#to the point where Blaze orders him not to look at the price because otherwise he will not let her buy it for him

[hedgehog-university-au]

Okay so Silver obviously isn't from a destroyed future in this AU but I think a good parallel would be growing up homeless. Living in a constant state of crisis, not knowing where his next meal was coming from. He only made it to Hedgehog University through sheer effort and a ton of scholarships, and showed up first day with nothing but a sleeping bag and what he could fit inside one duffel bag. He worries a lot about creating a "good future" for himself where he has stability and doesn't have to worry about struggling to survive.

Also there's a lot of interesting little habits and traits that could go along with this. He's always super friendly and trying to help everyone because he knows how much he appreciated even the slightest offer of help. He constantly sneaks snacks out of the dining hall and keeps them stashed in his room because he has anxiety about not having food. Everything he owns is about to fall apart or held together by twenty layers of duct tape because you don't get rid of something that is still useable, and you certainly don't buy something new unless it's an absolute emergency.

[martellthemandalor]

Assistance - Chapter 4

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (No Y/N, reader is nicknamed)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of drugs, fire, Mando is too stubborn for his own good

Rating: 15

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Mando has no self preservation instincts and the sunset takes you back to a less than pleasant memory.

A/N: This is possibly my favourite chapter i’ve written yet, feedback is always appreciated!

Masterlist!

You’d left the soft comfort of the forest a long while back, and now the glaring sun was beating down onto the two of you once again, leaving you damp and antsy under the heat. You hooked your fingers into the neckline of the thin cotton that lay beneath your heavy armour and tugged on it gently, hoping to displace it from the sheen of sweat that had settled across your chest and provide some small relief. 

The sparse conversation between you and the Mandalorian had died since emerging into the swelter, both of you saving energy to just keep on walking. You had been rationing out drinking your supply of water, savouring every sweet drop your pouches gave you. You thanked Maker for the hot afternoon that you had spent on Felucia upgrading them to have heat exchange apparatus with spare coolant system parts from Astrid, for it meant that where you would have been desperately drinking lukewarm water to stay hydrated you could now ration it out further due to the cool liquid being more refreshing. 

Where you had been drinking regularly however, your assistant for this quarry had not been. And while you weren’t known for you caring nature, you knew you’d feel a modicum of guilt if Tin Can died in the middle of nowhere with only you for company.

“You should drink something,” You stated to him.

“I’m fine,” he responded, his voice sounding rougher than before through the vocoder. You stopped walking and rolled your eyes at him, swaying your whole head with the motion, turning to face him.

“Yeh you sound it,” you griped, holding out your water pouch to him “Just take it, I’ll walk ahead- I won’t look,” You emphasised when he held up his hand to interrupt you. Stepping forward you thrust the pouch onto his chest, watching him grasp it to his chest when you released your grip. You didn’t waste any time in turning back to the path your eyepiece was showing you and walking ahead. You almost screamed in frustration when you felt him grip your forearm and shove the pouch back into your hand.

“I don’t need it.”

You could’ve punched him honestly. How much of a laserbain was he? You could hear in his voice how much he needed it. Your patience was already stretched thin being on damn rock, you didn’t need a stubborn Tin Can making your life harder. You span on your heel, jabbing your finger into his chest, leaning forward so close to his visor you swore you could hear his breathing.

“Banthashit Mandalorian. What do you think I’m giving you the water for huh? It’s not out of the kindness of my bleeding heart, I’d like you alive for this fucking quarry because your assistance is valuable. If you want to kill yourself by dehydrating yourself on this Maker forsaken dirtball then go ahead, I don’t give two bantha ticks but know I’m not dragging your body back to the city, I will leave you out here to rot. Whether you live or die is on you, so which is it?” You hissed at him, punctuating your points by pushing your finger into his chest harder and harder, making him rock backwards. 

The silence between you was deafening, a stubborn standoff of metal and flesh and you could swear you could feel his stare scorching against your own. Maker above you were damn sure you weren’t going to back down first. You felt the grip on your forearm lessen slowly, stars had he really kept his grip on you this long? 

You turned the hand holding the water pouch palm up, letting the white plastic and circuitry rest across the circumference of your splayed fingers. Your gazes never left each other, not for a second, and you could feel his eyes locked firmly onto yours through that expressionless visor. An eternity seemed to pass by before the pressure of the pouch lifted off your hand and his grip on your arm disappeared completely. You took a step back and cleared your throat.

“Good choice.” You turned away from him and started walking away, following the blue line that mapped out your path. 

The Mandalorian watched as you walked away, looking for any sign that were going to turn back and look, but true to your word you kept you head straight, walking a steady pace that he could easily catch up to. Once sure that there was no one else around, he slowly lifted his helmet, exposing his skin to the blazing sun. Without the protection of his visor the glare of the star flooded his vision with light, causing his eyes to sting. 

Time was of the essence here, he knew that, so he made quick work of opening the catch at the top of the pouch and drinking as much as his stomach could hold. It wasn’t his intention to drink most of it, but once the water hit his tongue it felt like pure spice that spread across his being, and just like spice it was impossible to stop taking until it was too much. 

He wiped his mouth unceremoniously with the back of his gloved hand before leaning down to pick up his helmet from where it nestled into the mottled crimson and ochre grass. Straightening up he positioned on the crown on his head, ready for it to resume its usual place, when he paused. His eyes swept the terrain, taking in as much of the beautifully vibrant colour that the heads up display in his helmet usually denied him. He sighed, gently pushing the metal casing over his head, feeling it settle back into place. This is the way, he harshly reminded himself as he set off after you.

