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ghostbustermelanieking · 3 years

Note

AU of the Archives finding out Jon is being held by the Circus (while he’s still being held captive there?)

anon, thank you for giving me an excuse to write something like this; i am always looking for 101 h/c lol. warning for discussions/depictions of the kidnapping scenario in 101.

1. They only really find out by accident. More specifically, they find out because Melanie is snooping around the Institute (already searching for solutions to her being trapped there), and finds the tape, somehow, the one where Nikola talks to Elias. She only needs to listen through once before they put the pieces together: Georgie told her Jon left. They haven't seen Jon since—and sure, he wasn't in much before, but—this long? And that is Jon's voice on the tape: muffled and panicked and indecipherable, but still pretty obviously him.

Melanie shows it to the others, and the tape isn't even finished before Martin is demanding they have to find him, they have to find him now, panic flashing visibly in his eyes—he's been gone for WEEKS, and why didn't I notice, why didn't any of YOU notice, and don't fucking try to argue with me, Tim, Jon has been KIDNAPPED and they're going to KILL HIM— And Tim looks hurt, at this insinuation, is snapping back before Martin can even finish, I wasn't going to ARGUE, Martin, Christ, and he hasn't told them about his brother yet, but he immediately went pale when he heard Nikola's voice, heard her going on about skinning Jon, and they all saw it, and Melanie and Basira are putting it together before Martin is: Tim's in, too.

Basira's the one who says We need to find him in the end, but Martin and Tim have already decided by then.

2. In the end, Elias is the one who tells them where Jon is. (After some persuasion.) He hadn't intended to originally, but obviously they already know, and obviously no one is going to be focused on finding the ritual site, and sloppy work won't benefit anyone, much less the whole world. (And if the rescue goes messy, and it ends up benefitting the whole of his plan, well—)

They take a car and ride up there, the four of them. (There's some brief argument as to whether or not they all should go, but Martin's obviously going, and Tim doesn't back down, and Basira insists she can get them in and out, and Melanie isn't saying no…) It's a long, tense car ride, hours of mostly silence broken up by panic on Martin's behalf. (He's still berating himself, even if he won't berate the others—how could they not have known, how could he not have noticed, how has Jon been held prisoner somewhere for weeks and Elias didn't goddamn tell them, and it's been so long, and what if it's too late, what if they're too late, what if he's already dead—) And then, eventually, Tim breaks the silence. By telling them what happened to his brother. (It's NOT a statement, he says, but it feels like one anyway, and no one speaks until he's done. He sounds choked up by the end, furious and fearful and grieving all at once—I didn't think they would come for—I-I didn't think Jon would…)

The images from Tim's story loom over well enough, along with the half-remembered sounds of the tape sent to Elias. We're going to use every piece of you. I thought you'd make a lovely frock. The imagery is grotesque and Martin is sick with it, leaning against the car window, hoping with a fierce desperation that they aren't too late.

3. They aren't too late. And they get in without being detected, somehow. (Afterwards, Basira will keep saying that it was too easy, the whole thing felt too easy, and Tim will say tiredly, "Who the fuck cares? We got out.")

Jon's woken up by someone whispering his name—quiet, with a gentle subtlety that the Stranger more than lacks. It's Martin—this becomes clear as soon as he opens his eyes, although it takes a moment for everything to slot into place, the reality of Martin leaning over him, eyes wide with concern. "Oh, Christ, you're all right," Martin says, his voice shaking. "Thank God. I-I thought…" He stops then, and goes to work on getting Jon free.

"Martin?" Jon hisses as soon as the gag is gone, and then—Tim, working at the ropes on his legs, Melanie and Basira towards the door. "What—wh-what are you doing here?"

"What are you talking about?" Melanie says, her voice as muted as the others. "We found you, that's what we're doing here."

"Y-you can't be here," says Jon, still stuck in the panic of the past few weeks. "They'll kill you, you can't be here…"

"We're already here," says Tim. "We're not leaving you behind."

Jon's eyes jerk between the four of them frantically before landing back on Martin—Martin, who looks like he's nearly on the verge of tears, who says, "We're getting you out of here, Jon," and helps him to his feet. Jon grips at his hand as he's pulled to his feet, the relief washing through him in waves—he hadn't realized until then how much he'd expected never to be rescued or found—how much he'd thought he would die here.

4. They get hotel rooms rather than driving back—it's a long drive, and Jon looks nearly dead on his feet, and it makes sense. Jon sleeps for nearly sixteen hours straight after a long-running shower, and the others mostly alternate between sleeping and watching for agents of the Circus. (No one ever comes.)

Melanie calls Georgie to let her know. Tim leaves Elias a nasty voicemail. Martin goes to get breakfast from a store nearby, and take-out tea, and when Jon wakes up, they eat clustered in the hotel room to mostly silence.

Jon says, at one point, I didn't think anyone would come. He says it mostly to the floor, when the others are out of the room, and it's just him and Martin drinking tea that isn't nearly as good as the homemade stuff. He clears his throat and adds, Thank you for… for coming, Martin, I…

Martin tenses beside him immediately in immediate horror, says, Of course we came; of course we came, Jon, I don't know why—I-I am so sorry, I'm SO sorry we didn't come sooner, we didn't know… We didn't know, I'm so sorry.

It doesn't matter, says Jon. It doesn't matter, just… thank you. Thank you for coming, I… i-if anything had happened to you, I wouldn't have…

They're leaning together, almost unconsciously, their arms pressed together, and Martin says, I'll always come. If… I-I hope this never happens again, Jon, b-but I… I'll always come.

Sitting in the dim-lit hotel room, Jon believes him. He knows immediately that he's telling the truth, and he says, I will, too, and he means it just as much.

5. The whole experience is a catalyst to everyone talking more, because how could it not be? There's a difference between someone saying they were kidnapped and actually hearing about it—actually seeing it. The drive back leaves plenty of time to make peace, or something like it.

Jon starts spending more time in the Archives, in the weeks before he has to leave again. He and Martin have lunch almost every day; sometimes the others join them. Melanie calls and tells Georgie what's happened, and Georgie immediately reaches out to make sure Jon is okay. And Jon and Tim make their peace, more or less, gradually—not all at once, but gradually. (Tim hugs Jon when they get back and says he's glad he's okay. Jon offers an apology a few days later, for everything they haven't had the chance to talk about, and the recorders come on, and neither of them mention it. And nearly a week later, Tim tells Jon about what happened to his brother.) And it's something, some step in the right direction, towards healing.

#\ (ツ) /#tma au #tma fic #sort of #i wrote this

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

Text

A Heartbeat Away | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x gender neutral!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.7k

✦ based off the song I Should’ve Kissed You by One Direction

✦ summary — Damian is haunted by the fact that he only said good night when he should have kissed you.

✦ warnings — light angst, mentions of pregnancy (a minor character is pregnant), mentions of food and beverages, fluff.

✦ author's note i — randomly remembered my obsession with this song and couldn’t get it out of my head.

✦ author's note ii — the parts in italics are flashbacks.

════════════════════════

Ever since he started living with Jason, Damian found himself straying away from the things that held him back.

His life would never be normal, but in hindsight, he could admit things weren’t as bad.

The fallout with his father came crashing down in the worst moment possible — Dick was dead and his relationship with Tim wasn’t the best.

As little as he knew Jason, he was sure he could trust him so he asked for his help instead of somebody else’s.

And Jason didn’t say no. Whether he had the heart to do it or not was irrelevant because he still took Damian in and helped him find a job.

He hated said job.

‘It’s a job,’ you had told him, ‘you’re not supposed to like it.’

You.

Damian rarely stopped thinking about you. Calling it infatuation felt like an understatement, and yet he couldn’t find a better word to describe the whirlwind of emotions you gave him.

He still remembered the day he met you for the first time.

Jason paced in the living room, perking up every time he heard a noise outside the apartment.

You’re driving me insane,” Damian said from the small dining table.

”Roy’s late.”

”Why are you surprised?”

Jason glared at him.

Both of them heard somebody stand on the other side of the door. Their steps didn’t sound like Roy’s.

Pulling the door open, Jason was ready to snap at whoever had knocked.

“You ordered something and gave my apartment number instead of yours. Again.”

Damian didn’t recognize the voice so he slanted his body to the side to see who it was. He couldn’t stop staring.

”I’ll make it up to you.”

”Jay,” you sighed. “I’ve told you before, you just need to tell me beforehand if you don’t want things to arrive to your apartment. My roommate could have opened it.”

Damian chuckled, a single elbow resting on the table.

Jason craned his neck. “You think this is funny?”

”I think you’re a moron.”

”Shut up and come meet our neighbor.”

Damian didn’t have to be told twice. He stood up with an eagerness he hadn’t felt since Jason texted him to let him know he had found the materials so he could build a suit and go back to patrol.

”This is my brother Damian.” Jason turned around to place the package under the table next to the door.

He knew you’d either seen him before or heard about him the moment his eyes landed on you. People always had a visceral reaction when they met him, some found him attractive, others attempted to ask for favors, and some recoiled in fear.

But you didn’t. You held his gaze and stood in the same spot you had been since you knocked on the door.

And whether it had been in a newspaper or a gossip forum, he was glad you knew something about him. There was something about the way you stared at him that screamed for him to trust you. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

“Nice to meet you,” you politely said, smiling at him.

Stunned by the fact that you hadn’t mocked him, and now assuming it wasn’t wishful thinking after all, he tilted his head. Most people did mock now that he wasn’t under his father’s wing.

Still, he said, “Likewise.”

Your smile became warmer. “I live three doors down the hallway in case you need anything.”

He felt a pang in his chest at the gesture. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Weird sensations in his chest were normal when he was around you. Befriending you was easier than he’d ever admit and talking to you became the highlight of his day.

The pangs in his chest turned into a fluttering sensation in a heartbeat. You’d make him feel breathless when you did the smallest things — when you smiled at him, when you complained about other neighbors with him, when you asked about his day.

He felt special. For once in his life for being the closest he had ever been to resemble a normal person.

And he also remembered, quite painfully, that night he let you walk away without mustering the courage to tell you —or show you— the way you made him feel.

The deserted hallway was yet another proof of how easy it was to lose track of time around you.

Damian hadn’t expected to get back home past midnight or to skip patrol, but 1:00 AM turned into 2:00 and he couldn’t part from you no matter how many times he tried to remind himself to do it.

He hadn’t even expected to enjoy the state fair as an adult, yet he couldn’t remember a time he had more fun than that evening.

You gazed up at him, waiting for him to either do or say something. Anything other than stare at you in the middle of the hallway.

You had already thanked him for making you company, there was no way you’d say anything. And he froze.

“Good night,” he sputtered.

Your brow twitched. “Night.”

He watched you unlock your door and get inside your apartment with a heavy heart.

You moved out a couple months ago and he hadn’t seen you since then. The texts the two of you exchanged were sporadic and they bordered in formal.

He should have kissed you, he was aware of that. And to make matters worse, Jason chewed him out when he found out.

He still looked for you every morning he left the apartment as though you’d remember you had forgotten something. That you had forgotten him.

Jon said it was for the best, that somebody as sweet as you didn’t deserve to carry with his baggage.

Damian knew his best friend to be right, but how could he let go of you that easily when you made him see he was more than his mistakes and regrets?

He didn’t need anybody to carry him, he could drag himself anywhere if needed.

He simply hated the hole in the pit of his stomach every time he entertained the possibility of having to see you one day with somebody else because he wasn’t brave enough to say what he needed to let out.

The idea of being out of time was killing him slowly, so naturally, he’d sought a quick death.

════════════════════════

You gasped upon opening the door. You weren’t expecting anybody to be outside — much less Damian Wayne.

“Oh!”

“Hi,” he softly greeted.

You blinked rapidly. “Did you need anything?”

“I wanted to... Are you on your way out?”

“I’m just dropping this off for my mom.” You momentarily lifted the bags you were carrying in one hand. “She lives nearby.”

He spared a look to the reusable bags in your grasp. “Is she sick?”

“Pregnant,” you explained, playing with your keys. “It’s high risk due to her age so we take as much care of her as we can.”

Damian walked backward, allowing you to come out of the apartment and lock the door.

As you pushed the door to make sure it was locked, he asked, “Would you care for some company?”

Turning around, you gave him a small smile. “That would be lovely.”

He reached over. “Let me help.”

“They’re not heavy.”

“I insist.”

”Okay.” You handed him the bags and took the initiative to lead the way.

He reached your side immediately.

Not knowing what else to do, aware you’d let something slip if you didn’t find something, you made small talk. “How’s Jason?”

“As annoying as always.”

You still remembered when he meant those words, when he complained about Jason and how often they butted heads. His tone was different now, lighter, almost playful.

“Good to know some things never change.”

You walked the streets with an ease you hadn’t been able to in years. Growing up in that neighborhood meant which streets to avoid, and sadly, most of them were unsafe.

There were many things you could have asked or said, perhaps apologize for being cold while texting.

You were in your right to be cold and you could have just not answered, but you wanted to keep contact even though you were hurt.

Damian was great company. It was a shame you misread the entire situation and couldn’t go back to chat with him like before.

It took you a few attempts to get them to talk comfortably, but once he was able to, he didn’t look back. He even gossiped with you.

Stopping in front of the house, you looked around to make sure your mom had the windows open. Once sure, you walked up the front steps.

You withdrew a single key from your back pocket and extended your other hand so Damian would give you the bags.

The floors were recently mopped which meant your aunt had visited that day.

“It’s me,” you yelled so your mom wouldn’t get up. It was her time to be watching TV in the living room.

Carrying the bags towards the kitchen, you caught the jingle from a commercial.

You filled a glass with water and added a couple of ice cubes.

Your mom was comfortably sat on a recliner, feet up and remote control on her thigh. “Hurry back before it gets dark.”

“Don’t worry, a friend of mine walked me here.” You handed her the glass. “Do you need anything else?”

She ignored your question as she took the glass. “Who is it?”

“You don’t know him.”

“Him?” She lifted an eyebrow.

You hadn’t mentioned a guy to her in almost two years now, her surprise was understandable. “Not now.”

“Oh, so it is like that?”

Maybe it was and maybe that was the issue. She wouldn’t blame you if she knew him like you did, if she heard him laugh or saw him change his demeanor to accommodate to somebody else’s sensibilities.

You didn’t think you’d witness anything remotely close to that when you met him for the first time, but you learned really quickly that Damian was full of surprises.

“I’ll call in the morning in case you need something. I’m working ’til 3:00 PM tomorrow.”

“It’s okay.” She took a sip of water. “Did you bring anything sweet?”

“Homemade muffins and a few chocolate bars. Do you want one now?”

She shook her head. “I’ll wait after dinner.”

You kissed her cheek. “Call me, please.”

“Go, go.” She ushered you to go with a gesture of her hand. “Don’t make your friend wait.”

It was your time to ignore her comment.

Damian was sat on the front steps when you came out, looking up at the darkening sky.

“Is everything alright?” you asked in a whisper as to not scare him.

“No.” He shook his head and stood up. “I mean, yes. How’s your mother?”

“She’s good. Having fun watching reality TV.”

Damian squinted. “Is reality TV really that entertaining?”

“It’s mindless stuff, but it’s fun sometimes. You get to judge other people’s lives without feeling remorse because it’s most likely fake.”

The walk back was way shorter and you didn’t want to part. It was time to swallow your pride and your feelings for him.

He didn’t part ways with you at the building entrance. He walked beside you until you reached the elevator — Damian extended his arm to keep the doors open and allowed you to get in first. He followed suit.

You turned the lights on with Damian on your tail. He did wait for you to invite him in, but you were sure both of you knew there was no way you wouldn’t.

“I made muffins. Do you want one?”

Damian nodded.

You guided him to the dining table where a trippy vase in pastel colors rested with flowers.

He looked around the apartment as he walked towards the table. As he sat down, he fixed his eyes on the vase.

“Green or black?”

“Mmh?”

“Your tea.”

You could swear you saw him smile to himself.

“Black.” He placed his cellphone on the table. “You still have that thing,” he said, referring to the trippy vase.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He huffed a laugh. “Jason said it was ugly.”

“Jason doesn’t have the best taste in the world,” you lightheartedly retorted.

The vase was precious to you, a gift from Damian who spooked you in the middle of a rainy night and made you knock your favorite vase.

You set a plate in front of him and placed the muffin there. “Your tea’s almost ready.”

“No roommate this time?”

“Nope. I miss Lou, but I don’t miss having a roommate that much.”

“I thought the move was temporary just so you could be close to your mother...”

“It is, but there’s still a long way to go. The baby should be here next month and she’ll need help around the house.” You disappeared for a moment as you looked for a mug.

Having found one, you dropped the teabag and poured the boiling water in.

“Sugar.” You put the sugar bowl down just in front of the mug. Feeling his eyes on the side of your face, you gazed at him. “It’s brown, don’t worry.”

He relaxed and uncovered the sugar bowl. “Is the father of your mother’s child around?”

“Yeah.” You sat down on the chair closest to his. “She remarried last year and her husband tries to help, but you know, work gets in the way.”

“Tell me if I can help with anything.”

“Don’t worry, you have enough things to juggle with already.”

“What’s one more? At least let me make you company or walk you home. These streets are dangerous.”

You softly nodded. From the day you met him you knew you would never be able to tell him no — and having his company after a long day sounded nice.

“So...”

“So,” you encouraged him to go on.

“Are you seeing anybody?”

“No. I thought I was a little while ago, but...” You hoped he’d understand what you were getting at. “I guess something got lost in translation.”

“Did it? Or was he too much of a coward to show the way he felt?”

“Don’t.” You hated hearing him talk like that about himself.

“You don’t know how much I regret not kissing you that night. I—“ He sighed, twisting his mouth as he frowned. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“At least now I know you did think about doing it.”

“I did. Many times throughout the night.” He turned to the side to fully look at you. “I wanted to find the perfect moment and became overwhelmed. Sounds like a bad excuse, but I swear it’s the truth.”

“I believe you.”

Damian scooted closer and reached over to place his hand on your face. Softly, he caressed your cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

You leaned onto his touch, tilting your head. “Me too. Sorry for being such an ass.”

“It’s fine. I would have reacted similarly.”

“Similarly or worse?”

“Worse.”

You laughed, making him smile.

“May I?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Damian leaned in, placing his free hand on the back of your chair as his nose brushed yours.

His lips softly connected with yours, but the slow pace didn’t last. The two of you had wasted too much time, thrown away too many opportunities to be this close —or closer— and patience wasn’t a virtue Damian possessed.

The chair was now balancing itself in two legs, making you interrupt the kiss with a squeal.

