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saratogaroadwrites · 5 months

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Tron: Liberation (6/15)

Tron: Liberation | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount: 106,965 characters: Tron, Beck, Mara, Zed, Paige, Pavel, Tesler, Clu 2, Dyson, Yori, Quorra, Original Siren Character relationships: Tron & Beck, Beck & Mara & Zed, Tron/Yori other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Continuation, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

The Game has changed. The Revolution has begun. With Tron healed and once more in the fight for the Grid, the war has begun. But Clu will not give up so easily, and this is a war that will be fought in the streets. But it is a war that Beck and Tron intend to win, so long as they can do one thing first:

Survive.

[AU: Fanmade Season 2]

"We’re leaving Argon. All of us.”

That set everyone off as fully as if Beck had kicked a Gridbug nest. Programs began to speak, talking and yelling over one another with volume increasing by the second. Mara whirled around to face her crew, raising her hands and her voice as she tried to get them to settle, tried to get them to listen. Zed stepped in to help her, shouting at the top of his vocals, but it only made things worse. Tron watched with a frown as Beck’s brow furrowed, before he raised one hand to his mouth. He whistled sharply, the sound piercing in the small space. Programs covered their ears, startled into staring at him, and the yelling came to a screeching halt. Taking a deep breath, Beck shook his head.

“None of you are trained,” Beck said, “And we don’t have the time to train you. Not properly.” He looked over his shoulder at Tron, who simply inclined his head and stayed where he was. Beck wasn’t wrong in the slightest. The young program turned back to his fellows. “Which means you all need to get out before Clu or Tesler’s forces catch up and find us here.”

“How hard could the training be?” A male-designate asked. Tron allowed himself to smirk behind his helmet while Beck pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. That small gesture said enough that Mara and Zed both leaned back, and the initial speaker began to look wary. Beck lowered his hand.

“Harder than you think. And I’ve been in training since Clu’s statue blew up, but this—” He gestured down his front, at the wounds the patches held shut but didn’t hide, “—Still happened. That’s with all that time behind me.” He turned to Tron. “How long do you think we have before we’re found if we stay here?”

“At best?” Tron extended a hand, “A full milli, Provided they don’t start in this district and don’t have the numbers for an optimized search. If they do or they start here…” He shook his head, lowering his hand to grip his upper arms. “Less than a quarter. That’s not even enough time to teach you all how to run.”

“We can all run,” A female-designate with black rimming her eyes grumbled at him, arms crossed over her chest.

“Not the way you need to, Ray,” Beck replied, holding the cooling blanket tight across his frame. Something distant flashed across his eyes, but it quickly disappeared as Ruby stepped forward with a frown.

"That still leaves the question of how." Ruby said, arms crossed over her chest. "Argon doesn't have a Sailor dock, does it?"

Tron shook his head. "No. Flynn was planning to build more, but..." He trailed off with a shrug. Beck looked at him again, the oddest look in his eyes, and not for the first time Tron was glad for his visor. Mara frowned.

"There's the train station, but..."

"That's probably already locked down," Beck said, looking at Mara and then over the crowd of mechanics. "Same as the highway, and the tunnels are probably full of water by now." He raked a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure what else that leaves us with."

"What about the port?" Zed said suddenly, drawing everyone's attention. He gulped. "I mean, Argon ships a lot of bike parts and tools to other cities. And they're really important, so they wouldn’t stop those right away, right?” He looked from Ruby to Beck to Mara, then back to Beck with a sheepish grimace on his face as no one spoke up. “....We could probably get out in the containers?"

"As cargo!" Beck and Mara exclaimed in unison. Beck turned to their friend with wide eyes. "Zed, you're a genius!"

Zed grinned. Beside Tron, Ruby tilted her head.

"That still leaves us with finding a way to get almost sixty programs all the way across town. The Harbor has likely been closed by now.”

“Not for automatic shipments,” Mara shook her head, “Those need to stay on schedule, and only the big groups would know about them.” She raised a hand to her forehead, fingers picking at the edge of the rough patch. “But without the manifest from the Garage, I don’t know which one I could get us into.”

“Alpha-81652-F,” A male designate piped up suddenly from the middle of the crowd. Everyone turned to look at him, and he shrunk in on himself for a moment before continuing, “I-it’ll be heading to Ferrum in an eighth of a milli.”

Tron hissed quietly to himself, and Beck’s eyes went wide. That wasn’t much time…Mara frowned.

“Link,” She said, “how do you know all that?”

Link shrugged. “Able reassigned me to shipping and receiving the last time he…” His gaze dropped to the ground. “…The last time I was on shift with him. You didn’t take me off of it, and—” He looked up at Mara, “It’s full of bike parts and tools. They won’t check it.”

“How sure of that are you,” Another male-designate asked, unnerved. Link turned to answer, but Beck shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter—that’s the best plan I heard all milli. Now we just need to get you there.”

“Yeah,” Zed sighed, “With a whole army between us and the harbor.” He scoffed. “Some run this’ll be.”

Beck frowned. He turned, looking at the window. His eyes narrowed, and he turned to Tron.

“…How many soldiers would be reassigned to chase if they caught sight of Tron?”

Tron frowned. “At least a couple hundred of them. Why—” He didn’t need to finish. As Ruby seemed to realize what Beck was planning, drawing in a hissed breath, Tron shook his head. “No.”

“But—”

“No.” He stepped forward. “You can barely stand, forget fight. If you go out there, you’re not coming back.” His voice wavered, just for a nano. Beck’s eyes widened, before he looked away. Tron took a steadying breath, forcing himself to swallow the words he wanted to say once more. This wasn’t the time or the place for them.

“Under normal circumstances,” He said instead, “It would be a good plan.” Too good. It would be one of his plans. Somehow the thought nearly froze his core. “But with the number of guards running out there, distraction won’t work, even if it was you or me out there. They’d just reassign another squad to keep up the search. It would be pointless.”

Mara spread her hands. “We have to do something, right?” When he turned on her, she swallowed hard. “I don’t like the idea any more than you do, obviously, but we can’t stay here. We’re all derezzed if we do.”

“Worse,” Beck and Tron replied in unison, looking at one another before Tron shook his head. Users, he didn’t like this idea. But she was right: something needed to be done. Just keeping Beck and himself out of Clu’s grasp would take a User given miracle. Keeping an additional fifty-eight programs from capture or deresolution? Not with the way things were. He looked up as Ruby turned to him.

“…What about two Trons?” She said quietly. When Beck tilted his head, she raised a brow and smiled. “If you both go out there, they won’t know where to go. We’ll be able to move faster, and the confusion may keep them off of you.”

“A pincer attack.” Tron frowned to himself. It was a valid tactic, but it still involved Beck going out there in his wounded state. He gripped his arms tightly as Ruby nodded, then looked out over the crew. Nearly sixty strong and entirely untrained, they were more of a liability than an asset, both to the Revolution and to Beck. He looked at his young friend, meeting oddly steady eyes, and forced himself to take a deep breath. There was no other option, then. “Alright,” He told Ruby, pinning her with a look through his visor, “but I want you all gone the nano we leave. We can buy you a few micros, but not much more.” He turned away, “Beck. With me.”

Beck huffed out what sounded like a laugh, but Tron didn’t turn around. The crowd parted around him, mechanics pressing shoulder to shoulder to allow both Beck and Tron passage through to the doorway. As it opened, Tron heard a male-designate pipe up behind them.

“Wait a nano,” He said, voice high with sudden realization, “If Beck’s the Renegade, then who’s that with him?”

The door whooshed shut behind Beck, cutting off his amused laugh as Tron smiled to himself, just a little. Then his smile dropped and he turned to Beck, already reaching for the baton that Tron had left for him in their borrowed apartment.

“Beck,” He said firmly in a quiet voice, “You’re still hurt.” Beck looked up, one brow quirked upwards as if to say tell me something I don’t know. Tron continued anyway, “You can’t fight like you’re used to. If they catch you again,” Tron’s voice dropped, “You know they’re not just going to let you walk away a second time.”

Beck looked down at the road. “I know.” He rubbed his wrists, the raw code shimmering into view. His patches caught in the early-cycle light as he looked back up at Tron, that same steadiness to his gaze as before. “But this is the only option we have. You can’t do this alone.” He frowned, then reached back for his disk. Tron watched as the young program flipped it over, white on black blurring into gray as the smooth motion revealed a part of Tron’s old disk. He said it belonged to Beck now, that the name of Tron was a part of Beck’s legacy as much as it was of Tron himself, but oh…oh, how he wanted to rip it away now, to shove Beck back with his fellows and do this alone.

To protect him, Tron realized. Only, Beck didn’t need protecting. Not like that. Not anymore. Tron watched with his frown hidden behind his visor as the too familiar pattern he’d spent so many cycles with rezzed across Beck’s frame. The patches faded from obvious sight, but still gleamed if they caught the light at the right angle. Up close, the difference would be obvious, but by then it wouldn’t be important.

If they got that close, Beck was good as derezzed. Tron shook his head.

“Stay out of range,” He said finally, watching as Beck flipped his baton once more. “I may not be there to back you up this time.”

Helmet still folded into the suit, Beck just smiled. He reached up, putting a hand to Tron’s shoulder and transmitting [calm] down his circuits.

