#but I love Tuck's thousand yard 'this might as well happen. my life is already so goddamn weird' stare skgjhdfghkjh

[blujaydoodles]

"...and you can see what appears to be... gnomes who... have just kind of accepted the fact that they're being dragged through the air by a very powerful creature; they're like being held by their shirts, with their arms kind of folded"

Originally posted to my patreon as part of a larger WIP that I just never came back to, here is the one thing we do canonically know for sure about how this rescue actually went, courtesy of our druid learning how to scry

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #character art #illustration #gnomes #do you think Ancient Dragon Man explained literally any of what was going on because it surely Did Not Look That Way lmao #this was also over a year ago idk if I'm ever gonna properly finish it at this point #the thing is the first drawing feels so stiff I'd actually rather completely redo it :'D #but I love Tuck's thousand yard 'this might as well happen. my life is already so goddamn weird' stare skgjhdfghkjh #man. the problem is I DO want it to BE finished I just don't wanna have to actually spend time on doing that :') #so since I probably won't I'm releasing (part of) it from patreon cause I never intended for it to STAY completely exclusive #on the meta Mel's parents are so funny to me because it took me like four real life years to think of ANYTHING for them besides 'they exist' #but as soon as I was able to start building them properly I got very attached immediately dkfhgkh I lov them so much #my OCs #tukklewyn #xenia #melliwyk #vale walkers #dungeons and doodles

[buckysgoldenheart]

Sacrifice: August Walker x Reader

Summary: When Lane finds you, August if forced to make a choice.

Words: 1432

Hope you guys like it! Comments are always appreciated. 

“It’s not him!” Ethan yelled through the phone.

“What?”

“The man we have here is not our main guy! He’s just an accomplice! It’s been Lane behind this all along! Walker, get Y/N and go! He knows where you are.”

August paled and dropped the bag of groceries you asked had him to pick up; the contents splattering and flying across the floor, then clicked off his phone and sprinted back to the small boat he used to get from the mainland to the tiny island Hunt had sent you both to.

He screamed your name as he hopped off the boat into the water and hurried to the house. His body slammed through the door he told you to lock, his eyes quickly searching for your face. A breath escaped when he saw you standing in the doorway to the bedroom, but the sense of fear radiated throughout the room.

Your eyes were red, and you shook your head slightly. “August—,” You whispered, lips quivering.

August took a step towards you, and with that step your body was harshly pushed into the room by the gun at the back of your head.

“Hello, Mr. Walker,” Lane’s eerie, gravelly voice greeted. “Please, have a seat. We have something we need to discuss.”

“Y/N—,” August’s fingers twitched your way as he softly spoke your name, praying it conveyed what he hoped you already knew: He would do whatever necessary to keep you safe, no matter the cost.

“Oh, don’t worry. As long as you give me what I need, nothing bad will happen to your woman.” Lane pushed you forward again, the gun now against your spine. August sat as you did, his body in a large chair a few yards away from your place on the couch where Lane had also pulled up a seat. “Now,” Lane began but paused at the look August was giving you. “I know…it’s hard to see the ones we love used against us. Truthfully, I had no intention of threatening her. She means nothing to me, though I know you do not feel the same, and unfortunately, that condemned her.”

August’s eyes never left yours. He was beating himself up inside, you could tell. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands, then glared at Lane. “What do you want?”

“Hunt,” Lane demanded. “He has something I want, and now…I have something you want.” He then dragged the muzzle of the gun softly down your cheek. When you flinched, you saw something in August’s eyes darken.

“What does he have?”

“An associate of my mine is currently in his custody. If he is released and you let me walk out of here freely, I’ll let her go. Her pretty little face will stay intact,” Lane said, casually gesturing to you with the gun. “I assume this is a deal you are very interested in?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Lane smiled devilishly. “Both of you can escape this unscathed, Mr. Walker. All you have to do is make a call to Ethan Hunt and let me speak with him. If your lives are not something he is willing to risk, then he will do as I ask.”

You closed your eyes at Lane’s demand. Ethan releasing an ally of Lane’s would only put the world much more at risk. The answer to this problem was clear. Your life was a small price to pay for the safety of, potentially, thousands or more. But by the way August looked at you, you knew his decision had already been made.

“Fine.” August stood, then pulled a phone from his back pocket. “Hunt’s number is programmed into the phone. He will answer if he thinks it’s me. I give you the phone, you give me Y/N.”

Lane smirked then pulled you up with him by the arm. You were led the few yards to August and when you were right in front of him, Lane released you but returned the gun to the back of your head. “Phone,” He insisted, his hand out for it.

When August slapped it into Lane’s hand, Lane pressed some buttons and held it up to his ear. August held your nervous stare for five brutally long, painful seconds until Lane’s voice broke the silence.

“Hello, Ethan. I would like to make a deal with you,” He started as he shoved you into August’s arms.

August held tight as he released a breath, his heart pounding vigorously in your ear.

“August,” You whispered. “What did you just do?”

He leaned down and touched his forehead to yours while his hands cupped your cheeks. “I had to,” He whispered back. “I’m sorry.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You waited in the next room, pacing and gnawing at your thumbnail, while August went to speak with Ethan about the events of the day before. When the doorknob turned and August walked through, you rushed to him.

“Well? What did he say?”

August took a deep breath, then said “He understands why I didn’t hesitate to save you. He agreed that keeping Lane’s associate was not worth risking your life.”

Your eyebrows pinched together. “That’s all he said?”

“That’s all that matters,” He deadpanned. “The rest will be handled, but I do not want you worrying about that.”

You sighed heavily and turned away, replaying the day before when August saved you over in your mind. You couldn’t count how many times the memory had made its way into your brain in the last twenty-four hours. “This could all have been avoided if—”

“Do not say it!”

You spun around fast at his deeply aggravated tone. “August—”

“Do not tell me that I should have let you die!” He yelled as he came closer.

“For the sake of thousands of lives? If anyone died now because of this, I would feel so guilty.”

“Stop.”

“August…”

“Stop!” He shouted, grabbing the sides of your shoulders and shaking you slightly. “What, did you want to die? Did you want me to not even hesitate and just let Lane kill you?!”

“No, of course not, but--”

“Then what the hell are you trying to do to me?” August’s nostrils flared for a moment before he managed to take a breath and calm himself down. He ran a hand through his hair, then placed both on his hips. “Look, you and I have been dancing around this thing between us for months,” He said, “But I can’t keep acting like I don’t love you, and you can’t expect me to do something like this as if I don’t even care. I am not willing to sacrifice you…for anything.”

Your heart clenched at the pained expression on his face. Your body moved closer to his and you placed a hand on his chest, making sure he met your eyes. He took the chance to wrap his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder, letting out a puff that warmed your skin. “I understand. If it meant saving you though, I would do anything, even sacrifice myself.”

August’s head shot up and he frowned. “Well don’t!”                                            

“August,” You smiled and lifted your lips to meet his for a few seconds but pulled back just as he started to respond. “I love you too. I don’t want anything to happen to you either.” You cupped his face in your hands and ran your thumbs over the scruff of his jaw. “But I still can’t help feeling like something might happen to others, and if it did, it would be all my fault.”

“No. If anything, it would be mine. I left you alone and it made you vulnerable,” He said as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Hunt and I are going to fix this. I promise.”

“…Does that mean you’re leaving?”

He nodded his head, a heartbreaking expression on his face. “Unfortunately.”

“How long?”

“A month, probably. We already have leads on where they are going. Shouldn’t be all that difficult to find them.”

Your eyes dropped to your shoes. “Oh.”

“Hey. It’s OK.” August tucked a finger under your chin and lifted. “Think you could wait for me?”

You chuckled lightly. “For a month? Yea, I think I could handle that.”

He grinned in the way he does that makes your heart melt and has your legs wobbling. “Good,” He whispered, then he placed his lips on yours, tightened his arms around your waist, and lifted you off the ground.

#henry cavill #august walker #henry cavill fic #august walker fic #henry cavill fanfic #august walker fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #august walker imagine #henry cavill x reader #august walker x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fluff #august walker smut #august walker fluff #mission impossible fic #mission impossible fanfic #mission impossible fanfiction #mission impossible oneshot #mission impossible imagine #mission impossible #mission impossible fallout

[writersrealmbts]

Joining His Pack: Bonding (Final)

Description: Sanctuary Series: Life goes on for you and Namjoon, no matter the circumstances.

Posted: 05/22/2020

Tags:  Hybrid Namjoon, Wolf Hybrid Namjoon, Wolf Hybrid Reader

Angst/Fluff: 3,656 words

A/N: First day of Fic Dump! Anybody surviving the music video? Because I’m hanging in there but I have about a thousand ideas for Yoongi stories now. Haven’t listened to the full thing yet, but I will after I post this. 

Darkness and the damp smell of rain is what woke you up.

You groaned and rolled onto your feet, shivering at the cold of the floor and shuffling toward where the damp smell was coming from while still trying to open your eyes and getting your wobbly legs to comply.

You grumbled when a cool breeze met your skin, making you shiver again as chills went up your spine.

Then a blanket was draped around your shoulders. “The door broke,” Namjoon whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

You sighed and leaned back onto him. “Guess that moved up on our list of things to fix and replace.”

He nodded. “Just a little. Sort of a pretty morning, though.”

You finally managed to peel your eyes open, looking out over the back yard as the rain poured down across your yard—the flowers from your garden bending but staying upright. Predawn light giving the world a hazy look that was actually quite soothing.

“Our gardens will be happy, we were supposed to water them yesterday,” He commented further, head resting on yours.

You yawned, turning and hugging onto him instead. “Why’s it so cold?”

“Because you’re naked, babe,” He chuckled.

You huffed indignantly. “And why am I naked?”

“Because we mated,” He whispered in your ear, fingers grazing over the ultra-sensitive spot where he had marked you.

You shuddered, keening at his touch and pressing closer.

He chucked again. “Come on, back to bed with you. I’ll be there as soon as I prop the door back in the frame. I’m surprised you can walk.”

“Barely, my legs are still wobbly. What happened to the nest?”

“I cannibalized it to make sure you stayed warm.” He guided you back to bed, holding you upright until you could collapse onto it, then covering you up carefully to make sure you wouldn’t get cold.

