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buckys-estrella · 3 years

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Love Language

Din Djarin x reader

inspo: a maladaptive daydream of mine :)

masterlist

word count: 2.2k

summary: You explain love languages to Din and get the chance to show him yours.

warnings: slight allusions to sexual touches but overall very fluffy, that’s it. im touch starved and one of my main love languages is physical touch so this happened.

The child had been asleep for no more than 5 minutes when Mando descended the ladder from the cockpit. You were sitting nearby, keeping an eye on the little womp rat even though there was no need to. It had been a long day for him, and his rest was much needed. Din went to sit on the edge of his cot, his helmet facing your direction. You waited a couple beats, wondering if he was going to say anything. Your reflection stared back at you through his visor, looking expectant. You knew Din was a man of few words; on the other hand, you could talk for hours on end about anything. After not wanting to be in silence any longer, you spoke up and asked him a question.

“What’s your love language?” He didn’t say anything for a while, just tilted his head to the side. You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking given that you were looking at a kriffing blank expanse of beskar. The bastard was lucky that all his emotions and thoughts could be hidden while yours were on full display for everyone to see.

“My what?” His voice finally rang out through the modulator in the quiet hull.

“Your love language. Everyone has one. It’s like how you express love for someone else.” Your sorry excuse of an explanation probably did little to help him understand because his head tilted a little more in what you can only assume was his quizzical stance.

“I don’t think I have one.” Now it was your turn to look at him quizzically. Of course he had to have a love language. He might not know what it is, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist.

“You have one, trust me. You probably just don’t know what it is. I could help you figure it out if you want.” You pray to the Maker that he takes you up on your offer because you really want to know how he loves. Not for selfish purposes (okay, maybe a little), but to get a better insight on the man hidden behind the armor. You look to the statue of a man waiting for him to do or say anything. Slowly, he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together.

“Alright, show me.” You must be spending too much time with him because those three words shouldn’t have that much of an effect on you. You clear your throat a bit while trying to come up with a plan on how to proceed. You knew Din didn’t speak much, so you tried your best to work around that. Finally, you figured it out and cleared your throat once more, this time to ward off the nerves that were now creeping up on you.

“There are five love languages, and everyone has a mix of them; one or two are just more prominent than the others. I can explain them to you, and you’ll just let me know which resonates most with you. Sound like a plan?” You held your breath, hoping he’d agree to the now little experiment you’re performing. You got no words from the mandalorian, only a nod of his head, which prompted you to proceed.

“I want to apologize in advance for the explanations I’m about to give you, I’m no expert about any of this.” You looked at him expectantly. For what? You don’t know. Maybe a joke of sorts to help calm you before you go on a hopefully short rant about love languages to the man you love yourself. He did no such thing, just stayed still in his position, waiting for you to continue. Taking a deep breath, you went on, wishing that your feelings would settle down so you could just power through this.

“Well, there’s quality time, which just means that you feel closest with your loved one when you spend time with them. You don’t have to be doing anything, just being in each other’s presence is enough. Of course, it’s always nice when you do something together.” Din didn’t say anything, so you decided to move onto the next one.

“There’s also acts of service. Basically, just doing things for your partner, like helping them with stuff…Kriff I’m sorry I’m so bad at explaining this.” You put your head in your hands and let out a frustrated groan. You wish you could see him, or at the very least for him to gives you some sort of cues of what he was thinking.

“You’re doing fine, cyare. Continue.” It didn’t slide past you that he spoke the word in Mando’a. Of course, you had no clue what it meant, hoping it was something good instead of a veiled insult. You offered a quick thanks his way. Relieved that he was paying attention and wanted you to go on.

“Words of affirmation is another one. That’s when you show your love through words. Like saying, ‘I love you’ or ‘I appreciate you’ and others along those lines.” You tried to brush it off near the end after you felt yourself getting warm. You didn’t expect to have that sort of reaction after saying those words in front of Din. Sure, it wasn’t directed towards him, but you wish they were. You wish you could tell him you love him. Bringing your gaze back to him, you noticed he seemed a little stiffer, awkward almost. Maker, it made him seem even more like a statue.

“Gifts is the next one, both giving and receiving. It doesn’t have to be anything big, just something small to let your partner know you were thinking about them. Are any of these sticking with you yet?” You held out hope that at least one would resonate because you refused to believe he was right when he said he didn’t have one. You knew he could be soft and sweet, especially with the child.

“Not really, what’s the last one?”

“I guess you could say I saved the best for last. My main love language is physical touch. Basically, I like to be touching or touched by my partner in some way. It doesn’t have to be sexual, just holding hands or laying my head on their shoulder.” You could feel yourself tense up under his steady gaze. You just admitted to Din that you liked to be touched. In all sorts of ways, but you didn’t dare indulge too much in that. It was awkward enough just explaining the gist of it. Looking up, you saw him nod his head a bit.

“That one. Same as you cyar’ika.” Oh, Maker. You didn’t know what to do with this information. Now your mind was filled even more with thoughts of getting to touch him, his hands on your body too. It was making your head spin, and you felt weak in the knees. If you hadn’t already been sitting, you might have stumbled a bit because of the sheer force this revelation had on you. As much as your mind and body was recovering from this, your mouth had a mind of its own, letting words tumble out that you can’t take back.

“Let me touch you.” Once you processed what you said, your eyes widened like saucers, and a hand came flying up to your mouth as if you could shove the words from out of the air and back into your mouth. You shot up from where you had been sitting, avoiding eye contact, desperately trying to find some sort of space on the ship where you could disappear. Stupid, you thought. Just because he said he has the same love language as you doesn’t mean he wants to engage in it with you. Your berating thoughts were interrupted when you heard Mando speak.

“Come here.” You wish you could say you locked eyes with him, but truth be told, there was no way of knowing. It sure felt like it though with the electricity that ran through your body as your eyes landed on his helmet. They didn’t stay there though, your gaze was slowly taking, no, drinking him in. He sat rested against the back wall of his quarters, his hands on thighs, patting them lightly as a form of invitation. You stood for a moment, frozen, not believing what your eyes were telling you. It was a fleeting feeling because your body was buzzing with excitement at the opportunity to be near the man you loved so dearly.

Before you knew it, you were straddled on his lap, your legs fitting snuggly on both sides of his hips. The beskar tried its hardest, but to no avail, you could still feel how warm his body was. His face was so close to yours yet so far away, hidden behind a visor you wish you could see through. The tension between the two of you was palpable; it was as if both of you were afraid to even breathe. That the life-sustaining action would somehow reveal that the moment was merely a dream or delusion. Slowly, Din lifted one of his gloved hands towards you, finally letting it rest gently on your chest, just above your beating heart. He was real, you were real, this was real.

You brought your hands up to lay on top of his, holding him there for a moment before pulling him away. His helmet tilted, that same quizzical tilt you saw earlier. You softly started to trace his gloved fingers before looking at him and asking what you hoped wasn’t a hopeless question.

“Can I take your glove off?” A strangled noise came from him that made no logical sense to you yet somehow spoke very deeply to how you both must feel at this moment. He nodded his head, letting out a breathless ‘yes’ that was music to your ears. Pulling at the tips, you slowly started to take his glove off, finger by finger. Once it was off, you carefully set it down by your side before returning your gaze to his now bare hand. It was funny how such a simple act could make your heart flutter to the point where it felt like it may just fly out of your chest. Din was always covered; you never saw his skin. The trust he put in you at this moment to take off his glove was monumental and meant the world to you.

Before you went to touch his skin, you reached for his other hand, the one that was still gloved. You looked at him, waiting for permission, hoping you weren’t pushing your luck. Another nod from him, and you went straight to work on taking it off the same way you had before, placing the glove on the other side of the two of you. You made no move beyond that. Sitting still on his lap as you took in your situation, staring at his bare hands before you.

You moved softly, gently, as if you thought he would scare easily. Slowly, you started to trace the back of his hands, feeling his warm skin on your fingertips. The moment you two made skin to skin contact, Din sucked in a sharp breath. You stopped and looked up from his hands to face your reflection through his helmet.

“Sorry, it’s just-it’s been so long cyar’ika. And you feel so good, keep going. Please.” You didn’t have to be told twice. You had been longing for the opportunity to touch him since you became a part of his little makeshift clan. You continued your actions, soon turning over his hand to trace his palm and calloused fingers. You couldn’t help but think of the power and talent he held in his hands. It marveled you as you reveled in the fact that you were able to hold him like this, to have him like this, just for you.

Placing your palms against each other, you raised your hands and intertwined your fingers. Hands clasped together, connected, it sent a surge of warmth throughout your body. Din must’ve felt it too, because he shuddered slightly underneath you. Even though the helmet blocked you from getting confirmation, you could feel his gaze strong and steady set on you. You leaned forward, wishing you could kiss him, to feel his lips on your own; alas, you knew it probably wouldn’t happen. At least, not tonight. You still held out hope that some day in the future, you’d have the chance.

Feeling cold beskar press against your heated forehead, your eyes fixed back on where you hoped his gaze was. You could hear his breaths through the modulator, wishing they could mingle with your own. Instead, you basked in the intimacy of such a simple action. Holding each other, feeling more connected with him in this moment than with any other person in your life. The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, but you loved it. You loved every second of it. However, the events of the past day were catching up to you, and you could feel yourself start to drift into the warm grasp of sleep.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum” Were the last words you heard come out of Din’s mouth before you finally gave in to the sleep your body craved. Satisfied that for the first time, you fell asleep in the arms of your lover

A/N: This is my first mando fic so pls be nice. I've just been really soft for him lately and this situation has been what ive been falling asleep thinking ab for like the past 3 weeks so i decided to finally write it out. anyways i know i mainly post bucky but i rlly wanna write more for others, including Din, so expect more in the future :))

Taglist: @propertyofpoeandbucky

idk who else to tag, so let me know if in the future you wanna be tagged in Din fics

#love language #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x y/n #pedro pascal #sara:writes

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yellowdumduck · 4 years

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Snapped (Mammon writing piece)

Thank you to @thehouseoflamentation for the idea for this one-shot!

Over the years, Mammon had accepted all the mistreatment he has gained. Being pushed around by his younger brothers, always being the butt of the joke and all the negative words that kept him awake at night.

Maybe being the literal embodiment of greed had held him out for so long, his mind kept convincing him any type of attention is good. Any type of contact is enough. Mammon genuinely thought this was normal, so he never fought his younger, less powerful brothers back. Never showed them their place, unlike Lucifer.

Part of him also believed he deserved half this treatment because of him always stealing things from them, all the scams, everything he has done for a quick buck. Mammon was taking in the karma with open arms, accepting the mistreatment, abuse and hurt with open arms.

Until MC came.

They treated Mammon with such care. Whenever they teased him, it felt more loving, more light-hearted. He was desperate for contact, and they gave him the right type.

One night, they were exchanging silly little secrets. Like, for example, stupid things they believed in as a kid. Idols they looked up too. The atmosphere was light and full of laughter until the question was asked.

The question that MC has been too concerned about to ask, the question that Mammon did not know will change his point of view forever.

“Why do you let your brothers treat you like that?”

Silence followed the question, making Mammon choke on his spit. MC immediately regretted asking as they patted his back in the hope he will recover.

His heart raced from the gentle touches, but did not let that fact distract him from the question, “W-what do you mean? They don’t mistreat me, no one would dare mistreat the Great Mammon!”

He tried to smirk, but the look of sadness on their face made him freeze.

“That’s how family treats family… right?” Mammon’s voice became unusually soft, like a childs.

MC felt their heartbreak. They look away, causing only silence for a reply.

“Oi, MC. Reply to the Great Mammon!” He says, but his tone does not match his words as he starts to feel is world crashing own.

“Oh, Mammon..” MC rushes to him and wraps their arms around him tightly. Mammon gasps from the positive attention, still not used to it and he returns the intensity of the hug. Quietly trying to figure out the puzzle that has scattered his brain.

---

Today has been a horrible day.

First, Mammon realizes that Goldie has been taken again. Next, his modeling gig has been moved. Lastly, he was late for breakfast and Beel ate all the food, and having no money left, he was starving as he finally got to lunch.

MC offered to pay for his lunch, and he eagerly agreed. He wanted to get the highest things on the menu, but that was interrupted by being shoved to an empty cafeteria table.

Collective gasps rang out through the now deadly silent room, the only sound being heard is the angered taps of the third most powerful, Leviathan.

Mammon groaned as his body slightly ached, only to be grabbed by the collar by Levi. He was in his demon form and his snake-like tail withered and snapped behind him.

“You. Little. SHIT!” Levi hissed, each word was delivered with a punch to Mammon’s face, “I heard from Belphie that you sold my Ruri-Chan figures for some shitty ass shoes.”

Mammon felt his mind become dizzy as he heard the false accusation. Something inside him was being lit, and he did not know what it was.

“I deal with your bullshit on a daily basis, and I’ve had ENOUGH!” He threw Mammon to the table again, causing him to break his sunglasses. The glass cut Mammon’s cheek, making him hiss. “Why is such a scummy dumbass like you have to be my older brother? Why do you even bother to try to get money?”

He kicked Mammon in the leg and proceeded to deliver the final blow by picking up the smaller brother (by height) by the throat.

“You don’t deserve to even have MC.” The words were whispered to add effect, but that’s all it took for Mammon to growl.

That is all it took for Mammon to finally snap.

His eyes started to gleam a bright golden yellow, the only source of light as the dark black smoke surrounded the cafeteria. Demons of lesser power started coughing and Levi lost his tight grip to cough. That was all the time Mammon needed.

With both legs, Mammon kicked Leviathan in the ribs, sending him flying backward. He knocked over multiple people as he flew into a concrete support beam. An unsettling crack followed the impact, but the angered demon was not done.

He practically was a flash as he flew over to the injured brother, and started to punch, kick, and just take out his anger on him.

Everyone was quiet from shock as the local class clown was finally using his power.

Soon, the area around the two was red and full of the destroyed building. Mammon got down on one knee and grasped Levi’s chin, looking straight into the barely consciousness boys’ eyes.

“For years, I have taken in your guys bullshit, all of your anger. I was only your punching bag, not a brother.” Levi’s eyes widened as he tried to deny it, only to whimper from the tightening grip on his jaw. “I had thought this is how family acted. This is how they love. I must have really been an idiot.”

The older demon had a cold look in his eyes as his fists were covered in the other’s blood. His wings were fully splayed out, almost to insert his power.

“I know I take things from you without permission, I know I probably deserve that treatment.” Again, Levi tried to deny it, only to get a left hook to his jaw. Mammon’s tone got colder by the second. “But now, I take whatever I want. And you do not mistreat me anymore.”

He could feel his brother shake underneath him, but Mammon could not care less at the moment.

“Now, be useful and tell me where sweet little Belphie is.” As he said that, something in devildom had changed. No one dares to question the third most powerful demon again.

I don’t know how to tumblr-

Additional @’s: @bluelipsblueveins-blue

#obey me #obey me! shall we date #obey me! mammon #obey me! leviathan #obey me! writing

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exodusmc · 4 years

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Wolf and its sheep

Genre: smut, werewolf au, slight enemies to lovers

Words: 2273

Paring: Werewolf Hoseok x witch reader

Warning!:Mentions of alcohol, blood(not grafic), fingering, pet names, slight degrading, biting, rough, unprotected sex(use protection), making out, doggy, breeding kink, knot

a/n: Would anyone want a smut series with different monsters for halloween?? Btw hope you have a great day :)

Gif is not mine

“What the hell?!”staring at the mope of dark hair, filled with bad neon streaks, you hissed.

The boy only smirked, eyes trailing down your wet shirt. He spilled his drink on you and had the audacity to laugh. This is why you hated werewolves, especially the one named Hoseok. He had been the bane of your existence ever since you got to know him, that first day in highschool. Being a witch, you weren’t loved by everyone but oh god, you wished to not be the lamb to the wolf.

“Sorry sorry, didn’t see you witchy..”his looped sided smirk sent anger boling in your blood and if you could, you’d curse him right then and there, force him to turn into a chihuahua every full moon instead.

“Yeah right..”you wanted to scream mut at him but his pack was lurking around to your right, snickering like they always did. Fuck this guy and his friends, you hated them all.”I hope you can see further than your thick skull next time..”

Pushing past him, you purposely hit his shoulder, glaring daggers into his golden eyes. You knew from the beginning that you shouldn’t have come to the party but of course had Mina convinced you, even when you pointed out the extent of werewolves which would come.

Two weeks later you were sitting in the library, reading some text about the half moon, when the chair in front of you was pulled out. Lifting your eyes, you instantly frowned at the brown hair with just a stubborn neon green strand left.

“What do you want?”poison laced your tone and Hoseok only laughed.

“Why? Can’t I just visit my favorite witch?”you had seen him smile before, something which seemed to soften his face, but every time he looked at you, would it only be a shit eating grin.

“No.”

“Oh come onnn!”he whined softly, leaning towards you from his chair. You could see the bubbling mischief in his eyes, the dread of what was to come making you swallow.”We are having a party on Friday and I want you to come. You’re free right? Or are there some blood ritual you need to do under the full moon? Curse a poor child?”

Frowning at him, you stood up from the wood chair, the friend keeping your aching legs company. Hoseok watched with amusement, lips partying to speak again but you left before he could take a breath, thinking about cursing him under the full moon.

“Why won’t you gooo?!”Mina’s voice rang in your head, her sentence just an hour old.

She went to the party, she was drunk, she had fun, but she wanted you to be there, she would never understand. Mina wasn’t a witch, only bearing fairy blood and not the kind which made you what you were. It also meant she didn’t experience the hate you received. Some blamed witches for turning humans into monsters but you didn’t believe that, no one could have that power.

A knock on your door broke the spiraling late night thoughts you had, heavy eyes opening wide.

Mina was the first name to cross your brain but she wouldn’t knock, probably scream instead. But if it wasn’t her, then who? The clock had just struck 11 pm and when you glanced out your window could you see the full moon in all its glory.

“Yes?”instantly was your whole apartment smelling like alcohol and something sweet.”Why are you here? I thought I already told you no..”

Hoseok actually smiled sheepishly towards you, cheeks a little rosy, pupils slightly blown. His hair was wild, like he ran here, and his clothes were covered in some sort of paint. You were pretty sure he was drunk but you had read about werewolves getting the same effect from the full moon.

“I know but I’m here anyway..”his voice was lower than usual, pupils almost taking over his irises. It didn’t sit right with you, a feeling of dread spreading through your stomach. He would never do anything, at least you thought so…”And Mina said it was a good idea to visit.”

Why would she say that?

“I don’t believe she did that..”Hoseok frowned, leaning forward into your personal space.

Heat radiated from him, reaching for your exposed skin. You swallowed too hard, heart picking up speed and if Hoseok would have had ears, they would have flickered towards you. He heard it, no doubt, but you could still keep your mask. Can’t he just leave?And maybe stop making your heart rush at lightning speed…

“But she did and I think you aren’t as mad as you try to be..”he was fast, like every other werewolf, soon standing inside your apartment, back against your gaping form.”I think you can’t hide anymore..”

Turning around, the door closed and you were pressed up against it. His normally brown eyes glowed red and when he smirked were canines shining sharp. The moon fell over him, his breath mixed into yours.

“Tell me Y/n…can you hide? Can my little sheep run?”you gaped at him, gaze rolling around his face, the confiance which painted every feature.

“H-Hoseok what are you doing?”you tried to sound mad but your voice came out breathless, a shiver crawling down your spine when he lifted a finger to stroke over your jaw.

“I’m claiming what’s mine…”leaning forward, his lips placed a wet kiss on your jugular, sucking ever so softly. You felt his teeth scrape against your skin as he moved up to your ear.”I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time baby…let me have a taste, yea?”

You were getting lost, eyes losing focus as his voice seemed to set you in a trance. This wasn’t the annoying Hoseok you knew, this was a predator catching his prey and you were it.

“Tell me Y/n…can I have a taste?”he moved away, left you cold and aching, but Hoseok refused to touch you before you said yes, only glaring you down.

“Y-yes..”his smile was wide but there was nothing gentle about it, hands slowly creeping up your arms until they found hone right under your ear, thumbs lifting your chin.

Hoseok kissed you, hard, pressing you against the door until you thought it would break. He seemed rushed, lips moving fast like he starved for them, tongue messing with your own. There was no time to breathe, not as your hands moved up to his soft locks. You tugged on them, scraping his scalp, electing low grumbles from his chest. Hoseok was absorbed with the way you felt, fingers traveling to your pajama covered legs.

You suddenly remembered that you weren’t really prepared for this, wearing not so sexy underwear but at the same time…you didn’t really think Hoseok would come bursting through your door and start making out with you.

“Jump..”his low growl made you break from the kiss, legs falling around his hips while his hands squeezed the flesh of your butt. He smirked, licking swollen lips. Why was he suddenly so hot?”Such a good kitty, listening to everything I say..”

He moved across the room, letting you stare at his neck and peeking collarbones, the sweat forming on his hairline, but you didn’t get to kiss him. Hoseok was determined to make you want him as much as he wanted you.

“You’re my pretty girl, right?”your back dropped onto the not so glamorous bedding you slept on, Hoseok between your thighs and eyes still glowing. He was fighting the wolf but it would be worth all the time it would take. The possessiveness in his voice gave you butterflies when it probably shouldn’t, heat spreading to your cheeks. His fingers snaked down to your nape, grabbing the hair so you had to arch your back. A breathy moan escaped you when you felt his teeth against the front of your neck, a growl coming deep from his chest when he spoke again.”You’re mine..”

Somewhere in your head, you knew he would mark you but the lust had taken over, left you a mess of his hands, his breath, his mouth. Hoseok could smell you like never before, mouth nipping at the flesh of your no exposed shoulder. He was losing patience and tore the t-shirt you had on, smirking like a devil, like a wolf, at your perky nipples.