“Don’t worry. Trained by the best, remember?” Beck’s smile turned into an almost grin, though it didn’t reach his eyes as he stepped back, tapping the emblem on his chest. “Maybe it’ll be me rescuing you this time.”

And then he was gone, rezzing his bike with a dull thud and racing off into the streets of Argon. Tron sighed quietly to himself.

“…Wouldn’t that be something.”

He took a steadying breath. Then, turning on his heel, he cracked his baton. The single-seater lightjet rezzed in beneath him, and he shot off into the skies above.

—

If there was one thing Mara had to give Beck and his friend credit for, it was that they knew how to make a show. Argon was in utter chaos. Mara turned to look over her shoulder, watching as a fuel tower burst into bright blue energy flames as a blue lined lightjet flew past it, a dozen red-lines in hot pursuit. Behind her, Dash and Copper were working together with Zed to attach a pull-cord to the inside of the cargo container’s door so they could pull it shut from the inside.

It would be a tight squeeze for fifty-eight mechanics. Container Alpha-81652-F was large, but it had been packed full. Bartik and Hopper were hard at work inside with some of the other mechanics, shifting crates and trays around so there would be room for everyone to at least sit down, but they’d be squeezed in tighter than Sentries in a Recognizer. They’d have to go into a makeshift sleep mode for the journey, too.

Mara wasn’t looking forward to that. Another loud boom drew her attention away, the distant rumble of tank-fire on ground level making everyone look back towards the city. Beside her, Ray snorted softly.

“He really does know how to get everyone’s attention,” She said with a shake of her head. Mara smiled tiredly.

“Always has.” She turned her head up, watching as the blue-lined lightjet buzzed over the source of the tank-fire, then quickly banked away towards the hills as it gained pursuit once again. She forced herself to look away as footsteps clicked across the harbor’s stone flooring, watching as Zed trotted to the crane that would lift the container onto the waiting ship, Ruby’s white suit gleaming as lightning struck the sea behind her and the harbor master. Mara frowned a bit, looking back to the city. Her core lurched. She still didn’t like the idea of leaving Beck behind with only that tall dark and stoic program for back-up.

But what choice did she have? She had to stay with the crew. Behind her, the crane started up. She heard Dash yell “Don’t put this thing in the Sea, Zed!” and turned to Ray.

“We should get on-board.” She said quietly, the clank of the container down onto the cargo ship covering the next explosion from within Argon that sent blue flames to the sky. If they didn’t leave now, she knew, they’d never leave. With a nod from Ray, the two turned away and headed towards the cargo ship, the rest of the crew loading up as Ruby returned from speaking with the Harbormaster.

“When you get to Ferrum,” Ruby said to Mara, “Go to the Control Circuit club and ask for Reia. Tell her I sent you.” Ruby smiled a little bit. “She’ll make sure you get to where you need to go.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Mara blinked. Ruby shook her head.

“I have to stay and make sure they don’t get derezzed,” She gestured out towards Argon, towards where Beck and his friend were still causing destruction and chaos. “You’ll be alright.” She reached out, putting a hand on Mara’s shoulder. “Keep your eyes forward, Mara. Don’t look back.”

Easier said than done. Mara tried to smile, even as Zed took her hand and they began to walk towards the container.

Another blast rattled the skies. Mara stopped in her tracks. Zed halted beside her.

“Mara?” He asked softly, but she could only shake her head. She looked at her crew, waiting inside the cargo container, and then looked over her shoulder at Argon. At the lightjet blasting past another dozen red-lines in the sky, toppling them with its wake turbulence.

"What's going to happen to them?" She asked, watching as a Recognizer joined the chase. "To Beck and..."

Tron. She realized it now. Beck was the Renegade, but he'd learned from someone. That someone had to have been Tron.

Tron really was alive. She turned to Ruby.

"How will they get out? How will you get them out?"

Ruby sighed quietly. "Truthfully? I don't know. They know the city better than Tesler or Clu ever could, but..." She paused, watching another Recognizer fly in a different direction. "Getting out of this will take a User given miracle. We might not be able to.”

"And you're okay with that?" Zed blurted out, "With Beck and Tron just getting derezzed? Or worse?!"

"Of course not." Ruby frowned at him. "But I have to consider the bigger picture. This rebellion is worth nothing without numbers. They both made their choices, in this milli and every one before that.”

In order to defend the hapless garage crew. To try and retake the Grid all on their own.

And what had she done in that time? Wrangled a crew of beta mechanics. Had a crush on the Renegade—and oh, what a mess that was!—and gotten in over her head.

Wished for his deresolution.

Mara bit her lip, then shook her head. Murmuring an apology to her memory of Able, she strode forward. Ray was still on the ramp, and she jolted as Mara pulled her back.

“Ray—” She took a breath, “I need you to help Zed look after the others.”

“What?” Ray asked, eyes wide as Zed called out Mara’s name behind her. Mara continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I’m not coming with you. I need you to do this for me, alright?” She met Ray’s gaze. “Stay out of trouble, and keep everyone together.” She put both hands on Ray’s shoulders, and tried for another smile. “I know you can do it.”

“Mara…” Ray whispered, stunned. A spark of determination came into her eyes as she nodded, then quickly pulled her friend into an embrace. “Be careful.”

“I should be telling you that,” Mara laughed quietly, then stepped back. “…See you.”

Ray waved. Mara turned on her heel, then stopped in front of Zed.

“Zed—”

“Save it.” He said firmly, then smiled at her. “’Course I’m coming with you.” He looked over her shoulder, then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Bartik! Try not to get derezzed, okay!”

“Y-yeah!” Bartik shouted back, the stark blue-on-dark of a patch over his eye the only thing visible of him as Mara turned around. “You guys too!”

Mara smiled a bit, then palmed up her baton as she walked off the ramp and back towards the harbor entrance. Ruby, standing nearby with her arms crossed over her chest, tilted her head.

“Just what do you two think you can do?”

Mara frowned. “I don’t know,” She said firmly, “But I won’t leave without Beck.” She looked at Ruby, cracking her baton in both hands. “So I guess I’ll improvise.”

Her bike rezzed in a flare of blue-white code and a dull thud. Zed was barely a pace behind her, and the two of them raced back to the city.

She could only hope they made it in time to help.

—

“We really,” Beck ducked, “have got to,” He scrambled up the wall, onto the overhang of a light pole, “got to stop meeting like this!” He huffed out, glaring down at General Tesler through his shaded visor. The General glared right back up at him, hands glowing white-hot.

Beck had wanted to be a distraction, but this…this was a little much!

“Did you really think you could escape from us?” Tesler spat from below, face as dark as a stormcloud. Slowly, glancing towards the half dozen red-lined soldiers standing at Tesler’s back, Beck reached back for his disk.

“Did a few times already.” He said as he palmed his disk, kicking it on. It revved beneath his palm, vibrating faintly. Tesler just sneered.

“Not this time.”

Quick as a flash, he lashed out with both hands, a metallic clang echoing through the street as he grabbed onto the light pole and began to tug. Beck cried out, instinctively grabbing on and hanging on for his disk as he had a single nano to process the situation. Stay on the pole and get sent down to the street, or jump for it and make a run for the rooftops.

No choice.

“We’ll see about that!”

He shifted his weight, and as the light pole finally broke, he leapt for the roof. Rain slick metal slipped beneath his fingers as Tesler bellowed in frustration, and that frustration turned to a rage filled shout as Beck made it over the edge of the roof.

“After him!” Tesler shouted, throwing the broken half of the light pole far away. It landed with a clang, but the sound couldn’t hide the firing of Tesler’s arms once more. The General, now in hot pursuit, came after Beck with all the fury of a storm.

“You!” He shouted, all trace of control gone from his face, “Have been a thorn in my side for far too long!” He didn’t look away as a second fuel tower exploded in the distance, Tron’s handiwork setting bits and pieces of Argon alight. Beck spared a thought for how much of his city would even be left after this milli, before he inclined his head.

“And what makes you think that you can get rid of me so easily?” He asked, keeping his eyes on Tesler’s stance. The General glared at him, hands becoming too painfully bright to look at. His knees bent. Beck shifted his weight to his heels. Tesler’s glare slipped into a sneer.

“Who said anything about easy?”

With more speed than should have been possible for such a large frame, Tesler rocketed forward. Beck cried out as the General slammed into him, knocking them both from the roof and into the alleyway below. They hit the ground hard, a breathless cry forcing its way out of Beck’s throat as Tesler picked him up by the throat and threw him, right into the side of a dumpster. His baton shattered as he landed on it, driving shrapnel into the side of his leg, slicing through the mobility circuit there, tiny drops of bright blue energy plopping into the alley. He stumbled upright, disk in hand, and swallowed hard. Tesler had not been kidding: this wasn’t going to be easy.

Beck looked up, stepping back as Tesler’s footsteps echoed through the alley.

“Oh,” He almost seemed to purr, “I’m going to enjoy this pulling you apart.”