You had kept your pace steady, eyes locked on the path ahead. Once you were sure you were far enough away from the Mandalorian you looked to the floor and pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation. Of all the damn Mandalorian’s to employ, you’d managed to find the one with no self-preservation instincts at all. Your heart was still beating hard after your patience had snapped, so you tried to content yourself by listening to the sounds around you. 

You weren’t surprised that there wasn’t many, the rustling of leaves in the bushes and the occasional call of a Calenowa bird was all there really was. Detsak wasn’t exactly known for its vibrant wildlife anymore, which you were more than fine with. Now however you could hear rhythmic footsteps getting closer, he must be running because up until this point you’d never heard evidence of movement from him. As he drew up alongside your eye was caught by the motion of the cape. 

You had to admit that as impractical as it was, you did like the look. His arm extended to you, holding the mostly empty white pouch out level to your stomach as you walked, once again, in sync. You took it off his hands, raising an eyebrow at him as you felt how much lighter it was.

“Thank you,” He said sincerely, his rich toned voice now returned, “Sorry I drank most of it, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Its fine, you needed it.” A smug ‘I told you so’ smile started to tug at the corners of your lips as you took the pouch from his leather clad hand and clipped it back onto your thigh holster. It never managed to play across your full face though, as a rhythmic and loud beeping piped into your ear making you jump. You froze, arm flying out towards the Mandalorian causing him to stop too, and looked around the field, eyes locking ahead at the many blinking dots now showing on your eyepiece display. Mother of moons. They filled the next field, the one you and your assistant were mere seconds away from crossing into.

“What’s wrong,” the Mandalorian queried.

“We can’t go through this field, hang on let me calibrate another route,” You responded calmly, ignoring the spike in your heartrate you began manipulating the control panel on your cuff, inputting new instructions.

“Why? We can pass right through this field its clear,”

“No it isn’t,” you sharply responded. You input the last of the commands and watched as your display changed, you turned until you were facing the new direction of the blue line. Shifting your focus beyond it you could see it was leading you down a narrow track which was lined by tall thick bushes and shaded by trees. Perfect, you thought, at least this meant you’d both be in the shade again to. It would of course extend your journey, you weren’t sure how much by, but it was a small price to pay all things considered. “This way,” You stated as you began walking.

“There’s nothing in that field,” He protested, not following after you. Maker above why can’t he just listen to you? You turned to him, running a hand through your hair as sighed.

“That whole field is made up of Letaph, otherwise known as the grasping soil, some fields on this planet are made up of it, you go in there and you’re not coming out, now come on,” you ordered, continuing to walk towards the secluded path. He knew he didn’t have a choice and while he suspected you were lying to him again, you were the one in charge here and if he wanted to get paid he had to follow your orders. He caught up to you; his long quite strides meant he drew up beside you quickly. Once you hit the shade of the trees you were both hit with a wave of relief, finally shaded from the unforgiving sun again. 

You much preferred it here, the muted tones were a welcome calm from the abrasive bold colour of the fields. By this point you and Tin Can had been walking all day and you would be lying to yourself if you said that you weren’t tired.

You wondered if the Mandalorian was feeling the same, but you didn’t have the energy to start a conversation, especially in the knowledge that you would be doing 90% of the talking. Another hour or so had passed by when you spotted the end of the track, an opening bathed orange light from the slowly sinking sun. You thought your eyes were playing tricks on you, but when you zoomed in on the horizon using the eyepiece your suspicions were confirmed.

“Mandalorian, there’s a barn at the end of the track,” You commented, nudging your assistant in the arm and nodding in the direction of the opening. He was silent for a moment, visor fixated on the distance.

“You’re right, what are you thinking?” He queried, looking across at you.

“Seems like a good place to stop for the night, better than trying to camp out in the middle of a field somewhere,”

“Agreed.”

-

Upon reaching the barn you and the Mandalorian had discovered that is was part of a small farm. You had told the Mandalorian to stand behind you and not speak while you knocked on the door and spoke to the owners, a young couple and their parents. You asked if you and the Mandalorian could stay the night in the barn, telling them that you both had been walking all day and it would be a galaxy’s gift if you could rest somewhere warm and dry, and that you could pay. 

When asked why you were out here you span a spiel about tracking down long lost family, about a sister who ran away to here with her lover so they could start again and how desperate you were to find her. They didn’t ask any questions beyond that, said that you were welcome to use the barn and even invited the two of you in for some warm bone broth. 

You could practically feel the Mandalorian’s spirit drop, yet another meal he couldn’t partake in, so you politely declined the offer of coming in, instead asking if you could take some to the barn to eat there. The family were more than happy with that, and sent you to the barn with two big bowls of broth, mugs of Krilten juice along with blankets and pillows. 

That’s how you got to where you were now, sat beside the wooden doors of the barn, making sure no one went in, eating your warm bone broth and watching the sun set across the fields. You scraped the last of the broth out of the bowl, making sure to get every last drop. Sure you had enough food for the journey, but nothing shaped up to the homemade soup you had just consumed. Resting your head against the rough mud wall, you let yourself get lost in the colours unfolding in front of you. 

The sky had gone from a brilliant blue to layers of a soft gradient, from the hot crimson of the sun spreading out to a soft gold tinge that unfurled across open expanse above you. You let your eyes drift shut, the soft warmth of the evening and the gentle breeze passing across your body relaxing you more than you thought you could on a planet like this. It could almost be called peaceful.

That was until the red light behind your eyes and the heat of the sun against your eyelids slid you deep into your memory.

Flames. It was all you could see. Reaching and curling all around you. The searing fury of their tendons licking against your skin as you tried to run, painting your complexion with angry blemishes of scarlet. It didn’t matter though, none of it mattered, you just had to get them, get close to them. Save them. Those words imprinted on your memory forever, chanted again and again like a prayer. Save them. Run faster, fight harder, aim better. Save th-

The squeak of the door opening next to you jolted you from your daydream, startling you to sit bolt upright. You looked down at your trembling hands, folding them in your lap to try and stem the visible shaking as the Mandalorian’s familiar frame poked out of the door.