Dragging his fingernail down the valley between your breasts, eyes on you, Hoseok smirked. The strong willed witch whom he played around with, whom he annoyed, was falling apart under his hands.

“Here…”he whispered in your ear, hand resting on your stomach.”Here will my puppies be…”

Goosebumps scattered around your body, breath picking up as his fingers slid further down. You were warm and dripping, feeling so small under his moon lit figure, but it felt good, it felt like you could melt from your bones if he touched you.

“You’ll be a good girl and take them, right?”his breath fanned down your neck, heavy and hot. Hoseok was staring at the skin over your collarbone, staring at the untouched flesh where his mark should be.”You’ll take them all..”

You had been so distracted by his mumbles, by his nipping at your earlobe, you hadn’t noticed his hand slipping into your bottoms. Not until his finger dragged across your pussy, collecting the pooling wetness.

Hoseok felt it, he smelled it. It was intoxicating to say the least, the way you screamed for him without using your words. The simple curle of his fingers in you managed to get the real sounds out of you.

You gasped out a moan and saw stars the more he coaxed your orgasmn to come closer. A squealing sound left your pussy, something you didn’t have time to be embarrassed by, but it made him hard in his pants, the wolf in him howling.

Leaving you on the edge of pleasure, Hoseok ripped your pajama pants in two, forcefully parthing you slightly trembling thighs. His mouth watered at the sight you were, teeth growing sharper as his nails pierced your skin. It made you exhale loudly, back arching just a little. He smiled at the way your body was so ready for his cock, his knot to sit deep inside of your pathetic pussy.

“Oh can’t my little kitten wait? Does she want my cock and puppies so bad??” the moon made him crazy, eyes gleaming red like the blood dripping down the inside of your thighs.”Look at you…leaking all over your bed like a little slut.”

He growled, made your lower stomach combust in need. You whined at his teasing, at the way he so painfully dragged out time. The fact that you could be full now but weren’t made you annoyed. However, Hoseok flipped you around and before you could protest again, did you feel the head of his cock dragging between you swollen folds. He hissed himself and let go of all the control, letting out a final exhale before he bottomed out in you. You could feel him so deep, almost kissing your cervix, but it felt good, it felt amazing. All the anger you fely for him was gone, replaced by your high moans as he moved in and out, replaced with searing hotness. Hoseok could see wetness shining on your thighs, mixing slightly with the blood. It made his wolf growl mine. You were his and nobody else’s, his to hold, his to destroy.

Your arms were shaking so bad you could hold yourself up, chest falling down onto the sheets. Somewhere along the line had Hoseok ripped his own clothes off, dragging his hands up your sides until they found your neck and hair. He forced you to sit up while keeping his speed up, cock pistoning in and out of your poor pussy, making you feel so good.

“G-good girl…taking me so well..”he groaned by your ear, squeezing lightly around your neck while you bounced up and down. You were reaching the end, eyes blurring and back arching borderline painfully.”You want it, right? Want all my cum..”

Hoseok was close as well, mouth kissing featherlight on your shoulder, prepping the place where he would bite. He could feel your walls give a final squeez, milking him for everything he got. His teeth pierced your skin and you screamed, pain and pleasure becoming a big mess of emotions. Hoseok came as well, arms holding you up, resting over your chest. Cum pumped into you, so much so a little bump formed over your lower stomach.

You weren’t completely there when his knot grew, keeping the cum in your quivering pussy, but Hoseok was. His body fell onto your bed, trying to hold you up until you laid on the messed up sheets. He was breathing hard, watching your chest rise and fall, staring at the wound on your shoulder. You were his now but he was yours as well.

Hoseok really didn’t think this through because if you rejected him…it would hurt worse than hell for him but you would be fine. He really fucked up..however, at the same time was he happy to finally have you. The wolf was done with pretending and playing, he just wanted to have the one the moon choose for him.

Tomorrow, he thought as he covered you and himself, tomorrow will he care but tonight are you his and he is yours.

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the-darklings · 4 years

Note

can i request for march blurb night in advance?? like a santi/v au where they meet after a few years of v being manager and santi being married (and expecting a kid)? im really curious about how the conversation would go down👀👀

—IN MY PLACE;

⤫ pairing: santino x reader!V

⤫ wc: 2.9k+

⤫ notes: BRO. For context, please read this first. Also, blast “In My Place” by Coldplay for extra feels.

“I’m afraid that I cannot—”

Your head snaps up, the pen in your hand stilling as you raise your head towards the door of your office. Charon’s voice is familiar to you but you rarely hear it anything other than soothing monotonous. The unease, the reluctance—those are not things that you hear often, if at all.

Has that dreadful individual arrived already?

No—no, Charon would have rang to inform you first. The Adjudicator is distant in their ruthless professionalism, but they won’t force their way into your office. They better not.

The door slams open and your fingers rest against the comforting weight of a sharpened blade, tensing. Your role now may be to keep order but very few do it as efficiently as you do. There is a reason why you have become such a renowned manager and it has little to do with kindness.

But—

Something clenches around your heart, your spine, dragging you years back at the sight of the face in front of you.

You haven’t seen him since—

Since Santino came to you personally after the news about his engagement broke—not since you told him face-to-face that the only way to keep his power was to follow through with it. Camorra council was getting antsy for heirs, for the security that comes with a continuous line of succession. He could not delay any further without risking an outright rebellion or attempts to take his power.

The power that’s been in his family since Camorra was founded centuries ago.

He hasn’t changed. Same hair, same irritated expression, same arrogant posture, same fancy suit.

Same intense eyes that latch onto you like he’s been starved for the sight of you.

You try to ignore the stab right into your heart at the glimpse of a golden wedding band around his finger.

You try to ignore the way he exhales slowly, like some invisible weight has dropped away from his shoulders now that he’s in front of you.

“My apologies, Miss,” Charon begins and you drag your eyes to your right hand, rising to your feet. “But I’m afraid Mr D’Antonio was rather…insistent on seeing you. I told him you were busy and unavailable—”

Santino’s lips part, his expression dark, but you speak before he can. “Don’t worry,” you reassure Charon, giving him a measured look. “This will not take long. Please continue with the preparations.”

A polite dismissal.

Charon hesitates. Behind his glasses, his dark eyes slide towards the Italian—one of the most powerful men in the world, now—and if you didn’t know any better you would say that Charon gives Santino D’Antonio a warning look before he nods at you.

He obeys without another word, closing the office door softly behind himself and all is silent.

You have no idea what to say to him. You told him that he should never see you again. That it would be for the best; a clean break. His presence here, now, is like a knife—a slow, dull, searing knife you could spend days twisting inside your heart. Always just a bit more, just a tiny bit longer; you would hold onto him till you can almost pretend that you’re both happy and free.

“(Name).”

He seems to choke on your name; exhale it from deep inside his chest, soft and loving and hungry. His eyes journey over your features and you see, feel, taste his longing for you in that simple gesture alone. In turn, you chain your own longing tighter. Chain that part of you that wants to do nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and—

I’ve missed your stupid, sleepy face.

“Congratulations,” you whisper gently instead, trying to keep the pain from your expression and voice by injecting coolness into your words. “It’s wonderful news. I hope it’s an easy pregnancy—”

“Don’t,” he snarls, his expression twisting with rage as he cuts the distance between you but you step back before he can touch you. “I am not here because of that. I’m—”

“Then why are you here, Santino?”

He exhales loudly, the frame of his body restless as it is tense. Upon closer inspection, you realise that you were wrong. He looks miserable. The bags under his eyes are so deep and dark, he looks at least ten years older. Like the cocky ease with which he’s always held himself has crumbled away into nothing.

“Why?” he breathes unsteadily, and tries to reach for you again but you pull back again, the back of your thighs almost brushing against your work desk. “Why won’t you let me touch you, amore? Let me. Let me.”

His voice is a wrecked whisper as he steps closer, leaning his face closer while his fingers come to cup your cheeks. He’s as frantic as he is hollowed out, unsteady, and you both exhale when your skin meets his. A shudder rolls across your limbs and you have to swallow down your own relief. You know him intimately; the heat of his palms, the tickle of his breath, the scent of his cologne and the security of his presence by your side.

For a moment you simply stand together, your foreheads almost touching, your breaths mingling. You breathe. Deep, haggard breaths. A part of you wonders if this is the first time in a year since either of you has been able to breathe properly.

“Mi manchi,” he exhales in the space between you, his voice thick, warped. His fingers trace over the curve of your jaw, breathless, and your palm settles against his chest and the thundering beat of his heart alone betrays him. “So much I can’t sleep at night. Every minute, hm, every minute of every day, you haunt me. Tell me—tell me I am not alone in this sickness. This longing. Please, amore.”

Your fingertips hover over the round curve of his cheek, his chin, and you only offer him a pained, “You’re not.”

You’ve been just as sick with longing for him as he’s been for you but—

He slams into you. The back of your legs crash against the desk but you don’t care because he’s kissing you and god—

It tears through you like a bolt of lightning, just like the first time you’ve kissed and all the times that followed. All those secret, stolen moments between you. The overwhelming heat that explodes through you every time.

His hands are cupping your face, his tongue eager and desperate as it refamiliarise itself with the taste of you and you lean into him too. Your nails scratch against his neck and he groans—that deep, rumbling sound—his hips pressing against yours and you can feel every inch of him. Every exhale and the heat and the taste of him—

You’re burning. You’re not drowning. You’re burning and you want to burn till there is nothing left of you at all. Till you’re both ash and can blow into the wind together, never to be controlled or dependant on the wills of others ever again.

Your fingers slip into his hair, and he caresses your cheek, jaw, neck. His other hand trails down your neck and the curve of your breast before settling against your waist, greedy and selfish. His movements are barely controlled—like he wants to rush but knows that he needs to savour this—and you grind yourself into him, making him hiss out a breath when you break apart for a second.

His self-control has snapped long ago, and his fingers snake around your thighs, coaxing and sensual, and your body knows his, so you obey. With his help, it takes only a tiny boost for you to settle on top of your desk. His slender fingers trace up your skin and your legs part for him, making all the room he might want or need. He slips between them easily, without hesitation; a dance and a play you have done a thousand times before. An effortless shifting and coiling of your limbs and—

And his lips are on your neck, the hollow of your throat, the cut of your collarbone. His burning fingers rest against the back of your neck and you sigh at the hotness of his mouth on your skin. Ravenous. His lips and tongue turn the blood in your veins into liquid flame as he explores. Your own fingers are in his hair again and that welcoming, warming heat in your lower stomach blooms—

“Ti amo così tanto.”

You crash back into reality.

And with it, you push him back so hard, he stumbles.

You get off the desk at once, smoothing your clothes as you gasp for breath, trying to not look at him.

“We can’t—” it sounds like you’re talking through a mouthful of crushed glass but ignore the weakness of your own heart. “We can’t do this anymore, Santino.”

“Why not?”

He barely sounds coherent, but you still don’t look in his direction. Because he has such a way of ripping those walls down. Ever since he’s found a way to do it, he can do it with a blink and you hate him for it. You have to be strong now, more than ever, and you resent the fact that it’s you that has to be strong for the two of you.

You douse the heat in your veins, the inferno in your heart that only he has ever managed to ignite to such a degree, and lift your head.

Santino is breathing so heavily, his shoulders are moving with his inhales and you ignore the wild look in those green eyes of his.

“Because you’re married,” you spit out, pained, forcing the words out even as they shred your heart into ribbons, leaving a gushing, bleeding mess behind. “Because you’re expecting a child. Because there are lines we can’t cross anymore. I’m not that kind of person. We—we can’t be together. It’s time to accept that. Let me go. For your own sake just—”

But he’s shaking his head, his fingers flexing, and he approaches you purposely. Fury deepens the line of his face, sets his jaw into a rigid line. “Never.”

“Please, Santino. You have a wife—”

“I don’t love her,” he snarls lowly, and stalks even closer, his eyes flashing. His gaze is merciless, almost cruel, as he murmurs his next words to you like a confession. “I will never love her. I can’t stand the sight of her, do you understand that, hm? She repels me in every way. On our wedding night, I imagined it was you.”

God, you don’t want to hear this. You can’t—

“Stop.”

Your plea goes unanswered as his digits settle on your forearms, and he stares at you imploringly, still effortlessly cruel.

“When I kissed her, I imagined that I was kissing you, tasting you,” he continues softly, and you shake your head, your eyes squeezing shut like you can block his words out if you don’t see the despondent look on his face. “When I fucked her, I imagined that it was you underneath me, amore mio. I imagined that it was love when I forced myself to touch her and make her feel good. And when I came it was with your name on my lips, not hers. How lucky for me that it only took once, no?”

“Stop,” you growl harshly, and shove him away from you again, your blood roaring in your ears. “Stop it. I don’t want to hear this. I—”

Your eyes burn as you turn your head away, trying to control the tsunami of emotion battering against your heart.

You don’t want to know about a woman—his wife—who exists in your place now.

Santino is silent, his expression drawn, empty.

It’s so unfair. It’s so fucking unfair.

“Do you still love me?”

Your heart stops in your chest for a second, your throat closing up as your head jerks back towards him.

“You know that I do.”

But it doesn’t make a difference. How you feel never makes a goddamn difference. Life never allows you happiness—not really. It throws you scraps of something good before its torn away from you again and again.

Alone. Always so terribly, awfully alone.

“I don’t want to see you again,” you tell him quietly, and you feel your heart tear itself into tiny pieces. But it needs to be done. It needs to be. “And I forbid you from ever touching me again.”

He’s so still, he doesn’t look like he’s breathing. His expression frozen, his eyes wide, and lips parted in disbelief.

You place your hand against the back of your desk, gripping it so tightly your fingers ache. Something to anchor you to reality, something to help you ignore the lost look on his face, the bob of his throat as he forces himself to swallow.

“You have your new life, and I have mine,” you tell him, your words devoid of emotion. “We finally got what we both wanted. Power. Don’t you think we should stop ruining each other’s lives? We should both move on and be happy.”

His gaze is frantic.

“Don’t do this—”

A sharp knock interrupts him. Santino’s mouth snaps shut and you turn towards the door.

“Come in.”

The door swings open before you’re even done speaking and Charon’s guarded stare goes straight to Santino as he enters. The tall man regards the Italian coolly for a moment before his head tilts in your direction respectfully.

“Miss, the Adjudicator has arrived and wishes to see you at once.”

Santino is still staring at you, and every second of silence that stretches between you just leaves you colder and colder.

You both have power now. But there is a price to pay for everything as he’s always been so fond of reminding you.

Santino straightens, his chin tilting in that painfully familiar, proud manner and you almost crumble then. He empties his features of that longing and desire. Empties himself of everything till you’re left staring at the shell he projects.

“This is not happiness, amore,” he says, his voice tinted with resentment, and his hands slip into his pockets. “This is not—”

His eyes go to Charon and he looks up the silent man up and down before his eyes cut back to you.

“Lo sceglierò sempre te,” he states coldly, and you suck in a breath, gripping the table tighter. “Keep that mind, cara mia.”

With that, he turns around and stalks out of the office, taking your heart with him.

His footsteps disappear down the corridor and the silence left behind is so dreadful, you can’t bear to look at Charon.

Minutes drag, but you can’t seem to get rid of the burn in your eyes. You hiss an angry breath from behind your tightly clenched teeth, and press your palm over your eyes.

“Am I—”

The lump in your throat won’t let you speak, and you work to get rid of it for another few moments before you finally articulate your thoughts.

“Am I really that undeserving of happiness, Charon?” you wonder in a fragile, wet whisper. “First John, now Santino. Am I really that awful that I can never be h-happy?”

Crisp steps draw nearer and you lower your hand, staring at the floor. Charon pulls out a serviette from his pocket, offering it to you but you only shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“You more than deserve happiness, Miss,” he says quietly, almost kindly, and your watery stare raises to his face. “After all you have been through, it is not selfish to desire for such a thing.”

He puts the serviette back into his pocket and seems to hesitate. “Permission to speak freely, Miss?”

Your eyebrows knit. “Always.”

Charon sighs faintly, his head tilting slightly as he gives you a piercing look. “I do believe that if Sir were here, he would tell you to the hell with the rules. Go with your heart as they say.”

You chuckle weakly, glancing towards the floor before your eyes lift back to the man before you again. “Winston cared about rules above all else.”

Charon’s eyebrow arch into a pointed line. “I do believe, Miss, that it would not be presumptuous for me to say that he cared about you even more. This hotel has always been more than a job, more than a duty to him—it was Sir’s legacy and he entrusted it to you because he believed you could lead better than anyone. But not at the expense of your own happiness.”

Inhaling deeply, you clear your throat, pressing your fingertips against the corners of your eyes.

“Would you like me to contact Mr D’Antonio—”

“No.”

Charon’s expression slackens with surprise, and you give him a firm look.

“We have business to attend to,” you tell him resolutely, wiping your face of emotion, of vulnerability you showed him because you trust him just as Winston once did. “Like you said, we have a legacy to uphold. Let’s go and show that terrible, annoying Adjudicator what we’re made of.”

Charon stands taller, his posture ramrod straight, and he inclines his head with that cool professionalism. “Of course, Miss,” he says, but you see the sadness buried deep in that dark stare. “As you wish.”

Santino has his new family.

And you have yours.

It’s time to wake up and live in reality.

…

an: AS IF I WAS GONNA WAIT FOR A MONTH FOR THIS PAIN FEST. I would have written this sooner but this ask came through in the middle of my 48 hour COA 11 lockdown and then I had work. But maaaaaan. The pain of this AU………it hit differently. We are here to suffer and suffer only. Hope you “enjoyed” it!!!

#santino d'antonio x reader #santino d'antonio #john wick fic #john wick imagine #john wick #riccardo scamarcio #fanfiction #fic: children of ares #s: i can wait

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kimabutch · 4 years

Text

TMA Fears as Mechanisms lyrics

With thanks to @ofstarstuff for their incredibly valuable input!)

Beholding

“And then ten minutes of Odin’s face, smiling directly into camera. I can't tell if the image is frozen or not, but after watching her increasingly erratic behaviour, I can’t shake the feeling that she’s looking at me.” (White Noise, The Bifrost Incident)

Buried

"Trapped within the warmth and the darkness, from the waking world I was torn/ Never leaving dreamless slumber, in a mind that broken and worn/ Guarded by uncounted ready guns and blades/ Sharper than a barrier of thorns/

Once, out in the sky I was happy, faintly I remember the sun/ Soaring through the dawn and its brightness, battle, beauty; both had I won/ Then a flash of pain as metal pierces flesh/ And all at once my roaming it was done” (Sleeping Beauty, Once Upon a Time (in Space))

Corruption

“A mad disease/ Striking poverty/ In the slums no-one cares about/ In its host/ Causes rapid growth/ In just weeks they will die/ Children then/ Look as aged men/ But have not learned the words to cry/ An old withered corpse yet a child” (Riddle of the Sphinx, Ulysses Dies at Dawn)

Dark

“Though starving fools cry Saxon ghouls/ In the darkness we run free/ What care we for your light and sun/ In the dark we see, in the black we run” (Skin and Bone, High Noon Over Camelot)

Desolation

“Well, the Lucky Sevens, they got you beat/ Your dice may be loaded, but they melt in the heat/ The fire burns bright/ Under you tonight/ ‘Cause Ashes, you’re outta luck/

Oh, the fire scorches your flesh/ An’ the smoke fills your lungs/ Looks like ya rolled snake-eyes, Ashes O’Reilly/ I guess your game is done” (Lucky Sevens, Tales To Be Told, Volume II)

End

“So Orpheus steps into the chamber, and a dull whirring begins inside of it. Getting louder, getting closer, getting more vicious. But he can’t see it through, though, can he? Flinches, looks back, and it doesn’t work.” (The Daidala, Ulysses Dies at Dawn)

Extinction

“He set a new course, and activated the engines. The heat began to grow, not slow, but fast as console sparked and caught fire. But Mordred's heart was ice. The sound of death still rang in his ears, and as the last high noon sounded outside, Mordred rode his rotten world into the sun.” (Justice, High Noon Over Camelot)

Flesh

“At the door to Odin’s cabin, Thor emerges from the fray, tearing through a horde of sharpened flesh and slime-slick meat. In his hands an engineer’s hammer, now chipped and caked in gore. He staggers and bleeds from a hundred wounds as he kicks through the door. Behind it, what once was Odin laughs.Her body long and undulating, her one eye now vast and staring, as she who once styled herself the Allmother is transformed by the touch of the gods she had unknowingly served for so long.” (Ragnarok IV: Jormungandr, The Bifrost Incident)

Hunt

“Fawning, panting/ Wondering when this will end/ Starving, hunting/ Can’t tell my prey from my friend” (Actaea and Lyssa, Tales To Be Told, Volume II)

Lonely

“I’m now locked inside my cabin, and outside there’s only death/ I still hear the General curse me with her choking final breath/ If it’s truly just this station to which now we are curtailed/ Then the power of a god is with the holder of the GRAIL” (Holder of the GRAIL, High Noon Over Camelot)

Slaughter

"We'll suck the ragged eyeballs from the sockets of their skulls/ Their existence is a mad disease, there needs to be a cull/ Upon their rancid soldier-flesh our bayonets will dull/ And their blood will run like wine!/

Take no prisoners, give no quarter/ Show them all the colour of their entrails on the floor/ The Kaiser's men are cattle to the slaughter/ And their blood will run like wine!” (Gunpowder Tim vs the Moon Kaiser, Tales To Be Told)

Spiral

“Who is she that I see? Could it be? Is it me? Or just a dream?/ Crying out, but without any way she can shout her silent scream/ Is this rage at her cage or wars she cannot wage chained in my soul?/ Can I find from my mind that which I left behind making me whole?/

Flashes like camera bulbs fire in my brain/ Is this truly me, am I going insane?/ In faint bloody flashes I watch people die/ And if that was me, then who am I?” (Loki, The Bifrost Incident)

Stranger

“Oh my love, what madness can this be?/ In your place a monster I do see/ I only hoped to understand this work that drains you so/ But I find this metal demon, spinning falsehoods into gold” (Stranger, Tales To Be Told, Volume II)

Vast

“Fating him alone to keep the life to which he clings/ He sends him out, into the dark, the Once and Future King/ A kiss upon his forehead binds at last his son’s goodbye/ Just one more shot will send him out into the endless sky” (Once and Future King, High Noon Over Camelot)

Web

“We don't deceive/ We just twist the way that they perceive/ Just think of all the things you could achieve/ The truth is here for you and I to weave” (Twisted Threads, Tales To Be Told, Volume II)

#tma #the mechanisms #this is what I do on 7 hour plane rides now I guess #body horror for cw #also some of these are not my first choice #but I didn't want to repeat any songs #and I wanted to include all the albums #gore for cw

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itscalledbisexualcrisis · 3 years

Text

Scrap Metal - Chapter 4

Summary: Hiro broke off her engagement to Kuvira three years ago and left Zaofu. All she wants is to live her quiet life in Republic City, away from her haunting past. Kuvira's catching up to her, but is she going to find what she's looking for? Or is she only going to reveal the secrets Hiro kept hidden from her all these years?

