s pressing a soft kiss onto her forehead, before pressing one to your lips, and telling you that he loves you so much.

* anyway he immediately tells Hinata what happened, and after Hinata jokes about little (Y/N) not being named after him, he congratulates the both of you through the speaker!!

* Kuroo finds out a few minutes later, after Hinata hangs up and Kenma texts him, and he also congratulates you happily, and berates Kenma over not telling him first AHAHAH

* N E WAYS

* Kenma. is literally and figuratively A SUGAR DADDY TO LITTLE (Y/N).

* this guy???

* a new toy shows up in a parcel outside the house EVERY day, and you have to PLEAD him to stop buying little (Y/N) presents when the drawers start to overflow AHAHA

* Kenma merely shrugs, and gets another cupboard built in the room to store more toys, and shoots a small smile at you when you sigh.

* “i have money to spare, babe.”

* “WE HAVE TOO MUCH TOYS, KO.”

* tbh he won’t teach volleyball to (Y/N), bc he’s lazy AHAHA

* BUT when she inevitably picks it up thanks to her uncles Kuroo and Hinata, he’s cursing them silently in his head when your daughter asks him to play with her.

* he will not be able to refuse her and he’ll actually play with her until SHE’S tired, bc he loves her so much!!!!

* she ends up wanting to be a setter, and he teaches her all his hacks and techniques to get out of practice if she’s tired AHAHA

* he’ll try his best to make it to all her games, and he won’t shout whenever she scores, but instead grip your hands really tightly and mumble a cheer under his breath.

* he’s a really chill dad, tbh.

* like, he’ll never scold your daughter if she’s in the wrong.

* all the discipline is up to you AHAHAH

* he also doesn’t get worked up over her having her boyfriend over for dinner, and instead asks the boy what games he plays.

* the protectiveness gets handed over to uncle Kuroo!!!!!!! who’s instantly firing a barrage of questions at the poor boy.

* “stop it, Kuro.”

* “BUT KENMA, this boy is trying to make his moves on little (Y/N)!!!!”

Sugawara:

* aw HES SUCH A SWEET GUY.

* he’s so PUMPED for little (Y/N)’s delivery.

* and when your little baby pops out???

* this guy is CRYING.

* tears are rolling down his cheeks and he’s SMILING so much as he holds little (Y/N) in his arms.

* he’s SO happy, and he’s telling you that straight to your face as you lie back down on the hospital bed.

* he’s pressing a soft kiss on your cheek before he’s texting the Karasuno group chat WIDIFIFIR

* they’re all so happy!!! and they swarm into the hospital like the maniacs they are to see little (Y/N).

* but when your baby can walk and talk???

* you BET that the entire team is coming to your house EVERY weekend to play volleyball with her.

* little (Y/N) ends up loving Nishinoya the most, and he excitedly teaches her the ROLLING THUNDER move, but Sugawara scolds him when she rolls wrongly and ends up with a gash on her cheeks.

* Nishinoya is BANNED from returning to your house AHAHA KDG

* okay she ends up being a libero like her favourite uncle!!

* and whenever she has a match?

* the ENTIRE team is going there to cheer her on.

* i’m not even lying.

* she’ll save a ball, and all her middle-aged uncles start screaming and cheering, causing her to blush in embarrassment.

* Sugawara and Daichi have to calm them down AHAHAHAH.

* but when she undergoes changes and starts getting male attention???

* man Tanaka and Nishinoya are NOT going to let that happen.

* they’ll be protecting her like how they protected Shimizu AHAHA

* but the most scariest is HER DAD, SUGAWARA KOSHI.

* he’ll smile widely at the boy who your daughter brings home, and that smile is the scariest you’ve seen on his face.

* AHAHAH the poor boy’s TERRIFIED of Sugawara LMAO

Asahi:

* OH!!! this pure, sweet man.

* he’s so SHOCKED when your water breaks.

* he’ll be running around the house and freaking out AHAHA and you have to call the ambulance yourself LOL

* and when little (Y/N) pops out????

* he’s CRYING.

* he’s SOBBING.

* he’s SHAKING.

* he’s so scared!!!! what if your baby doesn’t like him?????

* he’s instantly texting the third years at Karasuno for help LOL

* but they tell him to chill and just hold the baby in his arms!!!

* and he starts to cry again AHAHAH

* but anyway your baby will have the CRAZIEST UNCLES.

* literally your baby is showered with LOVE AND AFFECTION by the entire Karasuno team!!!!!!

* your baby’s favourite is Daichi!!! bc he’s the gentlest with her, and she’ll always wiggle out of Asahi’s arms to go to Daichi.

* ANY WAY

* she ends up being a wing spiker like her father!!!!!

* Asahi’s so proud he starts to cry AGAIN.

* but whenever she has a match????

* the entire team is going AHAHAH

* Nishinoya and Tanaka ARE SCREAMING when she gets a spike in.

* Asahi will just tear up bc he’s so PROUD.

* oh and Asahi’s the MOST SUPPORTIVE DAD.

* he’s always letting her do whatever she wants!!!!!

* and he supports everything that she does!!!!!

* and when she brings a boyfriend home???

* tbh he’s totally fine with that, bc his baby is all grown up, after all.

* but the boy’s scared bc of Asahi’s LOOKS AHAHAHAHAHAH

* your daughter has to tell him to smile more bc her boyfriend is scared of her father’s face AHAHAHAHAH

JRRKFKFK HI IM SO SORRY IF THIS ISNT WHAT YOU WANTED FIRIFIFI i tried my best to write this!!! i hope it’s okay!!!!!!!!

#oikawa x reader #kuroo x reader #kenma x reader #sugawara x reader #asahi x reader #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kenma kozume x reader #sugawara koshi x reader #haikyuu headcanon #haikyuu hc #haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines

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ambitionsource · 3 years

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hi can we get some zaley friendship headcanons whenever you're free? ☺️

im not the best at headcanons just bc of the way my brain functions but im gonna do my best for you, sunny my friend. let’s go zay and riley let’s go!

thrift shop buddies!! one of the most common ways that they hang out is definitely going thrifting. considering they arguably have the two most eclectic wardrobes on the show, this makes sense. esp i fully believe they’re the perfect people to thrift shop with where they encourage each other to try on everything, even if it seems outlandish (and sometimes even more in those moments). that’s the only way to really get some good finds! and i feel like, beyond S1, when they wear items for performances in the show that are clearly unique / seem thrifted, it’s more than 50% likely the other helped them pick it out at some point

on this note, i think that they both have really good senses of what looks good on the other bc they spend this time together, probably better than anyone else (yes, including their significant others. not that that’s hard, since both of their significant others have notoriously bland fashion). like even when theyre not out together i can totally imagine them seeing something and being like “oh this is so riley / zay” and getting it for each other. they know each other’s sizes and have like an ongoing swap credit system gfJSKHJDLFH

riley and zay usually run performance by the other person before they perform them for the class / at an audition. like they find a specific time (usually during breakout sessions during class) to get in front of the other person and run them through their concept + do a run-through for them. they just really appreciate the other’s perspective, especially since they tend to complement each other -- zay is able to identify places where riley could heighten things or add some flair or just like... assert her talent more lmao, whereas riley helps zay pull back on some of his more overwhelming instincts when necessary or find the moments to truly lean in emotionally rather than blowing us out of the water the whole time

if we could actually Watch the show, i guarantee 9/10 times when riley or zay is performing, we would cut to the other enjoying the performance. like theyre always bobbing their head along and truly feelin the other’s performances. excellent vibes luv!

