#ALSO. i finally remembered to draw her with a few graying strands i think thats cool

[automatonknight]

id: a digital fullbody drawing of walenty-a teen with pale skin, long, black hair, short, twisted horns and a long, thin tail. it’s shown facing the viewer and smiling, looking off to the left. kit is wearing glasses, a yellow raincoat with a very light beige sweater underneath, a turquoise nerckerchief, shorts, a black hoodie tied around kits waist and dark blue sandals with red and white socks. kit has one of kits hands in kits pocket while kit is leaning on a fishing rod with the other. the background is black and there is a circle behind walenty that’s colored in to look like waves, which seem to be spilling out of the shape and down the frame, making it look like kit is standing in the water. end id 

walenty goes by it/she/he and neopronouns

[sailorshadzter]

soon you’ll get better.

part 2 to my taylor swift lover album inspired jonsa series.  (<--- thats really a mouthful lol) 

im really excited to get further into the album, but recently, it was one of my best friend’s mom’s birthdays, though she passed away about nine years ago now. she was like a second mother to me & i miss her a lot. there were so many days i spent with her while she was sick & a lot of time i spent with her daughters. her younger two girls are like my little sisters. 

anyways, i originally wasnt even going to INCLUDE this song in the series, but thinking about this “second mom” of mine inspired me to write this instead. 

also, next time, i’m not certain ill follow this same set up. 

it might be a time skip, it might be an “inspired by” rather than using the lyrics themselves. who knows! we’ll see what happens. 

hope you guys enjoy. :) 

It's been several long, grueling weeks without seeing her.

Jon frequents Seasalt Tavern, even on trivia night, if only to catch a glimpse of that shiny red hair. But each night, he's let down. Even now, he hears her song in his brain. The echo of her words, soft and true, sing him to sleep when he closes his eyes each night. She haunts him, in a way no woman has ever done before.

Lunch break. It comes every day, a glorious hour where Jon steps away from his desk if only to stretch his legs. He joined the Westeros Special Forces unit only six months ago, a transfer in from the Northern faction, deciding to head South for a change of scenery post break up. Ygritte had been... Well, a spitfire, to say the least. And hard to forget. Their relationship had been as fiery as her temper and her hair. Yeah, he has a type, so sue him. While he didn't miss the fights and the theatrics of the relationship, he missed being with someone. Ygritte cared about him in her own, weird sort of way, and he misses the companionship she had provided him for nearly three years.

Jon sighs as he steps out into the afternoon sun, deciding the local coffee shop would suffice for lunch today. It's only a short walk up the street and Jon finds himself stepping inside within minutes, the blast of cold air refreshing. Six months in of living in the South and Jon still hasn't quite adjusted to the heat. He misses the icy cold air of the North- somehow, it felt cleaner up there. That ache in your lungs you felt when you took in the first breath of cold, morning air... He misses that almost as much as he misses the fiery warmth of a woman in his bed.

The girl behind the counter smiles and offers a wave- she's a University student, Jon has learned in his time coming here, eager to graduate the following spring and step into a new world as a nurse. "Hey Jon," she greets as he approaches, "the usual?" It's Jon's turn to grin as he nods and turns to head towards his usual table, but is surprised to find it already occupied.

And just like that, there she is.

She's surrounded by notebooks and a textbook or two, though she seems focused on a single notebook. Her red hair is twisted back into braids and tucked up with pins, though a few strands have fallen free to frame her face. Jon sucks in a breath as he watches her for only a moment more, for she looks up then and notices him staring. At once, she sits up straighter, squinting her eyes as recognition spreads across her face. "Hey," she says after a moment, folding her arms over the tabletop as she leans forward. "Jon, right?" She says, though she's not forgotten his name. She's recited it over and over and over again since the night they met. "Nice suit." Her eyes trail him up and down and Jon feels warmth spread to his cheeks, her lip gloss lips curving with a smile. If she notices the gun strapped to his hip, she doesn't mention it.