“You can come back in if you want, thank you for sitting out here,” He spoke, his tone gentle through the vocoder. You gave him a small smile, then got up on unstable legs, picked your bag up and followed him into the barn.

Next Chapter

[kittensjonsa]

Otherwise, Engaged

The Proposal AU. 

Summary: Flashbacks. A discussion on consent, freedom and independence. Jon finds his heart again -  and the burden of feelings that comes with it. 

Note: Some angst and a backstory.. before the hot smut can begin, of course! Hence, the length of this one. Sorry not sorry. Rated M.

Chapters 1 - 6 

Chapter 7

THREE YEARS EARLIER

“Sansa!”

Sansa wanted to run. Run away from it all. From everyone and especially her mother.

“Honey, please.. just let her be,” Sansa heard her father’s calm voice behind her as she stomped past the hallway and out the door.

Yes, just let me be. Be my own person and away from anything Winterfell or anyone named Stark.

It wasn't so much of the place or the people, it was just the fact of the importance of being a Stark she has had to deal with all her life. Grow up, live and breathe Winterfell. True that she was indeed very much a Northern girl and every bit a Stark but she still had her own character and personality, her own person - didn't that count for anything?

“So, here's our new guy, Jon Snow. Someone you all are familiar with I am sure,” Jeor gave Jon's shoulder a firm squeeze as the introductions made their rounds at the table. Jon smiled and nodded at the elderly gentlemen and a lady seated with them. Jon spoke very little and merely listened throughout the dinner. Jon realised very quickly that it was all business and had little to do with him, managing polite yes-es and a laugh at every dull joke every once in a while. Besides, he was far more concerned about getting his affairs in order and with so many accounts under his name, Jon feared he desperately needed an assistant. My brain can only handle so much, great as it is.

It had only been two weeks since the move into the swanky corner office of Mormont & Sons Publishing and it had been dinner every night as Jeor insisted on making sure Jon and his talent was right smack in the faces of the right people. Small price to pay for being the new hot shot editor in town.

“Hey Ryan, if you have a minute, send me some resumes my way would you? You know, for the opening for the exec assistant? Haven't heard anything from HR.”

Jon was ignored as Ryan, the HR head only continued his conversation on his phone. A token nod greeted Jon as Ryan finally waved a hello to him, patting down a pile of papers in a corner of his desk, his ear still glued to the phone. Jon wasn't sure what that meant but perhaps he was pointing out to the resumes the department had received along with the personal assistant posting. It was obvious Ryan did not really care if he existed or not.

Jon Snow was just another name on the payroll, amongst hundreds of others. Ryan had his work cut out for him indefinitely, though Jon couldn't care less, as long as he got the right person he wanted for the job. Another name on the payroll. Sorry, Ryan. Jon decided to help himself to the pile seeing how busy Ryan was, the active lines on his phone on hold blinking impatiently.

“Oh right, yeah. So, there are already some here you might want to look at. Sandra already found hers and these were the shortlisted ones. They seem promising.”

Sighing, Jon took the messy folder off the desk.

“Right. Of course. I'll look through them then. Thanks.”

No thanks.

Jon was about to say something about scheduling appointments when he saw Ryan going back to ignoring him as soon he got on the phone again.

Looks like I'm on my own. Story of my life, ain't it.

Jon stared tiredly at the piece of paper before him. This was the last resume from the pile of rejects Sandra had left him. The only piece of resume was from, quite possibly the only candidate left worthy of any attention. Jon was exhausted, realising this was tedious work - from the mingling dinners every night to reading manuscripts one after another - he was quite content with an extra pair of hands really. He hardly looked after himself recently. And if he had to eat from another take out box and sleep on the office couch again, he'd quit. So done. There was no way he could do everything himself. Especially the phone calls. Waking up in bed with his phone on his face was something he'd like to avoid as much as possible.

“Sansa Stark, let's see if you're the one,” Jon skimmed through the cover letter.

University of Westeros. Okay good enough.

“Please, please say you can start immediately.”

Jon rubbed his tired eyes as he clicked 'send' and decided he was done for the day. His head was pounding away, drained from all the reading he had done and all he wanted was his bed. He'd check for any emails from a Sansa Stark first thing in the morning. Right now, he needed to sleep and at home, not another night on the couch in his office.

Sansa Stark. God, I need you. Save me.

The blaring alarm had Jon spring out of bed and while he was normally up quite early for his workouts, he was not feeling quite up to it that morning.

Stumbling about, Jon grabbed the first shirt he found his hands on in the closet. It looked decent enough with yesterday's suit jacket over it.

Right, twenty-four hour dry cleaners. That's going on the list.

Twenty four hours never seemed enough ever since he started his new job with the Mormonts. Exhausted was an understatement. Although, now he was a little relieved, looking forward to the next few days when he could sleep a little easier thanks to Sansa Stark. Well, hopefully.

“Mr Snow, your 8.30 is here.” A bored tone greeted him the moment he stepped out into the lobby.

It was too early to choke on his triple shot espresso. "My what?"

“Mr Snow? Hi, I got your email yesterday and I replied, though I wasn't sure if you got it. So... hi, I'm Sansa Stark.”

Oh.

“For the executive assistant post? I figured the HR department knew about our appointment but looks like… nobody's quite in yet.”

A tall, leggy redhead with blazing blue eyes and a smile that lit up the sky.

Ahh...right.. Sansa Stark.

