#southern vampire mysteries | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leftingbadly · 3 months

Text

both. NSFW | godric of gaul, eric northman

A spin-off piece from Between Blood and Barren Homes where you, Eric, and Godric explore your new, developing relationship.

Pairing: Godric/Eric Northman x OFC/You

Rating: 18+

There are so many ways this could have started.

With a kiss?

With a push?

Maybe with anger, yes. Definitely with anger. But it was the sort of anger frustration was made out of, the sort desperation reeks of. You know?

Maybe Eric started it first. Oh, Eric started it first

One day when you’re in your room, and you’d come back from swimming, or you’d gotten out of the shower and the entire room reeked of you– your body wash, your hair oils and shampoo, your body lotion. God, Eric steps one foot into the hallway outside of your bedroom door and he can smell how sweet you are. He can hear you on your bed, taking care of your hair, he’s so attuned to you in that moment that he can hear the very strands of it moving

And he comes to you, because God, how could he not?

It hadn’t been like this at first.

He had hated you at first, as he did all things. But now…

He had told himself over the past weeks that you were just a means to an end, whatever it took to keep his Maker alive, whatever it took to see that Godric didn’t meet the sun– he paid your price, he kept you safe, he did it all

And in doing so, he fell in love with the woman that you are

And oh, the woman that you are

So he comes into your room under false pretences, and he tells you it’s dangerous tonight, because there had been a meeting held, and foreign vampires were in the area. And he looks at you as he says this, in his black tank top, and his cheeks are flushed and you can tell, you can tell, that he’d just fed. Because there was that look in his eye that he always got, a man satisfied, a man sated, a man ready to suck the blood out of the world– and he was staring at you

“What?” The woman asked. Her legs crossed, a bathroom wrapped tightly around her body. She had become accustomed to this, being so vulnerable around the place now. In a home full of vampires it wasn’t hard to be reminded that you were at the mercy of their wills.

“What?” Eric’s voice taut, snapping, despite the kindness he had been predicting all these weeks. He was on the verge of something he couldn’t name. A foreign wind blowing him off an unknown cliff. Towards you, towards you, towards you

“Despite me giving most of my attention to your Maker, as per your request, Eric, I can still tell when things are off with other vampires too. You know?”

His feet bring him forward towards you, as though your words are a lasso around his neck. Step, step, step– and there he was standing before you. Your neck craned up, up, up– fuck, how tall was this man?

“What do you see?”

There were those words again,

Often, often, often would you have heard it from Godric’s mouth

“Tell me what you see.”

It meant: tell me there is more to me than the monster I had made

It meant: tell me that you do see more man in me than that

It meant: Tell me you know that I will not hurt you

“What do you want me to see?” The woman asked. She was careful. She knew the dance. Unlike with Godric, one could not so easily tell Eric Northman he too wore his emotions in his eyes. That same glint, that same wound.

Eric remained quiet as he stared at you. His eyes fixed on the small bump of skin on your neck. You were right there, your throat was right there, but he couldn’t.

He swallowed hard and he stepped back.

“You’re taking care of Godric.”

But it meant: I see the way my Maker looks at you

It meant: I see the way you look at him

Because despite the man he was, oh, the man he was, Eric Northman would not feed or kiss or fuck the woman his Maker held so closely to him

But why…

Why was she staring up at him like that?

Why was she standing up?

Please, please don’t stand up

Fuck, she was walking towards him.

And why did her hand have to feel so soft? And why did the ghost of a heart thrum in his chest where she touched it? Fuck, fuck, fuck–

“You look like you could use some care too, in your long life.”

And what could he do?

What else, truly, could he have done but kiss you in that moment?

Gentle intention and hard lips. Your legs were wrapped around him before either of you knew it. And then changed, turned, Eric found himself on the bed in the next moment and you on his lap, facing away from him

He took pleasure in the way he had to crane your neck, exposing it for all its glorious divinity, his entire palm stretched over it as his hand held your chin and his mouth devoured yours

Saliva mixing, gooey tongue over tongue, he traced your teeth and everything else you would give him

There was a heat building up in the room as your body struggled against his, struggled for more, struggled for deeper, harder– fuck, Eric, your voice called out

“Do something before I lose my mind.” The whimper in your voice unravelled him. The sound of the hinges to your bedroom creaking, unravelled him even more.

He stopped kissing you, a string of saliva pulling between the two of you, as your heads turned to see Godric standing in the doorway. How had he been so lost in you that he couldn’t hear another vampire approaching?

How had he been so lost in you that he couldn’t feel Godric approaching? But there he stood, in all his glory, white linen pants and a grey sweater that dipped so, so deliciously down his chest. Collarbones peaked and tattoos displayed lifetimes of story and chaos. Godric stood as he stared, unmoved, unblinking. And the woman’s breath was bated, but there was a heat in her body and between her legs that wouldn’t stay sated for long. And Eric, oh, sweet Eric, Sweet boy, Eric.

He held in a breath, then exhaled three times before he plucked up the courage.

There was nothing left to do but this.

He had gone too far, he had been too brave. Now, he was going to have to be more bold. More daring. Makers had killed their offspring for far, far less. But here he was now and this was the chance he was going to take.

For a moment he could feel Godric’s wrath, Godric’s pain. For a moment all those months of doubt and discourse within his Maker on whether or not he should or could do anything to you came to a front.

Eric could sense it all now, Godric hid nothing from him

And a bright red monster reared its head, jealousy the colour of blood now

And he wondered for a moment if this was his end

And he wondered for a moment if Godric would spurn those centuries of love and faith between them

And Eric moved his hand on your jaw, and he turned her wide, open, wet mouth to Godric, and he ripped open her blouse with his other hand

A gasp left the woman, of course it did, as Godric stepped closer. The door closed behind him, and he stepped closer, closer, closer

Moments passed as he stared at her, and the cold air made her nipples hard, and the feel of Eric pressing into her back, and the look of Godric’s gaze pressing into her front– it was too much for a woman, she was just a woman, and fuck, she needed someone to do something–

Her back arched as Eric’s hand trailed ever so slightly, cautiously, waiting for Godric to accept the invitation

And he did.

Mouth dipped, fangs bared, Godric stared at the woman as though centuries of restraint were put to shame

He wanted to touch you

But first, he had to ask

Silence rang in the room.

But he couldn’t ask.

The woman’s wide eyes looked up to him, pleading

“Godric, please.”

Please.

Of course he would. Anything. Anything you could do or say or want from him, if you said that word, the entire world was yours. But you weren’t asking for the world. You were asking for a kiss.

“What is it you want?” Godric’s confidence grew. The trepidation in him sizzled out, and where he had initially mistaken your lust for concern, he leaned closer to recognise yours eyes’ true intent. “It seems you have your fill of man in my progeny.”

Your head shook, vehemently. Because for all that had happened between you and Eric, if Godric in this moment didn’t kiss you, you knew you’d go insane. Your hands lifted up and reached around that stupid, simple fucking sweater and you pulled him so hard he crashed into you. And his fangs slices at your lips, and your tongue, and your blood floated into his mouth and you didn’t care.

Because Eric was kissing your neck now

And Godric’s tongue was sliding over yours

And Eric’s hands rested where your gown once was and fuck, it was cold, and fuck, it was hot at the same time

Hands slid over your body as it danced with the sound of ripping fabric. You were naked before you knew it, Eric’s fingers inside of you before you knew it, your hips grinding into them as Godric held you still in his progeny’s lap, before you knew it.

He didn’t break the kiss, not even as Eric moved you further up the bed and Godric followed, lapping at the bloodstream from your mouth where his fangs had cut

“I want to taste her.” Eric’s request was simple, and you damn near died when Godric pulled himself away. And the woman’s eyes followed his, as it looked away from him to his progeny behind her head, and she could do nothing but grind and whimper as Eric stuck his tongue into his Maker’s mouth, stealing the blood Godric had taken from you.

They kissed until the blood was depleted, and then Eric turned your head for more. And Godric bent his face lower, lower than you had expected him to go, to place his mouth over the other set of lips that craved their attention. A gasp left you as his tongue slithered along your folds, cold hands holding them apart, and Eric swallowed those gasps whole. His hands never ceased their attack on your breasts, or your nipples, and the sensation of having two mouths on you, of having Godric and Eric surround you, of having the sheer power and the knowledge that if they wanted to, they could snap you in half with less than a thought.