“Where are you going?” You asked indignantly.

He smiled. “Door? Me, propping it in the frame to keep the house warmer?”

“Oh,” You mumbled, grabbing and pulling the blankets. “Hurry.”

He laughed softly, his “you’re too adorable and I’m dying” laugh which you loved so immensely. He was too adorable for words. He could be all suave and cool but all you had to do was flirt a little and suddenly he turned into your tall, clumsy, adorkable sweetheart who was so cutely shy that sometimes you felt the need to just shower him in affection until he was all dimples and laughter.

Maybe you should have put the door back in place.

You pushed yourself up. “Namjoon, be careful!”

Your warning came a little late, a crashing noise sounding through the house as the words “be careful” left your mouth.

You winced. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just dropped the door. I’ll be there in a second,” He answered, only a slight edge of panic in his tone.

You leaned out of the bed and pulled the basket of extra blankets closer to you. “Is the door okay?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. “Sort of?”

You slipped out of bed again, stumbling out to look. “Oh my.”

He cringed. “What should I do?”

You examined the situation. “Call Jin or Micheal.”

He nodded, following you back into the bedroom and ushering you into bed, making sure you were tucked in while he went to call one of the men for help with the situation.

You were in a sort of doze when he crawled into bed again, arms wrapping around you and hands chilled.

“You asleep?” He asked in a whisper.

“Mmm, not quite.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“We’re going to last the ages, aren’t we?”

“We are,” You replied happily, wiggling closer. “We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

“Still need to work on the house,” He said softly.

“True, but as long as we’re both in one piece everything else is just details,” You told him, shrugging slightly and tilting your head so he could rub his nose along your neck.

“Might have bitten too hard, babe,” He whispered, sounding concerned as he nudged your mark, causing you to hiss slightly.

You hummed, the hum turning to a moan as he flicked his tongue over the mark. “The door?”

“Yoongi is coming over, he picked up Micheal’s phone. Apparently Timothy was running a really high fever again.”

“Poor pup,” You whispered. “Human hospitals suck. They should go to the Sanctuary.”

“I think they are.”

“Wait, does that mean we should be getting dressed?”

“We’ve still got time. He was feeding Eunyeong breakfast and he said he needed to get her dressed after that. So, at least half an hour.”

You nodded. “Tae coming too?”

“If he’s already awake, probably. If not, then no.”

You sighed. “Better let me up, honey.”

He grumbled slightly, but placed another kiss on your shoulder before letting you go. “You start your new job next week, right?”

“Yes,” You answered, letting the blankets slip from your body and walking to the closet to pick your outfit. You didn’t have to go anywhere (you weren’t allowed to go anywhere) but you didn’t want to look like a bum when other members of the pack arrived. Not to mention it was great to tease Namjoon in the mornings.

“You’re still wobbling,” Namjoon said after a moment.

“You’re still staring,” You retorted playfully, tail swishing in happiness as you pulled out your desired clothes. You really did need to get dressed, you were starting to get goosebumps.

“You want your black bra?”

“Please.”

“Preference on—”

“Whichever you grab first,” You answered, catching the bra he tossed you. “Can you go get the muffin mixes from the top cabinet?

“Yeah, when did you want to reorganize the kitchen?”

“Possibly today.” You threw the sweater on and then sat down to put on socks. “Depends on what happens after your brothers get here.”

“Well, Tae usually enjoys spending time here, and we haven’t seen them much since they came down, so Yoongi will probably end up asleep on our couch and you’ll get to cuddle the kitten.”

You grinned, following into the kitchen and pulling out the mixing bowl to make the muffins. “Sounds like a perfect lazy day.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then hopped onto an empty counter while you mixed the muffin mix and poured it into the muffin tin liners. “Yeah, that mark looks pretty bad. Sorry, baby.”

You shrugged. “Only hurts when you press on it, and even then it’s one of those pains that feels somewhat pleasurable.”

“Weird omega,” He whispered teasingly.

“Bashful alpha,” You retorted, closing the oven door and going over to him, leaning against his legs.

He leaned down and kissed you, slowly, a little lethargic.

Both of you jumped as the make-shift blockade for the doorway fell in.

You sighed. “Wouldn’t be so bad if the wind wasn’t coming from that direction, and if it didn’t have rain with it.”

He nodded. “They should be here soon and—”

The doorbell rang before he could finish.

You moved so he could go answer the door, not trusting your legs to get you that far and instead taking his spot on the counter.

Taehyung came in, obviously following his nose, the toddling following while holding onto his tail and looking fairly grumpy herself.

You grinned. “Morning!”

Taehyung grunted, and leaned against the counter next to you.

The kitten grabbed onto your feet.

You reached down and picked her up, setting her on your lap to cuddle her. “That’s quite the grumpy face, little one.”

“She didn’t get back to sleep after Micheal and Becca took Timothy to the doctors, and we gave her some medicine to help boost her immune system in case its contagious,” Yoongi explained, looking his usual level of tired, but staring at the door. “Namjoon…how?”

Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “Um…I”m not sure?”

You smiled as they went to inspect, resting your hand on Tae’s head. “I’ve got some banana nut muffins in the oven.”

“I love you. Namjoon, I love her!”

“She’s mine, Tae, you can only love her platonically.”

“Then I love her platonically.”

You giggled at the exchange. “They’ll be ready in a couple minutes.”

He finally moved, sitting on the counter across from you, then his eyes widened. “What did Joonie-hyung do to your neck?”

You shrugged a little. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

He looked at you like you’d grown a third head.

You blinked. “It’s a mating mark, Taehyung.”

He turned bright red and looked away. “I forgot canines did that.”

“Yup.” You stroked the soft kitten ears. “Eunyeong’s fur is still baby-soft. I’m so jealous.”

“Right?!” He perked up again. “Yoongi-hyung got her some special fur shampoo that’s amazing! Costs way too much for me, but you know how he is with her.”

“He spoils in her ways that won’t spoil her personality, it is beyond adorable.” You pressed a cute kiss to her forehead.

Euny blinked up at you sleepily, huffing grumpily.

The timer went off and Taehyung pulled the muffins out for you, taking one and starting to dig into it.

Euny made a sound and opened her mouth like a little chick.

Taehyung shook his head. “Words, honey.”

“Pleeeeease?” She said, sweetly.

He grinned and got a bowl and put a muffin in it. “Little bites, baby.”

“Okay,” She said, still grumpy but holding the bowl and picking off bites from the muffin. She curled against you as she ate, tail flicking.

“So, you guys going to have kids?”

“Eventually, but I think we want to get a bit more done on this place, and spend a little bit of quiet time together before then. I mean, things are just settling down from the trials, and I’m off house-arrest at the end of the week, and I start my new job after that.” You shrugged. “We both agreed that we wanted to wait a while before having pups. Besides, shouldn’t you be pestering Jimin about kits?”

“Eh, he’s been so stressed between last years incident and moving and the wedding that I figure it’s a miracle he’s in one piece. Maybe next year.”

“You going to join Hoseok in the master-nanny business?”

“I wish. First we’d have to move back home. Besides, Hoseokie-hyung is probably going to be a teacher at the Sanctuary school at some point.” Taehyung’s tail playfully flicked open cabinets to inspect.

“Yoongi set a time frame for your visit?”

He shook his head.

“Want to help me reorganize the kitchen?”

He grinned and nodded.

Namjoon eventually got shooed away from helping when Yoongi almost had a replacement door dropped on his head, and he helped you and Tae—meaning the boys did the work while you supervised and held Euny who was giggling a little when her Uncles made faces at you, and subsequently at her.

When Yoongi was done, he joined you sitting on the counter and eating a muffin and watching the boys do your work for you.

But all of you got quiet when Yoongi got a call from Micheal.

Yoongi was pretty quiet, just replying to him. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll bring Euny in.” He rubbed his forehead looking worried. “Yeah. Okay, thanks.”

You watched him for a moment while he hung up.

“Well?” Tae asked when Yoongi had been quiet for too long. Frozen.

“Timmy has pneumonia,” Yoongi finally said. “They want to test Euny just to be safe.”

Taehyung drooped. “That’s terrible.”

Yoongi nodded. “Yeah. Alright. I can either leave you here or drop you off back home.”

Taehyung looked at Namjoon.

He shrugged. “Pretty sure we were planning on you staying here all day anyway. Whatever you want, Taehyung.”

“I’ll stay here, hyung. It’d be boring being at home with no one around.”

You kissed the kitten’s head, wondering if she did feel a little warm, before handing her over to Yoongi.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, hyungie. If she does have it, then we know before it’s really set in and we can treat it accordingly.” Taehyung hugged Yoongi, then kissed Euny on the cheek. “I’d go with you—”

“No!” Yoongi and Namjoon shouted simultaneous.

“No, that’s okay, you stay far away from the doctors office,” Yoongi continued.

You giggled, hopping off the counter and falling into Namjoons arms when your legs didn’t work. “Good luck at the office.”

Yoongi glanced you over. “Namjoon, try not to put her back in the hospital.” He went toward the door.

You managed to get your footing again, but stayed in Namjoon’s arms.

Taehyung stretched after hearing the front door close. “So, what else needs to be done?”

“The things we don’t use a lot need to be put in the highest cabinets. But I have to unpack those still, so we’re pretty much done today. Movie time?”

“Movie time!” Taehyung agreed excitedly.

“I’ll make the popcorn.” You wobbled over to the counter and pulled out the popcorn.

“Really, though, Namjoon-hyung, maybe go easy on her next time.”

You laughed as Namjoon gave a flustered response, throwing the popcorn into the microwave. “For the record, I encouraged him to. Nothing like a good romp. And the ones that leave you wobbly the next day are the best.” You kissed Namjoon on the lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and watching him turn red.

“N-noona….” Taehyung objected, completely flustered. “I’m still here.”

“Hmm, true. Alright, I can stand Joonie. You guys go pick a movie.” You smoothed Namjoon’s shirt and turned your attention back to snacks because snacks were very important.

Snacks were very important.

