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luvlyrv · 3 years

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Naughty | pt. 1 | Irene x F!Reader | Mafia!AU

Summary: Two crime bosses entangled in a deadly and tension filled rivalry start to find themselves entangled in a different kind of relationship.

Not without going through a lot of death, pain, fighting and teasing first of course.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I hope you’re as excited about this as I am. I hope to get feedback!

Date: 1/9/21

Series Masterlist

Part 1: Cat and Mouse

You listen to the murmur of busybodies and your booming footsteps as you walk around the now not-so-abandoned warehouse your family resided in. You watched as your soldiers gambled amongst each other while sharing glares and smiles at the same time. You watched as people loaded in and out new shipments. With a sigh, the tall man next to you took a long step forward, turning and blocking your path.

"Y/N, are you even listening to me?" Taehyung asked, his eyes furrowed at the sight of you spacing out.

"Yeah, sure. Jesus, Taehyung give me some space. I need some time to think." You respond with a raspy voice.

You stand there as Taehyung continues towering over you, thinking about his next move. His eyes soften a bit as he sighs again.

"Alright, how about I drive you back to your place and you take some time to think about our next move?"

You give him a small and barely noticeable nod. He takes your hand to lead you out of the warehouse and down the streets, into a discreet area perfect for a discreet car, and begins to drive you home.

You stare out the window while listening to Taehyung's soft humming. The street lights zooming by as you begun to find yourself sinking into your thoughts. It was strange, really. A mafia family is a family that is filled with trust and family-like bonds, yet also filled with treachery and distrust. As much as you'd like to trust everyone who worked for you, to truly do so would be silly.

Here he was though, Taehyung, your childhood friend taking the time to drive you home. You knew that he was your weak spot. He could be the death of you. He could betray you at any moment and climb from his underboss rank to take over yours. You trusted him anyways. It's tiring, really, to always be looking behind your back. Hell, if trusting him with such a high position was a mistake, you'd be okay with it.

God knows how tired you are. Having Taehyung be your underboss, as risky as it was, was a welcomed relief to your shoulders. As much as he jokes and slacks off with you, he gets his job done. You would congratulate him on a job well done, but you didn't need his ego to be any bigger.

The sudden stillness of the scenery pulls you out of your thoughts. You realize you're finally at your mansion. Taehyung steps out of the car and opens the door for you. He stretches out his hand for you to take it, you thank him and allow him to escort you instead your brilliantly glowing house that was isolated from everyone else.

"You can stay in the guest bedroom if you're tired."

"Are you sure, Y/N?"

"Taehyung, you know I could never use up all those rooms at once."

You're both inside the living room of your mansion now. Your underboss goes a separate direction from you, instinctually going to the guestroom he often uses, as you go upstairs and into your bathroom. You turn on the lights and slowly make your way to your mirror.

The bright lights that illuminate your bathroom stands in stark contrast to the dark look on your face. You examine yourself, seeing how no matter how much light shined in your eyes they couldn't help but seem dull and lifeless. Your button-up was now partially unbuttoned. It was wrinkled and half-tucked. Worst of all there were blotches of an all too familiar red liquid all over it.

You run your hands through your hair. You'd be lying if you said you didn't look like shit. You reeked of death. You also reeked of sin. You can't help but feel your lips tug into a small smirk. Damn, you've lived a life steeping in sin, arguably you're one of the most scummy people out there, yet here you are, on the verge of a breakdown.

You've faced death how many times now? You've flirted with him so much he could give you a booty call if he wanted. You've seen death so much you can remember his smell, his aura, and the aftermath he leaves behind. So why was this time so different?

Maybe it's because every other time you've faced death it was expected. This time, it wasn't, because you aren't one for mistakes. This was the first time you've fucked up in a world where, arguably, you cannot afford to. Was this the price you paid? A failed deal and several dead members?

You don't want to continue thinking about the sight anymore, let alone what you did to the poor attackers afterwards. You turn on the water in your shower, allowing steam to begin filling up the room. You breathe in the warm air and step inside.

Perhaps here in the shower you could wash away the blood, the pain, the regrets. Maybe the water could purify your body and your soul. You slowly wash yourself as you find yourself entering a different train of thought.

Irene.

You clench up your first.

Anger brewed up inside you as you couldn't help but to think about the bloodshed from earlier, knowing it was all from Irene. Not even just Irene, but that punk-ass Joseph. God, how dare he even consider it?

Joseph wasn't a made man, he was just an associate, but a long-time one at that. He knew your power, there would be no reason to turn against you except for one.

He thought Irene was more powerful than you. She offered him more money than you did, more protection than you did.

First things first, you had to make Joseph pay for messing with your family. You had to make him pay for being the direct cause of the deaths you watched today. Then afterwards you had to go for her. The one who's been ruining your plans since day one.

Being a female boss was not easy. It's hard to prove your strength when you're constantly dismissed, when every mistake and failure is put on a spotlight and everyone perceives you as weak. Despite all of that though, you quickly rose through the ranks and became notorious. Young, inspired, tactful, and ruthless was what you were.

Rising through the ranks in a different family though, was the infamous Irene. Young, inspired, tactful, and ruthless was what she was.

So tonight the unofficial rivalry between you and Irene would become official. You'd declare war. You would take the top spot in the criminal world and snuff out Irene's hopes and dreams. You would be the best.

You finish up showering and adorn yourself in more comfortable attire to rest in. You go downstairs to the guest room Taehyung was staying in and knocked on the door. Immediately, the door opened and Taehyung's face was in front of yours.

"Yes?"

You look over his shoulder to see the lamp turned on, he had been overviewing the month's financial records.

"We need to gut through our associates immediately. Interrogate them and see which ones were close with Joseph or had possible contact with other mob members outside our family. If they have, just kill them."

Taehyung just raises a brow, but understands. "Joseph was the one who leaked the info wasn't he? He's the reason why..."

"Yeah."

"They had a lot of potential." Taehyung nods while thinking, "I can contact the capos about that right now." He begins to walk to the bedside table and reaches for his phone.

"After that though, we need to find the whereabouts of Irene."

Taehyung stops for a bit.

"You want to go after her? Already?"

"We've built up our forces. We should do it now before she pulls more bullshit like this and we take more damage."

"Are you sure you're in the right state of mind?"

You step into the room, pushing against Taehyung as he hits the bed and sits there, a stunned look on his face.

"Don't forget that I'm your fucking boss, Taehyung. You listen to me, and what I'm saying right now is that we need to find Irene and everything she owns. Now."

Taehyung just looks down, a quiet breath leaving his lungs.

"Yes, boss."

You leave the room feeling a bit bad, but you needed to get things done quick and you couldn't afford going soft on Taehyung just because he was your friend. Your feet make a soft thud as you go up the stairs and enter your bedroom. You open a drawer and pull out your most prized possession.

The gift your father left you, a beautiful shining silver pistol with a rose engraving on the handle. You smile as you feel the familiar and comfortable weight in your hand.

"I can't wait to use this on you."

You and Irene have just entered a dangerous game of cat and mouse.

#bae joohyun #bae juhyun #red velvet #red velvet kpop #red velvet scenarios #kpop writing #kpop au #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #gg scenarios #gg imagines #gg writing #red velvet x reader #bae joohyun x reader #irene x reader #irene red velvet #kpop x reader #mafia au

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lovelyfeh · 4 years

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Comin right up my dear! Hope you enjoyed this prompt, angst is still one of my favorite things to write! I used gender neutral pronouns for Grima since you didn’t specify which one! Hope that’s alright!! Hopefully this came out ok or how you wanted it to, if not rewrites are always open!! (I’m so so sorry this is so late but hey!! I’m back everyone :)

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

➼Grima had never been the friendliest hero in the Askrian castle (if you could even call them a hero). Cold, rude, and constantly spouting threats at anyone who even looked at them the wrong way. They were the fell dragon after all, so you were never very surprised when Chrom or Lucina came to you with another complaint about them.

➼But for some odd reason they seemed very... attached to you. At first they had been distant, the same with you as everyone else, but it had barely taken them any time at all before they grew quite accustomed to you. (And it’s not as if you were complaining, while Grima wasn’t exactly friendly their overprotective nature was cute!) You often found yourself spending the day with them, making friendly small talk considering they tried to ignore you or called your talk ‘pointless’ most of the time.

➼As for Grima themselves, they weren’t sure why they were like this towards you. You were nothing, a mere worm in their presence. But the more they listened to your useless chatter, the more you practically glued yourself to their side , they found an odd feeling growing in their chest. Something they couldn’t explain, which was on the verge of driving them mad. Maybe someone had hexed them? They’d be sure to find out who.

➼Grima was one of your strongest heroes, always joining you and your main team to dispatch enemies. They were more than happy to kill, and sometimes even seemed even more eager when killing for you. They showed off the many soldiers that they practically shredded to you, and although it was disgusting, you’d smile sweetly and congratulate them.

➼But even evil gods needed breaks, according to Anna. Today was Grima’s off duty day, and you could tell they were a little more than irritated with this. They followed you around and complained about it all day, repeating the same mantra of how ‘you’d never win without them there’ and ‘they were the strongest god in the entire castle’. You could only roll your eyes playfully at their childish whining.

➼You assured them you would be fine,

➼An hour or two passes before the crackle of magic filled the air, and a burning portal opened between the magic stones. The healer tents and backup heroes that had camped nearby all snapped to alert, but no one came through for a good while.

➼And then their replacement stumbled through, someone slumped over on her back. Her clothes were filthy and smeared with blood, but she didn’t seem injured whatsoever, rather the person crudely bandaged up in stained white cloth on her back was. She called out for healers, shifting the lifeless figure into her arms, and Grima managed to get a good look at the wounded person. And then their heart stopped.

➼That was you. You had been practically ripped open, your cloak in tatters and wrapped around your middle in a desperate attempt to stop your open wound. You weakly writhed in pain as healers frantically rushed to your side and placed hands on your injuries to stop the blood, and the cry you made finally spurred Grima into action.

➼They shove others out of the way, hissing and growling at anyone who challenged them. They pushed their replacement away, cradling your head in their hands and not failing to notice the way your eyes stare blankly ahead.

➼“You idiot! You damned fool! Who did this to you? This wouldn’t have happened if I were there! And now...”

➼You were to weak to argue, instead letting out a small whine and grasping their cloak. They stopped themselves from yelling at you any further, instead redirecting their anger to the rest of the heroes finally retreating through the portal and the woman that went instead of them.

➼While you were whisked away, Grima screeched and yelled at Alfonse until he finally spilled the story. You had been unguarded, left in the open while trying to catch up with your personal guard. An axe wielder had easily cornered you, and before any of them knew it, Mareeta had spotted you stumbling towards them desperately with major injuries and soldiers hot on your heels to finish the job.

➼Grima was angry. Beyond furious. They wanted to find those miserable creatures that hurt you and make them pay. They wanted them to feel exactly what you felt. They wanted them to die.

➼But they waited, worry they would never admit to feeling gnawing at Grima’s cold heart. They ripped flowers to shreds from a nearby field to release the fury building for what seemed like ages until a healer shot a flare to alert any worried heroes that you were in stable condition.

➼The morning sun had disappeared, replaced with purple skies and twinkling stars. You had been in healing for so long that Grima wondered they’d even be allowed to see you, but Lissa fearfully allowed them inside when they arrived.

➼Their heart skipped a beat at the sight of you. You were still, eyes closed. You would’ve looked peaceful if it weren’t for the bloody bandages wrapped around you and your unnaturally pale cheeks. Silently, Grima stood by your bedside, glaring at the spots of blood covering the bedsheets. They would find who did this to you. Even if it killed them, they would put that worm through hell.

➼“Grima....?”

➼They returned their gaze to you, surprised to see you awake at all. Your eyes were tired. They felt another spout of anger rise in their chest, but quickly stuffed it down in favor of gently taking your hand.

➼“You are an idiot. You should have let me come with you. I would have never let this happen to you.”

➼You said nothing, closing your eyes again. They felt you squeeze their hand gently, as if in confirmation of their words. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, “it was my fault I was injured. Please don’t blame Mareeta or the Order.”

➼And of course they did. They were inadequate. Useless pests that could do nothing but panic at the sight of you covered in your own blood. But they did not respond to your words, instead placing their forehead against your hand.

➼“It matters not. For now, rest. I will deal with the vermin who did this to you in the morning. I will be protecting you from now on.”

➼The weak smile you gave them was enough to make Grima’s heart flutter. This was uncharacteristic of them, to be as nice and doting as they were right now, but for some odd reason they didn’t mind you seeing this side of them (that truthfully they didn’t even know they had).

➼As you drifted off back to sleep, hand still in theirs, they thought they heard you say something. It was so quiet, barely even a whisper, but Grima managed to catch the end of it. ‘Love you’.

➼And the Fell Dragon would never admit to you that as you slept, they left a small kiss on your forehead in response to yours words.

#fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #feh #grima x reader #mod cordelias book of imagines #hope you enjoyed!!

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starstruckmyths · 3 years

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Someone gets a giant Teddy bear for Steve, mostly as a prank. But ability to have someone bigger and cuddly with him in the bed was a thing Steve missed a lot after waking up in the new century.

Post ws Bucky breaking in to the apartment finds Steve curled into a ball and burrowed in to the embrace of a giant Teddy bear.

Clint won him on the annual fair at the shooting stall.

An argument was made it was cheating, but Clint was no super soldier, no engineered person with enhancements or robotics. He was just a guy with impeccable aim, and that bear was his.

Not to keep to himself, no. Laura had told him a dozen times already he had to stop winning all the toys on the fair, their kid’s room could store no more! So, who’s it going to then? Tash already has her own, and she likes it small so a life-sized bear does not fit with that (she likes her small bunny just fine).

He thinks about giving it to Thor, but just at that moment Steve walks into his life on vision with the most kicked-puppy expression on his face. Bingo. Right after, he trusts the soft, plush bear into Steve’s hand, slapping him on his shoulder and congratulating him with his prize. Then he quickly walks off before Steve can try to give it back.

Only Steve didn’t even think about that.

The bear is so soft and big in his arms, still warm from where Clint had held it and carried it around. He wraps his arms a little tighter around the bear, burying his nose into its head. It smelled like dirt and new fabric.

That night, he puts the stuffed animal into his bed. The bear lies on its back, and Steve hugs around it, tucking his head in a little to fit. It’s not the same, but it’s enough for now. He misses the arms around him, misses the steady rising and falling. He misses the soft breathing and the lips to his hair. The bear is nice. It’ll do.

If his friends knew - which they probably did - they didn’t say anything of it. He appreciated that. Every night, he curled himself around the large plushy and imagined it was something else. Imagined it was a real body, a real person. Imagined it was someone bigger than him, who could hold him closely and keep him company.

A brief moment of hope had sparked in his chest when he did see the one he had been picturing in his head all this time. A warm feeling in his chest expanding at the thought of having someone yet again, someone to hold him but it died as soon as it came with the fading footsteps of the metal-armed man, and the darkness that befell him.

When he came home again after the hospital, he briefly contemplated just throwing the whole damn thing out. It was useless. It was stupid. It was... it was.. pathetic.

He crawled in bed and curled up around the bear, perhaps even tighter than he ever had before. He put one of the bear’s lifeless arms around his back, sighing softly when he fell it fall back to the mattress instead of staying around him. He shook his head, and closed his eyes.

It’s not the same as before.

But it’s enough.

The last thing he noticed before he dozed off to the land of dreams was a moving arm, curling around him tightly as if to hold, and a puff of breath ghosting along his face. A set of lips touched his hair, and a world of warmth engulfed him from behind.

A teddy bear in his arms, and a warm body against his back. Arms around him so tightly, and a beating heart to keep him company.

It’s not the same as before.

It’s even better.

|X|

I absolutely adore this ask, this is such a cute, fluffy thing I LOVE. A big teddy bear and Steve curling around it, imagining it’s someone else? YES PLEASE. PLEASE AND THANK YOU. Your honor please, he’s just trying to find comfort🥺❤️

Thank you so much for giving me this!❤️

#stucky #stucky au #steve rogers #my writing #stucky ficlet #I loved writing this #it's so cuteee #bucky barnes #stevebucky #buckysteve

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habibialkaysani · 3 years

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Touch (Laurel/Nyssa; T) - earth-44

Ships: Laurel/Nyssa

Summary: Laurel and Nyssa. Dinah and Amina. Green Arrow and the Black Canary. Daredevil and the Black Sky. The Flash and Vibe.

Across the multiverse, they go by many names, surrounded by different people at different times in their lives. But there is one golden link between the Dinah Laurel Lances and Nyssa Raatkos across the infinite earths - that they always find each other. And every time, their story starts with a single touch.

A/N: As I recently watched The Old Guard, I was inspired by the dynamic between Joe and Nicky and immediately dreamed up (as I so often do) a Lauryssa AU for those characters. So here is a little bit of it - and then there will be an expansion of that story as a separate fic, to come sometime soon I hope as it’s half-finished.

Read at AO3

Earth-44

(In which Laurel and Nyssa are immortals who have been together for a thousand years fighting righteous battles side by side as part of an army, a la Nicolo di Genova and Yusuf al-Kaysani in The Old Guard.)

The chains cut coldly on Laurel's wrists, drawing blood, but she barely noticed as she continued to struggle against them. She had eyes only for Nyssa. Even after an eternity of witnessing the love of her life die and come back, Laurel could not bear to even contemplate a world without Nyssa in it.

There were questions, vague and half-formed in her mind, about why they were taken, where the others were, particularly their newest recruit, Sarah Diggle, for whom Laurel and Nyssa already felt responsible.

Laurel wanted to know who these soldiers around them were, where they were going - and, of course, the age-old question about whether they had finally been caught, and if they would be put in a cage as a lab experiment.

But at the forefront of Laurel's thoughts was what lay before her, and that was her beloved, her partner, and her soulmate. Nyssa was sprawled on her front, having been shot when attempting to escape her restraints, and even now as Laurel's eyes moved down further, she winced at the sight of Nyssa’s lifeless body.

This was always the worst part. While Laurel and Nyssa were hardly strangers to immortality and its secrets, no amount of dying could make Laurel used to the agonising seconds and minutes before Nyssa finally gasped back to life. And the hard truth was that despite Nyssa's words that she would always come back, they both knew this was impossible to predict. Their immortality would run out one day, and every time they got caught in the crosshairs of another enemy, Laurel wondered if today was it.

"Nyssa," she whispered, feeling a surge of anger not at the tears that stung in her eyes but that one of the soldiers - a square-jawed blond man - was eyeing her closely. "Nyssa, habibti - wake up."