i also think they harmonize well with each other, which is why its kind of a shame they dont do more performances together within the context of assignments (as for why, couldn’t tell you... it might just be a weird psychological thing of like i have These people i perform with when it matters and these who are just for fun... like maybe zay and riley tend to see each other as easygoing comfortable duet partners and thats why they try not to overdo putting pressure on it). but yeah they absolutely have days where they just hang out in one of the rehearsal studios and play around on the piano and try to find ways to harmonize on their favorite songs. this is some of the best singing riley ever does, bc its so low stakes and fun

i also think that honestly, zay really helps strengthen riley’s vocals over the time they’re friends -- especially early on. riley is someone with good raw talent but she’s never thought about honing it seriously prior to joining aaa, whereas zay has been on a career mindset since he was little. so he is good at teaching her like small technique things or helping her expand her range and she really values that esp bc hes so selfless about giving it, but it doesnt come off naggy or unnecessary like maya’s advice often does

sometimes it can be hard for them to find songs they both wanna sing though bc their music taste is so different. i think they have like three small categories where their favorites overlap -- select big names (sza, chloe x halle), jazz / old-time crooners (frank sinatra, nina simone, and the like), and select musical theater. but i think this is mainly on zay, bc he’s much more picky about music than riley who will give anything a listen without much nudging. as we know zay likes to pick on his friends’ music taste (like charlie and harry styles / 1d) and i don’t think riley would escape this affectionate teasing. they exchange song recs and riley gives him like her usual piano ballad-y sara bareilles tswift rachael yamagata energy and shes like oh yes, another piano ballad and hes like STOP!!! JUST LISTEEEENNNN GFSJKLHJFDSKLHKDLFH

that said though, they’re definitely go-to friends when it comes to like checking out a new local artist or coffeeshop open mic nights. this is probably a typical zay / riley / yindra outing

zay doesn’t spend a ton of time watching tv bc “he has better things to do with his time,” but riley and zay are definitely the type to watch a show together. like not always Together, but they’ll try to keep up with each other so that they can talk about it (and riley has to try really hard not to keep binging and get way ahead of zay). theyre good at this bc they can have really intense and opinionated conversations about it but in a way where its like safe and neither of them feel like theyre actually being judged / are stupid if they disagree (something thats not common for riley, and zay usually is trying to discuss media with super strong personalities who aren’t great at Debating).

in general, though, they tend to agree on favorite characters / relationships. for example, they both hate rachel berry -- which always gets maya and farkle extremely heated if they’re around. i can only imagine why...

they’re also definitely safe-space vent people for each other. they don’t use the privilege all that often bc i think both of them try to like keep their cool and not get hung up about things, but if they really just have to pop off about something they know they can go to the other person and they’ll actually Listen and keep it under wraps rather than either spilling it to everyone else and/or immediately trying to problem solve rather than just listening to the Emotions. and it’s helpful bc for the most part, their friends don’t actually really overlap that much, so they don’t really like harbor the emotions the other person unloads on them or let it affect their dynamics with other people? like riley can talk about dasher and zay can talk about yingel without it having any ripple consequences bc theyre different circles.

for example, i can totally see riley talking to zay about how she feels like -- at first -- asher doesn’t really like her and won’t really let her in and like he doesn’t want her to join the friend group (even tho that isn’t really true). like she can’t talk to dylan about it bc she’s not going to put him in that position and she’s not foolish enough to think that’s a good idea, she can’t talk to lucas about it bc he like doesn’t get stuff like that gFJKHGLFJSDLH and also he has such a set impression of asher it would be hard for him to understand it from her perspective. zay has none of that, so hes a good person to listen to her nerves about it.

the only times this gets kind of complicated / janky is in the midst of zay x charlie stuff where riley is kind of unintentionally (or, sometimes, intentionally) in the middle. like, zay trusts her not to go telling charlie what he says about him, but he knows they’re good friends too, and its an awkward position to put her in. but still, i think when zay is really hurt or frustrated he’ll snap sometimes and just vent out all his anger about charlie to riley in one foul swoop, and she’ll just absorb it like a sponge without judgment and then not bring it up again. but you can also see little ways where this puts pressure on their friendship, like how when he was drunk in 304 zay expressed resentment towards the fact that riley also talks to charlie and sometimes he feels like she puts him first, even though that isn’t true. it’s just..... a very very complicated (and interesting, if emotional) situation with that trio.

that being said, when things are Good, i think that zay feels comfortable talking about his significant others (including charlie) with riley. he doesn’t really get too Detailed about anything personal or anything, but they definitely discussed charlie in s2 in the small window of time where riley knew and zc wasn’t actively imploding LMAO. on the flip side, riley doesn’t really talk to zay about her relationships, but only bc her relationship is lucas GJFSKLJHLKDJHFLDSH. like anyone else she’d be like okay sure this is fine but she knows zay finds lucas annoying 65% of the time and talking about him in a romantic context grosses him out so she respects that LMAOOOO. hysterical

in general, if they’re gonna hang out, they usually go to either a local coffee shop they like (like svorskis) or each other’s houses. its kind of a relief to have a person they can just take anywhere and have around their parents with no trouble at all, considering both of them are used to having a boyfriend who cant be seen in their house (for different reasons). and theyre comfortable enough that like i think when they hang out at their houses, they just spread out in the living area of both bc theyre not hiding anything, its like very lowkey and comfortable

that being said, riley doesnt spend much time in zay’s usual studio at school. most people don’t, its a place zay now likes to be alone (and it feels weird with someone else being there who isnt charlie)

as for how they come off to their families, the babineauxs love riley. jada has met her a couple of times and thinks she’s super sweet + zay could afford to learn a thing or two from her like how to chill the fuck out (cue zay going shut the fuck up). donna is excited that zay has another friend who isn’t batshit intense about stuff like maya / farkle, she figures yindra has the diva best friend role covered and zay needs more friends like nigel and riley to ground him. she’s right about this.

cory likes zay, but he also does have some prejudices from the teaching perspective about how zay doesn’t pay attention in class half the time and blows off his assignments -- but this isn’t partially because cory isn’t a great teacher and his assignments suck. so the feeling is mutual, tho zay gets along better with cory in a neutral, polite sense than say, asher and dylan, where it’s like guerilla psychological warfare. topanga has no opinion about zay bc riley doesn’t introduce her friends to her (wisely).

they’re still very common lunch buddies. essentially when riley isn’t eating with the techies (which is only when lucas is there usually) or bothering lucas in the booth once a week, she’s with zay (which usually also means nigel, yindra, and farkle, though not always)

ultimately, i think that when someone asks riley who her best friend is, her mind will always jump to zay first. not even because theyre necessarily the closest at any given time, but because he really was her first life raft at aaa and he extended that kindness to her in a moment where she was so used to being brushed aside, talked over, ridiculed -- and you don’t forget that. it stays with you. so when she thinks about her Best Friend, speed round answer, he will always come to mind first. i think she greatly admires his skillful balance of confidence and compassion, his sarcastic sense of humor, the way he gets so passionate about dance and music and how these elements come together, and his inarguable kindness that is at his core and so fundamental to everything he does (even when his more known reputation is a bit more barbed and witty).

on the flip side, i think riley came into zay’s life at the exact moment he needed it. we know he felt isolated in s1, and even though i think he thinks of nigel and yindra as his first-to-mind best friends, riley was a breath of fresh air who allowed him to be himself with someone who wasnt going to judge him on past decisions or impressions. just like he gave her the chance to define herself in his eyes with his extension of company on that first day, she does the same for him by not making assumptions about him and learning who he is on their terms. i think she’s also just a really great, measured system of support -- she’s not busting his balls or keeping him in check like yindra and nigel do (except when its really needed, like 304), but she isn’t as in awe / romanticized with him like charlie. i think he appreciates that he can go to her for an honest perspective, but she’ll take the care to deliver that honesty in a gentle way. it’s like, he’s tough enough to take a hit, but sometimes its nice to know you have someone who will be kind with you even then.

that’s what is at the core of their friendship overall. kindness.