Beck’s core lurched. Tesler strode forward almost casually, that sneer still on his face. It was probably his default expression by now, Beck thought to himself, and it wasn’t helped by a horrid glimmer in his eye as his tremendous gun rezzed around his hand. Beck’s eyes widened, and he threw himself to the ground as the gun went off with a horrifically loud blast to take out the dumpster and the wall behind it, along with a chunk of the interior wall of that building. If that shot had hit, even a glancing blow—! Grid, he had to get out of here!

Beck didn’t let himself hesitate. Pushing off his good leg he leapt back to his feet, slipping in a puddle and skidding on the turn away from the main road. Tesler yelled behind him, a bark of an order for all programs to fall back to the search for Tron, that Beck was his to deal with, and a second blast rocketed down the alleyway. Beck rolled, softly crying out at the pain in his leg. He didn’t dare look down at the injury, knowing that the limb was still attached but probably compromised with the way his pace slowed and he had to force each step. Tesler’s footsteps behind him were like thunderclaps, the blast of his gun lightning that struck too close for comfort. Stumbling around a corner, Beck’s core hitched and stuttered as he realized, truly, that there was no way he’d make it out of this.

Not this time.

He was alone, injured, and under relentless pursuit. Tron was too far away. He had no back up.

He was going to derezz here, at Tesler’s bullying hands.

No. No! He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let some glitch like Tesler be the end of him! Not here, not now!

Gritting his teeth, Beck pushed himself forward down the alleyway, struggling on as Tesler’s slow but steady pursuit echoed through the roads and turns at his back. Grid, this was some sick game to him, wasn’t it? It had to be. Tesler knew he had Beck right where he wanted him and was going to play with him before finishing him off. It had to be some sick form of retribution. Beck’s core lurched at the thought, and with another soft sound of pain he forced himself to run. Behind him, Tesler’s pace picked up. Another blast scored the building behind Beck; that was four. Provided Tesler hadn’t gotten another upgrade, he only had two left.

It wasn’t a comforting thought. Neither was the sight of the main road dead ahead as he skidded around another corner, Argon’s main looping highway stretched out ahead of him. Somehow, in all the twists and turns and rooftop leaping before Tesler had caught up, he’d found his way to the residential off-ramps. If he jumped off here, he’d be in the heart of the city, where dozens of hundreds of red-lined soldiers marched and rumbled along the roads and buildings. If he kept going, he’d be an easy target with no place to hide and a bum leg, not to mention no bike on the five kilometer stretch of empty highway. It was no choice at all, but with Tesler right behind him he had to make one.

With a growl, Beck kept moving forward onto the highway, stumbling forward as Tesler’s fifth blast split the air. Overhead, the whir of chopper blades filled the air. A chopper flew overhead, the searchlight throwing Beck in stark contrast to the dark Grid road beneath his feet. His steps lurched, another frame integrity warning skipping across his visuals as he hobbled along, no longer able to run. Tesler’s laugh split the space behind him as his final blast went wide in what Beck could tell was a purposeful shot, on that kept him from running forward as the road collapsed under the energy blast, but the sound of collapsing code couldn’t cover the sound of bikes approaching from the on-ramp, or the roar of lightjets and recognizers in the distance. Beck stopped, stepping back away from Tesler as the General stalked towards him, ignoring that Beck’s back was now to open air. The chopper buzzed overhead, searchlight turning the highway white. Beck stepped back, heel almost over the edge. Nowhere to go, help nowhere in sight, and Tesler closing in. A recognizer landed behind the General, offloading a dozen more soldiers. Bikes hummed all around, soldiers waiting to run him down if he tried to flee. He looked over his shoulder; he’d survived higher falls before, but with his leg like this…Grid, what choice was there? He looked back at Tesler, shifting his weight. This was closing in on the worst situation he’d ever been in. When had Tesler gotten so desperate? Why had he gotten so desperate? What had Clu done?

Or had he just been given enough code to overload his own systems? Beck swallowed hard, watching the General with a wary expression.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment,” Tesler said, stalking closer. The electric hum of his hands caught in Beck’s audio, flares of bright light making shadows out of everything. Beck tightened his grip on his disk. “How long I’ve been waiting to take you down.”

“You’re going to have to wait a while longer. I’ve got things to do.” Beck retorted, disk flaring overload bright in his hand. Tesler’s sneer deepened.

“Do you?” He snorted, stopping just out of disk range. Beck hunched over, holding most of his weight on his uninjured leg. One second. He just needed a single moment when Tesler could do nothing and— “I doubt that.”

Quick as a flash, Tesler threw out both of his hands like the weapons they were. Beck tried to sidestep, knowing this was his chance, but Tesler was faster. White hot code latched around his torso, holding him in place even as Beck cried out at the pain, the sound of sizzling code filling his audio receivers. Tesler stalked towards him, sneer beginning to become a smirk as Beck struggled weakly.

“Look around you, Mechanic! You can’t save this city! You can’t even save yourself!” Tesler roared, tightening his grip. Something cracked in Beck’s chest, causing him to gasp and forcing him to chase away a frame integrity warning, shutting off his warning system when it returned a second later. He was doomed, he knew it, he didn’t need to be told again and again! Tesler retracted his arms a bit, but now held Beck over the edge of the highway, leaving him with no way to kick out. At least he didn’t have weight on his bad leg anymore. Beck gasped, chest cracking again. “All you’re going to be is cubes!” Tesler leaned in, the sneer turning his voice oily. Beck shuddered, only half because of the pain. “And that’s if Clu’s feeling merciful. I won’t be nearly as lenient.”

Gasping for air, Beck forced himself to look Tesler in the eye. Slowly, painfully, he raised his disk.

“Funny.” Beck choked out. Tesler’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what you said last time I did this.”

With all the strength he had left in him, Beck struck down. Tesler’s eyes went wide as, for the third time, he found himself without hands. Beck dropped down to the road below, one level, two, and impacted hard on the road with a breathless cry. Tesler’s still hot hands fell to the ground beside him as he stumbled back to his feet and lurched ahead, into the shadows of the highway. Tesler’s voice was a distant roar overhead, the rattling rumble of approaching vehicles covering most of it up. His visuals drenched in warnings, Beck staggered into the shadow of a nearby building, barely holding himself upright with one hand. They’d be searching the area for him. He had to get out, get back to Tron. Leave Argon before they could find them. But with half the city between him and the others, it would be a long trek and—

He looked up as an arm wrapped around his waist, a second following around his chest without warning. He had no time to react.

With a short, breathless cry, Beck was pulled into the darkness.

#tron #tron: uprising #tron fic #!fic #fic: tron liberation

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worldweaverofmediocrity · 1 year

Text

Overlord v The Triforce

An: hopefully the third draft works.

Chapter 1: We Make Three, Thus you’ll never get rid of me.

-Power-

Far to the south of the human nations sat a little girl named Keno Fasris Invern. Keno was listening to her father's lecture on economics when three things happened. A foul feeling (Draconic Energy, a deep part of her remarked in a masucline voice) overtook her entire kingdom and the neighboring kingdoms, completely silencing it. A different kind of foul energy lashed out from Keno’s body, draining her father’s warmth. Turning her into a vampire.

But the third part was the oddest. A sudden surge of “BURN! MAIM! KILL!” drowned Keno in its wrath, only to be ...muzzled and pushed deep into her soul by the Draconic Energy and a third and fourth energies. The third was sand, wind, and death. The fourth could only be described as Power Itself.

“Finally, the Calamity/Curse shuts up.” The voice breathed a deep sigh of relief. “While the Curse isn’t gone, merely weakened, I can finally hear myself thinking again. Something you will prize after millenia trapped under a castle with only an unholy screeching beast as company.”

“Dad? Why did you stop?” Keno asked. Her father’s eyes lacked an inner light.

Frightened by her dad’s lack of response and the voice, Keno ran to her mother. Who also lacked the inner light and didn’t respond. Next she went to her siblings, and they too lacked an inner light. The guards, maids, butlers, and various other castle dwellers that weren’t the Royal Family all failed to respond and lacked Inner Light.

“My name is Ganondorf Dragmire, King of the Gerudos and Unending Scourge to Hyrule.” Ganondorf said, cutting through Keno’s panic attack. “I can teach you how to exact vengeance upon the dragon who dared to do this.”

“Okay. let’s say I believe you, how will you teach me?” Keno timidly asked the voice after looking around for a minute.

Her shadow lengthened as a literal tree branch bubbled up. Keno knew from her ‘Ganondorf’ part that it was the literal weakest weapon (and variant) that she-he-they could create. Keno obligingly took the tree branch out of her shadow and turned to face the red goblin-like creature that bubbled up.

“This is a Red Bokoblin, the absolute weakest of our forces. Only good for basic manual labor outside of war time and pushing enemies to our stronger minions through sheer weight of numbers. That’s if you don’t let them loose on enemy supply lines. And if you don’t take the time to give further education than what can be fit during their creation.” Ganondorf said. “While I’ll teach you many things such as war and peace time rulership. Magic and Curses. How to stay sane while trapped for millenia and how to break seals while inside them. How to be extremely annoying to your fellow immortals. But the most important lesson starts now.”

The Red Bokoblin pulled a copy of Keno’s tree branch from its shadow.