Damian then made you stand up and wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips were immediately back on yours.

Your hands went up to rest on his biceps as he kissed you again. His arms tightened around you as he deepened the kiss and you melted.

You melted into the kiss, onto his warmth, due to the fact that he wanted this as much as you did.

Kissing him had become a mere fantasy for you, and there he was, not only making it a reality but exceeding your expectations.

Grabbing him by the neck, you broke the kiss in search of air. His breath was barely ragged and you remembered he told you he could hold it in for a long time.

You needed him to teach you just to be able to kiss him for longer.

“That was nice,” you said, still breathless.

“Yeah, really nice. We should do it more often.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m telling you I want you to be mine.”

All in or nothing, of course. Jason had warned you that Damian didn’t take things lightly.

But you were okay with that.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #damian wayne

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amymel86 · 3 years

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @vivilove-jonsa !!! A little Vampire!Sansa and Vampire Hunter!Jon for you...

Day 1

Sansa hisses at the man who holds her captive. She cannot remember a time in which she has been so maddeningly angry.

His solemn face betrays nothing and the layers of spells cast in this little bedroom is making it hard to read the thoughts of his mind – not that Sansa ever had perfectly crystal clear clarity on that ability anyway. It was more like snatches of information, radio stations tuning in and out. Either way, what with how so vehemently enraged she is feeling right now, Sansa doubts she could read his driver’s license let alone his mind – all she sees is him... and all the ways she’s going to kill him.

Once she gets out from under these silver chains he has at her wrists.

“Let me go and I won’t hurt you,” she demands, trying not to move where she lays, arms bound above her head.

The man’s grey gaze flickers up to her bindings. “We both know that’s a lie.”

He doesn’t underestimate her then. And he knows far too much about what she is for Sansa to feel any semblance of comfort in his presence. She tugs her arms, wincing at the pain when the silver sears her skin.

“If you don’t move, it won’t hurt,” her captor offers. “That’s why I put the bandages on your wrists.” He nods his head to where she is bound.

“Oh, fuck off!” In her days as a human woman, Sansa never would have dreamt of using such profanity, but she’s heard enough modern girls using filthy language on her television box to know that it is not so frowned upon today. Besides, it felt right... for this situation at least.

Her captor raises his brow and somehow Sansa feels like this should make her blush – if she could blush.

“What do you want with me anyway?”

“I hunt your kind.”

This makes her scoff. Her left wrist moves causing the chain to come into more contact with her skin. She hisses and whimpers, trying to catch her breath. The man – the hunter – he steps into the room now, where he had been looming in the doorway. Reaching over her, he fixes the silver so that it rests securely on the bandages, saving her from further wounds. Her flesh begins to heal, to knit back together until there is barely a scar left behind to tell a story.

Her hunter is still leaning over her. She could try to surge up against her bindings, lunge at his throat. But it would hurt – it would hurt a lot. Besides, she’d still be bound to this bed.

Sansa can feel her fangs slowly protract against her better judgement.

“Vampyre hunters kill my kind.”

The man grunts and straightens. Staring at her a little while longer, his gaze begins to drop down her body before it snaps back up to her face. “How is it that you select the ones you feed on?” he asks, ignoring her statement. “And the ones you completely drain – the ones you kill – they’re all...”

He’s searching for the right label.

“Bad men,” Sansa offers, raising a brow of her own.

Her hunter snorts. “A vigilante vampire? That’s a new one on me.”

“Why don’t you let me go and I’ll show you how it works.”

His gaze is intense for a moment or two as he maps out her face before turning, leaving her with a quiet chuckle.

Day 4

“I’m not feeding on that.”

Her captive looks down at the bag of blood he holds in his hand. “Do you want to starve?”

“Do you actually care if I starve?”

He huffs and leaves the room.

Day 5

She is in a half state of dozing when he enters the room this time, roused by his agitated tone.

“Alright, look. Just drink the fucking blood, ok? If it’s the wrong blood group, I can get a different one, but can you just-”

“It doesn’t matter what group it is, idiot,” Sansa says, shifting on the bed, uncomfortable. “It’s of no use to me if there’s no life in it.”

“No life in it?”

She nods. “If it’s not coming from the source then I might as well be drinking red food colouring for all the good it’ll do. I need lifeblood to sustain me.” The hand holding the bag of blood slowly lowers as her captive’s jaw clenches in discomfort. “Don’t you know anything, oh mighty vampire hunter?”

“Our training centres around killing, not sustaining your kind,” he says, irritated, almost spitting those last two words.

“Then why haven’t you? Why am I still here? Why are you trying to feed me?”

“I-”

He shakes his head and leaves.

When he comes back, much later, he’s dressed in only his undergarments and his hair is wild and messy. He wears eyeglasses on his troubled face. If he was not her captor Sansa could quite easily imagine herself deciding the sight of him was quite becoming really.

But he is.

So she won’t.

“Alright, don’t try anything,” he warns, coming nearer. He looks at her, assessing. His chest is moving up and down with every breath. Reaching up behind his neck, he unclasps a silver chain that he wears, making sure she sees what he holds and the threat hanging in each link of that necklace. Wetting his lips, her hunter juts out his wrist so that it’s offered right in front of her face. “Feed,” he says, the other hand gripping the silver chain. “But don’t take too much.”

She wants to refuse but she hasn’t fed in over a month.

His skin smells like sweat and bourbon – a hint of a spicy cologne. Sansa licks at his wrist. She’s so, so hungry. Their eyes remain on each other and her captor’s lips part as she continues to lap at her chosen patch of skin.

She can smell his arousal. His undergarments are beginning to tent.

“I- what are-”

“Shhhh,” Sansa coos. “This will stop the bite from hurting and make it heal faster.” He looks mesmerised. “You know, the best way to do this is while making love. Humans say it’s euphoric. Wouldn’t it be so sweet to be completely wrapped up in one another, writhing in ecstasy? Why don’t you...” Sansa tugs slightly on the chains at her wrists, making the suggestion.

Her captor swallows and blinks. “Stop it,” he says, though his voice is quiet and hoarse. “I know how your kind like to tempt your victims so just stop it and feed.”

Sansa huffs from her nose. “Suit yourself,” she says, returning to licking at his wrist.

He hardly flinches when her fangs pierce his skin, but the moan he lets slip when she begins to suck sends tingles all over her body.

Day 6

“Is it uncomfortable?” His eyes focus where her wrists rest above her head.

“What do you think?”

A nod of his head and he leaves. Sansa can hear his apartment door close, the lock clicking into place after him. There is no sunlight trying to streak through the blinds when he returns.

“Ok,” he says, standing beside the bed, though Sansa suspects he’s talking to himself in reality. He scratches at his head, turns to walk away only to return.

“Decided to kill me now?”

He actually does walk out of the room then, only to spin at the doorway to face her. “I should kill you. I should’ve fucking killed you a week ago. My superiors think that I have. It’s what I was ordered to do.”

“So why haven’t you?”

“I-” His hand raises to absentmindedly rub at the back of his neck. “I don’t fucking know. I just...” His mind seems to change track and he’s striding into the bedroom again. “Ok, I have this-“ he fishes an item out of his pocket and holds it out for her inspection. Sansa hisses instantly, the object making her feel queasy. He pockets it again.

“What is that?!” She’s never experience anything like it but she could barely stand to look at it.

“It’s a talisman, a seven-pointed-star with a bloodstone in the centre that’s been blessed numerous times by some holy-man in Asshai or some such shit, I don’t know. All I know is that it’s never left HQ since it arrived and it’s meant to ward off your kind.” He stands there, assessing her once more.

Fuck, her head hurt.

“Seems to me that it works,” he says. “Now, if I untie you, you shouldn’t be able to touch me so long as I have this talisman on my person, and if I hang it above a doorway, you shouldn’t be able to cross that either.”

“Just get on with it and get that fucking thing away from me!”

Her captor takes a deep breath before beginning to make quick work of her bindings. “Right, right, sorry.”

Day 7

His stupid talisman hangs above her open prison cell doorway. Try as she may, she cannot go through.

At least she’s no longer tied to the bed.

“How long do you plan on keeping me here?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really plan it.”

Sansa scoffs. “That’s evident.”

Her captor scowls at her over his folding computer thing.

Pacing the little room back and forth, Sansa comes to a stop as close to the open doorway as she dares. “What is your name anyway?”

His mouth twitches before he answers. “Jon,” he tells her. “Jon Snow.... and you are Alayne Stone, though you changed your name to this after you were turned. Your human name was Sansa Stark.”

Her hands had been on her hips.

They fall now.

“How do you know that?” She hasn’t heard someone say her real name in over a century. She feels light headed.

Her captor – Jon – Jon Snow – shrugs a shoulder and taps on his computer thing. I was assigned to exterminate you. I have your files. The human name wasn’t in there but I did some digging, found out what I could which lead me to a bunch of stuff about Winterfell, and then when I came across this old family photograph from a Northern genealogy site, it was easy to put two and two together.” He swivels his screen around to show her.

Their faces.

A sob leaves her throat.

Day 8

“You really can let me go now, Jon. I won’t hurt you.”

He looks pained. “I... I want to believe you but-“

“But?”

“But I know what you are.”

Sansa feels her lip curl. Maybe she would hurt him. A little.

“Besides, as far as my superiors know, you’re already exterminated. If they catch wind that I let you go –“

“How will they know? I’ll be out of the city before anyone knows it.”

“The Organisation is everywhere, Sansa. They’ll know.”

Huffing, Sansa shakes her head. “So you’ll get a tap on the wrists and-“

“Oh it’ll be more than that-“

As if the universe was trying to prove his point, an almighty crash made Jon spring up from his place on the couch. Somehow, he had a gun already in his hand. “Rast,” he says, his jaw clenching. “If you wanted to come hang out, this isn’t the polite way of going about it. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

The man who had broken down Jon’s door has an answering gun in clutched in his fist as he steps over the threshold. He grunts at Jon’s humour before laying eyes on Sansa in the doorway of his spare bedroom. A rancid grin stretches across his face. “I fucking knew it. I knew you were up to something. Old Mormont said you wouldn’t pull any tricks on us like that but I fucking knew! First I see you comin’ outta that blood bank lookin’ all shady, then the Shielding Star goes missing from HQ, then that fat piggy, Tarly says you’ve been interested in readin’ some of his old dusty books on fangers. I just knew you were up to no good and lookee here.” He flicks the barrel of his gun towards Sansa. At that, Jon starts to shift, moving to put himself between Sansa and his unwanted guest. Rast lets out a horrid chuckle. “Whatchu been doin? Fucking ‘em before you off ‘em?” Sansa hisses, her fangs jutting out sharply. Rast laughs. “Mind you, I wouldn’t mind a go on this one before you stake ‘er. She looks a feisty sort. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this myself.”

“Rast,” Jon warns.

“What’s the matter? Don’t like sharing?” he laughs darkly. “Aw, that’s too bad, Snow, it really is.”

BANG!

Jon’s body jolts back and a grunt leaves him before he falls to the ground.

“Jon!” Sansa cries.

“Looks like you won’t be having a say in it anyhow,” Rast says, grinning. He walks over and kicks Jon in the shoulder making him roll onto his back.

His shirt is rapidly getting soaked in a bloom of wet crimson. Rast puts his boot on Jon’s wrist, pinning the hand holding the gun to the floor. Jon looks over at her, wheezing and coughing up more lifeblood. She feels helpless. He’s going to die.

Turning his wrist as much as he can, Jon takes aim in her direction.

BANG!

Something shatters above the doorway to her little prison cell bedroom and as soon as Sansa can feel it – that sense of freedom - she knows he’s destroyed and dislodged that fucking talisman.

She feels alive.

Before Rast can even fucking blink she leaps onto his back and snaps his neck. His body falls like a sack of potatoes.

She’s in a state of triumph that crashes rather quickly when she hears Jon coughing and gurgling on the floor beside her. When she kneels down, she can see his life leaving, that light in his grey eyes starting to ebb away. He laughs a little though it seems to pain him. “You lot always were so fucking fast.” He struggles to swallow without spluttering. “I’m sorry, Sansa.”

“No, no, no.”

He’s gone.

“No, no, no.”

She cradles him now, feeling grief for the first time in years and years. Looking around, panicked, Sansa’s not sure what she’s looking for.

She knows what she’s going to do – even though she swore to herself she would never.

Biting down hard on the fleshy pad of her palm, Sansa squeezes and squeezes until her own blood begins to drip and dribble from the wound. She reaches for his mouth, praying to Gods she does not believe in that this will work.

Fuck, what if this does work?

Five, ten minutes pass when a wounded sounding groan comes from Jon’s throat taking Sansa by surprise. A shocked sort of laugh escapes her and she opens her wound with another bite, squeezing harder over his mouth. “Come on, moron, drink,” she says, chuckling. He begins sucking sleepily like a babe.

Lifting his bloody shirt, Sansa can see the wound on his chest mending, his new body pushing out the bullet before it completely seals over anew.

That should be enough. His body is already changing. She should leave. He’ll need to sleep for a few hours before he can fully awaken in his new form and she should get herself miles and miles away from here. Besides, that’s what happened to her when she was turned – she woke up alone and very confused.

She should go.

She really should.

Sansa strokes Jon’s hair, the bitemark on her hand now fully healed as she pulls away from his mouth.

... so what’s making her stay?

#jonsa #jon x sansa #vampire sansa #vampire hunter jon #vivi's birthday!#tw blood #tw violence #tw rape threat #just to be safe

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blackkatmagic · 4 years

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so, uh, part of me is LIVING for the fact that you have SO MANY time travel fics but also a part of me is mourning your hands/wrists. So like. take care of yourself please! as for specific characters...honestly you've made me love Mace, so if you have more time travel fics starring him that would be super cool! And Fox. Fox needs like a vacation and a half but he'd be cool as a time traveler too! and wollffe! (I have a type hahaha)

xD I feel like we share a type, tbqh. These aren’t all of the WIPs I have for them, but I figure it’s a good sampling.

Mace:

1. Another Mace/Fives fic, though this one has Fives and Mace both traveling back from the moment of their deaths and not realizing that there’s another time-traveler mucking things up as they try to change the future.

2. Mace/Alpha where Alpha saves Mace after his fall from the Chancellor’s office, they go on the run, fall in love, and then manage to trip back in time to before the start of the war. Only they’re suddenly on opposite sides of the galaxy, so Alpha takes the initiative, packs up his class of baby commanders for a “field trip”, and goes to fid his idiot Jedi.

3. Jaster/Mace, wherein Jaster gets dumped into the arena on Geonosis just as Mace is about to kill Jango, realizes what’s happening, and stops Mace. Via kidnapping, of course. But cramming Jaster, Mace, Jango, and Boba together on one tiny ship headed elsewhere is just asking for things to come to light. Like the clones.

4. Mace/Savage, where at the very start of the Mace finds a Nightbrother missing an arm wandering the planet he’s stationed on, lost and displaced. Mace has no idea just how displaced Savage is, though, or the fact that he’s a Sith.

5. Cody/Mace, only it’s not technically Cody who comes back. It’s CC-2224, chip activated, with no understanding of what’s happened to him and too many traitors around him. Mace, trapped alone with him after they fell into a deep ravine, has to figure out how to get them both home while also fighting the chip’s influence.

Fox:

1. Padme/Fox, where Fox, just barely out of training, spots a strange woman on Kamino. When he follows her, she all but flattens him, and he finds himself the captive of a queen with two young children, both of whom seem to have had massively different life experiences.

2. Quinlan/Fox, where CC-1010 chases a Jedi fugitive into the Temple’s old vault, only to get hit over the head with what is apparently a time-travel device when Quinlan tries to knock him out. It only kind of works, which leaves Fox sliding between puppet and free man at random, stranded in another time, with a former lover who thinks he’s a murderer and is far, far too mentally fragile for Fox’s comfort.

3. Fox/Fives, with Fox reliving the day he shot Fives over and over, never able to change those last few moments even when he desperately wants to. And worst of all, he keeps getting closer to Fives each time.

4. Quinlan/Fox again, with Force-sensitive!Fox landing back on Coruscant at the start of the war, pulled from the moment of his death at Vader’s hands. At first he thinks he’s going crazy, or that it’s all a dream, but the first time a familiar undercover Jedi lands in the Guard’s cells, Fox realizes that Quinlan is the perfect way to test things. Quinlan, for his part, has no idea why Fox is trying to get closer to him, but...it’s working.

Wolffe:

1. Wolffe/Jon - Wolffe’s heard stories about crazy Jedi, but dragging one who’s truly gone feral out of one of the Empire’s cells isn’t exactly easy. Even worse is when the ridiculous Jedi dumps them years back in time, right in the middle of Plo’s flagship.

2. Wolffe/Padme - While running a mission for the Rebellion in its early days, Wolffe’s cover is compromised, and he ends up hiding out on Naboo, deep in one of the tunnels beneath Theed. Except, while he’s there, he meets an entirely familiar woman, wandering the palace one last time before she steps down as queen.

3. Wolffe/Kit, where Wolffe falls into a pond on Yavin IV and surfaces in the Coruscant Temple, right in the middle of Kit Fisto’s pool.

#wip list #my writing #Anonymous #kat answers

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jinxedpanda4life · 3 years

Text

Criminal Investigator AU HC

I would first like to start off by saying thank you to everyone.

I honestly did not expect the response I got to my Damirae Hospital AU HC list.

When I first woke up and checked tumblr ~13 hours after posting I had a holy shit moment.

I felt powerful, should I? Probably not.

But! Since I am noticing a lack of AUs in the fandom, whether on Tumblr, AO3 or FanFiction.net, whatever AU comes to my mind I shall jot down some hcs for!

Thank you all once again!

(Also trying format changes for easy reading)

(Also Also, I am thinking the story is less fluid but more episodic)

Let’s get started:

- So I’m thinking this is some FBI, SVU, and FBI BAU mixture or whatever. Basically all the great shows we know in love shoved together. From Bones to Criminal Minds and everything in between.

- Special Agent (Dr.) Raven Roth is a lead interrogator and is the resident psych consult.

She’s been educated in interrogation, behavioral science, psychology, forensic pathology, and criminology.

She has combat training (hand to hand), she carries (for her job) a gun and at all times has a knife/dagger on her person (people have stopped trying to figure out where she keeps them).

Her father was/is crime boss T. Trigon who is currently imprisoned.

Was born in the states but fled with her mother to Romania when she was a newborn.

When Trigon found them he killed Arella and took Raven, she was abut 9 - 10 years old.

She took her mother’s last name when she turned 18.