"Call it a drawback to the job," Jon jokes a moment later when he finally finds his voice again, the sweet sound of her laughter ringing in his ears. His heart soars. "I haven't seen you, at the bar I mean." He says and at once, he regrets it. She sits up straighter, those ocean blue eyes widening ever so slightly as she regards him closely. "I-I mean, they're talking about you. About your song, your voice." Smooth, he thinks as he can only hope a hole opens up on the floor and swallows him up. Just then, the barista appears with his steaming drink, to which he grins and gives his thanks before the girl is gone, leaving him there to probably continue to embarrass himself. But to his surprise, she does not send him away with a scowl or cruel words, rather her face softens and she gestures for him to sit.

"If you want," she says, an offering, her head tilted to the side, the stray strand of hair falling just across her forehead. He wishes he could push it  back, he wishes he could feel it between his fingers. It takes him only a moment to take the seat across from her, his to-go cup warm despite the cardboard slip around it's middle. "I've been busy," she says by way of explanation, a fleeting look of sadness crossing her features as she looks back at him. For some reason, despite not knowing him, Sansa feels as if she can trust him. His dark, solemn eyes give her a sense of hope she's not felt in a long time. "Besides, I couldn't come back without another song."

"So there's another one?" He asks, taking the first sip of his coffee. It's a simple order, a caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso, one which he never deviates from. "Open mic night is next week, isn't it?" She grins and nods, telling him she heard from her friend Margaery about the next date and that she would be there.

"Margaery has been trying to drag me out for weeks now, I haven't-" she stops, realizing she's about to dump something on him that's probably beyond a normal talking point for a first real conversation. As if Jon senses her uncertainty, he offers her a smile and encourages her to go on. "It's my mother..." Sansa shifts in her chair, absently swirling the last swallow of coffee in her mug as she looks anywhere but Jon's face. "She's sick and I... Between taking care of her and my little brothers and sister..." She looks up and it's written all over Jon's face- sympathy, yet understanding. There is no judgment, there is nothing but warmth. Somehow, it's as if she's known him all her life, not a single conversation in a dark bar. "Anyways, Margaery says it's good if I get out sometimes, you know? So I let her drag me out every now and again." She smiles as she thinks of her friend, who she knows loves her dearly. Margaery was a good, no a great, friend and Sansa reminds herself to give her friend a hug.

"I'm sorry... About your mother." Jon says after a moment, knowing the pain of losing a mother, though he doesn't mention such a thing to her. The last thing he wants to do is remind her of what she certainly worries about often. "You have siblings?" He asks instead and is delighted to see the smile brighten up her face as she nods.  

"Three of them. Two brothers, Bran is thirteen and Rickon is nine. Arya is fifteen." Her little siblings are her entire world. They have always been close, the Stark children that is, especially so in the four years since Robb had died. But even as kids, even with the years between them all, they had always been close. And with her mother's illness and her father's business, it left much of raising them to her. She could not remember a time where she was not with the little ones, though now that they're older and mostly taking care of themselves, she wishes she could go back. It hadn't always been easy, but she loved every moment spent with those little siblings of hers. "What about you?"

Jon smiles when he shakes his head. "I don't have much family at all, well aside for a distant cousin who lives in Essos." He had never known his father and his mother had died when he was just a kid, leaving him to be raised in foster homes until he came of age. "It's just me and Ghost, honestly."

"Ghost?" She asks and Jon can't stop from reaching for his cell phone, pulling up the most recent photo of the big, white dog he means. "A wolf dog?!" She blurts without warning, excitedly reaching for her own phone, which lay beside the notebook she'd been writing in. She taps the screen and shows him the background photo- a family photo of five kids with varying shades of hair, each proudly standing with shaggy pups that were as colorful as them. She draws the phone back towards her and when she hands it back, there's a photo instead of a beautiful gray wolf like dog, who's eyes are more gold than yellow. "That's Lady."

"You all have them?" Jon is surprised- he's never met another person with a wolf dog like Ghost, let alone a family of them.