Chapter Summary: Hiro is called to Zaofu to help the city in preparation for Kuvira's attack. Meanwhile Kuvira is only growing in her strength.

Read on AO3 Here

The bath water sloshed around as Hiro got in, sighing into the steaming water. Kuvira smiled while taking off her robe. She got in alongside her lover, so that they were facing each other. It was a small tub but neither minded their close proximity. Their legs tangled together under the water and bubbles. Kuvira reached out to stroke one of Hiro’s calves. Hiro sighed again, opening her eyes to look at beautiful green eyes. Kuvira felt the water easing her sore muscles and she gave Hiro a lopsided grin.

Hiro’s hair was up in a top knot while Kuvira’s was in its usual braid. Hiro reached out and stroked the other girl’s incredibly long hair, taking it out of the braid slowly. Kuvira exhaled, relaxing into the hot water. It had been a long week for her and she was still recovering from the battle with the Red Lotus from weeks ago. From getting blasted by a combustion bender and a flying airbender to saving the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, exhaustion was an understatement.

“You need a haircut,” Hiro observed.

“Yeah yeah yeah I’ll get to it.” She hadn’t even noticed these past few months just how long her hair was now. It reached her mid back at least. Her hands were busy massaging Hiro’s arms, covering them in soapy bubbles.

“Why don’t you just let me do it?”

Kuvira raised an eyebrow and she held back a smile.

“Darling, you’re very good with your hands.” She intertwined their hands together and brought them up to her lips to kiss each of Hiro’s knuckles. “But I don’t trust you to cut my hair. Besides, I thought you liked my long hair.”

“I do. But you’re always saying how hard it is to maintain and to keep out of the way when you’re training” Hiro’s hands travelled to Kuvira’s now wavy hair. It fanned out and around Kuvira before dipping into the water. Her hand scratched the back of Kuvira’s scalp, making her moan. Kuvira leaned into Hiro’s touch as she washed her hair, making sure to carefully get each strand. “What about a bob?”

Kuvira opened her eyes and glared at Hiro who wore a cheeky smirk. She splashed the girl playfully making Hiro yelp before pulling Kuvira by the waist. Their torsos were almost touching now. Hiro’s knees bent awkwardly spread out on either side of Kuvira’s body.

“You’re quite annoying,” she stated bluntly. Hiro hummed and pressed a quick kiss on Kuvira’s nose, making it scrunch.

“You love it though.” Hiro’s hands traced along Kuvira’s body, taking care around her bruises and scrapes. Years of being on the force have marked her up with various scars. Hiro traced a long scar running on the outside of Kuvira’s thigh. “And I love you. Every inch of you.”

Kuvira lovingly cupped Hiro’s cheek, stroking the smooth skin before leaning in and pressing a firm kiss on her lips.

---

“I need your help. Rumors are spreading that Kuvira is on her way to Zaofu. We need to fortify the city,” Suyin explained to Hiro over the phone. “You’re the one person that can help us. You know our technology better than anyone else and my husband needs help. Please.”

Hiro gnawed her lower lip. It had been a week since the coronation. Republic City was buzzing with anxiety over the news about the Earth Empire. Hiro kept her head down and tried her best to not think about it. Kuvira’s offer - well more like order - has been swimming in her head. She felt anxious that one of Kuvira’s men would show up at her door or at work one day. But no, they wouldn’t try to kidnap her right? Even Kuvira’s not crazy enough to do anything like that...right?

“I’m more than glad to help, but I haven’t worked on an actual defense system in years,” Hiro admitted. The last thing she worked on were the updates for Republic City. Even though it was recent, they were basic updates that were very outdated. Nothing like Zaofu. “I’m more involved with paperwork and Sato Mobiles nowadays.”

“Please. I’m running out of options. The United Republic can’t get troops out here in time to defend Zaofu. The only choice I have left is to protect my people. Asami has told me how you upgraded Republic City. She said your work was impeccable. I need you.”

Hiro sighed, looking out the window. There was already traffic building up and she groaned internally. She was already late to work this morning and needed to get going.

“I’ll think about it.” “Hurry, Hiro. We won’t have much time left.”

Hiro put the phone down, but couldn’t move from her spot in the living room. She wasn’t expecting a call from Suyin only a week after the failed coronation.

Kuvira’s army heading to Zaofu was unexpected. Sure she had threatened that she was reuniting the whole empire, but Zaofu was safe and secure. They weren’t like the other provinces of the Earth Empire starving or running rampant with bandits. Suyin had created a stable government and a well organized agricultural system to keep the people fed and taken care of, and they had long separated from the monarchy. It seemed like Kuvira was getting more power hungry by the day, and she wasn’t wasting any time in taking power.

But Hiro can tell from her short interactions with her, not to underestimate Kuvira. She was already considered a threat to the Republic Nation. More rumors were coming everyday in the papers about her war tactics and reeducation camps for the provinces and towns she does conquer. It made Hiro feel nauseous at the thought of Kuvira torturing people into submission. She knew Kuvira was harsh, but cruel? Suddenly Hiro wasn’t so sure about Kuvira trying to kidnap her.

She also still felt guilty about leaving Zaofu to help Kuvira all those years ago. Along with helping Kuvira, she left Zaofu defenseless. Kuvira had taken most of the troops from Zaofu, thus making it vulnerable to attack.

Another phone call interrupted her thoughts and she picked it up.

“Hey where are you? We have a test this morning for the next model,” Asami’s voice rang through the receiver. Hiro groaned.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll be right there,” she croaked out. Her throat felt dry.

“You don’t sound okay, are you sick?”

“No, just got some news this morning,” Hiro reassured. She ran a hand through her short hair, pausing before continuing her train of thought. “Hey, I’ll explain more when I get there, but I need to take some time off.”

“Oh. I mean that’s fine, but is everything okay?” Asami asked, sounding worried.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll explain more when I get there, but I’m gonna be out of the city for a bit.”

It wouldn’t make the past disappear, but it’d be a step in the right direction to help the city she left behind.

Maybe it was finally time to go back home.

---

Kuvira stared out the window as the tops of the metal domes of Zaofu began to come into view. She thinks back to when she first approached the city when she was a child when her parents dropped her off with Suyin because of her destructive behavior. In reality, she was still only a child. She remembers how much she resented Suyin and her family when she first came to Zaofu, the feeling of being unwanted and outcast gnawing away at her. Eventually, she grew accustomed to the Metal Clan and even considered it her home in a way. But there was always a part of her that didn’t feel like she belonged. At the end of the day, she wasn’t a Beifong. Even though she was a Metal Clan citizen, she wasn’t actually from there. She was Kuvira, a girl left on her own in a big world to fend for herself.

She hears footsteps come up to her, but her gaze doesn’t leave the domes.

“Kuvira, we’re approaching Zaofu. We should be there within the next day or two,” Baatar reported.

“Thank you Baatar.” She feels his arms wrap around her midsection. She leans back on him, letting him take her weight. She didn’t let Baatar show too much affection in public, it wasn’t a good image to project on the new empire. But they were alone in this train car, so she let them have a brief moment of intimacy.

“We’re finally going home,” he sighs. He looks out over her head at the metal domes he also grew up surrounded by. She doesn’t point out how it was a different feeling of home they felt. “It feels like yesterday we just left.”

“Indeed,” Kuvira answers, still partially lost in her memories. All of those fights with the other Beifong siblings slowly crept up in her mind. She smirked at the thought of seeing their shocked faces when she showed up at their front door. “We’ve done a lot of work. I’m proud of where we’ve come.” Baatar takes her by the shoulders and turns her around so she’s facing him. His hands gently rub her shoulders, trying to ease the tension around the muscle. Nowadays, she was never relaxed. She told herself she’ll relax once the entire kingdom is reunited under her rule. His face is broken out into a large grin.

“I know you said we shouldn’t be celebrating so soon, but I can’t help it.” He leans down and kisses her forehead, lingering there. “Our dreams are coming true.”

She smiled slightly before turning back around to look out the windows. She knew how eager her fiance could be. But she knew better than to celebrate early. There could still be many things that could go wrong and she knew Zaofu wouldn’t be easy to conquer. She had an obligation to her people to reunite all of the Earth Kingdom. She had an obligation to herself to return to Zaofu as a winner. She couldn’t let Suyin win because in her mind, if she let Suyin and Zaofu go, Kuvira would never live down that shame. There would always be a part of her that itched for it, the need to have full control. And Suyin would never be a complacent leader, even if Kuvira left Zaofu alone. It would always be a thorn in her side, until she knew she had it.

While she was stressed, she knew Baatar was eager to return for other reasons. Every night he discussed another aspect of their upcoming wedding with fervor. Kuvira had more things to focus on, so she let Baatar do most of the planning which he didn’t put up a fight about. It didn’t surprise her anymore that Baatar was always eager to please her. It was something she found endearing to watch.

In the reflection of the window, her eyes met Baatar’s as the domes grew larger in the distance. Below them, they could see the dark green tanks and soldiers rolling up towards the massive metal structure.

“Welcome home, Kuvira.”

---

Hiro kept her head downcast towards her lap the entire train ride to Zaofu. Getting off the newly remodeled train, she stepped off the bronze train and on to the sleek metal platform. The air was different than Republic City; clear and crisp on the open air platform as a few passengers got off. Hiro walked to the transport station that would take her straight to the center of Zaofu and at the gates of the Beifong estate.

After over three years, she couldn’t believe she was returning. The city seemed to have only gotten shinier and larger since her departure. Although things had noticeably changed, she felt at ease in her surroundings. Zaofu was just built differently than the rest of the world; there was a constant buzz of electricity in the air that made Hiro feel at peace. The city was also surrounded by looming mountains, creating its own pocket in the world. While someone else might feel claustrophobic or overwhelmed, it made Hiro feel right at home.

But she couldn’t swallow the anxious bubble building in her stomach as she got closer to the Beifong estate. She let herself observe Zaofu and old memories pop up. From her seat at the window, she saw figures already standing there waiting on the platform for her stop. It was getting darker out now and the domes have already closed for the night. Hiro was lucky to get on one of the last transport stations and she was the last one in her car. Upon closer inspection she realized it was Baatar Sr. waiting there.

Her face broke up in a wide grin. She worked with Baatar Sr on many projects. Suyin was her mentor, guiding her in life and shaping her up to be the best version of herself that she could be. But Baatar Sr was her boss and she learned a lot of trade skills from the architect. Sometimes his inventions overlapped her department in security and they’d brainstorm together, testing his latest creations. Baatar Sr was one of the most intelligent men that Hiro’s ever met and someone she had the utmost respect for.

“Hiro.” Immediately Baatar Sr wrapped Hiro in a big hug. After a moment of initial shock, she hugged him back. Besides his salt and pepper hair, he hadn’t changed one bit. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“You too, Baatar. I’ve missed you, and Zaofu,” Hiro admitted. It was the first time she ever admitted out loud that she missed home. And saying those words made her realize just how nostalgic she had been. “Where’s Suyin?”

“She’s inside waiting. It seems that we’ve received a message from Kuvira.” Hiro was surprised.

“I thought Kuvira wasn’t coming for another few days?” Hiro asked. Baatar Sr frowned and shook his head.

“I’m afraid we underestimated her. Her army has marched here and are outside the gates right now,” he murmured. “We’re going to hear her out in the morning, but I’ve been working this whole day in preparation.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach. No. She was too late. For a split second Hiro thought about running back on the transport and going back to Republic City. Even though she told Asami about what was happening and got on the quickest train to Zaofu, it wasn’t enough. Kuvira was here and with an army. There was no use. No one else was coming and Zaofu was going to be taken just like the rest of the Earth Kingdom.

But then Hiro looked around her. The tall sleek metal buildings jutted out around her and the metal dome encased them in a bubble of protection. The memories from earlier came back and she realized how quiet everything was. These people didn’t deserve to be conquered. They were safe and living their lives here. It was their home; It was her home. She was tired of running, of avoiding responsibility. She may never forgive herself for leaving Suyin, but she wasn’t going to let anyone down this time. This newfound confidence drove down her fears and anxiety about herself. She couldn’t wallow anymore. She had three years to let the guilt eat her up, but now she was going to act. She was going to protect Zaofu, at any cost.

“Well that means I need to get to work,” Hiro said. Upon Baatar Sr’s surprised expression, she continued. “If I’m going to help, I’ll need you to catch me up.” Baatar gave a short nod and a smile, leading her inside.

---

“I’m not giving up Zaofu. I don’t care if you’ve brought your entire army!”

“Su I didn’t bring my army to threaten you. I wanted to show all what your son and I have accomplished.” Kuvira genuinely didn’t want to come into this meeting with ill intentions. She wanted to attempt to reconnect with Su and get her to join peacefully. Of course she knew Su was going to be difficult. Bringing Baatar Jr. and Bolin were her ways of trying to relate with the Beifongs. If she had any chance of getting Zaofu peacefully, this was the only way.

But as she looked around the room, it didn’t seem like that was going to be the case.

“You must realize what you’re doing is going against everything your father and I tried to teach you.”

“Son you belong here.”

Kuvira didn’t react, but inside she was seething. Even now, after all that she’s done they still didn’t take her seriously. They didn’t respect her or what she was doing. She should’ve known that all Su would care about is Baatar Jr’s wellbeing. They had no idea how difficult these past few years had been. She was the one who had to bring Zaofu soldiers together to go to Ba Sing Se, and she had to lead them around the Earth Kingdom these three years.

And everything she did, Baatar was behind her every step of the way. He was just to blame for everything as Kuvira was, in her mind. “Why? So that I can go on living in your shadow?”

“Don’t say that. Can’t you see she’s brainwashed you?”

“Ha!” she couldn’t help herself. “I didn’t brainwash him. I set him free. And now he’s accomplished more with me than he ever could’ve with you.” She did a lot of things, but she didn’t brainwash her people. And it wasn’t wrong, Baatar never would’ve accomplished anything substantial within Zaofu. Just like the rest of Zaofu; all this cultivated talent is wasted here for the Beifongs. The world needed to experience a fraction of what Zaofu had, and it wasn’t fair for Su to keep it all hidden away in this pocket world.

Kuvira zoned out as Bolin tried to ‘sell’ the Beifongs on the Earth Empire. It was his turn now, seeing as Baatar was only antagonizing his family further. Being in this room brought back a lot of old memories for her. And standing around people she grew up with who were supposed to be her family left a bitter taste in her mouth. All those years growing up around rich children in the same house, but realizing she would never be accepted by them. Especially Opal. They had the rockiest relationship growing up together. They would constantly get into fights when they were little over the most trivial things. Suyin always reassured her that Opal would come around to having a sister. It never happened though and as they got older, they ended up walking the same hallways as strangers. It didn’t bother Kuvira. At least she wouldn’t admit it did. She was supposed to be my sister, instead I was her burden. I was a burden for all of them. “Hiro? You’re here too?” Bolin asked, bewildered. Kuvira whirled around and sure enough Hiro was there standing in the middle of the hallway, dumbfounded. She was on her way back to the lab, when her curiosity grew upon hearing shouting coming from Suyin’s office. “Well...this is kind of awkward.” “Sorry for interrupting,” Hiro stuttered out, backing away from the door.

“No Hiro, stay,” Su commanded. “You were smart enough to leave them, please tell Baatar what he’s doing is wrong.”

“Mother how many times do I have to tell you, there is nothing wrong with me!” Baatar argued. Kuvira put a hand on his shoulder before handing him a stack of papers. They were the terms for Zaofu to join the Earth Empire.

“We’ll give you all some family time to talk things through. You have twenty-four hours to join the Empire, or we take the city by force,” Kuvira said matter of factly. She turned to Baatar. “Meet me at the transport station when you’re ready. And please,” she takes one last look around the room, “take all the time you need. Come, Bolin.”

And with that she walked out of Suyin’s office, closing the office doors behind her. Bolin trailed after her, a worried look on his face, but he kept quiet. Now it was only the three of them in the hallway and the silence was deafening.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Kuvira admitted. Hiro glared at her, not budging in her stance.

“Same here. I didn’t think you’d ever want to come back to Zaofu.”

The tension between them was high and Bolin began to shift uncomfortably from behind Kuvira.

“I’m gonna...head back on my own, if that’s okay!” he quickly added on to the end. Kuvira gave him a curt nod and he was bolting down the hallway towards the exit. It was followed by another short pause and both women watched each other very carefully.

Kuvira had gotten a good look at Hiro back in Republic City, but now dressed in casual slacks and a short sleeve shirt, she couldn’t help noticing how well they fit Hiro. She was never the type for business casual attire, more so preferring her overalls and work boots. And Kuvira could also tell that she seemed tired. The bags were clear under her eyes as well as how her face seemed riddled with fatigue. Her short hair was held back by a bandana she tied around, but it was coming undone.

“Well...it seems that Suyin has accepted you back,” Kuvira said carefully. “You must be right at home.” “I’m only here to do work,” Hiro answered. “I’m protecting everyone from you .”

Kuvira smiled and crossed her arms.

“Me? What, because I brought reinforcements as a back up plan? It wouldn’t be wise of me to come unarmed to an armored nation like Zaofu, would it?” she teased. It only made Hiro clench her fists in irritation and Kuvira noticed. Maybe she could have some fun with the young woman. “Plus, if I knew you were here, I would’ve worn my nicer uniform.”

Hiro choked on her breath. Was that flirting she sensed? And sure enough Kuvira had a shit eating smirk on her lips, amused at Hiro’s flustered state.

“Quit playing your games. They won’t work on me.”

“I’m not playing any games. You all make me out to be the villain, but I’m just trying to help everyone,” Kuvira shrugged. She takes a step closer to Hiro, backing her into the wall. She could see the wavering in Hiro’s eyes and she submitted under Kuvira’s green piercing eyes. “I meant what I said. You will join me, one way or another.” If Hiro lost focus, she could swear she could feel Kuvira’s hot breath fan her face.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think the Great Uniter was obsessed with me,” Hiro shot back. “Trouble with Baatar? Or are you just bored of using him?”

“Baatar is a grown adult. He can make his own decisions. He doesn’t need me or his mother to tell him what to think,” Kuvira defends.

“I’m sure you persuaded him in your own manipulative way,” Hiro spat. Kuvira sighed, taking a deep breath to control her anger. She didn’t want to have an all out brawl in the middle of Su’s house. Especially since it looked like they would be getting nowhere the peaceful route.

“It was three years ago,” Kuvira affirmed.

“Yeah well, I never forgot.” Hiro closed her mouth immediately, clearly not meaning for those words to slip out. It was too late though, the truth was out. I never forgot about us. It made Kuvira pause. Hiro’s shoulders sagged and for a moment let her guard fall. “You might’ve forgotten, or maybe you don’t care, but just because it was years ago, it doesn’t change how you hurt me.”

Kuvira could only stare blankly at Hiro and take a step back, clearly not expecting that kind of reaction from Hiro. She’s seen Hiro at her highest and lowest points. How when she got very excited or passionate about something, she would bounce on her heels in child-like wonder. Or how when she was sad she would curl into herself and get even more impossibly quiet than usual. But this was a different type of low. She said her words with defeat laced through it and broke her gaze from Kuvira, as if ashamed.

“I didn’t forget.” And it was true. How could Kuvira forget about Hiro? How could she forget about her first love, who looked so small in front of her now. “I meant what I said. We grew apart, we wanted different things. There was a lot going on and I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done. I never wanted to hurt you.” I thought it was going to end up with you.

The thought crossed Kuvira’s mind so fast that it startled her and she needed to take another step away from Hiro. She hadn’t had thoughts like that in a long time. They came often when Hiro first left, but she thought they had all gone away. That all the past feelings towards the other woman had faded and been replaced with her love for her country and Baatar. And Kuvira quickly forced herself to push down the doubt that crept up. She couldn’t have thoughts like that. She was with Baatar, and they were so close. She couldn’t ruin it all now with stupid old feelings.

Hiro hesitantly glanced up at Kuvira before brushing past her to walk down the rest of the hallway. Her eyes trailed after her and as Hiro retreated further down the hallway, Kuvira’s racing thoughts also subsided.

---

That night Hiro kept busy at the workstation, trying to find any holes she might’ve missed in Baatar’s schematics. Documents littered around the tables in a unusual mess. She wasn’t messy, but now with the time ticking she could only feel flustered. She slides out a keyboard from one of the machines and starts typing new codes and programs into it, double checking work she knows she’s already looked at. She can’t help it. Suyin and the twins had left, and she was anxiously waiting for them to return. It had been a few hours, and she reassured she would be back by the morning. But Hiro definitely couldn’t sleep, so instead she worked.