Knows two languages besides English; French, Romanian, Romani (various dialects but knows multiple), Greek and Latin

On more than one occasion some goon of her father’s tries to recruit her, every time she kicks their ass. (Damian was there for the most recent (he was still green though))

Lives by herself in a decent sized apartment, has a gun safe (gun safety is important!), a cat (Nevermore), and is a regular at a 24/7 bookstore &/ cafe

Can usually be found wearing some kind of jacket, sweater, cardigan

She once helped save some kids (Melvin, Tommy & Teether) and is now their surrogate aunt, she has photos of them at her desk @ work. (Damian assumes/ed that they were her kids)

She also, when she can, hangs out and babysits them on occasion.

Raven is part of a team consisting of Dick Grayson (unit leader), Kori Anders, Garfield Logan, Jaime Reyes, and very recently Damian Wayne

- Special Agent Damian Wayne is a lead investigator (he is still a bit fresh to the unit), translator, sniper and combat coordinator

He’s been educated in martial arts, explosives, hand to hand combat, close range combat, and combat (basically he knows how to kill you 9 ways to Sunday), also, behavioral science, computer science, criminology, linguistics and language.

He can easily translate (into English): Arabic, Mandarin Chinese, Russian, Hindi, Bengali, French, Polish, German, Spanish, Portuguese, he can also learn any language you put in front of him and know the basics within a day

(Having lived in many places around the world he needed to be able to speak and understand in order to survive) (wow dramatic much?)

His father is currently the director (or deputy director, whatever floats ya boat) of the FBI.

His mother was essentially a secret agent who worked for various agencies around the globe. (deceased)

His grandfather was the leader of a, um, well to be honest, terrorist agency. (deceased)

Was sent to live with his father when he was 15 (when his mother died) and has been in the states ever since

Lives alone, he has an upscale apartment that he truthfully spends little time in, has multiple locations in the home where various weapons are stored, his place has a very cold atmosphere

Is either in proper work attire or in work out clothing, there is no in between

Tries and fails not to take work home with him

He sees a therapist (who says he should probably try investing in relationships with the people at his job)

His only “friend” (he hates calling him that, more like close acquaintance) is Jonathan Kent who was in his class at the FBI Academy, Jon works in a white collar crime department in Metropolis

The only person he actually kind of sort of doesn’t dislike is in fact Raven Roth, she’s a no bull shit person, he likes that

He may know Grayson because of how he’s Bruce’s kind of son but it does not mean he likes him

He finds Logan annoying as all hell, even if he is somewhat useful

He picked a fight with Reyes first day and regretted it (he will never admit that), he respects him

Anders is overly friendly in his opinion, kind of acts like a secretary with all that positivity and grates his nerves, he tolerates her

(Unlike last time I am not going in detail about the rest of the team, this will be brief)

- Supervisory Special Agent Dick Grayson (Unit Chief) is basically Dick Grayson with a big fancy title but all the same skills

He is also obsessed with Slade Wilson and Red X (who is Jason in this)

- Supervisory Special Agent Kori Anders is a lead investigator and is also a go to for undercover work

- Special Agent Garfield Logan is a lead interrogator, is head of the unit’s K-9 unit and kind of has a thing for Roth (which she does not reciprocate)

- Special Agent Jaime Reyes is a tactical analyst, tech analyst and is head of the unit’s SWAT team, he does not do well with talking with people, or change

The Scarab is a computing program that Jaime created himself

STORY START:

- When Damian first joins the team there is another member, Special Agent Terra Markov, she is revealed as a sleeper agent but she aligns herself with the team and sadly is shot and killed in a fire fight

- A couple weeks after Agent Markov’s death everyone is talking about what they are doing for an upcoming holiday, Damian says probably nothing, Raven invites him to spend it with her and her “niece” and “nephews,” he declines

- About a day after the holiday Damian is home looking through case files when someone knocks on his door

-- It is Raven. He asks how she knew where he lived, she says she asked Dick, she also says that she knows how it feels to be alone and that he may be insufferable but it doesn’t mean he can’t have a friend

-- His response is saying he isn’t the kind to make friends with co workers

-- “I’m not asking to be your friend Damian, I am asking you to be his,” She reveals a small black great dane puppy “I know that other people aren’t really your thing, but having someone in your corner and waiting for you is always nice, even if it isn’t human.”

-- Damian invites her in, names the dog Titus and thanks her

-- “Just make sure no one tries to kidnap and kill you, we don’t need you to go full blown John Wick.” Damian has no idea who that is. Raven tells him it is an action movie series that he should watch. She leaves. He does watch them that night with Titus on his lap. (after having gone to the local pet supply store to get everything he needs) The action is inaccurate but he enjoyed the movies none the less, and decides that he probably would go into John Wick mode if someone hurt Titus.

- SA Roth and SA Wayne are sent to a high security federal prison to interrogate a prisoner, who refuses to speak

-- When they get into the interview room the prisoner does start to speak, but not in English and not in a language Damian is fluent in

-- Raven on the other hand immediately responds to the prisoner (shocking the prisoner and Damian) “He is speaking Romani though not the dialect of those overseas, he learned it here.”

-- Damian is fascinated by it and they are essentially switching roles the entire time

-- They leave having successfully interviewing the prisoner, and Raven leaves behind a written list of common words in Romani so that they can possibly communicate with the prisoner better

-- As soon as they are on the plane back Damian asks her a myriad of questions from “How many languages do you know?” to “When did you learn that?” and even “Are you a spy? Sleeper agent? Part of a terrorist cell?”

-- “Not as many as you, when I was a child, if I was part of any of that you wouldn’t be asking.” The rest of the trip is spent with her teaching him Romani and even some Romanian

- Dick & Kori eventually get together and after a while they break up. Kori takes some vacation time. At the same Dick has been temporarily reassigned to another unit.

-- Chaos ensues

-- Garfield thinks he should be the interim unit chief, Jaime thinks the same, as does, you guessed it, Damian (Raven doesn’t want to she is comfortable with her role on the team)

-- In the end they are assigned an interim unit chief, SSA Jason Todd, who usually works overseas on covert op missions (not gonna lie this could easily flow into a Jayrae thing)

-- Everyone kind of falls into line, except Damian, Damian doesn’t like him for two reasons

1) He doesn’t act serious about the job 24/7

2) He has been flirting and hitting on Raven the moment he stepped into their sector

-- Damian hates the names he gives her; “Little Bird,” “Sunshine,” “Princess,” “Rae,” (no one calls her Rae, not even Garfield, at least not after the incident) etc.

-- (Little does Damian know, Jason and Raven have worked together before and are actually friends)

-- This all comes to a head when Damian and Jason are the only ones still in the office after a tiring case.

“You shouldn’t do that you know.”

“Do what? All I am doing right now is contemplating where Grayson keeps the liquor.”

“Call Raven all those names, she doesn’t like it.”

“Really? Because if you haven’t noticed she hasn’t exactly asked me to stop.”

“She gets uncomfortable, maybe not to the extent of asking you to stop, but she tenses up and her body language becomes slightly more agitated.”

“You seem to pay a lot of attention in how she reacts to thinks baby brat. Seems to me that you like her.”

“Of course I like her, she is a good friend and reliable teammate.”

“No, you like like her.”

“That presumption is juvenile.”

“But you don’t deny it.”

“Tch.”

-- If anything after that conversation Jason seems to doubled his advances. Which confuses both Damian and Raven. Damian because it is inappropriate and HR will be hearing about this. Raven because she was under the assumption that she and Jason were just friends. (Jason actually does have genuine intentions but is like 60% just egging Damian on)

-- Eventually (far too long for Damian’s tastes), both Dick and Kori return. At first it is sooooooo awkward. Like mom and dad divorced have shared custody but don’t hate each other but also cannot look each other in the eye. ((Was that a mouthful? Good)) No one can really look at each other the same? Though they do have a meeting to sort it out, get everything out in the open.

- Raven’s annual kidnapping/attempt to convert her/torture comes almost exactly one year after Damian joined the team (this is his 2nd time dealing with this)

-- This time Damian is prepared. By prepared I mean Raven doesn’t even leave her apartment before she is taken to safety.

“Damian what is going on?”

“Christmas came early this year that’s what.”

“Christmas? What in gods name are you talking about.”

“God has no dealings in this matter.”

“You do realize you are sounding like a bad action movie? It is not even 6 am and I am in your car going somewhere, I have had little to no sleep and I am barely dressed. What is going on?” Damian hadn’t payed attention to what clothing Raven was wearing. His mind was on one goal. Find Raven, keep Raven safe. His eyes glanced off the road enough to realize she was indeed not properly dressed. Her body was merely adorned with an oversized tee-shirt, tiny barely there shorts and a pair of fluffy socks.

“I apologize, it appears in my haste I did not leave you time to properly clothe yourself. As to why you are here, it seems your father and his people have shortened their waiting time this year from one year to a little more than ten months.” Ravens hands fisted her shirt. “This time I was prepared,” last time he was still new to everything, last time he made mistakes, this time there will be no mistakes. “Since our last encounter with your demon, so to speak, I have been setting in place precautions and safety measures to ensure Nevermore and yours’ safety. I have also been tracking the movements of his big players. If any came close I would mark it down. Multiple are entering the city at this moment. Seeing as you we taken last time I have made plans to ensure that will not happen again.” The car made a snap turn down an unfamiliar street pulling Raven from her clouded gaze.

“So I am going to be okay this time?” Her voice was faint and restraining against hope.

“You’re going to be okay.” His hand lightly held hers. Only to stop the shaking, they told themselves, only to make everything better. “Nevermore is with Titus at my place being watched by a friend of mine. I have already walked Grayson through everything we will not be expected at work this week, but we can work remotely.”

“We?”

“I’m not going to leave you. Ever.”

-- ((Sorry for the blocks of text))

-- As Raven finds out they are at one of Damian’s safe houses. The one least likely to be tied to her. It is fully stocked with food, has security cameras and if needed weapons. The only problem is that the only clothes there are Damians.

“Thought of everything huh?”

“I was following their pattern, I expected to have more time to acquire clothing for you.” (he was looking away and blushing, you cannot tell me he wasn’t)

-- Raven just resigns herself to wearing Damian’s clothes, yes his brain does stop working for a hot second when he sees her in only his clothes.

-- All attempts to try and retrieve codename: Gem of Scath are foiled (like some good math)

-- So many bonding moments happen. Cuddling (pure accident *rolls eyes*), eating together, inside jokes, etc. At one point Damian answers her phone (he disabled and disconnected the tracer) to one of the mob guys after them.

“Hello?”

“You can hide the gem but we will find her.”

“I’m sorry, is there a jewel you are looking for? I don’t think I have and any jewels that I am coveting.”

“We know you are with her! It is but a matter of time until we collect her.”

“I hope you do eventually find whatever you are looking for sir, but I haven’t the slightest idea the gem you speak of. If you could give me a physical description? Is it a ruby, diamond, onyx? Is it round or more of a pear shape?”

“...”

“Well, I will look for it here, but I do not believe I possess what you speak of. Will you give me your number so I can call you back?” (The line cuts dead, and Raven can be seen laughing in the background, the phone was on speaker)

-- Once the team tracks down, arrests and interrogates all of the parties working for Trigon; Raven and Nevermore can go home. Though both are reluctant in their own way. Nevermore has grown attached to Titus, and Raven well Raven has feelings. Sadly, as Raven knows, feelings are dangerous to have in their line of work.

-- Look at Dick and Kori they were together and then they fell apart and the team almost imploded.

-- What about Trigon if he finds out about Damian and how she feels towards him? What kind of danger will he be in then?

-- Like all of her feelings Raven puts them in a box and locks the box away. Not just figuratively, in her safe there is a box with: post its, torn papers, journals, etc. That box has a lock on it. Whenever she has a new feeling that she cannot ignore, like her feelings towards Special Agent Wayne, she takes out the box and writes her feelings down. They can range from a single sentence to pages worth. (Her feelings towards Damian fill a small notebook she has on hand). Once she has written all of her feelings out she places them in the box, locks said box and then places the locked box in her safe, which she then locks.

-- Is this a healthy way to cope with her feelings? Maybe not. But, it is way better than how Damian deals with his. Violence. Also art but violence comes first.

- At this point both Damian and Raven have caught the feelings (highly contagious I hear), which makes this a little awkward and a little not awkward. For one everyone but Raven knows how Damian feels towards her. He does things for her and with her that no one else gets the privilege to.

-- To list a few:

--- He brings her tea whenever he gets himself coffee or tea

--- He talks to her about what he does outside of work, even about his kind of friend definitely not enemy, Jon.

--- They socialize outside of work. Watching bad movies (some of them are not that bad), going to the park with Titus (they once got Nevermore in a leash and walked her), meeting each other before and after work to get breakfast or dinner.

--- He doesn’t glare at her

--- He allows physical contact between the two

--- He worries about her (hello he created an entire plan so that she wouldn’t get kidnapped, with contingencies and everything, garfield would be lucky to get a plan)

--- His eyes light up when she talks, or enters a room, or you know exists in his vicinity

--- He actually smiles around her (Dick caught him smiling once at Raven and he though Damian was having a stroke)

-- Even though everyone knows Damian likes Raven, very few know that Raven likes Damian back. (this only includes; Kori, Dick, Jason, Titus, Nevermore, and Melvin) She does do certain things that give herself away just like Damian.

--The list:

--- When Damian gets frustrated or angry she puts a hand on his arm, or holds his hand

--- She laughs at things he does (light chuckles, or little giggles)

--- She will talk to him about his interests and actively tries to have conversations with him about things unrelated to work.

--- She blushes when he does something unexpected (like a compliment)((Mostly she tries to hide it until he isn’t looking at her))(((Kori has caught the blush before)))

-- Luckily for them it does not take some cliche ‘One suddenly becomes in danger and the other one saves them only to be close to death and then they admit their love for one another and promise to go on a date when the other is healed’ situation.

-- Damian actually asks Raven out after being tipped of by Jason and Dick that she may like him back. Damian finds out when they have days off at the same time and asks her while leaving work.

“Raven, you have this weekend off correct?”

“Yeah I do. I wasn’t planning on doing anything though. Did you have something in mind?”

“Um, yeah, heh, I was wondering if you would do me the pleasure of going to dinner with me tomorrow.” *Awkwardly rubs back of neck*

“Like a date or two friends going to dinner?” *Thinks she sounds harsh* “I am honestly fine with either since we are friends.” *nervous smile*

“Like a date if that is okay with you of course.”

“Yeah, yeah totally that is totally okay with me.” *Starts sounding like a teenage girl who only knows about 10 words, because she’s nervous*

“Good, I’ll be by your place around 1830, if that is okay?” *nerve central, the central nervous system could never*

“Yup that is totally fine with me.”

“Great.”

“Good.” The elevator opens in the knick of time.

“See you tomorrow evening Agent Roth. Have a good night.”

“You too, Agent Wayne, you too.”

-- When Damian does pick her up he feels like his brain is going to explode. She looks absolutely breathtaking. This is just like all the other times they’ve gone to dinner, except this restaurant is slightly fancier and they are on a date.

-- Raven feels as though all her emotions are leaking out at once, she has no idea what she is doing.

-- In the end they have a good time and decide to do it again. Damian does bring up that all of the breakfasts and dinners they regularly do could now be considered dates. Raven does not oppose that switch at all.

- Fast forward a handful of years (like 3?), Damian and Raven are moved in together (Nevermore and Titus are happy about this, they even allow the humans to adopt another pet, a cat named Alfred). Damian is now Supervisory Special Agent Wayne and is in charge of their unit. Raven has retired from field work and now works at the FBI academy and at Virginia State University. In about 6 months Damian is going to propose and Raven will say yes. Their wedding will be small but happy and full of life.

Once again I would like to thank everyone and all the support the previous post got.

Like last time if anything is disjointed, out of place or seems wrong, please go ahead and tell me. I have been working on this since the last one, but have finally had the time to finish it.

I hope the new year will bring us all some good. Possibly more head canons to come.