"My father... He found an entire litter when we were kids," she explains, the memory burned into her brain as if it had happened only yesterday. "My family's sigil is a direwolf, so my father said he couldn't just turn them away. He said they came to us for a reason." For a litter of pups to be born, five pups for the five Stark children, it had surely been a sign from the Old Gods, and so despite her mother's wishes, all the puppies came home to the children. The way he's leaning over the table, he can see the soft curves of her handwriting on the paper- small and neat, her handwriting fits her perfectly. She must notice him looking for she grins and slides the paper towards him. "Next week's song," she says, tapping the top where she's written the apparent name across the top. "I think it's finished... I hope it's finished."

Jon reads only the first few lines before he pushes it back towards her. "I want to hear it when it is," he says and drains the last sip of his drink. "Listen, I have to head back to the office now but I uh... I'll see you next week." He rises up to his feet, the scrape of the chair against the floor the only noise in the room for a single moment. Sansa smiles and yet again, Jon is rendered breathless by her. If only this moment could last forever.

"Yeah, next week," she replies, barely breathing herself.

When Jon approaches the desk to pay for his drink, he tells the barista he wants to pay for her drink too. Though she's surprised, the young woman does as he's bid and waves to him as he takes the receipt and his change and heads for the door. Just as he goes to toss it into the waste bin, he peaks at the receipt and to his surprise, sees that she must have ordered the very same drink as him.

[ x x x ]

The bar is quiet as Sansa climbs up to the stage again.

Again, accompanied only by her guitar, she gazes out into the crowd of people, smiling down at her brunette friend before she speaks into the microphone. "I had an entirely different song planned for this night a few weeks ago, but my mother... She's sick and she's relapsed so  I wrote this for her." In the long nights beside the hospital bed, the beeping of the machines her only melody, she had penned these lyrics. She had scribbled these lines onto napkins and the back of her hand. She had written this song to remind herself that in the end, her mother would step out of the hospital and home would become home again. Taking a deep breath, she strums the guitar and finds the right note.

And then she sings.

"The buttons of my coat were tangled in my hair In doctor's-office-lighting, I didn't tell you I was scared That was the first time we were there."

Jon sits at the bar again.

It's his usual spot, with his usual drink in hand. He had saw her come in- red hair in curls and her impossibly long legs wrapped in denim- but hadn't got a chance to talk to her. Her friend, Margaery he thinks it is, sits where she sat the first time, but this time the guy she had been crushing on sits beside her, arm around her waist.

The song Sansa sings... He recalls reading those first few lines in the coffee shop but hearing her silky voice singing them makes all the difference. She's stronger this time- less nervous than she must have been the first time around and Jon is surprised when from across the room, their eyes meet.

And he swears his heart must stop.

"Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better Ooh-ah, you'll get better soon 'Cause you have to."

Those words are the soft plea of a daughter to her sick mother, the simple view that there was no other option than to recover. Jon glances around the room and can see there are at least five others in that room who know the feelings she's singing about.

Yet again, Sansa's song is reaching people.

"I know delusion when I see it in the mirror You like the nicer nurses, you make the best of a bad deal I just pretend it isn't real I'll paint the kitchen neon, I'll brighten up the sky I know I'll never get it, there's not a day that I won't try."

One of the women Jon had noticed earlier is openly crying at her table now and he recognizes her as the one who had lost her mother only a month before. Jon recalls that pain himself, despite the years that it's been since he lost his own mother. He can still recall the sweet scent of her perfume, but he's forgotten what her voice sounded like or how warm her arms had been whenever she hugged him. It's been many years since he lost his mother, but the pain of it never goes away. Not entirely.

On the stage, Sansa too sees the woman that cries softly at her table, the man beside her wrapping his arm around her in comfort. She wishes she hadn't made her cry, she feels bad about that, in truth, but there's no stopping now.

"And I hate to make this all about me But who am I supposed to talk to? What am I supposed to do If there's no you? This won't go back to normal, if it ever was It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because 'Cause I have to."