But Nyssa was still motionless in the armoured van. The soldiers had shot her squarely in the back, but that had been minutes ago, surely. She should have awakened by now. Unless…

"Ya Nyssa!" Laurel cried, louder this time, and the blond soldier grabbed her by the shoulders roughly.

"Oi. Shut up!"

Laurel just ignored him, reaching out despite her restraints to touch Nyssa's cheek. "Nyssa, please. It's me, habibti. Wake up!"

"I just told you to shut the fuck up!" the soldier barked.

"Or what?" Laurel shot back. "You can kill me too if you want. I’ll just come back, and make no mistake - I'll be angrier." The guard spluttered at that, unable to form anything coherent in reply, and Laurel went back to shaking Nyssa in an effort to rouse her. "Come back to me, my love. Please." For good measure, Laurel blessed herself and said a silent prayer, and somehow, miraculously, someone upstairs seemed to have heard her, because Nyssa then started coughing.

Automatically Laurel looked up at the heavens above - obscured, of course, by the armoured ceiling of the van, which should have made it less poetic - and thanked every deity she could name in her head. There was blood in Nyssa's hair as Laurel stroked it tenderly, leaning forward so her forehead touched the crown of her beloved.

"Are you okay?" Laurel asked softly in Arabic.

"I think so," Nyssa replied, also in Arabic, before switching loudly to English. "Very pissed off, though."

"As am I," Laurel said, glowering at the blond soldier. She softened, though, in an instant when Nyssa squeezed Laurel’s hand. "I'm just glad I didn't lose you. They shot you."

"You will never lose me, hayati. And I'm fine." Nyssa groaned in pain as she lifted her shirt and the two bullets that had temporarily stymied Nyssa popped out and rolled onto the floor. Laurel could see the exit wound knitting, just under Nyssa's ribcage, and she winced. As she did so, though, she could sense the blond soldier's leer before she saw it.

"Aw, are you two together or something? Is she your girlfriend?"

Nyssa just rolled her eyes, letting out a faint sigh of fatigue and exasperation as another soldier then joined in. They knew what was going to come next - Laurel and Nyssa had been together for over a thousand years, but one thing that had worsened, rather than gotten better, was the way the world saw them.

"Feel free to make out in front of us. Always found that hot."

"To call you childish would be an insult - " Laurel snapped, "- to children, that is. You speak like prepubescent boys guided by nothing but the pathetic newfound stirring of your loins. You could not even begin to fathom with your simple mind the depths of love I have for this woman. You lack the maturity to understand how her very breath awakens my faith and her smile strengthens my soul, that even after centuries together I fall in love with her more every single day. She is not my girlfriend, little boy. She is my moral compass, my north star, my guiding light when I am lost."

"And your wife," Nyssa added helpfully and Laurel almost forgot her anger for a moment as she automatically smiled. Nyssa had a way of doing that, of tempering the storm of emotions raging in Laurel's head at the best of times.

“Yes,” Laurel said. “And she is my wife.”

Slowly, the soldier crouched down so his face was uncomfortably close to Laurel’s. “So you’ve joined the twenty-first century. Congratulations. Why the fuck should I care about that?”

Laurel did not even flinch. "Because if you so much as touch a hair on her head, you will find out just how much." For good measure, she headbutted the man, with such force that he was knocked onto his back, his head hitting the van floor with a satisfying thump.

"Ralph!" one of the other soldiers yelped, immediately going to his aid.

"He does look like a Ralph, doesn't he?" Laurel observed.

“Yeah. I think he does,” Nyssa said after a moment. “That was nice, though.”

Laurel smiled. “Yeah?”

"Indeed, my love. Romance and stamina?” Nyssa said teasingly, her chained hand going behind Laurel’s neck to pull her wife towards her. “You must save some for the rest of us, dearest." And despite their circumstances Laurel laughed.

"What do you think, Nyssa?" Laurel asked quietly. "Do you think this could be like Marrakech in '67?"

Nyssa smiled back. "You read my mind." She waited, then leaned in as if to kiss Laurel, but at the last second they both moved so quickly the soldiers didn't even have a chance to think, let alone raise their guns. With her chained hands Laurel got a hold of the two soldiers nearest her while kneeing a third between the legs. She knew from the crunching sound she heard that Nyssa had probably broken some bones, and as Laurel caught sight of Ralph feebly stirring a few feet away, she kicked his face for good measure.

Then and only then did Laurel pull Nyssa towards her for a kiss, and she sighed contentedly in her wife's mouth.

"Keys?" Laurel asked, and Nyssa shook her head. The two of them rifled through the soldiers' pockets just to be sure, but they came up with nothing. "Shit.”

“It seems we are out of luck. They must have locked us in from the inside. We must simply await our fate, habibti."

“I hate doing that,” Laurel muttered.

"I know you do, hayati, but we are out of options."

Laurel looked up, met her wife's eyes. "How are you always able to stay so enduringly patient?"

Nyssa smiled back. "Why, from centuries of practice, of course."

As if on cue, the van ground to a halt, and when the doors opened by yet more soldiers, Ralph’s unconscious body rolled out with a thump.

Laurel cleared her throat. “Any chance you motherfuckers can get these chains off us?”

"Perhaps don't lead with that, my heart," Nyssa said, but it wasn't with a lot of conviction and she was unsurprised when the soldiers ignored her words and dragged her to her feet. Next to her, they were doing the same with Laurel.

"Habibti, I love you, but you know playing nice isn't going to get us anywhere," Laurel said, annoyance laced into her tone from how the men were gripping her shoulders with far more force than necessary.

"True. We are usually better judges of character," Nyssa said, speaking now to the woman who had orchestrated this whole fiasco - Amanda Waller.

Waller didn't reply, just glowered back at Nyssa.

"It's a nice plane, Amanda," Laurel said, as Nyssa was frogmarched onto the plane waiting for them.

"There's a TV, Laurel!" Nyssa called over her shoulder, and Laurel couldn't suppress her laugh if she wanted to.

"Ooh! Any champagne?" Laurel asked, her heart soaring when the words elicited a laugh from her love.

Her smile was short-lived, though, as Waller brought up the rear and the plane door closed behind them. This was Laurel's second worst fear come true, of capture and inevitable experimentation, and she wondered if it would lead to her greatest fear of all - that she would be separated eternally from her beloved.

She closed her eyes, as she was being strapped onto the seat of the plane next to her wife. The restraints around her ankles were unnecessarily tight and Laurel could barely move her wrists, but in that moment she felt the gentle press of a single finger hooking around one of hers. It was Nyssa, reassuring her through the tiniest touch that she was there, that she was okay, that they would be, and Laurel wanted so badly to seize Nyssa's hand and kiss it, but she couldn't.

So instead, she squeezed her wife's finger in return, and then murmured the prayer that she hoped was sent up to the heavens, for the two of them to emerge from this intact and together.

Tagging: @skydisneylover @stungunmilly2 @mewis-sisters @therewas-a-girl @bulbasaurfan93 @nyssalance @istanlena @abbyscameron @nyxxyn22 @ineedhelp25fan @theolivekiddo @me-and-sweatpants @rainboisland

#laurel x nyssa #lauryssa #black assassin #laurel lance #nyssa al ghul #arrow #the old guard au #the old guard #arrow fanfiction #mine #my fic #homophobia tw #fic: touch

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minghaocouture · 4 years

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Pyrrhic Victory: Chapter 1

A/N SO I did the thing and ended up making a full storyline for the SVT write night prompt I did. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction and I have no issues with any of the idols featured in this! I’m saying this because a lot of people will be dying in this fic.

Battle Royale AU!

Warning: Blood, Violence, Death, Language, Angst, Descriptions of Anxiety and Panic (If i missed any, please tell me)

Rating: M (for Warnings listed above)

Pairing: Jeonghan x Reader

Chapter List: One/Two

Eyes sluggishly pushed open, your body feeling the hard floor beneath you. Uncomfortable and cold in your school uniform. Your thoughts reeled, the last thing you remember was being in a school bus. Your class had been...going on a trip? Yeah you had a school trip, everyone had been looking forward to it since it had been announced around two months ago.

So now the question was, where were you now?

Pushing yourself up from where you had been laying, feeling the cold tarp underneath your palms. Looking around you noticed familiar faces, classmates, some had also woken up but others still lay there unconscious. The room looked a bit like a classroom, wooden chairs scattered the room, but no desks. The strangest thing was that the floor and walls were covered in a clear tarp. Scanning the room you eyes landed on your best friend, Kim Sojung, still asleep on the floor. As quickly as you could you crawled over to her, gently attempting to rouse her from the confines of unconsciousness.

As she slowly came to, you took another look around the room. No one else seemed to know what was going on either, and they were only talking in whispers to their friend groups. Turning your gaze back to Sojung as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Muttering the question that had been in your mind since you had woken.

“What’s going on? Where are we?” You simply shrugged and shook your head in response. Her hand quickly grasped yours, the two of you watching as other students woke up. As you looked around you noticed class heart throb Yoon Jeonghan had woken, he was now conversing with his two best friends, Hong Jisoo and Choi Seungcheol. Something strange caught your eye, a metallic choker on each of the boys necks. Glancing over at Sojung, you noticed the same choker. In fact, everyone seemed to be wearing it. Reaching a hand up to your own throat you realized that you were as well.

You felt a bit of relief as the door to the tarp covered room slid open, and your teacher Kim Heechul stepped into the classroom. Maybe he could explain what was going on, he was always such a fun teacher and seemed to really enjoy his students. As he entered, the room seemed to burst into noise as everyone directed questions towards the eccentric man. He ignored everyone as he made his way over to a small TV set up, it looked rather old in style, like one you would have seen in primary school.

“Hey! Mr. Kim, what’s going on here?” One of the louder students, Jennie, yelled advancing towards him. She stopped dead in her tracks as more men and women entered the room. Each of them dressed in military fatigues and holding very real looking guns. She stepped back, rejoining her friend circle but still yelling at your teacher from there.

The soldiers filtered themselves to all corners of the room, pushing you and your classmates closer towards the center of the room. The chatter only seemed to grow louder as some students began crying out of fear, others screaming and cursing while demanding to know what was going on. A feeling of dread filled the room.

Shots rang out, and everyone became silent as Heechul casually placed the gun he had just fired onto a small table next to him. He turned his attention away from the box TV and back towards your class, huddled tightly together.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re all here instead of on a plane to Hawaii.” He began, placing a hand on his hip as his eyes scanned over your class. “Well, you’re in luck. You’ve all been chosen to be the participants in this year's Program.”

Of course you had heard of The Program. It was a television show, a drama where the characters, students, would fight to the death. Only one would survive it, and then they would even have little ‘interviews’ with the winner to simulate it being a real game. It was a work of fiction though, everyone knew that. It was just something entertaining to watch, like found footage horror movies.

No one responded to your teacher.

“That little show you’ve been watching, well it’s all real. It’ll be a fun learning experience for you. Don’t you think?” You felt your blood chill at his words. He seemed so nonchalant about the whole situation, as if he were actually hosting a game show and not sentencing you and your classmates to death. He even let out a small laugh before continuing.

“I’m sure by now, you’ve noticed your new accessories? The collars. Pretty chic wouldn’t you say? Well I have a fun video that’s going to explain everything for you! So i need you kids to sit down and stay quiet so you know how to play the game.”

“This is bullshit…” Glancing to your left you noticed, Oh Seunghee. Her eyes were narrowed as she watched your teacher. Next to her sat Ogawa Mizuki, a transfer student from Japan. The girl was latched onto Seunghee’s arm, as if it would be the thing that kept her safe now.

“I thought I asked you to be quiet?!” Before anyone could react, another shot rang out through the room and Seunghee’s body slumped to the floor. Blood trickling from the newly formed bullet wound on her forehead. Everyone’s eyes were on her now lifeless body, as your teacher clutched the gun that killed her in his hand.

Girl; Oh Seunghee - Dead. 23 to go

Screams, it was all you could hear as Sojung pulled you as far away from the now deceased Seunghee as she could. Mizuki sobbed loudly, scrambling to get away from the corpse, blood splattered slightly on her face because of how close she had been. A few students even dashed towards the door, in an attempt to escape. Only to be shoved away by the soldiers. You were frozen, unable to move on your own as your wide eyes focused on your former classmate. In the front of the class you vaguely heard Mr. Kim said something about how he wasn’t supposed to kill anyone.

This couldn’t be real.

The soldier’s fired off a few warning shots into the air, which caused the students to freeze once again. Everyone looking around to see if anyone else had fallen as Seunghee had. This time, thankfully, everyone else seemed to accounted for.

Mr. Kim clapped a few times, gaining everyone’s attention as he then pointed towards the screen. Taking the remote and starting the film.

On the screen appeared a symbol, a large ‘BR’ with a laurel wreath surrounding it. After a moment text appeared over that symbol.

“The Correct Way to Fight in Battle Royale. By the BR Law committee. ” Everyone knew this video, we had seen it on television, back when this all seemed like a tv show meant for our entertainment. The text faded away and a young woman appeared. You recognized her as a young idol, Jung Eunbi, or as she was know to the public, Eunha. The young idol wore a pair of cute camouflage overall shorts, and a bright orange shirt. The overalls had the letters BR embroidered into them, once again reminding you of exactly what was happening. Her hair in cute high pigtails, curled lightly and her makeup was done up quite nicely as well. The last detail that stood out was the fact that she was wearing a collar that matched the one that you and your classmates were wearing.

She smiled brightly as she began her speech. “Hello everyone!” She greeted, her perky voice seeming far too chipper for the situation she was about to be explaining to you. Mr. Kim clapped as she appeared, and even encouraged the student to greet the woman behind the screen.

“You students are the lucky class chosen for this year’s Battle Royale! Congratulations!” No one dared to speak, or even whisper to each other. Some students even continued to cast their gaze over towards Seunghee’s body, scared that they would be the next to go. The only thing that kept you grounded in the moment was Sojung’s hand tightly clasped in your own. Her grip so tight that you had started to lose a bit of feeling in that hand, but you didn’t push her away.

“Now I’m going to explain the rules, Listen carefully and then fight correctly! You have all been brought to this island. It is about 10km in diameter, and currently you are the only people alive on the island!” As she spoke, the screen changed. She was now standing beside a model of the island, giving you an idea of where you were and the terrain you might be dealing with.

“The island has been divided into all these little areas!” The map on screen once again transitions, placing a grid over top of the map. Making the island look almost like a chess board. “Your teacher will make announcements at 12:00 and 6:00, both AM and PM! These will tell you which areas are going to be dangerous and from what time.”

The screen transitioned again, Eunha stood in front of that same background as before. The large ‘BR’ with the laurel surrounding it. Her smile filling everyone in the room with a sense of dread.

“If you are in one of these areas, move! You want to know why?” She questioned, pausing as if she was waiting for your response. No one spoke, all simply staring at the screen. Some students, like Mizuki, were still crying, others seemed to be glued to the screen as if trying to memorize all the information that was being thrust at you. You were a part of the latter grouping.

Mr. Kim beamed at the screen and played along. Giving the most childlike ‘why?’ one could possibly exclaim.

After her pause, Eunha spoke once more “That’s where these necklaces you are wearing come in.” As if on cue, everyone reached up and touched their collars. Fearful as Eunha gestured to the collar she was wearing.

“They are completely water and shockproof, and there is no way of getting them off.” She pointed to a spot of the right of her collar. “This sensor monitors your pulse, and tells us exactly where you are and what you are doing. If you are still in a danger area when the time runs out or doing something ‘naughty’, we will send our own signal to you!” She exclaimed, a bright smile on her face as she pointed towards the screen.

“The necklace will sound an alarm and then...boom!” She threw her hands up, jumping slightly as she did. “It will explode!”

This caused more silent panic between the students. Your eyes met Sojung’s, both of you silently asking each other if that could possibly be the truth. You don’t remember the collar’s ever being a part of the show before, so they must have implemented a new design to...to make things more exciting.

“Also, trying to force it off will also cause it to explode. So please don’t try, okay?” No one dared to attempt at this point. You had already seen first hand that the people in this room weren’t above just killing you, so you had to believe that these collars were also prepared to take your lives as well.

“Ah! There is something else I need to tell you.” She said, clapping her hands together. “There is a time limit for this game! Three days is all you have! If a single survivor isn’t determined in that time then all the necklaces will automatically explode!” She explained, once again mimicking an explosion as she mentioned it. “If that happens, it means no one will win.” Pulling her hands up to mimic tears on her face. As you watched you started to hate her, you hated how happy she seemed while giving these instructions. Did she still think this was fake, just for a tv show? Or was she aware of the danger that you were all in? You didn’t care, you just hated it.

“So please, fight as hard as you can to make sure that it doesn’t end like that! Okay?” The video froze as she struck a cute pose. All eyes turned to Mr. Kim, remote in hand as he had obviously paused your instructions. Somehow his familiar cheerful smile still graced his face. “Does anyone have any questions for today's lesson so far?”

“I do.” Glancing over, Jung Wheein had her hand raised. Tear stains littered her cheeks, and her other hand grasped tightly onto the hand of her best friend, Hyejin.

“So only the person who is alive after everyone else is dead can go home?” Her question had everyone’s eyes on Mr. Kim once again. If possible his smile got bigger, and he clapped lightly.

“That’s correct Wheein. You can only go home if you are the last one alive.” He seemed proud that she had understood. He brushed a strand of black hair behind his ear as he continued. “You lucky kids get to experience the real world first hand. Life is a battle of survival, and the one who survives this will that they are worthy to continue living in the real world.”

You wanted to throw up. Anxiety pooled in your gut and ice practically ran through your veins. Before you could stop yourself, you raised your hand.

“Why us?” You tried to sound strong as you asked your question, but your voice wavered and cracked lightly. Which caused Sojung to rub her thumb over the top of your hand to try and comfort you.

Suddenly all eyes were on you and you felt yourself freeze once again, eyes locking with Mr.Kim’s. Dread set in, what if you had asked the wrong question. Would he kill you as quickly as he had Seunghee? Thoughts raced through your head in the few seconds it took for your teacher to respond once again.

“Great question, you all were chosen at random.”

So...no one had done anything wrong? It was just luck of the draw that your class was chosen for this horrible game. Was this how the previous participants felt? You didn’t think you could last through the whole game, there was no way. You weren’t even that good at your sports classes, and you didn’t think you had any skills that would help you get through these next three days much less skills that would help you...murder your classmates.

After a few moments of silence, Mr. Kim clapped his hands once again. This prompted the door to the classroom to slide open once again. Four new soldiers walked through the door, dragging large carts behind them filled to the brim with duffel bags. Mr. Kim continued to smile at the class as he started the video once more.