#damirae #Damian Wayne #raven #Rachel Roth #damian x raven #Teen Titans #Headcanon #How do tags work #dc #demonbirds

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icecreamkink · 3 years

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so i watched cobra kai all in two days and i have so many -

this show has so many cool and smart angles to it, but the same time.... its so stupid oh my god everyone is so dumb literally mr miyagi held all of the braincells in this whole universe

like i am but at the same time i am not surprised it was made like this, bc in hindsight of course there were hordes of ppl simping over johnny lawrence .... but it still amuses me that this is like... an Actual Official Thing

ok this will get long so cut it is

how much fun this cast has is super visible and i love it

i rly enjoy how the world was expanded ! i did grow up watching the karate kid movies, so watching how they progressed the world of the movies so organically was pretty cool. it rly feels like its the same universe

i fucking LOVE stories that are largely about a Thing. dancing ,skating, sports its just so thrilling to experience this all consuming relationship people can have with this type of activity? and martial arts are just that much more intense, so yeah, grown ass men kicking each other around at the lightest provocation and a war veteran caring so much abt teen karate is Ridiculous.... but i love it all because thats the intensity i find so thrilling

was kinda surprised with how much im missing mr. miyagi. first because, like everyone is so unhinged jesus christo, it just really throws into relief how much his character grounded the narrative of the movies. but also hes just a really great character

and on that note it rly Gets Me that the show itself aknowledges that and plays that into daniels angst and all the little ways they sorta weave myiagisms into the whole show........ im not getting emotional over this dumb karate dads show OK

related - i really miss hearing ‘daniel-san’ 🥺🥺

ACE DEGENERATE oh god oh no

they really went down the down and out johnny lawrence route huh. like i was always kinda bummed we see kreese choking him and then we never see him again in the movies, and while i love dumpster fire problematic trash himbo ck johnny, its like......................... actually really sad that his life turned out like this fjngn

everytime i hear ‘babes’ and ‘pussy’ i die a little inside. i know thats the point but i am a v cringe easy person, have mercy (ehe)

loved the way they are constantly drawing parallels between johnny and mr. myiagi of all people. hes the handy man of his building that has a bullied kid asking for help and eventually steps up to teach them karate, beats up a bunch of bullies for him, creates a friendship with said kid, estranged from family, drinks his sorrows away, surprisingly one of the least quick to anger characters (which says more about everyone else really but.... Well.), no schemes or ulterior motives hes just tryna vibe here.... oh and ofc magically heals miguel of is asthma apparently. the true disciple.. meanwhile daniel is his usual messy petty self even tho he wants to be mr myiagi so bad

also interesting about that is how miguels character is a parallel of both johnny and daniel at the same time

overall the parallels in ck are done really well, drawing comparisons and also subverting them constantly. theyre well thought out

THE PARALELOGRAMS

fr tho, the angle being explicitly the cycle of trauma and its effects and how trumatized adults in turn traumatize kids, maliciously or not, is so interesting

but! on the flip side of that, it feels like the writers are getting in their own way @ letting the characters grow. especially this last season. theres only so many times you can do "johnny and daniel are getting along but 5mins later they are (literally) fighting over some dumbass random issue" or "johnny puts in 20% of effort with robby and then gives up" before it gets on your nerves yknow?

i see daniel no longer talks like macchio ingested 15 shots of espresso before every take and idk how to feel about that tbh

interesting tension in daniel, as in, in tkk mr miyagi was there and daniel was frankly, kind of a lil shit, this messy petty spitfire hot tempered sassy kid,(johnny lawrence voice: just... stop being so annoying) but now hes the adult, and he wants to be mr. miyagi... but hes just not, and never will be to his very core and it shakes him and in a way hes trying to find who he is now that he sees himself in a position to be a not! cobra kai figure. i kinda really like that

plus how that relates to his cobra kai trauma. idk if the writers thought abt it Like That, i think so, but in any case, its interesting bc it seems like daniel has told everyone whod listen about johnny lawrence his Pretty Boy Karate Rival and high school and 84 cobra kai... But. no one seems to know what went on in 85 (or 86? idk) which was just so much worse

like ye og cobras were shitheads, but tkk iii is just two hours of daniel being emotionally and physically tortured.

like, the third movie is.............chaotic, to put it nicely, and many people ignore it, but the writers clearly didnt. daniels actions are, in a way, responding so much more to the events of tkk iii than to the first movie ie. johnny himself, AND. daniel doesnt rly seem to have dealt with that trauma? he never told sam? doesnt feel like hes ever told amanda? he doesnt even say terrys name out loud? freaks Out over kreese ? the way he reacts to robbys deceit? his FACE when he walks past the new "fear does not exist in this dojo" paint or kreeses photo? hmMm i sense Pain

his fashion tho........... disappointing. where are the flower shirts daniel huh we had one (1) shirt what a tragedy STOP WEARING SUITS ALL THE TIME . also the band ts/grunge bi are a look for johnny but part of me longs for the preppy lovable 80s bully chic johnny lawrence getups

weird that they never used that last moment of karate kid where johnny kinda... snaps out of his anger and hands daniel the trophy almost in tears. like “youre alright larusso, good match” “thanks a lot” that being their last direct interection seems like itd be perfect fruit for cobra kai but... they just dont. weird.

especially when, the FIRST SCENE they see each other, suposedly in 30+ years, the first thing to come out of daniels mouth is QUOTE "u still got those golden locks huh?" WHO SAYS SHIT LIKE THAT DANIEL FUCKING SAN

also amandas immediate reaction "your pretty boy rival?" like. can we talk about the fact that daniel had to have imparted to his wife the very important information that his high school bully/karate rival was like Really Cute and Fucking Hot Actually

the writers Knew exactly what they were doing and honestly.............. power to them

tkk director voice: and billy was just so cute

also I was thinking that daniel sounded strangely fond in that first scene, and i wonder if he developed a weird affection for johnny on the grounds that of all of his Karate Rivals johnny was actually the only one who didn’t actively tried to literally kill him

i was actually delightedly surprised with how great the chemistry between them is, like from the get go i am Invested. their rl friendship totally bleeds through and its fantastic

. granted, idiots enemies to lovers friends is my Thing so i am biased

johnny lawrence: i am down in the dumps, i fucked up my whole life and my sons probably, largely in light of the trauma that the father figure sensei and the philosophy of my karate inflicted on me and all my friends. u know what i should do, as a traumatized, unreliable mess of an adult? teach that same philosophy to some other kids! what could go wrong!

but really i enjoy the setup of it. i kinda like that i watched it late because, season 1 was johnny setting himself up for failure in a way and it was exciting to watch it all go to shit sjfn

Like. his heart might be in the right place, but theres just.... not a way to teach something like ‘strike hard, no mercy’ and not have it fuck up a kid

case and point: aisha, miguel and hawk become annoying as all hell over that bullshit in the end of s1, even before shit gets truly fucked up

billys subtle panicked eyes when he sees hawk and miguel fighting dirty in the all valley was SO GOOD especially in parallel with the panic that is so visible in his face in the movie when kreese tells bobby to injure daniel and in the sweep the leg scene

seen people question wether kreese should have returned and i absolutely think he needed to. johnny needed to realize that cobra kais fundamentals are flawed, at the root, beyond kreese himself being a toxic piece of shit

also who are we kidding? we are here to see the tkk characters play on new playgrounds!

i get what they're doing abt kreeses backstory, ( also. cobra kai. pq eles caem nas cobras djjs sorry) but did it need to take up that much time? feels like they couldve done it in half the run time and developed some other stories better

martin kove has such an evil eye. i love it

love that we get a good follow up to kreese breaks johnnys trophy and tries to CHOKE HIM in the parking lot, which happened in the movie and then....................... was never mentioned again

“the gang is all back together again” aaaa u piece of SHIT

also. terry silver is definetely appearing ha ha ha PAIN i cant wait

seen ppl say kreese was too much of a cartoon villain like..........................oh......... sweetie........... u dont even Know

interested how johnny will fit into that bc kreese was simping rly hard for johnny here. like i did not expect him to be so adamant to have him with cobra kai ... under his control, sure, but he really wants johnny by his side despite already having control of the dojo and how will terry silver self appointed jon kreeses forever simp going to feel abt that?

like bitchs dropping by every episode like ‘joooooohnny ..... come bacc to me joooonny......... this ur last warning! for real this time johnny! i wont say it again! watch me ! im leaving johnny! im rly leaving ! im dragging a chair” and johnny is just like. dont let the door hit ya bitch it was so funny pls

and on that subject oof, johnny! doesnt! Know! he doesnt get that side of daniels cobra kai trauma. and i kind of.............. cannot wait for ck 2021 johnny lawrence to meet terry silver like. what a shit show i need a front row seat and popcorn (imagine terry tries some greasy charm and johnny just roundhouse kicks him in the teeth bc he just doest Not Have the Patience for This. glorious)

feels like we, as a society, should acknowledge that cobra kai will never die................ bc their sense of design is just chefs kiss. their name is COBRA KAI. they have sexie sleeveless black gis. theyve sneks. colorful leather jackets with embroided naja insignia, the get ppl thru the aesthetics. evil geniuses

the flashback cuts : masterpiece behavior

the other takes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! of the movie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the differente angles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! of the FIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE CLOSE UP ON JOHNNYS FACE AT THE KICK

that scene of daniel and johnny vibing to 80s music in the car. just. oh my god. the fan wish fullfilment. no thoughts head empty.

the new characters! theyre .... good. but. idk. i really like miguel (save for the annoying phase mid s1 - end s2) and amanda, who is a damn riot and has some functioning braincells, but everyone else is

like dont get me wrong, i dont hate anyone,its not a jane and rafael from jtv situation, and i am interested and invested in their arcs, but i wouldnt say i like Like them, as in, personality wise

like, sams grappling with ptsd was rly gutting and i enjoyed that plus her slight rage issues,

which nicely parallel torys rage issues. torys background is all over the place tho so im pretty on the fence abt her so far

robby deserves better in every way, and i like how smart and cunning and surprisingly sweet he is

hawk............... is there i guess,

demetri is annoying in the best way possible,

carmen is sweet but. i just feel like her character is blunted to make the johnny relationship easier. like when shes furious with him after miguels injury but then forgives him like an episode later? and then convinces him to fight for the tournament bc she had a karate epiphany off screen even tho she was always against it? meh. feels like with the plot thiccening she was swallowed and now shes like a crutch for johnny mora than anything, which is disappointing.

aisha was cool and im kinda mad she wasnt in s3, especially bc a storyline with her tory and sam was like RIGHT THERE , but also... cant say i was super super fond of her... doesnt feel like we ever spent enough time on her

moon the bi icon,

overall its a good cast but the main draw for me remains the og cast

the tory/sam miguel/robby Thing. enjoy how theyre Narrative Foils and i like how their stories were so dramatically entangled but oh god give me a break with the teenage love square for the love of god. if u gonna put us through that at least have the decency to not make it so straight

and honestly some sam/tory miguel/robby romantic tension would even make more sense. just saying!

also im not sure how i feel abt the cobra kai: red miyagi do: blue theyre going with since some of daniels most iconic looks in tkk are also red. like it was a color they (johnny and him) sorta shared. i get it, opposite but complementary but idk... a little too fire nation and water tribe for me .

and like the cobra kai kids are so funny abt it bc their outifts grow progressively more ridiculously coordinated. its like do they group chat every morning before leaving their houses?

robby still sticks out like that tho. he went thru an athleisure/daniel san tsleeves phase and now hes back in the bandts grunge, but his color scheme doesnt fully blend with the other cobra kais. hmmmm.

LOVED LOVED LOVED both the okinawa episode and the cobra kais easy rider episode just such good good heart aching fun

bobby is an icon. he was in tkk and he is now ck hope appears more and more

tommy is like the most iconic background character. all his lines, freaking gold then and now. sigh :(

the framing in the okinawa trip was so good everything was so good

i stand by the fact that kumiko was the love interest daniel had the most chemistry with and shes is overall such a joy to watch, loved to see her again, idola, fashion icon

also tkk ii is good u guys are just mean

also really enjoyed chozens role in the episode, his evolution; i love that they introduced the pressure points (ty lee the blueprint) and! the honk + karate! cousins! absolutely iconic

when kumiko reads mr miyagis letters........ oh my god, my eyes FILLED with tears, it was so heart wrenching :(( tamlyns delivery was so emotional and lovely and its so obvious everyone involved in ck has so much love and respect for pat morita and mr miyagi as character, and i adore that it exists like this electric current through the show

when we were watching i told my sister i thought that ali would be miguels big shot surgeon and ngl i am so disappointed that didnt happen. hire me cobra kai writers

also the johnny ali daniel amanda chemistry? off the charts

AND the sassy retconning of daniel and alis breakup! LMAO ‘I HOPE U DIDNT TELL MR MIYAGI IT WAS MY FAULT’ HFDJJGNKFKSD

i am preeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeetty sure back injuries dont work like that but oke

daniel and johnny are so good together whenever, like they never actually help the kids or get shit done and end up fighting anyway but its just so much fun when theyre hanging

JOHNNY LAWRENCE AND DANIEL LARUSSO FIGHTING TOGETHER

daniels “plan” on how to get robby to juvie was so stupid. literally were u TRYING to make him hate you. dumbass

parents at those hearing rly brave for ppl that did not do ANYTHING as their kids got involved in a karate gang war until now

“bullshit i heard u were the real bully!” i mightve screeched

this s3 ending was SO DRAMATIC omg

everyone is such a MESS go to THERAPY u unhinged motherfckers

also im sorry but uh. a richass neighborhood in california doesnt have some type of neighborhood watch? the larussos rly dont have any security at all? neighbors wont hear the sound of a damn karate brawl happening next door??? also wasnt tory all like ooo i cant go to juvie, my mom yada yada yet shes always running around town getting into fights even at the rich girls house she was kicked out of school for fighting?? ? ?? ?? ? ? ? ?? ? ? girl??

stop destroying the larussos house, its so pretty :((((

sam finding her center looking at mr miyagis picture... uwu maybe

robby yelling ‘U ARE WEAAK’@ johnny \as he is easily blocking him is like.... so funny and so sad to me. sweetheart.

also i know it was meant as ‘oh johnny pushes him and HURTS HIM’ but it just looks like robby runs himself into the lockers and IM SO SORRY I FEEL SO BAD BUT IT WAS SO FUNNY

i like that he and tory are the cobra kai kids now. we need ppl we care abt there to not revert to a good vs evil schtick, and this is the most engaging it could be... tho it hurts that these kids cant catch a break

ah yes "lets bet some real shit on the result of this teen karate tournament bc that is always a great idea" is BACK

so daniel saves johnny from kreese..... maybe johnny will save him from terry 🧐

and dojos unite ohohoho. lets SEE how that’ll work out

miguels face of Despair when the ck defectors and the md kids are bickering like 'this is never gonna work' : gold

also. Johnny Lawrence is gonna learn some myiagi-do karate AHAAHSJAKDFH

ive been waiting for this moment all my lifeeee oh lawrd

final thoughts! there are def things i hope the writers will improve on the next season, but i am very excited for it either way AND i feel like it has made me enjoy the movies even more and that is a win for a reboot/sequel to me!!

#m.#did i procrastinate watching this since it came out and only watched it now bc my sister nagged me to when i said we should #watch karate kid over the holidays?#and then binged the whole thing in two days??#mayhaps and what abt it #cobra kai #the karate kid #its funn #y bc like karate kid is a Childhood movie but i wouldnt say #it was like particularly special for me?#like i wasnt in a fandom or anything #but now.#i might be invested #maybe #talvez

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zalrb · 4 years

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Nothing has changed, Everything has changed

All right, I wrote a continuation of my Jonsa fic. Kept it short because I didn’t know if people were still interested but I’ve been marathoning GoT and I’m in my Jonsa feels so I decided to write a next part.

Link to part 1: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/164720175550/trust-jonsa-one-shot Link to part 2: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/181817838525/an-entirely-different-way-pt-2

Link to part 3: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/182562584780/passion

Link to part 4:https://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/184333793460/survival

Link to part 5: https://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/184637430325/the-happening

*not my gif*

The war was over, the living had won, and the Great Hall was full of laughter and music in raucous celebration. Sansa cheered Jon on as he drank and chortled, as they toasted and feasted, together with his men, with their people, in their home. For a moment, she’d forgotten the complexities, the longing, the resentments, the tumult. For a moment, she felt nothing but the gratitude of life, the gratitude of his survival, of hers and Arya’s and Bran’s, of the North’s. For a moment, everything was easy and uncomplicated.

Until she saw him glance at her.

Daenerys sat on the other end of the table, quiet and tight-lipped until she glanced back at Jon, beaming with affection. Sansa could imagine the look he was giving her, his silver-haired queen, she could imagine his soft eyes and wide smile, and it all came back in a horrible instant – the vow Jon had broken, the one he had promised, the impending wedding…their night together, her and Jon’s, the impulsivity they had allowed themselves before the potential end of the world. Well, the world was still standing and now there was so much that needed to be reckoned with. But the thought of doing so was unbearable.

Everything had become unbearable.

Sansa stood up from her seat, unaware of Jon’s turning head as she walked out of the hall. Jon felt himself deflate. As Sansa left, it was if she took all the air in his body with her, and his instinct was to go after her. They hadn’t had a moment alone since … no, he couldn’t think about it, not ever but especially not now, it wasn’t right. He looked at Daenerys, her smile was faltering and it made him shameful, it made him panicked. Did she know what had happened in the hours before the battle? He should be there, present in the Great Hall, in the midst of celebrations. But then he couldn’t help himself and turned away from her, looking back at the spot at Sansa had just vacated.

Jon entered Sansa’s room, stumbling slightly, and then leaned against the door after he closed it behind him, sighing heavily. He had no plan of what to say, no right combination of words to tell her but the drinking had made him bold and he felt no need to think ahead.

Sansa could feel him behind her, feel his eyes on her --- only his gaze could inspire such a fury of emotion, each feeling tinged with a heat that at any given moment could teeter over to passion or anger.

“I wonder how many times you hesitated before coming here,” she said.

“Not as many as you’d think,” he said quietly. “I had to see you alone.”

She turned to look at him at that, careful not to give anything away, careful to contain the fire within her and to give him nothing but frost. “Why?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean ‘why’? Are you going to act like it never happened?”

“Acting like it never happened is why you’re here,” said Sansa. “You’re here to tell me we have to forget about it, you’re here to tell me that there are more important things than that night.”

Jon rested his head back against the door. “Very few things are more important.”

“I understand. We’ve had the discussion, you can go now,” said Sansa.

“You never make it easy, do you?” said Jon, stepping away from the door and a little farther into her room. “You have to turn everything into an argument.”

“I’m not arguing.”

“No, you’re sending me away,” he said, trying his best to keep from yelling. “You’re so quick to see me leave. You’re so quick to---”

“Are you still going to marry her?” Sansa’s voice came out louder than she’d intended, louder than she’d wanted.

“You know---”

“Are you still going to marry her, yes or no?”

Jon sighed. “Yes.”

“Is your knee still bent to her?”

He pressed his lips together. “I gave her my word.”

“So, nothing has really changed has it?”

Jon strode up to her, sobriety returning with each step. “Everything has changed! I didn’t expect this, Sansa. I didn’t expect you. You’re in my head,” he said, shrugging helplessly. “All of the time.”

“Even when you’re with her?”

“Especially when I’m with her.”

Sansa narrowed her eyes, her mind racing, her heart pounding. “And is she in your head when you’re with me?”

Jon rubbed his eyes and then his forehead. “When I am with you, what I feel when I am with you… I am disloyal to her. Not thinking about her would be a contradiction.”

“You feel guilty about your disloyalty to her but you didn’t feel a shred of that when you were disloyal to me?”

“We won the battle against the army of the dead because of her dragons! Or have you forgotten? I was going to do anything to protect you, Sansa, even if it meant risking your anger!”

“And round and round we go, arguing about the same things! You think you’re right, I know you’re wrong---”

“---I’m not wrong!---”

“---Why are you here, Jon?”

“That’s exactly why! I don’t want to fight with you anymore, Sansa, you can’t know how much I hate it.” Jon walked even closer to her, a frenzy in his eye that never failed to agitate Sansa with her own. “If you can’t see it my way, you have to forgive me!”

She stared at him, her gaze hard. “I can’t.”

“Sansa---”

“I can’t forgive you.”

“Even after everything that has happened, after what you’ve seen what her forces can do---”

“I know you think what you did was right and you know I will never believe bending to a foreign invader---”

“--- our Queen---”

“--- is right. But that isn’t what I can’t forgive, I can forgive you anything but not this.”

Jon shook his head. “You’re not making any sense!”

“I can’t forgive you for marrying another woman!”

The words rang out and seemed to echo within both Sansa’s and Jon’s heads, words she never wanted to say out loud, words she didn’t even want to think were now heard by them both and they would never be unheard. Oddly, the embarrassment of them compelled her to continue rather than stop. He had to know. After what happened between them, he had to hear it.

“I can’t forgive you for putting me in this position! What happened … between us ��It should never have happened.”

A flurry of panic seized Jon. No, she couldn’t have meant that. It would kill him, utterly destroy him if she did. “You regret it?” he asked.