---

Her sultry drawl that lingered on a breathy rasp was his reckoning. Say my name. Again and again. Jon gently brushed away the soft copper locks from the creamy skin of her neck and kissed it. He inhaled deeply, as deep as he could drink her in, hungrily desperate, because this might the first and only time he'd have with her.

Her scent was unmistakable. A heady mix reminiscent of lavender and rose, Jon recalled how it greeted him every morning, almost every day the past three years. He had grown fond of it, comforted by it, knowing that she was a constant at his side. How he looked forward to seeing her leap into his office and greet him with a smile and his favourite coffee. How he noticed the way her lips pursed, poring over pages of manuscripts whilst sat next to him with her long slender legs crossed ever so daintily. Little bits and pieces of her, that if only she knew he'd taken a liking to- Sansa probably wouldn't have despised him so much.

He had chosen this life. He was good at it. There was no compromise on his career because it was the only thing he ever had that was his and his alone. Jon refused for it to be taken away for the sake of a mere whim or an itch to scratch. Years and years of hard work had him where he was right now, and it would have all gone to dust, if he were to ruin everything for the sake of feelings. Feelings he had buried so deep within that are now on the verge of imploding, teetering on losing the one thing he yearned for all his life. Acceptance. And if fate wasn't cheeky enough, it was all Sansa gave him and it was exactly what he needed.

It was fortune that smiled on him, chancing upon a resume his former editors had passed on due to her clear lack of experience. It was his first week at Mormont & Sons and it was clear, with all the new accounts thrown at him, the golden boy of print and press, that he was in dire need of an assistant. As long as they were willing to put in the time and work, Jon wouldn't be picky. Even a naive, inexperienced fresh graduate would do, he told himself that. It was just assistance he needed, nothing more.

Only thing was, he didn't expect a tall beautiful redhead named Sansa Stark to step into his office, all eager and enthusiastic and willing to do whatever it took to be an author of her own right one day. The day Jon couldn't possibly forget. And now, the one person Jon could not lose.

“Sansa…” Jon nibbled at her ears as his hands roamed to parts of her he once longed to touch while his lips quickly found their way lower to her bosom.

Sansa seized a fistful of his curls as his mouth hovered closer to her teats, soft yet hard from arousal. Heaving full mounds of soft flesh so scintillating Jon couldn't help but open his mouth wide and devour them still clothed. She was perfect in every way, just like he had pictured in his mind.

“Oh god… Jon..”

The kiss had gone further than they imagined as Jon and Sansa laid on her bed, a tangled mess of legs and arms caressing every inch of the other. Sansa writhed at every contact his lips made with her skin, with the hem of her dress shifting higher and dangerously above her hips, where his hands and mouth were only a breath away from a place no man had been before.

Sansa groaned at the clothed yet growing hardness stroking against the sides of her thighs as Jon's body moved along with his lips pecking lower and lower below her stomach. Jon had to pause, because if he went on, there would absolutely be no stopping him. He needed to be sure. He needed her to be sure. It was happening indeed, despite his best efforts to control himself.

“Sansa… please.. for the love of God... tell me to stop.. right now.. if you want me to… because I... cannot,” Jon muttered at the end of every kiss as he made his way up to kiss her lips again. Sansa groaned at his touch and responded with a deep kiss, like the one he gave her moments ago. Sansa hissed as Jon's mouth left hers and back to her lower body.

“Jon… don't.. stop.. but.. I have to tell you something,” Sansa answered in between gasps and hisses, her skin burning hot at every lick of Jon's tongue on her belly.

“Tell me… what?” Jon continued in bliss as his mouth found hers again, this time his eyes gazing deeply into hers.

“I…. haven't... done this.. so.. be gentle?” Sansa confessed, blushing as she cupped and kissed his face.

Jon could hear the sound of tyres screeching in brakes in his head. “W-wait… what?”

No... Hold on. Wait.

Jon sat up immediately the moment the reality hit him. He refused to face up to it but he now he had to. It took a moment before Sansa opened her eyes and found Jon sitting at the end of her bed watching her with a frown.

Oh God, what now?

“Jon? What.. why.. what's wrong?”

Jon bit down his lip. Should he ask? Should he say it? Perhaps not. It was an amazing moment they both shared and she gave her consent. True, that was enough, but why did it feel so awfully wrong? Sansa waited but grew impatient. It was a look she had never been acquainted with before and it worried her.

“You mean to tell me.. you haven't done it yet? Shit.. this is not happening.”

What?

Sansa felt the usual annoyance rising in her again and this time it was seething. Suddenly she felt naked and stupid. From a high she didn't want to come down from, it only took minutes to feel like she had been spat out onto the ground.

“What.. why are you being like this, Jon? Why.. why does that matter? I said yes didn't I?” Sansa dared to ask, her eyes filling with tears she didn't expect. Jon only sighed and looked away. Shame. She knew that look well enough.

“Why.. am I not good enough now?”

Jon panicked and hastened to cool the growing tension. “No, that's not what I meant, Sansa. It's just-”

“Just what? How ridiculous it is that I'm here almost topless and you giving me a hickey seconds ago and then.. for posterity's sake, I say I'm a virgin, because you know, I just wanted to let you know since I've never done this before, ever.. and then all of a sudden, you stop and GROW A CONSCIENCE?!”

“No, Sansa that's not what-”

“Then, what the hell do you mean? Because it was was as clear as day when you had your tongue down my throat seconds ago!”

Jon gulped, his eyes slowly meeting hers. “I just.. didn't expect us to-”

“To what? Have sex?” Sansa asked, her voice wavering.

“Sansa, look.. let me just explain, please?” Jon pleaded, lowering his tone and voice, hoping Sansa would do the same. The last thing he wanted was an argument about sex with Sansa under Ned Stark's roof and everyone else hearing them.