A bead of sweat dripped down as she realized she needed to go to one of the domes and check the mechanics herself. As soon as Baatar brought her to the estate, she got right to work. She worked nearly all of last night and all day after the meeting with Kuvira. She brushed away any time Baatar asked if she wanted a break. She needed to correct her mistakes, and there was no time left. She needed to focus on making sure Zaofu would be protected and use every second she had to save it.

Hiro made her way outside and towards the edge where the dome was. The construction was a marvel to her, and to make it more safe seemed impossible. Baatar’s design was nearly flawless.

Then she remembered who the enemy was and she started climbing up the ladder, tool belt strapped around her waist. She was so focused she didn’t notice Korra walking up and climbing alongside her.

“Hey, need a hand?” Hiro was shocked, but recovered, gripping her tools tightly. Down below near the house, Baatar was seated on the steps lost in thought. He paused working when Su left, too overcome with anxiety to even try to work. Jinora and Opal were arguing not far away about what to do. Hiro felt bad for Opal. She was close with her mom, so it only made sense she wanted to help. But from what Hiro knows about airbenders, it was highly inappropriate to incite violence.

“I’m okay, thank you though,” Hiro responded. Korra nodded, but stayed on the platform as Hiro opened a panel of wires. She began working on them diligently.

“So...I wanted to ask you. What should I be worried about with Kuvira?”

Hiro was so surprised she almost electrocuted herself on two wires.

“W-What?” Hiro stuttered.

“I mean, Su told me about you two,” Korra started. Hiro paused momentarily in her work, but her eyes trained on the wires before her. “You seem to know her pretty well. Is there anything you can tell me about her?”

“Why do you want to know? Aren’t you trying to take her down?” The lump settled in Hiro’s abdomen at her own words.

“I talked to her today. And I’m having doubts. Kuvira seems like she really cares about doing the right thing,” Korra reasoned. Hiro snorted, shaking her head and going back to her wires.

“Well that’s your first mistake,” Hiro spat. It caught Korra out of her thoughts. “Don’t underestimate Kuvira. She’s a master manipulator. She knows how to act sympathetic to get what she wants, but the second she doesn’t get what she wants,” two of the wires sparked wildly in her hands and Korra flinched, “she destroys it.”

Korra kept quiet, letting Hiro’s thoughts settle in. Hiro didn’t stop working until she was done and putting the panel back in its place.

“If you really want my advice, I’d say to get it over with,” Hiro confessed, the harsh reality settling into her shoulders. At this point she hardly noticed Korra there. After these past few weeks, she hated admitting it. She knew Su confidently wanted Kuvira destroyed, but Hiro held out hope that Kuvira was redeemable. “Believe me, Avatar Korra, it isn’t something that’s easy for me to admit. And you also have to believe me when I say, Kuvira had good intentions at first. Part of me truly believes that there’s still some good in her. I mean fuck, I was engaged to her. But maybe Suyin was right, maybe this is the only option.”

Before Korra can answer the crackling of the loudspeaker rang out around them.

“Attention citizens of Zaofu. Your leader, Su Beifong, attempted to attack me tonight while I slept, ignoring the terms of our truce. Luckily, I now have her and her assault team in custody.” It was Kuvira’s voice echoing throughout the night. Hiro’s eyes widened and she turned to Korra, who was also shocked at the news. “Rest assured that I will not take revenge on the peaceful citizens of Zaofu, unless your remaining representatives meet me outside the city at dawn to offer the full and unconditional surrender of your city. That is all.”

The loudspeaker cut out and they heard Opal calling for Korra’s name on the ground. Both of them clamored down the ladder to the other three at the steps.

“Korra! Korra, you can't let Kuvira get away with this! We have to go break out Mom and my brothers!” Opal pleaded.

“I agree. There’s no telling what Kuvira will do to them,” Hiro chimed.

“What you need is sleep ,” Baatar commanded from next to her. His voice made Hiro jump. He had been so quiet ever since Su and the twins left that it surprised her.

“But-”

“No,” he firmly said, gripping both of her shoulders. “You’ve worked nonstop ever since you got here last night. You need to rest. That’s an order.”

Hiro sighed, but knew better than to argue. And now that he had mentioned it, Hiro could feel her body calling out for a bed.

“I’ll wake you up tomorrow once everyone is home safe,” Baatar reassured. Hiro bit the inside of her cheek anxiously. Korra put a hand on her shoulder and she turned to face the Avatar.

“Jinora, Opal, and I will go talk to Kuvira at dawn, and, maybe, we can work something out. I promise, I'll do everything I can to keep the peace,” Korra comforted. Hiro nodded hesitantly before heading into the house, walking past Huan, Meelo and Ikki as she did.

She didn’t even have time to process her anxiety because as soon as she hit her bed, she knocked out right away.

---

Kuvira was enjoying herself more than she thought she would. She’s been planning on the Avatar’s return, but didn’t expect her to be so weak. Granted, Korra looked like shit in Kuvira’s opinion, with the peasant Earth Kingdom attire and frizzy hair. This definitely wasn’t the same Avatar she saved all those years ago in Zaofu from the Red Lotus. No, the girl in front of her now was sloppy and tried to fight with guttural strength than actual tact or thought.

Kuvira was always a gifted fighter. It’s how she moved up ranks with Suyin’s guards so quickly. She was one of the youngest guards ever to be promoted Captain in Zaofu and was wildly talented from a young age. Some even considered her one of the best metal benders of her time. She dedicated a lot of her youth to training and improving her gifted skillset. Although she trained under Suyin, who studied a more progressive and newer form of bending, Kuvira spent a lot of time studying old techniques as well. She kept herself grounded and alert, while also making sure to have complete awareness and control of her surroundings.

Not one foot out of line. Not one rock out of place. It was all about control.

For her, she expected more from Korra. Even with all four elements at her disposal, she could still barely land a decent hit on the Great Uniter. It was sad to watch really, but for Kuvira, it just drove her ego up. Here she was sparring with the Avatar, master of all four elements, and she barely broke a sweat.

Dare she say it, she was having fun.

“Come on, Avatar, get up! Show me what you've got!” she challenged smugly.

“No! Stay back!” Korra groaned, directing her attention to Opal standing behind Kuvira. “I can handle this.”

It made her even more confident knowing Opal was behind her, unable to help the Avatar. Who’s powerless now?

Kuvira got back in her fighting stance, eager for more. This is what got her blood pumping. This was what she was always good at. And she finally had an opponent worthy enough for her full strength as a metalbender.

Korra sent a fire punch right at Kuvira’s head, who dodged and countered the attack. Her body moved fluidly as she bent the ground at Korra’s feet, turning her around and putting her off balance. Korra counters and tries bending a chunk of earth back at Kuvira, but is met with a metal plate around her ankle. Kuvira throws her like a rag doll midair and to the ground a few yards away. She can hear her soldiers cheering after her.

“You have to go into the Avatar State! Do it !” Suyin commands from her platinum prison.

Kuvira is already lunging towards Korra, when she sees her eyes glow white and is propelled back by a gust of wind. The blast knocks the breath out of her and she groans, skidding across the earth and trying to regain her footing. Korra who’s now in the Avatar state is much quicker now and leaps towards Kuvira, landing right in front of her before sending another gust to push her back even further.

Kuvira is thrown back across the ground, her body groaning in pain from the sudden force. She feels her hair come out from its neat bun. It takes her a moment to make out her blurry vision, but when it clears, she looks up and sees Korra risen from the ground in an air spout. A giant boulder above her is about to crush her and Kuvira braces for the impact. Everything is moving too fast and the boulder is too big even for her to counter.

This was it. This was going to be her end

Suddenly, Korra fell out of the Avatar state, the boulder falling hopelessly next to her as Kuvira got on her feet. Korra had just tried to kill her under Suyin’s command. There was no turning back from that. It was now or never.

“I knew you were weak.” Kuvira shoots out two more metal bands and suspends Korra in the air by her wrists as she is getting ready for another attack. She smiles wickedly and sends Korra straight to the ground and trapping all but her head in a mound of earth. Kuvira stalks up to her, still trying to regain her breath as she releases six metal cuffs from her uniform. She bends them each to have a razor’s edge. This was it. This will show everyone that she should be taken seriously. That it wasn’t the monarchy or some stupid prince who saved the Earth Kingdom. It was all her. And she was going to make an example of Korra to begin the new era of her rule of the Earth Empire. I will prove to them that I will not be pushed around.

As she gets ready to end it, a squall of air sends her flying back towards her army. She grunts as she lands harshly on her back and two of her soldiers help her to her feet. Her eyes land on the airbenders and she scowls.

“You broke our agreement! Attack!”

---

Hours passed, but Hiro didn’t even feel like she slept an hour. When she woke up the sun was up and shining through the window of the guest room. Dawn. It was way past dawn now.

She flung herself out of bed, realizing that Baatar never came to get her. Which only meant that Su and the twins never returned. Her heart was racing as she sprinted down the empty hallways, trying to find someone. Zaofu was unusually quiet this morning, which only made her nausea grow.

Hiro burst through the main doors and saw Ikki and Meelo flying on to Pepper, the flying bison. Baatar Sr and Huan were also there, opening the dome for them to fly out of.

“Wait! Let me go with you!” Hiro shouted. Everyone was surprised. She had only been asleep for a few hours and no one was planning on waking her for a while.

“Uh no can do m’am. We’re going over enemy lines,” Meelo huffed. Ikki had the reins in her hands and was ready to take off. The motion drove Hiro to a panic.

“Please, I can help!” Hiro tried to push her way towards them, but Baatar held her back.

“You can’t leave Hiro, it’s too dangerous,” Baatar Sr said worriedly. “You need to stay here in Zaofu with us, you can’t risk getting captured. We can still save Zaofu.”

“No! We can’t.” His eyes widened at Hiro’s confession. Zaofu was a lost cause. They were going to be sitting here waiting to be taken by Kuvira. There was nothing left here for Hiro to do. She wet her lips and looked him dead in the eye. “Listen, I think...I think I can talk to her.”

“What?”

“Call me crazy, but I think I can get through to Kuvira.” “What do you mean?” Ikki inquired, her attention piquing at Hiro’s confession. “I don’t know exactly. But yesterday, she said something to me. I can save everyone if I can just sit down and talk to her.” She left out the part about Kuvira’s fixation on Hiro joining the Empire. She knew she could use herself as leverage if it came down to it.

But there was also something else on her mind ever since her conversation with Korra last night. Kuvira was power hungry and letting the control get to her. However their interaction yesterday showed a bit of humanity from Kuvira and Hiro couldn’t put a finger on the anxious feeling she had until now.

There was hope. Suyin was wrong. There was something still redeemable in Kuvira. It was small and Hiro could barely make it out, but when she looked into Kuvira’s eyes yesterday, she swore she could see it. Fear . And fear meant that Kuvira was holding something back: a weakness. If Hiro could find Kuvira’s weakness, then maybe, maybe , she could save the Earth Kingdom. And possibly even save Kuvira from herself.

Ikki and Meelo exchanged concerned looks before Ikki turned to her.

“Hurry, hop on.” Hiro did as she was instructed and climbed on to Pepper. She looked down at Baatar and Huan with sadness in her eyes. She could see how grief stricken Baatar was. Huan was all that was left of their children. That look he gave her of utter defeat, made her solidify her decision. She may not have been able to save Zaofu, but she was going to save everyone. Even if that meant throwing herself in front of her dictator ex-fiance to do it.

---

Chaos ensued. Opal and Jinora tried to keep a steady tornado to push the army back. They were able to throw back the front lines and keep them from advancing. Kuvira struggles against the wind, but manages to gain her footing enough to shoot two metal plates out at Opal, successfully handcuffing her wrists together. Opal falls to the ground in surprise at her new restraints.

“Opal!” Jinora only has time to react before she’s also restrained by Kuvira’s metal bands. The army behind her is still struggling to get back in formation when Kuvira walks up to the three of them. Her hair is an utter mess now, but she couldn’t care less. She leers down at the airbenders with distaste.

“I have to say, you both are strong to keep my army back, but not strong enough,” she taunts.

“Dive Pepper, dive!” Kuvira turns her attention above to the flying bison coming down. On it she sees two airbenders and… “Hiro?”

It comes out in a whisper and she shakes her head, focusing on the three captured before her. She releases more sharp metal from her uniform, directing them on Jinora, Opal and Korra. Her attention is drawn to Korra, who seems to be coming from her earth prison.

“Any closer and I take them out, right now,” Kuvira threatened. Ikki gripped the reins tighter on Pepper, causing them to stop midair. Below them the army was almost all put together again, getting ready to storm Zaofu and the three prisoners. “Hold, we don’t want to aggravate the air nation,” she turns her attention to the people on the bison, “These two interfered during a peace treaty, therefore considered terrorists to the Earth Empire. They will be taken and punished accordingly.”

Hiro looked on in horror between Meelo and Ikki. They were two kids, and even though they knew how to kick ass, this was beyond them. She could see them struggling with what to do. On one hand if they tried saving Jinora, Opal and Korra, Kuvira could kill them in an instant. But they couldn’t just fly back from their mission without Korra and their sister. It was a choice that needed to be made and Hiro only had a second to think before reacting herself.

“Kuvira!”

---

“Kuvira! Please stop this!” Hiro begged. Kuvira barely glanced at her, ready to turn around and leave the Avatar and airbenders for her soldiers to take care of. She needed to head into Zaofu herself if she wanted to claim a true victory. “If you let them go, I’ll go with you willingly!”

That made Kuvira hesitate. Hiro now had her full attention and Hiro noticed. The army around them were antsy, the tension in the air was bursting at the seams. Kuvira knew Hiro could only get a few words in before everything fell apart.

“Now why would I want that?” Kuvira teased.

“You know I created the best security systems for Zaofu and for you back in Ba Sing Se. I know how the security systems work and how to make them better, better than Baatar or Varrick. I could take the Earth Empire to newer heights than you could’ve ever imagined.” The words spilled out of Hiro so fast she had to gasp at the end to catch her breath as she heaved. All four airbenders looked on at her in shock and Korra had just regained consciousness at Hiro’s speech. She didn’t take her eyes off of Kuvira for a second though.

Kuvira was impressed. Sure she could easily take Hiro forcibly right now and take that sky bison and Airbenders with them for interfering with international affairs. But Kuvira also needed to think of the bigger picture. If she was going to continue ruling the Earth Empire, she had to show at least some compassion as a leader. Already people were saying she was too harsh and cruel of a ruler to the Earth citizens. She used her military strength as a weapon often to get what she wanted. It was easy to make people obey when they were put in tight positions.

But she already wasn’t popular with the United Republic. It didn’t let Kuvira go by that she had air benders in her clutches. It wouldn’t be good to have a second large enemy like the Air Nation, especially after seeing their strength with only two of them. No, Kuvira was going to be smart about this and as diplomatic as she could be.

“Hiro, no!” Suyin cried, but she was ignored. Hiro motioned for Ikki to land Pepper, who did so hesitantly. Kuvira didn’t react at first, but simply watched as Hiro climbed down from the bison and held both arms up in surrender.

“You’ve got a deal. The Avatar and airbenders are free to go.” Kuvira returns all her metal razors back to her uniform and unbends the earth from Korra who fell to the ground immediately. Jinora and Opal rushed to her side, trying to get her on Pepper as quickly as possible.

Hiro’s eyes widened.

“What about Suyin, Wing and Wei?” Her eyes traveled nervously to the trio in their platinum boxes. They had been stunned by her appearance into silence, unable to even think of words to react to what was happening.

“It’d be foolish of me to let go the previous leader of Zaofu who has been trying to overthrow my empire, go. And her assault team who tried to attack me in the middle of the night while I was asleep. They stay, and that’s final.” Kuvira motioned for her soldiers to advance on to Hiro. Two of them flanked her as she walked towards Kuvira. “I have no issues with the Air Nation or the Avatar. She wanted to fight me, so we did, and the airbenders attacked me during a truce. I think I’m being more than fair here.”

“Cut the bullshit. You knew what you were doing.” Kuvira’s lip quirked upwards before turning back to the sky bison and the individuals on it, looking on in horror.

“You might want to get going,” she instructed. “Make sure to tell Master Tenzin and President Raiko, that this was a gift from me. Don’t take it for granted.” She gave an extra devious smile to Opal who could only glare down back at her as the bison took off into the air. She turned to her army still anxiously waiting for their next orders. Kuvira thrusts her arm in the air in victory a wide smile embellished on her lips.

“Zaofu is ours!” The army cheers alongside as the dust clears from the airbender’s tornado. She turns to Hiro who has been led to stand directly in front of her now. She’s still on her high as she looks at the other metalbender triumphantly. “Oh Hiro. It’s good to be home.”

---

“I think Su should do something about this.” Kuvira had her head upside down and was drying her hair vigorously with a towel. “What do you mean?” she asked groggily, sleepy from their bath. She lay cuddled on her side of the bed, waiting for Kuvira. “The Earth Kingdom is in ruins. Master Tenzin and President Raiko are coming tomorrow and I’m assuming it’s to ask Suyin for help.” Hiro nodded, listening carefully. Kuvira had been keeping up with the news closely from around the Earth Kingdom. The only province that wasn’t thrown in chaos was Zaofu and technically they were a separate entity from the rest of the nation. It seemed like everyday they were getting more distress messages from neighboring villages and towns asking for food and resources. They tried their best, but could only do so much given the circumstances. Bandits had sprung up and were invading smaller towns and the kingdom seemed to have fallen overnight. It seemed like no matter how many messages or pleas they got, Suyin stayed neutral much to Kuvira’s annoyance.

“Things are rough out there. We’re lucky we’re safe here, in Zaofu.” Kuvira snorted at Hiro’s quite ignorant response. She flipped her head back and let her hair cascaded down her back. It was still quite damp, but she couldn’t be bothered. It was always such a bitch to dry. Maybe Hiro was right...she did need a haircut. “But does that bother you? We’re lucky but what about everyone else?” Kuvira threw the towel in a laundry bin before climbing into bed next to Hiro. She lay facing the other girl, who was looking at her curiously.

“Why is this on your mind so much?” Hiro inquired.

“I don’t know. Maybe I don’t like seeing people hurting when I know we could be doing something...that I could be helping them.”

“It doesn’t always have to be about you darling,” Hiro sighed. She reached over and squeezed Kuvira’s shoulder. She was careful though, knowing it was still sore. Her thick eyebrows knit in confusion.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that you don’t need to always be at the front of the fight. You already do so much for us, for the Metal Clan. Isn’t that enough?” “But there’s a whole country of people out there starving and dying!” Hiro was surprised when Kuvira raised her voice. “All Suyin and the Metal Clan do is protect their own.” Hiro caught the tone of bitterness in her voice.

“Why are you getting mad at me for this?” she asked carefully. “I’m not!” Kuvira tugged away, making Hiro’s hand drop between them. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. “Well it seems like you are!” Hiro huffed. She leaned up on an elbow, trying to make Kuvira look at her, but her eyes were glued to the ceiling. She was trying to search it for the answers. There just had to be something more to life than just sitting in Zaofu. It seemed like this was something calling for her to do.

“You should be upset. This isn’t about you or me or Zaofu. It’s...it’s about everyone.” The realization was clear in her voice as she struggled to pull her thoughts together. It had been weighing on her mind now, this feeling of dissatisfaction and guilt building inside her. Who was she to be living comfy when the rest of the world was suffering? “And from what it seems, the Avatar is out of commission for who knows how long.”

Everyone knew that Avatar Korra needed time to recover after the final battle with the Red Lotus. Kuvira had been on the front lines for that fight. She saw the beating that Korra took from Zaheer and his team. Rumors are that she’s gone back home to the Southern Water Tribe to recover, probably with the help of Katara. Who knows when she’d be well enough to return to her Avatar duties? Or if she even realizes how the rest of the world is falling apart without her? Kuvira didn’t blame her, but without the Avatar or any real leadership, someone needed to step up.

“So that’s what you think? You’re trying to be the Avatar and take on the responsibility of the world now?” Hiro asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Is that wrong? I don’t see you doing anything to help.”

“Because it’s not my job. My life is here with you in Zaofu and the technology I work with everyday. Being with you is enough for me,” Hiro sighed. Clearly annoyed, she turned on her side with her back facing Kuvira. But her ears perked up to Hiro’s words and now she was the one sat up and staring at her partner’s back.

“What does that mean?” The familiarity of the conversation shifted and Kuvira clenched her jaw, knowing what was coming next. “I’m not doing this again.”

“No you already started, so say it,” she urged.

Hiro exhaled, already regretting opening this can of problems once again. She sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. She stayed seated on the edge of the bed with her back to Kuvira.

“You just can’t sit still Kuvira.” Hiro’s voice was laced with disappointment, which made Kuvira’s heart sink. The last thing she wanted was Hiro to be disappointed in her, her biggest advocate. “I love how passionate you are, about your people and your job, but it’s hard to keep up with. I’m not you. I don’t move as fast or make quick spur of the moment decisions. It’s not easy for me. Sometimes it just feels like our life isn’t enough for you that you have to make up for it by doing reckless things.”

“Sorry it’s such a problem for you,” she bit back. She let the sadness creep into her voice and she could feel the anger bubbling down to her hands from her heart. “If I’m such a burden then why are you with me then?”

Hiro turned to look at her, face as hard as stone. She was wide awake now and pissed. Their gentle loving bath from earlier was completely erased from both of their minds.

“See! This is what I don’t want to do! You take something I say and take it to the extreme!” Hiro fell back on the bed and ran a hand over her face.

“You’ve said enough.” Kuvira pushed the covers off of her and headed towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

She didn’t respond, she just left their bedroom. Maybe she’d go to the gym and hit something or find a sizable rock to launch in the courtyard. Wherever she decided to go, it was better than being insulted by her own fiance.