-- Maggie

#amarakaran #ask and you shall receive #zay x riley #riley matthews #zay babineaux #aaa supplementaries #love them... i do

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dialux · 4 years

Text

oh, how far you are from home

You know that I’ve got some nice inspiration for this, lmaoooo. Quick updates ftw!

Chapter 2: In which they reach Rivendell (as in canon), Boromir is irritating (as in canon), the Council convenes (as in canon), and Sansa finally has a breakdown (as not in canon)!

...

Uninteresting is definitely not what he’d call it.

A sole man traveling the land is given little notice and a wide berth; a man traveling with his daughter- even if she’s young enough to have the coltish awkwardness of youth, Eru above- seems to draw more attention than Boromir’s entirely comfortable with.

Especially when he doesn’t have a horse, and cannot ride away quickly enough from them.

They stop at a few inns- more for Sansa’s comfort than his own- until she asks him if there’s no quicker path to Rivendell.

“It cuts through the forest,” Boromir tells her.

She fingers a strand of hair and lifts her chin to meet his gaze. “I’d rather return home,” says Sansa. “A few weeks in the forest would be worth it to go home quicker.”

“A forest is not anywhere near so comfortable as an inn,” Boromir says.

“No,” says Sansa. “But if lacking for that comfort is the price to be paid, I’ll pay it, my lord. I promise you’ll hear no complaints from my mouth.”

The next day, they cut into the forest instead of staying on the beaten path.

Only later does Boromir suspect that she’s seen his discomfort in the inns and taken steps to alleviate it. But then, they’d spent the time in towns telling everyone to call her his daughter, and that had been another measure of salt on her still-raw wound.

Boromir hears enough to know her reluctance well; they sleep in the same room, and though Sansa is perfectly courteous and calm enough during the day, she spends her nights sobbing and twisting in her dreams, making tiny sounds in the base of her throat that tear at Boromir and leave him sleepless on the cold ground.

No child should know that kind of pain.

She’s told him a little more of where she comes, and he’s stymied by it all. A kingdom as large as she speaks of should definitely be one he knows, but he’s never even heard whispers of it. Sansa doesn’t look addled, but she’s just lost her father; perhaps the grief has knocked something loose in her. Whatever it is, hopefully the elves will have a cure.

Even if they don’t, she will be safe there. No king as evil as this Joffrey would be allowed within Elrond’s domain.

If ever he has the chance to meet him...

Well.

Boromir is not a truly violent man. He wields his sword well- nay, better than well- but his captains and officers have never had to discipline him about overmuch enthusiasm in his actions either, as certain others have required.

And yet, if Boromir meets Joffrey, he will not hesitate to strangle the king until his face turns blue.

For all that she’s suffered, Sansa has remained a kind girl; unfailing in her kindnesses, and no matter how hard he pushes to reach Rivendell, she continues without protest. It must be difficult for her, for Boromir himself is exhausted by the time they rest- but she only retreats into herself and keeps walking.

A few days in, he hears her saying- chanting- something under her breath. It takes all his concentration to catch it, and when he does, something like shame rattles him: Sansa keeps whispering the names to her family, holding them close, like Boromir can remember he had done on his first campaign away from Minas Tirith.

“Tell me about them,” says Boromir finally, unable to take the silence between them. Sansa jerks, turning to look at him, and Boromir smiles a little, unbidden, at her astonishment. “You say I look like your- father. But you look nothing like me.”

“I take after my mother,” says Sansa slowly, jaw flexing as if disused.

But she continues, and soon the words are coming easily, and she looks far more cheerful than she’d been just a few hours earlier.

She’s a truly lovely girl in that sense- easy to get along with, intelligent, and funny when prodded at. Boromir laughs aloud for the first time since his dream of Isildur’s bane when she tells him about her brothers’ prank in their family’s crypts. Sansa’s eyes sparkle at that, and she keeps him supplied with such tales for long enough that Boromir calls for an early halt and collapses, sides aching with laughter.

“I’d like to meet them, I think,” he says, watching her duck her head, pleased. “All your brothers- and your sister- ah! Such rascals. Your parents must have been glad for you. A little peace in their lives.”

“What of you, Lord Boromir?” asks Sansa, gnawing on her lip. “Were your parents- did you make them worry?”

“I’ve only a brother,” says Boromir. He waves a hand. “He’s far the better child than I, though my father’s always found steel a better pursuit for his sons than books. My mother passed when Faramir was very young; if she’d lived, she might have allowed him to become a scholar. And worried more about me, of course.”

Sansa smiles, but it’s pale and shadowed. “I didn’t know your mother had-” she shakes her head. “My apologies, I-”

“It was a long time ago,” says Boromir firmly, and she falls silent, watching him with those blue eyes. They see everything, which Boromir hadn’t entirely expected from a girl of her age. But then again, few enough girls would have experienced as much as Sansa has. He finds his mouth opening, explaining things he has never wished to explain before. “The pain never leaves you, but it lessens. Like any wound: it will ache on rainy nights, or when you wish them most beside you. But there is a life beyond death, Lady Sansa.”

Her chin wobbles. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“You are young. I was younger then than you are now- but old enough to know that my Ama would never return, and of an age to miss her terribly.” He clasps her shoulder and draws her into a loose embrace, because she looks miserable enough to warrant it, and promises, quietly, fiercely: “It will get better.”

...

They reach Rivendell soon enough- or at least Boromir doesn’t look irritated at any delays- and Sansa feels the difference when they enter the land.

“Yes,” says Boromir grimly, when he sees her eyes widen. “Elven magic. Be wary of them, Lady Sansa; they are not all as they appear, and can use words as prettily as any courtier.”

“What are elves?”

“Elves,” says Boromir, flat as unleavened bread. “The- the Immortal Ones. The first children of Eru.” Sansa shakes her head, still uncomprehending, and Boromir shakes his in response, as if in disbelief. “Your parents have kept you protected over-well.”

Have they?

Sansa nods, but doesn’t say anything else; she has a feeling it’s more complicated than Boromir is making it out.

“Anyhow. Keep your wits about you when speaking to them, lass. They are long-lived, and do not see the world as we do.”

“You don’t like them,” murmurs Sansa.

Boromir’s eyes cut to her. “They’ve left it to Gondor to defend against the south,” he says grimly. “Against the orcs and the darkness that lies there, there has been only one shield for the rest of the world, and that has been Gondor. Gondorian blood and Gondorian lives. But of course- elven lives matter more than men’s, and we must not quail from bitter truths.”

“But you’re still going to their home.”

“I had a dream.” Boromir tilts his head, staring into the distance. “The Stewards of old were prophets, and we have learned not to ignore such omens. When both Faramir and I dreamt of the same thing, we knew one of us had to come.” His face tightens, minutely. “I will get my answers from them, even if I must throttle one out of them.”

“I do not think throttling them will make them more likely to speak,” says Sansa, picking at the stitching on the side of her gown. She looks up through her lashes, but the tense anger on Boromir’s face doesn’t soften, and she continues, holding out a hand to the very air that feels golden and soft. “It feels beautiful, though.”

“Beautiful does not mean good,” Boromir says shortly.

Sansa remembers Joffrey and Cersei- how coldly, how cruelly they had decided to take her father’s head. She should have trusted Arya. She should have trusted her father. She should have learned her lessons already.

It’s fine, she reminds herself. I have Lord Boromir to warn me.

It’ll be enough. It will have to be enough.

And hopefully this Lord Elrond will have the answers she’s looking for. Sansa can only hope that Boromir doesn’t know his geography- which is looking more and more unlikely as he tells her who he and his family are- or that Elrond knows something she does not. Otherwise, Sansa is lost: somehow, she is somewhere else, as in the stories of the fae. Only there is no fairy queen’s crown that she can steal to escape, and Sansa is all alone, is completely dependent on others.

Every time Boromir says something unthinkingly, assuming she’ll know, the knot in her belly twists deeper.