“All of your plans will be thwarted eventually. Your hordes and associated empires will fall. If you're unlucky then said hordes will not have taken out the other nations. Either way. It will always come down to you vs how many enemies you have left. While in the past World it was usually the Princess of Wisdom and the Hero of Courage, I can not guarantee that it will be a 2vs1 in this World. But for now we will focus on one vs one combat.” Ganondorf said.

“Wait there’s another world?” Keno asked but alas the Bokoblin rushed her forcing a panicked dodge.

-Wisdom-

Renner Theiere Chardelon Rye Vaiself frowned at the chess board. Ignoring her elder sister’s taunts and drawing upon her accumulated knowledge. In five moves there was a way to utterly humiliate her foolish elder sister. But there was another way to permanently prove the worth of reading so many books in 20 moves. Renner decided to be the better person and do the 20 moves.

“How kind of you.” Said a female aristocratic voice in Renner’s head, once the elder sister left.

“Who's there?” Renner glanced around in a hurry.

“There is nothing to spot. I am part of your soul.” The voice said. Before proving that statement by stating several embarrassing facts about Renner’s childhood that only Renner could know.

Renner breathed in. “Okay so you’ve been part of my soul since birth or close enough to not matter. Why didn’t you speak before hand?” Renner thought-spoke to her soul symbiote.

“Three reasons. The First is that your soul/personality only has recently stabilized. If I interacted beforehand then you would just be my metaphorical hand puppet. Secondly I was observing this world and its plights. Thirdly, I lacked the Power to actually demonstrate abilities so I could properly teach you.” The symbiote said.

“How did you gain the Power? And why can I hear the capitalization?” Renner thought as she sipped some tea. “What will you be teaching me?”

“Soul Resonance and simply time. I am Soul Bound in three ways. First of which I am Soul Bound to the Goddess of Time, Hylia, of which I am but a mere fragment of. My name is usually Zelda, of the Hyrule Royalty. Though usually the second way triggers when I am a princess. The Second is applied to me and The Hero of Courage, so long as we exist so too will the Curse of Demise. Demise was a Demon God in your tongue back in my first life. This contributed half of my reluctance to making you my hand puppet, the other half was of course morality.”

“The Third way I am Soul Bound is to the Triforce, a wish granting artifact given to Hylia by the three Golden Creator Goddesses. Though unless you have an equal amount of Power, Wisdom, and Courage in your soul then it will split into the three pieces. I am the Wielder of Wisdom. I have sensed the Triforce of Power close to our position (within national borders) but strangely untainted.” Zelda lectured. “Ganondorf Dragmire is always the Wielder of Power but constantly gets overtaken by Ganon, his personification of the Curse of Demise.”

“So by untainted, you mean Ganon is weaker and/or suppressed by whoever holds Ganondorf’s soul?” Renner asked,

Zelda nodded. …somehow.

“So where is Courage? Is Gazef or Lakyus Courage?” Renner asked.

“No. But it is inevitable that we will cross paths with Courage.” Zelda said. “Especially if we tackle the Eight Fingers. But before we can start dealing with that …mess, we need resources. The first lessons help with those problems. First we set up a Power/Energy cycle to create an environment for reagents to grow. We do that by manifesting our own Power as tokens (Rupees for my previous World and Gold Coins for this one) thus stimulating the economy and the ecology.”

“So we’ll be able to boost our fighting ability and hopefully draw in Ganondorf, right?” Renner asked.

“Yes, but mostly we’re doing this for the fighting ability.” Zelda said. “This is the only way to get our troops up to par in your lifetime at this development level.”

-Courage-

“HALT IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!” Shouted a guardsman chasing after a thief.

The thief dodged and weaved through the market as the cops desperately wadded through the masses. A boy with the strange name of Climb only had a second to react before the thief reached him. Climb purposely stuck his leg out, tripping the thief.

The thief tried to stab Climb as he fell but the thief was inexperienced and thus easy to dodge. Climb stomped on the knife-holding wrist, forcing the thief to let go.

“Thank you for your help, kind citizen.” Said one of the guards.

Climb nodded as the guards picked up the thief. On the thief’s right arm was a small tattoo of a eight fingered hand.

“That was definitely a criminal symbol..” A small part of Climb whispered after Climb had returned to his home.

Climb looked around his hovel.

There was a zombie-ghost knight standing in his doorway, Climb jolted upwards as he grabbed his sword and …exhaled? Climb blinked, took a deep breath and exhaled for the guards again.

The zombie walked closer and shook its head.

“I am sorry, but I am borrowing your voice to speak.” The small part of Climb whispered in his mind as the zombie flapped its lips. “Throughout the eons I have lost my voice one way or another. Some from a simple vow of silence, others lost in battle.”

Climb clicked his tongue, straightened his back, and charged the zombie. The zombie smiled as it easily deflected Climb’s untrained blow, raised its rusted circular shield to catch the boy, and twirled to send the boy crashing into his bed. …though a feather-like barrier prevented any damage from occurring to the room.

“As for alerting the guards to my presence after I leave.” The zombie shook its head once more. “They will only declare you insane and punish you for wasting their time. We are leaving no evidence after all.”

Climb stood back up, gritted his teeth, before he charged once more, this time ducking underneath the zombie’s deflection blow. Climb’s sword scraped against the zombie’s chestplate, Climb could still see the zombie’s smile through the sparks. The zombie dropped its sword, which dissipated into golden sparks, and grabbed Climb by his shirt’s collar. Which brought him to eye level with the zombie.

“If I am born again, that means this nation, if not the entire world, will need our presence on the royal stage.” The zombie red eye glowed. “Judging by the low energy levels, we have a breathing period of a few years, maybe nine, maybe six, or maybe even 3. I can not tell through your senses, but something is building to a crescendo, so from sunset to midnight I will be training you. Do not worry, the space I naturally generate around me will not negatively impact any other training you will undergo, and you will have the full stamina as if you rested from sunset to sunrise. Either way, that criminal organization will generate practical experience.”

Climb futilely sliced and punched the zombie’s hand. It was only after the zombie had finished its monologue that it let Climb fall on his ass.

“I am the Hero’s Shade from another world and I will not let this world fall.”

---------------------=======================

First draft below, revised as a blooper.

Princess Renner of the Re-estie Kingdom called her personal Knight Climb and her (basically personal) Adventurer’s group Blue Rose to her chambers. Lakayus placed a tray of food and drink on the table Climb carried in. Gagran pulled in seatings around Renner’s bed while Evileye, Tina, and Tia secured the room.

Renner waited for her friends to finish their tasks and sit down. “This will be shocking but this is not my first life. Nor even my thousandth.”

The others blinked in confusion.

Renner smiled and held up her hand with the back to them. Then clenched it revealing 3 golden triangles in a triangle formation, strangely only the bottom left triangle was actually filled in. “To summarize literally millenia, I am the Fragment of the Goddess Hylia that is (or was) Incarnating through the Royal Bloodline of Hyrule. My most common name was Zelda.” Zelda? Renner? Unclenched her fist and the triangles disappeared. “Despite dedicating this Lifetime (up to this point) to searching, I haven’t found Hyrule nor any other nation I know of. The species that formed said nations are also gone, save the Hylians though you call them Elves.”

“So why haven’t you run off to the Elves then, if you spent so much time as one?” Gagran questioned.

“I was born to this royal family, thus I will dedicate at least this lifetime to this nation.” Renner answered while folding her hands on her lap. “Besides, this rare chance will help with my inter-species diplomacy.”

Lakaysus nodded in understanding. “What were those Golden Triangles?”

“That was the Triforce, a wish granting artifact if all three pieces are assembled.” Renner rubbed the hand the Tri Force appeared on. “Hylia tasked her descendants to protect it while She maintained Time Itself, I like many Zelda’s before me have the Tri Force of Wisdom. While the most obvious function is better magic and bigger mana pools, it also allows me to consult The Past. Whether that means the Past Incarnations of Hylia or the Past Incarnations of the Spirit of The Hero or simply the Past of the World Around me. Previous Zelda’s have used the World Bit to question where Monsters laid and where Armies are Marching.”

Evileye snorted with annoyance and deep satisfaction. She waved away the room’s attention.

“No wonder Ganondorf was so mad that Malice started spawning.” Climb shook with laughter. “And how you kept directing me to the needed spots.”

Evileye suppressed a twitch. While Renner pulled Climb into a hug, Climb held up his clutched fist to the room. Showing that the bottom right triangle of the Tri-Force was filled in.

“I was named Link in quite a few Lives, nearly all of them preferring to stay silent for one reason or another.” Climb said after untangling himself from his princess. “Other than that weird time with the Falling Moon, I was Hylian as well. Specifically Zelda’s personal Knight in a good number of them.”

The ninja twins giggled. “History repeats itself-” “-Yet Again.”

“So what does your Tri-Force piece do?” Evileye asked.

“I don’t have a normal body. Instead of a wound and bleeding, any and all damage is done to my ‘Hearts’ which I can increase in numerous ways.” Climb explained. “I can also see other things Hearts, like other Hylians, the various Forces of Ganondorf, and items. For items I can also see how much damage they can output in Hearts. And most recently it allowed me to speed up while attacking if I Dodge Perfectly.” Climb shrugged. “How that equates to Courage, I will leave Renner to contemplate.”

Renner sighed. “If you are here then that means the Entirety of the Tri-force was summoned to this world.” Renner and Climb groaned.