Sansa didn’t say anything for a few moments, a few agonizing moments. Jon reached out and took Sansa’s hand in his. “Do you really regret it?”

“I never thought I’d know what safety felt like, ever again. Or happiness. Satisfaction, sure. Pride, yes. Triumph. Victory. But not happiness. Or… pleasure, I don’t think I ever knew what that felt like. Until us.”

Jon swallowed hard, closing his eyes. He wished he hadn’t held her hand, her skin against his just made the memory, the excruciatingly beautiful memory of his lips on her his, her fingers tracing his skin, all the more vivid.

“And it was never supposed to happen and it can never happen again.” Sansa remembered it, the heavy sighs, the warmth of his body, her hand pinned beneath his. “Can you really not see, Jon, that the thought of you and her, it eats away at me piece by piece? Do you even know what that feels like?”

He opened his eyes, his expression a mixture of indignation and panic. “Do you really think this is easy for me?”

“Isn’t it?” said Sansa harshly. “She’s beautiful, Arya saved us but she helped, you’re beholden to her, you admire her, you think she’d make a good Queen, you even said you loved---”

“YOU’RE IN MY HEAD! DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?”

Sansa exhaled heavily, startled by the height of his tone. She and Jon had yelled at each other so often but the desperation in his tone now, stunned her.

“You have been in my head since before I left for Dragonstone! I told myself the only reason I couldn’t stomach the way lord Baelish looked at you and spoke about you was because I didn’t trust him, was because I wanted to see him dead for what he did to you, to our house, but it was more than that! And then you danced with lord Cerwyn and I could’ve rammed my fist through a stone wall! When ser Davos warned me against us, I could’ve knocked his teeth out! The thought of someone else with you makes me ---” He couldn’t even bear to finish the sentence, his face twitched with jealous anger at the sheer possibility. “My feelings for you aren’t fair to you, Sansa, I can’t do anything with them! And I don’t want---”

“What do you want?”

Jon paused, his eyes searching Sansa’s, his lips parted, his entire body humming with a yearning that tortured him.

“It will only make it worse,” he said, resigned. “It will only make it harder on ourselves. Because you’re right, in the morning I still have my pledge, I still have my promise. I can’t change that.”

He stayed where he was for a moment, wrestling with himself, and then finally managed to walk toward the door. The sense of loss that spread within Sansa as he turned away from her could’ve floored her. Jon had his hand on the handle, he started to open the door ---

“Jon.”

He cursed her for saying his name. He loved her for it too. Jon stopped and then slowly, turned his head. Sansa knew she should let him go, she knew she should’ve told him to leave the minute he came in, she knew every caution he’d voiced, every warning she’d told herself was right.

“Let’s make it harder on ourselves.”

Jon sighed heavily, full of longing and dread. He closed the door and rushed up to Sansa, kissing her hard on the mouth the instant he gathered her in his arms. She gripped the back of his head, her fingers in his hair, her body pressed to his, as they wrecked each other with their embrace.

#jonsa #jon snow #sansa stark #GoT #game of thrones #jonsa fanfiction #sophie turner #kit harrington #jon x sansa #sansa x jon #jonsa fanfic #GoT fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #angst #jonsa angst

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phoebenavarro · 3 years

Text

and on you stumble on (ch 2)

the magnus archives, established JonTim, pre-JonMarTim, 1,200 words

read on ao3 here

ch 1 on tumblr

Tim goes to buy the axe, and Jon calls Martin into his office. Martin looks wary, but he softens the moment he sees Jon, and he starts fussing over Jon, as is his way.

“Are you alright, Jon? You look awful.”

Jon clears his throat. “Yes, I… I think I’m coming down with something. You should go home, and take tomorrow off as well.”

Martin frowns at him. Jon just hopes he’ll buy the lie and stop asking questions. “Are you sure you—“

Jon cuts him off. “I don’t want to infect anyone else. Best you stay home.” He tries to give Martin a completely normal smile.

Martin gives him an unimpressed look, and Jon can practically hear his bullshit detector going off.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to stay home, then.”

“Yes,” Jon concedes. Damn it, Martin. “But I have things I still need to take care of here,” He sighs, “And… I know things have been a bit tense lately, and that’s mostly been my fault. I think we could all do with a bit of a break.”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“And I’m sorry. About everything.”

Jon expects Martin to protest more, to ask more questions, but he’s quiet for a few moments, and then he nods. “Alright,” he says, “Thanks, Jon. I… I appreciate that. Do you need me to tell Tim and Sasha?” Jon is surprised, but he tries not to react.

“Oh, no, I already told Tim, and I’ll be seeing Sasha later.”

Martin nods again. “Right. See you on Monday, Jon.”

And with that, Martin leaves, closing the door behind him. For a moment, Jon is concerned. That was way too easy, Martin is usually much more stubborn, it wasn’t even a good lie… But maybe Martin could sense just how desperately Jon needed him to agree, Martin is perceptive of other people’s feelings like that, and either way, Jon has more pressing concerns. Tim is due back in a few minutes.

--------

Tim returns around 5, when most other people are leaving for the day, with a pizza in tow.

“We still need to eat,” Tim says, even though neither of them have an appetite. They both manage to force themselves to eat a slice, and they leave the rest in the break room fridge. (“Maybe we’ll be hungry afterwards, or if we die, Martin can have it,” Tim says in a failed attempt to lighten the mood.)

And then they wait. Tim reads through all the statements with the Not!Them in them again, going all the way back to Amy Patel. He wishes they’d understood what they were dealing with back then. Jon stares into space, thinking. They don’t talk. It’s solemn, almost as if it’s their way of paying their respects to Sasha.

At 7 o’clock, when they’re certain everyone in Artifact Storage has gone home, they sneak in. Jon has a key as a department head, so it’s less ‘sneaking’ and more ‘letting themselves in.’ It’s not particularly hard to find the table about halfway in.

“You should do the honors,” Jon says, staring at the hypnotizing pattern on the table and wrenching his gaze away from it to look at Tim. He hates the thing, hates how it caught Sasha in its web to be killed by a monster. Tim feels resigned; this is his life now, getting revenge on monsters that have hurt the people he loves. Tim picks up the axe, feeling the weight of it, getting an idea for what the heft of the swing is going to be like.

“You sure about this?” Tim asks.

Jon huffs out a small laugh. “No,” he admits, “But it’s the best option we have.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees. “You probably want to step back a bit. You don’t wanna get hit with any spooky shrapnel.” He offers Jon what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Jon backs up a bit and gives Tim a reassuring smile of his own. Tim wants to say something, just in case something horrible happens, but what can he say? I’m sorry, I love you, I really hope we don’t get killed by a horrible monster? Those are all things Jon already knows. “Ready?” Tim asks, and Jon nods.

Tim lifts the axe above his head and swings it down against the table with a satisfying crack. Music starts to play, seemingly emanating from the crack in the table. It reminds him of the music that was playing in the theatre, when Danny… It spurs him on to hit it again, and again, and again, as the music only gets louder, until finally the table is in splinters on the floor and the music stops. Jon moves to Tim’s side, placing a steadying hand on Tim’s arm, and Tim realizes that he’s breathing so hard he’s nearly hyperventilating. He tries to calm down as Jon inspects what’s left of the table.

“It was hollow,” Jon murmurs, “There’s just cobwebs and dust.”

“What…?” Tim begins, when he’s cut off by laughter. Jon freezes, his grip on Tim’s arm tightening.

A tall, lanky figure emerges from the shadows. “That was very stupid,” it giggles.

Tim recognizes Michael from Jon and Sasha’s descriptions, the hair, the hands… and he understands why Jon is holding onto him so tightly.

“What do you want?” Jon spits, reminding Tim, absurdly, of a cat puffing itself up when it’s scared. Michael leans against a nearby shelf.

“There’s no other way out of this room, you know,” it says casually, conversationally. Tim turns to look at the doorway, to make sure their exit is still clear.

“What?” Jon says.

“You don’t have time to escape before they get here,” Michael continues, and Tim’s blood runs cold.

“Oh no,” Tim murmurs.

“No, the- the table…”

“Was binding it quite effectively,” Michael says with a too-wide grin.

“Shit,” Tim swears. Next to him, Jon starts muttering something he can’t quite make out.

“Even with all the protections you have here, Archivist, I doubt you can survive them now,” Michael says, “And your assistant has no such protections.” It laughs. Jon tugs on Tim’s arm.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he says, “Tim, you need to go, you need to get out, I’ll— I’ll distract it.”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” Tim immediately counters, “No way!”

They both freeze as they hear a distorted voice calling Jon’s name. Michael just laughs in the background. Tim swears again, spinning to look at their exit. There’s a tall figure silhouetted in the doorway. Fucking of course there’s no fire exit, Tim thinks.

“Tim, run!” Jon shouts, pushing Tim away from him and then running deeper into Artifact Storage. The Not!Sasha chases after Jon, seemingly uninterested in Tim, and Tim sprints to the exit.

Jon drew it away so that Tim could escape, he realizes. Stupid, stupid self sacrificing idiot. If they both make it out of this alive, Tim is going to be so pissed at him.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #jontim #tim stoker #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartim #reblogs encouraged #mine #my writing

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myocsfanfictions · 3 years

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The Wolf, The Stag and The Snake (Book 1)

A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

This fanfiction is about three girls who lives in Westeros and how their lives changed when the War began. Follow Antea Stark, Cassandra Baratheon and Cyel Sand in their adventures. There is more you have just to wait and see. This fanfiction follows only the books.

- Next >>

Chapter 3

CYEL

“Just a little higher,” Cyel said to two servants who were hanging a wreath of blue roses around the entrance while she was weaving another.

Everyone in Winterfell had been very busy since the arrival of a crow from the South to announce the imminent visit of the King and his family after the death of the Hand of the King and Lord of the Eyrie, Jon Arryn.

Cyel had never met the Warden of the Est, but she knew that he was the man who took care of her Lord Stark in his youth. Eddard Stark had been sent to the Eyrie at a young age, and Lord Arryn became a father figure to him and Robert Baratheon, who was Lord Stark’s closest friend before becoming King. That was a story well known to her ears and the Stark children’s.

Cyel couldn’t stop feeling sorry for her Lord. She knew what it meant to grow up in a foreign land and yet feel at home. She could just imagine how painful losing an essential part of your past must have felt.

Cyel arrived in Winterfell at the age of four, and even at that time, the vast castle was very busy, even though not for her arrival. Just the morning before Cyel walked through the stone door of Winterfell, Lady Catelyn had given birth to Brandon, the fourth and the sweetest of the Stark children.

She still remembered her first day in the North well, even if she was so young back then. The summer snow covered the field, the cold wind blew against her cheeks, and the light mist gave an almost magical atmosphere to her surroundings.

Everything was so different from Dorne, and yet she could not help but feel herself grown attracted to the North. Maybe it was the landscape or the people, so different from any other that she had met. And even though she was nervous, she felt immediately at home. Her mother told her that it was expected, though.

Her father could have been Prince Oberyn Martell, but Lady Phelya Rosemberg, Cyel’s mother, was a noblewoman who belonged to a lower house of the North. Their castle was very far from Winterfell; it was near Brandon’s Gift, not so far from the Wall. But still, the Rosemberg House had been very loyal to the Starks since they were Kings in the North.

In your veins flows the blood of the far South and of the far North; do not forget that, her mother always told her. Maybe that was the reason why Cyel had never felt a stranger in the North. Even though she would sometimes think fondly about the welcoming and warm sun of Dorne and her father’s embraces.

It hadn’t been easy for Oberyn Martell to let Phelya take Cyel North. Even if her father were known for being ruthless and vindictive, he would have given the world for his daughters. Cyel had eight sisters, step-sisters actually, each of them was a Sand. Sand was, in fact, the name given to the bastards of Dorne, like Snow in the North. And since her mother and father had never married, Cyel's name couldn’t be Martell.

“Is that alright, lady Sand?” Cyel smiled at the servant girl, Miranda.

“It’s perfect.” even though she was a Sand and, in fact, a bastard, in Dorne, bastards weren’t different from legitimate children. They have rights, and they were included in the line of succession. And even if she wasn’t in Dorne, her father was a prince, and that gave her a position in the Seven Kingdoms. That was the reason why they called her Lady.

But her name was not enough to appease her father. Oberyn Martell did not trust the people of the Seven Kingdoms very much because of what had happened to his sister, Elia Martell, during King Robert’s Rebellion.

Cyel’s aunt, Elia, was Raeghar Targeryen’s wife, and she died killed by a man of the Lannisters. Phelya tried to reassure Oberyn that Northerners were different from the people in the South, but he wanted to be sure that his daughter would be treated with respect. Because of this, he proposed an arrangement to the Lords of Winterfell, and if they had accepted, he would have let Cyel go with her mother.

At the right age, Cyel would have to marry one of the Stark boys. Even though Lord Stark never liked arranged marriages, both he and his wife accepted them. Cyel had possessions in the South, and whoever would have married her would have become a Lord of Dorne and would have had the Martells as allies.

From what her mother had told her, she surely would have married one of the Stark boys, even though she didn’t know who her husband would have been yet. Lord Stark preferred for his children to know love, especially in times of peace, so the Starks let Cyel and Phelya stay in Winterfell not to separate the mother from the daughter and even because of the friendship between the Lord and Phelya, who had spent many years of her youth to Winterfell before the war. It was customary for a young lady to spend the majority of her youth in other Lords’ castles as their ward to learn how to be a proper lady. So, since their first day in Winterfell, her mother had become Catelyn Stark’s court lady, and Cyel had become Antea’s.

“This is quite a good job, Cyel.” hearing Lady Catelyn’s voice, Cyel stood up, bowing her head.

“Gratitude, my Lady.” Cyel had always admired Lady Stark. She was a perfect lady and very loved by her people. She hoped that one day she could have become as good as her to run a castle. But she couldn’t deny feeling a bit under pressure when she spent time with her Lady. She always studied her and paid attention to her every move. Cyel didn’t complain, though. She wanted to learn, after all.

She still remembered the first time she met Lady Catelyn Stark. She had given birth to her fourth son just the day before, but she looked beautiful, like a lady from the stories, and she looked at Cyel like she expected a lot from her. Since that day, Cyel had tried her best to impress her Lady, who had always been very strict with her but very caring at the same time.

“How is your lady mother feeling today?” Lady Catelyn asked, looking at the roses on the table.

Phelya got ill a couple of months prior. Her fever never seemed to go away, and she always felt frail. She and her daughter tried to convince their Lords to let them go to Thornhill, Rosembergs’ castle because they didn’t want to be a bother to their host, who had always been so kind to them. But Lord and Lady Stark had insisted for them to remain in Winterfell, where Maester Luwin would have taken good care of Lady Phelya.

“You are part of the family,” Lord Stark told them.

Cyel couldn’t be more grateful to her Lords. They let Maester Luwin take care of her mother every single day, even if he didn’t seem to understand what was wrong with her.

“She slept tonight, my Lady,” Cyel answered, looking at her, who nodded with a sorry look on her face.

“I shall visit her later.” Lady Catelyn had always visited Phelya every day, but with the King’s arrival, she had been so busy that she couldn’t.

“I like how you’ve arranged these decorations. They are pretty,” the Lady said, brushing delicately the petals of the flowers before turning to Cyel. “I need you to look after the garden now.”

“If it pleases my Lady.”

Cyel felt so honored to help with the arrangements for the arrival. In fact, she and Antea had been chosen to help. At first both girls were happy to not attend Septa Mordane’s lessons, but now they didn’t understand why they’ve complained about them for all those years.

Running a castle was stressful and challenging, even for someone like Cyel, who had always liked to make things pretty.

But doing it for fun was a different story.

Now, everything had to be as perfect as it could be, and Lady Stark was cautious about everything they did. But Cyel had a secret weapon; when Sansa had the time, she asked the young lady for her opinion. Sansa was as strict as her mother, and she was sincere.

“I like these wreaths as well,” Lady Catelyn said. “You could hang some of them in the gardens.” Cyel smiled.

“I will,” and immediately she started to pick up some roses, helped by two servants, and after bowing her head, she walked to the gardens.

Winterfell was huge and wonderful; its walls were tall and warm, and everyone seemed so happy. The Starks were very kind to all of their people, noble and not. She spent all her life playing in those yards with the Stark children and other kids who lived in Winterfell. Cyel always loved play in the snow, they had so much fun running on white fields chasing each other.

“Are you sure it is safe for you to be up there?” she was hanging one end of the wreaths at the entrance of the castle. Cyel looked down, and she saw Robb Stark looking at her with a big smile on his face.

“I am, my lord, but I appreciate your kind concern,” she replied, making him laugh and making some servants and guards turn toward them. They were used to it, though.

Every time Cyel and Robb talked in the yards, people would look at them. The two of them were used to it, and they always made jokes about it. They knew about the arrangement, but Cyel knew that it was highly improbable for them to marry. He was the future Lord of Winterfell, after all. She may be a lady, but she was still a bastard in the name. Even though Robb was a great young man, and every girl would have been lucky to have him. He was undoubtedly handsome, a great warrior, and very funny. He had always made her laugh since the very first day. He was so different from Jon Snow. Jon was quiet and shy, and he always seemed to study everyone and everything around him.

She noticed it the first time she met the Stark children. Robb was so outspoken and funny he immediately treated her like a part of the family; Jon was silent at first, very quiet. It took a little while for him to talk openly to her.

It was nice talking to Jon Snow once he opened up; he loved his brothers, and he was always happy around them. Even though when he was alone, he always looked a bit pensive and melancholy. The only times Cyel saw him always happy were when Princess Cassandra Baratheon was in Winterfell. Jon and Cassie had always appreciated each other’s company, surprisingly understanding one another.

“Have you seen Antea?” Robb asked her, “I haven’t seen her all day.”

Cyel always noticed the love that connected all the Starks. They had always been together. Lord and Lady Stark didn’t send them away to learn their duties in other Houses, and they had always lived their lives in Winterfell. She often thought that she would have liked to spend more time with her sisters in Sunspear. Tyenne, though, wrote her every week telling her what was happening in Dorne. Cyel and her sisters may not be as close as the Starks were, but they loved each other. Even her older sister Obara wrote her every once in a while.

“I think she was supposed to be in the main hall,” she replied, jumping on the ground and accepting the hand that Robb was offering her.

“By your tone, I understand that you do not wish for me to go,” he said without stopping to smile. Cyel laughed, patting Grey Wind’s head, Robb’s direwolf. Since they had found those puppies, they never separated from them. It was like they shared a bond with those creatures.