Eunha once again began moving on the screen. “Now you’re going to leave the classroom one by one. But before that, you will be given a bag!” She clapped excitedly as the camera panned out, showing a table in front of her. The table was littered with different items. “Inside is food and water.” She gestured to a few bottles of water on the table, and a small loaf of bread. “A compass, map, flashlight,” Her hands moved once again, this time lifting up a small resealable bag that held the specified items. She even took the flashlight out and shined the bright light directly into the camera. “And a weapon! Each bag contains a different weapon, but not everyone will get a knife or a gun. It’s completely random, with some good and some not so good at all. This will give everyone a fighting chance!” As she spoke, she lifted an ax from the table, it looked like one that a fireman would use. But in her smaller hands it seemed much too big. “Seems like I got lucky with this one!”

“Get ready everyone! You will be leaving by class number! When you hear your name, I want to hear a big ‘here’!” She gave a nice big wave before the tape ran out. Heechul turned the tv off and was handed a clipboard by one of the soldiers.

The Game Begins Day One - 1:40AM

As students were called forward, each once far too scared not to shout that they were indeed here. They were each thrown the heavy duffel bag before then ran out the door into the night. Much sooner than you, Sojung was called which forced her to leave you alone. Glancing around the room after she had left, you noticed only a few of your classmates left. As you did this your eyes locked with Yoon Jeonghan and your heart sank. He was staring at you and smiling.

If this had been any other situation, you would have been over the moon that your crush was smiling at you, but here and now all you could feel was dread. You mind instantly thinking the worst, he could probably tell that you would be an easy target.

“[L/N], [Y/N]!” The call forced you to tear your eyes away from Jeonghan, as you called out that you were here. You rushed forward and a soldier threw a duffel bag at you, the weight of it almost knocking you backwards. Somehow you kept your momentum and ran out the door into the darkness.

Once outside, it took you eyes a minute to focus in the darkness. The chill on the autumn air hits your legs as you look around, hoping to find a safe spot to hide so that you can look in your bag. You don’t see any of the other student, not even someone camping out in front of the exit. For that you’re grateful. So with this in mind you simply run as fast as you can for as long as you can.

Your heart pounding in your chest as you dashed through the forest, doing your best not to trip in the darkness. In the distance you hear a scream and sounds of a scuffle. This only furthers you to keep running despite your lungs burning and begging for you to stop.

Suddenly, you were flying. Your feet coming out from under you as your foot hit a tree root that you couldn’t have possibly seen in the dark. You have no control over your body as you tumble forward, unable to stop yourself. It felt like you would go on forever only for you to stop as you body just so happened to collide with a tree, causing all breath to leave your lungs.

Gasping desperately, you lay there for a minute before you can will your body up. Crawling towards a nearby bush and ignoring the pain in your knee, you must have hurt it when you fell. You finally unzipped your duffel bag to figure out what weapon you had received. You hands desperately grasped at the flashlight that had been in the bag, grateful you quickly pressed the button to turn it on as you looked through your bag. You felt a chill make it’s way down your spine as you pulled out your designated weapon.

A pocket knife, still folded and it fit snug into the palm of your hand. After a moment of hesitation, you flipped it open and examined the blade. It had obviously been sharpened before it had been tossed into your bag. You gripped it tightly, not wanting to be unarmed if someone came for you. Despite that resolve, just holding it felt wrong. You couldn’t imagine plunging it into any of your classmates.

Deciding it would be smarter to use the darkness as a cover, you decided to turn your flashlight off. It would also keep the battery life, as they hadn’t provided you with batteries for it. So what you had would need to last for the next three days.

***

You didn’t move from your hiding spot until you heard footsteps coming your way. Carefully, you began backing further into the bush as an attempt to keep yourself covered. Unfortunately, as you did this your classmate heard the rustling as you moved.

“Who’s there!?” The voice called out. You recognized the voice of Choi Seungcheol, a friend of Jeonghan’s. He was strong, one of the strongest in your class. The different tests during P.E. had shown you that.

In that moment everything felt hopeless, if he found you it would be over and you wouldn’t have even survived the first few hours of the game. You could see the light of his flashlight moving around in an attempt to light up whoever was in hiding. In this case, that was you. His footsteps crunched a few leaves as he continued to advance towards you. Your heartbeat was so loud at this point you swore that he could hear it and it had become harder to breathe as panic began to set in. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.

Once you heard a battle cry, everything sped up once more. Jennie, jumped out of the darkness and lunged for Seungcheol. From your viewpoint you saw a rope clutched in her hands, holding Seungcheol from behind with that rope tightly pulled against his neck. He reached for her, no weapon in his hand. This made you wonder if he had gotten one of those ‘not so good’ weapons that Eunha had spoken off. His hand gripped her hair and pulled as harshly as he could, leaning forward and hurling her over his back.

She landed on the forest floor with a harsh thud, the rope escaping her grasp and falling just close enough that you might be able to reach it. As the two continued to struggle, you took the opportunity to inch forward to try and get closer to the rope that had fallen. After all, it was safer for you if you had it and they didn’t.

While you had been distracted trying to reach, Seungcheol had kept the upper. His flashlight had come across the back of Jennie’s head in rapid succession, not giving the girl a chance to get off of the ground. Before you realized she had stopped struggling.

Girl; Kim Jennie - Dead. 21 to go

You were just barely touching the rope when an eerie red light turned towards you.

“[Y/N]?”

You had been caught. Forgetting the rope, you gripped your knife tightly and pointed it at Seungcheol as you scrambled backwards.

“Stay away!” You exclaimed, terror gripping your words as you brandished the knife as bravely as you could.

Seungcheol ignored your words and took a step forward, regret shining in his eyes as he did so. You noticed small streaks of tear stains on his face as well as specks of blood...Jennie’s blood.

“[Y/N], I don’t want to hurt you. Please…” He couldn’t think you would possibly believe that? Not after what you had just seen. Not while you were still in view of the corpse that had once been your classmate. He continued to advance towards you, keeping the high ground as your legs lacked the strength to let you stand.

Apparently, he had had enough of you running and wanted to end things quickly. He jumped onto your form, knocking the knife out of your hand in the process. Instantly you back kicking your legs wildly as you tried to get him off of you. While his hand wrapped around your neck, you continued to thrash around in an attempt to get free. He sobbed as he clenched his hand tightly, cutting off air flow to your lungs. Muttering apologies but refusing to let you go of your throat. You could hear strangled screams leaving your lips but they didn’t feel like they were coming from you, it was like someone else was in your body and you were just an unwilling passenger.

Instead of trying to push his hands away, because he was much stronger than you were and there would be no way you could get him off of you that way, you began grabbing randomly at the forest floor. Hoping to get your knife back or at least grab a rock large enough to hit him with.

Luck was on your side at that moment, as your hand grazed the blade of your knife. Not caring if you cut yourself you grabbed the blade, feeling it slice your skin as you did. As quickly as you could, you turned it in your hand and jabbed it harshly into the man’s skull. In surprise and pain, he let go of your neck letting you gasp out for air. Without really thinking, you pulled the knife out before he could move out of range and once again thrust it into the side of his skull. It took a minute, but soon his body fell forward crushing you underneath him as he bled out.

Boy; Choi Seungcheol - Dead. 20 to go

As you realized what had just happened, you pushed his body off of you. He fell limply to the side, eyes drained of any life. Without even really thinking, a loud wail left your lips as you began sobbing at the realization of what you had just done. Sure it was in self defense, but that was Seungcheol. Just a few days ago you had been tutoring him so that he wouldn’t fail your English class. You weren’t the closest of friends, but now you would never have the chance to talk or laugh with him again. All the hard work he had been putting into his studies, into sports, into his life...it all meant nothing now. All you could do now was sit and sob, praying that no one heard you.

#Seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fic #svt x reader #svt fanfic #svt fic #angst #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan imagine #yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan imagine #jeonghan scenarios #battle royale au

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cupidshootstokill · 4 years

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the fire lord and the bloodbender

hey, first fic ever that i’m posting to tumblr! this for a cute lil activity we did on the zutara gc, it was based on the prompt ‘bloodbending’. tbh this is more of a first draft than the complete fic, but still, hope u guys enjoy!

Rated: T

Pairing: Zuko/Katara

Word count: 2.5k

Katara's earliest memory was cages. Trapped behind cold steel bars, shackled to the ground where the elephant rats gnawed at her bare feet. She kicked them away during the day, but she was powerless at night, waking up to little red bites where they broke through her skin. They were as hungry as she was, after all.

But one night, under a full moon, that changed. She was released from her cage, encased within the arms of a woman, a prisoner like her. Together they fled from the prison. And for Katara, a new life had began as an innkeeper's granddaughter in a quaint Fire Nation village.

Hama told her that she wasn't really her grandmother. Kanna had been her dearest friend before the Fire Nation had snatched them away and locked them up in their cold steel cages, full of elephant rats that gnawed at your skin. She told Katara to never forget her true identity, a waterbender from the South Pole, one of its last.

But Katara didn't know what that meant, she knew nothing of snow or her mother's embrace. She accepted Granny's words without question. Granny, who fed her and clothed her in pretty skirts. Granny, who braided her hair and sent her to the village school. Granny, who taught her to waterbend and to play with puppets. Granny, who taught her so many terrible and wonderful things.

Katara knew what Granny did to the villagers, she knew who was behind the disappearances, the unnatural stirring of limbs, the uncanny movements like puppets on a string. She had seen it first hand, under a full moon. But she kept quiet, Granny had never hurt her. And even if she had felt sorry for the girl in her class whose father had vanished without a trace, she knew better than to speak of it.

Several summers had passed. Katara spent most of her time in school, or playing other children in the village square. Granny forbade her from working at the inn, a child like her should play, work was for women. So she played, chasing the village children, and hiding in and out of shadows. Like this, she could almost forget what Granny did to their fathers and mothers and older sisters and brothers.

One day, she was not longer a child, waking up with blood between her legs. There was a dull ache in her tummy, but she hadn't been cut anywhere. She wondered if she was sick, if this was an illness she could heal. Wordlessly, she cleaned herself up, removing what blood she could with her bending, and gingerly she brought one hand to her stomach, feeling for the chi inside of her.

Even when the ache went away, she continued to bleed. It grew heavier and messier as it soiled her clean white sheets, and she cried in frustration. She had no choice but to tell Granny, there's no way she could go to school in the state she was in.

Granny congratulated her, at last she was a woman. Katara no longer attended school, she stayed at home. She no longer played in the village square, she worked at the inn. She no longer learned how to heal and control the waves, she learned how control people and made them dance like puppets.

Every full moon, she would paint her face, conceal her identity in a wide brimmed head and hide behind a veil. It was no longer Granny snatching away the villages, locking them up as elephant rats gnawed at their bare feet, it was her.

Even still, she could never possess Granny's cruelness, as she twisted their limb back until they broke, as she lashed they skin with water whips until it tore, as she froze their fingers and toes until they fell off.

For Katara saw not the Fire Nation soldiers that stole her from her family, from her people and culture. She saw the grocer and the butcher's son, the merchant and her teacher at the village school. She couldn't free because then where would they be? Granny and her, locked up in another cage, sentenced to death by whatever means the Fire Lord could think of.

But Katara wasn't cruel, she told herself as much as she healed the captives, their bones snapping back to place, their skin sewed back together under her cooling touch. She expected punishment, but Hama only praised her before inflicting another round of torture. And the cycle repeated indefinitely, as the moon waxed and waned.

A boy arrived at the inn. He called himself Lee, and Katara winced at the sight of his burnt eye. If he noticed, he didn't take offence, asking about where one might find work. That's when Granny stepped in.

"Us women could do with strong young man around, if you chop me a pile of firewood, I will let you stay here for free."

Katara urged the boy to leave, to run far away from here, but the words never left her mouth. She watched, silent, as Granny led the boy up the stairs to his room. That night, the moon was a waxing gibbous.

He was an easy target, one that no one would miss, the lone boy with a scar that none of the villagers knew.

She snuck into his room on his second night, the full moon casting a shadow on his high brow, like a blindfold over his eyes. His limbs contorted and his eyes snapped open, luminescent gold. He cursed in a futile struggle as Katara marched the boy into the woods, and into the cave.

All the while, he hissed and screamed at her, struggling against her pull with a ferocity than no victim before had possessed. Granny chained him up and he thrashed like a rabid dog, even bending fire from his mouth.

"What an insolent creature you are. Livelier than the rest of your brethren." She looked around at the villagers, hanging limply from their chains, dejected souls.

"Although, I suppose this makes things a lot of more interesting." Granny turned towards Katara, a knowing look in her beady old eyes. "My dear, won't you come closer?"

She could feel a gaze as cold as steel and as brilliant as gold on her as she stepped forward. "Katara, I know you are a gentle soul, and I've tolerated your healing until now. It's is time you learnt that justice made be delivered upon wrongdoers."

Granny stepped away from the boy, and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her closer. "And who better to practice on but a firebender." With one emaciated wrinkled finger, she tilted up Katara's chin. She no longer any choice but to stare into the boy's eyes, wide with fear, and the scorched skin. This was a boy, not much older than her, who cruelty at already been inflicted upon by his own people. And Hama would have her torture and kill him.

She scarcely knows this boy, but she knows her guardian. Hama, a woman so wounded by war and twisted by her own suffering, that she would at nothing to bring it upon others. Until now, Katara had played a part in it, something that had filled her with shame every night of the full moon. But this cannot go on.

Drawing water, she froze the boy's shackles, slicing through them in a powerful blow to free him from the wall. She could feel a tugging on her veins, but fought back with her own influence. The boy, however, had no control, throwing clumsy volleys of fire at Katara, which she deflected.

"Young lady, you are making a grave mistake," Hama said. "To think that one of my own, the child that I raised by hand, would turn against me. And all for a pathetic firebender!" She now dragged the forward, his limbs limp as she shook his body for emphasis.

"But unlike you, cruel girl, I will show mercy." The boy rose, now levitating under the influence of Hama's bending. "I will teach you how to kill painlessly, I will stop his heart."

Katara's body reacted before she could think, reaching out to bend her master. Immediately she felt resistance, but the thought of the boy dead, his lifeless body going colder and colder, spurred her on. With all her might, she pushed against Hama's bending. Her master arm's fell back, and the flopped onto the ground with a heavy thud.

Hama fought against her grip, her bony, old frame trembling in exertion. "You wretched girl, using my own powers against me! For this you will suffer, you will suffer indeed!"

Beside her, the boy was up on his feet, in a wide stance she had seen firebenders take before. His index and middle finger were pointed as the rest were tucked into a fist, and he began to draw circles, in and out. A brilliant pale blue light followed him, and Katara watched mesmerised until she realised.

It was lightning. The boy had created lightning, and he aimed it directly to Hama's withered heart.

Katara still held her master firm as the lightning coursed through her body, burning her from the inside out. She kept on holding on, feeling the old woman's lifeforce fade away. At last, she let go.

Granny was dead.

The realisation hit her hard, and Katara crumpled onto the ground as if someone had cut off her strings. She cried, choked up and struggling to breathe at the thought of what she had done. Someone put an arm around her, it was cautious yet warmth and she melted in the boy's side. The boy that hadn't left her as soon as he was free, the boy that had stayed to fight beside her, the boy with the scar and the most captivating golden eyes.

They soon realised they couldn't stay in the village. If they were to free the villagers themselves, any one of them could turn them in. So they returned to the inn and packed their bags. Before the crack of dawn, Katara left a map and keys to free the villagers in the square. It wouldn't be at least until sunrise until somebody would find it, and by then they'll be long gone.

Katara and the boy, Lee, spent the follow years travelling between Fire Nation towns, never staying too long in the fear of getting caught. They would pretend to be young lovers that had eloped together, after Katara's father had disapproved of their union and branded Lee with a scar. Many pitied the young couple, and offered them a bed to sleep on and food to eat. It wasn't much, but Katara and Lee vowed to help out wherever they could. They were both hardworkers, and never complained no matter how gruelling the work their host had set out for them.

They would also help at night. The Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady were famed heroes throughout the Fire Nation, ridding towns of vagrants and tyrannical oligarchs and healing the sick. Even still, Katara always had the feeling she was repenting for a great sin. The death of Hama haunted her dreams, and Lee had often woken her up, trying to shake off the fear that plagued her.

It happened when they were staying at a Fire Sages' sanctuary. By now they were in their early twenties, having spent the rest of their teenage years together. Time blurred the line between fact and fiction, and no longer did they have to lie about being lovers. To Katara, Lee remained a mystery, she had no idea what brought him to her village in the first place, no idea why he ran instead of settling down, no idea why he had that terrible scar. But if there was one thing she did know, it was that she trusted him and loved him with her whole heart.

And it would seem that Lee felt the same way.

Their stay at the sanctuary concluded with a small ceremony in the temple nearby. With Agni as their witness, they were now husband and wife.

Despite their marriage, Katara had learned nothing new about her husband's past. Lee continued to be elusive, dodging her questions and giving vague answers when he couldn't. She believed things would forever stay that way, and focused on envisioning a future with him instead, wondering how exactly they could raise a family on run.

They were in Harbour City, Lee was working for a merchant. After some serious talks, they had made plans to move to one of the Fire Nation colonies, hopefully there, they will be able to settle down and start a family. They were hoping that one of the merchant ships would allow them safe passage.

But instead, it was decreed that Fire Nation had lost the war. The Avatar had defeated Fire Lord Ozai and the Crown Princess, now imprisoned in the Capital City. The new Fire Lord had yet to be officially crowned, Ozai's brother, General Iroh was acting as regent until the true heir to the throne, Prince Zuko, was found.

The news ignited a profound change in Lee, her taciturn husband grew anxious in a manner that was deeply unfamiliar to Katara. At his insistence, they changed their course towards Caldera City. Katara supposed that, with the war over, the colonies would be long gone anyway.

This is journey was unlike their travels before, there was no idle zapping back and forth between coastal towns. There was constant movement, only resting for the night. They were driven by the strange spark of vigour that burned within Lee, and within a week's time, they had reached their destination, the Royal Palace.

However, it was not just them that had journeyed to the palace following the general's announcement. Lee was one man in a sea of faces, claiming to be the lost prince. Katara could only hope he was telling the truth.

Every morning, it is said that the great palace gates open, and General Iroh would step out followed by his procession of heavily armed guards. Every morning, it is said that the general's eyes scan the crowd for his beloved nephew. Every morning, it is said that he returns to the palace without the soon to be Fire Lord, his face crestfallen.

On that very morning, Lee stood among the crowd of would be princes, and Katara beside him. People waved for the general's attention, others called him "Uncle" with false familiarity, but Lee just stood there, waiting. When the general's eyes fell on Lee's face, Katara saw a pang of recognition. She gasped audibly, as General Iroh summoned his soldiers to his side. After exchanging a few words with the general, they marched over to where Katara and her husband stood.