———

“Thank you! Have a great day,” You told the customer, handing over their bag of sweets before going to replenish the cinnamon-sugar banana chips. They were popular with several hybrid species and with the remembrance day of the restriction of hybrids coming up, the shop had been fairly busy. It had become a custom to have a sort of communal meal, everyone bringing something to the table as a bunch of hybrids got together. Last year you’d spent it with a group of singles at a party hosted by some of the security staff.

Anyway, “Otter Perfection Sweets” had a steady stream of customers that were there to prepare for guests or being a guest. And since there was a wide selection of specialty sweets that were aimed toward hybrids, a large portion of your customers were either hybrids, or those buying for hybrids. But it was definitely different from your other job.

One, your boss was way better. She was sensible, yet fun, and very flexible about your schedule. She was very family oriented and so friendly that before you knew it she had memorized all of the names of your pack members and how they were related to your mate, and would frequently follow up on things that she heard about.

Not that you didn’t also know way more about her family than you expected to.

You’d been working there for a few weeks now, and already had dinner with her family—all of which, from her grandparents, siblings, and parents, lived in one house. Except her. She lived above the shop because,

“My sister is moving back in with them with her man and her eight pups. I love them to bits, but I also love having a full night’s rest. Besides, they’re going to come here all the time anyway.”

And you didn’t blame her one bit for moving out. Because her family did drop in all the time and depending on who it was it could get very lively in the small shop.

You helped a couple more customers, happy to see product being sold. You liked her. You liked her products. You liked this job.

“Y/n, can you refill the ice-cream freezer?”

“Yup,” You called back, hurrying to the back to get the tray of cartons out of the freezer and then bring it out.

You were so focused on straightening the shelf after filling it that you didn’t hear the person sneaking in until they spoke from directly behind you.

“You know, I’ve been in here a couple times, but you’re the most delicious looking thing I think I’ve seen so far.”

You flinched in surprise, turning to smack him down.

Namjoon grinned at you. “You were about to tell me off, weren’t you?”

Deja vu.

“Hi,” You whispered, grinning.

He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “Hi. Why are you whispering?”

“Because I wanted two more seconds with you and if I said it louder she’d come out to say hello.” You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Oh, she already saw me. Headed into the back so I could surprise you,” He replied at a normal volume. “Ready to go, baby?”

“Just need to do a few more things and clock out. While you’re waiting you should pick out those treats. Some for Jungkook since he’s spending his first summer away from home, some for Yoongi, Tae, and Eunyeong, and then the watermelon chips for the triplets birthday next week.”

“Aren’t they all coming for the triplets’ birthday?” Namjoon asked, frowning in thought.

“Yoongi has to work, Tae said he might come but he also found out that the art gala he’s supposed to go to is the night after and you know the trip takes several hours. And Jungkook got that job, so he doesn’t know if he’s going to be there or not. Either way, if we send the package tomorrow he should get it by the next day and the sentiment is still the same no matter when he gets it. Spit spot.” You waved him off and went to check out a customer.

Your boss came out to refill the truffle tray. “I give you December of next year before the two of you have pups, and that’s being pessimistic.”

You just laughed and closed out your drawer, taking it back to the office and locking it while bringing out her drawer. “I give you to August of next year before you have a serious relationship. And that’s being pessimistic.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure, you just go find me someone who likes kids and knows how to balance work and fun and I’ll help you win that bet.”

“Don’t tempt me,” You replied in a sing-song voice and then skipped toward Namjoon. “No, baby, not the watermelon leather. The watermelon chips.”

“What’s the difference?” He looked confused as you changed out the bags.

“Texture.” You checked what else he had gotten, then led him up to the counter. “Anyway, how was work?”

“Eh, it was work. I’m not a fan of our current project, but what can you do? But I’m definitely ready to be home,” He answered, kissing your cheek. He slipped his arm around your waist, just handing you his wallet so you could take care of paying instead. He was breathing in your scent, trying to detox from a stressful day.

You smiled up at him, then took the bag of sweets, said goodnight to your boss and led the way out of the shop. “Last time we left my work together was the second time we’d met.”

He blinked a couple times and then smiled a dimple smile. “Wow. That was so long ago…and yet also a really short time ago.”

“We haven’t even been together a year,” You said, wrapping your arms around his waist as you walked.

“And what a year it’s been,” He said, huffing a laugh as he did. “But I knew when I smelled you that day…when you flirted so shamelessly with me, that you were the one for me. There was no one else.”

“I was shameless, wasn’t I!” You puffed up proudly. “I should get back to being shameless.”

“Only with me, baby,” He whispered smoothly. “Speaking of shameless….”

“When we get home you don’t want to wear clothes for the rest of the night?”

“Um…not what I was going to say…but I can roll with that as long as we’re in our room. Being active.”

“Deal, but I have to finish the care packages first. Then we can have fun.”

“Right. Care packages.” He got the car door for you. “Do I get one for work? And not being with you?”

“Hmm, you get to come home to your care package every day,” You reasoned, kissing him above the door and then climbing into the seat.

“What if that’s not enough to sustain me,” He asked, still holding the door open.

You hummed, pretending to think. “Then I suppose I better start working harder.”

He grinned and closed the door.

You watched him as he waited for a few cars to pass by so he could get to his side of the vehicle without getting hurt. He was wearing a suit, and loosening the tie in such an attractive manner that you wished the drive home was shorter.

Namjoon got in, adjusting his seat again and the mirrors.

So suave. So enchanting and romantic. The perfect, attractive man that you’d see as the male lead in a movie.

“How did I get such a perfect partner?” You asked softly.

He glanced at you, suddenly shy and bashful. “How did I get a lovely little wolf to join my pack as my mate?”

You thought about it. “Well, if I remember correctly, you were chasing after a pup. Something I hope to see again someday.”

He nodded, taking your hand. “Eventually, you will.”

“When we’re ready.”

“Exactly. Whenever we’re ready,” He agreed, looking at you for a moment before turning his gaze back to the road.

You settled into the seat, gazing at the road ahead, excitement bursting in your heart.

——

Previous Part.   

Masterlist.  Series Masterpost.

Taglist: @alex--awesome--22​  @missmoxxiesworld​ @bryvada​  @knjhe​  @i-dont-even-know-fck​  @ephemeral-mindset​ @young-yellkie​

#kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon #rm #hybrid!au #hybrid!namjoon #wolf!namjoon #wolf hybrid!namjoon #werewolf!au #hybrid!bts #hybrid!taehyung #hybrid!yoongi #wolf!reader #werewolf!namjoon #bts #bts fic #bts rm #bts fanfic #sanctuary series #the sanctuary series hybrid au #the sanctuary series #joininghispack fic

[essays-for-breakfast]

Together, Always

Kiane Week Day Six: Promise

Everywhere the eye turned, a colorful bouquet of flowers decorated the forest. Trees seemed to bow under the load of thousands of roses, dandelions, and daisies. Daisies in particular, in garlands, stacked in bunches, or blooming between the grass blades. An uninformed guest might believe chance had let the flowers sprout from the earth for this special day, but Diane knew better. Creating flowers from thin air was an easy feat for the Fairy King.

With a little more time on her hands, she would have wandered through the flower garden for an hour or two, but for now, she had to make due with the view from high up on the Great Tree, the heart of the Fairy King’s Forest.

Diane stepped away from the window carved into the bark, brushed the hem of her dress back into place, and reminded herself that today had finally come. The realization didn’t want to settle in. Every other moment, she looked over her shoulder in expectation to find the Demon King or Cath Palug there. But the dream refused to dissolve. No one played tricks on her eyes or mind. The white silk and velvet hugged her fingertips, entirely real.

Today had finally come.

“How do I look?” Diane asked and turned on her heels. The elegant slippers left the faintest discomfort on her toes. Unsurprising after a life of worn-out boots.

Matrona placed her hands on Diane’s shoulders and fixated her gaze. “Wonderful. I’m so proud of you. And I’m sure your parents would be too if they were here. Are you excited?”

“Are you kidding? I can’t feel my knees anymore. I’ve waited for this day for a solid two centuries.”

Matrona laughed. “I can’t say I know how you feel, but you’ve looked more composed when fighting a horde of Demons. Relax. You’ve earned this.”

“I’m not sure this a good idea.” Diane’s eyes darted back towards the window. The sun neared its midday peak. So soon… “Scratch that, it’s a terrible idea. How many guests have we invited? It must be the entirety of Britannia at this point, and each and every single one of them will stare at me. We should have held the ceremony in private, just like Ban and Elaine plan to do. Why did I agree to this? Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Diane, look at me.” Diane released an uneven breath and then looked at her former mentor and the closest person she had to a parent. “The only reason these people will stare at you is because you look wonderful in this dress. You want to unite the Giant and Fairy Clan, don’t you?” Diane nodded. “Then give our people a symbol to hold onto and remind them that a bond between two different clans works. That it really works.”

“But won’t our people be appalled when I’m so small? Most of them have never seen me shrink to human size, not to mention the fact that none of them know what a marriage even is.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. We went over this a thousand times. Our people respect you for what you have achieved, not for your size. And should anyone do so much as cough at you the wrong way, well, I haven’t forgotten how to throw a solid right-hander, human size or not.”

“Thank you, Matrona. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“Stop talking nonsense, you would lead these blockheads just as well without me. This wedding tradition humans have might be a little strange and overblown if you ask me. But after a war, a little excess of splendor and happiness is just what all of us need. Ready?”

Diane swallowed. Sweat ran down her neck, and she tucked a loose strand back behind her ear.

“No,” she said. But she straightened her back despite the lump in her throat and gave Matrona her arm. The firm grip offered her something to focus on other than her racing heartbeat.

Half-leaned against Matrona, Diane managed the first steps on the moss-covered ground. If only she hadn’t agreed to hold the ceremony on top of the Great Tree. The mighty boughs formed a clearing large enough to hold five hundred people, sure, but the familiar music of the earth seemed awfully far away. What if Diane stumbled? What if she fell from the tree and broke her neck?

No time to think about all the horror scenarios that were throwing images around in her head, there the curtain of magenta-colored leaves waited for her. Matrona pushed the vines aside, and the glimmer of daylight replaced the dimness from inside the tree.