Still lost in thought, she almost flinches when Boromir’s hand comes down on her shoulder, and it’s only because of her trust in him that she doesn’t recoil when the elves spill out of- somewhere.

“Hail Boromir, son of Denethor,” says one of the- elves, it must be; for he is beautiful beyond imagining, with long, loose hair and eyes brighter than the stars, and ears that lengthen into sharp points at the very top. “Imladris welcomes you and your companion.”

“You have both mine and my ward’s gratitude,” says Boromir coolly, hand flexing on her shoulder before he lets go. “I’ve important matters to speak of with Lord Elrond.”

“The Lord Elrond is in private meeting with Mithrandir. Shall you partake in refreshment until then?”

“Very well,” says Boromir, and places a hand flat on her shoulder-blade, and propels her up the stairs without hesitance.

Sansa wants-

She wants time.

One after another, the things are happening too quickly. And she cannot let herself think about any one thing too closely lest she miss what is going on in front of her.

Do what’s most important, she thinks. Quickly, now, Sansa; you are the nimble one. If you are to be queen, you must be able to master things more difficult than this.

Little matter that she’ll likely never be a queen. Sansa was born to be one; she was raised to be one; it doesn’t matter if she has a crown on her brow or not.

So she listens, carefully, to what the steward is telling them. She doesn’t speak much, but when they enter what is- ostensibly- her room and Boromir turns to leave, Sansa cannot keep silent.

“Lord Boromir,” she calls, and he pauses, and she nearly shrinks into herself. “I- that is- is it possible to ask for a room near mine?”

Boromir turns and approaches her. Sansa lifts her gaze to his and has to fight not to gasp at the dearness of those features.

“Do you remember who I am, Lady Sansa?” he asks quietly.

“Y-yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Lord Boromir,” says Sansa, ruthlessly battling the tears down. She knows this, down deep in her heart. This man is not her father, no matter how much she might wish him to be. “Son of Gondor’s steward, Denethor.”

“I am not your father,” says Boromir, and it isn’t half cruel.

But you called me your ward!

A ward is no simple thing to name someone; it is an honor, done between the closest of friends, family, or to maintain relations between noble houses. Boromir hasn’t known her for very long at all. He isn’t gaining anything by naming her his, but he’s placed her under his protection anyhow.

Unless such practices are different in this land.

The dread of that thought cuts through the hurt, enough that she can answer.

“I know that, my lord,” Sansa replies. “But this is all so- new. And different. I simply wanted... I thought it would be more comforting to have someone I knew around.”

The shadows in Boromir’s eyes lighten, just a little. “Yes, I can understand that,” he says, and steps away. “I shall try, my lady. Ready yourself; once refreshed, we shall speak to Lord Elrond.”

Sansa nods, clenching her jaw to keep from saying anything more. It’s only after he’s gone and she’s in the room alone that Sansa lets herself think.

There are elves here, and magic she does not understand. The stories that her parents had sung to her mention them, sometimes, but not tales such as these- of immortal beings, with pointed ears and skin so bright as to be luminous.

Tales that she does not know, and people she does not trust.

Save for Boromir.

For now, Sansa tells herself, looking around the small, airy room. But I loved Cersei so well, and Joffrey even sweeter than that, and both of them repaid that with murder.

Boromir bears my father’s face, but he is not my father.

In that sense, his reminder had not been anything but a reminder; the truth, bitter though it was.

And Boromir had told her, hadn’t he: Sweet truths can be told often and well. But the mark of a good man is one who does not flinch from even the darkest and bitterest of truths- even in the darkest and bitterest of times. Unflinching we must be, if ever we wish to rule any men; and we must never lie to ourselves, even if we let the rest of the world repeat those lies.

They had been lying on grass, watching the stars, weary after long hours of trekking- and he’d said it half-asleep; Sansa had learned, over the weeks, that Boromir did not speak well unless he felt it necessary, or he felt that none would pay attention to his words. But his voice more than the words had softened her, soothed that little hollow in her chest that had felt brimming with tears.

There shall never be someone so stalwart in your defense as your own memory, he’d said, and then Sansa had fallen asleep, and could remember nothing more of any of it.

Sansa surrenders to the ministrations of an elf, who shows her a gown and how to clasp it about her shoulders, then the private bath they’ve drawn for Sansa. But then she leaves, and Sansa allows herself a moment to press her forehead against the soft wood of the mantel, lets the weariness and terror swamp over her for a long moment.

She wants her mother. She wants her mother to hold her close and promise her safety, and she wants Robb to be there beside her, warm and laughing, and she wants her father, she wants Ned Stark, who would hug her easier than Boromir, who laughed less but did not stoop as much, who would tell her stories when the night turned dark, who was her father.

“One step in front of another,” she murmurs to herself.

The voice- despite how quietly she’d said it- is too loud in the silence of the bathchamber, and echoes around the stone. It gives her courage enough to slip out of the gown and into the water, which is hot and turns her skin pink.

Remember your family, she thinks, and closes her eyes, leans into the steamy warmth. You owe them that much.

...

Boromir shaves his face and washes the grime from his hair and face, though he doesn’t dare enter the full bathtub the elves offer him.

If there is time after meeting with Elrond- both for his own dream and for Sansa’s matter- then he shall relax into it. But he feels the prickling of their condescension and the distant, sun-hot rage of it still, and anger has always sharpened Boromir’s mind into something far more intelligent than when calm.

It slows the world down for him; it speeds his reactions up to others.

Better to keep himself off-balance for the length of time that it takes to finish this conversation, and then to shut himself up for the night. He’ll need the rest if he’s to be ready for whatever the morrow brings.

But he feels more human, too, with the crusted mud flaked off and the itches of too long in one set of clothes diminished. And with that comfort comes the guilt: he’d been harsh with Sansa, far harsher than warranted. A reminder might well have been necessary, but the method of the reminder had not needed to be like that.

So he breathes in, sharply, when he knocks on her door, the words heavy on his tongue.

Only to stutter to a halt when he sees Sansa.

She’s lovely, yes, but that’s not what makes him almost swallow his tongue; it’s the glow to her skin, and the height the elvish gown she wears lends her slender form, and the brilliance of her hair, freshly washed and braided over her shoulder. Even in the childish lines of her face, there is something there- an edge, a promise of something far beyond the simple girl he’d met in the woods.

Numenorean, thinks Boromir, but it isn’t that, not truly.

He has known many beautiful and regal women in his time. Perhaps it is just the gown, which is certainly royal in cut and cloth. Perhaps it reminds him of someone else- some queen of old- but Boromir would not know enough to name what he thinks now, not even with access to Gondor’s libraries. All he knows is that Sansa looks different- and there is something to that difference that makes worry clutch at his heart.

These are difficult times, Boromir reminds himself, offering Sansa an elbow. Look not for hope in people that cannot give it.

“My lady,” says Boromir slowly, pushing the rest of the thoughts out of his mind, “I owe you an apology.”

“An apology?”

“For my words earlier.”

“Ah.” Sansa smiles up at him, and though it is but a glimmer of what he’s seen of joy on her face, it is a fair enough attempt at one. “No apologies are necessary, my lord. It- was a timely reminder. One that I needed.”

“Sansa-”

“Unflinching we must be,” she says quietly, and Boromir falls silent, struck.

He hadn’t thought she was paying attention then. It had been an arduous trek that day, through bogs and under an unseasonably hot sun; Boromir himself had been so tired that he’d been half-asleep, and any words he’d said had been only the teachings of his own youth drummed into him over long years.

“Aye,” he says, patting her arm. “But we can speak the truth kindly. Remember that, too- cruelty is the last path to walk, and only when all others have been exhausted, though it may be easier and simpler. I should have remembered that.” Boromir smiles wryly. “And so: my apologies.”

The smile she gives him larger this time, and brighter. “Accepted, then, my lord.”