“She was trying to hide,” Cyel explained, thinking about her friend’s idea of hiding in Winterfell crypts so that no one would have found her. “And I’m sure you will help her escape.”

“You know me so well, my lady!” Robb said, putting a hand on his chest. Cyel shook her head with a smile.

“Well, if you go there, I didn’t tell you anything,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

“Told me what?” he answered with a smirk. She nodded knowingly. He never failed her.

“Thank you, my lord.” Robb smiled a last time before patting Grey Wind’s head.

“I’ll see you later,” he said, starting to walk to the castle with his direwolf behind him. “Do not tire yourself.”

Too late, Cyel thought, returning to her duties.

It has been another hour of intertwining wreaths, making more space in the yards, and making everything look perfect. Cyel was hoping that the King’s visit would pass soon so that everything would come back to normal.

“Here you are!” Cyel turned to look at a pissed Theon Greyjoy make his way into the gardens, rapidly marching towards her. Something must have made him very mad, but she always found his angry face funny, so she tried to hide a small smile.

“Where is he?” Cyel frowned in surprise and confusion.

“Who?” Theon rolled his eyes, becoming even more pissed by her words. It was usual for the two of them to bicker; since their very first encounter, they never stopped.

They’ve always felt comfortable with each other, and sometimes Cyel thought that it was because of their similar situation. They were both wards of Lord Stark and away from their own home.

She remembered the first time she had learned that Theon was, in fact, a hostage and not a guest like she was. Cyel had been so surprised. He studied with the Starks, hunted, trained, ate, and played with them; it was so strange. The Starks didn’t treat him like a prisoner, it was like he was part of their family, so it was easy to forget the circumstances that had led him to Winterfell.

“Your little friend, Cyel. Where is he?” Now she knew who he was talking about.

“Why should I know where Bran is?” She asked, turning her back to him to hide a smile.

“You always know where he is,” Theon answered after letting out a slight growl. And that was true. Cyel always knew where Bran was. He was special to her, but still, Bran was special to everyone who met him. He was a sweet boy yet stubborn. And he was very easy to laugh and impossible not to love.

She remembered when Antea took her to meet her new little brother. He was there in his mother’s arms, and he had looked at her for all the time she had stayed in the room. His eyes weren’t changed much after all those years. And growing up, the two of them became friends quickly and spent a lot of time together.

“Well, apparently I don’t this time,” she said, turning back to look at Theon, who studied her face to try to find out if she was lying. He, of course, knew that she was, as well as he knew that Cyel would have never spoken.

“You know I will find him,” Theon said after a minute of silence. Cyel shrugged her shoulders with a knowing look.

“I know you’ll try.” Cyel followed his steps with her gaze as he stormed away, and when she was sure he was gone, Cyel walked to one of the trees in the yard. It was the tallest of all, and looking above her, she spoke.

“You can come out now, Bran.” immediately, Bran appeared in front of her upside down, looking at her with a surprised expression.

“How did you know?”

“I know you,” she answered. The boy looked at her for a moment before climbing down from the tree. Cyel had watched him climb a million times sometimes they even climbed together, but Bran was very good at it, far, far better than she could have ever been, and she was always impressed.

“What have you done this time?” she asked Bran with her hands on her hips and an amused look on her face.

“Nothing,” he said while his direwolf ran to them, but he could see she didn’t believe him. “A prank,” Bran admitted at the end.

“I cannot believe it!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “You did it without me? I’m offended, my lord.” Bran smiled immediately, and she soon did the same.

“I did try to find you,” he said, shifting from one foot to the other. “But you are so busy these days.” Indeed, she hadn’t spent much time with Bran or his sisters lately, and she was very sorry about that.

“I know,” she said, nodding lightly. “But the King is coming. We need to make a good impression.” Bran looked at his feet. He must have been bored; they had always played together, but now, no one had the time.

“Tell me,” Cyel said, trying to make him smile again. “How are you happy that King’s guards are coming here?” his face lighted up immediately. Bran’s dream was to be a knight. He knew everything about knights, and he knew the story of each one of them.

“I am so happy!” he exclaimed, making her smile. “I can’t believe it! I will see real knights!” In the North, there weren’t Knights. For them, a man could have honor without being called Ser.

Bran didn’t want to be just a Knight; he wanted to be a King's Guard, the guards who protected the King, and when they took the vow, they gave up lands and marriage. She looked at him and always felt sorry because even Bran could have become her husband one day, and if he had, he would have had to give up his dream.

But that day was still distant. For now, they were just children.

“Cyel.” Cyel looked behind her back and saw Lady Catelyn waiting for her.

“I have to go.” he looked in his mother’s direction, too, and pouting, he spoke again.

“Can you not spend a little more time with me?” she would have liked it very much, but sadly she couldn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Bran.”

Bran turns to his direwolf with a scoff. Cyel glanced at Lady Catelyn, who was observing the two of them, still waiting for the girl to go to her.

“What if...” At her words, Bran looked at her. “As soon as I’ve done here, I’ll come looking for you so we’ll spend some time together. Is that alright?” he glanced at her before smiling again and nodding.

“Yes, it is alright.” Cyel smiled at him when he started running away with his direwolf towards Godswood.

She kept her promise, and once she had done with the arrangements, Cyel spent the rest of the day with Bran and his direwolf. He didn’t have a name yet. Bran wanted to find the right one.

The evening arrived soon, though, and she ran to spend time with her mother. She would have had dinner with her, just the two of them. She loved spending time with the Starks, but it was nice to have some alone time with Phelya. Her mother was everything to her; she was Cyel’s closest friend. Phelya was always happy, even now that she was sick. Sometimes Cyel thought that she was acting, but her mother had this beautiful quality of seeing always the best in every situation.

“How are you feeling?” Cyel asked, hiding her worry and giving a plate to her mother. She always brought meals to her, and she was her mother. She was supposed to look after her. It was so sad looking at Phelya in that period; she was pale, and there were dark circles under her usually happy blue eyes.

“The Maester was relieved. The fever is slowly going away.” at her words, Cyel couldn’t help but smile, bringing her hands to cover her mouth.

“Truly?” If it was a dream, she prayed to the Old and the New Gods not to wake her up.

“Mother, this is wonderful!” she exclaimed, hugging her mother, who started laughing lightly. Cyel didn’t know how much they stood like that, but she didn’t care. She was just so happy. In the last few months, she tried to stay strong for both of them, but even if she tried to keep her mind busy, she couldn’t help but worry. But now Phelya was getting better and that was the best news of the day.

“So, how’s my sun today?” Phelya asked, patting her bed, telling her daughter to come and eat in bed with her under the covers.

“Very tired,” Cyel laughed sweetly, taking a bite of her meal. “I think I’m going to fall asleep on the plate.” She was tired, but that day had been wonderful, and she couldn’t wait for the next day to help her Lord again.

“If you are so tired, then you cannot open your present,” her mother said with a playful smirk on her face, and Cyel smiled immediately. Her father must have sent her something from Dorne. It was frequent for Oberyn Martell to send his daughter gifts now and then, just to let her know that she was in his thoughts, and with them, there was usually poetry for her, and he was able to make her cry every time.

Cyel usually traveled to the South once a year, but now, with her mother in that condition, she didn’t want to leave her, and even if she was healing, Phelya had to rest and recover. Anything else could wait.

“Maester Luwin left it when he came.” Maester Luwin was a sweet old man when he wasn’t teaching them; on those occasions, he was a bit scary, even more than Septa Mordane.

Well, no, maybe not. No one was as scary as Septa Mordane.

Cyel took the box that her mother was giving her, and with careful moves, she opened it. Her father gave her a dress. It was beautiful white with small orange embroidery that seemed to dance all around the gown.

“Gods, it’s beautiful,” she murmured, looking at the fabric in her hands; she couldn’t wait to show it to Sansa. The lady loved Cyel’s dresses, but unfortunately, Sansa couldn’t wear them because she was far taller than Cyel. Once, with her and Antea, they tried to make Arya wear one of Cyel’s dresses, but the wild lady had run away from the chamber, leaving them behind and laughing. Arya was so different from all of them. Phelya always told her that Arya reminded her of Lyanna Stark, Lord Eddard’s sister. The wildness must have run in Starks’ blood. Even Rickon, who was still three, had great fierceness in him.

“I think I’m going to wear this for the King’s arrival.” she could feel her mother looking at her with a smile.

“I think you should.” Cyel caressed her new dress once again.

Even though she missed her father and her sisters every day, she was glad she had her mother and the Starks beside her. Cyel had never felt like an intruder in that castle, and she had never felt unhappy or alone, not even once. She would have always been grateful to her Lords for all the care they gave to her. She would have never forgotten that.

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haberdashing · 3 years

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Biting Your Own Neck (7/?)

Mid-season 2, Jon’s life is abruptly upended by the intrusion of two unexpected and eerily familiar visitors.

on AO3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

Jon assumed it was either Tim or Martin sighing, though the sigh stopped before he could redirect his gaze to either of them to be certain; either way, though it appeared directed against Jon’s own words more than anything else, Jon couldn’t say he entirely disagreed with the sentiment. It had been a long day already, and it was still only the middle of the afternoon, with plenty of time for more surprises to lurk just around the corner.

“There’s got to be something that’ll prove what they’re saying is true.” Martin eventually said. “At least hypothetically, or else you’re just being paranoid for no reason.”

“Not like that’d be anything new.” Tim muttered under his breath.

Jon thought for a moment. Now that Martin mentioned it, he didn’t have any concrete ideas for how Jonny and Kay could prove that they really were versions of Jon and Martin rather than shapeshifters out to steal their identity or some such, but Jon could see the merit in Martin’s argument just the same. But if it was more evidence he needed...

“They left their bags with us. We could look at what’s in there, see if the contents make their true identity any clearer.”

Jon had expected Martin to jump at the idea, but instead he looked as uncomfortable as ever. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Didn’t they say not to do that?”

“They didn’t, actually. All they said was that they thought their bags would be safe here.”

“While talking about us like we weren’t even here,” Tim added, “Which was really rather rude of them.”

Martin visibly deflated as he let out a long breath that fell just short of a proper sigh. “It’s still an invasion of privacy.”

“Can’t be as bad as stalking someone’s flat.” Tim said with a meaningful look at Jon; Jon, for his part, tried and failed to convince himself that Tim was referring to what Martin had been doing when he’d first encountered Jane Prentiss.

“And if it helps settle any suspicions, it’ll be well worth it.” Jon cleared his throat as he stood up and took a few steps towards the bags in question. “They probably won’t even know it happened so long as we’re careful about it.”

Martin still looked unconvinced, eyes wide and face pale, but after a moment of hesitation, he nodded. “Alright then. So long as you’re sure.”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far, but I’m willing to take the blame if if comes to that.”

“The least you could do.” Tim said in a voice low enough that Jon wasn’t actually sure he was meant to hear it.

Tim and Jon stood up almost in unison, with Martin only a step or two behind as the three of them approached Jonny and Kay’s bags, two stuffed and grimy-looking backpacks that both looked entirely unfamiliar to Jon. (If they really were from the future, well, Jon must not have bought that particular backpack yet.)

“Should we pick one to go through first? Either of you have a preference?”

Jon and Martin looked at one another for a moment before shaking their heads.

“I don’t recognize them, so I wouldn’t know which one was ‘mine’ to begin with.” Jon said.

“...yeah, same here. Guess we can just pick one at random.”

A moment of indecision, and then Tim grabbed the closer of the two, a backpack which looked to be a musty green underneath all of its grime. Just unzipping the thing was enough to send a bit of unpleasant-looking dust out into the rest of the Archives, and Jon had to stifle a cough.

“Oh, this has to be Jon’s- well, future Jon’s, anyway.”

“Jonny’s.” Jon corrected before shaking his head a bit as the words sank in. “What makes you say that?”

Tim shoved the backpack Jon’s way. “Just take a look.”

Jon did so, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little as the reason behind Tim’s certainty about the backpack’s ownership became clear. A tape recorder was sitting near the top, and about a dozen cassette tapes were crammed into the backpack, threatening to spill out if it were unzipped any further.

“You know, I still don’t exactly like tape recorders.”

“Doesn’t stop you from using them, though.”

Jon made a noncommittal grunt in response as he looked through the other contents of Jonny’s backpack. There were a handful of loose pieces of papers seemingly thrown in there at random; at a glance, Jon didn’t know what they were or what their purpose might be, but they might be worth a closer look later. The backpack also contained, among other things, a small torch, a roll of duct tape, matches, a whistle, and several safety pins scattered across the bottom.

“On to Mart- er, Kay’s now?”

A few nods of agreement, and they moved on.

Some of the contents of Kay’s backpack weren’t terribly surprising: a thin blanket, a handful of teabags, another whistle and torch. Some weren’t outrageous, but made Jonny wonder what spurred on their inclusion: a long thread of rope, a crowbar, several maps of what looked to be the entirety of Great Britain with an X in northern Scotland and London circled.

(There was one notebook that Martin grabbed immediately and refused to let the other two look at, even after Jon confessed that he’d read Martin’s poetry before, that it couldn’t have gotten much worse in the future.)

And then...

“Martin, why the hell do you have so many knives?”

“What?” Martin inched closer as Tim brought the offending knives out of Kay’s backpack. “Oh, that’s- the way you said that, I thought it’d be more than that.”

“What d’you mean? That’s a lot of knives for someone to carry around!”

“Three knives isn’t that many, really! And the one’s a Swiss army knife, a, a multitool, that barely even counts as a knife-”

Tim held up the knife in question, extending its blade, which was admittedly fairly small. “But it is still a knife, you know, legally speaking-”

“I didn’t think we were speaking legally, just look how thick that handle is, there’s got to be loads of other tools in there-”

Jon cleared his throat, mostly in order to get Tim and Martin’s attention and stop their argument in the making. “What do the other two knives look like, then?”

“Well, this one’s a bit bigger, and it’s clearly not a multitool-”

“...I think I recognize that one, actually. From when I carried around a knife for a bit. Looks like the same knife.”

Tim squinted at Martin. “Since when did you carry around a knife?”

“Since Prentiss attacked me! Thought it’d be good to get worms out, at least until I came up with the corkscrew idea. Never had to use it, thankfully, but...”

Tim let out an exaggerated shudder. “Lovely.”

“And I thought the corkscrew was bad...” It was only too easy for Jon to picture that knife being thrust into his skin, being stabbed to remove the worms burrowing their way inside of him, his flesh being cut up like a piece of meat... no, all things considered, the corkscrew was the lesser evil there.

“Don’t suppose you recognize the other one, then?”

This knife was big, even by non-portable knife standards, Jon was pretty sure. A butcher’s knife, perhaps? One that was big and sharp and didn’t lend itself as easily to uses beyond simple violence, cutting up meat dead or alive.

“I mean, I think it’s the one he- Kay was gonna use on that Not-Sasha thing, but other than that? No idea.”

“Why would Kay even need to carry around a knife like that?” Jon took a closer look at the knife, tried to determine whether the dirt on it was simply dust and debris from being carried around or something more sinister, but to no avail. “Did he... did he use it on someone?”

“He didn’t, no.”

Jon gulped as he heard his own voice calling out, fast footsteps approaching--how much had Jonny and Kay heard?

“Martin hasn’t had to hurt anyone with that knife. He’s certainly not a murderer. Unlike yours truly, that is.”

Kay protested with a quick “Jon!”, but it wasn’t enough to avert Jon’s attention from the implications of what Jonny had just admitted to. Jon’s throat suddenly felt like sandpaper.

“...are you going to kill us too, then?” Tim didn’t sound terribly afraid of the prospect--angry, perhaps, but not afraid--and his fingers wrapped themselves around the handle of Kay’s biggest knife as he looked up at the duo.

“Jon, you’re scaring them.”

“I have no intention of killing you, no. But since you went digging through our stuff, and probably found some confusing things in there...”

Jon’ stomach sank.

“...perhaps it’s time the two of us give the rest of you a proper explanation.”

#tma #tma au #tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives au #the magnus archives fic #the magnus archives fanfic #personal #my writing

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jedimastergoat · 3 years

Text

“Really? do I look stupid?” Episode 68

An SG-1 story set well after the events of the show. Probably part of the 'Fate' series or a reality close to it.

** ** ** SGC ** ** **

“Sooo...” Daniel drew out, hoping Jack would finally tell him what the hell was on his mind.

“So Carter and I had a nice weekend without the kids.” Jack said with a shrug.

“Yah, I gathered that. And?”

“And nothing.” Jack said but his jaw was jutted out like he wanted to chew his bottom jaw off.

Daniel looked around the mostly empty bar they were in. It was a dive for DC which was probably why Jack liked it. None of the stuffed suits he abhorred would step foot in the place. Leaving Jack to drink in peace.

“Who did you leave the kids with?”

Jack’s frown deepened.

Ah. So that’s what it was.

“Mini me took them. Mini Carter was busy with mid-terms.” Jack grumbled.

That was unusual. Normally if Sammy was busy her adopted parents took point and sat the kids as Jon was still pretty low ranking. “Wil and Mary weren’t available?”

Jack shrugged and took a swig of beer. “He offered.”

“And? Did they at least get to see Sammy? I know Grace misses her.”

Jack frowned further. “They saw her.”

Daniel gave him a look from the sides of his eyes. What was going on? “Jack?”

“Daniel.” Jack sounded tired and frustrated.

“Jack.” Daniel said sharply.

“Daniel.” Jack replied with a dark tone.

“Jack.” His tone bordering on nagging.

Jack threw up a hand with a frown. "I think mini Carter is knocked up and her idiot boyfriend is trying to hide it from me."

"Jack... aren't you technically her idiot boyfriend."

"Shut up and drink your beer Danny"

Daniel smiled into his bottle for a moment. “What makes you think she’s pregnant?”

“Oh the whole avoiding me seeing her thing. I talked to her on the phone but not once in person.”

“That’s hardly an indictment Jack.”

“He knows I’d know.” Jack said.

“Uh… how?”

“The same way I knew Carter was knocked up before she did. He smell changed.”

“Her… smell?” Daniel gave Jack an odd look.

“Women’s body chemistry changes when they are pregnant. If I know that woman I know if she doesn’t smell like herself… and most of ‘em smell the same with pregnant.”

“That’s oddly specific Jack.”

Jack shrugged.

“And it doesn’t mean she’s pregnant.”

“She knows I’d know.”

Daniel narrowed his eyes. “How?”

“Remember the extra Carter from the reality that she didn’t go into the Air Force that came here?”

“Yah?”

“Carter asked me know I knew the other Sam was pregnant without Janet telling me.”

“And of course you told her.”

“That I knew she smelled pregnant.”