Rows upon rows of people had gathered between the massive boughs, a crowd of Giant heads and shimmering Fairy wings in green, yellow, and milk-colored shades. Course leather and finest silk hugged as members of the Giant and Fairy Clan stood or hovered next to each other, and in some cases on the shoulders of the other. Amidst the colorful parade, the handful of humans near the front almost disappeared. Unlike with their traditional weddings, no one had set up chairs or benches. And apart from an aisle aligned with daisies, the top of the Great Tree could not have fit another person. The tree’s magenta-colored leaves created a ceiling, grander than any human hall, and bathed the porcelain faces of Fairies in pink hues. Six hundred pairs of eyes stared at Diane.

But all the people blurred and vanished the moment she caught sight of King. He floated in front of an archway of ivy and dog roses, dressed in the white suit he had sown and re-sown to perfection over the past week. With the four ornate Fairy wings and the tidy locks in the color of fall leaves, he looked too good to be true. The biggest smile adorned his face when he and Diane locked eyes.

Only Matrona’s grip around her hand prevented Diane from storming forward and throwing her arms around him. The Great Tree’s scent of ever-lasting spring tingled her nostrils, enough to make her tipsy. A good thing she had declined the bottle of ale Meliodas had offered her this morning. To calm the nerves, he had said. Ha! Such methods might work for Ban, but Diane was already losing faith in her feet without the added punch of alcohol.

She straightened and listened to the heartbeat of the earth, several hundred yards below. Beat, pause, beat. She had practiced this part of the ceremony with Elizabeth countless times. Just one foot in front of the other. Sixty paces, and then she could hold his hand and never let go again.

The quivering in Diane’s legs ebbed as she walked down the aisle and decreased the distance between her and King. And although her toes throbbed in her slippers, she managed the way without a stumble. Meliodas and Ban grinned at her from King’s right side. Both looked surprisingly regal in their matching capes; indigo for Liones and crimson for Benwick. Ban had even found a shirt to cover his chest, a rare sight on the best of days. On the other side of the altar, Elizabeth and Elaine had taken position as Diane’s bridesmaids.

And then, finally, Diane reached King’s side. Matrona offered him Diane’s arm and sat down in the first row between Gerheade and Zalpa.

King squeezed Diane’s hand. “You are beautiful.”

His gentle fingers felt so natural when intertwined with hers. As if they always belonged there. “You’re one to talk.”

They both turned towards Gowther, who regarded their hushed exchange with a smile. King and Diane had appointed him as their wedding guide – or priest as humans called them – the instance Elizabeth had discussed this role with them. No one fit this task better. With a nod, King and Diane signaled Gowther to begin.

“We have gathered here for both an historical event and a deeply personal affair,” he began. Since he had memorized around three dozen texts regarding human marriages in the past week, he didn’t need a book to regurgitate passages from. “Never before in the history of Britannia have the Giant and Fairy Clan forged a bond of the kind these two people in front of you have knitted. Mistrust has always stood between the five clans, as historians tell us. Mistrust will always stand between different clans, they argue. Let us prove these stories wrong. Today, we celebrate the union of the Giant and Fairy Clan, a sense of respect and comradery forged in the fires of the Holy War. Today, we celebrate the union of their leaders, who have ensured the survival of their people through the battles they fought as members of the Seven Deadly Sins. Today, we celebrate the union of two people who have overcome all odds and whose love endured centuries of separation and hardship. Many of us have watched them a portion of their way towards each other. And now they have asked us to be their witnesses as they dare to make the most important step. The promises they exchange today will forever resonate within all our hearts. Diane, Queen of the Giants, will you begin?”

Diane collected her missing confidence in Gowther’s encouraging look. And when she turned towards King, her King, her one and only love, the words tumbled out of her mouth all on their own.

“Even when I had nothing, I had you,” she said. “You were my friend in times of isolation, my light in the dark, my teacher and protector. It’s only through you that I became the person I am today. You’re the sole reason I’m still here. Back when we were kids, I never told you how I felt, but I want you to know this: King, I love you. I love you so much that I feel like half of me is missing every time you aren’t near. Whatever happens, I promise to always stay by your side and support you in any way I can. No gods or armies or loss of memory will stop me. From this day on, I’m yours. The same as I have been for all these years. Will you be mine?”

Tears shimmered in King’s eyes when he nodded. “I promise.”

“Then,” Gowther said, “Harlequin, King of the Fairies, what do you offer in return?”

“Everything I have and everything I am. Diane, I’ve always loved you, and to have met you all these years ago is the most wonderful gift of my life. You gave me shelter when I had nowhere to turn, you showed me a warmth and a kindness I had never seen before. It’s only thanks to you that I learned to forgive and not judge others by their looks or their past allegiances. Nothing can ever compensate the happiness bursting my heart every time I’m near you. I’ve made mistakes, I’ve let you down, and I have taken your memories from you. But if you will give me another chance, I promise you will always have a home to return to and a shoulder to lean on and a hand to hold yours. No matter what the future brings, I’m yours. From now until my final breath and long after that. Will you be mine?”

Diane’s heart raced in her ribcage, and through their interlaced fingers, she felt King’s heartbeat in sync with her own. “I promise.”

While they battled their tears and the desire to fling their arms around one another, Gowther continued. He needed to adjust his glasses twice before the calm returned to his voice, and even then, joy swung with each of his words. “As symbol of your union and your undying bond, you will now exchange the crowns of your clans. From this day forward, you will lead your people as one and begin an era of peace and understanding.”

On cue, Ban and Elizabeth stepped forward, each with a velvet cushion in hand. With shaky fingers, Diane took the circlet of unrefined copper from Elizabeth. A multitude of jewels adorned the crown, rubies, garnets, and other stones found deep within the earth. Elizabeth placed a supportive hand on Diane’s shoulder before she returned to Elaine.

Ban likewise handed King a flower crown with a hundred blooms in all colors of the rainbow. And although Ban saved himself a snarky comment, the nudge of his elbow hit the mark. Freed from his stupor, King placed the flower crown upon Diane’s head. Then Diane tiptoed to return the favor.

One of her slippers escaped her foot, but she barely noticed.

“You may now—”

The rest of Gowther’s word remained unheard because Diane threw her arms around King’s neck, and he bowed forward to seal her lips with a kiss. Their first kiss as a married couple, the taste of raspberries and gold Osmanthus and an unparalleled joy.

Cheers erupted from the crowd, applause from the hands of human, Giant, Fairy, Demon, and Goddess. A shower of magenta-colored leaves rained down on them. Their wedding bells took on the form of the wind and the beat of the earth, a most marvelous chime Diane only heard once in her life while she held King, and he held her.

She stroked his hair while deepening the kiss.

Today had finally come.

#kianeweek #kianeweek2020 #nnt #nanatsu no taizai #nnt fanfiction #my writing #king #diane #king x diane #kiane wedding #my take on the wedding #has anyone actually written this scene before? #or is everyone waiting for Nakaba to show it? #why are my paragraphs so long?! #why does everyone monologue so much?!

[boxdyed]

More Concept Playlists

+ You walk out of your shitty roadside motel room that you’ve been staying in since you ran away from home. It hasn’t been cleaned since the 50s but at least no one will find you out here, in the middle of the desert. You head towards the ice machine, but someone is already there. It’s the most popular girl in school, who you’ve had a crush on since 6th grade. She’s run away too.

+ You and your fed-up punk friends attempt to summon a demon at your all girls catholic boarding school, determined to wreck some wacky havoc on the oppressive staff. But the fun doesn't last long as you realize you have unleashed something far more sinister. Something that doesn't slam doors or break windows but drips deep into your psyche and reveals the meaning of pure evil.

+ The year is 1987, You’re part of a ragtag band of misfits that have been friends since childhood. All of you are gay, but no one has admitted it yet so rifts are forming in the gang. One summer morning you roller skate over to your best friend, the only other girl in the groups house to tell her you’re in love with her. Will it tear group apart once and for all or bring you back together?

+ You're 17 and in love with your manic pixie dream girl of a best friend. It's a wednesday night in early june and you can't sleep because all you can think about is her stupid perfect crooked smile and just when you think you can't stand it anymore you hear a tapping at your window. You open it and there she is, with that smile. She asks you if you want to go on an adventure. You've never wanted anything more.  

+ July is the season of rabid dogs. There's something about the constantness of the heat that drives spikes into the head. This year there's a new plague: the teenage girls. They are sick. The are restless. They are hungry. Their bare feet burn on the hot concrete but they won't stop until they have tasted the blood of every abusive man in town.

+  You and your closest friends sit on the roof of your suburban house watching the sunset. The crisp, nearly-autumn breeze blows against your oversized hoodie while you sip cheap, lukewarm beer from a paper bag. No one says anything, no one has to.

+ It’s 1:30 am and you’re driving out of the city with your girlfriend asleep in the passenger seat. there are lights glowing on the highway and in the city behind you but it feels like it's just the two of you, and you wish it could last forever

+ The year is 1975. The Russians went ahead and nuked us and well, just about everyone died. But don't worry! There were a few survivors. You and your gang find yourselves with the entirety of west Hollywood all to yourselves and nothing keeping you from the thousands of mansions and all the goodies they might hold

+ You’re on the road with a crappy RV you bought somewhere sketchy with your best friend and her dog on the trip of a lifetime trying to make it as a bluegrass singer. You fall in love over crumpled maps, roadside lemonade, campfire sing alongs, and grimy dive bars where you pay for meals by washing dishes.

+ You walk into your room, satin gown flowing in your wake,You dramatically collapse into a dark velvet chair as if the cameras are rolling. You put on a record and pour your fourth glass of red wine. Your fifth husband has mysteriously died, good thing he left everything to you in the will.

+ You’re at a Halloween party in the basement of a seedy punk club, so wasted you can’t see straight. The ground starts shaking. More than it was before, are you imagining it? No. The bands screaming has gone from angry to terrified. The apocalypse is happening right now.

+ You stand in front of the house at the edge of town. The house with boarded up windows. The house with broken glass in the yard instead of flowers, like everyone else in your small misty mountain town. The house no one talks about. The house you only go when you have nowhere else to go. You have someone to find in there, someone you need to bring home.

+ Is there any place better to dissociate than a roller rink?