As she breaks into the final chords, the final repeat of soon you'll get better, she looks out into the faces around her, wondering just how many of them out there got the message. How many others besides that single woman understood the pain of watching someone they loved go through an illness? Probably too many, she realizes.

When her hand finally falls from the guitar and silence descends, she lets out the breath she's been holding and her heart skips a beat when the first claps begin. And then it's every person in the bar that's clapping, some even cheering as she smiles for them and descends down to join Margaery at the table.

Jon watches as she escapes from her friend and instead crosses the room to approach the other crying woman. They embrace and when Sansa pulls back, the woman holds her at arm's length as they talk. When they finish their conversation, Sansa does not return to Margaery's table but to his shock, she comes towards the bar to stand before him where he sits on his usual stool. "Buy me a drink?" She asks with a grin and for a moment, Jon is too stunned to say anything.  But then he nods and she slides onto the stool beside him, so close that again he catches the scent of her sweet perfume.

They talk for what could be several hours, Jon seems to have lost track of the time as he sits there with her. It isn't until Margaery approaches her, a touch to her shoulder, a quick but silent it's time to go home. "I have to go," she says, brushing a curl behind an ear, revealing the three little studs she wears in her lobes. "Maybe we don't have to wait until the next mic night to see each other," she grins as she slides a piece of paper towards him as she hops of the stool, a little wobbly after her three drinks. Before Jon can speak, she's rushing after Margaery who waits at the door for her, her guy already out in the lot to fetch the car.

Jon lifts up the piece of paper and he finds his heart is racing as he realizes it's her phone number written there. Pre written, he realizes, meaning she had always intended on giving it to him. He feels warm and it's not just because of the four drinks he's consumed sitting there with Sansa. Okay... That might be partly to blame, but mostly he's just beyond happy. He reaches for his phone and adds her into his contacts list, clicking the new message icon, though he hesitates for a moment. Was it weird if he texted her so quickly? No, he decides, she gave him her number, which meant she wanted him to text her.

And so he taps the message space and begins to type.

Sansa is climbing into the backseat of the car when her phone beeps.

She fishes it out of her purse and her heart skips a beat when she sees it is a number not yet saved to her contacts. "He texted you? Already?" Margaery is excited in the front seat, the one who had encouraged Sansa to talk to him that night, the one to write down her phone number for Sansa to give to him. "I told you," she mumbled as she turned back around, smiling to herself as she thinks of the way the dark haired, brooding sort of man had been staring at her friend both last time and tonight. After the last relationship Sansa had been in, she deserved someone who looked at her like this Jon looked at her.

On Sunday's I take Ghost to the dog park. Maybe Lady would like to join him?

Sansa smiles and types a quick reply.

Just as he's sliding off the stool that his phone lights up on the bar. Jon can't help but to chuckle when he sees her response.

Lady would love that, but I hope I'm invited. 👀

When she reads his response, she's grinning, a strange warmth filling her up, threatening to spill over.  Sorry, I forget how to act when I think about cute dogs owned by cute girls. Another text comes before she can reply to the first.  I'll see you and Lady both there, say noon?

She nods, though he can't see, and hits send on her own message.

Jon climbs into his car and hears the beep of her reply.  We'll see you there. :)

He drives himself home and it isn't until he's settled into his apartment that he realizes his phone went off without him noticing. Unlocking the screen, he's surprised to see it's a picture message, rather than just a normal text. This is how she looks at me when I tell her we have plans tomorrow. The picture is of Lady asleep on the couch, or at least pretending to be, as she has one yellow eye open looking up at Sansa who must be leaning over her to snap the picture. We're going to bed, see you tomorrow. I promise she's as excited as I am. Her next text comes a moment later and Jon grins down at Ghost, reciting the message aloud to the dog. "She's excited..." He murmurs as he sinks back into the couch, not fully prepared to head to bed.