“Hmm. Unflinching- that we must be, yes, but also: we must know our own minds, even when all say otherwise.” Boromir turns to Sansa. “When you go to speak to Lord Elrond, speak your mind, Sansa. Do not be afraid.”

She nods and straightens, a little, spine going stiff; despite her age, Sansa almost reaches his shoulder. Her head goes up, and her chin tilts back, and her eyes remain calm even when they leave her chambers for the rest of Rivendell.

The ages of queens has faded, Boromir reminds himself, once, and twice, and thrice- the third when Elrond comes upon them, and pales, seeing Sansa with eyes too wide and too old.

...

Do not be afraid, Sansa reminds herself. I am a Stark of Winterfell, and my blood is of the North.

But this elf-lord is frightening. He looks at her like she holds secrets he doesn’t understand, and she remembers how Boromir had looked at her upon seeing her in elven garments: stunned, and scared, and a little surprised, like he didn’t recognize her at all.

“I am Sansa of House Stark,” says Sansa, and sinks into a curtsy. She rises, and looks at Elrond, and lets herself smile at him, gracious as any queen. “You have my gratitude for your hospitality.”

Elrond nods at her gravely. “We are glad to have you here, Lady Sansa. Please- come. I believe we’ve much to speak of.”

Sansa sits at the wooden table he gestures to, and places her hands on the table, flat, wrists bent. Her head aches a little; she thinks she needs to sleep, and eat some food other than the things she and Boromir could forage on their travels, and then likely sleep some more. But she wants to meet her family first.

“Yes,” she says, focusing on that desire, letting it burn high in her chest. “My lord- I come from Winterfell. I wish to return there- I’d require nothing, I promise you, just a raven to there and then Robb will come. Or one of Robb’s men. But-”

“Peace,” says Elrond, holding up a hand. “Go slowly; where is this Winterfell?”

Sansa’s hands spasm, nails digging into the wood. She closes her eyes.

So. She is somewhere else, then. Sothoryos? But no, she suspects that this is beyond even that. How could she have gotten from King’s Landing to Sothoryos, anyhow?

“In the North,” she says quietly, but the hope has drained from her voice, audible even to Sansa. “Near the White Knife. Its walls are of grey stone and the direwolf is my family’s symbol.” She breathes in, shallow. “Tell me, have you heard of Robert Baratheon? Perhaps- the Targaryens? House Lannister? Ned Stark?”

Her voice breaks awfully on the last name, and Sansa averts her face at it, wishing Elrond would look somewhere other than her eyes. She knows his answer, even when he doesn’t speak. It’s all but confirmed when she looks up at him.

“No,” says Elrond.

“No,” echoes Sansa, shaking her head.

“Perhaps a book from my libraries can-”

“This is not a history to be written of,” Sansa flares. “It is my- it is my family’s life. What we have been born into. And I have seen your land’s maps. They are not my own.”

“Perhaps you were mistaken,” offers Boromir.

“I’m not,” says Sansa. She turns to Elrond. “You don’t know who I’m talking about, and Robert Baratheon is a king who overthrew another after three hundred years of that dynasty. My father is Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North- he stood by King Robert’s side for all those days of rebellion, and the Starks have held Winterfell for eight thousand years, and I am his eldest daughter, and I know what I speak of.”

She is standing. She is standing, and shouting at Lord Elrond, at Boromir- who has never been anything but kind to her. Sansa feels the flush of shame heat her cheeks. She turns away, staring out at the balcony and its gently swaying branches. She will not cry here. She will not.

“I believe you, Lady Sansa,” says Elrond, finally.

Boromir places a hand on her shoulder, and Sansa turns back to them.

“I know them,” she whispers.

“Yes,” says Elrond. “You do. I believe I know what you are- there are tales of you, or people like you, through history. Travelers that appear and disappear, without history or name unless offered some by people of our own world.”

“You know what I’m doing here?” Sansa asks, the hope swirling back up her so fast it almost leaves her dizzy.

“I’ve heard of others like you,” Elrond corrects. “Often, I’ve found that it’s because of a- trauma in your homeland. A healing is necessary before you can leave, and you shall stay here until that is achieved.”

Sansa doesn’t dare let her eyes flick to Boromir. She slumps into the chair instead. “What kind of a healing?”

“Did you bring anything with you? Of importance?”

“No,” says Sansa. “Just- my shoes, which I didn’t keep, and the gown I came here in which is more rags than cloth. Nothing else.”

Elrond frowns. “That does not make sense.”

“The lass lost her father and disappeared from her land in one stroke, and it does not make sense?” asks Boromir.

“Twice before have I seen this. And both times, it simply needed the action of a material.” Elrond rises and returns with a book. “Yes- once, the person simply needed to be reunited with their material; in the second, the person needed to go to the ocean after reuniting with their material. But both people knew what they were missing as soon as they came here.”

“I don’t,” says Sansa, throat dry, the whiplash of the lost hope

Elrond nods. “Perhaps there are things I am missing, Lady Sansa. A few days- I shall be able to help you once some other matters are taken care of.”

Sansa blinks, only for Boromir to speak before she can: “I would have your word to watch over her.”

“And you shall have it.” Elrond inclines his head. “Lady Sansa- you are welcome here for as long or as short it takes for you to find whatever you need. If you wish to become a ward of Rivendell as opposed to Boromir’s, that can be arranged.”

“Watch over me,” says Sansa slowly. She looks at Boromir. “You are planning to leave?”

Boromir tilts his head backwards, looking at Elrond. Whatever is in his face, Sansa cannot understand it, but Elrond does; he leaves, with a sweeping bow and a swift stride.

“I’ve a responsibility to Gondor,” Boromir tells her. “I must return there, and quickly; there is a shadow that grows from the south. They have need of me.”

Anger prickles over her arms, like sunshine on a hot day. Boromir won’t even look at her before handing her over to someone else, like some- some unwanted laundry!

“You’ve a responsibility to me, as well.”

“I am a soldier,” says Boromir wearily. “What would you have me do? You are safe in Rivendell; Lord Elrond shall keep you safe until you can go home.”

“And if I would wish to be with my own people?” Sansa folds her arms about her waist, chilled to the bone. I am alone, always and always. I was right before; I should not have trusted him. Not even with a portion of my heart. Just because he looks like Father does not mean... “You have not asked. Just- assumed. I thought- I thought- my happiness mattered here. That I wasn’t just- another prisoner-price exacted to keep people well-behaved.”

Boromir’s face turns taut, like a chain pulled tight. “I am not your father,” he grates. “You are my ward, and-”

“-believe me, my lord,” says Sansa, drawing all her anger and all her fear and all her loss into a flowing, twisting shield about her body, “I know you are not my father.”

My father would not have done this to me.

She turns and flees, and does not let the tears fall until she is certain that Boromir has not chased after her.

...

Boromir sighs. He feels old and weary when he sees Sansa; she is so sprightly and so fervent, her angers high and her despairs deep. When have the years passed him by? When did he become this- this creature, so weighted by expectation and duty that the bright star of youth only tends to weary him with its untempered brilliance?

But he must go to the Council, now, and await the answers of both Gandalf the Grey and Elrond. Hopefully with less obfuscation than he’s experienced over the morning.

(When he walks in- there are elves there, and dwarves, and a single man: a Ranger, scruffy-faced and shadow-eyed.

Very well then, thinks Boromir, son of Denethor, heir to Steward of Gondor, and straightens his broad shoulders, takes up this burden unasked for and unwanted, unhesitatingly. If I am to represent Men here, I shall do that as well, and do the task properly.)

...

“Why do you weep?”

Sansa looks up from her hands to see an elf. A she-elf, this time, with dark hair and pale eyes, in a simple gown made of rich material, as everyone seems to wear here. Her throat hurts; she wants nothing more than to be left alone. What can this elf know of Sansa’s loss?