The woman’s hand gripped into the hair of the smaller man, Godric groaned, the feel of having his hair pulled an unfamiliar and all but welcoming sensation. It had been so long since a woman had tempted him this much, and so long even still since he had felt so connected to Eric through the bond. The thing that linked them together as maker and progeny thrumming with life and blood and lust. And the woman’s body hummed with it, too, as Eric bit his tongue and gave her his blood as well. It was more than what she could handle, more than anything she could handle, and she found her body shaking and her legs wrapping around Godric’s head as she came down from her first orgasm. The first of many, that night.

But Godric was quick. Quicker than she had time to recover, he flipped her over onto his son’s chest and pressed his own into her back. His hand moved her head, turning her neck as his lips sought out hers. He wouldn’t let her go that night without a thousand kisses to her lips. But her head moved, her hand lifted up to grasp his hair again and she dragged it away from her mouth and placed it, to his shock, against her neck.

She felt his dick throb against her ass, and her eyes looked up to Eric as she looked up at him, a silent plea. A distressed beg. She wanted them–

“You want us both to…?”

Godric’s words died on his lips as her gasp overtook the sound of the room. Eric’s teeth plunged into her, not needing further invitation, and Godric’s eyes blared angry and violent and lust-filled before she pushed his head down as well and his teeth sunk into her, too. Her second orgasm overtook her then, and her body shook as the two of them drank from her in tandem.

“Please,” her words were barely a whisper when they finished. “Please. I need it.”

“Who, sweetheart?” Eric asked. His nose rubbing against hers, his tongue still licking his lips. “Whose cock do you want first?”

“Both,” her words were breathless as her head slumped. The desperation was making her tired, and she needed them to relieve her of the pain between her legs.

“Both?” Eric was amused. His eyebrows shot up at the gall of the human woman between them. He was about to interject on behalf of his maker, knowing that the smaller man wouldn’t want to put the woman through that much for her first time with them.

But Godric had been unravelling since he smelled her and his progeny together in the hallway

If he was being honest with himself he was unravelling since the first night he had met her

And fuck, she asked so nicely

How could he deny her anything?

And fuck, she felt so good and soft, and alive between the two of them

Godric’s voice beat out into the open air before Eric’s could.

“Hold onto his shoulders.”

102 notes · View notes

the-smut-analyst · 6 months

Text

A defence of the Good Guy / Bad Boy love triangle

It is no secret that mainstream YA & NA fantasy gravitates towards an angsty love triangle. But is this trope's popularity due to vapid teenage vanity... or something far deeper?

Warning: in this post, I will be referencing: True Blood/The Southern Vampire Mysteries, Legendborn, A Court of Thorns and Roses, The Shadow and Bone Trilogy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Hunger Games, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, and The Vampire Diaries. Some minor spoilers, mostly relating to the romance side of things, may be involved.

I have stumbled across a bunch of articles lately analysing why love triangles are popular in YA and NA fiction - and all of them, in my opinion, missed the entire point.

Firstly, they focus entirely on the "love interests", while wilfully ignoring the fact that the romance element is often a subset of these stories, rather than the main focus (more on that later).

Secondly, these articles often attribute the appeal of the love triangle to "teenage vanity". They either directly state or imply that young women are drawn to the idea of "provoking" two men into a fight for their affection.

Look, I get it.

Or at least I get how a middle-aged man tap-tap-tapping away on his computer might draw that conclusion. Especially if the crux of his knowledge regarding female-centred fantasy rests on blog posts ripping apart Twilight.

But regardless, the fact remains that labelling YA love triangles as a conceited sexual fantasy is a gross over-simplification. Why? Because romance is rarely the point of the story. Instead, the love triangle is a vehicle through which the author complements and elevates the standard Hero's Journey plot beats.

To demonstrate this argument, I will go through each of the critical plot beats in the Hero's Journey. For each beat, I will demonstrate (with examples) how dual love interests can underscore the character development of the protagonist and highlight her emotional struggles during each stage.

The outline for this analysis will be as follows:

Introduction of the Female Protagonist / Refusal of the Call

Meet the Good Guy / Meeting the Mentor

Meet the Bad Boy / Tests, Allies, and Enemies

Death of Innocence / The Ordeal in the Abyss

Heartbreak / "Death" of the Mentor

Grief for Lost Innocence / Refusal of the Return

Self-Discovery / The Road Back Home

Female Protagonist Accepts Her New Self / Master of Two Worlds

For reference, here is a rough outline of the major plot beats in the Hero's Journey:

Alright. Time to rip apart some assumptions.

Let's go!

Introduction of the Female Protagonist

Refusal of the Call

Mainstream fantasy love triangles almost always centre a female protagonist hence why people love to hate on them. The introduction of this protagonist generally follows your fairly standard Hero's Journey opening.

We meet the protagonist, usually a teenager or young woman, going about their "everyday life" in the ordinary world.

But then the Call to Adventure comes - sometimes referred to as the Inciting incident. For Feyre (ACOTAR), this moment is when she kills a wolf who turns out to be Fae. Or for Katniss (HG), her sister's name is drawn, prompting her to offer herself as a tribute instead.

The Call to Adventure or Inciting Incident marks a point of no return - even though the protagonist might not realise it at the time. It is the moment when life as they know it ends. Afterwards, nothing will ever be the same, including the protagonist.

The following beat is usually the Refusal of the Call, where the protagonist resists any change coming their way. Buffy (BTVS), for example, wants to continue her life as a regular teenage girl instead of being burdened by the duties of being the Slayer. Similarly, Sabrina (TCAOS) is hesitant to participate in the dark baptism, scared of its implications for her ties to the mortal world.

But for the plot to move forward, something or someone needs to prompt the protagonist to leave the "ordinary" world behind - and in turn, take those first few tentative steps into the "special" world (unknown).

Enter...

Meeting the Good Guy

Meeting the Mentor

The Mentor doesn't always have to be an Obi-Wan-style character who teaches the protagonist everything they know about lightsabers. In its simplest form, the Mentor archetype is a guide. Someone who takes the protagonist by the hand, either literally or metaphorically, and leads them from the ordinary world into the special one.

This transition is known as Crossing the Threshold and it is the beat that marks the shift from Act I to Act II.

Now, there is a good reason why the Meeting the Mentor plot beat often serves as a precursor to Crossing the Threshold. And no, it isn't because the protagonist is incapable of doing anything by themselves.

Instead, the Mentor character is often employed to explain how this new world works to both the protagonist and the reader alike.

Through the protagonist interacting with a "guide", the rules and systems of the new world can be revealed through dialogue and action, rather than excessive exposition and info-dumping.

And this is where the "good guy" as a Mentor character stand-in comes into play. His arrival serves the dual purpose of propelling the protagonist into the Crossing the Threshold beat and guiding her once she does.

For example, Sookie's budding romance with Bill is what introduces her (and us) to the Charlene Harris's world of vampires in True Blood. Or, in Tamlin's case, he takes his role in "helping" Feyre to cross the threshold quite literally and abducts her, forcing her to leave the human world behind in place of the world of Fae.

Now, there are quite a few exceptions to this good guy/mentor rule and they generally occur when the good guy is a childhood friend or sweetheart. Examples include Harvey (TCAOS), Gale (HG), and Malyen (SAB).

When this happens, the good guy often provides the protagonist with a much-needed link to her previous life and/or the ordinary world. He takes on more of a "grounding" role, rather than a guiding one.

But regardless, what these good guys have in common is a fairly standard set of traits. They are protective, have a strong moral compass, and are incredibly loyal to the protagonist.

Furthermore, they are almost always the protagonist's "first love". They offer her the emotional support she needs in order to move forward by making her feel less alone in the world.

Regardless of whether the good guy is a childhood friend or a mentor-like character, his relationship with the protagonist usually marks a time of both innocence and self-discovery. He is a source of love and companionship while the protagonist takes those first few tentative steps into the unknown.

Meeting the Bad Boy

Tests, Allies, and Enemies

The Hero's Journey is, at its essence, a Bildungsroman-like story. Or at least it is in the YA/NA genres. It is a coming-of-age tale, with Crossing the Threshold being a symbol for leaving the child behind in order to discover the adult that awaits.