In her bedroom, stripped down to nothing but a t-shirt, Sansa is climbing into bed when her phone vibrates on her bedside table. Reaching for it, she blinks against the brightness of her screen so she can read Jon's last message. Ghost on the other hand... A pause and then the photo comes, making her smile as she clicks it to enlarge it. It's of the great big white wolf, grinning like only a dog can, clearly excited by something Jon is doing or saying. Sleep tight, girls, comes last and as Sansa curls up beneath her blankets, she smiles to herself, not yet daring to believe that this is entirely real. Jon seems almost too good to be true. Though, she supposes there's only one way to figure it out. She hasn't dated in well over a year... Not since Joffrey... But something tells her Jon is the farthest type from Joffrey that could ever possibly be.

As she closes her eyes, she thinks of him, of those deep set brown eyes, and falls asleep.

[johnwickjuice]

My savior the Reaper. A John Wick X Reader story

Chapter 9

Warnings: Death, blood, and violence ahead.

I stood there in silence and quivered. It was all I could do and I was sick of it. ‘What made me so valuable anyway? Was it because I was born a woman? What if I had been born male? Would I still be in the same position I am now?’ Thoughts swirled through my head at alarming speeds and I could feel my breathing becoming quicker.

In all honesty I didn't want them to take the silk bag off my head. I didn't want to see what this being had in store for me. The two men released their grip on my shoulders, and I heard them take a couple of steps back.

The bag was yanked from the top of my head, ripping a few strands of hair along with it and revealed the room around me. I stared at the ground, the floor was marble and from what I could tell in my peripheral vision, we were surrounded by lots of stained glass windows with shelves upon shelves of books. No doubt a luxurious study. Trying not to draw attention to myself I kept my eyes low and he took a step towards me.

"Your father hated you, no?"

His thick Russian accent was challenging to understand but I understood enough to know he was trying to get a rise out of me. 

"Otherwise he would not have promised me your life. He cared for you not and that is why you are here." He scoffed.

His words were stinging me now and I wanted to punch him. I hadn't realized, but my fists were starting to ball.

"Little girl you are of importance to me due to the fact that nothing is more valuable than human life, especially in my line of work.”

I did not want to know what he meant by that. Fear overtook me and I looked up at him. He was standing tall at least six foot three. He had to have been in his mid fifties, his hair was graying and hairline was receding.

I was spacing out, trying to devise a way to somehow use my phone when a hard smack landed across my face.

"Are you going to say something to your new master or stand there and gawk, girl?"

I really don't want to talk, I don't want to speak to him much less be here any longer. All I could think of now besides getting help was John. Tears started to stream down my face once again.

Finally to appease him and not to get struck again I asked "What should I call you by...sir?"

A grin grew across his face as he answered.

"You may call me-"

Without warning, the sound of gunfire echoed and riddled the room, shattering the stained glass and murdering the men that stood behind me.  I dropped flat to the floor covering my head. My whole body convulsing in shakes now.

It seemed to have been over in an instant, glass still dropping from the windows as silence filled the room. I uncovered my head to army crawl out of the room as quick as possible but felt the tall man grab hold of my ankle and slide me over to him. His hand wrapped around my neck squeezing it tightly as he withdrew a gun from his back pocket and pointed it straight at my temple.

“You're not going anywhere!” He growled right into my ear. “Do you hear me!? She’s not going anywhere!” He screamed through the now wide open windows into the forest.

He turned me and rushed us out of the room strangling and dragging me more so then letting me walk into the next room using my body for cover. The room we entered in next was what looked like a ballroom. A glorious chandelier hung from above and a giant staircase that curved upwards to the second floor that had golden railings would be a sight to behold if not for the circumstances.

As we made our way towards the steps. The doors across the room flung open revealing a very pissed off John with a pistol in hand and aimed right at us. Happiness and terror both overwhelmed me as I was so glad he was alive, but he was covered head to toe with mysterious cuts, bruises blood stains.

They began to argue in russian and I observed silently as I didn't know which breath would be my last, or Johns.

The man switched from holding my throat to my jaw and pointed my face directly at John as he spoke english directly into my ear now. Still gasping and struggling he spoke.