“I’m sorry,” she says, instead of any other words, and rises to her feet, brushes off the dirt from her skirts. "I did not mean to intrude.”

“It was no intrusion,” says the elf, stepping forwards and putting a finger under Sansa’s chin, lifting it to her gaze. “But when young women weep in my garden- it would be remiss of me not to ask why.”

Sansa looks away. “I cannot,” she says, and it wrenches at something deep, deep inside of her. “I cannot go home.”

The elf seats herself next to Sansa and pats the stone, waiting patiently until Sansa sits down again. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she says softly.

“Have you ever known pain like it before?” Sansa asks. She looks up, up, up: to the sky, scudded with white clouds and as beautiful as on the day of her father’s death. “I did not wish to come here. I have lost- everything, now; my father, my mother, my brothers and my sister. My sister- I don’t even know where she is! She ought to have been with me, and then she wasn’t, and now I don’t- I won’t- ever see them again.”

“Is that so? Has my father told you that?”

“Lord Elrond is your father?”

“Yes.”

“No,” admits Sansa. “But he has said that he has never seen anything like me here before. That with the others he’s seen, a healing was necessary, and an object to take them back; but I’ve nothing that I brought with me.”

“A healing,” says the elf thoughtfully. “Are you a healer, back in your home?”

“I am a lady,” says Sansa.

“And a lady cannot be a healer?” The elf seems amused. “Tell that to Lady Galadriel of Lorien, or Luthien of old. And anyhow, healing takes many forms; as many forms as a wound can take. Wounds of flesh, or the heart, or the soul; wounds of a nation, of a family, of yourself. Take heart, little lady. Keep faith.” She turns, staring at the sky herself, and her long hair stirs in a wind that does not touch Sansa at all. “And remember: when all looks darkest, there shall be a dawn.”

“And if there isn’t a dawn after all? If it only gets darker, and darker, and darker still-”

“-then,” says the elf, gentle as a falling leaf, “it is not yet the darkest times yet, and there shall be a dawn to come.”

She rises and helps Sansa up, too, and smiles, plucking a leaf out of her hair. Sansa doesn’t recognize it; the leaf is narrow, with little golden veins that illuminate it from within.

“These are dangerous times,” says the elf. “Dark times. I regret that you had to come now, when you are likely to see the worst of us.”

Sansa bows her head. “Dark times,” she echoes, slowly. “Why?”

“There is to be a Council,” says the elf. “One where the future of Middle-Earth shall be decided; attended by dwarves and elves and men alike. I believe your foster father is there now.”

Foster, Sansa reminds herself fiercely. Not father.

“It sounds- important.”

“And so it is. Do you wish to see?”

I want to sleep. I want to be held by my mother. I want-

But her desires have not mattered since leaving Winterfell. Not since Lady died. She has watched her father die and her sister disappear; she has watched her world be made anew. I must choose between comfort and curiosity, thinks Sansa, and closes her eyes, and opens them, and lets the part of her that still wants to weep shrink and shrivel within her chest.

“Yes,” she says, and takes the elf’s hand.

...

The dread that curls over Boromir’s heart is nothing new. He has known it well; he has lain beside it, and fed it, and tended to it with the grim surety of a man who knows his actions are necessary. Such fear keeps men’s minds sharp and so has Boromir let it hone his own. But here do five stand: men and wizards and elves and dwarves alike, and of them all Boromir does not see the fear that sings in his own heart.

Only with true fear can a soldier know true courage.

The prickling in his mind, the weight across his lungs- he steps forwards, lets it carry him to the forefront of the rest of the Council, and only then does he speak.

“If this is, indeed, the will of the Council-” he breathes, in, out, watches the rest of them, “-then Gondor will see it done.”

“No,” he hears, through a small bush, and amid the clatter of other halflings- Valar, but they’re numerous; are they dividing before his eyes?- a pale, red-haired shadow lunges forwards and seizes him around the wrist.

“Sansa,” says Boromir, startled.

She glares back at him. “Mordor,” she bites out. “An evil ring- you cannot.”

“Someone must,” he says quietly. “There is no other. What are you-”

“Arwen,” says Elrond, exasperated, and a tall, black-haired woman steps out of the shadows from which Sansa had done just a few moments earlier. “I believed this to be a private Council.”

“Private indeed,” says Arwen, arching an eyebrow. “Nigh on twenty members of three races, with all of Imladris knowing what the topic of conversation is on.”

“She is a child.”

“Whose only link to this world has just volunteered for the most dangerous quest in all of Arda. She deserved to hear of it.”

“And I would have told her,” says Boromir. “Just-”

“-after the decision,” finishes Sansa tremulously. She shakes her head. “You cannot go. You must not go. You said it yourself- your people need you!”

“I can best serve them by delivering this ring.”

“I know what happens to men that walk into evil lairs,” whispers Sansa. “Please, my lord, please- that is not a fate I would wish on Joffrey himself, much less you!”

Boromir slowly extracts his wrist from her death grip. Places it on her shoulder. “I shall go,” he tells her, and watches Sansa’s face crumple in on itself like paper on flame. “I shall try to return, Lady Sansa. Until then, you shall be a ward of Lord Elrond- and safe, in Rivendell.”

Sansa backs away rapidly, pale as death; her gaze is on his face, but she is not seeing him. Boromir knows what she sees instead: her father. Her father’s execution, and the pain of everything that came after. He curses his features, holding out a hand to her, and Sansa shakes her head once, tears standing in her eyes like ground diamonds.

“I saw my father’s death once,” she whispers. “And I’ll see it again, and again, and again-”

She cries out and turns and, dodging those that try to capture her, flees. Arwen follows after throwing him a dirty look- apparently Boromir is to blame for simply telling the truth- and when Boromir looks around, everyone’s staring at him suspiciously save for Elrond, who looks utterly resigned.

As everyone is leaving- with the Council disbanded- Boromir walks up to Elrond.

“Tell me she doesn’t have the gift of foresight,” he says lowly.

“I did not believe she did,” says Elrond, just as quietly. “But now... her face... Be careful on this quest, my lord. Be very careful.”

...

Sansa watches Boromir from afar the rest of the day- he spars for some time with one of the elves, and though he is not so fast or so strong as the elf, he holds his own well enough; Boromir’s a fair swordsman, better by far than Sansa’s own father, and knows his own abilities well. Sansa takes heart in it.

But this enemy is thick and swarming, with numbers enough to blot out the very sun.

And any man may be turned aside by an army, and there are things here that Sansa could never have imagined to exist in reality; dreams, the wildest tales of history, now breathing and ruining even the world of her songs with their cruelty. Things that are a thousand times larger than any man, no matter if that man is king of the Iron Throne or heir to the Steward of Gondor.

It had not been a prophecy that she spoke in the Council.

But it had been a fear, now her deepest fear; to see Boromir’s head again, only this time detached from the body and sightless, long hair hanging limp about slack features. To see the blood run, thick and red, and be unable to stop it.

“Sansa,” she hears, and looks up, and sees- Arwen, yes, that had been what Lord Elrond had called her.

Arwen, who kneels, and captures Sansa’s wrists, and draws her into an embrace so tight and warm and motherly that Sansa cries out, succumbing to the twisting grief in her chest.

“He’ll die,” she whispers.

“Have you seen it?”

“I don’t need to see something to know that he is a man alone among legends and myths,” cries Sansa. “A man bound by duty and honor- what nonsense! Why? Why? Why send me here, and bind me to him, only to lose him here, now- like this?”

“You haven’t seen anything,” cautions Arwen. “It is a- fear, yes, but-”

“I saw the way you looked at King Aragorn,” snaps Sansa. She feels the guilt of her words when Arwen pales a little at her words, but does not stop. “You don’t mean to tell me that you’re glad he’s going, too.”