#kuvira #kuvira fic #kuvira x oc #originally on ao3 #tlok #lok fanfic #legend of korra fic #kuvira x reader

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emachinescat · 3 years

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Night and Morning with My Tears

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 20 - betrayal

Summary: Takes place when Merlin is Morgana’s prisoner in "A Servant of Two Masters.” When Morgana looks into Merlin’s eyes, what she sees there surprises and angers her in equal measure. Merlin has no right to act betrayed, not when his betrayal was so much worse.

Characters: Morgana, Merlin

Words: 1,756

TW: None

Notes: Takes place during “A Master of Two Servants,” with flashbacks to “The Fires of Idirsholas,” so there will be spoilers for both of those episodes!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

I was angry with my friend:

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe:

I told it not, my wrath did grow.

- From “A Poison Tree” by William Blake

And I watered it in fears.

Night and morning with my tears:

And I sunned it with smiles.

And with soft deceitful wiles.

Morgana Pendragon stands before her prisoner, eyes cold and green like the deep forest. Despite her anger at her men for failing so miserably in their task, she cannot say that she is displeased to see Merlin again. Although the servant’s mere presence incites a furnace of rage within her, he could prove very useful in her plans to kill Arthur – and if she is able to play with him in the process, make him pay for what he did to her sister, then all the better.

Merlin hangs, unconscious, from his wrists. He is too tall for the stooping ceiling of her hovel, so his legs fold awkwardly beneath him. His chin rests against his chest, and he sports a nasty wound on one shoulder. She will probably end up healing it eventually, as infection is beginning to set in. She needs Merlin healthy for her plans for him. Still, she supposes she can let him suffer a bit before she takes on the task of cleaning the wound. Any amount of pain he endures will be nothing compared to what he has inflicted upon her, time and time again.

When she throws a cold bucket of water into his face, he wakes, coughing, and gasping; she smirks. When he regains his bearings and locks eyes with her, any satisfaction or pleasure she receives from his struggles melts away like candle wax under a flame. It has been a long time since she has looked into those very blue eyes from mere feet away, and what she finds in them is unsettling and unexpected – they are familiar, but foreign, and they stir up memories that she prefers to keep hidden, even from herself.

Stolen glances, conspiring winks, soft smiles. Fighting bandits in Ealdor, not out of duty, not for Camelot, but out of loyalty, for a friend. Defeating a clay monster, teasing Arthur, smuggling Mordred out of the citadel. This is a part of her life so disconnected from herself that she has all but convinced herself that it happened to someone else.

But a chilly fierceness has descended over his eyes like a veil, and it is as if she is looking at an entirely different person all together. Long ago, back before Morgana knew of her powers and heritage, when she was young and naive and living a life of luxury, Merlin had never failed to have a smile on his face. He spoke softly and kindly, and Morgana had loved the compassion for others she could sense in his gaze. That innocence has vanished, leaving him suspicious, cruel, and hard.

There is one emotion that Morgana detects in those blue eyes that causes a righteous fury to swell inside her like a summer tempest, tints her vision red and sends her hurtling back into her past, to the worst moment of her entire life, and she has to restrain herself from ending Merlin’s miserable existence then and there. Pace yourself, Morgana. You have use for him yet.

But it is a hard battle. Indignation seizes her heart and squeezes. How dare Merlin have the audacity to look betrayed when he looks back at her? How dare he act as if she is in the wrong, as if she is the one who has turned against her friends? Morgana has no friends, not anymore. She has no family. And she has Merlin to thank for that.

He has no right to act like she is betraying him by capturing him, holding him as her prisoner in the hovel he might as well have picked out for her. Morgana is the only one who has the right to feel betrayed – what she has planned for Merlin is nothing, nothing, compared to what he did to her.

***

Dying is strange, if you think about it. It is the one thing, other than being born, that unites all of humanity, all creatures. Two people may live out lives on opposite ends of the map, may never meet one another; one may be a king, the other a slave, one a scholar, the other a simpleton. And yet, someday, they both will die. Death unites us all, even as it tears us apart. The funny thing is, although everyone is plodding forward to the same destiny, only those who have walked the path to completion know what it is like. Death is the great equalizer, but no one who meets it can divulge its secret. It is at once the most common experience of mankind and its greatest secret.

Morgana came closer to discovering that secret than most people who have played the delicate strings of life and death when she was poisoned by a man she called her friend. Even now, when she recalls that moment when she realized that something was wrong – I can’t breathe, oh gods – her blood drains from her body and fear replaces it, cold and numbing and terrible. She remembers with complete clarity the feel of her throat swelling, can hear the rasp of her breath and see her vision becoming a vignette, dark around the edges, closing in, prowling ever closer.

Dying was bad enough. Dying of poison, feeling her body shut down, attack itself, turn on her, was hell. By far the worst part of Morgana’s death, however, was the moment she realized who was responsible. Her entire world came crashing down when her eyes, bulging from the panicked strain of trying to pull in breath where none existed, traveled from the discarded water-skin to the servant she called her friend. If she had doubted his involvement before, it was confirmed with the expression on his face. He reeked of regret and guilt; shame radiated off of him and contaminated the air around them.

Merlin had poisoned her. Merlin, the clumsy, goofy, kind-hearted, loyal servant of the prince, the man she had risked her life for more than once, who had treated her like a person instead of royalty, who had been her friend when she felt alone and afraid as her powers blossomed – Merlin was killing her. It was like she had been stabbed in the heart, that realization, and for a brief moment that could have been the rest of her life, that knowledge that she was dying at the hand of her friend hurt far more than her closing airway, than her lungs starved for air, than the pain and the fear and the darkness of death swooping ever closer.

She backed away, her limbs clumsy; they no longer belonged to her, only the living had use of them. Through pain-hazed vision, she watched as Merlin walked over, sat near her, saw his lips move without hearing his words, and then he was gathering her into his arms, holding her close, and she tried to fight, tried to call out, tried to escape, but – she was helpless.

He sat with her, held her, rocked her like she was a child, and she felt his face against the top of her head, felt warm tears hit her scalp, and she couldn’t breathe, her ears rang like tinny chimes and her vision flickered, her hands and feet tingled like she’d been sitting on them all day, and her chest wouldn’t move.

Oh gods.

The feel of his touch made her want to scream, burning vile fingerprints into her skin. She heard a terrible noise, a choking, garbled sound, and realized it was her. She tried to squirm away from him, from this disgusting facsimile of comfort, partially wondering what his game was, why he was acting like he cared about her, what he could possibly gain by holding her as she died of a poison he had administered. The other part of her knew that it didn’t matter, and resigned itself to the fact that the last touch she was going to feel before she died was that of the man who had killed her.

Her last few seconds of consciousness were comprised of pure terror; she floated in that empty space between life and death, felt everything and nothing, and was consumed by her fear and the overwhelming, blood-freezing understanding that she didn’t want to die. She had done nothing to deserve this; she had only been his friend. It didn’t matter that she didn’t wish for death, that she had plans for her life, that she could have made a difference, that she had a sister she was just getting to know and that she could do so much more. All control had been stripped away, any choice and free will had been stolen in an act of violence and betrayal that she simply could not understand.

Right before she gave in to the pain and the cold and the dark, she realized that she hated Merlin.

When she awoke, sometime later, to Morgause’s concerned brown eyes, not knowing how she could be alive but grateful nonetheless, that feeling of hatred hadn’t dimmed. In fact, it had grown, and it continued to fester, burrowing deep into her soul like a cherished tumor, one that she fed and nurtured, loved and despised in equal measure.

And she waited, knowing that a time would come to repay Merlin for the terrible sins he had committed against her, for taking the trust she had in him and crushing it beneath his ratty servant’s boot.

***

No, Merlin does not deserve to feel betrayed, to look at her through eyes tinted with hurt. He has no right to speak of loyalty, or friends. He pretends at being loyal to Arthur, but Morgana has seen his heart, has felt the rot inside of his soul, and knows that it is only a matter of time before he betrays his beloved king as well. Merlin is no mere servant – he is a hollow man, filled only with cruelty and hate, and sooner or later, he will destroy everything he loves.

Morgana is only helping that process along with the Fomorroh. She relishes the look of betrayal melting into fear. His wide eyes and hitched breath whisper comfort to her innermost hurts.

And when he screams, she smiles.

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irregularjohnnywiggins · 3 years

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Kay, so I found this old story idea I had a while back but never really did anything with, and I figured hey, I've got 300+ prisoners beloved followers who for some reason put up with my garbage, so might as well inflict this upon them.

That being said, welcome to what I call The Department for the Colonisation of Childhood Whimsey.

So our story starts with a little girl called Dee.

Dee lives in the UK, in a council estate. When she was a kid, there wasn't all that much space to play or do the things richer middle-class kids got to do. Her parents house didn't have a garden, the local streets were too dangerous for a child to go out and play in, and the house itself was cramped and crowded.

Despite this, Dee had what could charitably be called an overactive imagination, an imagination she channelled into two things: a plastic triceratops toy she called Sarah, and a book - a blank book of A4 paper that had coffee stains on it and papers falling out when she got it - that she claimed had a magical power: anything written in the book would come true.

Cut to a few years later. Dee is in high school, and like a typical teenager she's moved on from her childish dreams. That is, until one day when Sarah the triceratops approaches her after school and tells her she's in danger.

So, yeah, pretty basic beginning, you've probably seen fifty books that start out like this, and that's all I wrote back when I was actually trying to make this a thing. However, one thing I always do vis-a-vis my writing style is worldbuild, and it's the worldbuilding that I'm really keen on with this idea. So, let's talk about that:

The actual premise of the story is simple: at some point in the 1960s, the British government came to the conclusion that the British Empire was more or less doomed. Not only was the post-war economy not capable of sustaining an empire, not only was the Cold War between the Americans and the Russians ravaging them, but an increased awareness of the plight of one's fellow man was inspiring many people - not just in the colonies but in England too - to demand independence. No matter how hard they tried, Parliament could not forsee a solution that the people would accept where the British Empire continued.

So, a solution was posed. For the past hundred years or so, the government had been made aware of the existence of pockets of space-time created by people with active enough imaginations. From Neverland to Oz, from the Hundred Acre Wood to Wonderland, these places had resources beyond any place on Earth - magic, especially. If the public would not countenance colonisation where they could see it, then perhaps the solution would be to colonise somewhere they could not see?

Thus, the British Empire never really died. It simply... moved.

Cut to the present day, and the Department for the Colonisation of Childhood Whimsey is still going strong. Almost every parallel world is under their control, and the profits of these regions are beyond belief. However, rather naturally for stories like this there is a resistance movement, that seeks to free the imaginary lands from the Department. Although they are small and weak, they have had several worthwhile victories over the Department in the past few months, and the higher-ups in the Department, including the shadowy and little-seen Director, want all such resistance movements stamped out.

This, rather naturally, is where Dee steps in.

Every generation, one in a million people have the ability to shape the forces of Imagination itself, and the stories these people tell, and others tell after them, become reality in the Imaginarium. These people become known as Imagineers, and Dee is one such person. However, the lack of much real output for this power has led to most of it being placed inside The Book, which has led to a fascinating feedback loop - Dee's Book not only influences the Imaginarium, it influences physical reality itself to a certain extent. Thus, the Department need simply write in the book that the resistance movement does not exist, and it will be so. The resistance, naturally enough, are not down with this, and have sent Dee's childhood friend to bring her and the book back to them, to keep them safe.

There's also a ton of other small worldbuilding touches I came up with, chief among them being the thing the Department sends to collect Dee - a Stalker, the amalgamation of that seemingly universal childhood experience of that thing that followed your car on long journeys. But a couple of words on the characters:

The leader of the resistance is Peter Pan, because of course he is, why wouldn't he be? He's much more of the capricious, vaguely fae Pan of the book, not exactly evil but very much ammoral and childish. He's mainly invested in reclaiming Neverland, the Lost Boys, and Tinkerbell, although there is the subtext of him using the Department as an example of the inevitable consequences of growing up - although he's completely forgotten Hook, like he does in the book, he's still looking for that antagonistic relationship with a grown-up.

Peter's second-in-command and the one really running the resistance is Princess Ozma, who's much more... agreeable than Pan. Oz has been colonised too, but Ozma is still in nominal control of it, and she supplies the resistance with all the resources she can, although she can't openly work against the Department because the CIA branch of it has Dorothy imprisoned and are basically pulling a 'we have your wife' scenario on her.

The third key player in the resistance is Alice Liddel, who provides the resistance with shelter and safe passage - the Department has been having little success applying the logic of supply chains and regimented exterminations to a place as willfully chaotic as Wonderland.

The rest of the resistance are mainly heroic characters from other public domain stories, although some of the heroes are working for the Department, either willingly or because they're coerced, but one of the other main characters - and Dee's eventual love interest - is a character called many things, but most commonly Insert.

Insert is... complicated. Like the Stalker, they're an amalgamation of a certain new-fangled trend - namely, they're every self-insert character that's ever been written. Naturally, they have a habit of... changing, at random intervals. On any given day, they're any gender, of any ethnicity, of any sexual orientation, and with backstories ranging from an officer on a starship in the far future to a student at a school of magic in Scotland. Given literally everything about them is eternally mutable - including their allegiance to the resistance or the Department - the resistance members treat them with some distrust, a distrust that Dee generally doesn't share. Their relationship is pretty rocky at first - Dee thinks Insert is only interested in her because she can use The Book to give them a concrete identity, Insert is angrt when she reveals this because the constant shifting is just who they are, they don't want to be bound down, and later on there is a genuine dilemma of whether or not Insert is interested in Dee by their own choice or because she's clearly the protagonist and a key part of their identity in a lot of their lives is to be shipped with the protagonist. Also, obvious joke but at several points Insert turns into Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way, because of course they do.

The Department's side isn't that interesting - it's a whole load of villains, some of the more... problematique heroes, and a few hundred grunts. The most interesting character is The Director. He's never seen, even by the highest ranking members of the Department, and no-one knows anything about him other than his gender. Everyone in the resistance has a different theory of who he is - Pan has a suspicion he may have faced him before, Ozma thinks its the Nome King, Alice the Jabberwocky, and Insert fluctuates, as is their nature, although the top two choices are Voldemort or Dumbledore.

It's Dee, however, who figures out the truth, when captured by the Department. The others couldn't possibly know him, but Dee's heard his voice before, in her history classes.

The Director of the Department is Winston Churchill, made immortal by the collective consensus of him as The War-Time Leader. Unfortunately for the whitewashers of history, the immortal they created isn't the brave fighter of tyranny, but the actual Churchill, warts and all, the man who starved over two million Indians out of spite and neglectfulness. Dee being a descendant of Indian immigrants, this meeting isn't perhaps the best one.

There are side effects to the Director's immortality, however. Since the perception of Churchill is tied so deeply to his speeches, to the voice on the radio, that's all he is now. He wants The Book to give him back a body again, and the Department is basically a means to that end.

That's about all I'd concretely plotted out, otherwise I just had random ideas for sequels:

The America Book, where the resistance goes to rescue Dorothy from the CIA version of the Department, which is located under a theme park that is as close to Disneyland as it is possible to be. Naturally, the head of the American Department is Walt Disney's cryogenically frozen head.

The India Book, because a book about British colonialism has got to touch on India at some point. I haven't gotten far in this one, but one idea was that there would be an ongoing war between the native myths and legends - Hindu mythology, the Mahabharata and such - and what is derisively referred to as the 'imports' - namely, the Jungle Book. Again, no idea how this resolves itself, and frankly as a Brit myself I am in no way equipped to tell a story about India, but food for thought.

That's basically it. This isn't a 'here's something to hype up this series' thing - this is an idea I had, I did some thinking about it, but other things happened and I'm kinda splurging this so anyone else who wants to do this idea can pick it up. If you write something like this, feel free to tell me and I'd love to hear about it.

#i write things #technically the point of this is I DON'T write things #but you get the point #peter pan #land of oz #alice in wonderland

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did-he-just-hiss-at-me · 4 years

Text

ok but,,,, imagine this analodukeceit au

fantasy setting. logan, remus, deceit and virgil a a gang of exiles, cast out for various reasons. they fall in love with each other and go on adventures together.

Logan Blackberry Everton, 27

Expert swordsman. Refuses to harm or threaten anyone he considers an ally with his sword.

Exiled 6 years ago because he "betrayed" the royal throne of the Paawtonia kingdom, by killing the heir, Dayd Harper, on the day before his coronation.

In reality, Dayd was a corrupt ruler waiting to happen, and knew that Dayd was going to bring his kingdom down to ashes.

Before exile, Logan was a royal guard, specifically Patton Harper's personal guard. He & Patton were in love, and when Patton had discovered what Logan had done to his older brother he exiled him, and by the time Patton learned the truth it was too late. Logan was too far away. Their love has faded into history.

Logan's never seen without bandages covering his arms, from shoulder to wrist. Can't tell you why, it's spoilers.

Calm, calculated, but loving. Knows exactly how to calm his lovers due to his experience with having to deal with Patton's occasional mental breakdowns because Patton had a rough childhood.

Ethan "Deceit" Moreau, 25

Works with a staff + sword combo. His boyfs thought his sword was odd for a while until Ethan finally revealed he and the "sword" could cast magic.

Exiled because he was born in an anti-magic kingdom, having magic powers. He naturally knows dark and deceptive magic, and he taught himself some fire & psychic magic later in his life.

Never seen without his body almost 100% covered and part of his face covered. The location that's covered is always changing. Sometimes one eye, sometimes both, sometimes his mouth, etc. It is unknown in the group why he does so. It is theorized to have something to do with his magic, perhaps a side effect? Only Ethan & the people from his home village knows.

Reserved. Keeps things close to his chest(metaphorically). Will take things you say about him seriously and it will take a while before he forgives you for it. He thinks fast on his feet, and is usually the reason his boyfriends dodge being hit by someone, because otherwise they'd have no clue.

Remus & Roman Aveyard, 23

Remus uses a large, spiky battle hammer as a weapon. It's lighter than it looks, most of the impact and damage comes from the spikes. Remus just likes swinging a hammer more than a morningstar.

Roman is never seen without a shield. He'll take any weapon, but he knows to protect himself during combat. He'd never intentionally give up his shield for another person, it's all about keeping himself protected.

Exiled together at the age of 16 for sabotaging their kingdom, Fairience. They hated their father, Romulus, their mother, Farah, and their older brother, Pryce; Which led them to the foolish decision to attempt to assassinate their whole family and take over the throne together. The twins successfully killed off their parents but were halted before getting to their brother.

Pryce took over the throne, the twins got chased out of the kingdom and were hailed fugitives. They tried to stick together until eventually during an ambush they got separated and presumed each other dead, so they went their separate ways.

7 years later which is when the story starts, Remus had ended up in the exile gang this au is about, while Roman became the leader of a gang of thieves. The gang Roman leads is known to bring harm to whoever resists their ways, no matter what. They'll even overthrow their own leader if the leader goes against their ways.

Remus was mostly alone those 7 years, and became touch starved because of it. So this short, rambunctious kid known for frequently going beserk curls up in fear, shaking, just from being touched. Roman however, is not touch starved but is vary wary about strangers touching him, causing him to quickly dodge oncoming contact from someone new faster than most people could, it's a sixth sense for him to know when unfamiliar touch is coming.

Remus is super wild and all over the place, and at times seems so hyper that he must've had a lot of sugar. He's not afraid to roast & talk sh** about someone, and slap a b***h too. But when it comes to his boyfriends, Remus is very affectionate, giving lots of compliments and kisses. He is very good at distracting them from whatever is bothering them as well.

Roman is prideful and despite him keeping a shield with him most of the time, he's not very cautious. He'll dive headfirst into danger with a shield in hand. He's one of the few who can keep Remus under control(aside from Remus's bfs). He will gossip about you, just accept it. On the outside he acts very social and outgoing but on the inside he's very shy and just wants to get away from the crowds.

Roman isn't as big in this AU as Remus is, Roman's just put here for convenience.

Virgil Caverly-Deckett, 24 (His name in the image is wrong)

Rogue, uses close-range weapons like daggers. He intimidates most who get close to him so it gives him the advantage.

Exiled for being only part human. His mother had an affair with a demon, so he's part demon. His birthplace is known for being heavily religious, and all the people saw him as a child of sin. So against his mothers cries for mercy, he was chased out of town the day he turned 8, which is when the rumors of him being part demon were proven due to his demon heritage finally coming to light. He still doesn't know what type of demon he partially is, as the only signs he has shown so far are the tiny horns that stick out of his head, the odd patches of skin on his arms and his sharper-than-average fingernails.

He was found and raised by the Dragon Witch, who is actually a relative of Virgil's birth father. Virgil then left his new home at age 19, because he wanted to make a name for himself out there(as well as find others like him), but he occaisonally visits his "Mother Witch"(as he sometimes refers to her as) whenever he can and spends time with her.

Prior to meeting the exile gang, he stopped speaking sentences longer than 10 words, and nobody knows why except for Virgil himself. Not even his Mother Witch, because he hadn't visited since it happened. He can frequently be seen counting on his fingers over and over.

Vigilant. Was pretty vagrant too, until he met his lovers. Soft spoken when calm, but when in battle or stressed his voice is loud, booming, and aggressive. His glare is powerful due to being part demon, he can convince people to back down with it. He rarely uses it on his boyfriends, its only when it's absolutely necessary. He's super affectionate, but in a cuddly way. He's silently demanding them to cuddle him a lot, and they give in because either they want to or they can't resist.

Other noteworthy characters:

Patton Catonica Harper, 24: Ruler of Paawtonia. Used to be in love with Logan but exiled him out of grief after he killed his brother, Dayd. Found out once Logan was long gone that Lo had done him a favor and has since become a shadow of his former self.

Serilda "Dragon Witch" Caverly, ???: Mother figure to Virgil. Master of making potions, charms, and other magical objects. Casts spells with staff. Has wings on her back that she can shrink for comfort and grow when she wants to fly. She also has dragon-like pupils, and has dragon claws, feet, horns, and tail that she can disguise at will for ease. She is a Draconic Demon.