“Just say it... I'm not good enough am I? Well, screw you, Jon Snow, you're on your fucking own.”

Sansa wiped away her tears as she hastily put her dress back in order and stood up, wanting to leave. Sansa flinched and almost elbowed him as Jon reached out to console her. He didn't know what to do or say exactly and he did not want to leave nor did he know how. They had come this far and certainly this can't be it. This has gone way, way off course.

“Sansa, please.. listen to me. I.. I don't want to impose anymore than I already have Sansa. Please try to understand that. I can't… lie to your family and then.. take you.. like that... Under these circumstances. This.. just doesn't feel right.. I can't do that to you.”

Sansa blinked as she tried to comprehend what Jon was trying to say.

“Take me? What the hell am I to you? Cattle? So, you're saying if I wasn't untouched and pure like you said, you'd do it? And all of the above?!”

This wasn't going well at all.

“No." Jon paused.

"You're on thin fucking ice, Jon. After all I've done for you.”

Sansa knew the right words to hit right back. Ouch.

“Yes and you deserve better than this! Than all of this right now! You've been.. everything to me since we met. I don't want to ruin this just because I needed dick relief!”

Dick relief. Some editor you are. Jon groaned, exasperated. He was losing, fast.

“How would you know what I want or deserve? Don't I get a say in this? I chose it, yes. I played along with this, yes. Did I want to be intimate with you? Yes! What part of me telling you not to stop meant anything but?”

Sansa sighed and watched the trees sway in the chilly breeze from the balcony. She couldn't face him now. She had become just another conversation, an afterthought.

“It's 2019, you know. My body is mine to give, Jon. It's not for anyone to take. And I wanted to give it to you. It was my choice.”

Ah, fuck. Touché. And I wanted it.

Sansa could hardly believe what was happening. From pure passion one moment, to wiping away tears the next. Of course, it had to be Jon. Sansa had cried tears over the tyranny of the workload he dumped on her, but this.. this was something else.

Sansa turned and sat back down on the bed, seeing Jon seated at the bench, his face in his hands.

“Let me tell you something, mister. Do you know how hard I've worked to find my own two feet? Moving to the city and be a writer some day? All this, without relying on my parents, while being a Stark? Do you know how much I had to give up to get here? I did that on my own, because I chose to. Without any help from my family, knowing how much it hurt them. All my life, I've been told what to do, what to be and how to do it and for the most part, I played along and obliged. But one day I decided, no. I'm going to do my own thing. Myself. And from then on, I decided whatever I choose to do, it would be me who says so."

Sansa sighed, recounting the numerous arguments she had with her mother and the times she's had to skip Skyping her brothers just to prove her point on how well and busy she was doing on her own.

Jon had no idea how it had been for her but he understood what she meant. Sacrifices.

He raised his hands in surrender. It was getting far too deep and deviated away too much from what they had in mind - this wasn't how he wanted the weekend to go. They had one plan and no matter what, they both had to stick to it.

Sansa bit down her lip, struggling not to say too much before it was too late. She had said enough to make her point. Enough of everyone telling her how she should live her life. Enough. Besides, there was nothing to be ashamed about it, Jeyne consoled her once. The whispers behind her back, how she was the ice queen of the North, the ways they all stared at her in university the moment she stepped foot there. Sansa Stark, pride and joy of Winterfell - what shame if she was ruined. Sansa couldn't do that to herself and her parents. Being the eldest daughter of the North's power couple was already hard enough. Sansa assured herself constantly, how there was no one remotely interesting enough to spark any interest anyway. Plus, the Stark name was repellent enough. Everyone knew who her parents were, so nobody dared to try.

“So, all this, fake fiance bullshit? Yeah, I chose it. Me, working for you and staying on despite your royal douche-ness, I chose it. Why is that such a strange concept to you.”

Jon wanted to strangle himself if he could. Or kick himself in the balls, as it would be appropriate. Pretending to be fake-engaged with the threat of five years in prison looming over their heads was one thing, if only he could explain how taking Sansa's untouched body was quite another. And to think he was so close to ruining every single area of Sansa's life just moments ago. He couldn't do it to her.

“Sansa… you don't know.. how much I owe you for this. All of this. And.. man.. the things I want to do to you..” Jon scoffed at the irony of it all.

“Well, now you're just saying that,” Sansa huffed indignantly at the revelation.

Jon reached out to grab her hand but Sansa pulled back.

“No, I'm not this time. Listen, let's just-”

A loud knock jolted both of them back to reality. “Sansy? Can Jon come out and fish with us? Can he? Please?”

Ah, shit. The family.

Jon looked to Sansa for an answer. Clearly they both had forgotten about the day's program.

“Uhh.. yeah. We'll be out in a minute.”

Sansa sat on her bed, watching Jon deliberate his next move.

“Well? Don't make my dad and brothers wait,” Sansa prompted.

Fair enough. “Sansa, please.. can we talk when I get back? I promise I have a point to make. I'm just failing badly at making it right now.”

Sansa couldn't listen to anything, not to a single word he'd say, anyway. Time apart would be good. She needed to think, go over what had just transpired and perhaps how to move on from there. Surely she didn't want to lose her job if Jon went to jail, that was a fact whether she liked or not. Crawling back to Winterfell with her tail between her legs, hearing her mother gloat how she had been right all along, was hard to swallow too. Damn decisions. All after that speech about independence, Sansa Stark. Great.

“I'll be in the treehouse. It's behind the shed. Find me there when you're done.”

Jon nodded and grabbed his coat as he headed out.

All Jon wanted to do was tear his hair out. If only she knew how much I want her right here, right now. But the fishing call was a good save, he'd might have said worse things and dug a deeper hole than he was already in. He would think about what to say and how he'd say it. It was clear that this little adventure to meet the family, to convince some immigration officer and avoid going to prison was turning into something else entirely.