What follows is a collection of plot beats known as Tests, Allies, and Enemies. This stage of the story is often fraught with missteps and small triumphs, good times and bad times - much the same as adolescence.

And this is where the bad boy comes in.

Sometimes the bad boy manifests as an enemy who the protagonist must face in some kind of test like Spike to Buffy. Other times, he presents as a Temptation beat, like the Darkling does to Alina (SAB), trying to lure the protagonist away from their path.

But regardless of how he makes his entrance, the initial purpose of the bad boy is almost always to bring the protagonist face-to-face with the dangers of this new world.

For example, through Eric, Sookie realises that not all vampires are polite and restrained like Bill. Similarly, Feyre's first encounters with Rhysand show her an even darker side to the Fae.

Even bad boys who are not outright evil still tend to behave in a way that the protagonist finds confronting, like Peeta (HG), whose ruthlessly practical survival tactics disturb the very moral Katniss.

In this sense, the bad boy fashions himself into a symbol of the harsh realities of adulthood. Much as a child might find their first encounter with the cruelty of the world shocking, the protagonist is shocked and appalled by the bad boy.

We're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.

However, it is important to note that the bad boy is usually just one component of the beats involved in the Tests, Allies, and Enemies section. Again, this ties in with my argument that these stories are a Hero's Journey first - with the love triangle simply underscoring that fact.

The friendships that Buffy forms with Willow and Xander are shown to be her two most enduring relationships, while her love interests come and go. In Legendborn, Bree's quest to learn the truth about her mother's death has nothing to do with romance at all. And Sabrina's rivalry-to-friendship arc with Prudence gets significant screen time across multiple episodes and seasons.

During the Tests, Allies, and Enemies stage, the protagonist is usually starting to come into her own. She faces challenges, forms friendships, and encounters enemies. And yes, with love triangles there's usually some lust and romance thrown in there, too.

But the main focus of this stage is that the protagonist is starting to learn who she is. She is becoming more and more powerful with each setback and triumph.

The Death of Innocence

The Ordeal in the Abyss

The Ordeal into the Abyss, also known as The Belly of the Whale, is a plot beat where the protagonist encounters their greatest test thus far.

Rather than this beat being the climax of the story, The Ordeal is generally a challenge that the protagonist must face before the final confrontation or battle - and they must do so alone. It sees them hitting rock bottom and coming face-to-face with their greatest fear, whatever that may be.

This plot beat is a transformative one. It forever changes the protagonist and readies them for the final battle ahead. It is a death of innocence. The moment when the "girl" becomes the "woman", so to speak.

And in this sense, The Ordeal in the Abyss comes with loss and gain in equal measure. Yes, the protagonist is stronger for the experience, but not without cost.

To get to this point, she has been to hell and back. Sometimes literally (cough, cough. Sabrina). The protagonist is now well acquainted with the darkness of this new world but, in order to survive it, she has to absorb some of that darkness into herself.

If you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you.

The aftermath of The Ordeal usually sees the protagonist having conflicting feelings over what she has discovered about herself.

On the one hand, she might relish her newfound power and strength. But on the other hand, she may also be afraid of who she had to become in order to emerge triumphant.

Heartbreak

"Death" of the Mentor

The Death of the Mentor isn't always a literal death, but rather, it is a plot beat that forces the protagonist to stand on their own two feet.

By losing the mentor, the protagonist's safety net is ripped out from underneath them. It places them in a "sink or swim" situation that is critical to their growth as a character.

This is why the relationship with the good guy must either falter or end at some point, even if only temporarily. Their breakup serves as a stand-in for the Death of the Mentor plot beat.

Because despite romance featuring heavily in these stories, there is still an inherent idea within them that there are certain steps in a woman's coming-of-age that she must take alone.

The cause of this breakup is almost always due to the transformation that the protagonist underwent during The Ordeal. The good guy no longer understands her, even though he may want to.

For example, Feyre's experience Under the Mountain sees her outgrow her coddled life with Tamlin. Similarly, when Katniss returns to 12, Gale can't fully comprehend what she went through, nor the role she is being forced to play as a result.

Grief for Lost Innocence

Refusal of the Return

The combination of The Ordeal and the Death of the Mentor take their emotional toll on the protagonist. She mourns for the girl she once was, the loss of her first love, and the ordinary world that is now a stranger to her.

What follows is a low point called The Refusal of the Return. Sometimes this beat sees the protagonist running away from her problems, as Buffy does when she flees Sunnydale after killing Angel.

Other times, The Refusal of the Return is a period of rebellion. Grief manifests itself into rage and the protagonist leans more heavily into that darker side of themselves that they discovered during The Ordeal. Like when Elena turns off her humanity following the loss of her brother.

It is usually during this stage that the bad boy begins to take on a more prominent role. (Welcome back to the plot, bad boys!)

At some point, either during this beat or perhaps earlier, we see a different side to the bad boy. Most often, this occurs when the bad boy shows the protagonist some kind of vulnerability, leading her to second guess her first impression.

In the Darkling's case, Alina recognises his profound loneliness. Sookie witnesses Eric's grief at the loss of his maker, Godric. And Rhysand confides in Feyre about the horrors he endured at the hands of Amarantha.

However, seeing this "other" side isn't just a plot device to justify the protagonist's developing feelings for the bad boy. But rather, it serves as a mechanism through which the protagonist's assumptions and beliefs are thrown into question. Not just about the bad boy, but about the world in general.

Disrupting the protagonist's foundations is essential to nearly all emotionally-driven storytelling. Through shattering the her beliefs - whether it be in a system or person - the narrative is propelled forward as the protagonist is then forced into come to her own conclusions.

And this - THIS! - is where the "good guy / bad boy dynamic" becomes so much more than just a blatant over-simplification of male archetypes pandering to female sexual fantasy.

The dichotomy of "good" and "bad" expands here to represent larger choices that the protagonist has to make. Comfort or danger? Honour or Power? Altruism or ambition?

Furthermore, the protagonist's conflicting feelings about the two love interests underscores the very real push-and-pull we all feel during adolescence. Where we crave the adventure and independence of adulthood while simultaneously mourning the safety and protection of childhood.

And this is why the good guy / bad boy love triangle can be such a great plot device. It's not only fun to read (when done well) but it makes sense that the protagonist might find herself drawn to someone whose darkness matches her own.

Who the bad boy is - and what he has done - creates a safe space for the protagonist to explore this darker side of herself. To rebel. To fall apart. To be selfish for once, instead of selfless.

At a time when others in the protagonist's life, like the good guy or her friends, my judge or simply not understand her, the bad boy offers a reprieve. But whether this reprieve positively or negatively influences the protagonist tends to vary from story to story.

Sometimes he is the one who encourages her Refusal of the Return, as the Darkling does for Alina. Other times, the bad boy helps the protagonist in returning to her path, rather than luring her away from it, by offering her his understanding.

Peeta gets what Katniss is going through in a way Gale never can because he went through it, too. Similarly, Stefan can't provide Elena with the reassurance she needs after becoming a vampire because he has never come to terms with his own loss of humanity - therefore, enter Damon.

Self-Discovery

The Road Back Home

The Road Back Home sees the protagonist emerging from her Refusal of the Return. It is when she embarks on the journey to fully reconcile the girl she once was with the woman she has become. To do this, she needs to confront her trauma from The Ordeal and forgive herself for whatever darkness it might have awakened.

This is usually a gradual process that takes place over many chapters or episodes. In many ways, it is a mirror to the Crossing the Threshold beat. Except this time around, the protagonist is looking inwards not outward - instead of discovering the new world, she is discovering herself.

During this time, the bad boy's relationship with the protagonist is often explored more deeply. Being loved by the bad boy - darkness and all - is usually a precursor to the protagonist beginning to accept this darker side of herself, too.

But a distinction needs to be made here between "accept" and "embrace". The former does not necessitate the latter, and whether or not the bad boy gets his own redemption arc usually serves as the distinction between the two.

In the Darkling's case, he certainly helps Alina to come into her power, but ultimately, Alina rejects the path that he is trying to lead her down. The Darkling might have helped her to accept her darkness, but she does not fully embrace it the way he does.