Remy Brantley, 20: Wizard in training. Focuses on sleep-related spells & items. Has trouble with duration of his spells.

Emile Picani, 23: Patton's head servant and best friend. Essentially Patton's therapist as well, as he's the only one who has helped the depressed king with his trauma.

Thomas Sanders, 21: Wizard in training & Remy's best friend. Born in Paawtonia & is faithful to his kingdom. Knows Logan because they are cousins, was very close to him. Fears the day Logan returns because that means, as a defender of Paawtonia, he would have to kill the intruding exile.

So yeah,,,, Analodukeceit Exiles au. Clothing is slightly too modern for the setting but screw it. i'll draw these extra characters later kshfjshfks only the characters in the ship this au is based around were necessary for this post,,, i only added roman cuz it was easier.

i'm 85% likely gonna write a series about this au,,,, lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist. speaking of which, the taglist: @tottalynotgayatall @ollyollyoxinfree @locked-prism @gyllenhoe-f99 @bexxbeauty @a-random-queer-humanoid(you didn't say you wanted to be tagged but i thought you would like to)

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inforapound · 4 years

Text

Ease The Dawn Part 2, Ch.4

A/N - Thank you so much for reading. Short chapter this week. Chapter 3 here. Incredible cover by @silly-bullshit-collector. It is absolutely beautiful and I love the meaning in the ruins and symbols.

Pairing - Ivar and Aethelswith

Words - 1,800

The sky seemed so low, like one could reach up and touch it. It's greyness made the sea look dark and cast a dull hue over everything but her. Bouncing on her toes, she stood in a bright cream dress, stretching to see over the shoulders of the men receiving the ships. With a guard on either side, she waited, ready to run into her lover's arms.

The three weeks he had been gone had been agonizing. Her routine had remained the same but the space next to her in the bed felt as stark as the pit in her heart. Laying at night, she would blink up into the black of their unlit room, wondering at what point her spirit had become so devoted. It was earlier than she would admit, even to herself, thinking back to their small canvas world.

Perhaps, it had not been a moment at all, instead, a slow leak in their defenses. Far more than loneliness or curiosity, they had craved knowledge of each other in those early days. Both yearning for some form of belonging. Was she really that surprised? They were young and inexperienced, thrown together on opposite sides of a war and starved for affection. The more they shared, the easier it came, stripping away the pain of their pasts. She just felt there was something in telling another person one's story that took the venom out of a sting. At some point, some moment, some candlelit evening, the shame was finally shed and an opening created, allowing the other to slip right in.

Alone in their bed, the weeks he was gone, she would eventually close her eyes only to find him there, resting behind the lids of her eyes, the image of him sometimes sitting holding up a piece of her parchment to the light. She adored the way he studied her sketches, his sharp eyes absorbing every detail. Often uttering soft praise under his breath with a gentle nod of his head. Her heart would soar. How could she love him so much?

The fate of her husband passed less and less through her thoughts as the days crept by and her worry grew for her beloved. Any child of God should be laden with guilt; their insides should burn yet having asked for the death of Burgred, she felt nothing.

There was a power to Ivar's love that had strengthened her, allowing her to lift her head high; she was no longer a ghost. All Burgred had given her was humiliation and pain, worse and more fatal, he stood between her and her love. He deserved death and death delivered by Ivar and for that, she would never repent.

—

Sitting on a crate, near the edge of the ship, Ivar's blue eyes found her. His expression was flat and even at a distance, she could see the weariness in his form. The sea had drained the colour from his skin leaving his features drawn and dower.

With a clatter, he was lowered, his feet finally touching the dock. Darting between the thralls she slammed into his chest, cheek to his leathers, she wrapped herself around his waist, squeezing her eyes shut. Raising his tired arms, he enclosed her small body, embracing her back. Touching his lips to the top of her head, his own eyes closed as anguish flashed across his face. Shifting, he dropped his cheek to her forehead, still not uttering a word.

"I did not think it possible to miss you this much," she said, pulling away and peering up into his cool blue eyes. "I counted each day until you would return to me."

Responding with only an exhale, he dipped forward, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

"Ivar?" Her brows scrunched as she searched his expressionless face.

"Come," he whispered, "let us go home."

—

On the edge of their bed, Ivar sat bare-chested, the glow of candles throwing warm light across his smooth skin. His defined muscles looked particularly developed under a sheen from his hot and much needed bath. Wrapped in a thin drying towel, his narrow legs hung over the side of the bed; his puffy, gnarled feet looking out of place. Gripping the edge of the mattress, his head hung forward, eyes closed as if his mind was attempting to free a burden too heavy to carry.

"Ivar?" Crossing the room, she knelt on the floor, reaching forward to grab his hand. "My love, please tell me what it is."

Not responding, he remained still.

"You have barely spoken since your return and said nothing throughout the meal. Ivar," her voice pleaded.

Opening his eyes, he did not lift his chin but gazed at her from under his brow. Admiring her long lashes and the way her peach-coloured lips were parted, waiting for him to respond. The enormity of his ache for her was overwhelming, causing him to shiver, but he did not reach for her. He wanted to suffer looking at her beautiful face. How he had missed that delicate mouth and its taste of a life still far from reach. Closing his eyes, he yearned to disappear, even from her, fade into black and force away the memory of England.

"I failed," he whispered, looking up.

There it is, he thought, watching her forehead crease out of the corner of his eye. One more reason he loved her so. She had the patience and control of a Goddess. Never forcing or prodding him, just waiting, sitting with his fury and somehow understanding his vicious words were never for her.

"I failed," he swallowed with difficulty, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. "Burgred lives."

Pressing her lips together, her soft blue eyes darted back and forth between his, silently asking why.

Looking down, he grunted, the sound rattling in his throat. "You are with a cripple Aethelswith. One who could not even pull a weasel from its hole."

"Do not speak that way," she breathed reaching up and placing her hand to his cheek.

"However," he lifted his eyes to hers, so cold, she nearly pulled her hand back.

"However?"

"Regardless, I have determined the best date for our wedding." His eyes intensified. "The entire voyage home, I thought on it, selecting the perfect day. Exactly one month from tomorrow."

The revelation caused her to drop her hand and sank back onto her heels.

"Four weeks will be enough time to prepare for a ceremony. Do you not agree, Aethelswith?" he pronounced her name with a hiss.

"Ivar," she murmured under her breath.

"Aethelswith," he mimicked, causing her to snap her eyes back to his. "He is a ghost. Gone."

"Ivar."

"Ivar, Ivar. What, Aethelswith? How can he possibly prevent us from marrying? Hmm? Unless you want him to."

Inhaling slowly, she filled her lungs, staring back at his hard face. "Please understand..."

"Oh!" he snapped. "Understand?" he grated out a laugh. "I have been more than understanding."

"I did not swear vows to that despicable man, I swore them to God. To God, Ivar. You are asking me to break vows to God."

Clucking his tongue, he grinned, a mask of condescension sliding over his features. "First it was Burgred and now it is God. Your sacred God still stands between us? This does not bode well for our future, Aethelswith. Nothing can stand between us."

"Precisely!" she rushed not saying another word. She could tell he wanted to war and she knew she did not stand a chance with his forked tongue.

"You are telling me, Aethelswith," he shook his head, "that you are too pure a Christian to marry me, but not too devout to ride my cock."

Scoffing she looked away, shaking her head, disgusted.

"Yes?" Tilting forward, he stared. "Oh, I will respect your divinity, my sweet. I will honour what you hold holy," his voice crooned. "I will not lay with you until we marry."

Looking up, she flinched, not realizing he was so close. Glaring at him, she no longer wanted to sit on the floor at his feet and pushed herself up to stand, swatting the grit off her gown.

"I hope you never find yourself in a situation Ivar, where you must choose me over your Gods."

"Why would I?" he quipped, fluttering his eyelashes.

Air rushed from her noise. "And, you are voracious. You are going to refuse me? I know kings keep whores and slaves but starting before we marry is tad arrogant. Even for you."

"So, which are you, hmm? My slave or my whore?"

Like being hit with water, she shuddered but did not miss the flicker in his eyes as his aggression dissolved, leaving him just looking dejected.

"Ivar," she whispered.

"Is that what you think?" he squinted as if fighting an image in his mind. "That I will one day take another? Look for comfort or....," he could not even say it, "....with someone other than you? You think I would do that?"

Dropping her eyes, she could not look at him, his hurt only making her own worse.

"Thank you, Aethelswith," his expression steadied.

Looking back up to his face, she watched the poison return.

"Thank you for speaking out of anger. I find it is when people are most truthful." Inhaling loudly, his bare chest rose and fell, goosebumps spreading across his flesh. "Yes, this will help me immensely to keep my word. Along with the fact that for the first time, you look a little less beautiful."

"Ivar," she whimpered.

"Get out."

"Pardon," she pressed her hand to her chest.

"Leave Aethelswith," he looked away. "I want to dress for bed."

"I always help.."

"I want privacy!" he shouted continuing to stare at the wall.

"For the night?" her voice cracked and for an instant, a moment, so did his resolve. His brows creased, and she watched him battle his need to reach for her. Closing his eyes, he swallowed.

"You can return once I am in bed," he looked back to her.

Feeling too stunned to react, she knew the devastation would later feel like an open wound. Turning away, she walked to the door, slowly dragging it open. Stepping over the threshold, she pulled the door behind her, hesitating to peer back through. Frozen in place and staring at the ceiling, she could see his face twisted in pain, and she felt panicked, unsure of what to do. His words, this does not bode well for the future, rang in her mind and she felt the heat of tears rising behind her eyes. For the first time, she was afraid to leave and let him stew. She wanted to scream, remind him that they wanted the same thing. Instead, feeling bare in her nightgown, she turned toward the hall, closing the door behind.

Next chapter

@naaladareia @youbloodymadgenius @medievalfangirl @lol-haha-joke @whenimaunicorn @ceridwenofwales @youbelongeverywhere @fangirl-nonsense @equalstrashflavoredtrash @flygirlshygirl @jaydelesley4 @sweeneythots @funmadnessandbadassvikings @thiahilmarsdottir @redama @mdredwine @didiintheblog @yourpurplequeen @justanothershelby @londongal2810 @fields-and-fields-of-poppies @readsalot73 @littlecarolina94

#ivar #ivar fic #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar ragarson #ivar love #ivar slow burn #ivar and princess #ivar smut #Ivar and Aethelswith #ease the dawn part 2 #king ivar #vikings #vikings fic #enemies to lovers

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bleached-d-soul · 4 years

Text

Team ALAB: Home Sweet Home

Part 2 of Team ALAB commissions for @the-hapless-ace

When Jaune ran away from home to enroll in Beacon, his greatest fear was failing.

Now that he managed to get in the academy, fjoin a team of badass guys and even learn how to fight from them, he thought that there were few things he would be terrified of. Bullies couldn't hurt him. His grades were more or less decent. And he even managed to kill a Grimm or two by himself now! He was living the life without fear!

Until the holidays came, that is.

Winter Solaris used to be his favorite time of the year when he was a kid. You gather up with your friends and family, eat a feast of delicious food and basically relax for the entire period of the festivities. Even the Huntsmen Academies allowed their students to take a short break and go home to their families.

It was his time to go home.

Oh Gods, home...

"My parents are going to kill me."

"Kill them first then."

"You are not helping, Mercury!"

The former assassin showed no sympathy for him as he simply flipped through the comic. Then again, considering how complicated and homicidal his relationships were, Jaune couldn't blame him. But right now it wasn't Mercury Jaune was losing head about. It was his own life. His sisters would be mad. His dad would be furious. And mom... Oh Gods, mom wouldn't be mad.

She would be just disappointed.

"You know you could always stay here in Vale, right?" Ren said as he got tired of watching Jaune pace around the room. "Many students do that."

"Really?!" He was saved, wohoo! Now that he found some peace, he had a few questions. "Why are they staying though?"

"Some don't want to. Most cannot," Ren replied simply. "The latter don't have a home to go back to, that's all."

Jaune looked at his teammates. The son of the assassin who was running away from life of abuse and pain. The former terrorist exiled from his only home. And the boy who lost everyone to a Grimm. Fuck, he was feeling like such an asshole.

"You are coming with me."

All three looked up at him, confused and lost.

"Uh, Jaune? I don't think you-"

"Nope, you are coming with me, Ren. All of you are."

"Hey leader, weren't you trying to stay away from your family?" Mercury rolled his eyes. Seriously, Jaune was an okay guy but he seemed to not have much for attention span. "If this is about us killing each other without you, don't worry. Hornhead over here will be too busy stalking his ex."

"I swear to God, Black, another joke like that and I will-"

"Nope, all of you are coming with me for holidays!" Damn his cowardice! He was going to make sure the guys didn't spend the Winter Solaris alone eating some cafeteria food! "I am not taking no for an answer."

Now, all he needed to do was convince his parents to let them stay over and-

BOOM!

Something blew up in the halls.

"Where is he?!" the loud and terrifyingly familiar voice boomed through the corridors, mitigated only by even louder cries for help by the fleeing students. "Where is Jaune Arc?!"

Oh Gods, they came for him.

"He is over there! Please, don't stomp on my ballsa-AAAAAAAH!"

With a sickening crunch and then deadly silence, the four sat watching the door in suspense.

They could hear every step made towards their room but none dared to move.

They were too terrfified to move.

The blade of an axe ripped through their door, tearing the thing into bits and pieces. And now before the young men of the team ALAB stood none other than Jasmine Arc. The former Huntress. Now the mother of eight.

"Hi sweetie!" her voice dripped with warmth and love. And anger. Gods, so much anger and bloodlust even Adam found himself uncomfortable. "I decided to drop by. See how you are doing..."

Jaune gulped as he found mom's eyes staring hollowly into his.

"... and make sure you come back home for holidays!"

Before any of them could do or say anything, the young men were on the Bullhead flying back to Everwoods, the home to the Arc family.

ALAB

Adam didn't remember much of his parents.

His earliest memory was that of a dirty cell full of the other faunus children like him. Little more than cattle in the eyes of their oppressors, the kids were sent down to mine more Dust for the Schnees, as if they were not rich and fat enough. If you slacked off, you didn't get dinner. If you didn't meet your quota, you didn't get to leave the mines until you did. And if you fought back, talked back or even looked like you were thinking something other than 'Yes, sir', you got a beating. Do any of those enough times and you disappeared.

In those conditions, it was the oldest like him that had to be the parent. The mother who could comfort the smallest and weakest. The father who would give up his own stale bread and water so that others didn't starve.

Then he joined the White Fang and his fight was no longer about keeping the kids in cells fed and protected. Now he was taking them out of those cages. No matter where they went, the kids they saved from the labor camps were always the same: starving, scared and silent.

He never had a place to call home. His hoke was whichever base White Fang was situated in. The sands of Vacuo or harsh snow valleys of Atlas, none of it mattered as long as he could set another Faunus free. He never understood people who held any warmth for something as small and frail as a house.

"Waaaaaaah!"

"Shhh, Adrian, mommy is here!"

"Hey, Rouge, where did you put my book?"

"I didn't touch anything!"

"Mooom, I think the pie is burning!"

Which is why he was still unsure what he was feeling in this place. The Arc house was quite big and nice, though hardly large enough for the family of nine. It was somewhat old too. Yet none of the family seemed to mind.

There was laughter. There were jokes. Nothing so out of the ordinary and yet... Yet there was something that Adam still couldn't put his finger on. Was it the smell of all homemade food? Perhaps it was due to his increased senses that he-

"Ren, I have a problem."

"What is it?"

"There is a small child clinging to my leg." Adam pointed at the toddler who looked at him, eyes bright with some weird awe. "I think he might see me as as a threat."

"CA!"

"What is he saying?" Adam whispered as he picked the little one up. He seemed not to mind his mask, which was good enough. He would hate to remove it and get unnecessary questions asked.

"CA!"

What did that mean?

"Uh, I think he likes your horns?" Ren guessed as Adrian touched said protrusions. Did he really? Well, it was certainly a surprise. Back when he was a kid, the wardens used to push him around using his horns as one of the main targets for their verbal abuse. Why, they even called him a cow-

"MOOOOO!"

...

"Adam, are you okay? You are, uh, shaking..."

...

"Maybe I should take Adrien back to Saphron."

...

Mooo? Fucking Mooo?

"I AM NOT A DAMN COW FAUNUS!"

The room erupted in laughter. But not the kind Adam used to hear. There was no mockery or spite. Or fear and disgust. They weren't even laughing at him as much as his reaction. And somehow... Somehow he couldn't help but laugh too. Not like the brat and the sisters. Like he always did, quiet and reserved.

But a laugh nonetheless.

Adam never celebrated any holidays. Had no time. Had no desire. Why celebrate the moments of peace when his kind was still at war?

But maybe... Maybe these things weren't so bad, after all.

ALAB

Well, Adam was pissed. Which counted as good in Mercury's book.

Also, he was training with Jaune's dad, Alder. Which was pretty badass.

"You are good for your age, old man," Mercury smirked. "Too bad I am better."

"Are you sure?" and just like that, Mercury fell onto the ground, suddenly winded. What the hell? "My Semblance is called Drain. Within a certain range, it makes all the people I see slowly use up more of their stamina and Aura. Honestly, I am surprised you lasted this long. You have really good control over your body. Not something you see in a lot of young huntsmen."

Well, he wasn't the most huntsmen, was he now?

"Let's just say I didn't have a choice on that."

He didn't have the Semblance. He used to but now it was stolen, gone along with the asshole that took it from him. A part of him told him that he was crying over nothing. Without his Semblance, he was pushed to become the most vicious and efficient fighter he could be. His speed and strength were the fruits of his own work.

And hey, it was a small price to pay for his bastard dad's death.

"I am really glad my son met you guys."

Huh? "It was mostly an accident," Literally, in fact. "That crazy headmaster launched us all into the forest with a freaking catapult."

Seriously, he could have them jump off the Bullhead or something. But nooo, somehow that old psycho decided that launching them off like some paper planes was a better use of Beacon money.

"Still, I doubt Jaune would make it without you and the rest of the team," Alder said as he took a sip of his beer. Mercury wasn't quite sure why but he took a step back. No, forget that. He knew exactly why he put some distance between the two. And he hated himself for it. Hated how much power his old man had over him even now that he was dead. "You know, you are strong, Mercury."

He knew that. He had to be.

"Thanks, I guess."

"And you don't have to be a huntsman to prove it."

At that, Mercury looked at the man confused. What was that supposed to mean?

"I don't know what it is that happened to you in the past, not my place or right to pry. But I can tell from our little spar that you hate this strength you have. I can tell that you are not fighting because you decided to."

The man looked him dead in the eyes.

"You fight because you think this is the only thing you are good for."

Mercury sat silent, refusing to meet the man's eyes. What else was he good for? Dad never taught him anything beyond the simplest basics. How to write, read and count and that's it. The rest of the time was spent beating the fighting techniques into his skull. It's not like he could become an accountant or something now. At least being a huntsman would let him get his own money for whatever he wanted.

"I became a huntsman for much the same reason."

Huh?

"I thought you were some kind of town hero," Mercury could still remember all the annoying rumblings of how his dad joined Beacon to protect his home after graduating. "The whole White Knight routine and all that."

"That's only half the truth, unfortunately. Didn't want my kids to know I used to be a violent and unpleasant thug," the man chuckled. "I joined Beacon because I wanted a simple life. Be strong enough to slay a Grimm or two in some major cities. Collect enough money and live the life you want. I wanted to get out of this place so much back then. Leave and never look back."

"Let me guess," Mercury rolled his eyes. "Then you found love and decided to clean up your act?"

"No, my entire team almost died on a mission because of me."

Okay... Shit.

"I was young and reckless. But more importantly, I had nothing to lose back then. An orphan without any actual friends, all I cared about was me and what I wanted," Ardel recounted with the small sad smile. "My teammates were different. Each and one of them had something to return to. A home. A family. A lover. Something that made them so desperate to survive that they beat the impossible odds and even saved my sorry ass."

Did he have something like that though? He had no idea where his mom went. Or if he wanted to meet the woman who left him with that monster. He had no special love for his home village either. In the end, Mercury realized that he had nothing to come back to. Nobody waiting on him.

"You are young though. And I can tell you four are good for each other. Whatever comes your way, you don't have to face it alone," Alder said as he stood up and picked up his sword. "Now then, ready for another spar?"

Mercury smirked.

"I could use some more exercise."

ALAB

"Guys, dinner is ready!"

With a loud miriad of steps, the relatively big kitchen in the house of Arcs soon had no space left. The table was breaking apart under the weight of all the food, the orchestra of mouth-watering smells teasing the hungry stomachs with the promise of delectable end of the day.

But not before the man of the house finished his speech.

Which had lasted for good twenty minutes by now.

"Is he always like that?" Adam asked, not quite irritated but still hungry and exhausted from all playing with kids.

"Only when he is drunk," Jaune admitted.

"-and finally! I am happy to welcome Adam, Mercury and Ren into our family!" Alder finished, cheeks red and stance wobbling. "You three take good care of my son! And Jaune, make sure they don't have to take care of you all the time! Now, let's eat!"

The dinner began.

The table laughed, all of them exchanging their own stories and experiences.

And come the end of the night, team ALAB found themselves growing closer.

Not just teammates.

But now members of the same family.

#rwby #jaune arc #lie ren #adam taurus #mercury black #alab au #team alab

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jacklynnfrost · 4 years

Text

Melizabeth Week #1

Submission for DAY ONE of Melizabeth Week @melizabeth-week This piece is Beta’d by Sinfulfics, a wonderful friend and an even better writer- pick any of her fics and you will be amazed.