It was a nice but cold day out on a rocky boat that Jon mustered enough will to survive. He didn't like the water and certainly not the icy cold one at Winterfell and he longed to see Sansa again, counting down the hours.

He needed to do right by her, at least in keeping the boundaries, though they were already crossed. But that didn't matter as boundaries were boundaries. He had to do something. If he truly was a cad through and through, he'd have her four ways to Sunday, against the wall in her own room, in her parent's house where she grew up, having her scream his name for her mother and all to hear - and then leave and go back to normal once the visa got approved. But we can't go back to how things were, can we? Not after that kiss.

But he wasn't a cad, safe to say and he was proud of it. He actually cared for Sansa. Infuriating, smart-mouth and gorgeous Sansa Stark. He'd end the whole charade right now, if he had to do the right thing. A small part of him feared that it perhaps was already over.  Whatever it may be, he'd rather go to prison in Dorne than put Sansa through all of that on top of everything he had dragged her into.

I would. She deserves better than this.

“Well, I guess better luck next time eh?” Jon turned to hear Ned's voice call out to him. He was talking about the day's poor catch but to Jon, it meant something else.

If there's a next time, indeed. So help me, God.

[verreprincesse]

My Bio for the Descendant AU, eventually I’ll have it up on my blog but for now it’s gonna be on this post. I wrote soooo much and ugggggh if anything sounds off pls let me know....

cenerentola – città di vetro city of glass cinderellasburg city – farfalla paradisoville butterfly paradise villas rocky point court – corte rocciosa

charming castle – charmant château

cinderellasburg – verrelac

Charming – Leo ( lion ) Thibault

Charming Father – Andre ( manly; brave ) Thibault ( courageous people )

Charming Mother – Noemi ( beautiful, gentle ), Rainelda ( independent, self-reliant, and determined

Cinderella Father — Éduoard

Cinderella Mother — Astrid

Long before Auradon brought the kingdoms together, Verrelac was two kingdoms. One ruled by Prince Charming’s father’s family at the Charmant Château and the other ruled by his mother’s family at Corte Rocciosa. Not due to war did the two stay separate but due to a magical forest that cut them off. Stories of wild beasts and monsters kept them from travelling too deep into the forest, but his mother’s people were dying. Their soil no longer produced healthy food for them to eat and the animals they hunted had learned to stay away from the edge of the forest. In an effort to save her people CM and a small retinue of people braved the forest and pushed to CF home. She pleaded on her people’s behalf, promised a good alliance between her court and his. Her people were known for their glassmaking, down to how they could mimic rare stone without the need to mine for them or pay such high prices, in return for food.

They agreed and the two kingdoms paved a safe road from each place for travel, which also was used by the prince and princess just as often for they found each other in good company. He admired her passion for her people and her kind heart, and she loved his fair ideas and quick wit. He also loved she couldn’t dance. Every time she would end up trampling on his feet. She could make a graceful sculpture out of blazing glass but as her to be graceful on the dance floor and it was pure disaster. Over time the two fell deeper in love and convinced their parents it would be beneficial to their kingdoms if they were to marry and become one kingdom. They agreed and both kingdoms celebrated for a week. A tradition they continued to even this day. A holiday called Festival of Miracles celebrated every year with feasts and festivals. A time to remember the good that came of their union. A year later, Noemi gave birth during the festival, as did another woman.

Astrid, the wife of a very wealthy merchant had gone into labor early, two months early, with her daughter. It was a fight for both mother and child. Three days it took to bring Eleanor into the world, and she was as perfect as could be. Their little miracle. In more than one way too. Eleanor was the eldest of many sisters and was meant to marry rich but one of the times she had gone off by herself, often to just have a clear mind, she had ended up at Glass Lake. A strange phenomenon where the lake was both a solid and a liquid. If met with force, the lake defended itself by becoming solid and protecting the life within it. It was said fairies were born by the lake with its magical properties. Another story is that a queen once was able to trick the lake into giving up a piece of itself to be made into a large mirror.

No matter the stories, Astrid enjoyed the quiet solitude she gained from visiting. It was during one of those times she met Éduoard when he and his father took the newly paved road to take their wares. His father had people who could do the tedious work, but he wanted to teach Éduoard an honest living and to do that, he took his son with him. Astrid’s horse had become spooked and dashed out, nearly toppled Éduoard and his father’s cart over. No mater what she did, her horse wouldn’t rein in and her only choice was to jump. When she did, she and her horse were already by the lake and Astrid braced for the lake to harden, for the pain that would come but instead she plunged into its depths.

Éduoard and his father rushed after her, his father for the horse and Éduoard for Astrid. He was able to pull her out, despite his fear of water, and get them both safely to the bank. From then on, the two would see each other often at the lake. She had fallen for him, though she was often told it was only because he saved her. She didn’t care. The two married shortly after though their happiness didn’t last for very long.

After Eleanor was born, Astrid was very weak and grew sick with childbed fever. A week later she was gone and Éduoard was left to raise their little girl. He and his father grew their business until they were a large name in the kingdom in trade, even becoming one of the richest tradesmen. Eleanor, often called Ella, wanted for nothing. She was raised kind, and gentle, her father always keeping her mother’s memory alive. When she turned six, he remarried, and she gained a mother and two sisters. She had always wanted a sibling to get into mischief with but her new sisters were snobbish and often teased her and left her out of their merriment.