Other times, when the bad boy gets his own redemption arc, we see a precursor to self-love through their relationship. Because in pursuing her feelings for the bad boy, the protagonist has to reconcile the fact that people are nuanced, and no one is entirely good nor evil. In forgiving the bad boy for his past wrongdoings, the protagonist sees that it is possible to forgive herself, too. Damon and Elena's arc (in the TV adaptation) is a good example of this.

But regardless of where things may or may not go with the bad boy, the next plot beat has nothing to do with romance at all. Now, the protagonist is ready for the final battle.

The Female Protagonist Accepts Herself

Master of Two Worlds

Everything the protagonist has been through has been leading her to this moment. Her triumphs, her defeats. Her discoveries and lessons. Her friends and mentors and lovers.

She's faced evil, maybe even embraced a little of it, and come out stronger and better for the experience. She has finished mourning the child she once was and accepted the woman she has become.

Now she is ready, as a master of both worlds, to face whatever comes next. And we, as readers, now get to enjoy the final battle!

Basically, the protagonist is a certified badass now - and she's going to win.

Now, where the romance goes during or after this plot beat is very, very varied. Sometimes, the protagonist stays with the bad boy, like Feyre does with Rhysand. Other times, the relationship is temporary, like Eric and Sookie. Or, in the case of Buffy, neither the good guy nor the bad boy remains in the picture. In fact, a very deliberate choice was made with her story to avoid an "end-game" romantic pairing.

And the reason why the romance is pretty damn varied is because, well, it doesn't really matter. The romance is the cherry on top of the story, not the whole damn cake.

Conclusion

I understand that love triangles might not be everyone's cup of tea - and that's okay. But to paint the entire trope under the broad strokes of teenage vanity and wish fulfilment is to do it a disservice.

Because for the most part, it isn't just some vapid romance. A lot of the most popular stories within the genre are actually complex YA fantasies in and of their own right, driven by your standard emotionally-driven, coming of age beats. They just happen to feature a female protagonist who falls in love.

Okay, maybe in this example she falls in love a few times. But so what? Getting your heart broken and mended again is a part of growing up, so why shouldn't it have a place in YA/NA fiction?

If young men are allowed to froth over some guy getting bitten by radioactive a spider and getting superpowers, then we can have two sexy vampires pining over the same girl.

80 notes · View notes

getinthehandbasket · 5 months

Text

Book Eric is physically older than Show Eric, yes? We are all agreed?

And Eric was a broad virile Viking warrior.

So. Behold: Eric Northman.

#true blood #southern vampire mysteries #eric northman #eric x sookie #the northman #alexander skarsgard #it really does help that it’s the same actor #he can pillage me any day of the week #skarsgard or Eric #doesn’t matter to me

29 notes · View notes

nostalgiavoid · 1 month

Text

Look from today. Admittedly I just napped in it for most of the day because I'm sick.

#alt fashion #gothic fashion #alternative #alternative fashion #goth enby #southern vampire mysteries #vampire lover #vampires #true blood #eric northman #custom hoodies #gothic #goth goth

13 notes · View notes

somedaylazysomeday · 1 year

Text

SomedayLazySomeday's Masterlist

Hey, friends! Here is the collection of everything I’ve written up to this point. Fics have their own page to keep things neat, and those links are posted under the media to which they belong.

All fics feature a female reader with minimal physical description and no use of ‘Y/N’. All of these works are rated mature or explicit and are not intended for minors. Please take note of the warnings listed on the chapter links for each fic.

Thanks for reading and enjoy!

- Ink

Arcane (2021)

Good Intentions - Silco x fem!reader. - 54.7k words. Reader runs a charitable organization, the Haven, which seeks to help people overcome their Shimmer addiction. Silco soon takes an intense interest in the Haven and the woman who operates it.

Noisy - Viktor x fem!reader. - 7.2k words. Reader is a student at the Piltover Academy and lives in student housing, one floor below Viktor. He’s a bit of an insomniac… and a noisy one at that.

Avengers (2012)

Cold - Loki x fem!reader. - 3k words. Reader is in a casual physical relationship with Loki. When she attends a party at Avengers Tower with someone else, he’s bothered by the idea that she’s ashamed of him. Themes of jealousy and minor monsterfucking.

Beetlejuice

A Deal with a Demon - Beetlejuice x fem!reader. - 13.3k words. Reader is a witch who’s a little down on her luck. She summons a demon for help, but he turns out to be very different from what she expected. Themes of magic, desperation, and monsterfucking.

Black Sails

Captured - Captain Charles Vane x fem!reader. - 9.1k words. Reader disguised herself as a man to cross the ocean, but her ship was captured by pirates who brought her on as a member of their crew. Vane eventually figures out the truth. Dub-con themes in Part One; mind the warnings!

The Boondock Saints

Na Buachaillí - Murphy MacManus x fem!reader, Connor MacManus x fem!reader. - 13k words. Reader is a high school science teacher working temp jobs over Christmas break to help pay for her divorce.

Ex Machina (2015)

Winner Take All - Nathan Bateman x fem!reader. - 11.6k words. Reader knows Nathan from MIT, and they constantly run into each other during trivia night at a local bar. Enemies to friends to lovers vibes.

The Gray Man (2022)

Paranoid - Lloyd Hansen x fem!reader. - 9.7k words. Reader runs into Lloyd and he takes a liking to her. She can’t say the same for him. Dark!fic with themes of non-con. Mind the warnings on this one!

The Hobbit

Dexterity - Thorin Oakenshield x fem!reader. - 14.6k words. Reader sells wool at Erebor’s markets and is familiar with the king, handsome and aloof. But Thorin rapidly warms up when a storm forces her to stay in Erebor overnight…

A Boon - Elvenking Thranduil x fem!reader. - 20.2k words. Reader owns a bar in Lake-Town and is very unimpressed with the Elvenking, even as he slowly works to win her over. Enemies to lovers vibes.

Labyrinth

Dreams - Jareth x fem!reader. - 7.7k words. Reader wished away her college roommate, beat the labyrinth, and resisted the Goblin King. But he isn’t done with her yet… Themes of dark fae, magic, and predator/prey.

Random Jareth Fics - Jareth x fem!reader - 6.8k words. Reader is a teacher who was wished away by a young student. She becomes Jareth’s eyes and ears in the human world, working to keep his legend alive. Over time, she becomes less human, but an occasional need still arises.

Narcos

Informant - Javier Peña x fem!reader. - 2.3k words. Reader has some information about Pablo Escobar and ends up making a different sort of deal. (Similar in tone to Oaths, but I hadn’t quite figured out how to write Javier Peña’s character yet.)

Oaths - Javier Peña x fem!reader. - 11.5k words. Reader is a nurse who treats the Escobar family. She turns information over to the DEA, though she doesn’t care for the agent assigned to her case.

Matter of Perspective - Captain Horacio Carrillo x fem!reader. - 9.6k words. Reader works for the DEA in Columbia and accompanies the Search Bloc to prove one of her theories. Enemies to lovers vibes.

Southern Vampire Mysteries/True Blood

Blood Donor - Eric Northman x fem!reader. - 2.4k words. Reader is a were-animal working for the vampires of a town Eric is visiting. You are sent to feed him.

Star Wars

Target Acquired - Jango Fett x fem!reader. - 9.6k words. Reader is a bounty hunter who often finds herself in direct competition with Jango Fett. They have a deal: whoever catches the bounty sets the terms of their night together.

Pursuit - Boba Fett x fem!reader. - 6.5k words. Reader is a bounty Boba finds, but she must convince him to let her go… even if they both know it’s only temporary.

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

Hunted - Hunter x fem!reader. - 7.3k words. Reader works with the Bad Batch. She has a crush on Hunter that seems one-sided… until a chance encounter with a mysterious substance on a mission. Sex pollen and themes of predator/prey.

Aim - Crosshair x fem!reader. - 9.9k words. Reader works with the Bad Batch and gets stranded with Crosshair after a mission. They won’t make it back to the Havoc Marauder without blowing off some steam. Enemies to lovers vibes in both parts.

Experiment - Tech x fem!reader. - 3.5k words. Tech thinks he can’t be distracted from his work. Reader bets that isn’t true, and she’s willing to prove it.