“Well this time there are no guardians for Ganondorf to take over.” Climb consoled. Renner nodded.

“I’m guessing the Third Holder is an Enemy to Hyrule?” Gagran asked.

“Not just to Hyrule but to the entire world, many lifetimes the nations banded together because of his evil.” Renner said. “Sometimes even his species the Gerudos themselves joined the Grand Alliance. Though the largest (and smallest) alliance was our previous one. Where Ganon subverted all of our Kingdom’s defenses in an hour, turning them against the citizens. Link had to be taken to a place of healing for a century while I trapped the now Calamity ganon inside Hyrule Castle.” Rebber hugged herself and looked downwards to the side. “I don’t know if I can do it again so soon.”

“Well hopefully Ganon is trapped between worlds or something.” Climb rubbed Renner’s back. “I certainly felt him resisting the Extreme Summoning Magic, so either he's trapped in a worldless void or somewhere far off.”

“Nope.” Evileye countered. “It was C, the distant past.”

“Of course.” The others muttered. “We should have seen that one coming.”

“I was just following the Rainbow Eyes naming practice.” Evileye said. “Unfortunately before I could make any lasting changes to that kingdom, Dragonic magic fell and turned everything undead. Of course since I was the only thing left alive. ...or well left with my sanity, I was quite unfairly blamed as the Root of it.”

Lakayus tapped her chin. “Undead kingdom?” She frowned before jolting upwards. “You are Landfall?!”

“Yep.” Evileye shrugged. “Still haven’t found that Dragon, I hoped to bring it on my next conquest of Hyrule but that Summoning Magic User seems very far away. Even if they do cast their spell once a century.”

Renner looked at Evileye’s tiny body. “You waited ten years before enacting any changes?” She crossed her arms. “I really doubt you have that much patience.”

“I said Lasting Changes, or do you need to Consult the Past to remember not five minutes ago?” Evileye condescended back. “I’ve been imprisoned for centuries, so a mere ten years was nothing.”

“If you have been doing this for literal millenia, why not try a political marriage?” Gagran asked.

The Tri Force wielders facepalmed. Or in Evileye’s case, maskpalmed.

“Nobu did have a political marriage but with the Sheikah, forming the modern day Yiga Clan.” Evileye remembered. “But alas even if I wasn’t Incarnated during that Century, the Curse of Demise once again struck. Demise Cursed the Hylian Royal Bloodline and The Spirit of the Hero to be forevermore struck by strife. Usually by yanking me towards blind hatred towards Hyrule, completely ignoring the valid complaints of Little farming land or not sharing the Sheikah Advancements. In favor of BURN! MAIN! KILL!”

The room jolted as Evileye suddenly shouted.

“That got extremely annoying after the First Hour. In the First Lifetime.” Evileye giggled. “And now I don’t hear the yelling anymore.”

“So that's why you never used advanced tactics like using Lynels backed up by Wizzrobes.” Climb pondered. “Wait can you still create Monsters?”

In response a red Goblin-like creature rose out of Evileye’s shadow, waved to everyone and sank back in. “If Calamity Ganon was good for one thing only, it was to further my Monster Creation/Corruption Skills.”

“Did the Bathurth Empire get the brunt of Demise’s curse?” Climb asked.

============

Second Draft Below:

Link and Zelda looked through the caverns below Hyrule Castle. There they found the source of Malice and potentially Sheikah Energy. A dehydrated corpse with bright red hair and bronze skin. A corpse who snapped its- no His neck to stare at the Princess of Wisdom and the Knight of Courage in their current incarnations. The unending tendrils of Malice coiled but before the Malice Tendrils struck, all Three Chosen of the Goddesses felt a tug. On their souls and their Triforce Pieces.

A portal of shimmering Platinum appeared at the top of the cavern. The Oldest Part of Zelda, the Princess of Sky and the Closest to Hylia, knew that the Platinum Portal wasn’t in any of the Goddesses or Demise’s Domains. Tendrils shot from the portal and attached to the Triforce Pieces before straining to detach the Pieces from their bearers.

The King of Power and The Curse of Demise’s Main Victim ...Did not agree. Dehydrated and drained of energy for millenia, the King of Power couldn’t manifest enough strength to shatter the Extreme Summoning Magic. Luckily for the tripartite existence, He didn’t have to.

The Princess of Wisdom and the Knight of Courage were unprepared for the strength in the tendrils and the bonds between Eternally Chosen and Triforce Piece were unbreakable. Thus Link and Zelda were sucked into the portal, though it was fragmented by Power’s rage.

Unfortunately for whatever dwelled on the other side,

You who possess the blood of the Goddess and the Soul of the Hero shall forever be unable to escape from this curse!

The Last Words and Curse of the Demon King Demise activated once more. Propelling Ganon and Ganondorf Dragmire into the portal.

Of course a trans-dimensional portal is finicky business.

=====

An: I got the title from Natewantstobattle’s Evil King Song. Inspired by the Ocarina of time game. As a whole the Triforce got a Nickelodeon Avatar the Last Airbender/Legend of Korra style Reincarnation Method. Where you can ask your past lives for advice.

I am unsure if Renner should have access to the Bow of Light and Light Arrows, Climb with the Master Sword and Hylian Shield (summoning them from the Courage Piece/his Soul) by the time Nazarick rolls around, I do know however, Evileye only has access to the regular enemies in Monster Creation and all items in BOTW. So no Blights or Divine Beasts, no Zant. no Dark Links. etc. hesitant on if she could handcraft new specialized monsters/bosses. The blights in lore were purpose made to counter the Champions. At least by the time Nazarick rolls around.

I don’t know if Evileye will be able to mass produce the minions at the Hyrule Warriors level or the standard BOTW level. Hyrule warriors because I've often heard that Overlord is a Musou/Dynasty Warriors type story. Though the designs are the BOTW incarnations.

First Blood goes to the Overlord. Because I don’t want a bog standard Zelda Cycle (Like Nazarick plopped into existence in Ganon’s Razing Path to Hyrule) but in Overlord’s New World. It's a different world so different things should happen.

If you want to see a ‘Zelda Marries Ganondorf to break the cycle’ congrats, there’s a loooooooong comic about that: its called A Tale of Two Rulers by FigmentForms on Tumblr and a decent chunk of it is dubbed by Starbot Dubs on youtube.

ch2:

=Power=

The Invernia castle had seen better days. There were malformed goblins and trolls infesting the castle and surrounding lands.

------------

Evil eye overheard her leader’s delusions.

“Shall we make her delusions fact?” Ganondorf asked.

=Wisdom=

Yellow light swirled inwards, collapsing from a room sized mass into a small handful of Gold Coins. One side had the symbol of the Triforce and the other side had the symbol of Re-Etize.

=Courage=

#Story Prototype #Overlord #legend of zelda #my writing #may get rewritten

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scarletooyoroi · 1 year

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"Care for some company?" Kuki didn't even bother waiting on a reply, settling down next to Thoma on the cliff-side. Looking out over the star-filled sky for the briefest of moments before returning her attention back to Thoma, not letting herself get distracted for long. "I heard that a lot of things are happening over in Mondstadt lately, it'd be the perfect time to visit. Maybe do some business while we're there." She was going out there again soon, only had to sort out a few things with the gang first.

"I've also heard that Shams is returning back to Inazuma for some big business, we could always go see him. Who knows maybe he'll give us a ride over?"

Finding these motes of private ground was part of the smaller joys of Thoma. Whether for some grander goal or to simply find a hidden space from the exhaustive gaze of the public eye. As of late, he's come to find that he often needed as such when it comes to the grounds of Inazuma. The attention garnered by many more communities in the name of prestige found itself to be a new definition of exhausting.

Exhausting in one fashion, beneficial in another, harrowing in a certain branch overall. People have a multitude of colored sights when it comes to his existence now.

In a small way, its funny to see that collected control melt away from his hands.

"To make roost by my side already answers the stomping grounds of that question." He shoots back in a case of harmless mirth. Yet, the concise way she can enter or exit any scenery is worthy of not. Even his sharpened senses find themselves having to exert extra effort when at most times, like a ghost, Kuki Shinobu could situate herself into any situation.

The idea of letting Mondstadt being reached stirs a curious nudge within his heart. Whereas business lies her opportunity, there was a personal chip that's undeniably applied to his crimson emblazoned shoulder. Perhaps she knew? Thoma couldn't quite remember if he talked about his starting roots within the Nation of Anemo. "When things aren't happening in Mondstadt is what I'd like to know. As if a firm kick of wind underneath its sails starting from the Stormterror incident, it looks like even past seeds that found root are beginning to bloom."

Not to mention the particulars that find themselves situated in town in the recent days. Thoma's intuition scratched at the possibility of personal investments being made there.

....

Then, his thoughts paused altogether when that name pressed into the limelight.

"Ugh.." He's certainly not going to hide his distaste on the matter.

Shams for the oddest reason found 'camaraderie' since those drunken days amidst a Sumeru eatery. In turn, it led to a particularly long 'bout in finding the guy just about everywhere. How could the blonde not perceive this as some brand of divine prank after enough encounters were tucked under their belt. In terms like this, he wished Kuki didn't have a mask in order to see her expression.