Even as she tried to make the best of it, more death struck her home when her father fell gravely ill and passed when Ella was only nine. It was then her stepmother showed her true colors. A black widow is what Ella often heard others say. Some even whispered that her stepsisters Anastasia and Drizella were fathered by two different men Lady Tremaine had killed for money. It could be true with how different the two looked. Anastasia was kinder to Ella, often bringing Ella extra blankets in the winter or giving her her old gowns. It was Drizella and her stepmother who were cruel, treating Ella like a slave and taking away her comfortable life.

The one thing she looked forward to, however, every year was the Week of Miracles. Even her stepmother couldn’t forbid her from attending, despite her trying every time, and when she was nineteen she had made herself a gown, thanks to Anastasia giving her some old fabric, and would have attended had her stepmother not ordered her daughters to ruin the gown.

Bereft, Ella was sure she’d never get to attend and ran to the forest to the lake where her parents first met. She felt close to her parents there every time she visited. She cried for her losses and for her triumphs and to just tell her parents of her life. She was kind to the wildlife there and if something magical happened, she never questioned it, nor took it for granted. It was there her fairy godmother appeared, helped her to attend the festivities every day of that week, no matter how many times her stepfamily would sabotage it. Everyday in a gown more beautiful than the first.

It was at the festival she fell in love. She didn’t believe she could be given more but when she met Henri her world flipped. He was handsome but she learned he was more than just a face. He cared for his people, he worried about their struggles and he wanted to make things better like his parents had. Every day she met with him and fell deeper in love with him but knew her stepmother would never allow her to rise above her daughters and so she always made sure to leave without him seeing so she’d not be followed home. On the last day, however, he laid tar on the steps of the palace where her shoe caught. Either she stayed where she was and be found out or she would have to run barefoot home. The fear of her stepmother finding out had her running instead. She never expected that he would search her out though.

He spent days taking the slipper to all the eligible maidens and no matter what happened either the slipper was too small or too big, none fit the slipper. When he arrived to Ella’s house she was in the garden in the back finding food for dinner while her sisters tried on the slipper. To no avail, they couldn’t fit. Just as they were leaving, Henri saw Ella come out of the backyard and insisted she try the slipper even though her stepmother stood in the doorway, threatening her life if she so tried. Promising her safety, he encouraged her and easily, the slipper fit as if it had been made only for her. True to his word he kept her safe from her stepmother and they were wed, on a condition he helped her stepsisters find good marriages. She still wanted them to live well.

For some years they lived well, and she was able to form somewhat of a relationship with Drizella, her relationship with Anastasia blossomed especially after she fell for a baker. It was short-lived however, as many things in her life seemed to be as when Belle and Adam formed Auradon and sent the villains away, he sent her sisters and stepmother as well despite how many times Ella tried to say her sisters had changed. They were villains though; they had tormented her, and it meant they could no longer share in Auradon’s wealth. Drizella was pregnant when she was sent away, meaning Ella would never get to meet her niece or nephew when they were born.

Ella often stayed away from Auradon if she can as she was quite upset with Belle and Adam for what they did, not seeing that her sisters had changed, until her own son was born. She knew it meant she would have to send him to Auradon Prep when he came of age and she would have to attend the many invitations. Otherwise she stayed in her kingdom and helps her husband rule fairly and justly.

[ramblingpillager-blog]

Fragged Empire: Holding onto the dark

It would be cliche to say that one moment changed everything in her life, but when the cliche is true you have to wear it, even if it’s tired and worn. 

BlazeTM couldn’t have told you what exactly had transpired during the few confused moments of shouting and grabbing and hauling and running that happened around her after the Admiral’s bullet exposed into her left eye socket and past the rest of her head. A forgivable oversight given the pain and ringing in her ears and fireworks inside her brain.

The loaner gunship they’d hauled up to the northern wastes of Centauri Prime for this goddamned mission came with standard vid surveillance installed, and Mo had kept the cameras running during the gunfight.  Later, once things were a little calmer, the crew had crowded around and watched the silent footage in equal silence. Billye backed it up and watched it twice more, not for his own heroics - which were beautiful in their simian fluidity - but because first, he wanted to confirm the actual timeline of events, and second, because he wanted to confirm with his own eyes the actions of a man he would have otherwise considered someone to admire. 

Griffen and the other Kaltoran who had only recently found herself among their crew watched once. Once was enough. They’d seen enough fighting not to need confirmation of the details they’d lived through. 

And briefly, the details were this: a routine drop job had turned into a sidewars shit-blizzard, and the person who’d born the brunt of the bad luck of it was normally the one who could talk or buy her way past Lady Fortune’s whims. 

It’s not like they were a particularly cozy team, but one thing could be said for anyone who decided to crew up under Blaze’s headship: the money was good, the tech was great, and the outcomes assured. But the dice rolls of the Universe always evened themselves out. Good luck never lasted forever. You just didn’t expect all the dice rolls to go ass over heels on your at one time. 

The medbay at the Castra field hospital was well-staffed and well-stocked. CORP entities liked to hire Legion to be their muscle, so plenty of credits poured into the facility to ensure everyone was feeling like working whenever they were needed. Thus it was that Dr. Barin, a CORP man with a solid medical school history and more than a few years of emergency care on his resume, found himself in charge of one of the worst battle wounds he’d seen in a long time. 

“Rebecca....” The doctor waited while BlazeTM swam slowly toward consciousness. He’d put her into a coma while they assessed the damage and got the slug out of her shoulder. Plus, he wasn’t entirely sure she’d respond to her birth name. “Rebecca, you’re in a hospital. My name is Dr. Frank Barin. Please lie still, there’s no point in trying to move around. We’ve got you sedated, but you should be able to think clearly for the next few minutes.” A hiss of a stim let BlazeTM know that her consciousness was at the mercy of a standard combat medicine drug that would wear off as soon as her pain threshold got too high. 