Stretch - Wrecker x fem!reader. - 13.5k words. Reader and Wrecker are a strong couple, but there are some challenges that come with dating someone so physically large.

Different, But Still Good - TBB!Echo x fem!reader. - 3.4k words. Reader is a sex-positive asexual, unbothered by the ways Echo was changed during his time with the Separatists. They’re both a little surprised when he volunteers to help on an unusually needy day.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars

Bitten - Commander Wolffe x fem!reader. - 13.4k words. Reader has a crush on Broadside, a pilot with the 501st. When it isn’t returned, a helpful stranger encourages her to let Wolffe provide a distraction.

Tied Up in You - Commander Fox x fem!reader. - 9.8k words. Established relationship between Fox and Reader. Sickeningly sweet glimpses at a loving, unlikely relationship.

Misbehaving - Commander Cody x fem!reader. - 9.2k words. Reader is in a relationship with Cody. Their relationship is one of control and boundaries, but they’re both willing and ready to test each other.

Star Wars: Legends

Bodyguard - Alpha-17 x fem!reader. - 9.2k words. Reader is a Senatorial aide, assigned to work for a hated senator who endangers both of their lives with his politics. Fortunately, Alpha is sent to keep them safe.

Gar Cyare Spice Fics - Alpha-17 x fem!reader. - 6.8k words. Assorted spicy chapters of an ongoing fic on my main blog. (Gar Cyare by WanderingInkSplot) Established relationship between Alpha and the fem!reader.

The Boys

Hooked - Billy Butcher x fem!reader. - 8k words. Reader is a tow truck driver sent to tow Butcher's car. He's less than pleased.

The Walking Dead

Arm Candy - Negan x fem!reader. - 18k words. Reader is a Savior and a prospective wife. Negan likes to show her off at meetings, but he is easily the most distracted person in the room.

144 notes · View notes

fangbangerghoul · 2 months

Text

I lied my otp is Eric and Sookie and it'll never change.

(the books do it better)

#eric x sookie #southern vampire mysteries #True blood #charlaine harris

9 notes · View notes

crackinglamb · 3 months

Text

7 snippets, 7 mutuals

Tagged by @theluckywizard, thank you! 💕

Tagging @lilbittymonster, @ir0n-angel, @mordinette, @fogsblue, @pikapeppa, @natsora and @the-desert-dancer. No pressure!

...I actually have almost the right number of WIP's to just use those, but I'll include some posted stuff too. And being super, super long, I'll put it all under a cut.

From WG, ch 63 (Solas/OFC, complete):

“Tell me something of your world, arasha.”

“My parents got divorced when I was ten. That means they permanently ended their marriage. I lived most of the time with my mom, but I spent summers at my dad's. He married again when I was thirteen. Jill, my stepmother, likes to garden.” She shifted away from him as she spoke, rinsing the soap from her back while he watched, listening intently. She took the soap back from him and turned him around, so she could return the favor.

“She planted herbs and vegetables that grew easily where we lived, peas, beans, tomatoes, that sort of thing. But she planted flowers too. I used to help her when I was younger, pulling weeds from the rose bed, trying not to get snagged on the thorns. In the evenings, we'd sit on the back deck and watch the wildlife in their yard. Sometimes there were hummingbirds that came and sipped from her bee balm. They're so tiny, no bigger than a butterfly. And they're quick and shy. You have to stay really quiet if you want to watch them. It always gave us a thrill to see them, especially late in the summer, when they were teaching their fledglings to fly.”

She cupped water in her hands to rinse away the soap and ignored the sting in her eyes. He was motionless under her touch, his head cocked, still listening. “My world is filled with technology, with busyness and noise and everyday chaos. To sit in the garden, perfectly still, to watch hummingbirds takes time and patience. A mindfulness to appreciate nature that isn't the least bit affected by the world around it.” She made a final pass of clean water over his back and then laid her palm against his skin, feeling him breathe. “I haven't seen any hummingbirds here.”

He turned in her arms and drew her close. She rested her head on his heartbeat and let him smooth back her curls, pressing the water out of them until they were springy. “We shall have to find them, you and I.”

From Junkyard Dogs, ch 14 (Hancock/F!SS, complete):

When the music was done, and settlers began drifting off one by one to seek their beds, Nora took his hand and walked with him to the quiet spot where they’d buried Nate. A simple small plinth marked it.

“There are no rituals left,” she said, grazing her fingers over the cut stone, “to mark the passing of those we’ve lost. No comfort in faith, no tokens of remembrance. In this new world, a cemetery is only a place you’ll likely find ferals. The meaning behind it has been lost.” He stood quietly by her side, wondering what she was getting at. “I didn’t want that for Nate. I don’t want that for myself.”

She faced him then, and he could see she’d been crying silently, the tears steaking down her cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumb. She took his hand and pressed something small and warm into it. When he looked, he saw it was a ring of gold.

“Nora…”

“I want you to wear it, and I want you to understand what it symbolizes. It is the union of two people, who have agreed to commit themselves to each other.” She held up the hand bearing the ring’s twin. “I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, any more than I knew what was going to happen that day we stepped into the Vault. So much of my life has ended, or changed beyond recognition. But this idea, at least for me, has not. I once had a dream of spending my life with the man I loved, of raising a family with him, of living out our lives together in harmony and happiness. And it was stolen from me, by Kellogg, by the Institute. Nate is gone, but the dream is not.”

From The Turning Tide (Iron Bull/OFC, WIP):

Mira ducked into her tent to find Bull propped on his elbow on her bedroll, the journal where she’d taken all her notes spread across his hands. It was all in shorthand, of course, the same one she’d used for years working for Leliana. She wasn’t sure if he could read it. She was equally unsure about whether or not she wanted him to. It would make things easier for her as far as explaining what she’d seen, but the disadvantage was that he could send back a far more detailed report to his superiors than she thought she wanted him to have access to.

“How’d he take it?” Bull asked. She would think it was absently given his tone of voice, but she knew him. Half blind or not, he never missed a thing.

“Academically. I don’t think the whole weight of it has hit him yet,” she replied, plucking the journal from his hands as she sat down in the space between his arms. He took the tacit invitation and wrapped them around her. Solid, strong and real. She leaned back against his chest and he held her up. She closed the journal and waved it at him. “Let Sister Nightingale see it first, okay? Then I’ll give you something to report back to Par Vollen.”

“Hmm. How bad was it, Chestnut?”

“In your own words, it wasn’t pretty. And you were right, it wasn’t.”

“Was it a good death?”

“No.” She let her voice turn flat. Because there was no universe in which what happened to him was a good thing. “It was only the best you could make it.”

From Destiny Is Just In the Timing (Varric Tethras/Shae Cadash, WIP):

Hawke was still tacking up when she reached him. He smiled down at her. “You don’t have to see me off.”

“Yes, I do.”

His smile turned a little melancholy, as if he was remembering that morning too. The day he left Kirkwall and she stood in the snow to watch him go. “I suppose there’s a precedent set.”

“Yes.”

He finished packing his mount and knelt down to her. They embraced as tightly as they could bundled up as they were. Fereldan he might be, but even Hawke wore a coat in these mountains. When he stood again, it was with reluctance, the first he’d shown since announcing his intention to leave them. But the decision was made, and none of them could change it now. Weisshaupt was expecting him.

“I’ll see you again, Inquisitor. This isn’t goodbye.”

“I will hold you to that, Champion.” She watched him get into the saddle and made way for the scouts who would be going with him down the trail. Before they left, however, he turned to her a final time and she called up to him. “Write to Fenris. Living, not just surviving, remember? Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Fair weather and open roads, Garrett.”

“And to you, Shae.”

From Right Beside You (Eric/Sookie, WIP):

“You don’t entirely trust me, but you’re not afraid,” he said. Again, it was an observation, not a question. “My house. My things. Yours.” He cocked his head at her. “Are you mine?”

“I’m not.”

“Would you like to be?”

She opened her mouth to give him an automatic ‘no’, but the phrasing made her pause. His tone was so genuine, so earnest. He was actually asking, as if her opinion mattered to him. As if he would respect her wishes, no matter what they were. He seemed to realize that this was something more serious than an offhand inquiry, and let her go. But he didn’t move away, and neither did she. He always loomed over her, he was so tall and broad. And he was accustomed to using his size to intimidate. In all their years of acquaintance, she’d never let it bother her, and that had always seemed to entertain him. So many people feared Eric Northman. She often wondered if that was part of her appeal to him. She had never been one of them.