Arwen shakes her head. “I am not. Only, I know that he shall not be turned from his path. My gladness does not mean that I’d keep him safe in Imladris; such a wish would turn him away from me, for I could not ask him to put my desires above his own.”

“His life matters as well,” Sansa tells her sharply. “And I am not like you- I’m not in love with Lord Boromir. All I know is that he has protected me, and cared for me, and treated me as well as my father ever treated me, and it would break my heart to see him dead in the same manner.”

“Oh, Sansa,” says Arwen sadly.

“Call it selfishness. Call it greed.” Sansa rises to her feet. “Call it what you wish. But I have seen what happens to good men in this world. And I’d not wish that death on Lord Boromir.”

Arwen looks at her, and her gaze is piercing; in that moment, for no longer than a heartbeat, moreso than Elrond’s. She is very beautiful, and likely has been alive for longer than the Red Keep has stood, and Sansa wants to shrink away, wants to cry at it.

She’s so tired.

“Sink your roots into the rock and face the wind,” murmurs Arwen, “though it blow away all your leaves.” She bows her head. “You asked me if I could imagine leaving my home behind, Sansa, and I answer you now: if I wish to live with Aragorn, I must. I must choose mortality. I must choose to never see my father or brothers, and fade into the fabric of the world for the sake of the few years I would get with him.”

“Highborn women do not get to stay with their families in my land,” Sansa tells her quietly. “Once wed, we go to our husband’s homes; to their castles, to their realms. And it is... I loved the idea, when I first left my home. I still loved it. I loved it, right until Joffrey took my father’s head.”

“It does-” Arwen wrinkles her nose, “-sound like something to be endured.”

Sansa laughs, a little, despite herself. “But my mother loved my father, and they built a home in the North that they could both love. Queen Naerys and Aemon the Dragonknight- they never even got a home or family together, but they loved each other from afar.”

“Now that sounds like a tragedy.”

“It’s the romance of it,” Sansa tells her. She sighs a little. “The tragedy is in the ending, but the beginning and the middle... that was lovely.” She sneaks a look at Arwen. “You know, if you asked my mother- or Naerys- if they’d exchange another lifetime’s worth of time for none with my father or Aemon- I’m fairly certain they wouldn’t take your offer.”

Arwen lifts a brow, and she looks amused again, eyes aglow. “And what about you?”

Sansa traces the ground with the toe of her boot. “It depends on the man I’d wed, doesn’t it? If it were Joffrey- likely always. But with someone else? Someone kinder and better, good and sweet and strong and handsome? I don’t know why I would.”

“Well.” A smile still plays about the corners of Arwen’s mouth. “Are you still afraid for Lord Boromir’s future?” She doesn’t wait to hear Sansa’s answer, just continues on. “It will mean hard work for you- harder work than you’ve ever done before, and I will not be an easy mistress.”

I am a Stark of Winterfell, and I do not shrink from challenges.

“I don’t mind hard work,” says Sansa stoutly.

Arwen’s smile grows, to a grin bright enough to rival the sun. “Very well,” she says. “Let us keep this between us, then, Sansa. But take heart: this shall not be the last time you see Lord Boromir. That much I can assure you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You need not; not yet, at least.” She winks. “For that which you do not know cannot be revealed. Bid him goodbye tonight, when they leave. And keep your head tilted high, Lady Sansa of House Stark. Your tale of Middle-Earth shall not end in the safety of Imladris.”

...

Sansa approaches him in the evening. She is still pale and red-eyed, but her gaze is steady and her voice soft when she hands him a ribbon of silk.

“Be safe, my lord,” she tells him.

“I shall,” says Boromir, and embraces her, and Sansa returns it with enough warmth.

He does not ask her to stay safe as well, or to heed his orders.

He does not even think on it.

Boromir has heard his uncle Imrahil curse his daughter Lothiriel many times in his life; for all that she is a kind and good woman, there are times that Lothiriel can act without thought and bring down the best-laid plans, plans years in the making, within a scarce few moments. But Boromir doesn’t remember that then. He only smiles down at his ward, and thanks his stars that she’s proven to be so understanding.

Later, Boromir curses himself to be a fool.

#lotr #sansa #boromir #got #asoiaf #my writing #poor boromir... he'll have more than one heart attack before the end of this story.

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chloca-cola · 4 years

Note

Imagine you the player fall in any game (ffxv,resident evil,and devil may cry) and you being the main character.

Ok, this one struck my fancy because it's a different ask. I ended up getting slightly carried away with it lmaoooo I may have the actually end up weiting a series about this one! I hope you like it nonny! I also only used Resident Evil at this time Haha

TW: Awkwardness mainly lmao

Word count: 917

~~~~~~~~

"Ok!" You exclaim as you walk into your living room, flopping down on your couch after a long grueling day at work. "Time to play Resident Evil 6!" You shrugged out of your light jacket as your Playstation 4 booted up, excited to delve back into the game again.

You didn't expect it to be a literal sense of the phrase, you don't know how or even why you actually delved into the game. Landing face first in the middle of a road in Lanshiang, you groan loudly.

"What the fuck?" Is your first real sentence after incoherent groaning, and you try to sit up only to have your elbow grabbed and you were then yanked to a standing position.

"Are you ok, that was a hell of a fall." You freeze, you recognize that voice. Leon had a hold on you and you felt yourself blushing as you turn to look up at him.

"What the fuuuuck?" You breath out again in even more disbelief, looking about your person, and Leon looked over at Helena, who shrugged in response.

"He asked you a question." Helena pointed out to you and you shake your head, you didn't need them thinking you're infected or something. Now that you're in this game, would you cease to exist anymore if you die in here?

"Yeah, no, I'm fine. Just a little dazed is all." You ramble out, even though your confusion had not waned, at least the pain from the fall was. How in the hell were you supposed to get out of here when you don't even know how you got here?

Asleep! You must be asleep and this is just some kind of overworked stress induced dream that you're having. That made more sense than you somehow just falling into the lap of this game.

You slap yourself on the forehead at your revelation. All you had to do was force yourself to wake up. You broke free of Leon's grasp, closing your eyes hard, trying to will yourself to wake up.

"Come on, you can do this. You've taken yourself from nightmares before. You're not really here with Leon and Helena." You mumbled to yourself, while shaking your arms and rotating your neck and relaxing your shoulders.

"Hey, how do you know our names?" Leon asked, shit...you waking yourself didn't work and now you have to explain yourself. You open your eyes to see them both eyeing you cautiously, as if you're an espace mental patient. Why not just bite the bullet at this point?

"You guys… are video game characters?" You begin, grinning, shrugging your shoulders animatedly and laughing nervously. "This is actually the 6th installment of this series?" You look at Leon. "You're my favorite character actually." You admit much to your chagrin, and your cheeks heated because of it.

The duo looked at you as if you lost your mind before looking at each other for help, but neither knew what to say in response.

"And like, I dunno how I got here, and I don't know if we gotta beat the game for me to leave. I don't know if I'll die in real life if I die in here. I'm just as confused as you two." You prattle on, flailing your arms around as your distress rose in your body. "I dunno if I'm dreaming, I just...dunno!" You finally shout and Leon hisses at you to be quiet and you slap your hands over your mouth. "Sorry." You hiss back at him and he sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Well, in your...state, I don't feel right just leaving you here."

"Leon, she'll just slow us down!" Helena stated, and you felt a tinge of hurt from her words, even though you knew it was probably true. You had never played this game for anything other than entertainment, so it's not like you're a good shot. Hey, maybe you actually get like character stats now that you're in the game, you thought to yourself hopefully before padding around on your body to in fact find you have a handgun in your possession.

You hold up the firearm triumphantly, as if it were the holy grail, suddenly feeling a slight bit more badass than helpless.

"Let's kick some zombie ass!" You puffed out your chest and began walking away from them with a determined stride.

"Uh. We're going this way." Leon called out to you and you did an about face, pointing in the new direction.

"Kicking zombie ass this way!" You walk passed then and Helena looked up at Leon.

"You think she's stable? Seems a little disillusioned."

"A little? She thinks this is a video game. Could just be her way of coping with this though." He offered as they began to follow you.