She struggled to form words around the thick slab of her tongue which didn’t seem to get the message that the upper was giving to the rest of her mind. The doctor motioned for an orderly to give her some water, and waited for her to find her bearings. 

“So I guess that shot to the face was as bad as it felt? ... Oh, and don’t call me Rebecca. I haven’t heard that name in 15 years and I don’t intend to start using it now.  BlazeTM is the only name that matters.” 

“Fine. BlazeTM, you suffered two significant injuries. The first was a bullet to your shoulder, which amazingly did less tissue damage than it should have. Your body armor was good tech. It held together, for the most part. But you took a critical shot to the face. The assault round entered your skull on from your left side, shattered your left eye and socket, broke your nose, exited in front of your right eye, and then exploded. Just like the delay-shells are supposed to do, which is why any sensible planet should ban them. 

BlazeTM was still. Very still. She heard blood in the veins next to hear ears pound like rivers. She started counting backwards from twenty, forcing herself to match her breathing to the slow pace of her counting. Dr. Barin waited till she exhaled at “one.” 

“BlazeTM, you should know a couple things. First, I’ve watched the vid from your ship’s cams, and you owe your life to the Legion who picked you up and hauled you aboard your ship. I think you should know that. Second, you are victim to perhaps the worst luck I’ve ever seen in a battle wound. You turned your head at the last second, perhaps because someone shouted, and that sent the projectile through your left eye and past your right. I couldn’t save your left eye - the tissue was shredded and burning. In fact, you suffered a severe burn to that side of your face, but we have excellent skin graft tech installed here, and the scar will be minimal after you heal. 

“Nevertheless, I’m afraid your natural sight is gone in that eye, at least for now. I believe it may be a good candidate for an advanced synthetic implant, if you’re willing to go cyber. Your crew tells me you have no cyber implants that they know of, and your medical records and scans confirmed this. So you might be inclined to reject this offer, but I’d like you to hear me out first. You can’t use a chop shop for this - your left optic nerve was too badly damaged to accept any of the basic implants. But at a mainframe hospital on Alabaster -- they’re doing some amazing work with augmented reality and sight. I think one of the deeper brain implants would give you a ‘sense of sight’ on that side.”

He paused to see if BlazeTM had anything to ay. She didn’t. She’d always been one to take her bad news straight. Besides, the doctor’s account had triggered her memory. Those weren’t nightmares she’d slept through, she realized. It was reality. The ringing in her ears, the smell of burnt flesh, the hammer of pain that had throbbed through her skull just before everything went black and she couldn’t remember any more. 

“All right. That was the worst news. Moving to your right eye, you have a decision to make. It is because of this that I wanted to wake you. I realize this wasn’t the conversation you’d hoped to have, but we need to act fast if there’s something we should do. 

“I am optimistic that you could walk out of here in a month with cyber-sight, if you are willing to choose it. I’m also duty-bound to tell you that there could be an option for regrowing your right eye via Nephilim biotech process. However, the nearest Nephilim installation is a full weeks’ flight from here, even on the fastest ship, and almost no one is willing to turn down the chance to cyber sight now to become one of those ... experiments.”  BlazeTM felt the projection of the taste of the word in Dr. Barin’s mouth. To him, the idea was foul, bitter.

But the mention of the Nephilim jolted her toward something.... important.... that was near the edge of the back of her brain...  She fought the drugs to access all of her thoughts. 

Lying, on the snow, cold. Dark. Blood sticky on my face. Skin on fire. Resignation. Whole job had gone shit sideways and the dump fell on me. Ironic but justified, maybe, in some twisted view of the world. 

Wait. That voice inside her head. Clear, distinct, and deep. That wasn’t her. A buzzing in her ears. Telepathy. What? ‘Child, you are dying. I warned you this would happen - that you would come to a hard place, and I would give you a hard choice. That time has come. No one will fault you if you give up and die. But I will see you as the coward you are. Or you can accept my offer of life, but the price will be dear. You will repay me with interest such that even your Corp ancestors would blush.’

‘So, Rebecca Blazer, what shall it be?’ She felt the hand before her mind saw it, unnaturally formed but reaching toward her. It took her only a moment to decide that she’d live, if only to see Maximilian grovel at her feet before she ground her boot in his face. 

Dr Barin had moved beside her, checking bandages and wraps. “BlazeTM, I just need you to give me the okay and I’ll schedule you for implant surgery in two days. It’ll take some work to adapt to the cybernetic sight, but you’ll learn fast. Some people even find that --”

“No.” She managed to catch his arm and held it with as firm a grip she could muster. “No, doctor, I do not want implants. I want to go to the Nephilim.”

“Look, BlazeTM, I realize you’re not a fan of cyber, but this is foolish. There’s zero guarantee that the Nephilim process will work. And what’s more, this is a crossroads. If you opt for the biotech, I will have to lay in skin grafts over your eye sockets to leave them something to work with. There’s a strong chance your optic nerves will simply whither in transit. Once they’re gone, the only implants you could use will leave you nearly sightless, locked into a flow of low-grade optical data. You cannot be serious.  

“Not to mention, if you cannot reach the Nephilim installation in time, the skin grafts will heal and you’ll be left... well.... without anything where your eyes used to be. And most species don’t handle that very well.” 

“I have my reasons,” BlazeTM answered. Her voice was flat, emotionless. Resolute.

“I have to insist on a second opinion. Perhaps you should consult with your crew. They know you, know your history, maybe understand why you are unwilling to take the obvious step.” 

“No. Tell them I have good reason for my decision. Tell Billye... tell him I saw The Prophet. Tell him exactly that. He’ll understand.  And tell them to get ready to jump to hyperspace as soon as you can get me off this godforsaken hellhole excuse for a shit-ass mortherfucking planet. Make sure you use each of those words in exactly that order.”