Metzina



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  1. Public Bookmark 4

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    Tomorrow would be another busy day, and Satin would spend it running behind Jon until his feet ached and learning the castle like it was his own. It wasn’t his own, of course. It was Jon’s and Satin was, by rights, a man of the Night’s Watch. He had taken vows before a weirwood. It shall not end until my death, he had sworn, I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come. Yet now he spent his nights lounged in the plush feather bed belonging to the Lord of Winterfell, leagues away from the post at which he had promised to live and die. Satin had been forced to take the Black. The Black or hanging, it had been, and he had chosen the Wall with little other choice. The vows were sworn at the threat of the noose, but they were sworn all the same.

    (Jon and Satin settle into a new normal in Winterfell. They slowly find their footing in their respective roles of Lord and Steward, and try to find exactly where they stand with one another after all that has happened and the ever-shifting boundary lines between them continue to blur.)

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    Language:
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    7,763
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    1/1
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    189
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    06 Jan 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 3

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    Satin was aching too, gods was he ever, but in the weeks since they left Castle Black that had become the norm. His thighs throbbed and cramped from the day’s ride. And the day before’s and the day before that’s also. A dull persistent ache had settled in his chest too, and it followed him throughout the day. Quickly, he had fallen into a new routine. Ready to march at dawn, don’t think about Jon lying dead in a pool of his own blood, mount up on his horse, travel south for hours until it was time to stop, don’t remember how cold he was under your hands as you stitched his wounds closed, dismount and try to mask the pulsing pain in his body, help set up camp, serve supper, don’t think of how the water you washed him with ran red with blood, attend Jon at war councils and meetings, run various errands, don’t think about his lips under yours cold as ice and unmoving, massage Jon's leg, then pass out beside him heavy like steel to do it all again the next day.

    (Jon and Satin begin the march to retake Winterfell and settle into a new normal. But Satin can only outrun his own emotions for so long, no matter how hard he tries to push them away and focus just on Jon)

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    28 Dec 2025

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Kuroro wants to take him, breathe him in. He wants to burrow under his skin and live at his lips, tucked away behind his teeth. He wants and wants and needs.

    Fuck. The damned nen-exorcist may have had a point.

    Kurapika’s eyes flicker towards him, then, and the dull burning in Kuroro’s gut flares. The crease between Kurapika’s eyebrows deepens, but that’s the only sign that he recognizes Kuroro at all before he turns away from him completely.

    “Be still, my heart,” Kuroro murmurs sourly to himself and yet he cannot look away.

    (In which Kuroro must endure the side-effects of his nen exorcism. Alternatively, Kuroro is forced to have feelings and absolutely cannot handle it.)

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    22 Jul 2024

  4. Public Bookmark 86

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    It's a vital skill he did know how to bring to bear whenever the situation called for it, thank you very much. No one else needed to know that it's also a coping mechanism by another name. (Running into his archenemies while on a bodyguarding job protecting royalty? Of course he can't go the usual avenue of losing his shit.)

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    588
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    22 Jul 2024

  5. Public Bookmark 81

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    Swallow that hate of yours, Rick.

     

    Rick tries, he really does.

    Language:
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    3/?
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    14 Apr 2024