+ Everything is perfect here. It's a nice cabin, tucked away in the depths of the Ozarks. The lake is right out back so she can swim whenever she wants. Swimming makes her happy. And all of this is to make her happy. This morning you wake up early to watch the sun rise over the water. It's a perfect morning for a perfect place, golden light seeping through everything. Highlighting orange starting to creep into the leaves. Your breath catches in your throat. It’s almost October. Yes, this place is perfect. But it's time to go home.

+ You’re a music producer who died overdosing on cocaine at a club in the 70s. You awaken in the exact spot you died in the year 2073. You’re hungry, thirsty, and hornier than you’ve ever been. But most importantly, you look as fly as you always have and you’re surrounded by beautiful women.

+ She’s an urban witch. A drugstore sorceress, mixing potions of Xanax and gasoline. Selling them on a street corner in the east village. No one knows her name, few know her face, But they say you’ll know her when you see her. You approach her on a chilled November night and offer a pack of cigarettes for a love potion. Hands shaking with anxiety and cold. She looks you in the eye and tells you you don’t need love potion. She’ll give you everything you want for free.

+ My boyfriend Oliver. I know this isn't a concept but he's super cute and i love him so let me live......DM me if you wanna see pics

+ You're driving through the depths of the Appalachian mountains on a foggy night. You see a dark figure with glowing eyes up ahead at the edge of your headlights and your heart stops beating. No. It can't be him…. He wasn't supposed to be able to find you all the way up here I. You get closer and your shoulders relax, It's just an old man. He smiles when you pass, his milky eyes reflecting back at you like stars. probably just a friendly local out for a late night stroll. You're safe. It's fine. Only 10 miles to go. Your engine dies the moment you realize that human eyes dont glow.

+ You’re a nerd, a nobody, the kid who sits by herself at lunch. The kid who never talks and never gets noticed by anyone. Yet here you are, dressed in your big sisters clothes, standing in the coolest girl in schools living room while a party rages around you. Tonight you’re going to be cool. Tonight you’re going to be the life of the party. Tonight she’s finally going to realize you exist. This is either the bravest thing you’ve ever done or the stupidest.

+ You’ve been climbing the mountain for three days and three nights. Out of food, out of water, and utterly, painfully alone. Just when you think you can walk no farther, you hear a waterfall in the distance. With your remaining ounce of strength you launch yourself the final few yards. You collapse to your knees and peer into the clear, cool water. But Instead of seeing your face your entire life is reflected back at you.

#concept playlist #TA DA! #I put all the ones from the last post on here too #because i updated them #so make sure you check those out too #im super proud of these! #pls reblog #they all slap #sapphic #wlw #lesbian #playlists #mixtape #jams #music

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Happy Birthday to @vkelleyart ! This is a gift fic for you based on the prompt for a character who is “unable to open their eyes for a few moments after a kiss” (I didn’t forget you liked that one!)

So here is a day in the life with SImon and Baz. Hope you enjoy it and enjoy your day!

Read at Ao3

In Between Days

Baz

It’s the fourth week in a row I’ve invited myself to the Bunces’ home. I can’t spend my weekends alone at Watford when I know Simon is just a few hours’ drive away.

It’s not like we don’t talk on mobile. Well, I talk. Simon mostly gives me monosyllabic answers and drawn out silences. But I get to hear the sound of his breathing and that calms me. I know it calms him too. I talk to him until he falls asleep most nights, until I can hear his breath puff in and out through the speaker (mouth breather).

Bunce usually takes his mobile from him once he’s asleep and then she tells me what Simon doesn’t: how he’s sleeping, if he’s eating enough. What goes on during his days with her, when I’m sitting in class—desperate to reach out to him—but forcing myself to translate interminably long passages of Greek for the Minotaur instead.  

Father has let me have the Jag at Watford this term. I asked him for it near the end of the holiday break. He heard me out, when I made my request for it, his forehead creasing in concentration. “He’ll be alright with Martin and Penelope, Basilton. I’ve no doubt about that. And Wellby will make sure to check in on him as well. He’s awfully fond of the boy.”

“So am I.” My words came out as a whisper. It was the first time I’d been so open to Father about my feelings for Simon. I don’t regret saying it, no matter what his response.

It’s true and I’m done hiding.

Father’s hand gripped my shoulder briefly. “I know.”

My eyes darted to his. His expression eased and a hint of a smile quirked his lips. “I may be old but I’m not blind. It wasn’t hard to puzzle it out at Christmas.”

I could feel my ears go warm as what little blood I have rushed into them. I opened my mouth to make some retort but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t deny it.

And he didn’t seem perturbed by it.

“And if I had been too thick to notice then, it certainly wouldn’t have escaped my attention now. You’ve spent practically every moment driving down there to see him.” Father waved a hand at me, as if to forestall any comment on my part.  “It’s understandable. The boy has been through the unthinkable.” He shook his head and his hand made an involuntary movement towards the inside pocket of his suit jacket, where he keeps his wand. “Simon needs the companionship of those who care for him.”

My mouth went dry. This was not the direction I expected this conversation to go. I should have known better than to underestimate Father’s powers of perception. He’s sharp and Daphne’s a natural empath, so I suppose it was inevitable that they would figure it out. I swallowed in an attempt to force some moisture to my mouth. “So, you’ll let me have the car?” I needed to get back to the point at hand.  I wasn’t sure I could handle the intensity of a heart to heart at that moment.

Father nodded. “Yes, yes. You’ll try to figure out some other way to get to him if I say no.” There was an unexpected glint in his eye as he spoke. He must have appreciated my perplexed expression because he raised his eyebrows, shoved his hands in his pockets, and huffed an unanticipated laugh. “You know your mother and I started dating at Watford.” This was a startling topic. I’ve rarely heard him speak of those times. Most of my information has come from Fiona.

He kept speaking, eyes gazing off in the distance somewhere over my left shoulder. “Your mother would always come here for the summer and I would be in Suffolk.” His eyes darted to me again. “I know every possible route from the estate there to our door here.” He huffed again. “I can’t tell you how many times I asked my father to borrow the car so I could save time on travel and have more time to spend with Natasha.” He pulled a key fob out of his pocket and dangled it in the air between us. “I’ll not make you endure the vagaries of the British rail system the way he made me.”

I took the keys from his hand. “Thank you.” I meant it. I was in a state of shock, honestly. He’d been utterly nonchalant about my feelings for Simon, uncharacteristically forthcoming about his past with my mother, and so unexpectedly kind about it all. I put out my hand to shake his and he gripped it with both of his, for longer than usual.

“Don’t park it at the lot near the Wood. The snow devils are hell this time of year. The last thing you need is them messing about with the motor or pelting the car with chestnuts. If the Mage’s Men could park off the Courtyard so can you. Mitali should have no problem with it.”

Headmistress Bunce has had no problem with my car or my mobile. She reversed the technology ban as soon as she set foot on the grounds. Considering she had provided Bunce with a contraband mobile during eighth year, this did not come as much of a surprise to me.

I grab the key fob from my desk and make my way down the steps of Mummers. The snow is swirling with the wind but there’s not much to speak of on the car yet. It’s early still. It might be thick by the time I get back tonight.

I’ll have to come back tonight. The Bunces’ home is bursting at the seams with people. There’s no place for me to stay when I go. Simon theoretically sleeps on a cot in Bunce’s room though I think she lets him crash on her bed more often than not. She complains about his wings enough.

I’m envious.

I know Bunce and Simon are just friends. I’m not bothered about that. I just miss his presence in our room so much that it hurts. There’s an ache in my chest when I look at his empty bed.

I’ve left it all just as it was the day he bolted to come find me. Dirty trackies in the corner, an untidy pile of books on his desk, his wand on the table, his bed a rumpled mess.

Slightly more rumpled now because I’ve been curling up on it, inhaling the faint smoky scent of him it still holds.

The motorway is fairly empty this time of day. I’m not a morning person by nature but the earlier I get on the road the longer I can spend with Simon. I’ll forego a few hours’ sleep if I can spend those hours with him instead.

I texted Bunce before I left, so she’ll know to expect me. She’ll make sure Simon’s up and about. He used to always be up with the sun, the bloody git, blundering around the room. I’d wake up to the sound of him only to huff and groan in mock annoyance. I’d watch him from under my half-closed eyelids as he riffled through his papers, hunted under the bed for his shoes, shrugged on his uniform jacket.

Simon’s not such an early riser anymore. Bunce says he still wakes with the sun, on the nights he gets any sleep, but he’s not up and about. Not until she harangues him for a bit. Or more than a bit. She usually manages to chivvy him to the kitchen for breakfast but then he’s a lump on the sofa for hours after.

Thousand-yard stares. Long stretches of immobility on the Bunces lumpy sofa. Silent walks with me.

He was never one for many words, but in the time since the Mage’s death he’s been painfully laconic in his speech.

I know he’s still in shock. It’s so much to take in. Simon had so little to begin with and now he’s lost that. The Mage. Ebb. Wellbelove. His magic. Watford.

He’s still got Bunce.

And now he has me, for whatever that’s worth.

It breaks my heart that his world shattered, just as my fondest dream finally came true. I’m not sure I’m a worthy trade.

I rap on the Bunces’ front door when I arrive. The snow is thicker here, flakes swirling around my head as I stamp my feet to stay warm. The door flies open and Priya rolls her eyes at the sight of me. “Oh, it’s you.”

I follow her in, relishing the warmth that washes over me. Headmistress Bunce is seated at the kitchen table, tapping away at her laptop. “Basilton.”

“Headmistress.” She usually makes the trip home early Friday afternoon and heads back to Watford at first light on Mondays.

“They’re in Penny’s room. You know the way.”

I give a warning knock on the door before I lean in to take a look. Bunce is seated at her desk but her chair is spun around to face Simon. He’s sprawled out on his stomach, wings nestled against his back, shirtless as usual.

“Baz.” Bunce greets me first, but Simon is already sitting up as she speaks.

I drop down on the bed next to him and press a gentle kiss to his temple. “Good morning, love.”

Bunce, as expected, snorts. “I’ll leave you two for a bit, shall I?” She ruffles Simon’s hair as she walks past us and then give me quick squeeze on the shoulder. Our eyes meet and she shrugs.

Not much has changed then.

Simon ends up on his side, head in my lap, as I lean against the wall by Bunce’s bed, my fingers sliding through his curls. I tell him about my week, all the stupid, useless, trivial things that happened at Watford since I’ve seen him last. Anything to distract him.