From Not a Bad Life? (Nine/Rose, WIP):

“Hey, come sit with me. Wearin’ out the floor isn’t going to get us out of here any faster.”

He grumbled a bit, but then he sat behind her, pulling her into the meager shelter of his body heat. They shifted the leather around so it covered her front while he was at her back. His knees rose beside hers and he leaned against the wall. They had a pair of bunks on the other side and a tiny toilet behind a screen, and that was it for the night’s accommodations. She supposed it could be worse; they hadn’t been separated.

She nestled against his hearts, listening to the double thump. As always, it soothed her. “We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes than this.”

“I know. I just don’t like being forced to wait around.”

“You’re so impatient.” Superior Time Lord, indeed.

“Aye.”

She stifled a snicker at the Northern coming out so strongly. “Ya know, you could always try resonating the concrete.”

He huffed against her hair. “Never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Nope. Hey, want you to know something. I wouldn’t trade any of the danger we’ve faced. You know that right?”

“Why not?”

“Because in exchange for it, I got you. You’ve shown me all these things, shown me a better way to live. To be. I wouldn’t give it up for anything. You’ve changed my life.”

From All the Earth and Air series (Lark Cadash/M!Hawke; Lark/Solas, WIP):

Hawke was surrounded by everyone who could fit into the tavern, telling tales and drinking more than a few tankards, judging by the empty ones littering the table. She pushed her way through the crowd, bringing two more with her. He made room for her next to him, sitting sideways on the bench so she was bracketed by his knees even with a polite distance between them. She made sure he ate.

Later, when the tales were all told and the bard was playing soft music to lull the patrons into peacefully finding their beds, they found themselves in a dark corner, nursing one last tankard each.

“Does it come off?” she asked, indicating the stripe of red across his nose and cheeks with a pointed finger. He swiped his thumb over it, grimacing behind his hand for a moment before looking back to her with his typical insouciant expression.

“Are you trying to get under my armor, Lark?” he asked with a sloppy sideways grin and another gulp of his ale.

She smiled back, soft and small, like a private joke. “Bare skin is honest. I have enough masquerading going on around me.”

“And all of them either too in awe of the title or too terrified of your mark to let it fall?”

“Yes.”

He made an effort to sit up straighter, to even out the crookedness of his commiserating look. “I'd ask if you wanted to go to your place or mine, but...well...” He gestured around at the tavern, and the fortress at large. “It seems to all be yours, doesn't it?”

“Come with me,” she said, standing up with barely a wobble and offering her hand to him.

From Some Kind of Resolution, ch 1 (FemShep/Nihlus Kryik, complete):

“Isn't henna a type of ink?”

“Yes, it is. I'm surprised a turian would know that, no offense.”

He gestured at his face. “Call it something that stands out culturally, as a form of marking.”

She nodded, thinking about the N7 tattoo on her upper arm. “Okay, I get it. In my case, it's just short for Jehanne.”

He was giving her a thorough look now. “Jehanne. Would that be Jehanne Shepard?” he asked after a moment.

This is it, she thought. Once they recognize my name, it's all over.

“Yes,” she answered, wary.

“I thought you looked familiar. Commander,” he inclined his head briefly. “You showed remarkable courage and skill at the Blitz. It made you something of a celebrity, didn't it?”

She made a face, equal parts disparagement and accepting. “Yeah.”

“It can be hard to live with.”

“Oh, would you know about that?”

“Some. Turians don't place the same sort of entertainment value on our heroes. Doing one's duty should be enough of a reward. You humans love to gossip, though, and put people on pedestals, if that's the right expression.”

“Ah, yes. Meritocracy, right? And yeah, that's the right expression.”

“You're well informed on the Hierarchy.”

“Alliance,” she said with a shrug of one shoulder. “I've studied your race, its history and whatnot. Well, really, we've gotten a crash course on all the races. It's a bit mind boggling, I'll admit. But...fascinating.”

“Hmm, fascinating,” he echoed her, and his voice had distinctly dropped from polite to interested. She wondered what it would be like...

“You wanna stay here and exchange cultural differences or you wanna get out here and experience some?” she asked boldly. His gaze turned calculating, but he smiled just the same. Without another word he signaled for the check.

#tagged #7 snippets; 7 mutuals #long post #dragon age #fallout 4 #southern vampire mysteries #dr. who #mass effect

8 notes · View notes

thehappysorceress · 5 months

Text

10 Characters, 10 Fandoms

Aw, a floofy bat (adorable name!) tagged me, and well, I love doing stuff like this. Thanks!

And I agree that the tagging thing can feel/be weird, so I'll just leave this open to anyone else who wants to play.

Zatanna - DC Comics

Wynonna Earp - Wynonna Earp (duh)

Miss Marple - Agatha Christie (though I love Poirot)

Pamela Swynford De Beaufort - Southern Vampire Mysteries

Phryne Fisher - Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries

Frank Pembleton - Homicide: Life on the Street

Sophie Devereaux - Leverage

Batman - Batman: The Animated Series

Dutch - Killjoys

Captain Marvel -Marvel Comics

#Zatanna #Wynonna Earp #Miss Marple #Agatha Christie #Southern Vampire Mysteries #Miss Fisher #H:LotS #Leverage #Batman #B:tas #Killjoys #Captain Marvel #10 Characters 10 Fandoms

12 notes · View notes

annyankers · 1 month

Text

We all love true blood!pam but i need you to understand that book!pam is a like 20yo looking victorian english rich bitch who dresses like a wealthy republican soccer mom, READS ADVICE COLUMNS LIKE DEAR ABBY AND IS ONE CAMERA AWAY FROM A FULL BLOWN PRANK CHANNEL WITH HOW MUCH SHE TORMENTS ERIC

#svm #show pam lacks book pams maniacal glee for life and its like her one flaw hdncndndndnx #book pam is an agent of chaos #southern vampire mysteries #true blood #tb

6 notes · View notes

televangelist666 · 1 year

Text

Put me on the back of your white horse all the way to the chapel ♡🦷♱

#southern gothic #ethel cain #photography #polaroid #photo edit #preachers daughter #vintage #america #church #american aesthetic #western #instant portraits #instant photography #southern aesthetic #aestheitcs #chapel #southern vampire mysteries

22 notes · View notes

pearl-stonecutter · 1 year

Text

Eric Northman my beloved. i forgot how goddamn funny you are

#living dead in dallas #sookie stackhouse #southern vampire mysteries #charlaine harris #eric northman

26 notes · View notes

leftingbadly · 3 months

Text

between blood and barren homes. | godric of gaul

Listen. Um. this isn't proofread and it's almost 3am and i have godric brain rot now (AHEM THANK YOU TO A CERTAIN ANNON) and im so sad and soft for this man and someone sEDATE ME-- this is kind of a spin off slash continuation slash re-writing slash idk man fuck you im tired--of Man or Monster like it's the same lady person thingymabob whatever i dont have to explain myself to you

Pairing: Godric x reader

An ink tattoo stained his skin, peaking from the confines of a grey cotton sweater. She had seen imprints of them littered along his skin at the church, where he had been dressed in white linen clothing. Did he always dress like that? She wondered.

The vampires of Bon Temps often adorned leather, skin-tight to admit status or, perhaps, feel the pressure and heat of their atmosphere in the ways they had lost since their becoming. But Godric was different here, in that regard, in so much as that he seemed to want to relinquish himself of the world’s weight in whatever manner he could. There was so much to tell in the way a person dressed themself, there was so much to tell still in all the ways Godric held himself. Her eyes wandered from where he sat, on that golden white chair, a seat fit for a king were it not anyone but him who sat upon it.

Stan approached and spoke, she could hear them from where she stood, but not see his face. “Welcome home, Sheriff. We are all very relieved.”