The man she had married was none other than Fire Lord Zuko.

and it ends kind of mysteriously, but i’m sure you guys can imagine a happily ever after. like I said before, this is rlly the first draft. for the challenge, i kinda played around with a different fairytale/greek mythology inspired style of writing. and tbh I don’t know how much i like it? I still want to rewrite this one day and posted it properly to my ao3 account (i’ll reblog this post w new version when i do). anyway, thanks for reading and thanks for @randomfriends and @fandoms-are-part-of-me for doing the challenge with me, check them out guys!

#zutara #zuko #katara #avatar #atla #avatar: the last airbender

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years

Text

Hell-Bent (DonnyxReader)

Continuation of The Traitor and the Bear Jew & Home for the Holidays

Requested by @svonschroeder

@inglourious-imagines @war-obsessed @owba-chan

Let me know if you wanna be tagged in these! :)

Donny was straightening out his bow-tie, lost in his own repetitive scenarios and worries. He was scared. It wasn't the prospect of walking into the theater and never coming back out that scared him. It was that something much worse would happen to you. "But what if this Landa guy recognizes you?!" "He won't." You had enough of this war. You once wanted to start a new life, with Donny, far away from the ruins of your home. Then you got Operation Kino. In no scenario was Donny making it out of the war alive...and you decided to go with him. Donny groaned in frustration, "They ran your face in the papers all over the place when they found out you weren't dead. How is he not going to recognize you?!" Hugo peered from the bed of the makeshift infirmiry. He and Wicki had survived...but barely. Hicox wasn’t so lucky... Hugo managed to mutter, “Donny hat recht. Bleib hier.” "Donny's right. Stay here." You shook your head, “Nein, ich gehe.” “No. I’m going.” You looked to Bridget for help. She was pulling on her heels, and looked at the boys. "I need at least one other person there who can actually speak Italian."

Aldo sighed...He was originally going to put either Hirschberg or Smitty in your place, but he knew one thing for sure. Everyone carrying out a part of Operation Kino inside the cinema was never coming back home. Donny was the first to volunteer for it. He wanted to be the one to kill Hitler. That was a given... But Aldo knew something else: You couldn't live without Donny, and Donny wouldn't be at peace knowng you were miserable without him. Besides, Bridget was right. They needed you to make their act more convincing. Then you would be 'Catia Barbarino,' stylist to Bridget von Hammersmark. A final card from the Basterds, and once again, a traitor to the nazis.

You looked into the mirror, and swiped on a copper-red lipstick, and wore a long, emerald green dress, covering the sticks of dynamite around your ankles. Bridget lent you a ring to make it more convincing. Everyone was in the next room, having one last drink. Donny came up behind you. "Are you sure you want to do this, doll?" "Are you?" He sighed and looked down. "I'm not going home until Hitler's dead. I'm gonna do it myself." "Then I'm going with you." His head tilted a little, and his eyes grew soft when he saw that your love for him matched his hatred for the enemy.

"Donny, I can't live without you. Don’t ask me to stay here again." "Don't do this...Don't go. I-" "You’re not the only one with a vendetta. Remember that." He smirked a little as you wrapped your arms around his neck, and kissed him. He nodded in surrender, and sighed as he looked down at you. “You look beautiful, doll.” He pretended he was ok with everything, but...he was still worried you'd be recognized. Still, there was no one else he wanted by his side when he took down the nazi regime. A few hours later, his world seemed to collapse when Landa approached them. Still, somehow it all seemed alright. "MARGHERITIIIII!!!!!"

Landa looked at you, and for the first time in a long time, you couldn't read someone. He asked for your name. "E il tuo nome?" "Catia Barbarino." He nodded. Landa gave the impression that he believed you. In reality, he was just impressed you'd made it this far. He also enjoyed tracking your fake names through the years. All six of you stopped talking for a tense moment, wondering what the next few hours would entail. Not everyone was going to make it out alive, everyone had that clear. Bridget quickly broke the silence, fearing that any more contact with Landa would cost them all dearly. "Lei è la sua fidanzata." She told Landa you were Donny's fiancee. It was not true...But Donny did make a certain face, Omar did smirk, and Aldo did smile a little.

Bridget had noticed Landa looking at the ring around your gloved left ring-finger. It was really Bridget’s ring. And given that you were her ‘stylist’ a bit too grand for someone of your occupation. Bridget heard Hugo tell Wicki in German that Donny wanted to propose to you, until the basterds were assigned to Operation Kino...there would be no point then... It sort of slipped. Bridget panicked, trying to keep Landa from asking too many questions. Landa congratulated you and Donny. Then, realizing Donny and Omar were choking on their Italian, Bridget managed to get Landa to allow you, Donny, and Omar to take your seats in the cinema.

0023 0024 0025... You sat in seat 0025, beside Donny. Your hands were entwined, much like your fates had been for two years. His hands were steady. His heart was set on Operation Kino. His eyes were set on you, one last time... You would have gladly sat there until it all ended, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. You looked at the two emty seats following yours. Aldo and Bridget should have been there by then... Donny followed your gaze. You turned to him, and whispered softly, "Donny?" He sighed, looking back at the seats again, then at your eyes. He nodded with certainty, and you smiled broken-heartedly. Something told you that things would never be the same again. You rested your hands on his cheeks, as your eyes became teary and he smiled at you, one last time. He kissed you. And you were gone... As you passed Omar, you saw he was smiling widely, as he repeated under his breath "sua fidanzata"

You chuckled a little, though your heart felt heavy. You looked through the lobby, it was mostly empty, save for Aldo standing in the middle, with a glass of champagne in his hand. You were halfway up the stairs then, and Aldo turned around, hearing the click of high heels, thinking it might be Bridget. He was confused when he saw you, but then he glanced at the room where Landa had taken Bridget, and nodded at you. You nodded once to your lieutenant, and made your way to the door. Your excuse for retrieving her would be to touch up her makeup for the cameras... You stood at the door, and heard Landa give an order, "The guy in the white smoking jacket." He opened the door unexpectedly, and found you as you looked back to see a group of nazis attack Aldo and take his weapons from him. "ALDO!"

In the middle of his insults, he glanced up at you, with another reasuring nod, then resumed his shouting as the nazis dragged him away. You were reaching for your purse, where you'd hidden a gun. Landa reached for your wrist, "Now, now, Private L/N, don't be rash." You clenched your jaw. So he did recognize you... He was right. A gunshot would alert all the guards... You’d end Operation Kino before it even began. He pulled you into the room. You saw her shoes on the ground...your could hear your heart beat in your ears as you braved a glance across the room. There, you found Bridget von Hammersmark, lifeless. She was lost in the hands of an unforgiving fate. Landa’s hands, to be precise.

Not unlike you. You whispered, "Bridget..." She was not supposed to die... Not like that. Not that night.

Landa was cool and collected as he paced in front of you.."Well, well, well. If it isn't the traitorous Y/n L/n." "Villains really need to get a better spiel, you know." He looked shocked, as if he were truly offended by your words. "I am most certainly not a villain, liebling. I resent that!"

"You are the Jew-Hunter, aren't you?" "I'm a detective. I do my job. And I do it right." He gestured to the corpse, and a wave of rage ran a chill down your spine, and boiled your blood as he looked at you, "We're very much alike, you and I, liebling." "Don't call me that. We are nothing alike." "No? You're German. I'm German. You're a killer. I'm a killer. We both look at the possible outcomes of our decisions: Yours was to be a traitor, and mine was to stay loyal to the third reich. And here we are, looking at the possible outcomes of killing each other...and in your case and of your friends: yourselves." "I kill nazis. You kill people." He chuckled, "Jews are no more than rod-" You took a step forward. Your fists were clenched. You didn't need a gun. You were a basterd. "Watch your words, Landa." He countered like a child on a playground, and sneered, "Watch yours, private!" There was a knock at the door, and as you were face to face, he remarked, "Ah... we find ourselves in a compromising position. I advise you to stay quiet, and still. No tricks."

You clenched your teeth and nodded. You heard him utter 'clever' outside, and come back in with Aldo's knife, his explosives, and jacket. "Scheisse..." Your mind raced with all the possible horrible things that could be happening to Aldo at that moment. You were a traitor. You once had eyes on the inside...you knew the extent of the enemy’s inhumanity. Your rage was hardly contained at that point, "You're a coward, Landa." He smirked a little as he poured himself a glass of champagne, "Why do you say that?" You glared at him, "You killed her. She was a good woman. A fucking civilian. She's not a soldier, she's not a-" "She was a spy and a traitor, much like yourself, Private L/n." He took a menacing step forward, Aldo's knife in hand, as you stared at each other, hell-bent on getting revenge. He laughed a little, like a madman "Is it such a sin?" "She was innocent." Landa slammed his fist on the table, "A liar and traitor just like you!" he turned back around, and you were both aiming guns at each other. He smiled again. "Kill me, they'll look for a gunman. They know about Aldo, they saw you with him. They saw your fiance a...Oh he's not really your fiance is he? Shame...Thought you made a handsom pair and all...Disgraceful as it is, for a German like you and a Jew, well I must admit young Mr. Donowitz is a fine looking young man, good match for you...Shame, really, all this." You had your gun aimed between Landa’s eyes. You didn’t move, you didn’t speak. "They find him and your friend Omar. Your mission is kaput. And their fate is much worse than what you planned." "So you want us to stand like this until it’s all over?" “It's a possibility..." He sighed “not a practical one, mind you.” He lowered his gun...and you did too. "My disappearance and yours will raise suspicions. You know that, colonel." He paced around, thumb at his chin, as if in deep thought, "I have a better idea, private..." he turned, disarmed you, and stabbed you with Aldo's knife before you could even take a breath.

You were stunned for a moment. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. You were supposed to die alongside Omar and Donny, destroying the third reich, and avenging millions. There you stood, so close to them, yet so far from your destiny. The searing pain, the uncertainty of the mission... The tides had turned for the blade used against so many nazis before... You couldn't say a word... Blood pooled through your dress. You grew cold and numb. Your knees buckled, and Landa crouched by you as you kneeled weakly. He leaned in and murmured, "Do me a favor, liebling. Don't die now. You may just be useful to me just yet..." He pulled the knife out slowly, and left you there. He took your gun and Aldo's things, and left the room. You were sprawled out on the ground, the opposite side of the room as Bridget. Your eyes burned with agony and rage as you looked up. "So endet es also ..." 'So this is how it ends...' **** The theater was full, the movie had started, and neither the lieutenant, the spy, or the traitor came back. Donny and Omar were in the bathroom, about to carry on with their mission. Donny was pushing for some hope, "You sure you didn't see her in the theater? Maybe she forgot where we were sitting." Omar shook his head slowly, "She didn't forget...She didn't come back."

Donny nodded. That could only mean one of two things: You were either dead or once again, a traitor. He knew you wouldn't betray the basterds.

And his heart shattered knowing what that meant, He nodded slowly, numb, but with a mission. "Mission goes on, Omar..." Orders from high command were that they were to carry out Operation Kino at all costs. Omar shook his head. "No. No, Aldo and the woman didn't come back either. Something's going on." Donny turned his back on Omar, and leaned onto the sink, looking down. "Operation Kino goes on. It's what they would have wanted." Omar caught a glimpse of Donny's eyes in the mirror. They were filled with rage and sorrow. The rage wanted vengeance for everything and everyone the nazis had taken from the world. The sorrow was the realization it didn’t matter if you weren’t there with him... The sorrow was the realization that as of now, you were one of the millions lost at the nazis’ hands. Donny was now more than willing to die in that cinema for his lieutenant, for Hicox, for the spy, and most of all, for you... Omar rested his hand on Donny's shoulder, "We said we'd die together, or we don't die at all. Something happened to them, but we don't know that they're dead. I'm not dying unless I know what really happened to them."

Donny stayed silent, still looking down at the sink. "Donny....I know you want to see her one last time." If Donny had you by his side when it all happened, there would be no hesitation... And even if the only logical explanation was that you were captured and killed, somehow he felt you were still close. "I owe it to her, kid. Hugo and Wicki almost died last night. England lost a good soldier there." His voice was low, but vengeful. You were the closest thing Hugo had to family, and Donny knew that. "We need to get this right. For Y/n.... For everyone. We have to do this, Omar, means we have to die too... We have our orders." Omar’s voice was soft, "Donny?" Donny sighed, "Yeah, kid?" "You love her. I know you don't wanna do this without her." "This is our mission. It always has been." Donny shook his head, trying to block out Omar’s logic. "But-" "Ulmer." Donny took on the tone of a sergeant. It was a warning to Omar.

Omar wasn't scared anymore. Not when they were so close to ending it all. "With all due respect, sarge-" "We have orders, Ulmer. If someone falls behind tonight they...they stay behind." Those orders came directly from the brass, Omar knew that. Orders are orders... "Then fuck the rules." "Ulmer-" "You can't follow orders if you needa follow your heart...Just this once... Donny, you love her. You got a heart, sarge. That's what sets you apart from those nazis in there." Donny was silent again. "Look. We kill Hitler, and the high command in there, throw the dynamite, then find the others. There's a chance, Donny..." Donny nodded slowly and sighed. He looked through the doorway then back at Omar. He took off his jacket. "When I kill that guy, you got thirty seconds to kill that guard. Can you do it?" Omar smirked a little, but they were back in busines... And business was a'boomin'. "I have to."

****** Aldo and Smitty were thrown in the back of a truck. "Utivich?" "Is that you lieutenant?" Smitty was audibly afraid. He was supposed to keep watch on the roof of the tavern across the street from the cinema. He saw the nazis drag Aldo out of the cinema. By the time he turned around, he was cornered and outnumbered himself. "Yeah." "Do you know what happened to Donny? Omar? The woman? Y/n?" Aldo had his theories, but Utivich's voice already sounded unsteady. He just said, "No I do not." The truck came to a sudden stop. They heard nazis struggling against someone, and then the sound of a body being flung into the truck. "Boys? Y/n?" Utivich was trying not to cry. He was so certain that they would end the war that night... He was holding out for some hope. As long as the nazis didn't have you or the boys, the basterds still had a slight chance. "Miss von Hammersmark?" There was a half-second delay. "It's me..." Your voice shattered them. They'd never heard you sound like that. So broken, so lost...so weak.... Aldo had almost lost you once. And that was the closest he ever your heard sound like that. "Y/n? Y/n, they hurt you?!" He started to stand up, but a guard pulled his down. Aldo struggled against him, but got nowhere. "Come on, kid. Speak to me." You coughed a little. You wiped away the blood that dribbled from the corner of your mouth. "He got von Hammersmarck." You were thankful Aldo and Uti couldn’t see you then. "He what?" You took a breath. "He killed her." The world around you spun, and seemed to burn with the embers of what could have been... Maybe Donny was right. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone... Maybe then, Landa wouldn’t have caught on. Everything would have gone according to plan... Smitty asked, "You....Y/n, what about you? Wh-why do you sound like that?" "Don't...Don’t worry about me, Smitty." They noticed you were forcing your voice to sound more put together, and a bit louder. Aldo wanted to know how bad it was, without having to force it out of you. "They put a hood on you and cuff you too?" "No, sir." That answered his question. They didn't even bother to handcuff you because they knew you weren't going to make it very far anyway. After losing your wits, your blood, and Donny, you didn’t realize Aldo was able to deduce that from your answer. "Don't worry about me, Aldo..." "Don't tell me not to wory about my goddamn boys. I'm gon' worry bout em kids till we're gone.” Aldo took a breath... the way it looked, they’d all be gone sooner than he thought. “What the fuck they do to you, soldier? How do you feel?" "He got me Aldo, he got me good. Use-used y-your knife..." You started to shiver, and struggled to keep your eyes open. Smitty leaned his head against the side of the truck, clenching his jaw, and the knot in his throat. There was nothing he or Aldo could do...not even hold your hand. Aldo's mind raced with the image of his knife, digging into countless scalps. That knife, paired with a merciless nazi meant no hope for you. "I'm sorry, Y/n... I shoulda known Operation Kino was too risky..." Your eyes rested on the roof of the truck. One arm across the wound, drenched in your own blood. The other arm at your side, cold and numb. You shook your head, eyes never abandoning the ceiling. "We're soldiers, sir. We follow orders." You were all silent for some time. Roughly five minutes. But with the hoods, and your impending last breath, Aldo got worried. It was too quiet. "Y/n? How're you holdin' up, kid?" "Cold..." Was all you could manage to mumble... Aldo and Smitty could barely hear you at that point. Smitty's voice was broken as he uttered, "Fuck..." Hopeless, forgotten tears streamed down his hooded face. Aldo struggled against his handcuffs in vain, trying to get to you, and offer you any comfort he could. Operation Kino was a failure, and most, if not all, the basterds would be killed before sunrise. The war would go on. It all would have been for nothing... The truck slowed down and stopped, and the nazis started pulling Aldo and Smitty down. Both of them struggled against the enemy for years... It seemed so cruel for it to end like this. You were most likely going to die cold, alone, and in a pool of your own blood in that truck. Something Aldo and Smitty couldn't abide by... They managed to drag Aldo away, though he looked back one last time, "Y/n?! Listen to me, listen to me, kid! Everything’s gon ' be ok! Ya hear?!” He looked down at the blod, then turned away as his voice lowered in heartbreak, “Y-ya hear..." Even he didn't believe himself... Smitty managed to kneel by your side for a moment, "Y/n? I'm sorry...I'm sorry we have to go..." You nodded, even if he couldn't see. You felt his warm knee at your forearm. Your cold, shaking hands reached out to his shoulder... The blood on your hands soaked his shirt, though you couldn't feel it anymore. "Y/n..." "It's ok, Smitty...We tried." "I c...I can't leave you alone..." You shook your head. "There are worse ways to die, love..." You thought of Omar and Donny. They were probably going to be tortured and then shot against a wall. If they weren't already being tortured... You watched as the nazis dragged Aldo and Smitty away... You tried to get up, you wanted more than anything to fight them and get freedom for your boys, and a fighting chance for Donny and Omar... But you could barely keep your eyes open at that point. A tear streamed down your cheek, thinking perhaps it was all your fault... ******* Aldo eyed the glass of wine in front of him...which he couldn't reach. In no scenario would Donny and Omar survive: They'd either carry out the mission, and die as planned. Or die in the hands of nazis... Aldo looked at a clock, and sighed. You barely had any time left, if you weren't already dead. It wouldn't be long before the nazis zeroed in on Hirschberg. It wouldn't be to hard for them to find Wicki and Hugo, and finish the job. He and Smitty would most likely be killed by Hans Landa himself. Still, Aldo, much like you, couldn't quite read Landa. "But I digress...where were we? Ja. Make a deal." He gestured behind Aldo and Smitty, "Over there is a very capable two-way radio. And sitting behind it is a more than capable radio operator named...Herman..." He looked as if he had uncovered the secrets of the universe, "Get me someone on the other end of that radio to authorize my...let's call terms of my conditional surrender." Aldo was silent. "Get me someone on the other end of that radio I spare Hugo, Wilhelm, Gerold, Smithson, and yourself, and I'll call for someone to save your friend. That traitor....I suppose my ally now, if all goes well.” Utivich turned to look at Aldo. The last thing any soldier would want is to die alone... Both of them knew that. Utivich looked to Aldo, eyes pleading.