“Dev’s been sick this week so Niall tried to use “snug as a bug in a rug” to tuck the blankets around him when he was shivering and damn near strangled him instead. They got so damn tight around him it took both of us to get him unraveled.”

Simon tilts his head back to look at me. “You didn’t come up with a spell?”

There’s a glint in his eye, one I haven’t seen in far too long. I’m so desperate for it, I must be imagining it’s there.“I wasn’t there when he cast it. Niall tried something else but that just unwound the weave of the blanket and he couldn’t spell that away. Left Dev wrapped up like Frodo after the spider got to him. That’s when he shouted for me.”

Simon blinks up at me. “You didn’t use an “as you were”?

I’m not imagining it. Even his tone of voice is sharper.

I shake my head, focused on keeping my own voice calm and steady. “No, that would have just taken him back to the too-tight blankets. You know you can’t keep doing “as you were” over and over, once you’ve done another spell. It would just go back and forth between the two most recent ones.”

“How’d you get him free?” This is perhaps the most interest he’s shown in happenings at Watford since I returned to school. I can’t help the sharp flare of hope that shoots through me.

I keep my voice light. “I used scissors.”

“You did not!”

“I had to. I couldn’t think of a spell to put the blanket back together and every time I pulled on a strand it just got tighter.”

“I’ve never known you to be at a loss for a spell.” Simon narrows his eyes at me. I know this look. It usually presages him jutting his chin out in that delectable way of his. “Why didn’t you use “into thin air”?

Why the bollocks hadn’t I used that?  Hadn’t even thought of it. I had just snatched the scissors from Dev’s desk and proceeded to decimate the shreds of the blanket. Perhaps the darkening shade of Dev’s face had alarmed me too much.

I feel quite mortified about it now. Blast Niall. He didn’t think of it either.

I still can’t tamp down the rush of warmth that comes over me from Simon’s words though. Not only for his faith in me, or for his immediate ability to think of an appropriate spell for the situation, but also for that brief spark of the old Simon. That’s progress, isn’t it?

It’s more than I’ve seen so far.

I shrug. It’s a terrible habit I’ve undoubtedly picked up from him. “I’m not infallible. Dev took Niall’s blanket in recompense and made him deal with the mess we left behind. Now they’ve been fighting over how warm to keep the room since Dev’s got the only blanket.”

A flicker of a smile crosses Simon’s face. “If it was you, I’d have just made you share.”

My heart beats faster. I think I might swoon at his words, it’s not beneath me.

I don’t want to disrupt the moment though, so all I do is run my fingertip along his jawline. “You’re warm enough I wouldn’t have to share it.”

“Prick.”

“Mouth breather.”

I force myself to keep my breaths even. I can’t recall the last time he insulted me like this.

I’ve missed it.

Simon stares up at me silently and I trace the freckles along his cheek until I reach the one I’ve loved for years. I press my finger to it, keeping my tone casual as I speak. “Are you going to be a lazy bones and stay in bed all day, Snow? I thought we had plans to take you shopping today.”

I attempt to devise some reason to get him out of the house each time I come. Food, shopping, a film. I’ve not been too successful so far but I think at this point even he’s sick of wearing Premal’s old clothes.

I get him up and rummage around the untidy pile of clothing at the foot of the bed until I find a shirt. I spell it on then spell his wings and tail invisible. I can’t do much about the awful track bottoms. Does no one in this family wear jeans?

We’re definitely going to do something about the lack of them in Simon’s wardrobe today.

We wander around the city center, drifting into shops, getting coffee and scones (of course we get scones).

I eventually find an upscale men’s clothing store and drag Simon in.

“This is too posh for me, Baz,” Simon hisses in my ear as I make my way to the shelves of jeans near the back.

“Nonsense. It’s about time you dressed in something other than chavvy track bottoms and Premal’s lurid tshirts.” I flick through the jeans, eyeing Simon as I do. He’s shorter than me but with a more solid build.

At least he used to be. I’m not sure of his size anymore. He’s lost weight since the end of last term.

I won’t think about that right now.

I find a few pairs that appear to be the right size. They may be a bit long but he can just cuff them. I toss the jeans at him and move on to the shirts. He trails behind me like a forlorn puppy.

“Baz.”

“Hmm?” I’m riffling through some fitted crew neck shirts that are velvety to the touch. These will do nicely.

Simon tugs at my sleeve. “Baz. I can’t afford any of this.”  

“You can actually, with your leprechaun gold, but that’s not relevant at the moment. I’ve got this. I promised to take you shopping and this is going on my account.”

He looks as horror stricken as if I’d announced a nation-wide shortage of butter. “I can’t let you do that!”

“Why the hell not?”

“It’s too much money. I can’t have you buying me clothes.”

I put the shirts down and reach for his free hand. “Simon. I want to. I’m your boyfriend and I want to do this.” I step closer to him. “Let me do this for you, please?”

He frowns at me, eyebrows drawn to the middle of his forehead. I squeeze his hand. “What’s this really about?”

Simon’s eyes dart away and then return to me, the expression on his face harder to puzzle out now. “I just … I just don’t need all this.” He gestures with the arm holding the jeans and then rapidly clutches at them before they slide out of his grip. “I’m fine with what I’ve got. I can go to a thrift shop, find something in my size. You don’t have to do this.”

It dawns on me then that he’s never done this. Simon’s never gone into a real shop, to buy new clothes. Not even an H&M or a Uniqlo.

It’s all been hand-me-downs at the care homes or cheap thrift shop finds. Or the occasional Christmas gift from the Wellbeloves.

The only full set of new clothes he ever had were the uniforms at Watford. The ones he wore all the time.

The ones I gave him interminable amounts of grief over, back when I was just his prick of a roommate and insufferable nemesis.

It makes me furious at the Mage all over again. Couldn’t he have taken Simon to a real store, to buy some nice clothes? Just once?

I realize I’m standing here, staring at Simon, clutching his hand far too tightly. “I’m not doing it because I have to, Simon. I told you. I’m doing it because I want to. Because you deserve to have anything you need or want. New clothes. New shoes. A proper jacket. Whatever the fuck strikes your fancy, because by Crowley, why shouldn’t you?”

He blinks at me. I step closer. “Come on now. I need to see how my terrible boyfriend’s arse looks in these jeans.”

Simon flushes instantly, his expression rapidly shifting from serious to flustered. It’s adorable. “You can’t be serious, Baz.”

“I’m deadly serious about clothing, Simon. I’d think you’d know that by now.” I can’t help but smile down at him.

He huffs a laugh and I relax a little. “You’re fucking ridiculous about it, you wanker.”

“Trust my judgement then, you fashion disaster. You’re a prime candidate for a complete Queer Eye makeover.”

He actually grins at me. “Well, you’re queer enough to manage all that for me, yeah?”

I am. Challenge accepted.

We exit the shop an hour later, laden with bags. I’ve managed to find two pairs of jeans that are sinfully fitted to Simon’s form, an assortment of soft shirts that hug his muscled torso, one slim cashmere jumper that clings to his shoulders, and a brown leather jacket that nearly caused me to spontaneously combust in the shop. I’m delighted with the entire lot.

A judicious use of “clothes make the man” in the dressing room allowed the clothing to appropriately accommodate his wings and tail. I’ll have to mention that spell to Bunce.

I load our purchases into the car and find a curry shop for Simon. I linger over my kebabs, just drinking in the sight of him. The color has come back to his face, cheeks reddened by the brisk winter wind. He’s digging into his chicken tikka with a gusto that’s been sorely lacking the last few weeks.

I feel a surge of satisfaction when he eyes the lonely kebab on my plate. “You going to eat that, Baz?”

“I had considered it.” I don’t mean it. I ate more than enough samosas. I’ll put some of the Watford rats out of their misery later tonight. “Oh.” He shrugs and I can’t keep up the charade.

“Of course, you can have it, you nightmare. I saved it for you.”

Simon’s face lights up as he reaches for it. It’s the little things that give me hope that he’s making some progress. I know I can’t count on it every time. I know he’ll likely regress next week. But every little bit of improvement is a step in the right direction.

We head back to Bunce’s place in the late afternoon. The days pass far too slowly at Watford and far too swiftly when I’m with Simon. I’ll need to leave soon, to make it back before the drawbridge goes up for the night.

I make some perfunctory conversation with the Professors, indulge in a whispered exchange with Bunce while Simon hangs his new clothes in her closet, and then let Simon walk me to my car. I try to drag it out as long as I can, but the sun is sinking and I’ve got no choice but to leave now.

The chill is more pronounced as the shadows lengthen. I can’t help the shiver that runs through me. Simon wraps his arms around my waist and I revel in his heat. Even now, with his magic extinguished, he still radiates warmth. It’s comforting, though I should be the one giving comfort rather than him.

Simon rests his head on my shoulder and I bury my face in his hair, inhaling the scent of him. It’s not the smoky aroma that haunts my dreams. It’s fresh and green and holds the barest hint of that familiar fragrance.

I lightly brush my lips to his temple and he turns his face up to me, lifting his head from its resting place on my shoulder and touching his lips to mine. I hold my breath. I’ve not ventured to do more than lightly kiss his cheek or forehead, not wanting to push him, not now, not after everything.

Simon presses closer, his lips firm and warm. And just like the first time we kissed, he takes the lead and moves his mouth, doing that thing with his jaw that leaves me breathless.

My lips part and he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against my own.

My heart is hammering in my chest, my pulse pounding in my ears. I’ve yearned for this, hungered for his touch, not daring to seek it for myself. I’ve been content with holding his hand, letting him rest his head in my lap, feeling the press of his shoulder against my own.

I’m grateful for anything he’s willing to give me.

My eyes have drifted closed as his touch heats my skin and his mouth moves against my own. I’ve missed this so very much. We may have only had two days’ worth of spectacular snogging, but Simon’s kisses have become more than just a craving to me. I need them. Like air or water. I don’t know how I’ve survived without them.

I’d dreamed of this often enough through the years, fantasized about his lips on mine, his hand sliding up my back like it is now, his shoulders underneath my grip.

The reality is far better than I’d ever hoped.