Chapter One: Light & darkness By Jacklynnfrost

The champion rallies the crowd having finished his trial of the goddess amber first with barely a wound. He had entered with nothing but a stick, just as the others had, and although his clothes are burned, his skin is unmarked- giving his species away to those paying closer attention. He stands before the cave of training, Ishtar’s valley full of spectators, but it’s the Druids closest along with a small girl around ten years old with dark hair that notice. “A demon.” The priestess hisses, alerting the royal family beside her. The king and the lady of honor, his lovely daughter with snow-white hair and a bosom unlike he’s ever seen before, study him closer in response to the proclamation.

After providing his name, he pays no mind after simply gracing the lot of them with a grin before soaking in the cheers. The young man searches the crowd, only pausing in his waving when he sees those he is looking for. Chandler, beside Cusack, and his younger scowling brother between the two older men. He nods to them, indicating he will accomplish their goals, the first obstacle has been cleared. With this win he can free his demon brethren and somehow the key to do so is with the death of the princess, the chosen Goddess Apostle of this decade.

Of course, with only the four of them left the history is a little blurry and it isn’t like they had a guide book on how to revive their lost. All he knows for sure is the Goddesses mass murdered his people, sacrificed them to build this world and he will right that wrong, no matter the cost. It’s all he’s thought about since Chandler and Cusack found him and his brother, starving on the streets. They saved them, showed them the way, taught them everything they know.

“Meliodas! The Hero of Britannia!” The blonde druid priestess who hissed his race moments ago steps up, her staff raising into the air and just as the people below start to quiet the clouds open above and a soft misting drizzle begins. He turns to the druid Priestess, satisfied with the sour look on her face knowing the rules prevent her from stopping him as tradition dictates, fate decides who wins the trial.

“Jennah.” The King steps forward, angling his shoulders to stand between the Priestess and the crowd at his back. “This cannot happen! The darkness, and my daughter’s life, is in the balance. To grant him this, the consequences-”

“Stop.” The voice is like dancing chimes in a summer breeze, and in the cold drizzle, Meliodas feels warm. He looks to the sound, finding the Goddess Princess herself stepping forward. Her hips sway and her eyes find his for the first time. They are blue, like the sky on the rare clear days their ruined world has. He is one of the lucky ones, he’s seen the sky three times in his life, but the faceted sparkling in her puts those memories to shame and the only thought that breaches the haze he’s fallen under is how lovely she is to look on. “Continue the ceremony. Fate has chosen.”

Bartra is a strong king, Meliodas has seen this before but as the King stiffens and steps back he wonders if he would have put up more of a fight if this princess had been his real daughter. The Apostles are always given the title of princess and raised with every luxury. Any semblance of pity over her father not fighting for her to live is replaced with scorn at the thought of how easy her life must have been, while he struggled, fought, and was molded so harshly under the forge fires of his own surrogate fathers.

Only the barest hint of kinship forms, as he knows this mission is a suicide one and his fathers raised him for this slaughter. No one has ever returned from the wastes and it is his task now to escort her across them. Their fathers know they are going to their deaths, yet all parties are silenced so easily. He doesn’t break their eye contact as she stares into him, as if asking him a question, and as Jennah begins her speech neither of them is listening. Something intense sparks between them, he watches as her breathing shallows, feeling his own chest close up before opening as if something inside is trying to reach out.

“Meliodas.” The Druid’s voice is bordering chastisement and he shakes his head to focus on the priestess, and the ceremony he’s been training to fool his entire life. “I will ask again.” Her tone is firm, harsh, “Do you accept the task of protecting the Goddess Apostle, Princess Elizabeth, with your life, to deliver her to the Celestial Temple where she may continue her duty and save us all?” Meliodas swallows, slivers of darkness growing in his eyes as he smirks knowingly.

“I do,” he says, knowing it’s supposed to be a vow but refusing to give his words any clout, nor really think about what he agreed to or the way she phrased it. The crowd cheers but his black orbs zero in on Princess Elizabeth and he takes great pleasure in the parting of her lips paired with the slight flush that dusts her pretty cheeks.

“The world’s fate is in your hands, Hero,” Jenna finishes, rising her staff and the clouds above swirl creating a vortex over them all. Elizabeth turns to the dark-haired child, bending to speak to her before kissing her forehead, the girl’s brown eyes filling and spilling over with tears. The winds are too harsh for him to make out the words she speaks to the child, then she turns to her father and falls into his embrace, obviously soaking him in for the last time.

Elizabeth looks brave as she strolls forward but this close, Meliodas can see her eyes shining and her bottom lip barely quivering. They stand face to face, her about a half a head taller but she is thinner and appears fragile with her emotions shining. He scowls at her when a single tear escapes, dismissive as he turns to their next destination. The gate of the tower on the edge of their territories, the wasteland's entrance is through there.

The great scourge, the wound left from a war three thousand years past, has not calmed. The vortex above funnels, reaching down before twisted to touch the tip of the tower Jennah points to with her staff, the gate before them. “You may enter the tower for supplies and your sacred weapons. Farewell, good luck, and be mindful.” The priestess’s voice rises over the deafening winds and they both turn to the stone tower reaching into the air attached to the border wall that keeps those inside safe. The building is three stories high with a point at the top, and not a single window.

Elizabeth strolls forward with her shoulders back, her head high and he follows, expecting her to shake or collapse, but she doesn’t, nor does she look back as she reaches the wooden doorway of the stone column. The open back of her tight outfit draws his eye and he looks greedily over her bare flesh.

She enters, almost proudly and a few paces after, he steps in too. The stone walls curve, the ceiling sloping up like a dome and the rotunda floor shines with an inlay of luminescent stone that loops in a jagged triskelion shape. The doors close behind him on their own with a snap that rings with finality sealing off the winds, the silence startling to the point that his spine straightens, the hairs on the back of his neck rising.

“It’s this way,” Elizabeth murmurs, pointing to an open archway to his right and he warily steps forward to look down it. The hall is short but the room just behind that makes his heart race and his excitement grows. Blades, bows, and spears line the wall he can see, hanging on the stone to showcase the various sizes and styles. He is drawn in, walking that way with sure footing, only pausing to read the words above the entrance slowly as he is out of practice with the written word, ‘Sacred Treasures’. It’s rumored that each weapon forged here has an innate power, one that is awakened specifically for its master.

The entire room glints with metal, stone and sharp edges. It’s a dream come true for Meliodas to have his own magical weapon, one that suits him. He passes the wall of heavy weapons, barely giving a glance to the spears and ranged bows, his eye is on the swords and he stands before the wall in awe of all the choices.

He’s so enthralled he doesn’t notice Elizabeth has taken to his side, that her gaze is searching the same wall. It isn’t until he hops up, snagging a short sword with five perfect circles cut out of the center of the blade that he realizes she is so close. “That’s Lostvayne.” Her soft voice reaches him while so deep into his mind. “It’s been here for thousands of years. It’s one of the most powerful pieces but it’s always overlooked due to its size.”

Meliodas steps back, slashing it through the air and tossing it from one hand to the other, finding its weight perfect, its length suitable to his stature. “You’ve followed your instincts,” she notes, and he finds her slight praise brings him a bit of contentment. He dislikes it, frowns at the effect her voice has on him but figures it must be her latent magic.

To calm himself he lines up behind her and with a few slashes of his sword is happy to deduce the right angle it will take to slice her throat with his ‘Sacred Treasure’. He even snickers to himself how foolish these people are to give him the very weapon he will use to destroy them. It takes him another ten minutes of testing out his blade for him to realize she’s still staring up at the wall of swords, seemingly having not decided herself.

Just as he’s about to speak up, she points. He follows where she indicates seeing a winged sword, it’s blade jagged and shaped like a feather with a hilt of shining silver that ends with a rounded blue sapphire almost as captivating as her eyes. Two little sharp feather ornaments decorate where the handle meets the blade. Just looking at it makes him uneasy, knowing the magic within is opposite his own and will do some heavy damage if it’s turned on him. His eyes narrow and she has the decency to flush.

“It calls to me,” she defends softly, but the harshness to his anger smooths as she arches her back and two sets of pearl white wings erupt from her back, explaining why it’s open. He’s never seen it before, only heard rumors of those descending from Goddesses having inherited some abilities and he wonders what else she can do.

Elizabeth stretches, prying the sword from the wall and she glides down, her toes stretching in her black shoes to tap to the stone floor once more. “Is it too long?” She asks, extending it out before her and he scowls, eyeing her disdainfully while wondering why she would want his opinion on such a despicable sword.

Silently, he steps away, curiously looking around and wondering if all cities are stocked this well. With just one of these weapons he could have made a mint and looking at his chosen treasure now he knows he’ll never have to live off the swill and crumbs he’s accustomed too. He may love the weapon already, but his priority is to kill the princess in order to free the demon clan and live comfortably and peacefully afterward for the remainder of his days. If he lives. He huffs, glaring at the mural painted above of goddesses uniting with the other races.

Demons are omitted in the piece, still treated as undesirables to this day.

“Supplies are this way.” The princess silently toes around him, pulling a paper from her side satchel with a little heart clasp on the front that shifts as her hips do. “I have a map, it’s marked with each of the safe places to stop between jaunts. We have to make it to the temple by the full moon and deviating from the marked path is dangerous, deadly.”

He snorts, following her as they enter the circular entrance once more, going opposite the weapons room. As they cross the room, Meliodas slows to curiously look down the final unexplored hall seeing that it leads to a heavy metal door with a large bar across it, unlit sconces along the walls.

When Meliodas catches up to Elizabeth, a room of dried foods, waterskins, bags and sleep sacks along with travelers clothes of all sizes. She points to a side sash style backpack that has a sheath attached. “It looks like it will fit Lostvayne.” Meliodas tests her theory and when it proves true he carries his new bag with him to the supplies and then the clothing, not saying a word in thanks.

He glances her way when he’s made his selections noticing she is packing away food, tallying up on her fingers. With a shrug, he strips from his rags, leaving his old clothing where they fall as he jabs his feet through the black pants. They are reinforced and he takes a moment to simply feel them, enjoying the pleasant feel of something so rich gracing his behind. It’s then that a soft gasp pierces the silence and he turns to the Princess.

She’s wide-eyed, hand over her heart with a new backpack at her side stuffed full. Elizabeth stares at his bare chest, her face pinkening and Meliodas cannot help the cocky smirk that plays at his lips. Brazenly, he rubs his hand over his chest and down the middle of his abs to follow the little trail of blonde hairs in the V of his hips. “What?” he questions knowingly and she turns away with a flinch to stare at the bedrolls behind her.

Meliodas finishes dressing, chuckling to himself before gathering the bare minimum and cinching the bag over his shoulder. To make sure the sheath works and to get used to the new position of drawing his blade from behind his neck, he practices the move. Out of the corner of his eye he sees that her sword is snapped around her waist. He watches her select a dark blue cloak and then a shorter one of brown that she walks over and offers it to him.

“I doubt we’ll need it.” He notes, feeling as if he needs to act superior to her simply because she is a princess. She’s under his protection now, and a sly smile spreads as she folds her chosen clothes away, donning her own cloak before heaving her pack on her shoulders. Meliodas can tell she has overburdened herself but speaks naught a word as she tucks his cloak over her arm.

“Have you...” she trails off, her eyes wary, “Do you know what you are in for, what you’ve agreed to as my warrior?”

A dark flash of contempt overcomes him, his green orbs bleeding to black as he pins her with his gaze alone. She blanks, startled and he hisses low, “I can fight. Guiding you to a temple will be simple, what else do I possibly need to know?” Elizabeth’s lips move, opening and closing as if trying to speak before she clams up, nodding, accepting his answer. For her, she thinks it might be better this way, that his understanding paired with not liking her much will be to his emotional benefit when this is over. After all, his main purpose is to fight but it’s following their arrival, when she completes her duty, that his true test of strength will arise.

Meliodas turns, leading her through the tower purposefully and feeling as if he’s won their little argument. To him, if she expected anything beyond getting her to the temple he will not comply, he has his own goals once they get there. His fathers expect it. “No one has ever returned from the outside, they say it’s wastes, the scourge and storms still raging from the war. I don’t trust it. Do you know what they say about my kind? Ha! I bet it’s a paradise out there.” He snorts, giving her a backward glance. “Maybe no has returned as here is the real ruin, I know if I had another option, I’d take it.”

Her eyes drop from his arrogant face, unsure herself. Elizabeth knows there is suffering, she isn’t a shut-in as she’s trained here with the druids for years, has traveled through the slums of Brittania; but she knows her knowledge of what it is like to be a Demon in this realm is extremely lacking. It’s why she stopped her father from preventing this partnership, she believes everyone has a choice, that people are not born evil.

Still, she is sure the outside world must be uninhabitable, or nearly so. It doesn’t make sense not to utilize it, if it was able to be sown. What she does know, as her warrior lifts the metal bar securing the door as if it’s easy when she knows they are solid for reinforcement, is Meliodas has a lot of built up rage inside him. She’s seen it leak in his biting words and intense stares. Elizabeth wonders why but knows it is unwise to establish any kind of connection with where she is heading.

Where the bar gave him no problem, the doors do. He pushes his shoulder against it until it slowly creaks, inching outward. Sand trickles in from the crack, a rush of heat entering the towers hall and the air shifts as if it’s suddenly gone sour, heavy. Meliodas stands, letting the door snap shut as he reaches out and snags the cloak from her. “It’s fucking wretched out there,” he surly explains, shaking out his hair where little bits of dust scatters.

She’s quiet as she ties back her own hair and flips her hood up as he situates his pack after raising his own hood. “Map,” he demands and Elizabeth shuffles it from her personal side satchel to present to him. He looks it over, studying the thing and with a long sigh, seems to take this seriously for the first time. “Stay close to my side, we have a long day's journey through that heat. Breathe through your nose and keep your head down.” With a flick of his hand, he returns the map before bracing his stance wide in front of the door and heaves with a great thrust to push it open.

With a quick tip of his head, she knows he wants her out and she abides, raising her cloak as the winds are forceful as if they want her to stay away. Elizabeth obeys, breathing through her nose and staying close as her demon hero slips out, the doors slamming shut behind him but she doesn’t lower her head. Instead, she looks out at the desert wastes before her.

Dust clouds obscure anything beyond twenty or so feet but she can make out the shadowed stone formations reaching for the sky, which is tinged tan and grey from the sand mixing with the storm above. There is nothing. She looks one way and slowly rotates to the other and it’s just endless, dry, nothingness. “Oh,” She hushes, not knowing what she expected but surely not this.

Not nothing.

“Let’s go,” Meliodas gruffs, holding up the arm of his cloak to shield his face as he resists the winds. She mirrors him, stepping where he’s stepped, close behind. Elizabeth has studied the map herself but without a clear view of the milestones and indicators, she’s mostly guessing that they are going the right way. She assumes that’s how he’s navigating as well.

With a heavy heart, she hopes they make it. So many lives depend on it, because if she doesn’t, what she sees now, the dry dusts of what used to be civilization, will be exactly what becomes of Britannia. Her eyes water and she pinches them shut knowing it’s too dry to spend any bit of hydration on tears. She’s known her fate for too long to be bothered by it now.

#melizabethweek #Day 1 #meliodas #elizabeth liones #nanatsu no taizai fanfiction

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perspective-series · 4 years

Text

Vampire Perspective (4/17)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Imprisonment, wanting to starve self, depressing thoughts, think that’s everything (?)

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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Patton let out a tense sigh, sinking back against the bedroom door. He didn’t want Virgil to know he was still keeping Roman, although Patton wasn’t ignorant. He knew the scent was everywhere in the house, and most evenings it drove Patton mad. Patton tried to keep his distance, but it couldn’t be avoided, especially at moments like this when Roman needed to be fed.

Patton knelt in front of the chest, opening the lid to reveal the borrower inside. “Um, good evening.”

Roman had his head turned as soon as he heard the footsteps, not wanting to look up at Patton. His arms were hugging his legs as he stayed in the corner as he wondered if this would be the time that Patton finally...finally ate him.

“I brought you some food.” Patton bit his lip, noting how the food dish he had placed inside the chest remained untouched. “...again.”

“‘M not hungry.” Roman mumbled quietly, trying to force his stomach to stay quiet using sheer willpower. Truth was he was starving but he wasn’t about to eat anything the vampire gave him. He could only assume it was to make him tastier.

“Roman, come on.” Patton sighed, scooping the borrower out of the chest.

“Agh! No! Unhand me!” Roman yelled but his struggles were weak from his lack of eating.

“You have to eat something!” Patton insisted. “I’ve heard your stomach growling for days, you’re gonna starve!”

“Then I starve! It’s a lot better fate than being eaten by some monster!” Roman exclaimed, shaking in the grip.

“Roman.” Patton whined, feeling absolutely awful. “I’m not, I swear on my grave I’m not going to eat you. I’m not that kind of vampire! I feed on little forest creatures and can’t stomach the thought of actually hurting them, how could I possibly kill you when you’re a miniature person with cognitive feelings?”

Roman looked down. “I don’t know! How could you possibly keep me captive then, huh? Explain that!”

“I’m trying to keep you safe.” Patton whimpered, his fangs biting at his bottom lip. “I’m doing my best.”

“Keep me safe from what? Cause the only danger I see around here is you.” Roman growled, doubling his efforts to push against the hand. Of course, double of practically nothing was still practically nothing.

“No, I-I mean Virgil!” Patton quickly reminded him. “He’s not himself, he’s all bloodlusted, don’t you remember? If I turned you loose he might…” Patton gulped, not liking to picture it.

Roman frowned, remembering the other vampire quite well. He...did seem a lot worse than Patton, that was for sure. “...How can you expect me to trust you?” Roman decided to ask.

“Well… I think you’ve just gotta, kiddo.” Patton gave a sympathetic shrug. “There aren’t really any other options.”

Well that didn’t sit right with him...but he supposed Patton was also right. He could still be wary around the vampire and look out for any and all escape attempts but...until an opportunity arose he needed to keep his strength up. And starving himself wouldn’t help him with that.

“...Fine. But only because I don’t have any other choice.” Roman said, not meeting Patton’s eyes.

Patton seemed satisfied with this answer, holding out the food.

Roman sighed but took the food all the same. He looked it over, recognizing it as a chicken nugget from some fast food place. He glanced up at Patton before taking a bite out of the still warm nugget. He practically moaned at the taste and the first bite kicked his instincts into overdrive. He ate the thing in under a minute, still feeling hungry.

Patton giggled, unable to hide his grin at the fact Roman was finally, finally eating. “Do you want some more?” Patton offered up a second, loving how cute the borrower looked when he ate.

Roman nodded, grabbing the next offered nugget like a small child would and started into that one. Once he was about halfway finished, he seemed to realize he was still in the vampire’s grip. “Um...can-can you put me down? P-Please?” Roman asked, hating how nervous he still sounded.

“Hmm?” Patton tilted his head, for all intents and purposes a confused puppy. “How come?”

“W-Well, it’s just…” Roman squirmed. “It’s...a little uncomfortable.” Understatement but it’s what he was going with.

“Why?” Patton insisted. He changed the position of his hands, so that it was a flatter surface. “Is this better?”

“It’s...a little bit but I would much rather be set down.” Roman bit his lip. “I am not used to being in hands bigger than myself.” It was honestly terrifying.

“Oh, I gotcha kiddo.” Patton nodded sympathetically. “But how are you gonna get used to it if you don’t do it?”

Roman blinked before he chuckled nervously. “I mean, I-er, I don’t really want to get used to it. I’m perfectly capable of getting to places on my own.” He was hoping he wouldn’t be with Patton long enough to ‘get used to it’ anyway but if he could stop it from happening while he was here, then he would take it.

“Well sure, but I’m a lot faster.” Patton teased, ruffling Roman’s hair with his thumb. “Besides, you’re just so cute! I love holding you.”

Roman froze as his hair was ruffled, not daring to move until the thumb was taken away again. Roman frowned. “I’m not cute, I’m handsome.” He muttered, shifting a little. Cute was far to degrading for him to take as an actual compliment. “And you make like it but I really do not.”

“Well you can be cute and handsome.” Patton corrected with a smile. “Okay, how about a compromise, then? Obviously I can’t hold you all the time- or can I?” Patton paused, taking a moment to indulge in that selfish fantasy before shaking his head. It wouldn’t be safe. “But anyways, since I’ll be holding you some of the time, how about you tell me how to make it better?”

Roman sighed but he supposed if he really couldn’t avoid it, this was better than nothing. As long as Patton actually listened to him, of course. “Well...I’d prefer it if you didn’t grab me. Especially without warning. And to not close your fist around me at all, if you have to carry me, I want your hand to be open. Just like how it is now.”

Patton glanced down at his hands. “Ah… that doesn’t seem very safe, kiddo.”

“It’s safe. And those are my terms, take them or leave them.” Of course, it would not be hard at all for Patton to ignore them and do whatever but if he was serious about this compromising thing, then he hoped he would listen.

“I’ll be gentle.” Patton assured him, dodging the statement.

Roman grit his teeth. “I don’t care how gentle you are! I don’t want to be trapped! ...Anymore then I already am.” Roman yelled before trailing off, looking away.

“Aww, hey, c’mon Roman, don’t be mad.” Patton winced, rubbing his finger soothingly along Roman’s back. “I just didn’t want to make promises that I can’t keep, because your safety comes first. But I promise you kiddo, I’ll only do that stuff when absolutely necessary. I don’t want you to be trapped, either.”

Couldn’t Patton see he was already trapped. But he sighed. “Fine...I suppose that’s acceptable.” He flinched at the feeling of fingers on his back and he had a feeling he needed to address that as well. “Also, could you not do...any unnecessary touching? Please.”

Patton paused, his finger still resting on Roman’s back. “Do you… are you not a touchy feely then?”

Roman actually was quite the touchy feeling kind of guy but it wasn’t like he was going to tell Patton that. “Not really.” He lied.

“Aww, well you should have just said so!” Patton took his fingers away, going over to his blanket pile and setting Roman atop a pillow. “Virgil’s the same way, most vampires are actually. It must be something with the whole undead thing, but I’m still as touchy as I always was.”