"Tell her John. Tell her the truth and see how loyal a bitch really is."

I looked deeply into Johns dark eyes and blinked confusingly. 

"John? W-Whats he talking about?" I said lowly.

John stared at us, breathing heavily with his mouth slightly open and blinked a couple of time, softening his gaze.

“Tell her John, Tell her what her fathers last moments were like when you took his life from him!” He said louder so my heavy breathing wouldn't mask his voice.

The world seemed to fall silent as all I could hear was my own heartbeat now. ‘Its not true. Its impossible. There’s no way in hell John would do that to me. No way.’

“Liar!” I screamed as I struggled against his grasp.

“Tell her John!”

I was struggling my hardest to get away from his hold but he is so much stronger then me, my efforts seemed futile. But I don’t care, I don’t care if I get shot I just cant take this anymore.

John yelled, louder then ever in russian once again and it caught me off guard for a second but I used that split second to my advantage. I was able slip his thumb into my mouth and I bit down as hard as I could.

He flung me hard against the marble floor. Gun shots went off simultaneously and the mans body fell beside me, bleeding profusely from his forehead.

I stared for a moment as I attempted to catch my breath.  I scrambled away from him, his cold lifeless eyes staring back into mine, his blood following me. Once I felt I was safe against a wall I buried my hands into my face to keep from looking. No energy was left in me. I could feel the adrenaline crashing now.

“Its alright y/n, everything is going to be okay now.” John spoke softly as I heard him walk from towards where the man was, “You’re in shock but it will pass.”

I felt him drape his blazer around me. His body heat from it encased me as his scent filled my nostrils calmed more so. My heart was slowing and I could finally think of full forming sentences again.

“Is it true?” My voice was hoarse.

“Y/n, listen to me.” He placed his hand over my upper arm and gripped it alarmingly tight. 

He probably doesn’t want me to run away from his words but I wanted to cut him off right then and there, wanted to scream and shout obscenities right into his face while punching and kicking him as hard as I could but my exhaustion was weighing me down like an anchor, also, he had a sincere tone in his voice that kept my attention just slightly peaked.

He sat down next to me, grunting slightly, as if he were hiding something painful.

“Remember at dinner?”

Yeah right, the way he looked that night, and the drinks that I had, had occupied my mind so much that all I was fixated on was how to go about jumping his bones when we got back to the hotel room.

“Slightly.” My voice cracked.

“We talked about rules and codes a little bit, well, this was one of them.”

I pulled my hands from my face and hugged my legs to my chest. I didn’t understand still but I felt like passing out if I said another word. John had taken the mans own blazer and placed it over his own lifeless body.

“He had a marker on me, meaning, if I didn’t follow one singular order of his, we both wouldn’t be sitting here today. Your father hired me to protect you after the marker was placed on me but even if he had hired me beforehand, everything would have played out the same. The rules abiding markers can not be broken and if i had broken that rule, I would be dead and you would be, god knows where.”

“Right!? Just like how I would be safe at the fucking hotel right!? That rule!?”

Him bringing my father up gave me a sudden energy boost and I jumped to my feet and slipped surprisingly easily out of his grasp.

“John if your work here is done now you can get the fuck out, just go! Just leave me here and go murder more innocent families away from me, I can find my way outta here without you and your shitty car!” I yelled.

He winced but he arose to his feet as well. “Not if you die bleeding out here you wont.”

I shot him a confused look and blinked a couple of times realizing what he had said. I lifted my arms to check my torso. Everything seemed intact to me, But I could spot blood dripping, from somewhere.

He grabbed my arm again, clasping it tightly

“The bullet is in your arm y/n. Let me get you taken care of please! You are my top priority and it will remain as such.”

I felt myself becoming weak, and nauseous, not sure if it was out of the fact that he still cares for me me after everything thats happened or the loss of blood. His messy hair is nice to look at at least and seeing him all scrapped up from attempts to save my life was nice to think about. He must have gone through some shit before he wound up here.

‘Okay yeah, I am definitley losing too much blood.’