*******

Donny and Omar were covered in drops of blood, but their hands and consciences were clean. Hitler, Bormann, Goerring, and Goebbels were dead.

The war was over. They threw the dynamite down when they still had time, and ran through the cinema, searching for a sign from you, Aldo, or Bridget. They searched every supply closet, every opera box. "Donny!" Doonny turned around, smiling, holding out for a some hope. Instead, he saw the grave expression on Omar's face. He peered into the room. There, they saw Bridget von Hammersmarck, dead in a corner. On the other side, they saw the glint of your gun on the ground, and the ring Bridget convinced Landa was your engagement ring. It was stained in red. A dark pool of blood streamed through the floor boards, extending in every direction of the room. Donny knelt by the blood, picked up your gun, and glanced up at Bridget. It wasn’t hers, she didn’t have any wounds or blood on her. It had to be yours... His eyes widened at that realization. He shakily rose to his feet, and dropped your gun. ”Donny...Look...” Omar pointed at the red smears, like masses of rose petals strewn violently by the wind. Donny nodded... You’d been dragged out. "They have to be here somewhere." Donny ran out of the room, and started frantically racing around the cinema, his mind blank, his heart racing, sweating from the heat and the fear. "Y/N?! ALDO! Y/N?! WHERE ARE YOU?!?!" But Donny and Omar were out of time. Omar grabbed onto Donny, "DONNY, LET'S GO, THEY'RE NOT HERE." "I HAVE TO FIND THEM." "THEY'RE NOT HERE. THEY DRAGGED HER OUT, THEY WOULDN’T STAY HERE. COME ON!" Donny looked intently at the young private. Omar was right... Omar managed to pull Donny outside. Donny was fuming as they stood outside the cinema. He was deciding whether or not to go back into the cinema. “Someone hurt her, Omar. Someone fucking killed Bridget, and hurt her, and probably Aldo too. What if they’re still in there?!”

Omar shook his head. he was a bit more clear headed than his sergeant at the moment, "They're not here. They must've been taken away. They had to, if they were going to interrogate them." "Why didn't they get us too?!" Omar shook his head, lost for words, and without an answer...."I don't know..." At that moment, Donny entertained the idea that maybe you were killed...maybe they took you out of that room, and didn’t have time to get Bridget out.

He looked at the cinema. His eyes were bound to the cinema as they once were to you. His voice was steady, and low. “I should’ve stayed in there...” Omar shook his head, “There’s still a chance-” “What? That they’re torturing her and they’ll kill her before we even figure out where she is? I know...” Omar knew Donny was right this time. Still he said, “I was gonna say alive...” Donny shook his head, “No...not after this.” His eyes were set on the theater. If he lost you, he’d never feel alive again... They watched the cinema implode, fire burst through the shattering glass and splintering pillars devoured by hellfire. The cinema was destroyed, dragged down to depths of hell, and the nazis’ power went along with it.

Donny fell to his knees... "Where is she...Omar? Where is she?" Donny’s voice trembling with the tears and rage that came with the irony: He won the war but he lost you. Omar put his hand on Donny’s shoulder...glanced up at the rooftop across the street, searching for an answer... He realized that was where Smitty should have been posted for something like this. He was gone... "Donny...Smitty's gone." Donny turned around, and saw the empty roof. He and Omar looked at each other... If Smitty was gone, then there really was a chance he was with you and Aldo, outside of the theater. Omar held out his hand, and pulled Donny up. They marveled at their work. The vengeful inferno that ended the war by their hands, and avenged millions. "For Y/n..." Donny picked a flower and tossed it into the fire, uncertain what to believe anymore. ********** Aldo and Smitty were put in the back of the same truck they came in. Aldo and Smitty eyed the blood stains on the ground, sloppily and carelessly wiped away, leaving red footprints on the ground. It looked like the inside of a slaughterhouse... It was no wonder the nazis didn't bother to cover your eyes and tie you like them... "I'm not leavin' without my man, Landa. You know the deal."

Landa sighed, "It appears you are correct, Lieutenant Raine." He looked back at the guards and barked out an order in German. Someone, presumably a medic, appeared in a few moment, and helped you up. You were handcuffed. And you were set between Aldo and Smitty. There words seemed distant, you could hardly hold your own, and they knew it. "What about the cinema..." Smitty shook his head, misunderstanding the brokenness in your eyes. You didn't know about the deal. "No...they did it. Hitler, Goerring, everyone of them is gone. It's over, we won!" Aldo knew the real reason you were like that. "They're gone, kid...I'm sorry." "I should've been there with them." Aldo understood. He nodded slowly, "I'm sorry kid. For everything." You bit the inside of your lip, not wanting to let the nazis see you cry. The war may have been over, but that didn't change who they were to you, "Thats...that's war." War... War was what brought you together. It was what brought the world to its knees. It was what drove you away from your home. War made you a traitor. It made you a basterd. War gave you Donny. It was what taught you what love was. It brought you the basterds, and taught you what family was. War gave Hugo back to you, and showed you what redemption was. And war was what took it all away again. You were ready to die with Donny and Omar in that cinema. But you would never be ready to live without them... Now all that was left of them was probably their dog tags... A part of you condemned Aldo and Smitty for making your salvation a part of their deal with the devil called Hans Landa. As soon as you crossed back in allied lines in the forest, you were all freed from handcuffs. Aldo and Smitty pulled your arms around their shoulders and kept you standing tall. Aldo eyed the bloody truck once more, then looked to you, “How you doin', kid?" You glanced at Landa, then to Aldo. Your voice was hoarse, and hopeless. "He's gonna get away with it, Aldo..." Aldo sighed, and nodded, " ‘Fraid so..." Aldo said something about you needing to be in the infirmiry with Hugo and Wicki, you weren't listening. The truth was, even thought the war was over, he wasn't done worrying about you. You and Donny were hell-bent on taking down the third reich and dying together. The war may have ended, but without Donny, yours was just beginning. Now that the basterds were going home, Aldo was afraid for you. Hugo said something about moving to America once... He hoped you'd tag along, then there wouldn't be much to worry about. Hugo would never let a thing happen to you. Smitty held on to you as Landa and Aldo carried out the deal. Landa held out his tiny blade, "I'm officially surrendering myself over to you, Lieutenant Raine. We're your prisoners." Aldo forced a smile, "How 'bout my knife?" Landa chuckled as he pulled out the machete and handed it over. "Thank you very much, colonel." Aldo eyed the blade that was used against you. The blood still drying... Aldo took your arm, then said, "Utivich, cuff the colonel's arms behind his back." "Oh is that really necessary?" Aldo's ears burned with your words, 'He's gonna get away with it, Aldo...' He glanced at his knife, safely around his waist, then back at you. You were neither dead, or alive. You were victorious, but heart broken. He couldn't abide by that. Not one damn bit. Aldo smirked a little, and admitted something every basterd knew him to be guilty of: "I'm a slave to appearances." He shot Herman. He gave Landa's knife to Utivich. "Scalp Herman." Landa used Aldo's knife against you, he was using Landa's knife against his man. Utivich smirked as he took the knife, and gently set you down against a tree. "ARE YOU MAD? I MADE A DEAL WITH YOU FOR THAT MAN'S LIFE!" As he and Aldo went back and forth about the deal, you saw something in the distance. For a moment, you thought you were dead. You thought it was the spirits of those you left behind. Donny and Omar. Donny and Omar. Donny and Omar. Their names repeated in your mind. Their voices seemed to get closer and closer... Closer, and closer, and closer... Your eyes widened..."Donny and Omar?!" Smitty thought you'd snapped. He glanced up, expecting to see nothing. Instead, he saw everything his heart could ever desire. His two brothers running out of the woods, towards them, just as Aldo declared this final marking his masterpiece. His eyes followed Utivich's and he saw it too. Donny ran past them, directly to you. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around you, and kissed you. He was covered in soot, and smelled like ash and victory, covered in the blood of his enemy. You were covered in your own blood. He held you gently, his hand resting at the side of your face. "Are you ok? Tell me you're ok, Y/n. Tell me you're fine." His voice was desparate. A man faced with glory and fire. Love and death. You and oblivion, only hours before. You touched his hand and nodded, "I'm ok..." He took a breath, seemingly for the first time in a long time and he smiled. "Hugo woulda killed me if you weren't..." You giggled as much as your wound would allow, and he kissed you again... You whispered, “I’m sorry...I’m sorry, Donny, I-” He shook his head, “Sh, it’s ok, doll! Everything’s ok! Just...save your breath, I need you to get better, ok doll? I need you around.” He smiled as he looked at you, and you smiled back. You just couldn’t believe it. Seething through his pain, Landa taunted "Oh, private L/n and sergeant Donowitz, so it's true! How sweet...a traitor and the Bear Jew." Donny saw you clenching your side. He glanced at the smirk in Landa's eyes. He knew who hurt you. Landa went on, "Nantucket Island isn't too far from Boston, is it sergeant?" Donny shook his head. His voice was low. For a moment, you realized that if Landa went free, he'd only be a few miles form you and Donny... Donny knew that too. "No. No it isn't, colonel." He raised his gun, aimed it at Landa and smirked, "But hell is."

One last bullet.

Then, the war really was over, for all of you. The general was definitely going to chew everyone out for it, but that was ok. It was more than ok. Donny laughed a little as he remarked, "Told you he'd recognize you, doll." Covered in ash, a steady heart, and loving eyes, Donny looked back at you. After that night, after everything you'd ever been through together, you were everything to him. The war may be over, the basterds may be splitting up, but he couldn't imagine his life without you, and you knew that. He slipped his hand around yours, just like he did in the theater. He was willing to die with you hours before. Now he was willing to live for you, and spend the rest of his life with you. Your eyes wandered east. The Germany you once knew was gone. There was nothing to go back to. You and Hugo knew that. He made you swear once, that you were truly happy with Donny, and that you loved him. When you admitted it, Hugo smiled and said he'd move to America, only if you promised to visit him. You agreed. And so your eyes wandered west, beyond France, beyond the Atlatntic, was America. And on the coast was a place named Boston. A place you never knew. A place you'd never seen, not even in pictures. Only stories. What's more, they were Donny's stories. That was where your home was. Donny looked west, beyond the horizon, toward his home. He looked back at his life, at you. It all would have been nothing without you. He thought about the night before for a moment... "Lei è la sua fidanzata."

He didn't have a ring on him, but he had his heart. And his dog tag...

"Y/n... will you-" It was then that another truck passed by....recklessly... honking like there was no tomorrow. Hirschberg was driving, of course. Wicki and Hugo trying to get him to drive without getting them killed. Aldo turned around, "KILL THE ENGINE." "What?!" "KILL THE ENGINE." Hugo swiped the keys from Hirschberg, the engine shut off, and the three arrivals peered out the windows. Aldo shushed them, "KEEP YOUR FUCKEN MOUTHS SHUT!" He stood with Omar and Smitty as Hirschebrg, Wicki and Hugo wandered to them, watching. You and Donny laughed a little as he collected himself. He cleared his throat, and tried again, "Y/n..." He held out his dog tag. "Will you marry me?" You smiled, "Yes!." He kissed you, and held on to you, the only reason he was still alive. He put his dog tag around your neck, as the basterds cheered and joked with both of you. One last time. For the first time in a long time, everything was fine. You, Hugo, and Wicki may have been knocking on death's door hours earlier, but there was no answer. And that was fine. For the first time in years, you and Hugo had a place to call home, and a family. For the first tim in years, there was peace. And for the first time in his life, Donny was satisfied. He paid off his debt to Aldo the Apache. He avenged every name on his bat. He killed Hitler. He ended the war. He looked at you...his “fidanzata” and smiled. Now that there was a world worth living in, Donny had the girl he loved to share it all with.

#Inglourious Basterds #Donny Donowitz #donny donowitz x reader #the bear jew #aldo the apache #aldo raine #smithson utivich #hugo stiglitz #Wilhelm Wicki #gerold hirschberg #Omar Ulmer #Quentin Tarantino #bridget von hammersmarck

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metallic-roses · 4 years

Text

When Pigs Fly

(It’s possible I messed up times a little bit, but not by more than half a year)

Warning: Dead bodies

I swing the gate shut behind me, trying to wipe some of the mud off of me. Working on an animal farm has never screamed cleanliness, especially in the days after a heavy rain, but something about recently has fueled my desire to remain mud free. Probably the absurdly pretty merchant boy, Phaja, who’s been visiting in town recently.

A piglet from one of the more recent litters, Preston, comes skittering up to the gate, sticking his nose through the gaps. I look down at the enthusiastic young thing and shake my head, a small laugh escaping me.

I lean over the gate and pick him up. A lock of my matte white hair slips out of my ponytail and brushes against Preston’s stomach. The piglet squeals, seemingly amused, and wriggles around in my arms. I laugh again, scratching the top of his head and then firm footsteps coming up the hill pause the moment.

My eyes find up the tall, blue skinned, purple haired, muscled man. I’ve never met him before, but I’ve heard descriptions of him several times, passed his castle.

I’m hyperaware of the mud all over me as I hastily set Preston behind the gate and turn to half curtsy “Uh, hello Duke Jawbreaker.”

“You don’t need to curtsey,” The Duke says, his stance casual. Comfortable. I guess you never have to be intimidating when you’re as legendary as he is “What’s your name?”

I clear my throat, still trying to subtly wipe the mud off “My name is Zana Azucer.”

Duke Jawbreaker’s brow furrows “Do I know you from somewhere?”

I stick my hand in the back pocket of my pants “Maybe. My mom went into labor with me about half a day before the final battle had at your castle. She went to said castle for medical help and protection during the birth, and I was born right at the very end of it. You might’ve seen me around that time.”

Duke Jawbreaker taps his head “There you go. Things around battles I tend to remember.” His eyes fix on me and nervousness washes over me again “You’ll be coming up on your nineteenth Saints Day then.”

“Pretty soon,” I confirm.

“Congratulations.” Duke Jawbreaker says “Speaking of peaceful people and Saints Days, I’m here to get a pig for my son. I’m pretty sure he’d like that. He doesn’t like big or violent things.”

I nod slowly. We rarely sell our animals, rarer still just at the farm, but he’s Duke Jawbreaker. And I’m the youngest daughter of two Fructeran immigrants who own a farm.

“Um, sure. Great. Preston, come here,” I call back the piglet and lift him back into my arms. Duke Jawbreaker says nothing “This guy’s name is Preston. He’s the sweetest, friendliest thing you’ve ever met. And I think he’ll do well for outside the farm,” I tap Preston’s nose and he oinks “I think he wants to fly. And we can’t really do that for him here. Maybe your son can.”

(A year and a half later)

I wake up slowly in the morning.

The sheets are in a tangled mess on the bed and I glance over at my fiancee, who’s turned over in his sleep. His deep, dark brown hair has flopped over his slightly lighter brown skin.

I reach over to Phaja and shake his awake. Phaja shifts onto his back, his eyes slowly open “Morning Zan,” He greets and I smile briefly before turning and stepping off the bed.

Phaja doesn’t move from his position “How are you so energetic so immediately? You’re already jumping about.”

I walk over to the dresser, taking a moment to reply. I rifle through the clothes I packed, trying to find what I want to wear.

When Phaja proposed to me, my parents offered to pay for a trip, like they had done for all of my older sisters when they had gotten married. Phaja and I chose to go to Comida, like my eldest sister, Carada, had chosen to.

Granted, we didn’t expect the assassination attempt during the tournament yesterday, but Phaja and I still intend to head through with our plan this morning. Carada recommended a rooftop cafe for breakfast, a place that looks over Comida.

I glance back at Phaja as I pull out an outfit “Not all of us can be spoiled merchant boys you know,” I tease, grabbing clothing for him and tossing it onto the bed. After a moment, I grab one of his jackets and toss it alongside the other clothes.

“You’re awful to me,” Phaja replies, sitting up “I’m excited to see the view though,”

I nod my agreement, and we let the conversation fade into comfortable silence as we change and gather our things, then head down the stairs of the inn.

As we walk, we see banners of black, homes and shops closed as people mourn. The Emperor has died. And it’s most likely that our King, Amethar, will be chosen as his replacement, based on what Phaja’s father’s connections say.

Phaja and I decide to continue anyhow. It’s been expected for weeks now, and we were both prepared for this.

We’re interrupted by a battalion of Bulbian soldiers in full armor rushing down the street, shouting orders in Vegetanian. Phaja grasps my hand and pulls me partially into an alleyway to avoid being trampled.

We watch them pass by, silent and motionless and every passing second I grip Phaja’s hand tighter. When they’ve finally gone, I turn to Phaja, letting go of his hand “What do you think that was?” I ask him “There’s no reason they would be in full battle gear, especially since the Emperor’s just died.”

“I don’t know,” Phaja replies as we step out of the alleyway. He glances around us, looking for some explanation “I think they came from the church.”

I take a few steps down the street. “Then lets go.” I tell him and after a few seconds, Phaja follows me down the street.

The first thing i see is the dead bodies of the Tart Guard.

I cover my mouth, stumbling into Phaja. He catches me by my shoulders and I feel him shudder as he takes in the bodies. The blood. His grip tightens on me as the door swings shut behind us, sending a loud clang through the room.

My breathing shallows. This was a slaughter. A slaughter of my king’s guard. A slaughter of some other Candian, their chocolate blood splattered on the floor.

My bag clatters to the floor. I head for the body at the opposite end of the church, trying to ignore the blood that sticks to my shoes. The lifeless, broken bodies.

I don’t hear Phaja’s steps behind me, but he calls “I don’t- I don’t think they’ll be gone for long, Zana. We have to get out of here fast.”

I don’t look back at him as I continue through the room. My footprints are made of blood, tracing my steps on the ground. “Okay.” I reply, but my voice is so quiet I’m not sure he heard.

I reach the curled, bloody, body on the ground and recognize two rabbit’s ears. It’s a chocolate rabbit. I don’t know who they are- he, if the beard is any telling. I reach over and turn the body.