“Well that’s not awkward telling your coworker you have memorized her smell.” Daniel said dryly.

“Haven’t you ever noticed Carter and I know when the other is nearby? Did you think we had some kind of psychic friends connection?” Jack asked Daniel dryly.

Daniel thought for a moment with his mouth open. “Wait, she does it too?”

“Actually Carter has all of our scents memorized. She can even tell Jon and I apart.”

“What about you and your cousin?”

“She says we look nothing alike.” Jack said with a chuckle.

“Okay, okay so she was hiding from you. I’m not sure that means she’s pregnant Jack.”

Jack grunted.

“Look there’s a quick easy way to clear this up.” Daniel said and pulled out his phone to dial Jon’s number. When it rang he handed it to Jack without preamble.

Jack took the phone gingerly.

“Hello?” A familiar sleepy sounding male voice said over the line.

So are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Jack lit in at go.

“What? What are you talking about old man? I was trying to sleep.” Jon groaned.

“Next to your pregnant girlfriend I imagine.” Jack said dryly.

“Yah she’s right here so what--- wait… WHAT did you say?!” Jon squeaked

“I said I know she’s pregnant you idiot.”

“Now wait a damned minute—“

“Really? Do I look stupid to you?” Jack asked his younger self.

“Well yah act stupid for sure.” Jon responded dryly.

“Cut the crap kid. Why didn’t you tell us right away?”

“Tell you what?”

“Did I stutter?”

Jon huffed. “She’s not pregnant.” He growled.

“Then why the hell all the cloak and daggars?”

“She had to study and she gets super distracted when your around with the kids.” Jon said as though Jack was a dolt.

Jack frowned. “Fine.” And hung up.

“So… not pregnant.” Daniel said helpfully.

“No.” Jack grumbled.

Several states away Sammy rolled over and nuzzled Jon’s shoulder.

“He’s going to be really mad when he finds out we lied to him about this.” Jon sighed.

“He’d just worry.” Sammy told him. “Besides. We’re already lying to him about not being married yet.” She shrugged. “What’s one more thing?”

“It’s not you he’s going to kill Pipsqueak.” Jon growled.

“Aw… you haven’t called me that since I was twelve.” She teased him.

Jon’s response was a rumbling growl and pinning her beneath him so he could kiss her senseless. An achievement he was still remarkably overwhelmed that he ws capable of doing so. “I love you.” He said, still rumbling and clamed her mouth again. His hand strayed to her belly. “And I love you too little guy.” He told her still smooth stomach.

#stargate sg1 #stargate #fanfic #writing #daniel jackson #jack o neill

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ladycatofwinterfell · 3 years

Text

Consequences, part 1

Catelyn and Ned decided to walk different ways after their relationship of three years, for good reasons. Ever since that Catelyn have kept a secret from him. When she one day, ten years later, decides that she should tell him they meet for the first time since the breakup. It takes them no time at all to fall back into old habits. The problem is that Ned is married, and that Catelyn is still keeping that damn secret. The only thing they can be sure of is that actions have consequences.

This feels incredibly messy, but I hope it’s worth the read. Enjoy!

She looked up at the house, felt her heart beating hard and fast in her chest. It was a stupid idea. A terrible idea. So many years had passed, but she had to talk to him, had to see him. Because in those ten years that it had been since they had broken up she had thought of him every single day. Every time she looked at her son she thought of his father. Not that the boy knew who his father was, she had never told anyone. Not even the father in question.

Catelyn took one last deep breath, then she stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut. She walked towards the frontdoor of the house, never taking her eyes of it. If she hesitated for even a second she wouldn’t be able to do it.

The door flew open before she reached it and she froze for a second when a child ran out. The boy also stopped when he saw her. He looked to be a few years younger than Robb.

“Who are you?” he asked and looked at her with big, surprised eyes.

She had to be at the wrong house.

“Uhm, my name is Catelyn. I’m looking for Eddard Stark, do you know where he lives?”

The boy looked at her for a moment.

“That’s my dad.”

Well, that certainly complicated things. Ned had at least one child. And probably a wife too. He had done what she had never been able to do. He was living a happy family life. But he also didn’t know. He didn’t know about the wonderful little boy who sat in her brother’s kitchen and did his homework. Robb.

“Jon! Who are you talking to?”

A woman appeared in the doorway. She looked at Catelyn very suspiciously. Catelyn couldn’t blame her, if a stranger had stood in her garden and talked to her son she would have been worried too.

“My name is Catelyn Tully” Catelyn introduced herself. “I’m looking for Ned Stark, is he home?”

The woman was quiet, just watching Catelyn with her lips pressed together. Catelyn wanted to turn around, get back in her car, and get away from there. What had led her to doing what she was doing? Was she going mad? They had done so well for so long, why had she decided to ruin it?

The woman turned around and talked to someone, then she turned back and a person came up behind her. And Catelyn’s heart stopped beating. His hair was graying and he had a beard, but it definitely was him.

“Catelyn!” he exclaimed.

She managed to find her voice, couldn’t hold back a smile.

“Hello, Ned.”

“I didn’t know you were coming here, but it’s nice seeing you again.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while. I’m sorry for showing up unannounced, that was terribly rude of me, but...” she began.

Ned’s wife interrupted her.

“How do you know each other?”

“Oh, we were friends long ago” Ned said.

They almost got married long ago, but it wasn’t necessary to tell her that.

“Some ten years ago” Catelyn added. “I just came here to–“

No. She couldn’t. She could not ask him to talk with her in private about it. Not after seeing him like that. He stood there with his wife and his son, the son he knew he had. He had a good home, a family. She couldn’t ruin that by telling him that he had another son. That wouldn’t do any good for anyone. It was better if he didn’t know. It was better if she kept that to herself.

“You know what? Forget it, it was nothing. I’m sorry for wasting your time, I’m going to leave now.”

She turned around and began walking back to her car, blushing furiously. She was so stupid. So terribly stupid. What had she been thinking of?

“What?” Ned called out.

She turned around, forced herself to smile again.

“It’s nothing, really. Just forget I was ever here.”

~*~

It had been a week since Catelyn came there, and Ned had been thinking about it constantly ever since. She had very clearly wanted to say something. He had no idea about what it was, but the thought of never knowing was slowly killing him. She had showed up without a warning, asked for him and then just told him to forget about it. And she had been every bit as lovely as she had been ten years earlier.

Her red hair, and blue eyes, the way she blushed when she got upset. And her smile. Nothing had ever been more beautiful than Catelyn when she smiled.

That was what he was thinking of when he walked up the stairs to the apartment where she lived. He had to ask her about it, what she had wanted to say. His wife had not been very happy about it, but he had promised her that it was nothing. He just had to talk to Catelyn.

And suddenly he walked right into someone. The person fell backwards with a shout, dropping the plastic bag they had been holding in one hand.

“Ow! Fuck!” Catelyn swore. “Watch where you’re going!”

“I’m so sorry!” Ned said, horrified.

Only then she seemed to realize that it was him.

“Oh, Ned” she said as she got up and picked up the plastic bag. “What are you doing here?”

Excellent question, what was he doing there?

“Well, I know you told me to forget about it, but I couldn’t. I was just wondering what it was you wanted to say.”

Catelyn chuckled, looking down at the floor. Her long hair fell forward, partly hiding her face. Still he could see the blush that creeped up on her cheeks. And despite all the years that had passed he still felt that nervous sensation when he saw her smile.

“That was quite weird, wasn’t it?” she almost whispered.

“A bit, yeah.”

She looked up at him again.

“Uhm, we could go up to my place. Better than just standing here in the stairwell” she suggested.

“That would be very nice” Ned replied.

“Great, I just need to take out the trash. But it’s the next floor, the apartment to the right. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Then she disappeared down the stairs. He had to just stand there for a moment before continuing his way up. Seeing her again, he had not imagined it would feel that way. It felt like the first time they met, not like when they had walked separate ways.

He continued up to the next floor, but decided to wait outside for her. It felt weird to just walk inside. No matter what happened in their past, there had been ten years since they met, they were essentially strangers with a past. He barely knew anything about her, apart from that she lived alone with her son.

For a moment he couldn’t help but wonder why. Anyone would be lucky to be with her.

“The door isn’t locked, just go inside.”

He flinched and turned towards her. She laughed and walked past him, opening the door.

“Still always lost in your own thoughts?” she said.

“I guess.”

He followed her into the apartment. It was a bit messy, but still very homely. There were shoes everywhere in the hall. He remembered that it had been that way when she was young too. She had excused it with that she had more important things to do. He wondered if her excuse had changed or if it still was the same.

“I’m sorry about the mess. We’re not very good at cleaning” she said.

“Just like it’s always been.”

“Some things just doesn’t change, I guess. Do you want coffee? Oh, wait, why am I even asking, you don’t drink coffee. Do you want tea?”

She still remembered.

“No, thank you, I’m good.”

“Are you sure? I have a lot of it, my son, Robb, barely drinks anything else.”

She lit up when she mentioned her son, it was very sweet.

“He’s with a friend right now. He’s very social, he hates being alone” she said. “Well, now I’m just rambling, I’m sorry. I’m a bit nervous, I suppose.”

“Don’t be” he smiled.

“Let’s just go inside.”

Catelyn led him into a small living room and sat down on the couch. He sat in an armchair, and tried to not look around too much. He didn’t want to be nosey.

“Look, I’m sorry about last week, I don’t know what I was thinking of” Catelyn said.

“It’s fine, you know, you haven’t actually done anything.”

She was quiet, thinking. She chewed on her lip, another habit that she apparently still had. When they were together he had always found it very endearing. And he found that he still did.

What the hell was he doing? He had a wife, a son. And he loved them with all his heart. He knew he did. So why was he in Catelyn’s home finding everything she did so perfect? Why did it feel like there had not been ten years since they last saw each other. It was like no time had passed at all, like nothing had changed. But everything had changed.

“No, I was going to tell you something. I decided not to, because I realized that it would do no good for anyone.”

Ned waited for a moment, to see if she would say something more, but she stayed quiet.

“I would really like to know. Clearly, it was important to you.”

Catelyn sighed.

“It is important to me. But it’s better if you don’t know, really. It’s better if no one knows.”

~*~

“You can tell me anything, Cat” Ned said softly. “You know that.”

It is surprisingly easy to fall back into old habits, Catelyn had become aware of that in the five minutes it had been since she ran into Ned in the stairwell. Apparently he was falling into old habits too. And hearing him call her ‘Cat’ made her all warm. And his voice when he had said it, when he had told her that she could tell him anything. Like they had never broken up. And when he sat there in front of her she found it very hard to remember why they had broken up.

A part of her still loved him, a part of her always would. She wanted him to be happy. And he would not be happy if she told him he was the father of her son and ruined his marriage. She had nothing to lose, it was just her and Robb. But he had things to lose.

“Not this. I can’t tell you this.”

She could feel tears rising in her eyes. She couldn’t cry, it was such a bad time to cry. She hid her face in her hands, breathed deeply.

“I want to know what is troubling you. I want to help you.”

Suddenly she felt his arms around her and she leaned against him almost on instinct. Ten years had passed, so many things had happened, but in a way things between them had never changed.

They sat like that in silence for a few minutes. What were they doing? He was married. But still she couldn’t bring herself to move away from him. The safety of his arms was a comfort she had wanted for so long. And when she finally had it, she never wanted to let it go.

But eventually she moved away from him, gathering herself.

“I’m sorry about that, it’s a lot right now, I’m a bit emotional.”

“Please don’t apologize” he said, putting one hand on top of hers. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I don’t know what I’m doing. Contacting you was the stupidest thing I have ever done. Everything would have been better if I had just continued like I have done for the past years. You should go and forget this ever happened. You’ll be better off if you do.”

She turned away from him and pulled away her hand. If whatever they were doing continued she would ruin his life. And she didn’t want to do that. She desperately wanted him to be happy. What was wrong with her, why had she not been able to move on when he had done it perfectly?

“I don’t want to lose you again” he said. “I care about you. A lot. And I don’t believe I will be better off without you.”

She had to laugh. But even she could hear that it was bitter.

That had been the reason exactly for why she had not gone to him earlier. She knew none of them would be able to step away. But she had to do it. For him.

“You will be, trust me. If you know what’s good for you, you should leave now. Go home to your wife, to your son. Care about them, live your life, forget about me. I’m doing fine, I promise.”

“Both you and I know I won’t be able to let you leave again. I just got you back. We can be friends.”

The despair in his voice was enough to break her in the middle. But he knew just as well as she did that they would never be able to be just friends. It was everything or nothing at all, as it had always been for them. And nothing at all was the only possible option.

She turned to look at him.

“You know we can’t. We won’t be able to do that. Just this week we have proven that staying away from each other is something we’re not good at. I thought that after ten years I would be fine, but still I came crawling back to you. And now you’re here.”

He sighed, looking down at the floor.

“You’re right. I want to kiss you so badly right now.”

And she wanted to kiss him so badly that she couldn’t put words to it. But she couldn’t do that. She was an awful person for even considering it, but she would be even worse if she actually did it.

“You’re married” she managed to force out, in a last, desperate, attempt to not let it happen.

But somewhere deep down they both knew that it was inevitable.

“I know” he said.

Fuck it.

“Kiss me.”

He did kiss her. For a moment she was just still, processing that she was actually kissing him again after so many years. Then she pressed herself against him, tried to come as close as she possibly could. She felt her tongue slide along her bottom lip and she eagerly opened her mouth for him.

All the thoughts of his wife and his two sons, both the one he knew of and the one he didn’t, were gone. It was just them.

Catelyn had never believed that she would be the kind of person to have sex with someone she knew was married. But apparently she was. But it wasn’t just “someone”, it was Ned. And Ned would always be hers, as she would always be his. Despite all the consequences.

When she fell back on the bed, trying to regain her breath, it all came rushing over her. She had so many questions spinning around in her head.

“Oh my gods, what have we done?” she breathed, not looking at Ned.

“Exactly what we both knew we would do. It would have happened sooner or later anyway. It always does.”

“It always does” she repeated, knowing it to be true. “We’re terrible, aren’t we?”

“More or less.”

It had been a lot better two minutes earlier. She had not been thinking, all that had existed had been pleasure of having him back in her arms. He had still remembered all the tricks and ways to make her come completely undone in a way no one else had ever managed to do. She had tried dating a couple of times, but it had always been for nothing, because no one could match what he could do.

“Your wife, what’s her name?” she asked.

“Ashara.”

“I feel sorry for her. Why did you marry her?”

“I thought you and I were over. But we’ll probably never be.”

“We can be. This can be a onetime thing” she tried. “You can go home to her and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

Ned snorted.

“We both know that won’t happen. We’re weak, Cat.”

“Do you love her?”

“I think so.”

“Then why are you here with me?”

“Because I love you as well.”

It would be better if she didn’t say it. And everything in her screamed at her not to say it. But still she did it. Because, as Ned had put it, she was weak.

“I love you too. But we can’t continue this.”

“No, we cannot.”

“But we will, won’t we?” she sighed.

She didn’t want to be his mistress. But she knew herself, she knew that she would happily keep on seeing him in secret as long as that meant that she could see him. She was pathetic. And she loved him.

“Most likely.”

She pushed herself up on one elbow so that she could kiss him. It was a much softer kiss than before, it spoke of different things.

“I’m sorry” she mumbled when she broke away. “I’m sorry for doing this to you.”

“I think this is on both of us” he said.

That brought a smile to her face, but she didn’t know exactly why.

“The difference is that I don’t have anything to lose. I don’t have a husband, it’s just me and my son. You do have something to lose, you have your wife.”

“I know.”

He got up from the bed, started gathering his clothes from the floor. She laid there, watched him while he dressed so that he could go home to his wife. No matter how much she disliked it she would always be the other woman, the affair. Ashara would be his first, she would always go first. Catelyn had to be happy with being second.

“When will I see you next time?” he asked.

“You shouldn’t be asking for a ‘next time’” she reminded him.

“I shouldn’t be having sex with you either, but here I am.”

“Shouldn’t we at least try not to?” Catelyn asked.

“We should.”

“So no next time.”

“No next time.”

His eyes met hers just before leaving the bedroom. And if they hadn’t been sure of that there would definitely be a “next time” before, they were in that moment.

“Goodbye, Cat” he said, despite that. “Take care of yourself.”

“Goodbye, Ned.”

Catelyn had never been more confused, but at the same time sure of what she wanted. She was happy to have Ned back in her life, and sad because they weren’t able to be together as they had been before. She felt bad for Ashara and the boy, Jon, while at the same not caring at all about them. All she knew was that she loved Ned. Like the absolute idiot that she was.

***

I honestly don’t know what this is, but it sure is something.

The Ashara mentioned as Ned’s wife is Ashara Dayne, their son is the Jon Snow, Cat’s boy is Robb. The rest of the starklings are not present, but who knows about the future? I’m also not saying that Ned is right in cheating on his wife or that Cat is right in participating in it, that’s very much a dick move, I’m just exploring the scenario.

#my fic #consequences #Catelyn Tully #Catelyn Stark #Ned Stark #ned x catelyn #Ned x Cat

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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

Text

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]

Also on AO3

Chapter 12: Martin Prime

As soon as he heard the bedroom door shut behind Tim, Martin turned towards Jon. He didn’t even get his mouth all the way open to say anything before Jon’s hands were on his face, and then Jon was kissing him.

It was their first kiss in far too long, since Martin had kissed Jon goodbye and promised to see him on the other side, and thank God it still felt the way it had before. A part of Martin had worried that things would be different—now that they were in the past, now that their plan was on its way, now that Martin was blind. This went a long way to reassuring him that they weren’t, though. Nothing had changed between them.

He gripped Jon’s elbows to hold him still. Jon’s hands dropped from Martin’s face and slid around his neck, seeming to try and pull him closer, although honestly if they got any closer Jon would be inside Martin’s rib cage. He also somehow managed to deepen the kiss, which Martin wouldn’t have thought possible a second previously. He closed his eyes and gave himself completely over to the moment.

The need for air was the only reason they separated, even a little bit. Martin rested his forehead against Jon’s and reveled in the simple fact that they were together again. It had probably been a good thing that they’d had these two weeks apart—it had given Martin a chance to prove to himself, and hopefully to Jon, that he could manage on his own—but he wasn’t going to deny that he’d missed him, and that he wanted him there as much as possible.

Something wet hit his chin, and it took Martin a second to realize what it was. Jon was crying.

“Jon?” he asked, unable to hide the worry in his voice. He reached up hesitantly to cup Jon’s cheek and rub his thumb across it, catching the tear tracks coursing down it.