Simon pulls back and rests his forehead against mine.  Our breaths mingle, arms wrapped tightly around each other. I can’t seem to open my eyes. I know it’s not a dream, but part of me still expects it all to vanish if I do open them.

It’s only when Simon’s hand slides up to tangle in my hair that I force myself to bring my gaze to his. The blue of his eyes is so close I can see the variegated shades that make the color so unique. There’s nothing ordinary about this boy in my arms. Not now. Not ever.

“I’ll miss you.” His words are just a whisper but I can hear them clearly.

“I’ll miss you too. I’ll call, every night.” My grip on him tightens. “I’ll be back next week.”

“I want you to, but you don’t have to. I know you’ve got schoolwork to do.”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “I’ve no one to distract me during the week anymore. I’m so far ahead that I could take a week off and still not fall behind. It’s not as challenging, without Bunce there to goad me on.” I press a kiss to his forehead. “I’d rather be here with you, you know that.”

Simon’s lips brush mine once more. “I’d rather have you here too.”

I make it back to Watford just in time. The drawbridge goes up just as I reach Mummers. I take a shower, sort through my papers, read next week’s Political Science assignment. I wait until ten and then I dial Simon’s number. He answers on the second ring.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I miss you already.”

“I miss you too.”

I listen to him breathe. Words aren’t necessary. It’s enough to know he’s there.

My thanks to @basic-banshee @penpanoply and @fight-surrender for the encouragement, feedback and support for this fic during the crazy real life events going on as I was writing this.

#carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #birthday gift fic #my writing #my fic #shopping #a day in the life

[spdrabblebomb]

The Man In The Picture

TITLE: The Man In The Picture AUTHOR: fallingwthstyle PROMPT: Day Five [4/28]: Beginnings WORD COUNT: 1,690~ WARNING(S): “Off-screen” character death. RELATIONSHIP: Mayor McDaniels and the man in the picture in ‘Tweek x Craig’.

Notes: This is a missing scene from  This Is Not Your Parent’s K2‘but can be read as a stand alone oneshot; Officer Barbrady was killed in an explosion and fire in the line of duty after successfully stopping a van carrying a very large bomb headed toward Washington, D.C.

Mayor McDaniels finally looked away as they began to lower Officer Barbrady’s casket into the ground. The funeral was over, and now all she wanted to do was leave quickly, but she knew protocol required her to say a few words to the crowd that had gathered first.

She walked to the podium where Sargent Yates had delivered a moving eulogy a few minutes ago, her two aides flanking her at a respectful distance. One of them handed her a bottle of water and she nodded gratefully and took a sip before leaning down to the microphone.

“I want to thank you all for coming today.” Her throat was raw and it was difficult to speak. She looked out beyond the crowd; spring had come late to South Park this year, but the flowers were in full bloom now. Their beauty was lost on her; she might as well be looking at a black and white photograph. She spotted Tweek and Craig, standing off to the side in their best suits, holding hands and watching her. Even seeing them wasn’t enough to lift her from her sadness.

“Officer Barbrady exemplified everything a police officer should be,” she continued. “And Vincent was a wonderful man, and my friend. His selfless act three nights ago may have saved thousands of lives; remember that, and don’t ever forget him.”

She looked behind Tweek and Craig at the flowers blooming in Stark’s Pond Park. She and Vincent had had several picnics there recently; and twenty years ago she and Roger had as well, and it was those she remembered with the greatest fondness. They were young then, and believed they had their whole lives ahead of them. She was a law student, and he owned a real estate company and the two of them were planning a future together. Back then, each spring had felt like a new beginning, but she sensed she would never have that feeling again.

Life as she knew it ended the day he had driven to Denver to take photographs of a restaurant he was going to list for sale. A gas line in the kitchen had exploded, killing three employees and six customers…including Roger, as well as a state senator. All she had left of Roger now was her memories, and the photograph of him she kept on her desk.

Her throat closed and she choked back a sob. She turned and hurried away, toward the SUV that would take her home. Her aides followed close behind, ready to fend off anyone who tried to talk to her. She was seconds from breaking protocol and opening the back door herself instead of waiting for one of the aides to do it when she heard the voice. It was just a single word, but it stopped her in her tracks.

“Mary…?”

It was him. Even after all these years, she would recognize that voice anywhere.

Her head swam and her legs threatened to buckle, but she told herself she must not faint, not now. “Roger…?”

“Excuse me sir,” one of her aides stepped forward to intervene and then froze as he, too, recognized the man from the picture on the mayor’s desk. His hair was grey now and the mustache was gone, but it was clearly him.

“It’s all right, Mr. Johnson,” she said, taking a step closer to Roger, still not certain if she was going to faint or not. How can he possibly be here?

Roger pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “My car’s parked right over there,” he said, nodding toward a nondescript rental car parked a few dozen yards away. “I can take you anywhere you need to go, if it’s okay…?”

“Mayor?” Johnson asked, and at her reassuring nod he stepped back again. Roger and Mayor McDaniels walked to his car and climbed in. He drove three blocks and pulled into the parking lot of the Whole Foods Grocery and parked in the shade of a tree at the far end of the lot. Everything felt surreal, as if she had just stepped into a Twilight Zone episode.

“Where have you been?” she finally whispered.

“Can I show you something?” He pulled a slim manila folder from beside his seat and held it in his lap. “Because if I tell you where I’ve been, you might not believe me.”

She was ready to believe anything he told her; she’d already seen her town destroyed by Mecha-Streisand as well as an oversized 4th of July snake; almost nothing surprised her anymore.

She nodded and watched him open the folder. There was only three sheets of paper inside, and on top was a newspaper clipping she herself had a copy of, carefully tucked away in her box of memories, a front-page article about the explosion at the restaurant. “You know about this, of course,” he said, quickly flipping that page over as if he hadn’t meant for her to see it. He’d revealed yet another clipping. “Do you remember this a couple months later?”

She looked at the article which she vaguely remembered reading a long time ago, about the aftermath of that explosion; it hadn’t been an accident but an assassination of the senator by an organized crime group, who had stopped at the restaurant for lunch during a campaign tour. The article detailed the outcome of the trial where four of the people involved had been sentenced to life in prison. All four of their mugshots were at the bottom of the page.

“I didn’t die in that explosion,” Roger said into the silence that had descended between them as she looked at the article. “I had just left the restaurant and was walking back to my car. It knocked me off my feet and I broke my arm, but…” He trailed off and she nodded.

“But you didn’t die?”

He shook his head. “The FBI had been tipped off that something might happen there, but they arrived about five minutes too late. They found me lying in the parking lot, and wanted to see the pictures I had taken before the explosion…” He swallowed, nervously reaching down to move the clipping aside, keeping this one face up; underneath it was a single 8X10 photograph.

“I took this picture ten minutes before the explosion,” Roger said. It showed the inside of the restaurant; four people were visible: the senator who had been targeted along with one of his aides, a waitress, and someone in the background wearing a pair of workman’s overalls.

“Recognize him?” Roger asked, pointing at the man in the background. He slid the article he had just shown her closer and pointed to one of the mugshots. It was clearly the same man in both pictures.

“He was there pretending to check for a gas leak in one of their ovens. Instead, he planted a small bomb next to the gas line, and it was enough to blow the whole building up.” Roger swallowed nervously; he had been waiting two decades to tell her this. “That picture got him and three accomplices sentenced to life in prison. But there was more of that group still out there…and if they had any inkling that the person who took that picture was still alive…they might have gone after people I loved to find me. So…they put me in the witness protection program, and I’ve been living in Boston under a different name for the last twenty years. That’s where I’ve been.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “I wanted to get in touch with you, Mary…but it would have been too dangerous.”

She was staring at him in wonder. “But why are you here now?” she asked.

“My…” he sighed. “Case worker got in touch with me about two months ago. She told me that the last of those four had died in prison…and that the rest of that organization had been jailed or died, and I was free to do whatever I wanted. Oh, and my monthly stipend from them was being cut by 60%.” He smiled. “I think it was mostly a cost-cutting move, but that’s okay because I’m free to do whatever I want now. I wasn’t sure if I should come here or not, or if you’d even want to see me, or…”

He closed the folder and tucked it away again before continuing. “But when I heard about what happened in your town, I had to come. I, ah…” he looked away from her, out the windshield. “I didn’t know you and Officer Barbrady were together until today…and now I feel sort of like an opportunistic jerk—”

“No, Roger.” She rested her hand against his arm. “I’m glad you came…it’s really good to see you again.” They regarded each other for a long moment before she continued: “You can’t imagine what it’s like to lose two people in an explosion—” she reached down and took his hand. “One I loved with all my heart…and one I cared deeply about, who I thought I could learn to love some day.” She sighed and another comfortable silence settled over them.

“Would you like to go somewhere and have coffee?” Roger finally asked.

Mary smiled; it was the first time in years it reached all the way to her eyes. “No,” she replied, and at Roger’s dismayed look she hurried to add, “I want to go somewhere and get a six-pack of beer, some sandwiches, and about a pound of potato salad…” she looked over his shoulder at the flowers that were blooming everywhere; the entire world suddenly looked more colorful. The sky was bluer and the clouds more beautiful; even the bright yellow dandelions that she once considered a nuisance growing alongside the parking lot were pretty. She sensed a new beginning was possible, and it was coming her way; no, coming both their ways. She also knew she’d be crying into Roger’s shoulder by sundown after opening up to him about Vincent, but for now that was okay.

She squeezed his hand and finished, “I want to go have a picnic.”

THE END

Neither the Mayor nor Officer Barbrady seem to have a canon first name, so I named her Mary because it sounds a bit like 'Mayor’, and as a homage to Mary Kay Bergman who provided her voice in the first three seasons of the show. I named Officer Barbrady Vincent because I dunno why, it just sounded right ;-)

Thanks for reading!

I LOVE when people use lesser-known side characters in their fics. The end was so sweet, and I loved that last callback in the last sentence. Thank you so much for writing!

#submissions #submission #spdrabblebomb #south park fanfiction #sp fanfiction #south park fanfic #sp fanfic #fanfiction #south park #officer barbrady #mayor mcdaniels #original character #referenced character death #drabble #ap17d5

[myrish-lace-love]

Summary: Before Sansa leaves for King’s Landing, Jon unexpectedly gives her comfort, and something more, in a time of trouble. Ned Stark puts a stop to it.