A tear rolls down my cheek.

Because huddled beneath the dead chocolate bunny is Preston. That friendly, happy pig I sold to Duke Jawbreaker not even two years ago. His body is-

I don’t even want to think about what weapon did that to him. I don’t want to know if he was scared or upset or anything else. I don’t want to think about how he wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t sold him to Duke Jawbreaker.

Sorrow weighs me down, drags me into an ocean of confusion and anger over this atrocity. This injustice.

“Zana,” Phaja’s voice, while still echoing through the church, is gentle this time “Zan, they’ll be back. We have to go.”

I look, through my tears, over at her. The boy I fell in love with. The boy who loves me. I wonder if Preston had someone who loved him near when he died.

“We can’t leave them like this,” I say, my voice surprisingly clear.

Phaja’s eyes meet mine and it feels like he’s staring straight into my soul. After a second he nods briskly, “Alright. What should we do?”

We’re only there for a few minutes. Phaja and I spend the time closing the Candian’s eyes, puling the swords and arrows from their bodies, dragging them off of each other and laying them on their backs.

It wasn’t much. It didn’t feel like much. But it was all we could do.

I once told Joren Jawbreaker that I thought Preston would like to fly, and I gave that man Preston in particular because i hoped that whichever son Duke Jawbreaker gave him to, Preston’s new owner could get the pig closer to that dream.

I don’t know if Preston ever got what he wanted. But I can hope.

I can hope in the way that anyone can hope. I can dream the way Preston did.

My every hope and dream is dedicated to a better future. One where no one has to die like those people in the church did today. One where it’s not so ridiculous for pigs to fly.

#Peppermint Preston #Preston #ACOC #A Crown of Candy #Dimension 20 #D20

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maggiemaybe160 · 5 years

Text

Reprogrammed

Also read on Ao3

“Just tell me how you got out of Purgatory. Be honest with me for the first time since you’ve been back and this is yours.”

The blade dropped into Cas’ hand with a flash of silver. Fear flashed in Dean’s green eyes as Cas made his choice. His hand tightened on the handle of his blade, a practiced motion of a soldier.

“Cas.” Dean looked up from the blade to his angel’s face. “Cas, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but if you’re in there and you can hear me: you don’t have to do this!”

“Cas!” Dean screamed as he lifted the tablet in front of him, the angel blade striking it where his head used to be.

“This isn’t right. I won’t hurt Dean.” Castiel said, staring at Naomi in her too-bright office.

“Yes, you will” She demanded. “You are.” And he was.

“Cas, fight this! This is not you!” Dean shouted. He was fighting for his life as his angel came at him again and again, ready to kill him. “Fight it!”

“What have you done to me?!” Cas backed off for a moment, grabbing his head as if in pain. “What have you done to me, Naomi?”

“Who is Naomi?!” Dean yelled, his fear mixing with worry. His love was poured into his words, but Cas couldn’t hear them.

“What have I done to you?!” Naomi yelled back, over Dean, over everything. “I fixed you, Castiel. I fixed you.”

The tablet smashed on the ground as Cas twisted and broke Dean’s arm easily. His Winchester fell to his knees in pain, still in Cas’ grip. He let go of Dean as he swung and slammed his fist into Dean’s face again and again. Dean grunted and reeled.

“You want it? Take it. But you’re going to have to kill me first.” The dare was a bluff. Cas had heard it a million times before, killing all of the other Deans. They all prompted and provoked him when they got to this stage. They all gave him the option. “Come on you coward! Do it! Do it!” Cas swung again, shutting him up and making their eye contact break.

“Cas, this isn’t you. This isn’t you.” Dean sounded weaker. He was begging. He was losing. He was scared.

“BRING. ME. THE TABLET” Naomi ordered.

“Cas,” Dean gasped. “Cas, I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me.” His hand was up, halfway between a protective stance and a longing gesture. His bloody face was upturned and his one open green eye was locked on Cas, still begging for his angel to hear him. “Cas, it’s me. We’re family. We need you. I need you.”

“Cas.”

Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.

Cas’ hand tightened on the blade. With his free hand, he reached toward Dean. Dean cowered, putting up his hand in front of him while pleading. He grabbed the sleeve of the trench coat. He was gulping in his breaths.

Cas plunged the blade into Dean’s heart, all the way to the hilt. Blood bubbled up and spilled from Dean’s soft lips. His eyes stayed on Cas, the light flickering behind them as if he was trying to stay. His mouth moved, silently saying his angel’s name. He blinked slowly, painfully.

Cas slid the blade back out and watched Dean fall to the floor. His head hit the ground with a thud. His eyes didn’t open again. His chest was still with blood leaking from the wound, staining his clothes and dripping onto the floor.

Cas backed up, his angel blade still dripping with the blood of the only being he’d ever loved. The lights were supposed to come on now. Naomi was supposed to walk through the door, clapping and congratulating. He was supposed to be told how well he had done in the room full of Deans.

Cas looked at the broken tablet and back to Dean. His mind reeled. The fight replayed in his mind. This time he heard Dean’s pleading. He heard Dean’s fear, worry, and unguarded love as he begged Cas to come back and hear him. His heart felt like it was going to rupture. His breathing was too fast. This wasn’t supposed to be real.

He was on his knees next to Dean, trying to stop the bleeding. His hands helplessly scooped at the blood, trying and failing to put it back into Dean’s chest. He stopped, his blood soaked and shaking hands pressed to Dean’s open chest.

“This wasn’t supposed to be real!” Cas shouted.

“Dean!” Sam called as he ran in. “Dean, we need to go-” He stopped short. Cas turned to face the younger Winchester slowly. Sam’s eyes darted from Cas, grief stricken and hollow, to his brother, bloody, beaten… dead.

“Cas, what have you done?” Sam breathed. Cas stood slowly, leaving his angel blade by Dean’s side. Sam swallowed hard, fear visible on his face. “Cas?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be real,” Cas whispered. He sounded as if he were pleading. He struck Sam so his head hit the wall behind him. His palm pressed to Sam’s forehead, he watched Sam’s eyes light up as he was smited by an angel he trusted with his brother’s life.

Sam’s lifeless body sagged to the floor as Cas turned around to face Dean. He looked like all the rest of them, but his heart was broken this time. He knelt next to the tablet and picked it up. Bright light blinded him for a moment as it repaired itself using his grace.

Maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe this was just one more test and he could go back to the real Dean and it would all be over.

He handed the tablet to Naomi with steady hands. He held onto it as she tried to take it.

“Can I go back to the Winchesters now?” Cas asked, pleading to be released.

“What?” She looked genuinely confused. “You carried out your mission, Castiel. Dean Winchester is dead. So is his brother. Mission complete. Hand me the tablet.”

His hand tightened as his chest seized. Dean. The tablet crumbled in his grip. Naomi yelled out, but all Castiel could hear was his hunter saying his name over and over.

Cas, this isn’t you. Cas.

His blade dropped into his hand again as he stabbed Naomi, his eyes stuck on her face as her eyes lit up, her grace lighting a fire inside of her that would kill her in a moment. She dropped onto her desk and her precious tablet pieces.

It was real.

#destiel fic #angst fic #MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH #goodbye stranger #dean winchester #castiel #cas #dean x castiel #fuck you naomi #supernatural fic #spn fic #maggiemaybe160

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moocowmoocow · 5 years

Note

Bobbie & Chrisjen - X. A flash of anger OR Bobbie & Chrisjen - L. A stolen kiss

I did both, so read behind the cut

Bobbie & Chrisjen - X. A flash of anger

She fucking hated being Secretary General. She was much more effective when she could get things done behind the scenes, not have to worry about flattering egos and placating bullshit and photo ops. She fucking hated Mars. She constantly kept tripping over her own feet because her body couldn’t get used to the lighter gravity. Try being graceful and authoritative and menacing when you couldn’t walk in a fucking straight line. She entered the suite of rooms assigned to her and kicked at a chair. “Fuck.”

She heard a chuckle from the shadows of her bedroom. “Who’s there? At this point you’d be doing me a favor if you’re here to kill me.”

Bobbie stepped forward into the light. The relief Chrisjen felt swiftly disappeared as she took in Bobbie’s bruised face, split lip and limp. “What happened to you?” Chrisjen demanded.

Chrisjen watched as Bobbie retreated behind her soldier’s mask. “I can’t tell you. But I need a favor, ma'am.”

“Why, so you can get yourself killed?”

Bobbie clenched her fist. “Mars needs me. I thought you of all people would understand sacrificing yourself for your country!”

“Yes, I understand too well! And I am sick of losing people I love because of sacrifice! I do not want to lose you because of you doing something stupid for this emptying, lifeless rock!”

The two women stared at each other, breathing hard. “Fine,” Bobbie declared. “Fuck you.”

As Bobbie brushed past her on the way to the door, Chrisjen grasped her forearm. “Stop.” She turned to look at Bobbie, anger melting away and replaced with concern. “If I help you, will you be less likely to die?”

Bobbie’s face softened. “Yes, I will.”

Chrisjen squeezed Bobbie’s arm. “Sit. Let me get what passes for food around here and you can tell me what you need.”

Bobbie nodded.

Bobbie & Chrisjen - L. A stolen kiss

“Madam Secretary General!” Nathan Smith strode toward her, arm extended.

“Mr. Prime Minister!” she exclaimed, pasting on her best politician smile and giving him a very firm handshake. "Welcome to New York. I hope our gravity isn’t too much for you?“

"Of course not!” he chuckled and smiled as they both turned toward the cameras. “It takes more than gravity and sunlight to disturb a Martian!”

“We’ll see,” Chrisjen answered, pulling her hand away.

“I’m sure you’ll be pleased to meet a member of my delegation.” He gestured toward the knot of Martians. “Master Sargeant Draper.”

Chrisjen couldn’t mask her genuine smile as Bobbie joined them. “A promotion. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” Bobbie said, smiling.

Chrisjen surprised everyone, even herself, when she gathered Bobbie into a fierce hug. "I’m so fucking glad to see you.”

Bobbie lowered her head to whisper into Chrisjen’s ear, low enough that only she could hear. “I’m going to make you come so hard tonight, you forget your name.”

Chrisjen pulled back. "I look forward to it, Sergeant Draper.”

Finally, talks broke for lunch. Chrisjen stepped out of the conference room and ducked into an empty side room off of the lobby. She sighed and stretched her arms above her head, trying to work out some of the kinks in her back from the intensity of the negotiations. It’s fucking awful getting older.

Out of the corner of her eye, Chrisjen spotted Bobbie walking by the room. She reached out, grabbed Bobbie’s arm and pulled her into the room and shoved her against the wall. Standing on her tip toes, she reached her arms around Bobbie’s shoulders and pulled her into a bruising kiss. Bobbie moaned as Chrisjen deepened the kiss.

Chrisjen pulled back and looked at disheveled and discombobulated Bobbie. Chrisjen smirked and leaned into towards Bobbie. “Who’s forgetting her name now?” she said, as she wiped a lipstick mark from Bobbie’s lips before she exited the room.

Send me a prompt and I’ll write you a ficlet

#chrisjen avasarala #bobbie draper #the expanse #chrisjen x bobbie #lol i try to talk dirty in one of them?#presidentlauraroslin

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minnie-marvel · 6 years

Text

Night Terrors (Loki x Reader) Part 6

All your life you have lived with the strange ability to walk and manipulate the dreams of others. Your power helped you receive a job as a personal dream therapist for Tony Stark who eventually offered you the same position for the rest of his team at the Avenger’s tower. When you enter into Thor’s dream to pacify his nightmare he is impressed with your abilities and gives you a challenge: to help remedy his brother’s nightmares which are apparently a thousand times worse.

Loki x Reader

Words: 3,583

Warnings: violence, death

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

A/N: oh man, this really hurt to write. I’m sorry y’all.

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They laid Thor down in his own bed gently, as you had advised it would be better for Thor to wake up in a place that was familiar to him. Everyone crowded around his sleeping body silently as you took a step forward.

“How long will it take?” Loki demanded his voice sounded angry and frustrated, but there was a hint of fear laced over his words. You weren’t offended at his tone, you knew if the roles were reversed you would have his exact reaction.

“Hopefully not long…” You started as you took a seat on Thor’s bed at his side like you had hundreds of times before when you were together just having fun. Your heart only kept sinking. The spot that had been so familiar to you before now felt cold, lifeless and strange. “It depends on what I find in his dreamscape…. People can only be trapped there if they’re scared, or if they're made to believe that the dream their experiencing is an actual reality.” You explained. “Either way… it's not an easy feat. If I can’t get Thor out of it, I may be trapped in his world myself… I don’t know how powerful this other dream person is…” You whispered mostly to yourself.

“I know you can do it Dream eater,” Tony said placing a hand on your shoulder.

“You’ve worked miracles before and you can work miracles now. Even if this takes you hours, days, weeks, we’ll be here when you wake up with Thor to congratulate you,” He gave you soft smile that boosted your determination. Everyone was counting on you, Thor was counting on you. You gave a simple nod before exhaling.

“I’m ready.”

“Y/N…” Loki spoke before you could blink a second time. You looked over at him and saw him biting at the back of his thumb before he dragged his eyes from Thor’s body to your eyes. “Please, be safe.” He begged softly.

You couldn’t promise him anything, you weren’t going to lie to him again. You looked forward so that you could focus yourself and blinked three times, entering into the Doorway.

Everything felt urgent, it almost confused you. You had to take a moment to collect yourself before you went rushing into the wrong door. If you walked into the dreamscape of someone who was awake, they’d fall asleep instantly, and you knew that the Avengers didn’t need another comatose person on their hands. You felt yourself shiver slightly. That was strange, you hadn’t even started walking yet, why was Loki’s chill here as soon as you entered the Doorway?

You looked around the main hall to see his frostbitten door right between your father and mothers.

You touched your head and tried to shake away your incoming thoughts about him. You couldn’t focus on him right now, you had to get to Thor and wake him up. Who knew how much time you had already wasted by sitting around gawking? You touched your shoulders letting a jacket materialize on you before continuing on to find Thor’s door. Your steps were nimble as your head bounced from side to side looking at each door till you finally found his. You frowned, why did his door seem so dim in comparison to the other times you had seen it?

You reached for the double handles getting ready to pull it open but at your touch, you were immediately thrown back against another door by a powerful shock. You screamed in pain as you looked down at your hand and saw it was disgustingly disfigured, your hand bubbling and boiling with a raw meaty appearance. How did Thor’s door manage to do that to you?! Were his dreams so frightening that he refused to let anyone in? Your head started racing with questions all while you held your hand grimacing in your pain when you suddenly stopped.

You weren’t supposed to feel pain in your dreams.

It was a dream, after all, everything that happened in them was always made up of illusions, things weren’t actually supposed to hurt you unless you were convinced they were real. You took another glance at your hand after your epitome and saw your hand shift back to normal as if you had never been shocked. Your eyebrows knit together. Whoever this guy was, he was certainly powerful to have you question yourself when you hadn’t even entered a dream yet. You took a deep breath. Hold yourself together Y/N, you weren’t going to get Thor out if you kept getting tricked like this.

You went to his doors again and this time when you laid your hands on his handles you only felt slight vibrations as to oppose to the previous burning unbearable shock. You pulled his door open to see Asgard again in shambles. You took a deep breath. As terrible as this was, this was a familiar sight for you. You would be able to find Thor easily and be able to remedy him.

You walked across the crackling glass road trying not to focus as it was nearly crumbling on you. If you gave into your fears of what was happening in this dream, you would be swallowed up by it yourself. You kept your eyes forward as you entered the city of Asgard, people ran past of you screaming in terror shoving you each and every way. When a soldier shoved you down you tried not to look at him until he spoke to you.

“The princes! They’re falling by that she-demons hand!!!” He cowered. You both got up quickly and you searched his eyes. “Where are they fighting.” You demanded your voice unnaturally cool and deadpan.

The soldier pointed back towards the palace their entire body quivering. “T-The throne room!! No one can stop them!!” He said running past you now. “Save yourself!!” He cried. You took a deep breath before continuing your walk into the chaos.

You walked into the palace, bodies were scattered across the ground like confetti, it made your stomach knot up. You lifted your gaze to the center of the throne room where both Thor and Loki stood fighting against who you assumed to be Hela. Thor didn’t mention her often since her existence came shortly after his father’s death, he had only told you that she was frighteningly powerful and that he was lucky she had perished alongside his home.

You were taken aback at her presence; she actually seemed graceful when she fought. Her movements were seemingly effortless, like a dancer as she twirled her body to and fro avoiding Thor and Loki’s punches and stabs.

You quickly crouched behind a pillar. You were really starting to hate being in this Throne room. You peeked from behind the pillar as Thor fought against his sister. You stretched your hands out towards her to begin to puppet her. Just as you were about to force her movements her piercing green eyes darted to yours making your heart stop.

“It looks like we have a little guest!” She chirped throwing both Loki and Thor to the side as she made an advance towards you. You started to back away slowly. Puppeting her was no use now that your mission had been compromised.

“Y/N…?!” Thor grunted as he got up from where he stood. Your eyes darted to him. You couldn’t let yourself get wounded up in this dream. Stay calm. Stay calm.

“So you know this trespasser?” She asked standing in front of you now. “How delightful!” She grinned before swiftly grabbing you and twisting you around with two knives aimed at your throat. You felt sweat begin to bead at the top of your forehead.

“Lay not one fingertip on her you WENCH!” he shouted electricity beginning to dance across his arms. Loki stood too eyeing you and his sister.

“Oh? my my, what courage to try and command your older sister…” She laughed softly. “Do you know not who I am Thor?” you felt the edges of the knives begin to pinch into the skin of your neck.

“Hela…..”

You made a quick swipe and you suddenly felt blood gurgling from the depths of your throat, your body falling limply to the floor as blood pooled out of your mouth and onto the floor.

“I am the goddess of death.” She finished stepping on your body as she walked to confront her brothers again.

“HELA!!!” Thor bellowed lightning exploding from his hands as he charged forward punching his sister in the face with practically a trillion volts of lightning. You felt your heart beat out of your chest rapidly started hyperventilating the blood spattering across the floor and over your clothes as you let out a pathetic whimper, tears running down your cheeks. Were you dying?

You saw Loki begin to rush at Thor and Hela when you instinctively reached out and whimpered his name, your voice sounding weak, unnatural and full of your blood.