~~~

It was a long hard battle, but you did manage to beat the game. You couldn't believe you actually survived this ordeal, it's much scarier than just sitting on your couch and playing.

"Thanks for your help." Leon patted you on your back as you were doubled over, hands on your knees sucking in lungfuls of air. You straightened up, still panting, waving a hand dismissively, as if you aren't completely wiped out.

"Hey man, no big deal. It was nothing!" You lied through your huffs of air, laughing it off.

Now it was just time to figure out how you were going to get out of here, before you somehow jump to Resident Evil 7.

#resident evil #resident evil leon #resident evil 6 #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #ask #answer #anonymous #if that is your real name #re leon #resident evil imagine #helena harper #reader insert #biohazard leon #biohazard 6 #biohazard

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livelovelaug-h · 6 years

Text

Harder

Warning - it's gonna seem sexual but like April fool's. LMAOOOO you'll see.

Dean x reader

A/n- This is for @butiaintgonnaloveem Tiff’s WTF*ck Challenge. My line will be in bold. My line: "Harder is not a good safe word" thanks for letting me participate!! Sorry for taking so long.

Nachzehrer- ghoul like vampire creature. (German). Also all spelling mistakes are mine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and the winchesters have been doing cases one after the another after the another. And the worst part is your barely getting any sleep which means everyone is pretty cranky or on edge.

"hey can we stop and get some coffee?"

"yeah already heading there"

You guys got your coffee and sat at a booth. You just didn't know what creature it was this time, they were barely any leads.

You spoke up first "so who do we interview?"

"well the reports it says "there were graves that were undug and new bodies that were put down there had half their flesh ripped off. Then three nights before that there was a girl found in a dumpster that had her hesrt ripped out." Sam says.

"then the girls family?" You asked looking at Dean.

"yep. Let's go"

You interviewed the family and you found out that the girl started hanging out with a new friend two weeks ago, that seemed like trouble her mom said so now you have to find this guy. Also the day she died she went to a party with a few friends. You spoke up to Dean

"I don't really think it's that guy though all parents say that about girls friends or boyfriends."

"well doesn't hurt to check".

"Let's split up. You and sam go talk to the friends. and ill go talk to the Sheriff's and go to the graveyard, see if you can find any clues."

"okay, be careful please." You said and Sam ans you went to go steal a car and talk to her friend carrie.

~~~

"Thanks for letting us come in" you say.

"yeah no problem. So what would you like guys like to know?"

"do you know that guy that she was hanging out with by any chance?"

"are you talking about mace? The guy she met two weeks ago?"

"yeah him. Do you know where we can reach him by any chance"

"um no he said he just moved here and we never really hit it off so I never got his phone number".

"Oh alright".

~~~~~~~

The next friend - jamie-

"do you know where we can reach the guy by any chance that she met two weeks ago?"

"no. She didn't really ever ask to text or anything. He was new to town but he seemed weird."

Ofc. She didn't have it 😐

Well after interviewing the next friends and getting no where becuz no one had his number, you all decided to met Dean at a bar.

"did you find anything at the graveyard" you asked Dean.

"nope. nada"

"ugh this case is a dead-end."

You guys were sitting on barstools; it was Sam, Dean and then you on the end. A girl came up and sat right next to you.

"hey" she said. "hey"

"strange little town ain't it?"

"yeah it is"

"there's been like a strange vampire or creature thing happening here." She says and laughs.

"yeah.... Haha" you look over towards Dean he looks just as confused. " Do you believe in Vampires?"

"uh not really but its like the only explanation for this stuff. But idk I think it might be that new guy in town"

"new guy?" Dean asked.

"yeah his name is Josh. He hung out with the girl who died but it probably was just all coincidental. I think it's her other friend Alex. He was always started drama and he was so jealous of her."

"Probably. Do you happen to know where he is?" You asked her because she was mainly focusing on you; which was strange considering dean and Sam the two hottest guys sitting there RIGHT next to her. Just then a guy walks over to her hugging her and quickly kisses her lip. Ah maybe that's why she didn't look....

"what ya guys talking about?" He asks.

"you know that new guy in town Josh? Well they I was telling them about him. Do you mind showing her where he works?" She asked him all sweetly.

"yeah sure thing sweetheart".

"I'll show u guys the other guy"

"woah i wanna go with her" dean said. you looked at Dean & then the girls face she spoke up: "it's okay she'll be fine my husband is very protective". Her husband smiled big at you.

"Okay.... Wait.." dean came over and gave you a hug and whispered in your ear. "Remember the safeword".

"yeah. I love you too dean" you said and pulled away trying not to look suspicious.

You got in the car with the guy and it was pretty awkward since you didn't know him. You started asking him questions like how did him and his wife meet etc. He was a pretty nice dude. You got to the place the guy worked at and he said he was friends with him so you guys could go through the back door. Only problem was it was very dark in the back and there was an alley next to it; since Dean wasn't there you didn't really feel well protected.

You were looking down when he was just about to open the door when you felt someone head butt you and push you into the wall. Mad your head get all fuzzy. "

"You freaking Hunters weren't supposed to find us"

"yeah well we did so-". Next thing you know your world went black.

You woke up and of course you were tied to a chair. So you started working on getting out.

You didn't even notice it until he said it.

"oh so you're gonna be awake for this feeding"

You looked down at your side and saw blood oozing out not a time because it was slowing down.. you wondered how long you been out for.

"leave me alone"

Just then his wife comes in.

"I'll be back just give us a minute. you sit tight"

HA! You mocked him. You actually caught the one Rope free from your hands and started working on the other hand. It's been about 5 minutes and you got loose. you knew he would be back soon so you ran down the long hallway of where you were. You were completely out of breath when you hide behind a wall and heard your phone ringing.

You were huffing "h-h-hello?" It was dean thank God.

"Y/n? Where have you guys been?"

"..w- wh- with - that guy-...

"what are you guys doing? are you guys....?"

Before you could answer the guy grabbed your throat. You remember you could say the safe word. He was squeezing your throat so hard

So you moaned out "harder".

it sounded like you moaned In pleasure and Dean saw red and thought you were cheating on him. He told Sam to find your location and off they went to go find you.

When they went in it was dark and empty like no one was there. But then Dean saw you tied in a chair. He felt really guilty how could he think you cheated on him? I mean those sounds just sounded so real.... Like sex.... But rn he has to focus on getting you out of there alive. How could he not remember the safe word. You guys just made it this morning.

He saw your neck and side all bloodied

"well well well back to see the rest of the show?"

"let her go"

"she's almost finished though"

Dean heard a growl behide him and turned around punching whatever was behide him. He stabbed the vampire in neck with a small wooden steak. Then the wife from earlier comes charging at Dean and the guy starts fighting with Sam. He bites Sam a little but Sam and Dean both defeat the two Nachzehrer's. Their main concern is getting you home and untied.

"Y/n hey, hey wake up". You didn't answer. Dean cut your ropes and carried you to the impale the whole time praying to Cas.

Sam started driving to the bunker and you finally opened your eyes.

"hey"

"Hey there. How ya feeling?"

"I've been better"

"yeah you scared me. I thought you cheated on me and I saw you were bleeding. Harder is not a good safe word."

"Its not. And why did you think I cheated on you?"

"well you guys were gone for awhile and then you were out a breath and then you moaned harder what am I supposed to think?"

"Hahahaha. That's cute I love you too much I wouldn't cheat on you. but I moaned it because he was squeezing my throat"

"yeah I get that now. I'm sorry I love you too. From now on our safe word is----"

"spaghetti!" You said.

"yeah okay your back to normal" dean said and gave you a kiss on the lips.