Roman sighed in relief when he was finally put down. He finished off his chicken nugget and looked up at Patton, confused. “As you always were?”

“Oh, um.” Patton shifted a bit. “I mean when I was human.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “W-Wait, you were human before?! W-When? And how did this all happen then?” Roman asked, motioning towards all of Patton’s vampyness.

Patton gave an awkward chuckle. “Boy, you sure don’t know a lot about vampires, huh?”

“Just that you suck blood from humans and, apparently, eat borrowers.” Other then that, Roman didn’t know a whole lot.

“Fair enough.” Patton rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, so um, basically, one of the ways you can become a vampire is to Turn. That’s what happens when a vampire bites a human and some… other stuff happens. You can also be born a vampire, too.”

“I just...assumed you were all born like this.” Roman muttered, looking down in thought. “So...you were Turned?”

“Mhm! About…” Patton paused, his eyes turning a bit glassy as he seemed to be concentrating really hard. “Oh gee, ah, I think it’s been over a- a century now.”

Roman choked on his own spit in pure shock, coughing painfully as he looked back up at Patton. “Y-You’re over a hundred years old!” That was insane!

“Yeah, I look good for my age.” Patton joked. “Virgil’s older, he’s got another few centuries or more on me, I can never remember.”

Roman’s mouth fell open. “W-Wow...o-okay, yeah, cool, awesome.” Roman stuttered out, rubbing a hand through his hair. Finding out that his captor was so old...he didn’t know why it didn’t sit right with him but it just didn’t.

“There’s also… a lot of stuff you can’t do as a vampire.” Patton bit his lip, fangs poking out. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, there’s lots of cool powers! But um, there’s…. You miss out on a lot, too.”

“Like...what?” Roman asked, looking back up at Patton. He had to admit, he was curious about all this. And, if he could perhaps learn some weakness...well, maybe he could use it to his advantage somehow.

Patton let out a slow, sad sigh. “...I miss the sun.” He admitted quietly. “Vampires can’t go out during the day. The older or more powerful you are, the more it affects you, but sunlight can range from giving you a rash to downright fatal.” Patton shivered at that. “You just… you turn to ash. And then you’re just gone.”

“But I miss the sun.” Patton repeated, looking away a bit. “I- I used to love going outside. And now whenever I can none of the birds chirp and the flowers close and everyone is in their beds. It’s like life is always going on out there, and I have to miss it all. Forever.”

Of course, Patton thought bitterly, it made sense. He wasn’t alive at all now.

“That...I’m so sorry, that truly sounds terrible.” He felt bad for the guy which wasn’t good. He wasn’t supposed to feel bad for his captor. “Is there anything...good about being a vampire?” Roman asked.

...Wait, no, he was supposed to be looking for weaknesses!

“Well, the super speed is pretty cool.” Patton said, a shy smile on his face before it fell once more. “And super strength, they both come in handy. Although a lot of vampires are stronger than me because I’m not a proper vampire.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “How are you not a ‘proper’ vampire’? You have the fangs and the thirst for blood, don’t you?” Thirst for his own blood.

“Well, yes.” Patton’s laugh was just a bit too high pitched to be entirely natural. “I suppose those do seem like the qualifiers, huh? Well, newly born or turned vampires often start out drinking animal blood, and then move onto- well, human blood. Except the thought of actually hurting anybody makes me queasy, so even if they’ll be fine afterwards and won’t remember it I… it’s hard for me. Cause they just look so scared, and I can’t take it. So even though I’m full grown now I mostly drink animal blood still, and it’s not exactly great for maintaining your vampirism.”

“I..see…” Roman didn’t understand the difference between the blood but then again, he wasn’t a vampire. He thought for a moment. “Virgil said my blood was powerful...is that why he’s so adamant on you e-eating me?”

Patton nodded, his expression a strange mix of sympathy and fondness. “Yeah, I think so. He’s trying to look out for me, in his own way. Virgil’s been a proper vamp for a long time so he kinda forgets about mortals having feelings, but he still cares about me at least. He worries that I’m hurting myself, getting all weak like this.”

Roman supposed he understood that, though it still gave him the chills since, well, Virgil wanted Patton to eat him still. “Well...thank you. For not listening to him.” Roman said, not meeting Patton’s eyes.

Patton was quiet a moment. “Of course.”

“So...who turned you, if you don’t mind me asking?” He had a guess but he could always be wrong.

Patton blinked. He thought it would have been obvious, but he forgot not everyone knew about vampire customs. “Virgil did.”

Roman nodded. “I figured but I didn’t want to assume.” He thought for a moment. “Why did he?”

“Well, I think because he was lonely?” Patton rubbed his arm a bit, the topic making him uncomfortable. “I was actually one of his… his targets. But then when push came to shove I was crying something awful, and there was this look in his eye as all that bloodlust kinda dimmed and he didn’t seem to know what to do about it. So, he Turned me. I think he feels bad about it, with me being so lousy at being a vampire, but at least he’s not alone. When you live forever, that can be an awful long time.”

“I...I see.” Honestly, that didn’t seem like such a good thing to be. “And you ...were okay with it?”

“Ah, heh.” Patton gave a sheepish smile and rubbed the back of his neck. “I was pretty freaked. I was glad he didn’t kill me, though, so that helped.”

“I...suppose.” He almost felt like he was in a similar boat. Not dead but trapped here with a vampire for...for who knows how long. Roman bit his lip. “How...How long do you plan on keeping me here?”

Patton’s smile turned the smallest bit strained. “Roman, I… you do realize if I let you go, Virgil might do something he’ll regret?”

Roman did not like where this was going. “Y-Yes but surely at some point you’ll be able to...to let me leave.”

“Virgil and I live forever.” Patton reminded him quietly. “We both have your scent, and he’s stronger and faster than I ever could be.”

Roman deflated. “N-No…”

“Roman, oh Roman, it’s going to be okay!” Patton said hurriedly, laying on his stomach to be eye level with the borrower. “Oh, come now, it’s not going to be so bad, I promise!”

“No! I can’t be stuck here for the rest of my life! That-That might not seem like a long time to you since you live forever or whatever but I have a life! And I would like to go back to it!” Tears started to fall and he wiped them away, not meeting Patton’s eyes again. “Please.”

Patton felt an aching in his chest, his gaze turning quite pitying at the sight of the borrower’s tears. But what could he do? He couldn’t just let Roman go, he’d feel terrible if anything happened to Roman because of him! He already felt terrible, considering he had brought this whole borrower mess home in the first place and now Virgil was stressed and Patton was miserable and Roman was trapped. It really wasn’t fair, but Patton didn’t think many things were fair nowadays.

“Aw, hey, don’t cry.” Patton cooed softly. “I understand, I- would you mind telling me about your life?”

Roman sniffed, warily glancing at Patton. “W-Well...I left home to be on my own when I was sixteen. I moved into Thomas’ apartment, although he didn’t own it at the time. I was...alone for about a year after that, borrowing food and such things in order for me to build my home and survive.” Roman explained, not caring about the rules at this point. It wasn’t like they were helping him now.

Patton gave a soft nod, encouraging Roman to continue opening up.

“And then...um, I…” He bit his lip. He shouldn’t reveal Logan. He couldn’t. Then they would know for sure and then Virgil would never give up looking. “And...then Thomas moved in eventually and things got weird for a bit but then I settled again and...yeah.” He finished lamely.

“Did Thomas know you’re there?” Patton suddenly realized he had forgotten to ask his friend. Oh no, was Thomas worried?

“No, no. No one is supposed to know that borrowers exist. For our...own safety…” He trailed off. This situation was a good example of why his kind was meant to be secret.

“So you were just...all alone?” Patton clarified.

Roman simply nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. He didn’t want to be caught in his lie, after all.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Patton looked sympathetic. “Weren’t you lonely? Why’d you leave your family?”

“I wanted to make my own out in the world.” Roman answered. “And...no. I was perfectly content being on my own.” He lied.

“Why?” Patton couldn’t imagine that, being the only one of your kind around. Being a vampire could be isolating but at least he had Virgil...who probably knew exactly how that felt. “I mean, how’d you even pass the time? What does a borrower do, anyhow?”

“I told you. We borrow to survive and make our homes. I would go on walks sometimes and maybe go looking for bugs or rats to fight but that’s about it.” Roman answered, shrugging. Which, was mostly true except he also had Logan to talk with as well.

“So...why can’t you do all those things here?” Patton suggested.

“That-it’s...it’s not the same.” Roman argued. “I want to go back to the life where I wasn’t trapped and in constant fear!”

“You don’t have to be in constant fear!” Patton insisted. “And I’m just trying to make it, well, homier here for you. I- I know you don’t like this, and you probably hate me, but it doesn’t have to be terrible. I mean, do you really want to stay miserable like this?”

“...No, I really don’t. But I hardly see any way for you to make this situation better.” Roman said, motioning around him. He sighed. “You can’t change the fact that I’m here against my will.”

“Well, I mean, but you could?” Patton offered. “It’s… well, if you just accepted that I’m trying to help you, it wouldn’t exactly be against your will then, now would it.”

“Maybe not...but I just can’t change my mind like that.” Roman admitted.

“I know.” Patton gave a soft sigh. He had once been in a similar boat, after all. “But hopefully you’ll change your mind sooner rather than later. It’s sad seeing you...sad.”

“Yes, well, I also hate feeling sad but, again, not much I can do about it.” Roman sighed. “Can I just...be put back in the chest?” He wanted to be alone right now.

“Sure thing, kiddo.” Patton gently cupped his hands, scooping Roman up and placing him back in the chest. “Do you need anything?”

Roman never thought he would be happy to be back in the chest. But here he was. “...Um, more food? If-If you don’t mind.” He was still quite hungry. “And some water?”

“Of course.” Patton left for less than a minute, his super speed coming in handy as he placed the refilled water dish in the chest. For good measure, Patton placed the rest of the food at the other end of the chest, figuring that while Roman would likely not finish all of it he had the right to choose what he wanted and eat as much of it as he desired. Patton owed him that much.

Roman’s mouth watered at the food and he nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Beat. “Bye, Roman.” And with that, Patton closed the chest.

Roman sighed, once again bathed in darkness. “Bye.” He muttered, before going over to the food and starting to eat. At least this was good.

#vampire perspective #vampire!patton #borrower!roman #snack roman heh #perspective series #part 4

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the-coldest-goodbye · 5 years

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Sansa Stark - SFW Alphabet Headcanons

Sansa Stark x reader

A/N: I know no queen but the Queen in the North, whose name is Stark. This is my first time writing for Sansa, so I hope it doesn’t feel too OOC. (GIF not mine — found on Google.)

CW: Mentions of abuse, trauma, and scars.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Sansa doesn’t show much physical PDA since she has a reputation to uphold as an important figure in the North. Instead, she shows her affection publicly through teasing, joking, and little knowing glances. Occasionally she might hold or touch your hand in public when she’s not actively ruling, like walking around the grounds of Winterfell or during meals/feasts. In private, she tends to be more physically affectionate with gentle touches.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

As a best friend, Sansa can be hard to pin down. She’s understandably very busy with all of her responsibilities as she leads the North, so she’s often swamped with business. Even when she’s not actively ruling or working out logistics, she’s still thinking about all of it and trying to work things out. Much of her life is dominated by politics, so politics will inevitably play a big role in your life as well if you want to be part of her inner circle. For you to be her best friend, she would have to consider you trustworthy enough to confide in. She craves someone faithful with whom she can share everything that’s cluttering her mind, who will listen to her and give competent advice.

Sansa would really benefit from having a friend who can also serve as an escape from her duties when need be, though. Despite having to spend her days being fairly dignified, she loves being able to take breaks from that with teasing and gossiping and being silly. She cherishes that you’re able to embrace the different facets of her life and that you stick with her through the serious times and delight in the bursts of lighthearted moments. In return, she is loyal and protective of you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Initially, Sansa is uncomfortable with cuddling and physical touch after all of the trauma she’s lived through, so you have to give her space and let her take the lead. Once she gets more comfortable with you, she does quite like cuddling. She revels in the intimacy of the two of you laying on your sides facing each other, one of her hands grasping yours, her other hand stroking your face. When you lay on your back, she likes to curl into your side and rest her head on your chest, feeling the movement of your breathing and listening to your heartbeat. These types of quiet, intimate moments help restore her faith in the idea that true gentleness still exists in the world.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Gone are Sansa’s days of fantasizing about the glamour of the South. She’s seen the reality of it all, and now she is more sure than ever that the North is her true home. All she wants now is to live out the rest of her days in Winterfell.

She was raised a Lady and was very skillful in domestic duties, learning the logistics of running a noble house as well as other undertakings expected of women such as needlework. Nowadays, she’s more concerned with actually leading Winterfell and the North more than taking on the traditional “ladylike” duties. Domestic chores like cooking and cleaning fall to handmaidens and servants while Sansa is busy meeting with Northern Lords and Ladies, reviewing ledgers, and reviewing logistics with advisors. However, she still loves sewing and embroidery, but she doesn’t have a chance to do it as often as she’d like.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If Sansa had to end things with you, it would hurt her but she would get it done as cleanly as possible. Her voice may shake and tears may well up in her eyes, but she would try not to falter too much. She would be honest without being too blunt as she doesn’t want to hurt you.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Sansa would be very slow to get married despite her affection for you. She’s been forced into two unwanted marriages, the second of which was particularly gruesome. She’s suspicious about marriage and doubts the concept of true love, and understandably so. It would take her a long time before she decided she was ready to get married, and only after she was completely positive that you were the right person. She wants to feel fully in control and fully confident in any marriage she’s to enter, so even if you were in a long-term and emotionally committed relationship with her, it would be years before she’d agree to a marriage.

She’s been used as a pawn to strengthen others politically for so much of her life that an ideal partnership for her would be based on love and not just politics. While she understands the power of political alliance through marriage, it’s not something she wants. She’d much rather remain unmarried for the rest of her life than marry for politics. She wants to have the agency to choose her own partner. As much as she’s grown away from the idealistic and romantic girl she once was, a part of her still yearns for a romance like in the songs she listened to as a child.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Sansa is very physically gentle, though she’s not as emotionally gentle as she once was. She has a very complex inner emotional life, and she has a lot of trauma that she’ll spend years trying to fight back and eventually work through. She can go from being warm to coming across as closed off, aloof, or cold. She’s typically pretty emotionally gentle in how she treats you, though sometimes she’ll still be in Lady-mode where her responses to you feel overly formal or impersonal. Physically, through, she is extremely gentle. She has an aversion to rough touches. She likes being in control too, and it takes a long time until she feels comfortable enough relinquishing control to you in intimate situations.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

She typically doesn’t hug when she’s on duty, but Sansa hugs quite a lot when you’re alone together. The feeling of being wrapped in each other’s arms is soothing to her. She loves anything from hugging you from behind, to standing beside you and putting her arm around your waist, to full-on hugs where she’s grasping onto you as if you’ll disappear if she lets go. She’s spent so long being devoid from gentle, loving touches that once she overcomes her discomfort being touched by another person, she is quite touch-starved and wants all the tenderness in the world from you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Sansa is not very fast in saying that she loves you. She shows it through her actions much faster than she says it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

She gets jealous fairly easily, and her jealousy really manifests in her being a bit snotty and cold when she’s jealous. While this jealousy is typically directed towards whoever she feels like is challenging her position in your life, her coldness sometimes transfers to you as well. She can be short and snippy at you until you reassure her that you love her and she has no reason to be jealous.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Sansa’s kisses range from sweet and chaste to passionate and demanding. Regardless of the intensity, though, you can tell by her kisses that she cares so deeply for you. Her affection is apparent in even the lightest of pecks from her. It’s like all of the feelings she can’t verbalize come out through her kisses. She likes to give and receive small tender kisses on the forehead, cheeks, lips, and the tops of hands. In more passionate and intense moments, she focuses most of her kisses on your mouth, jaw, and neck. She particularly loves the feeling of her and your tongues intermingling in each other’s mouths.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

She’s always been good with children and they like her. She likes playing with them and telling them stories. Despite her trying to present herself as the serious and stoic lady of Winterfell, she always smiles at passing children. She also cares deeply about the children in the North and has a particular soft spot for helping the Northerners out whenever children are concerned to keep them safe, warm, and fed. Though she might not admit it out loud, she feels a lot of sadness thinking back to how her childhood innocence was ripped from her, and she doesn’t want that to happen to other children.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Sansa wakes up very early because of her countless duties. She’ll try not to disturb you as she’s getting ready for the day. Once every week or two, though, she’ll sleep in and relish a lazy morning with you, having her handmaiden bring the two of you breakfast in bed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Sansa has long days and stays up late to focus on the management of the North, poring over scrolls and ledgers with the Maester or an advisor. If you are already in bed by the time she returns to your chambers, she’ll be careful not to wake you as she prepares for bed, though she’ll snuggle into you and pepper your face with gentle kisses when she climbs in next to you.

At least a few nights a week, though, she tries to retire early so she can spend some time sewing and relaxing with you. She especially loves to share a bath with you and then brush out each other’s hair before bed in front of the fire. Some nights, the two of you sneak down to the kitchens for a late night snack. Sansa has a sweet tooth, so the cooks usually keep some spare sweets around for her to snack on.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Sansa is very, very slow to reveal things about herself. She’s survived so many traumatic experiences, and it’ll take her a very long time to divulge everything that has happened, if ever. There are some things that she really doesn’t want to bring up, and there’s a chance she might never fully reveal them. When it comes to more trivial information, such as her favorite color or favorite story, she reveals tidbits here and there. She has so many duties nowadays that sharing little things like that can feel silly or inconsequential, but it softens her when you insist that it’s not silly for her to talk about her favorite songs and favorite flowers, and that you genuinely care to learn about who she is on a more intimate level than just knowing her as a leader.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Sansa is pretty easily irritated, especially when she’s feeling unheard. Her anger mostly manifests in her words and attitude. She typically shows her anger or irritation through her snark. She’s cold and curt when angry. She would only ever really physically lash out at someone and slap them in the heat of the moment if they really crossed the line, but it’s rare for her to get that angered. She’s a bit better at putting up a cool, level-headed front when she’s doing her duties and addressing the Northern leaders, though her snark still can come out at times in those more formal situations. However, she’s much quicker to show her annoyance when in less public situations with she’s with people she’s closer, when she doesn’t have to be as political or diplomatic.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

She remembers everything. (The North remembers, and so does Sansa!)

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

She can’t pick out a singular favorite moment with you, but she treasures all of the little moments she shares with you when the two of you are alone and she can briefly forget everything — her past, her duties, etc. She loves it when the two of you can just be sweet and silly together. She had her childhood ripped out from beneath her, and now she has to publicly be a strong and serious leader. When the two of you in private can be carefree, giggling and gossiping and braiding each other’s hair, it would feel so comforting to her. She would find it almost empowering in a sense, like she’s able to reclaim at least a small part of her youth that was taken from her.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Sansa is very protective of you, but she’s not particularly skilled at being physically protective. (It’s okay, though, because you have Brienne for that!) Sansa in particular would be protective of you in conversations, always sticking up for you and shaming anyone who would try to put you down. She would also protect you by making sure you’re taken care of and that you have everything you need. Though she doesn’t expect you to stick up for her, it would warm her heart if you did. She’s spent so many years of her life being ridiculed and dismissed and ignored that having you scold anyone who cuts her off mid-speech or dismisses her ideas would mean so much to her. It also means a lot when she notices that you’re being protective of her emotionally. It takes a lot of vulnerability for her to open up to anyone about the things she’s been through, even you, and so you trying to make sure she’s never put in situations like that ever again is so meaningful. She also appreciates that you’re patient and compassionate with her as she tries to continue to process her trauma.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Because Sansa is very busy with her duties, she wouldn’t be able to put a lot of effort into special romantic gestures every day, and you also wouldn’t get very many traditional date nights with her, but she puts a lot of effort into anniversaries, birthdays, and holidays. You almost always get a beautifully hand-sewn gift from her that is meticulously embroidered and fits you like a glove. She also tries to make sure that the cooks in the kitchen are able to make your favorite foods from time to time, even if the ingredients are hard to come by in the North. (She can empathize because she knows that lemon cake struggle now that she’s back in the North.)

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Sansa can be very distant and she won’t open up to you as fast as you may hope. Without warning, she can pull back and withdraw herself from you for a while. Sometimes the stress of her position carries over into your relationship. (You can’t stand it when she accidentally talks to you in her overly formal politician voice.) She can be cruel or cold if she wants.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Sansa is not quite as concerned as she was when she was younger and her mind was fixated on beauty in any sense, but she still likes to look well put together. Given her role as a public figure, she feels the need to look presentable. Her clothes nowadays tend to provide more coverage, partly because it’s cold in the North, but mostly because she’s covered in scars, reminders of Ramsay’s abuse. One of the only places on her body that Ramsay didn’t permanently scar is her face. She often has a hard time looking at her bare body because of the very real reminders of the horrors that she’s been through.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

She’d find a way to power through without you, but her world would feel a lot colder and grayer.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Arya and Bran would quickly know of your relationship with Sansa despite trying to be discreet. You’d face a lot of scrutiny from them when they’re initially learning about you and the type of person you are because they know all of the terrible things that Sansa has been through and they want to make sure you’re a kind person who will treat her well.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Sadism. Being dismissed or ignored.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Sansa tosses and turns a lot in her sleep, and often has night terrors. She feels guilty that it often wakes you up, but she’s relieved that you’re there by her side to comfort her. She gets overheated easily when she sleeps, so she usually has her feet poking out from underneath the furs to try to regulate her body temperature a bit, or she’ll sometimes sleep with a window open (when it’s not winter) to get a nice chill in the room.

#Sansa Stark #Sansa #Game of Thrones #GOT #Sansa Stark x reader #Sansa x reader #Sansa Stark headcanons #Sansa headcanons #Sansa Stark headcanon #Sansa headcanon

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