Little did you know, it was nearly midnight in the compound, and some of the Avengers were still waiting at your side. Many had left due to research what they could on the villain who had done this to Thor in the first place, but Natasha, Bruce, Tony, and Loki were still sitting at your side silently. Bruce had a tablet out researching possible methods to force the two of you to wake up if you happened to fall into a coma. Tony sat hands folded promptly above his face. He knew that you would be able to complete the mission, he just didn’t know when. With each passing hour, he grew more anxious. He wasn’t prepared to lose two friends in one day. Natasha sat comfortably while still having a watchful eye on you. She had never experienced your line of work but she would admit that after today’s fight, she was extremely curious as to how much you could actually do with your powers. And then there was Loki.

Internally, he was a mess but externally he kept cool and collected sitting properly as one leg bounced up and down. He watched your chest rise and fall constantly. He feared that if he let his eyes stray from you and Thor for even a moment, he would have lost you both.

That’s when the room heard you mutter his name.

It was honestly frightening, you sat perfectly still with your eyes wide opened as you slept when you suddenly whispered. Each spectator slowly looked at him unsure what to think or what to do.

“W-what? I…she…” Loki stammered at a loss for words suddenly noticing the attention that was on him. His eyes landed back on you, your eyebrows were suddenly clenching together as you whispered his name again, despair creaking out of your voice.

“What’s happening to her?!” Loki demanded, getting up from his seat getting ready to lift you out of the bed with his own hands.

“Watch it Reindeer games,” Tony said extremely defensive. He pushed him back with his hand blocking his path from you. Loki’s nose scrunched in anger and disgust.

“Unhand me Stark lest I make you,” He snarled shoving him slightly. “Can’t you hear her?! She’s calling for me if you expect me to stand idle while I twiddle my thumbs watching her in pain-”

“Hey man, what’s your problem!” Bruce raised his voice taking a stand too making the whole room ten times more delicate.

“We don’t know what will happen if we try to interfere with her,” Tony said continuing to place a hand on his chest to keep him from you. “For all we know, touching her could send her comatose. We just have to be patient.”

“She needs me.” He said. His voice sounded frailer than it had before. Natasha finally stood eyeing the trickster god as he still kept his eyes locked on you.

“We’re all concerned right now Loki,” she said folding her arms. “But we’re not going to compromise her mission just because she talked in her sleep.”

Loki looked at them all absolutely disgusted. He threw Tony’s arm off his chest. “And you people think I’m the one with the frozen heart.” He hissed.

“Loki, you can either stay here silent, or you can walk out there and not have to see anything,” Bruce warned. “We know that you want Thor to stay safe but Y/N, is trying everything that she can, we just have to let her work,” Bruce said.

“So let’s all just take a deep breath and settle down before things get ugly okay?” Slowly everyone sat back in their chairs listening to Bruce’s voice of reason. Loki folded his hands over his mouth while he watched you again silent. He could only pray that if you were calling to him in Thor’s dream, that he would be able to rescue you in a heartbeat just as he would have now.

You gurgled out Loki’s name a third time laying still on the floor of the palace in a pool of your own blood. The call was louder now and Loki’s eyes finally locked to yours seemingly remembering what Hela had done to you. He rushed to your side uncaring of the blood that he was now kneeling in. He picked your head up searching your eyes.

“You’re an idiot!” He hissed causing you to wince. “Did you honestly think you could take her on? She is the goddess of death and you’re nothing but a simple Midguardian! You never had a chance…” He muttered looking back at Thor who was still fighting against Hela. You couldn’t tell if this was Loki being overprotective or if this was him insulting your courage. Either way, you expected a little bit more seeing as you were dying in his arms. You thought he would hold you close, kiss you or even shed a tear but he just knelt there thinking of you as more of a burden than anything else.

You were honestly surprised; you thought it would be instant and that the pain would be over. Instead, you were sitting there your body bleeding out but you seemingly keeping on. You blinked suddenly sensing something was off. Now you weren’t very knowledgeable about fighting like the rest of the Avengers but you were fairly certain that you should have been dead by now. You cursed yourself as the gash on your neck healed in seconds, the pain drifting away now a far-off memory.

You had gotten caught up again just as you feared.

Loki stared at you in disbelief as you sat up straight wiping the blood from your neck and flicking it iff your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” You said quickly as you stood slowly watching Thor and Hela fight again.

“Thor!” You called for him taking a stand against Hela behind him again. She didn’t even bat an eyelash.

“Huh. I’m fairly certain I killed you minutes ago,” Hela said simply. “What are you, Asgardian? Undead? A goddess?” she asked as she held Thor by his neck choking him slowly.

“Neither.” You said looking at Thor now directly. “I’m a dream eater.” You finished his gaze suddenly widening at you. “Thor you’re asleep! You have to wake up before you’re stuck in this dream forever!” You explained. “None of this is real!! You have to change this dream to what you want it to be and wake up again!” You said.

“A dream…” Thor choked out. He let out a laugh. “I should have known….” He locked his eyes on Hela who seemed to be looking back at him in fear. “It’s over for you sister…” He suddenly roared so loudly that the entire throne room began to quake. His body suddenly started to glow blue as lightning charged about him when the room started to brighten. You had to shield your eyes as the light only grew suddenly exploding in a flash that you thought was as bright as a supernova.

Your eyes blinked and suddenly you were back in Thor’s room where he slowly woke groaning miserably. You made a sudden quick and desperate sigh of relief. “We made it…” you whispered pulling a hand through your hair.

The rest of the room softly began to stir, all but one of them had fallen asleep. Loki let a relaxed breath escape his lips as he watched you and Thor stretch simultaneously getting out of the bed. Tony rubbed his eyes. “Knew you could do it dream eater…” He yawned.

“What time is it?” You asked quickly. You prayed that a week hadn’t passed.

“Its three thirty-seven AM,” Loki answered approaching you. He took your hand in his and looked at you silently his heart beating rapidly. “Y/N…are you alright?” He asked softly. “I’m fine,” you nodded as his body seemed to relax at your words.

“Whoaaaa….. what the fuck.” Tony drawled still half asleep watching you two.

“Brother…? Y/N?” Thor asked a light bulb seemingly going off on top of his head. “By Odin’s beard…”

Natasha only rolled her eyes, having known from the moment Loki reacted to you calling his name. “Why don’t we all get to bed, it’s been a long night.” She said ushering all but Thor out of his room.

“Oh hell yes, I forgot that Y/N gave me the star treatment before all this dream mess happened.” He said excitedly rushing to the elevator.

“Goodnight everyone,” Nat said before her eyes fell on you. “Good job tonight Y/N. Don’t know what we would have done if we didn’t have you.” She gave you a nod before disappearing with Bruce into the halls.

You and Loki stood together quietly, his eyes glued to the floor. “Why don’t we talk,” You offered to reach for his hand. You locked your fingers with his and he looked at you softly. “I…would like that.” He said as you lead him into your room. You sat on your bed with him still silent, he was obviously still shocked after today’s events.

“I know you probably have a lot of questions…” You said nuzzling close to his body. You leaned your head into the crook of his neck. You felt him lean his chin atop of your head.

“What happened?” Was all he could say. “You called for me in the middle of the night… you looked like you were in pain,” He whispered. You felt your face flush.

“Y-you heard that?” You asked wanting to hide under your covers. “My sweet Y/N, everyone heard it,” he said giving a soft chuckle. “Were you alright?”

Your lips pursed together tightly. “I don’t think you’d want to know,” You murmured.

“Try me.”

You took a deep breath. “You and Thor were fighting against Hela,” you explained. “She caught me trying to manipulate the dream so she took me and she….” You touched your neck gently still feeling where she had sliced.

“...She killed me.”

You felt his grip on you tighten and his entire body seemed to clench. “Is that when you called for me?” he asked turning his gaze to you now. You nodded silently. You felt him take you by the chin with his free hand and kissed you gently. You felt his hurt seemingly leak into you and you felt tears drip down your cheeks.

He pulled back immediately drying your tears. “Y/N… I vow on my very life that I will never let anyone touch you unless you desire it,” He promised laying a kiss on top of your forehead. You only buried your face in his chest unable to stop. You couldn’t continue with him, with anything. Seeing how Loki cared for you and longed for you only made your heart throb in pain. The secrets that you kept from him were tying your heart up tightly every time you spoke without telling him the truth.

“I…I can’t…” You whispered pulling your head up from his neck. “L-Loki I…”

“Y/N,” he interrupted trailing a finger down your cheek. “I love you,” He whispered.

You started gasping for air the ropes tied around your heart were suffocating you now. You had reached your tipping point. You couldn’t breathe if you had to keep it any longer.

“Loki please listen to me,” You managed to squeak out.

“I know you want to preserve your friendship with Thor, but I promise not to interfere with you,” he said taking both your hands now. “Y/N, you are the only one who’s made me feel accepted…. You care for me in ways that my own father didn’t,”

You wheezed tears streaming down your cheeks, yet he still continued.

“Before I met you... before I truly met you,” he whispered. “I was riddled by night terrors for years. Of what I had done to Thor, to my mother, to my entire family…” He explained. His eyes searched yours now and you felt like dying every time he smiled as he spoke. “But once I met you… they all stopped, I started to…care again, not only for you but for myself.” He took your chin again between his fingers. “Y/N, I love you...” he said softly before his hand began to bring your lips closer to his. “Please... tell me you love me in return...”

“Loki I walked in your dreams!” You whispered quickly, desperately, unable to bear another kiss from him when your mouth was filled with lies.

You felt everything stop, as the truth finally graced your lips.

Part 7

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diveronarpg · 5 years

Photo

Congratulations, LIA! You’ve been accepted for the role of PARIS with a faceclaim change to Jordan Bolger. Admin Rosey: Lia, you have no idea how happy we are to finally have a Priam in our midst. He’s a character that has always been very close to my heart because I love characters that you expect to be overlooked, shadowed by more gaudy and boisterous personalities. But you bring a subtle shine to Priam, like a dying star that’s about to explode and consume us all. Your plots for him make me especially excited because even then you bring his voice to life - you make him wholly yours while doing so. I can’t wait to see him on the dash! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | I’m Lia but my friends call me Lil Li Nasty. (not really :/)

Age | 20.

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her.

Activity Level | I’m able to login 3 to 4 days during the week for replies.

Timezone | EST.

Current/Past RP Accounts | You can look at this one if you’d like. ;-)

In Character

Character | The lovely Paris, AKA Priam Taravella. With a faceclaim change to Jordan Bolger.

What drew you to this character? | Let’s be real, I’m a sucker for morally ambiguous characters with a ton of internal turmoil sdkflfdgk. But I’ve never played a character quite like Priam, which is what drew me to him even more? Like I’ve always played dreamy characters with their heads in the clouds, but this isn’t Priam whatsoever. He has no interest in dreaming, if it isn’t something attainable, then he wastes no time thinking about it. He’s almost practical to a fault, like come on dude you can have one dream! The sheer purposelessness that pervades through his being, his overwhelming desire to belong to something, to someone. All of this contrasted by his inability to understand the concept of love (after all, how can you truly understand something you’ve never experienced?) and his ever shifting principles. Priam is the epitome of someone who gets excited and does something consistently for two days then loses interest and finds something new a few days later aksdjsdlkf I love him for it!

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

il tipo volubile / the fickle fellow — everchanging are his ideas and everchanging are his loyalties. cosimo capulet gave him a sense of purpose and for that he’ll forever be thankful, but priam, ever the opportunist, is partial to whomever offers him the best opportunity. he doesn’t behave this way with the intention of appearing disloyal, but priam prioritizes his need to belong and find purpose over his loyalty. there’s no telling how far he’ll go to occupy his void and betrayal isn’t necessarily out of the question.

mobilità verso l'alto / upward mobility — priam is confident with his standing in the mob, and almost too comfortable with it. i’d be interested in a situation where he screws up, possibly compromising the mob, which will be almost unreal to him because he’s just used to everything going the way that he wants it for the most part? to also keep his position secure, i see him blackmailing a few people, caps and monts, so that’ll be something interesting i see playing out. ;-)

finché morte non ci separi / till death do us part — just as priam had suspected, the montague heir had blossomed into reasonable competition. an attractiveness unrivaled by most, with a soft disposition outlining sharp features, everything verona wanted and more. him and the phan girl had made quite the handsome couple, her perceptiveness balancing out his altruism, but neither the montague heir nor the phan girl recognized this wasting potential. priam had every intention of turning his and juliana’s engagement into an opportunity, as this was a chance for them to play up their marriage to the veronans, affording them just enough of a peak into their lives that they await with watering mouths, for any other opportunity at sight. the least he could do for the pair of them was make them loved by many. and into oblivion will the montague heir fall. priam desires to be remembered to such a degree, that there simply won’t be enough room in the mind of verona for both of them. and he is actively working for this outcome.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes. >:-)

In Depth

In-Character Interview:

What is your favorite place in Verona? | We recommend looking at the location page and reading it over to figure out where your character’s favorite place is – if it’s not their own house/room.

He pondered the question for a moment, mouth pressed thoughtfully to his fist, before turning to the interviewer with a toothy grin. “There’s a garden on the Capulet estate, just west of the of the glass room.” Priam inclined backwards in his chair, perfectly manicured hands crossed in his lap, his eyes fixated on the wall reminiscently. “Juliana and I were first married there. She’d wanted a dress with a matching veil, but naturally her parents hadn’t approved, so she’d settled for the flower crown I made for her.” He’d been magnetizing. There was something about the way Priam carried himself, that just drew whoever he’d been speaking to in. His hands moved in unison with his words, the pictures building upon the story he told. “I made it out of yellow daisies. Tybalt officiated the marriage, and we’d done a butterfly kiss, and that was that. I intend on marrying her in that same garden.”

What does your typical day look like?

“Talking and more talking.” He chuckled purposefully. “In all seriousness, that’s what my job is. Knowing exactly what to say and in the right moment. It’s a delicate art form, you somehow have to make the other side satisfied, while simultaneously achieving the best possible outcome in favor of your own side.” He toyed with his Ferragamo cufflinks. “When I’m not doing that, I’m working with Cosimo. He’s practically taken me under his wing. I’ve learned so much in these past few years with him. He’s like a second father to me.” It had been an easy position to fill, with Priam’s own father being anything but. “When I’m not working, then I’m working out or spending time in nature. I’ve studied certain scenes so much that I could practically paint them from memory.” Priam had actually had his hand at painting, and while they’d been painted skillfully,per say, the complete lack of passion and lifelessness emitting from them had almost been disturbing.

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

Something dark flashed across his countenance, as he recalled the Capulet soldier he’d nearly been caught disposing of. They’d been symbolic of the people who attempted to disrupt his path to wars spoils— the city and the throne. The bride. The notoriety. The name. “There was a time when I was younger,” he begun with pursed lips. “When I wore white socks and black shoes. My parents never let me hear the end of it. I haven’t made that mistake since.” Priam sinks into his seat, smiling humorously, beckoning the interviewer in with his silly, boyish hospitality. He hadn’t the time to dwell on the past or mistakes. Only of the now and what will propel him to the future.

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

Mixing family and work— always a tricky task. Something he learned he ultimately could not handle. It made way to Cosimo gifting him a canvas, giving Priam the opportunity to paint whatever portrait of himself he pleased. Give me at least one part politician and one part killer. That was all that he’d required of him. And thus he began his Capulet reign. “Not losing sight of myself amidst the chaos,” he responded thoughtfully, careful to speak just the right amount. “Becoming one with Verona requires a certain fee. You pay in the relinquishment of your humanity. And if you don’t voluntarily pay, then she’ll force it from you.” Priam, on the other hand, had been on a quest to sell his humanity to the highest bidder.

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

“Inevitable. With great power comes great longing. No powerful person ever went without people desiring the power for themselves. And thus erupted a war.” This was one of those moments Priam had grown to appreciate, the ones where he’d been able to speak freely, from whatever parts of him that had remained authentic. He tilted his head with a raised eyebrow, lips etched into a teasing smile. “I’ve grown bored of your questions. Now, if there’s anything else outside of the interview you’d like to further discuss…”

Extras:

myers briggs: the commander (entj-a)

“Commanders are natural-born leaders. People with this personality type embody the gifts of charisma and confidence, and project authority in a way that draws crowds together behind a common goal. However, Commanders are also characterized by an often ruthless level of rationality, using their drive, determination and sharp minds to achieve whatever end they’ve set for themselves. Perhaps it is best that they make up only three percent of the population, lest they overwhelm the more timid and sensitive personality types that make up much of the rest of the world – but we have Commanders to thank for many of the businesses and institutions we take for granted every day.”

random brainstorming for priam.

muse tag.

playlist.

aesthetic—

cartier hoops, a poisoned tongue positioned between antidote lips, fickle values and fickler lovers, indefinite scowls, a pair of sunglasses for every day of the week, provocative realism, a tipsy crown (if it weren’t for the graff vivid yellow diamonds, it’s tilt might’ve been discernible), a gaping void, pompous vexation, flowery tattoos (the only evidence of permanence in your life), morsel of your true self, anything to belong, salvatore ferragamo’s limited edition loafers, an impassioned youth.