“I was afraid I’d lost you,” Jon whispered. Martin could feel his sweater bunching up into his hands. “I was so damned—sure of myself. I told myself, when I let you follow the Keeper into that door, I told myself it would be okay, that whatever was hiding you from the Eye, from Jonah, I-I was sure it wouldn’t keep you from me, that I’d be able to find you, that I could Know you wherever you were, and then I couldn’t and I—I kept telling myself you were fine, you had to be fine, that I’d see you when I got to the Archives and you’d fuss at me for trying to get in your head and then we’d laugh about it, and then I got to the Institute and I saw all that chaos a-and I couldn’t find you, you weren’t there—”

“Jon. Jon, it’s okay, I’m okay,” Martin soothed. He pulled Jon’s head down to his shoulder, then began rubbing his back in slow, gentle circles with his free hand. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

“It’s n—” Jon’s voice started rising, but he checked himself and hissed, “It’s not okay. I promised you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, and then everything almost happened to you. You were in the middle of Jane Prentiss’s attack, again, but this time you were alone and blind and helpless—”

“I’m not helpless,” Martin interrupted. He was rather proud of the fact that he managed not to say that in an angry or petulant tone, but quietly and firmly. All right, yes, he was a little pissed at Jon for thinking of him that way, but he did get where Jon was coming from. Still, he’d done perfectly well for himself on his own. He honestly didn’t know if he would have been able to do as well as he’d done if he hadn’t spent time with Melanie before…everything, but he’d done it. He could still handle himself.

All the tension and fight went out of Jon in one long exhale, and he sagged against Martin. “No,” he agreed quietly. “You’re not.”

They held each other for a long moment of silence. Martin could feel Jon trembling, and he guessed it wasn’t all nerves. “Come on,” he said at last. “Let’s at least lie down. When’s the last time you slept?”

“Ah—yesterday? Day before, technically?” Jon stepped back a little, but didn’t let go of Martin. “The—the bed’s over here.”

Since Martin was completely unfamiliar with Tim’s bedroom—he’d only even been to his house once—he let Jon lead him. Getting ready for bed was easy enough, as was crawling into it, the movements more than half-mechanical. Jon pulled the covers up over both of them and immediately curled into Martin’s chest. They both sighed in near unison.

“I’ve been worried about you,” Martin murmured, running a hand through Jon’s hair. He tried to be gentle about working through the knots he encountered. “How long have you been…here?”

“In the past? About a week. Six days, more like.” Jon sighed and tucked his head into the crook of Martin’s neck. He fit there like he was a part of Martin’s body. “I just got to London earlier this evening, though. How—you said you’d been here two weeks. Where did you…come through?”

“The Archives. I think I was in one of the back corners.” Martin bit his lip. “Wasn’t sure where I was at first, until I heard Tim’s voice. What about you?”

“The safe house. I should have expected that, really, but it still hurt knowing you weren’t there. And…walking out the door was harder than I expected it to be.”

“At least the sky wasn’t blinking at you.”

“It took me a bit to convince myself that it wouldn’t before I could open the door.”

Martin wanted to laugh, but he knew Jon was in earnest. “I’m sorry. I wish I’d been there to help you.”

“And I wish I’d been in the Archives to help you. I—I know you don’t need it. I know you’re…I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

“Do what? Stop Jane Prentiss?” Martin frowned. “You did the first time—”

“You may recall that I didn’t do all that much, except make statements and slow everybody down,” Jon interrupted. “It was mostly you and Tim. Some Sasha, and…but that’s not really what I meant.” He reached up and brushed a trembling hand over Martin’s eyes. “I wouldn’t have been able to handle being alone and blind. I’d have been completely lost without you.”

“Well…I mean, I was, too. I even told the others that just before you showed up,” Martin admitted. “It’s just…I’m used to being alone, I guess? There was…I never had anyone to take care of me, other than myself, so I learned how from a pretty early age. Worrying about me was something that happened when I didn’t have anyone else’s needs to worry about, and that almost never happened. I’m always lost.”

“You’re not now,” Jon said fiercely. He pulled Martin’s head down for a kiss. “But that’s my point, Martin. If our positions had been switched, I wouldn’t have lasted two weeks on my own. I’d have broken completely. You’re…so much stronger than I am.”

Martin snorted. “I’m stubborn. There’s a difference.”

“You’re both,” Jon said. Martin didn’t need to see him to know he was smiling—it was obvious in the affection in his voice. “Almost everyone we’ve encountered has mentioned that. It doesn’t change the fact that I couldn’t have done half of what you did. Let alone without getting everyone else hurt, if not killed. You did that.”

“Luck.” Martin hesitated. “I…I couldn’t really…Jon, the others, are they really okay?”

“They’re fine,” Jon assured him. “Except for…well, you. I’m sorry. It—it looks like their Martin took the brunt of the worms. But I didn’t even see so much as a hole on anyone else.”

Martin sighed in relief. “I can live with that.”

They fell silent for a while. Martin concentrated on the weight of Jon’s head against his shoulder, the thud of his heartbeat against his side, the warmth and softness of his skin under his hands. For as little time as they’d had together, or at least how little time they’d had before the world had ended and their clinging had been more desperate than loving, this was still so familiar, so comforting. Martin knew exactly where was safe to touch and where wasn’t, where Jon was overly sensitive and where he had no feeling at all. He literally didn’t need to see a thing.

“You know what’s bothering me the most?” he said at last.

“You don’t know what Sasha looks like?” Jon guessed.

“I don’t—are you reading my mind?” Martin felt his lips quirk upwards in a smile. Just a few months ago (or…whatever the actual span of time since the end of the world had been, he was guessing here), the very idea would have made him indignant, but now it was almost delightful.

“Is it wrong to say ‘I wish’?” Jon chuckled slightly, then sighed. “No. I—even right here with you, I can’t…it was the same with Melanie. Your eyes don’t work, so the Eye can’t use them. I just…know you. Lowercase know. And honestly, I wouldn’t have realized that was her if I hadn’t recognized her voice from the old tapes.”

Martin kissed the top of Jon’s head lightly. It was the closest thing to an apology he would be able to give for something Jon would fuss at him if he tried to actually apologize for. “So? What does she look like?”

Jon hummed. “Well, she’s tall. Not quite as tall as Tim, but taller than me, at least, which must have irritated me at some point. Slender, but…curvy, I guess? Not as waifish as the Not-Sasha was. Long dark hair, brown eyes. Glasses, too—the cat’s-eye type, you know what I mean?”

Martin frowned, trying to remember. “Are they…purple?”

“Yes. Wait. How do you know that? Could you see them?”

Jon sounded so hopeful, Martin hated to break his heart, probably as much as Jon had hated to admit he couldn’t actually read Martin’s mind. “I found a pair like that in the Archives once. While you were off on your world tour, I think. Tim made some snide remark about them being possessed or infused with evil energy or something like that, since they pretty obviously weren’t reading glasses.”

“Oh.” Sure enough, Jon deflated against Martin. “I hated that I didn’t recognize her. We were arguably friends for years and I—I didn’t recognize her.”

“That’s…kind of a good thing, though?” Martin didn’t exactly mean to make it a question, but he was uncertain. He hadn’t known Sasha as long as Jon had, even though he’d been with the Institute longer than the entire rest of the Archives staff put together. “I mean, if you did recognize her…it would have meant that she got taken by…”

“The Stranger. I know. I—God, I’m going to have to tell her tomorrow I looked into her head. You know I’m trying not to do that, but—I had to know if she was all right. When I realized the Institute had been attacked…”

“I think she’ll forgive you. I mean, it’s not like you did it for fun.”

“Still.” Jon suddenly tensed. “The table—has it been—?”

“Not yet,” Martin assured him. “Or if it has, someone else signed for the delivery. But I told…my counterpart to let me know if it did happen.” He paused. “Jon, what are we actually going to do with that table?”

“I don’t know. The—the Other was bound by it, not to it, so I’m reluctant to destroy it and risk unleashing it on the Institute. At the same time…”

“Someone’s bound to study it eventually,” Martin completed. “What about sending up a copy of the statement talking about it? I mean, they’ve got the calliope locked up. Maybe if they know how dangerous it is, they’ll let it be.”

“Maybe.” Jon didn’t sound sure. “I—I don’t know enough about the people in Artifact Storage to know how they’d react. We can ask Sasha. She wasn’t there long, but she might know more than, well, the rest of us.” He sighed. “I’m just glad she’s all right. I—I wasn’t sure if we’d even know if she got taken. If we’d get muddled and forget that the voice wasn’t the same.”

Thinking about it gave Martin a headache. “Thankfully, she wasn’t. And your counterpart didn’t get hurt. Or Tim.”

“I worried about that, too. I don’t know how much of…the way he was at the end there was because of the Stranger and how much was because of the worms and how much was just…the general atmosphere of the Institute, and the Archives specifically, but I’m sure him turning into a sieve didn’t help.” Jon pressed a kiss to Martin’s collarbone. “And you didn’t get bitten?”

“Not even once,” Martin assured him.

“Good. That’s good.” Jon paused. “Why did you trust Michael?”

“Honestly? I didn’t feel like I had much of a choice.” Martin thought about how to phrase it. Because Jon was absolutely right—the Distortion was incredibly dangerous and untrustworthy, whether Michael or Helen. “He showed up in the tunnels…I don’t remember him doing that when Jane Prentiss attacked us, but maybe it was just because it was in the middle of the day. Or maybe I just wasn’t worth tormenting. But he did this time, and it was, well, it was me or them. Tim and Sasha needed to make it out of the tunnels because Past Me needed to know they were okay. I didn’t want them lost in those corridors for days or weeks on end. And I guess maybe I was hoping it would be less disorientating because I couldn’t see.”

“Was it?”

“Actually, yeah. Or maybe he just made it more…direct.”

Jon snorted. “I can’t see him being so…helpful. Especially not to someone tied to the Archives.”

“Well, I’m not exactly tied to them anymore,” Martin said slowly. “Especially not now. And like he said, I’ve been marked by the Spiral myself, that time Tim and I wound up in his corridors. Mostly, though, I think he was helpful because I told him I’d come back to help save the world.”

“Michael or Helen, I really don’t think the Distortion would care that the world ended.”

“I…might have left out a few key details,” Martin said. He couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. “I told him that the Beholding was the one that had eventually succeeded in its ritual, and that he had been completely and utterly destroyed. He didn’t seem too sure until I described exactly what his hallways looked like, and who he used to be. Then I told him that if he wanted to have any chance not to have those things happen, he’d best let me through safely.”

“God, I love you. Have I told you that lately?”

“Not since you walked in the door, no.”

Martin meant it as a joke, but from the way Jon suddenly went stiff, he realized it hadn’t quite landed. “Good Lord. I—I really haven’t, have I?”

“Well, to be fair, neither have I,” Martin pointed out. “We did have other things to worry about. And, I mean, there’s the whole ‘we’re not going to tell our past selves that we’re in a relationship because we don’t want to rush them’ thing we agreed on. Honestly, Jon, you really think you have to say the words for me to know?”

“No. No, o-of course not. Still…” Jon cupped Martin’s jaw with one hand and kissed him—a soft, tender kiss that spoke volumes, even before he said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Again they fell into a silence, one less heavy than before but still weighted. Martin was tired—not as tired as the others had to be, but still tired—but he was reluctant to sleep just yet. He was perfectly content to lie there with Jon, enjoying the nearly-forgotten sensation of not being in imminent danger for once. The last time they’d been able to rest like this had been…well, all right, Salesa’s house, which didn’t really count with Annabelle Cane creeping about and Jon growing steadily weaker the longer he was cut off from the Eye. They hadn’t been able to relax this much, really, since before the world ended. And there was no telling how long they’d be able to relax now, so Martin was determined to enjoy it for however long it lasted.

He almost thought Jon had fallen asleep until he spoke again. “How much have you told them?”

It took Martin a second to realize what Jon was asking. “Not a lot. They only got here a few minutes before you did, really, and that was the first time I met Past You when he knew I wasn’t, well, Past Me. All I’ve told him so far, that you weren’t here for anyway, was that I was from the future and that we were here to save the world, and that the statements on the tapes were real. And, well, you heard how much Tim and Sasha knew. I told Past Me a bit more, but not much. Just that the Fears exist and that one of them runs the Institute.” He paused. “Actually, he—put things together pretty quickly, but I didn’t go into details. I suppose he’s figured it out, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I told him about the Fears…he asked if one of them had something to do with spiders, and when I said yes, he asked if that was why you hated them so much. I didn’t put it together until I heard your tape about that damned Leitner.”

Jon made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “When did you listen to that tape? I—well, I’m not upset, obviously, and I would have…but I don’t remember actually giving it to you.”

Martin bit his lip. “It was…it was while you were in your coma, actually. I listened to all of them. Every tape I could find. I told myself I was trying to fill in the missing pieces, to find out the things you’d known so I could keep the Archives running for you, because I had to believe you’d be back, but…really I just needed to hear your voice.”

“I know how that goes,” Jon said softly. “Honestly, it’s why I listened to all those tapes you were leaving for me as soon as I did. And the ones you did while I was…gone before.” He paused. “Wait…did you listen to the official tapes or the ones I recorded for myself?”

“Both. I didn’t know they were the same cases at first, but…well, the first time I realized I was listening to something I’d already heard, I went ahead and listened all the way to the end.” Martin tightened his arms around Jon without really thinking about it. “God, I felt awful about them. You were going through so much and I didn’t even notice…”

“Martin, no, it—you did notice. I honestly don’t know that I would have survived those months if you hadn’t been looking out for me. Even when I all but accused you of murder, you still looked out for me.” Jon hugged Martin tighter, too. “No one could have done more for me than you did. What happened wasn’t your fault. It’s never been your fault.”

Martin wasn’t sure how much he believed that, but he also wasn’t going to argue, not right now. They’d have plenty of time to argue later, he supposed. And really, if that was the worst thing they had to fight about, he could live with that. “Still. I wish there’d been something else I could have done.”

“Just as I wish I could have done more for you when you were working with Peter Lukas. We did what we could with what we had.” Jon sighed. “It will have to be enough. We can’t change it now—not for ourselves, anyway. And hopefully we can keep our past selves from ever having to face that.”

Martin hummed in agreement. “Jon…do you think we can? That we can actually keep Past You from being…marked by any more powers before we can take out…you know?” He left out the question that had been haunting him during the nights he lurked in the Archives: Could they even take out Jonah Magnus? He’d thwarted their efforts once before, after all, and even though they were in the past now, it wouldn’t be easy. “I know you can��t Know the future or hypotheticals or anything like that. I’m asking for your opinion. What do you think?”

For a long moment, Jon didn’t answer. Finally, he said quietly, “I don’t think we can keep him completely free of marks. Michael…wants his revenge. Despite your warning, I think he’ll go after Past Me at some point regardless.” He pondered for a moment. “Before the Unknowing. We’ve got to take him out before then.”

Martin didn’t question which him Jon was talking about. “Tim’s not going to be happy about us taking away his shot at revenge.”

“If there was a safe way of disrupting it, I’d be all for it, but I don’t think there is.”

“Jon, the whole point is that the rituals can’t succeed,” Martin pointed out. “It’s going to collapse under its own weight anyway, right? Why does he have to disrupt it right at the height of the ritual? Why not just…plant the stuff and let him press the button from a safe distance?”

Jon paused. “That…God, why didn’t I think of that? Of course, you’re absolutely right. As long as they’re all there, it…it doesn’t matter how far along it is.”

Martin could hear the exhaustion in Jon’s voice. He was about to ask if Jon was sure he’d slept within the last week when it hit him all of a sudden. Quietly, he asked, “When’s the last time you took a statement?”

The split-second pause before Jon answered told Martin everything he needed to know. “I’m fine.”

“Not what I asked.”

Jon sighed heavily. “I’ve done a couple small ones for myself since I came back, and, well, I was in the room when they gave their statements. It…took the edge off, at least.”

“Yeah, but it’s not enough. You’re starving, Jon.”

“What do you want me to do, start…pouncing people on the streets? You stopped me from doing that once before, and you were right, but—”

“I can give you one,” Martin said. He pressed a finger to Jon’s lips, forestalling his immediate refusal. “No, listen to me. You need a statement. And you’ve been without one so long, it’s got to be…fresh. Besides, I know you want to know what my trip back here was like. That’s…definitely a statement.” And it’ll probably keep you going for a while, he didn’t say. What he’d experienced, in a place he hadn’t expected to feel much fear, had nearly undone him, would have undone him if the Keeper hadn’t intervened at probably the last possible moment. But if there was anyone he wanted to have it, it was Jon.

“I don’t want you to keep destroying yourself to help me,” Jon whispered.

“Gotowe zdrowie, kto chorobie powie.” Martin quoted one of the old Polish proverbs his grandfather had taught him when he was little. He didn’t bother translating. One of Jon’s “gifts” from the Beholding was the ability to understand languages spoken at him, at least sometimes. He couldn’t speak them necessarily, but he could understand them, when the Eye felt it was important. He also knew that Jon didn’t always realize he was doing it. “Let me do something for you, Jon. Please.”

There was a long silence before Jon said, “Tomorrow. Not tonight. Just…I didn’t start seeing Melanie again after she—quit, but just in case it—one more night without nightmares.”

“Okay,” Martin agreed. “Tomorrow it is. After we’ve answered some questions, how’s that?”

“That’s…honestly better than I expected. I thought you’d try to make me do it first thing in the morning.” Jon sounded relieved.

“I’m trying to meet you halfway here.” They were both stubborn as hell—Martin probably worse than Jon, if he was being honest—but they were learning to make concessions to one another. As badly as Martin wanted to force Jon to just take the damn statement already, he also knew that the need for statements was the one part of the Archivist package Jon still hated. More so after what Jonah Magnus had done to him, done through him. And Jon was right about there being a chance taking his statement would mean both of them had to experience it in their nightmares. It was a chance they’d have to take, though.

“So am I.” Jon exhaled. “I…I don’t know how I’m going to do this. How to find the balance between keeping them safe and not keeping them in the dark. And how to do it without…manipulating them. Without forgetting that they’re people, not pieces on a game board.”

“That’s what I’m here for. To help you.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Martin twirled a strand of Jon’s hair around his finger idly. “I don’t want to ever have to find out.”

Jon snuggled against Martin’s chest, and he felt the butterfly kiss of his eyelashes fluttering shut. “Neither do I.”

Translation of the proverb: “Ready the health, who shares the disease.” English equivalent: “A problem shared is a problem halved.”

#ollie writes fanfic #the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#blind!martin #time travel fix it au

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