He's pretty damn certain she has a smile forged underneath. "Why are you trying to draw it as a question? We're virtually unofficial crew members from these stories he completely misremembers. At least I can admit he's someone breaking into the ranks of high class captains out there, it'd be a swift journey."

That doesn't stop Thoma from casting a dry stare towards her.

"You better not be getting overly excited about this."

@the-lytenye-realms

#the-lytenye-realms #| Tucked Letters #AH THE HUMBLE BEGINNINGS #AS THEY SAY

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jasontoddiefor · 3 years

Text

A gift for @thenegoteator :D

It took a Temple to raise a child, and Mace Windu was very much aware of this. However, it did not explain what Ahsoka Tano was doing at his door in the middle of the night. Ahsoka had deep bags under her eyes, which wasn’t too much of a surprise considering the current living arrangements of her lineage. While little Luke and Leia were relatively well-behaved newborns, they were still only a few weeks old. If their human caretakers didn’t wake up at every single little whimper, then the togruta with the superior hearing certainly would.

“Do you want to come inside?” Mace asked, not letting his confusion show. He was used to people coming to his door at the oddest hours.

“If—if I can?” Ahsoka replied as if only now becoming aware of her actions. In this, she reminded Mace of her Grandmaster and the many nights Mace had found Obi-Wan coming to his doorstep during the first months of Anakin’s stay at the Temple.

“My door is always open, Padawan,” Mace said – and watched her wince.

Ah.

So there was the problem.

“Caleb is currently sleeping in my bed as Depa is away,” Mace explained. “So please keep your voice down. I don’t want to wake him unnecessarily.”

The boy had already had a hellish enough month behind him, he needed all the rest he could get. Even though the war was officially over, enough planets refused to surrender, drawing out the battles until they had nothing but children left to sacrifice. It weighed on Mace’s shoulders, making him wonder whether he wasn’t too old to carry such burdens still.

Ahsoka nodded and followed Mace inside. He couldn’t recall whether Ahsoka had been in his room before, but from the way she eagerly looked around his quarters, taking in the sight of old instruments, books, and holos, he guessed she hadn’t. Well, at one point in their life, every Jedi had set a foot inside Mace’s quarters, so this was bound to happen sooner or later.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”

Ahsoka tore herself away from the sight and looked at him with surprise. “I—yes? That would be nice.”

“Then I will make a cup. Do you have any preferences? I believe I even have Obi-Wan’s favorite blend here.”

Mace had no idea whether he had bought it or if Obi-Wan had just left it here from himself when he came over. Knowing the other man, it was likely that the latter was the case. For a man claiming to be so very polite, Obi-Wan could be a right brat.

Mace’s kitchen was small, with only a few cabinets and one shelf, two cooking tiles, and an oven. He wasn’t much of a cook himself and preferred to eat in the cafeteria with everyone, frequently taste-tasting what the Initiates had prepared. He selected two uneven cups Depa had made for him when she’d been young from the shelf. Why she had decided to pick up pottery of all hobbies was beside him, but he supposed that she found the motion soothing. Devan did enjoy parkouring through the lower levels and Echuu was quite content playing the guitar to calm himself.

Perhaps Mace should focus less on why all three of his Padawans had decided they wouldn’t follow him into theatre so they could continue to make fun of him. Setting the water to boil, Mace searched through his cabinets until he found Obi-Wan’s favorite blend. The fruity tea was far from the blend he preferred, but Mace prided himself on being a good host. While he waited for the tea to finish steeping, Mace enjoyed the quiet of the night. For all that there were few sounds as dear to him as that of people walking, or in the case of some younglings and few selected Knights, running, down their large hallways, Mace could appreciate the quiet when the world came to rest.

With two finished cups in hand, he returned to the living room, where he found Ahsoka curled up on the sofa, no longer studying his quarters for any hidden secrets.

“Thank you,” she said when she accepted the cup from him. She held it in her hands as if to warm them, letting the steam hit her face. She breathed in once, twice, finding her rhythm again. Mace waited until she’d calmed enough to speak up.

“What brings you to my door, Padawan Tano?”

Ahsoka flinched and appeared to make herself even smaller as if attempting to vanish. When it became apparent that it didn’t work, that silence hadn’t been what she had sought him out for, she let out a sigh. “You keep calling that.”

“Calling you what?” Mace asked, his brow raised, playing oblivious.

“… Padawan.”

“Are you not? I was under the impression that you had returned to the Temple.”

“I did, but I still left,” Ahsoka replied. “I left and I was convinced that I had to leave and that it was good that I did. I still think I had to leave the Temple behind.”

“Then why are you torn?”

Ahsoka’s hold on her cup tightened and so, perhaps in wise anticipation, she set it on the table and buried her hands in her robes instead, hiding their twitching from view. Mace could trace all her mannerisms to her teachers and couldn’t imagine what it must be like to purposefully rip all those pieces from yourself when they had become so ingrained in your very being. Even Dooku, who’d fallen so far from their beliefs, had been unable to fully rid himself of Yoda’s lessons. Maybe it was for the best. Hope had become a scarce commodity during the war, yet Mace considered the possibility that in a decade, they wouldn’t be imprisoning a Sith anymore.

“But am I still a Padawan? A member of this Order?” Ahsoka asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she shook like the leaves on the trees in the courtyard.

“Has your Master told you anything different?”

Ahsoka paused. “…. No.”

Seeing that realization was settling within her, Mace nodded. “Then you should not doubt him. You are a Jedi, Ahsoka Tano, and you will remain one as long as you live by our tenets.”

That teased a startled laugh from her. “Compassion for all except people who cheat at push-n-pull?”

As if transported back ten years, hearing Anakin say the same, Mace snorted. “The similarities between you and your Master astonish me every time. Yes, Padawan Tano, compassion for all.”

This seemed to calm the youth as she reached for her cup again and emptied it slowly. “It’s good.”

Mace smiled into his own cup. “I’d be insulted if it wasn’t. Obi-Wan forced me to memorize all the steps for making it.”

The then young Knight had been frazzled, and Mace honestly couldn’t tell what it had been about and had forced Mace to learn how to make this tea until he’d more or less collapsed on Mace’s sofa, completely knocked out until morning when Anakin had picked him up.

“He does do that,” Ahsoka agreed. “I think this is the only thing anyone can make reliably now.”

“Sleep-deprived much?” Mace inquired.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Like you wouldn’t believe. I love Luke and Leia dearly, but they are demanding and need a lot of attention.”

That was honestly kinder than Mace would have described newborns at her age.

“There is a reason why we usually don’t have children this young in the Temple,” Mace said. “They are very handful. Do you get enlisted to help very often?”

Ahsoka shook her head. “No, Obi-Wan, Skyguy, and Padmé got it covered, and I’m mostly just helping out somewhere else.”

She trailed off a little. This, perhaps, was another issue, but one that could be equally easily dealt with.

“Thank you then for going where you are needed,” Mace told her.

Ahsoka blinked. “Huh?”

“You will grow into a specific role someday, Ahsoka, and that needs time. Do not feel as if you need to earn back your place in the Temple. You don’t need to earn yourself a home you have always had. For now, trust me when I say that everyone you’ve helped is glad that you were there. It is an admirable quality to have a sense of where you are needed. Do not see it as being the odd one out.”

This was the hardest lesson to teach and learn, the fact that there was a path out there for you, but that it took time to see where it would lead. Too many of their Padawans now felt utterly lost without the structure the war had provided them with.

“Oh. I guess if you say so.”

“Yes, I do say so,” Mace agreed. Then, eyeing Ahsoka’s empty cup, he added on, “do you want another?”

“No.” Ahsoka yawned. “I think I might best head back.”

“You can also sleep here if you want, and don’t mind Caleb hogging the blanket. I won’t go to bed tonight anyway.”

Ahsoka squinted at him as if attempting to discern whether he was lying. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really—”

“Ahsoka, go to bed.”

Clearly feeling better already, she saluted and, after Mace showed her his bedroom, made herself comfortable in it. She took off her shoes and tossed her robe over a chair before climbing into the bed. Ahsoka had barely laid down when Caleb already turned around to curl around her, clinging like a little monkey. After a moment’s apprehension, she relaxed and was fast asleep. Stealing one last glance at the two Padawan, Mace returned to his living room, looking through the incoming reports.

Hectic as the aftermath of the war was, as much effort as caring for their children was, Mace wouldn’t trade it for a single thing in the world.

#star wars #mace windu #ahsoka tano #jedi #light fix it verse #fanfic

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

Brothers React to the MC Looking at Them Lovingly

This is a personal experiment. This is the very first time I've written one of these with a goal in mind, "Make them fall in love all over again." It's a tall order. I hope I succeeded. 🙏 Special thanks to @a-chaotic-dumbass for picking the mood for this one!

Intro:

We all know that look. The one where one person stares at another like they just realized they're the only thing in the universe and they're in fucking awe of it. The kind of look that tells you they're utterly enthralled by that other person and just can't get enough of their presence. That look. Yeah, the brothers just got that look out of the MC.

Let's warm some cold hearts, everybody.

Lucifer

Lucifer was always beautiful. Always has been, as an angel or a demon.