For @jonxsansafanfiction Day 7: Flowers (Jon x Sansa: 15 Days of Valentines). Multiple POV.

Shoutout to @janebrkin for the lovely idea of Jon comforting Sansa during thunderstorms when she was little - I was inspired by your story and people should go read it! :)

Jon

Jon knew it was wrong, truly wrong, because his father was angry. Lady Catelyn had been known to come down hard on him for some perceived slight, but his father was fair, and rarely raised his voice. Lord Stark’s face was stormy now, his grey eyes like chipped flint.

“Never again, Jon, do you understand? You cannot–” Jon had seen his father at a loss for words before, but never with his mouth working quite this way. “Sansa is meant for–”

“A prince, I know, father.” Joffrey had pranced into Winterfell like the spoiled brat he was, and something about the way Sansa looked at him made Jon’s blood boil.

His father swallowed, then nodded. “Yes. A prince.”

Jon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His father had ordered him into the Lord’s Chambers and pointed for him to sit, after bellowing at Jon and Sansa in the godswood. Sansa had fled. “Why were you cruel to her, father? I gave her the crown. It was my fault. Sansa didn’t do anything wrong.” Jon wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong either, but he knew Sansa was blameless.

His father ran a hand over his face. “I’ll talk to her, Jon. It’s not your fault, either, you just – you must promise me, now, never to be alone with Sansa again.”

Jon didn’t fully understand why he had to stay away from his half-sister, but he swore the oath then and there. He didn’t even risk saying goodbye to her when he left for the Wall. Sometimes, when he took the watch at night, he’d look out over the shelf of ice and remember the crown he’d placed in Sansa’s red hair. He’d whisper a prayer into the cold air that Joffrey had become the prince Sansa deserved.

***

It was only flowers. Sansa liked flowers, liked to plait them in her hair and tuck them into Lady’s collar. So when Jon learned what had happened to upset her, he picked most of the blue roses in the glass gardens. He snapped off the thorns and wove a kind of crown –lopsided, hardly the perfect construction Sansa would have made. Jon might not get along with Sansa easily, but he cared for her, just like he cared for all his family. Maybe not quite the same way, since Sansa had come of age and he’d been less able to meet her eyes. Something tightened in his chest now when he saw her toss her hair over her shoulder, and he wasn’t inclined to examine the feeling too closely.

Sansa was ecstatic when the royal visit was announced. Jon would need to practice staying out of the way, but Sansa was to be put forward as a candidate for betrothal to the Baratheon prince. Sansa had always been a thoughtful, courteous girl, and she’d made a gift for Joffrey. Jon had seen her bent over her work in her lap, the tip of her tongue sticking out as she concentrated. She’d presented Joffrey with a handkerchief, emblazoned with a golden lion, that even Jon could tell was finely worked. Joffrey had bowed to her, and Sansa glowed with happiness.

At least, she did until she picked up the handkerchief by the corner that afternoon, where Joffrey had dropped it in the mud. Joffrey and his guards had just passed by the training yard, where Robb and Jon were sparring. The sound of their ugly laughter made Jon angry. He came at Robb quicker than he should have, and got in a few blows before getting thwacked in the shoulder by Robb’s wooden sword. He was rubbing his arm as he saw Sansa and Jeyne walking together. 

Robb kept striding towards the gate. Jon saw Sansa was slumping, with her head down, and he slowed his pace. Being a bastard had few privileges, but this was one of them. Jon noticed things others didn’t, and since his station lent him a kind of invisibility, he was able to hear and see details others missed. He’d surprised his lord father more than once with his knowledge of the goings-on around the castle.

“I’ll never be able to get it clean, but I suppose it makes no difference. He didn’t care for it anyway.” Sansa was twisting the dirty handkerchief in her hands. “Oh Sansa, I’m so sorry, I’m sure he didn’t mean what he said.” Jeyne sounded as if she didn’t believe her own lie. Sansa had shaken her head. “It doesn’t matter, Jeyne. I’ll stitch him finer things. I’ll be more beautiful, I’ll make him love me.” The tremor in Sansa’s voice scared Jon the most, made him afraid for her, afraid of what she might give away to this boy. So he decided to give her something of her own.

He’d found her in the godswood the next day, and listened to her, and held out the makeshift gift. “The crown of love and beauty, for you, you’re already beautiful, Sansa. He’s your prince, he’ll love you and treat you kindly. He has to. Any prince would.” You’re worth loving, he wanted to say, but he thought that might be a step too far, even though it was true. Jon placed it on her head. She’d smiled, and asked him to play an old game. Father had crashed through the branches a few minutes later, yanking him by his injured arm, while Sansa ran. 

Sansa 

The stitching, Sansa thought numbly, I’ll never get the mud out. She’d begged gold thread from her mother, too, to make sure the lion’s head gleamed. Her favor had floated half-in, half-out of the puddle. Joffrey’s sneering remark echoed in her ears. All she could think was that her needlework must have been coarse, and uneven, though she’d checked and checked. She had to do better, though she wasn’t sure how. So when she heard someone step through the trees into the godswood, she was momentarily angry. Couldn’t she be left alone, to cry, to be unladylike for once in her life? She wiped her eyes, and held tight to the low tree branch. A light rain had started to fall, and the bark was slightly slippery.

Jon emerged from the leaves. He was prone to sulking, and there was an anger and melancholy that never left him. But before her mother made it clear she was to have nothing to do with Jon, when she was very little, and scared of storms outside her window, Sansa would sometimes go to him at night and ask to sleep in his bed. Robb would let her too, of course. He would chuckle, and muss her hair, and tell her there was nothing to worry about before falling back asleep. Sansa would still shake, though, each time the thunder boomed. Robb was big and strong, her oldest brother. He wasn’t frightened by the storm. But Sansa was small, so small it was hard for her to climb into Robb’s bed. She couldn’t stop the fear that coursed through her each time the thunder sounded as if it would swallow her up. Jon would tell her it was all right to be scared. He would hold her, and talk to her, until the rain ceased. She could still recall how warm he’d been, how he’d sing to her in a high, sweet voice if she asked. Her lady mother forbade her from joining her half-brother in bed when she turned six, and Sansa learned that the word “bastard” separated Jon and Robb. Although Sansa dutifully turned her head away now when Jon walked by, she remembered that he’d been gentle with her, when they were children.

Still, she was ashamed of her tears, and wasn’t sure she wanted to share them. “Did you come to mock me too, Jon?” She heard the thread of anger in her voice, but held her chin high. Jon stopped in front of her, strangely quiet. It took her a moment to realize he was holding a mass of blue flowers in his hand.

“No, Sansa. I – I came to see if you were all right.”

If he had been wheedling, or commanding, she would have sent him packing. Instead he let the silence draw out between them, and Sansa began to relax. Then, slowly, she began to talk, in fits and starts. “I wasn’t – the gift, Jon, I made Joffrey a favor, I spent weeks on it, getting every stitch right, though there’s no reason for you to know that–“

“I saw you,” Jon said. “You’d work on it day and night. You brought it outside a few times, while we trained.”

“The sunlight, it’s best for certain techniques, I – you noticed?” She thought Jon Snow would be the last person to pay attention to an embroidery hoop.

“You seemed…tense, while you did it. And you stuck your tongue out.” The corner of his mouth quirked.

“I do that when I’m concentrating. Though I’d rather others couldn’t tell.”  She gathered her skirts in an effort to look dignified, even when sitting in a tree. “Yes. Well. I’d hoped – I’d hoped the prince would like it. I’m only a lady, Jon, not a princess, I have to show him I’m not stupid, I’m worth marrying, worth bringing to King’s Landing, there are so many others he could choose. I heard him, did you know that? I heard what he said, when he dropped it. ‘Trust a dog not to know a lion’s likeness.’” She twisted her damp hair around her finger. Jon listened to her, really listened as she talked, it felt liked so few people did that anymore. “I did my best, Jon, I asked Maester Luwin to show me pictures in the library, I stitched the lion as fine as I could.”

He held the flowers out to her mutely. “Thank you Jon.” Sansa was polite, but puzzled. “What is it?”

“It’s a crown,” Jon said. “Love and beauty.” She and Robb and Jon had played this game a thousand times when they were younger, the Queen of Love and Beauty. Robb, her bright-eyed brother with the easy laugh, had always won, and named her his queen. Jon was the one before her now, serious and solemn. She bowed her head. When he placed the crown on her hair, his touch was light. He told her she was beautiful, and any prince would love her.

She drew strength from his gesture, enough to bring back some of her good humor. “Should you swear fealty then?” Robb would have teased her, and chucked her under the chin. She half-expected Jon to stammer out an excuse, and leave the way he came. Instead Jon simply went down on one knee, and took her hand. They were too old for this game, and perhaps that was the reason for the flush on her cheeks. His curls were wet, and stuck to his forehead. He brushed the back of her hand with his lips. “My queen.” Jon looked up at her with dark eyes as if she already was a queen, as if there was no room for doubt.

She held onto that look, even after father’s lecture, even after arriving in King’s Landing. She thought back on it when Joffrey’s men struck her, when Littlefinger undressed her with his eyes.

After she bled, when she was to be wed to the man she knew to be a monster, she picked at the blue roses she’d embroidered on her gown. I’m already beautiful. Any prince would love me. Sansa started to cry. Jon had spoken those words that day as if they were as true and as plain as the rain that soaked her hair. 

Ned

Promise me, Ned. Ned knew he was terrifyingly close to failing Lyanna, when he saw Jon Targaryen kneeling before his daughter in the godswood, as a crown of winter roses graced her hair. Sansa’s gaze was rapt, and Jon looked at her like she was the sun and stars together. No, he thought, Jon, stop, you can’t, a love like this once broke the world apart. So he shattered the scene, sending Sansa running, dragging Jon back to Winterfell’s halls. He’d forbid his daughter and his nephew from spending time with each other. He’d send Jon to the Wall, and escort Sansa safely to King’s Landing, before he’d let a love so strong and dangerous bloom again.

#jonsansaff valentines #my fic #canon divergence #fluff and angst #jonsan fic