Stan Baker could have perhaps afforded himself a bit more of that relief to his tone. She thought that perhaps if someone thought he was more bothered by the entire situation, they wouldn’t be far off. She could remember the cowboy’s booming voice in the church, the anger in his voice as he challenged his Sheriff’s verdict. Maybe he had a problem with authority, or maybe his problem just lay with the way Godric ran things here in his nest. Maybe he thought he could do it better. Her head tilted as she watched him leave the front of the long line up to Godric’s chair, her eyes trailing his movements, lifting to meet his gaze. It had been trained on her since he turned from Godric, watching her as she leaned against the wall, as she watched Godric—as she watched him now.

Stan almost moved towards her, almost opened his mouth to speak to her, almost pulled her aside to have those words with her that he had promised earlier. If only it wasn’t for the increasing pressure of something against his back. Nothing physical, no, the stare of a gaze, of knives incarnate, of a piercing something—warning, perhaps. A threat? No, but something closer to a promise. He didn’t turn around to look at the boy-king who had still been sitting, the movement of her eyes from his to a spot behind him told Stan all he needed to know. He passed by her with not even a single, second look.

“Hello,” she greeted him later, after she had moved outside of the house. “You stood up.”

“You would not come to me.” She laughed lightly, her system shutting down, then resetting. Every word of his tongue rewired every part of her brain. There was something she had become used to with Eric, and even the other vampires of Bon Temps and Dallas, that every conversation with them was a dance, a play to be held. But with Godric, it was different. He wore all his truths in those wide, open eyes.

“I feel special.” She murmured, her eyes refusing to look at his. There was something in her she knew would crumble if she looked at him. But he looked at her, his entire body turned to her as he looked down at her, his head tilted, his arms hanging loosely and unused at his side. Were he a human man, perhaps he would have crossed it, perhaps he would have tried to look where she was looking. Perhaps he would not have come to see her at all. Were he a human man, this would be different. Perhaps they would have spoken about something else, something about the weather, about the party, about—

“Are you?” Were he not himself, this would not be happening.

“Why did you forgive Hugo?” Her question retaliated his. “I’ve seen vampires kill humans for less of an infraction.”

“Why do you believe I did it?”

“Stan Baker thinks you soft,” she blinked as she tilted her head. “Weak. He thinks you hold too much empathy for humans in your age. Perhaps he believes they’d finally convinced you that you all are the monsters they believe you to be. He thinks you did it because you’ve grown fond of them. Isabella Beaumont believes you a kind man, more human than humans, that you hold an empathy and understanding for our kind she wishes to emulate one day. She believes you’ve done it because you are merciful.”

“And you?”

“I think you did it because you’re tired.” Her final verdict caused a small, amused smile to begin festering on his lips.

“I was watching you while you did it,” she relented. “I’ve been watching you all night, really.”

“I’ve noticed you,” he admitted. “But it seems now you can’t meet my eye.”

“No,” she shook her head, staring harder into the eyes of the night. The stars that glimmered above them, the music and chatter that drafted like wind from the inside of the house—there were some people who moved from the confines of its walls to escape into cooler air, but when they noticed the pair, particularly the look Godric gave them, they scurried back inside without a moment’s thought. He had been waiting to hear this human’s words and thoughts and the way she had taken notice of him since they’d met in that church, now, he would not let anything else deter him. “You’re far too intimidating to speak the truth to your face.”

“And what truth would that be?”

When she didn’t respond, he waited.

And when he grew tired of waiting, he spoke again.

“Would you rather not tell me?” His head tilted to look at her, but she remained quiet again. Perhaps it was because she was thinking, but perhaps, and he hoped this was not the case, that she had finally come to her human senses, and the prey drive kicked in. Perhaps in her silence, her body caught up to her mind, and she realized now that the silver around her neck and the silver caressing her fingers would do oh, so, precious little to deter a determined vampire. “Do you take pleasure in seeing me beg to hear your voice?”

“Is that what this is?” She turned to him finally, and her dark eyes met his glistening ones. Always glistening. And she had to steel herself to keep the contact their eyes held. “Have you come here to hear the musings of a human girl? What I might think of this entire situation? Of vampires, and hunters, and men who deem themselves greater than the will of a God that had forsaken them so long ago?”

And her anger rose now, quicker than anything he could have imagined. It washed over him for a moment as he was deterred from her, shocked at how silently it seemed to have crept into the night. Inside of the house, he could feel his progeny stir as well. Eric could sense each and every single atom of his maker’s will shift as the woman stared at him, finally. Finally.

“To berate me for my musings of this world? Of your world? I’d gotten enough of that from your offspring, thank you. You come out here and you ask me these questions as though you yourself do not already know the answers. Know what it is that I will say. Would you hear me say it, then?”

Her body faced his, her anger, too, stared at him now. “That when you forgave Hugo for his human folly it seemed more that you were chiding a child for not sharing its toys? That it angered me that you regarded so little of your own safety you would forgive someone because they were loved by another, who you held close to you. Do you truly regard yourself so little?”

“That is not why—”

“No, of course it isn’t. Right? You’d forgiven him because it was meaningless, wasn’t it? To fight and bicker and extend the situation more than it should have gone on. To bring more bloodshed into this house and your home and among people you swore to protect. You forgave Hugo because you are tired, and you cannot bear the thought of bringing a single ounce more of heartache into this world than you already have.”

A beat passed between them, and she turned from him.

A frustrated sigh escaped her. Thin hands came up to squeeze at the bridge of her nose, eyes shut as she tried to suppress the oncoming migraine. She didn’t feel the movement in the air when Godric left, but she knew when Eric took his place.

“You shouldn’t have brought me here.” Her words were defeated.

Eric’s words greeted her angrily. “You’re supposed to help. Not make him worse.”

“Eric!” Another voice called out to the man in front of her, charging up to him from the house to the grass where they stood.

“Not now, Miss Stackhouse. I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh, you better get in the mood after all you’ve made me do. Why is it that—”

“Not,” his face turned to the waitress, his voice growled. “Now.”

But Sookie Stackhouse wasn’t a woman easily deterred. She was a woman in customer service, and more so, the other woman mused, she was all too familiar with vampires and their mood swings. She made to leave, but Eric Northman grabbed onto her arm and forced her to stay. “What did he say?”

“Weren’t you listening?” The woman shot back. “Don’t you have a connection to him that you can tap into, can’t you hear his thoughts?”

“I can’t.” Eric supplied after a moment of silence, and both women looked at him with a mixture of shock and curiosity. “He shuts me out when he’s with you.”

“Godric?” Sookie asked after a moment’s breath passed. “But why would he do that, he’s your maker isn’t he? What’s going on here?”

“It seems the issue Mister Northman hired you for stemmed rather more deeply than simply locating his maker.” The woman stares into the wide eyes of the vampire-Viking. “Your maker is found now, but a part of him is still missing, isn’t it?”

“She’s like you.” Eric turned to the waitress, as he explained the other woman’s presence here.

“I’m a development fault,” the woman seethed in reply. “A malfunction in genetic code. I’m not like her.”

“My informant assured me that you were helpful.” Eric shot back, refusing to take defeat as the final outcome. “We will stay here until the end of days if that’s what it takes.”

“Your informant was wrong!” The woman leaned in closer, hoping to whichever god that was listening that no other vampire could hear her. “The vampire I helped already wanted to live, it needed a sign. It needed something to grab onto, a rope, a buoy—a thought. I’m not a miracle worker, Eric Northman, my abilities cannot save a man who believes he is the incarnation of sin.”

“All this is about Godric?” Sookie asked as she stepped closer. The three of them stood now in a ring, an inner circle of people too desperate to accept their truths. That Eric was losing the only part of his family he’d had left, that Sookie was a part of something bigger than she’d originally thought—and the other woman, that she was more than a simple girl with kind words to tell strangers. “What’s wrong with him? He wants to die?”

“He’s succumbing to a fate he believes is befit for a thing like him.” The woman said, her eyes never leaving the ones of the vampire still clutching onto her. “All those years of grief have built the foundation of a thing that cannot be toppled, Eric Northman, by what I possess.”

“You have the ability to bring vampires closer to their human state—something that many a vampire have been searching for for longer than your human history dates back to. If you don’t help me, you can be assured that I will spread this knowledge to every line of communication among my networks, and I will sell you to the highest bidder.”

The woman scoffed at him, and he tightened his grasp on her arm. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“No?” He mused. “And why’s that?”