A morning star is one that outshines all the rest. It stands out when the other stars have dimmed, holding onto its luster in defiance of the sun.

There couldn't be a truer title for Lucifer to have. Not the horrors of war nor the fires of Hell could tarnish his radiance in any way…

But there were moments, like right then, where the MC caught a glimpse of a different sort of Lucifer.

His brothers would often only see the uptight Lucifer, the practiced visage of perfection that he tried so hard to keep up…

But after a long day, when he thinks he's alone, he retires to his room to listen to his music and the difference is astonishing.

There's something so entrancingly calm about him… How the light of the fireplace flickers and dances across his alabaster skin to the subtle slouch of his posture. His face no longer marred by creases of stress and frustration…

And his expression is so pure… So tranquil and at peace… Beauty without effort. A shine that can't be ignored. A morning star, in the truest sense of the word…

It took awhile for Lucifer to see the MC leaning against his doorframe.

They were staring at him with the oddest look… Smiling like they were enraptured by something, but he didn't have a clue why. He was just sitting there…

So, naturally, he turned to suspicion.

"Am I really that amusing…?"

Frankly, he wasn’t prepared for the little laugh they let out in response.

"Mm? No, no... I'm just always so amazed by you, is all. I'll leave you to your music..."

Having thoroughly ruined the mood, the MC then turned to leave. But Lucifer was already upon them before they could step away, wrapping his arms around their waist and letting contented hum escape his chest.

"Going so soon…?"

Apparently he appreciated the compliment.

Mammon

He didn't have to do it.

When Belphie bumped into one of the House's vases, shattering it against the tile, he didn’t have to take the fall for it.

It wasn’t connected to him at all. He could have stayed quiet and no one would have pointed a finger at him for once.

But he did.

When Mammon set his phone down on the table, MC knew instantly that he had lied in the chat.

He was with them the entire day, he didn't have the time to accidentally break a vase. He hadn't even gone down that hallway all day...

But he said something anyway.

And he didn't even look fazed. He didn't turn towards them seeking approval nor did he look irritated that Belphie didn't speak up. He didn't curse at himself for doing something so self-sacrificing either...

When Mammon leaned back into the cushion of his couch, the MC saw something truly remarkable on his face… A smile. A small one, sure, but relaxed…

Assured in his own actions. Confident in his choice and accepting the consequences… undeserved, and likely thankless, they may be.

A genuine, serene smile…

Mammon wasn't sure what he expected to see when he turned to the MC. Probably confusion or disbelief that he, the Great Mammon, could be so selfless.

Definitely not the awed, lovestruck look he got...

"G-gah!" He panicked slightly and pressed himself back against the armrest of the couch in shock. "Wh-... What'cha lookin at me like that for??"

When the MC didn't answer after a few seconds and just kept staring, he honestly didn't know what to do. Were they broken or something??

"Oi, MC! I asked ya wh-Hey wait a minute!!"

He made a noise between a yelp and a shout when the MC leapt forward and latched their arms onto him. What had gotten into them??

"U-uh… MC? MC?? Damnit MC, answer me already!! Or at least stop squeezin so tight!!... MC!!!"

Leviathan

To anyone else, it was just Levi being Levi.

He had finished a new episode of his latest animated obsession and he had to share it with someone. Anyone would do, but the MC was always willing to lend an ear.

Something about Levi really changes when he talks about his passions… It's like he comes alive in a whole new way.

He speaks at a mile-a-minute, but that's because he's so excited the words fly from his mouth.

Some part of him is always bouncing, be it his leg or body. Sometimes even his tail will swish and curl behind him like an ecstatic puppy. And his eyes…

Citrine pools that glimmer and dilate from the exhilaration of it all. It's his little world and anyone can see he's thrilled to be sharing it.

You'd never know he was shy. You'd never think he'd look down himself. You'd never guess that he hid himself away… Why would someone so full of passion and life ever want to? Some things are just too beautiful to keep hidden...

Levi had only gotten six minutes into his latest rant before he finally registered how the MC was staring at him…

This man has seen enough shoujo to know what that look means and it shut him up sooo quick. If anyone else were in the room they would have seen a beet-red Levi desperately trying to hide his face.

"M-MC…! S-top staring at me like that…!!"

"Like what~?"

He didn't have to look at them to hear the teasing lilt in their voice.

"MC…" He peeked out from behind his fingers to see them still staring and covered himself up more vigorously. "Stoooop…!!!"

But secretly? He wished they'd never stop. His cheeks may have been red from embarrassment, but his heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest to hug them itself. Hell, he'd have happily given it over to them if they'd asked…

Please just let those loving eyes be for him and him alone...

Satan

Soft isn't exactly a word anybody would use to describe Satan, least of all himself.

His anger was quick to spark, his strength was nothing to scoff at, and even his smiles were nothing but plastic for nearly all of his existence…

Nearly.

The MC learned surprisingly quick that there was one thing that could bypass all of the hidden ferocity to Satan's personality. Something that could make him melt like butter in the summer sun…

Satan had always looked a little cute when he was reading. He was easily at his most expressive when engrossed in a thrilling story or deeply intrigued by something he found between the pages of a book…

But watching Satan read about cats, as he was right then, was really something else entirely.

Maybe it was the way his emerald eyes would sparkle or the lopsided grin he just couldn't hide as he would scan the pages about the playful habits of Bengals or the relaxed nature of Ragdolls…

Maybe it was the sheer impassioned dedication he took the subject, pouring countless hours into collecting and memorizing every fact he could from their diets to coat maintenance.

Or maybe it was the sheer fact that anytime he saw a picture of kitty in-print he looked like a besotted schoolgirl drawing hearts around her crush in a teen magazine.

Really, who's to say? But to the MC, it was proof that under all that anger, there was a tender, loving center even for the smallest, softest creatures…

Satan automatically snapped his book closed when he saw MC watching him from behind a bookshelves. Caught red-handed…

He knows exactly how he looks when he's doing his research internally squealing over cat pictures so he tries to do so in private...

He was about to sputter out a defensive explanation but then he registered their face…

He'd seen that look described in stories, romance novels mostly, but he'd rarely seen it in action… and never once leveled at him with such intensity…

Not to be cliche, but frankly his heart skipped a beat.

Satan forgot about his book briefly and got up to close the distance between them, tilting their chin up to keep their eyes on him.

"Like something that you see, Kitten?"

"You could say that…"

He laughed at their attempt to play coy, but let it slide just this once… Easy to do with them looking at him so amorously.

Asmodeus

Asmo is a very popular demon. Someone so free ought to know quite a lot of people, after all.

And, of course, he had plenty of fans. He made DevilTube videos, hosted radio shows, fashion designed, and even modeled.

So it wasn't very surprising when a young demoness stopped him while he and the MC were out shopping. It wasn’t the first time he had been asked to sign autographs, but this meeting… it was different.

It was clear to them both that this girl was shy. Though she held out the paper, her eyes stayed firmly on the ground and she stumbled on her question… She likely a fan from afar, but everything about her seemed meek… unassuming.

Most people would have just gave the autograph then went on with their day. The interaction could have taken five seconds at most… but not Asmo.

He asked her name… where she was from, how she was feeling, her favorite foods, outfits, makeup, you name it. All with investment.

It was amazing to watch the shy young woman slowly open up, getting more bright and cheerful with each passing question until it evolved into a healthy conversation.

When their little meeting finally wrapped up, he gave her back the paper (now signed) but also fished out a bottle of perfume from among the mountains of bags he was carrying. He gave it to her and wouldn't hear anything to the contrary, he could always buy another.

None of his brothers ever gave Asmo enough credit for his giving nature… even if he had his own way of going about it. Though he cared so much about image and his ability to shine, he never hesitated to make sure that the people around him shined too...

Asmo waved to the fan as she scampered away and was about to apologize to the MC when he saw their face…

The man knows this look well. He's seen it a billion times, though it was particularly cute coming from them.

"Awww MC! Taken by my beauty are you~?"

He was about ready to kiss their cheek when they responded.

"No, not your looks, Asmo… with you."

… Oh.

It was very rare to see Asmo speechless, but for a few seconds his mind seemed to take in their words… letting them fully sink in before his heart utterly melting.

Oh MC… His sweet MC!!

Asmo ended up dropping the rest of his bags just so he could properly litter his human in nuzzles and kisses, the both of them humming and giggling in delight despite their shameless PDA.

Of course it would be his MC to see that part in himself… Who else would take the time?

Beelzebub

Food is a precious resource to Beel. For him, it's a lifeline. A good meal could save him from the brink of starvation…

But that still doesn't make him incapable of sharing from time to time.

He and the MC were walking back to the House after getting takeout from Hell's Kitchen. Beel hadn't even waited until they left the restaurant to start eating his share, spilling the smell of fresh food into the air around them…

Things were going fine on their route back until they heard whimpering behind them…

A hellhound puppy, not quite old enough to bear its fangs, seemingly followed them as they were walking… It looked like it had been out for some time and eyed their food with hungry eyes, but weak posture. Who knows when it last had a meal?

The MC was about to tug at Beel's sleeve and say something, but their demon was ahead of them this time.

A casual observer might have gawked at the sight of Gluttony kneeling down to offer such a lowly creature a sandwich. But the MC knew better. When you spend your whole life hungry, nobody more than you understands that kind of pain in someone else.