#accepted: paris #accepted

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snelbz · 6 years

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Prompt (if you want, i really love all of your fanfics) where Feyre has a nightmare but Ehya is away and Cassian or Azriel goes to her room and calms her down, stays with her and fall asleep together. Thank you so much anyway 😘

Feyssian is my ultimate BroTP. Enjoy, Nonnie.——————————It was happening more and more when he was away. With Nesta on a mission to the Dawn Court, Rhys himself had to go to the Winter Court, to congratulate the High Lord and Lady on the arrival of the new Heir.“It won’t be long,” he had promised, kissing her forehead before he winnowed away, attending ceremonies and rituals that took place whenever the first heir to a Court was born. And if he was at the Winter Court, she had to stay in Velaris. She understood, begrudgingly, and agreed.Every night, she climbed into bed, wearing one of his tunics. She knew he was busy, but he still found the spare moment to send a thought of love down the bond.And every night, like clockwork, Feyre woke up thrashing in their bed. The sheets were damp with her sweat and the room had filled with the night that she had inherited from her mate.She would reach for him in her sleep, and when her hands hit the cold, empty sheets, her unconscious mind went to work.Sometimes, she dreamed of her mortal death, of him screaming her name as she was broken by the queen who no longer deserved to be mentioned.Sometimes, she dreamed that everything had gone wrong that night in Hybern. That her Court had been destroyed. Snapping wings, blood curdling screams and poison flowing through blood streams. And there was nothing she could do but watch.But tonight; tonight had been the worst of all. Tonight she had dreamed about that day. About the day when it had almost all gone to Hell. Turning to find her mate on the ground, lifeless; no color in his warm, golden skin; cold. The other High Lords had refused, had told her there was nothing they could do. She had wept; screamed. She had tried on her own, but her powers weren’t nearly as strong as the power of six other High Lords.She’d groveled to Tamlin, who looked at her with pity. She’d begged Helion, who himself had been crying.There was nothing she could do.A banging noise tore her from her sleep. She was tangled in the sheets, a silent scream attempting to tear from her throat.“Feyre!” The door was nearly bowing open with the force of the fists on the other side. “Mother help me, Feyre, I swear, I’ll blow this door open if you don’t give me some indication that you’re alive in there.”Opening her mouth to reply, ash tumbled to the sheets. She wiped the remains away, a grey smear remaining on her lips and the back of her hand, and stood, making her way to the door. She opened it and Cassian was there, both hands braced on the door frame above her. There was murder in his hazel eyes, murder and…fear.“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “The nightmares…”Before she could say anything else, she was wrapped in those huge arms and he held her to his chest. His chin rested on the top her head.There was nothing romantic in the gesture, just the fact that it was in an intimate setting. It was a comfort, a General being there for his High Lady; a sister leaning on her big brother.“I get them, too,” he said, breaking the silence. “Especially since the war.”All Feyre could do was nod. The warm scent that embodied Cass was grounding her, bringing her back to the here and now.“They usually involve losing your devil of a sister. I wake up and reach for her and she swats my hands away, telling me to grow a pair and get over it.” He was chuckling, and Feyre could hear the love for Nesta in his voice. She knew that they too were healing from the war together.“Are you okay?” He asked, leaning back to look into her watery eyes.She nodded and he smiled, wiping away a tear that had fallen down her cheek. He let her go and smiled at her. “Come on.”He lead her down into the kitchens and told her to sit down and relax. She sat on the couch in the adjoining living room and bundled under a blanket. When he made his way into the room, he carried a plate that held two massive slices of lemon cake and two glasses of milk. Feyre sat up a little more. “Where in the world did you get those?”A smirk quirked up his lips. “General’s secret.” He handed her a plate and they ate in silence, only the sound of the cutlery on the china filling the room.Setting her plate on the coffee table in front of them, she leaned her head onto Cassian’s shoulder. "Do they ever go away?” She asked as he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. “Do they ever get easier?”A sigh left his lips. “I can’t answer that, Feyre. Mine haven’t, but… I’ve seen a lot of bad shit. You can only lean on your family, and you know we’re here for you.”She could only nod. A moment of silence hung between them. “Tell me something good,” she whispered, her eyes getting heavy.“Something good,” he mused, running a hand through his loose hair, already messy from sleep. “When I was 14, Rhys’s mother asked me if I’d want to get out of the camps for a few hours. I thought she meant we were going flying, so I told her sure. I was always willing to train and I thought this was just another chance for that. But she held out her hand instead and I took it. It was the first time I had ever winnowed.” He laughed. “Thought I was going to be sick. But she brought me here,” he looked around the room. “To the House. She explained what Velaris was. What the city meant.”Feyre glanced up at him, he was staring out one of the massive openings, to the glittering city below.“Even at that point, it was clear I was going to be different. While Rhys, Az and the rest of them were growing strong, they were still fairly gangly. All long limbs and even longer wings. By 14, I was already well past 6’ and none of the clothes the camp gave us fit me right. I’d either get trouble for tearing a shirt during training or not wearing one at all.” He was chuckling again, a mix of amusement and pride in his gaze. “She flew with me, over the city, pointing out all of her favorite places. And we stopped at a tailor’s shop, in the Rainbow. She introduced me to Stephan, who I still go to to this day. She had him make me an entire wardrobe, custom fit to my exact measurements.” He stopped speaking and after a moment, Feyre looked up to ensure he was still awake. She caught the glimmer of a single tear slipping down his tanned cheek, before he wiped it away. “It had been years since she pulled me out of the freezing rain and into her cabin, but it still amazed me. The love she gave to this bastard, who was destined to be no more than a foot soldier on a battlefield, than to be a casualty in one of her mate’s battles.”“I wish I could have met her,” Feyre whispered, laying her head back on his shoulder.There was no hesitancy in his reply. “She would have adored you.”Feyre’s eyes were misty as she said, “Tell me more, please.”And so he did.He told her of her kindness and love and beauty. He told her about how she was the only one able to shut Rhys’s father up. He told her, that in ways, Feyre reminded him of her.And as they drifted off to sleep, watching the sun rise over the Velaris skyline, they both felt a little more whole than they had the night before.

#toab answers #toab prompts #toab asks #throne of ashes and beauty #feyssian BroTP

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thymesisandpsyche · 6 years

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Tea Turning Cold (01)

Notes:

The first of my headcanon series. Hehe.

Tags: Post-ACWNR, grief, Canonverse, start of a new friendship

Relationships: Hange Zoe/Levi

Characters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit, mentions of Isabel, Farlan, and Erwin Smith.

Number of words: 1181

It was the first time that the long-range scout formation was implemented, and it was a failure. More than a third of the soldiers made it back alive, but there was no life in their eyes as they marched through the small streets of Shiganshina.

Levi was walking slowly with the other soldiers, holding on the ropes of his horse, and not caring about the aversive murmurs of civilians against the Survey Corps. He has three thoughts in his mind: first, his decision to leave behind Isabel and Farlan to kill Erwin himself; second, the lifeless bodies of the same two important people he left behind as he saw them through his own eyes; and lastly, his decision to finally embrace the responsibility of being a member of the Survey Corps, and his resolve to eradicate all the titans.

He cannot measure how much bereaved he was. He cannot describe how painful it is to lose the only ones he knew as his family. Even so, he needs to move forward. He needs a new reason to live. After all, he learned that to live is to survive – and being above the ground is no different from being underground. Nonetheless, feelings from the past kept on coming back. He once again felt the loneliness he had when he found his mother lying down lifeless, and when his mentor turned his back on him when he managed to bring that big man down. Once again, he is alone – and he is no stranger to this feeling.

All his thoughts and feelings are masked by his expressionless façade, in contrast to the soldiers around the dining hall who are unusually quiet, and in contrast to those brave enough to wail. All of them just came back from the expedition, and they are just taking their first dinner after going back to the headquarters.

He was sitting alone in a bench, sipping his tea and in deep thought when suddenly-

“Levi.”

He did not turn around, but the source of the voice walked and sat beside him. He did not care to respond, either.

“How are you?”

He suddenly remembered Farlan’s voice: “Be sociable.” He turned his head to face the soldier talking to him. It was the same person who first approached and praised him, Isabel, and Farlan while they were having a break during the past expedition. He then thought that it wouldn’t be that bad to talk back.

While staring at the soldier’s face beside him, he noticed the blood staining the straps of her combat goggles. He then caught a glimpse of occasional bloodstains all over her military jacket. Mundane things about the recent events then started running though his head.

“Your goggle straps.” These are the only words he managed to blurt out, without knowing whether she would understand that he’d also like to know her current state.

“I will be okay, Levi.” The soldier assured him, who seemingly got what he was trying to convey. “These isn’t my own blood though. It is the blood of one of my squad members I tried to save.” She continued, while staring down the table.

Levi then realized that he is not the only one who’s hurting.

“Is it always like this, Hange?” He inquired.

“It is good to know that you remembered my name, at the least.” Hange responded, with relief in her voice. However, the weary in her then-bright eyes was still there.

“Let me tell you a short story. Not long ago, out of 300 soldiers who enlisted in the military, only 21 made it to the Survey Corps. Or should I say, only 21 were brave enough to join the Corps.”

Levi continued to listen, waiting for the relevance of this story to his question.

“Similar to your own case, right after their recruitment, they participated in the expedition outside the walls. During that time though – the formation and approach to titans was different. Once a titan is sighted, it is necessary to go for the kill immediately.”

Deeper burrows were seen in Levi’s forehead, and hearing this newly-found information about the Corps, he responded:

“That’s useless. There’s a higher risk of getting more people killed.”

“Exactly. That’s why a lot of people fear in joining the Survey Corps, and a lot of civilians scorn us. That’s also why Erwin devised the long-distance scouting formation to lessen the Corps’ mortality rates.” Hange explained.

“What happened to the 21 recruits?” Levi asked.

“Oh…right. Sorry about that. After the expedition, only one survived.” Hange sadly replied.

Levi’s eyes twitched in shock, wondering if that person is still alive. “Who?”

“That’s me, Levi.”

Their eyes meet for a moment, seeing through each other. He understood what Hange was trying to do. For the very first time, Levi found a person in the Corps whom he shared his grief with.

“I am not as sociable as I look, you see.” Hange tried to explain further. “People would always say that I’m weird and eccentric – oh, I think you have thought of me the same way, i-I will not be surprised! But, I’m the closest with my batchmates in the Cadet Corps and I thought I wouldn’t be needing anyone else as long as I’m with them. They understood me better, and we’d been together during difficult times...”

“But they all died on your first expedition.” Levi bluntly remarked.

“Indeed.”

“So, what you are trying to say is…” Levi was hesitant to continue.

“That’s right. I chose to move forward and get to know people more in the Corps. And I did – gradually.”

“What an advice to give to a fool who just lost his only friends.” Levi retorted.

“B-but there’s more, Levi!” Hange panicked, thinking that she might annoy Levi. “What I really want to say is, you don’t have to be alone. If you need a person to talk with, it is not necessary to try to talk with everyone. I-I know! I fully understand the situation you’re in.”

“What are you on about?” From his expressionless face, Levi began to scowl.

“What I would like to say, Levi, is y-you can start with me, if you need to talk with anyone in the corps.” Hange sighed.

Levi did not know how to respond. It was the first time someone offered to listen to him. He was thinking that perhaps, over time, he can learn to trust Hange.

“I see.” Levi turned away and faced the table again. A moment of silence ensued.

“Hange-hancho*!” A soldier called. “You are needed in the office.”

Hange answers the soldier: “I’ll be there shortly. Thanks, Moblit!” Still facing Levi, she said: “Levi, I need to go for now. We’ll continue talking next time.” She then grabbed both of his hands, like a friend assuring that she will be by his side, and looked at him in the eyes: “I hope that you will soon be okay. We will be okay.” She finally stood up and waved him goodbye.

Levi, still overwhelmed, resumed in sipping his tea. He realized that it was already cold.

Written by: thymesisandpsyche | please do not repost anywhere else

Other notes:

My first fanfic! Yay! I have been reading a lot of wonderful fanfictions and this is the result of getting inspired by them! (Thank you so much, wonderful authors!)

I tried to stick to the canonverse as possible, and I will always do so in my next fanfics.

*Hancho means the head of a group, or squad. This is the rank of Squad Leader Ness (Armin’s squad leader). I just thought that this rank is lower than the buntaichou rank. And back then, Hange wasn’t a buntaichou yet (unlike Erwin and Flagon). But take note that this is just my assumption lol

**As you have seen, there are parts where Hange was stuttering because I don’t think she’s always the eccentric and the straightforward one. I just recalled those scenes where she stuttered for a bit (when Eren showed an interest to hear her experiments) and where she’s shy (when the journalists congratulated her and the Survey Corps).

***I did not forget that Levi is as blunt as always, and sometimes shitty for words. Lol.

#fanfiction #levihan #shingeki no kyojin #headcanon #hange zoe #levi ackerman

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likexporcelain · 7 years

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When the End Comes - Jonerys Fic

Takes place after the Great War. Jon and Daenerys battle in King's Landing for the Iron Throne, and win. But, both are left wondering if the other is still alive.

Also posted to Ao3

He had sworn to get her the Iron Throne. He had sworn to himself that his father and brother would be avenged. Jon Snow did not truly believe he would survive the Great War, but there he stood, fighting again. This should have been the easy part. Once you've defeated death, what could stop you?

He wasn't sure when it happened exactly. Was it before or after he sliced the head off of that goldcloak? Was it before or after he flew off his horse to drive Longclaw down the spine of a Lannister soldier? After he beheaded the Sellsword who had Tormund on his back in the mud? Whatever the exact time, at some point during the battle, standing among the slaughter, blood dripping down his face like tears, he watched them take her.

The first emotion he felt was anger. Angry that Daenerys was not atop Drogon like they had planned. Angry at Tyrion for no doubt sanctioning the ludicrous idea that she should not be atop Drogon. Mostly, though, he was angry with himself for being stuck in the muck, dodging swords, spears and arrows instead of casting them into the Mountain's rotten flesh and pulling the woman he loved to safety.

The Lannister Army, and even the Sellswords were no match for Jon, but he was fighting at half-capacity as he kept one eye trained on Daenerys as she was dragged into the Red Keep. Stabbing, slicing, carving and piercing, Jon fought his way toward her, inch by bloody inch, but she was so far away. And soon, she was gone, thrown through the castle doors that slammed shut behind her.

Jon could hardly breathe from the blood that filled his nose, and he could hardly hear from the blood that crusted in his ears. He was unrecognizable from all the rest, just another one of the infantry men dressed in each others' blood.

Drogon and Rhaegal circled the castle, crying out for their mother. The very last thing Jon's eyes beheld before his knees gave out and his mind blackened, was the Red Keep igniting in a wild blaze.

Daenerys awoke hours after the battle was finished, blinking bits of dust from her eyes and pulling her bare limbs from piles of ash and snow that wanted to cling to her like a robe. Her long silver hair was all that covered her shoulders. Her teeth chattered and her skin felt like ice.

Slowly, she rose, all alone in the rubble that once was the throne room. Now, giant gaping holes in the ceiling opened up the great hall to the elements, allowing snow to fall and cover the fancy floors turned black and burnt. The windows were empty frames in crumbled walls, letting the sharp breeze fill the room with cold.

When Ser Davos entered the room, eyes blood shot and face white as a sheet, he found the Queen sitting upon the throne, naked body folded over, arms hugging her knees to her chest as the temperature slowly ate away at her senses.

“You Grace,” he said with a look of concern – no, a look of terror.

Jon's adviser bounded across the room and up the cracked steps on his unsteady legs while he pulled the thick cloak from his shoulders. He draped it around the Queen's. Thankfully, she responded immediately, pulling the cloak ever tighter around her shivering body.

“Is it over?” she uttered the simple question, still having not made eye contact with the man. She wasn't even sure she wanted him to answer.

“Aye, Your Grace,” he answered softly. “It's over.”

“Did we win?”

“Aye.”

“And. . .” she began, pausing to take a long ragged breath. “Is Jon. . .?”

“I don't know, You're Grace.” Davos bowed his head. “There were a lot of casualties. Thousands. It'll take some time to sort through. . .” He stopped himself. “We're lookin' for him.”

The Queen stood from the throne. The bottom of Davos's cloak pooled around her bare feet as she took slow, careless steps toward the half-destroyed balcony. She failed to notice the bits of glass that scattered the floor burrowing into the flesh under her feet. Or, if she did notice, she didn't care.

Gazing out at the battlefield from the height of the Red Keep, Daenerys thought it looked more like a large cluster of beetles than the site of a massacre, some bodies wiggled about and some laid deadly still, abandoned banners strewn about the scene. She noticed a flash of white roaming the bodies. Ghost, searching for his father no doubt. 'Please,' she prayed. 'Please let him be alive.'

Only for a minute could her eyes roam the lifeless forms of the Unsullied soldiers and Dothraki bloodriders, Northern armies and their allies, even their fallen enemies, before she had to turn away with sickness. She retched, hand on her stomach, but nothing came up. Had it really been that long since she'd eaten? What little sunlight they had was dissipating quickly. If they did not find Jon before the night took hold, she feared they never would. And then. . . would it all have been for nothing?

Suddenly, the air filled with the low, echoing howl of Ghost and Daenerys's stomach dropped.

Davos was by her side in an instant, peering over the balcony, but the Queen dared not take another glance. “If he's alive. . .” she began.

“I'll bring him to you, Your Grace,” he replied swiftly and turned to go.

“Ser Davos,” she called out to him before he left her sight. “If he's dead. . . bring him to me still.”

The Queen's companions began filtering in, congratulating her on the victory, but she didn't want to hear any of it. Was this the point at which she was supposed to rule over the Seven Kingdoms? From this pile of rubble she was surrounded by? From this hard, unforgiving chair she curled herself in, trying to clear her mind of all the blood and screams and the last words Jon spoke to her before the battle began: “I wish you good fortune in the wars to come.”

She had smiled at his silliness in the face of death. He was so sweet and charming for such a talented killer. She should have taken things more seriously, she should have forced him to take them more seriously, she should have grabbed his face and kissed him like it would be there last. Instead, she went her way and he went his. They had different rolls to play in the battle. She had survived her roll. Had he survived his?

The soft sound of footsteps padding over broken lumber and stone drew Daenerys's attention toward the room's main entrance. Ghost's bright red eyes shone back at her from the other side of the room, his large white body spattered with red.

She stood.

Beside the direwolf, Ser Davos stepped forward earnestly and leaning against him, favoring one leg, was a man she hardly recognized at first. His hair and beard caked with blood and the skin of his face covered in the same deep red that coated his dented armor and torn clothes. But it was him.

“Jon,” she whispered into the cold.

The King in the North removed himself from his adviser and hobbled forward. Daenerys felt each one of his footsteps like a needle in her heart and when his legs could go no further and his knees sunk to the floor, she gathered up her cloak and ran to him, down the throne steps, across the snow and dirt and broken things, and before he could fall she dropped down and threw her arms around him.

Dany wept against his shoulder as she felt his warm breath on the side of her face, proving to her that Jon Snow was still alive in there. She took his face in her hands and leaned back to look into his eyes. Yes, those same dark brown eyes gazed back at her. She swiped her thumbs under them, the blood wiping off with the wetness of his tears. She pressed her lips to his, forgiving the taste of battle and death upon them.

Nothing else mattered in that moment, not the wind turning her skin blue, not her advisers watching from the shadows, not that hideous chair behind her or the stench of stale fire.

And then he smiled. “It's good to see you,” he murmured, voice hoarse and deep.

She breathed in his words like she needed them more than air.

“I thought you'd died.”

“Die?” he asked with a rough, quiet chuckled. “That doesn't sound like me.”

Daenerys pulled him against her once more, holding him as tightly as her bruised arms would allow. He groaned against her, struggling to even lift his own arms to reciprocate their embrace.

“I love you, Dany,” he told her and her heart pounded inside her chest.

Daenerys knew the King in the North loved her, everyone did, but she wasn't sure if she ever actually heard the words from his lips before. It was hard for him, she knew. It was hard for her too.

“I love you,” she breathed in response into the crook of his neck. “And it's all over now. The war is over – all of the wars – and we're still here. We don't have to fight anymore. You don't have to fight anymore. It's over.”

#rated g i believe????#there's implied violence and lots of mentions of blood but there's nothing graphic #mine #fic #jonerys #jon x dany #jon x daenerys #jonerys fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #got fanfiction #jonerys fic

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