“You wouldn’t do that,” she mused again, and her words floated to him like something on a dream. Something like water rushed, like smoke inhaled through a chimney passage, there was a warmth that fluttered across the open air between them that caressed him in a way he had not felt since ages ago. The open fire, the roast of a meal hunted, there was laughter in her eyes he had remembered seeing in his mother’s, a scream of joy filtered through there, too, jovial like a baby’s laugh. He had a sister once, for some odd reason, he remembers her now. “That is not the man you are.”

And then a wolf’s howl. A scratching of claws against silver—and death rushes over him.

He was quick to retract his hand from where it gripped her. Quicker, still, to break his eyes from hers. Fuck, he thought. Fuck!

Sookie witnessed this all. Her mind was a soft hum between the vampire she could not hear, and the woman whose mind sounded as though the soft hum of a jewelry box never ceased its song. There were hummingbirds and the sound of rain that pelted through her thoughts, Sookie wondered, if all that calm was a front for something far more sinister. Without a thought she reached forward to touch the woman’s skin, and without thought her mind flashed with images of ruins and ash. A striking image of a city burned, skin singed to the bare bones of grief and haunt, a ghost fluttered there from her to hers, and Sookie’s mind far more than the shrapnel of war was now laced with the torment of what came after. The woman before her was a survivor of all things she had not witnessed.

Sookie saw for most parts images of blood, teeth sunken into tender flesh, vampires who hated the taste of blood and craved the heartbeat of it along their teeth. Images flashed, of vampires ripping their own fangs out, images flashed, of humans hanging from dead trees linked to more dead roots to more dead soil. Sookie hunched over, her body turned as the contents of her stomach wretched itself up through her body and onto the grass behind her.

And the woman looked on, as the empath reached her capacity, and the vampire-Viking was made afraid. She turned away from them with a sigh, and her eyes grew heavy as she began her walk from them.

“You should not have brought me here to him, Viking.”

But Godric found her later. And he stood behind the threshold of her now opened hotel room door. And she stared at him for a moment before her head turned towards the room in an inviting gesture.

For a longer moment than what she would have normally allowed, the two of them stood in the room alone together as silence pressed on. It had been some time since they had come from his home since she had showered off the blood and the gore since they had had to come to terms with what had happened.

“I came to see that you were alright.” Godric confessed, and she stayed silent as his words littered the space between them.

“I am glad that you were unharmed during the attack.”

“It was an unfortunate matter, I should have taken it into consideration.”

“I fear my faith in humankind was somewhat miscalculated.”

A pause. Were she sub-human, perhaps she would have heard the smallest intake of a breath he did not need.

And then—

“Tell me what you saw.”

“Did Eric tell you why I was brought here?” She asked finally, snapping at him. Or to him. She didn’t know. Her arms came to hold her, and her eyes stared at him in anger. He knew now, that it was not directed at him. He knew now that for all the insight she had, she could not understand herself half as much as the way her abilities allowed her to understand others.

“He did.” He said. “Tell me what you saw.”

And her eyes shut in pain. She remembered now what had happened at the house. The argument, then she had went inside. Sookie followed after, then Eric. They had gone back to what they had been doing, and she was left wondering all the things she wishes she could not. There was so much hurt in a single room, and the smells of the pasts of all the vampires that littered around her almost made her dizzy. She could smell their desperation in the air. And then something else overtook it.

A loud beeping, a yell. Then an explosion.

Godric’s body was over hers in an instant. Quicker than she could have thought he’d shelter her, his eyes boring into hers, his body hit with the shrapnel and splinters of wood and house foundation. He grunted once, then twice as metal sunk into his body. It didn’t hurt him, she didn’t think. But there was a twinge of discomfort that hit him at the intrusion of foreign material into his body.

He lifted himself off from her the moment the explosion and its aftermath ended. He made sure she was alright, and then he left to lick the wounds of his home.

“How many died?” She asked him as they stood in the hotel now, hours later.

“Too many.”

“How many are wounded?”

“Tell me what you saw.”

“A boy!” she snapped at him eventually. Her arms tightened around her again.

Her mind brought forth the image he requested. Of a boy standing in the midst of a desolated living room, walls racked with blood dripping and smothered, she could smell and taste it in the air. An explosion of death, of something claiming life, of a thing used to destroy all that was left of a people who mocked it.

“A boy standing there alone,” because he was alone. Godric’s vision stood out to her as she shut her eyes, and she saw him taking note of all the destruction that had befallen his home. “You looked around like it was the first battle you had ever fought, a sorrowful madness, empty grief, the shell of a house haunted.” He moved through the area like he had seen the same image a thousand times before, and none at all. She watched him as he had walked over broken planks and splattered bodies. “You stood there like the brokenness of that home was your birthright.”

And those words in particular punched him in his chest. In his gut, somewhere, something dropped to its knees and wept. “Like there was nothing else you were owed but this.”

Were he human, perhaps, he would have missed the beginning of her tears. “Why do you believe that your ending must be ill-defined?”

“There is no other way to make amends for the wrong I have caused.”

“You are not only the sum of the wrong you had done!”

A pause haltered their conversation. A whisper of a thing that had been long dead and buried resurfaced between them now. But she would not give in so easily.

“Pale lips,” she whispered. “Blue fingernails, the red beneath your eyes. Even to a passer-by, it’s evident you have been mistreating your body. Eric told me you refused to feed. How long has it been? Dawn has come and your eyes droop and yet here you are, being verbally abused by a human girl who’s seen less than a fraction of your lifetime. How often do you forego sleep as well?”

He smiled at that. Yes, he thought. Less than a fraction but with an amount of grief to challenge my own.

He watches her as she moves to grab the remote. Shutting the sun-tight blinds to protect him from the sun yawning. Even in her anger, the thought of him. His eyes moved to her, watching her body as she commanded it, from her legs to her arms, to the movement of her eyebrows to her mouth. Everything about her enchanted him forward, and he heeded the command of his heart to grow closer to her. She noticed too late, and he was reaching out to hold her face in his hands.

“Why is it that you care so much?” His head tilted in curiosity. Maybe he wanted to know if it was because of what she was, maybe he would have accepted any lie she told him.

“Eric brought me here to help you.”

“But why does your failure to do so upset you this much?”

His words were like a punch and a kiss dancing. Rare was the occasion brought that she failed. Rarer even still was the comfort that failure was okay.

Her hands lifted to hold onto his wrists, and her head fell forward as tears threatened to spill. A lump formed in her throat, and she wondered how she could tell him of all the things her abilities allowed her to see in him. Instead, her hands lifted to trace along the tattoos of his chest. Along his collarbone, she traced the Roman-like patterns. A protection circle around his throat. Chief, warrior, nobleman. Perhaps. Perhaps if they had more time, she could have asked him about it. Perhaps if they had more time, she could have known him more.

Soft hands lifted and moved, he stood back from her for a moment after she tugged at his sweater, and he held her gaze as he lifted it over his head. There was something between them merging, something forming and twisting like a glob of material in space, forming to the vibrations of the universe around it. He dropped the cloth to the ground, he stepped closer to her. She touched the tattoo along his arms, those ancient words on his right one, palm laying flat and circling, those water-shaped markings of his left one.

He held her close as she pushed her chest to his. Skin barely meeting skin. Her hands trailed down the expanse of his spine, a thrill rushed through him, nails raking softly from the top of the serpent to the bottom, at the base of his spine and the small of his back—where she scratched up and held her hand to the brand on his shoulder. A slave’s marking. A deed of having had been owned. There was no escaping all the past selves of himself he had been, beneath the microscope of her hand.

“Tell me what you see.”

His voice was begging now. She could not resist it.

“Too much,” her words whispered against the skin of his throat. “I wish we had time.”

“We have time.” He lied.

“Do you swear?”

And she wondered when it was that things between them had changed. Perhaps somewhere between the first or last insult she had spewed at his face. Perhaps, maybe even, between the first and second kind act. When she had saved him in the church—when he had saved her in his home. There was a poetry to that, that in the end Death was still an angel of God. Still in service to the being that had created them both.

“Godric?”

“Yes?”

“You deserved a kinder world.”

#Godric #True blood #Godric imagine #godric x ofc #godric x reader #godric true blood #southern vampire mysteries #true blood imagines #vampire #vampires #fanfiction #writing #angst

49 notes · View notes