This reaction wasn't out of character for Beel, it was elementary.

And when the puppy finished its meal and covered Beel's cheeks with appreciative licks, he just laughed and scratched behind its ears. Amethyst eyes looking more relieved at its health than disappointed he lost some of his lunch...

Food was Beel's lifeline, but kindness is what made him who he was…

When the pup finally scampered off, Beel looked over at the MC to tell them it'd be alright and saw their face…

He wasn't really sure what they were staring at… Did he have something between his teeth again?

"MC? Are you okay...?"

They laughed at him for some reason but pulled him in for a hug so they must have meant well.

"You're so sweet, Beel…"

Beel's never one to refuse a compliment so he just hugged them back, beaming.

"Thank you, MC…"

Belphegor

To say that Belphegor tended to be on the melancholic side would be an understatement… It wasn’t that he was incapable of expressing joy, it was just harder for him to do than most. Not helped, of course, by his tendency to keep his true feelings vague and hard to pinpoint.

But on those rare occasions where he was overjoyed… Belphie could really be something special…

The MC and Belphie were attending one of Beel's games and it was a tight one… Both teams had spent most of it tied and Beel's team was running out of time to overtake that slim margin.

Belphie had always been a supporter of his twin's athletics, but this time it was tense even for him. He kept on the edge of his seat and didn't even nod off during the breaks like he normally would… The MC could just tell how nervous he was for Beel…

But right as the time was about to run out, Beel made a last minute score and sure, the whole field erupted, but Belphie? Belphie hollered.

The normally sleepy and mellow demon was on his feet in an instant and practically shredding his vocal chords in excitement. If his tail had been out, it would have been beating against the bleachers like a war-drum. And his expression?

Belphie's smile is said to stop hearts for a reason. When he puts his all into a grin it's almost like he ascends to Heaven once more, as pure as an angel's choir and as warm as a summer's breeze… Nothing in his eyes but pride and adoration for his beloved twin brother.

Truly, a heartwarming sight to behold…

Belphie didn't calm down until the rest of the crowd settled and was about to point out Beel's skill to the MC when he noticed their face.

… oh no… Why do they look so sappy…?

"You really love your brother, don't you?"

Belphie quickly hid his thoughts behind an irritated frown and plopped back down in his seat… but that didn't shield them from seeing his pink cheeks.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?"

He debated just joining Beel on the field to hide his embarrassment when he heard them snicker back.

"Yeah, you're right… Don't mind me."

Oh he minded. He minded a lot that he let his carefully veiled image slip like that. But thinking back to that smile on their face…?

Maybe being a little open wasn't so bad after all...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me scenarios

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thebadgerclan · 3 years

Text

Twice the Fun

Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: Severus’ new potion gives twice the fun...

Smut!

A/N: It was kinda hard to get the cloning potion aspect right, so I hope it’s not too confusing

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” you asked, warily eyeing the vial in your husband’s hand. “I am,” he replied, stepping closer to you. “I’ve tested it extensively, and it’s completely safe. And if you decide you don’t want to continue, I have the antidote right here.” Severus had perfected a cloning potion that would make an exact duplicate of the drinker. He claimed that the clone would have complete sentience, looking and acting like a mirror image.

After a moment, you nodded, and Severus smiled. “I’ll make you feel so good, darling. Or should I say, we will?” You scoffed at the bad joke, but sighed when Severus pressed his lips to yours. You melted in his arms, arousal building steadily in your belly. The prospect of having two of your husband fucking you was insanely arousing, and already, your pussy was dripping. Severus broke the kiss, and an instant later, there were two sets of lips on you.

It was the oddest thing Severus had ever experienced. He was still himself; he still felt his body, still felt you in his arms, still saw you with his own eyes, but at the same time, he was standing behind you. He saw himself kissing you, he felt himself standing behind you, and he felt his cock throbbing, both on his own body and on the clone’s. In a word: it felt indescribable. It was as if his mind was split in two: one half in his true body, the other in the clone’s.

The desire for the clone to move forward hadn’t even formed when he did, pressing his lips to your neck. You gasped, turning in Severus’s, the real Severus, arms to look behind you. “Merlin, this is weird,” you whispered, but you couldn’t deny the need you felt. “Is this alright?” Severus asked, and you nodded. “More than alright,” you replied, and experimentally, you turned and pressed a kiss to clone-Severus’ lips. It felt like a phantom sensation, like you were breathing over Severus’ lips. Clone-Severus put his hands on your hips, and Severus felt the ghost of the warmth of your skin on his palms.

“Shall we move to the bed?” Severus asked, and you nodded. “Yes, please.” Severus hummed, taking your hand and leading you to the bed, sitting against the headboard, opening his arms to you. Clone-Severus followed suit, sitting at your side when you sat in Severus’ lap. His will influenced the clone’s actions, hardly requiring a thought on Severus’ part. “What do you want, my love?” Severus asked, kissing you again. Clone-Severus came to sit directly behind you, trailing his hands over your bare skin. The two of you had stripped bare before Severus had taken the potion, which left the clone naked as well.

“I want both of you,” you said, already breathless. “I want both cocks inside of me.” Both Severus and Clone-Severus moaned, which made you moan. “Alright, sweetheart. But which of us do you want in your tight little cunt?” “You, Sev,” you replied, but realized that might be a bit vague. “The real you” “Of course, darling.” Severus maneuvered you so you were lying in his lap sideways, head near his left shoulder. Clone-Severus moved from the bed, digging through the bedside table and pulling out the lubricant. “Tell me stop and I will,” Severus said, and you nodded. “I will, I promise.”

Then Severus’ lips were on yours, and oh Merlin, Clone-Severus’ lips were on your cunt, licking and sucking, tongue flicking your clit. A slicked finger prodded at your ass, and you tensed a bit before relaxing, letting the digit in. Clone-Severus’ ministrations not only served to relax you and allow him to prep you, but combined with Severus’ lips on yours, it also was drawing you closer and closer to the edge. “Sev,” you moaned, Severus’ hands on your face, your neck, your breasts, everywhere.

“Yes, sweetheart?” “I can do another.” Clone-Severus reacted at once pushing a second finger into you alongside the first. You arched you back, moaning against Severus’ lips. “Merlin, you’re beautiful,” Severus said. “Letting me fuck both your pretty holes.” A third finger entered you, and you cried out. Clone-Severus sucked hard on your clit, and that pushed you over the edge, rolling your hips as you came, moaning against Severus’ lips.

“Are you ready, darling?” your husband asked, stroking your side. “Yes, Sev, please!” Clone-Severus slowly retracted his fingers, casting a cleaning charm on them. Both Severus and Clone-Severus positioned you how they wanted you; facing Severus, straddling his hips, with Clone-Severus sitting behind you, his legs framing yours. “Alright,” Severus said, holding your hips, while Clone-Severus did the same. “We’ll take your ass first.”

Clone-Severus took his cock in hand, hissing at the contact, and lined himself up at your rear entrance. “Easy now, love,” he said, the first words he’d spoken, and you nodded, slowly and gently lowering yourself down. Your body resisted, but after a moment, he entered you, making your eyes go wide and a moan leave your mouth. “Alright?” Severus asked, and you nodded. “Y-yeah,” you said, tentatively bouncing your hips, letting yourself adjust to the feeling of being filled in such a way.

Severus felt just a fraction of Clone-Severus’ pleasure, nowhere near enough to truly stimulate him, but enough to tease. A few minutes later, you grabbed at Severus’ shoulder, slowing your hips. “I need you, please Sev!” Severus cooed, pressing a deep kiss to your lips. “And you have me,” he said, lining himself up with your soaked pussy. He thrust up into you, making you scream with pleasure. Severus could feel his clone’s cock inside you, and he moaned, as did the clone.

The room was filled with the sound of three moans, the slight creaking of the bed. You’d never felt so full, so completely and utterly full. The pleasure was otherworldly, Severus’ cock was ramming your g-spot with every thrust, Clone-Severus’ cock providing a delicious stretch that you knew would be the stuff of fantasy for the rest of your life. Clone-Severus attached his lips to your neck, sucking a mark onto the left side of your throat, while Severus sucked a mark onto the right.

Your head was fogged with lust and want, head lolling back onto Clone-Severus’ shoulder. Your legs were trembling from the strain of riding two cocks, and Severus gripped them and bounced your hips for you. After a moment, Clone-Severus did the same, bearing the entirety of your weight, doing all the work for you. Clone-Severus brought a hand around to rub your clit, and you moaned loudly, stars popping before your eyes.

You were moments away from coming, and you could only hope Severus was too. And as he always did, Severus sensed that you were close, and he bounced your hips faster. “I want you to come,” he rasped, close himself by the sound of it. “Come on my cock, come for me.” Clone-Severus moaned his assent, and you felt both cocks twitch within you. Only four bounces of your hips later, you were coming, twitching in their hold, moaning Severus’ name, his lips on yours. A moment later, he and Clone-Severus came in sync, both moaning guttaraly.

You felt their come inside you, and you sighed, leaning forward into Severus’ chest. Slowly, Clone-Severus pulled out of you, and you whined at the loss. Severus pulled out of you as well, settling you comfortably in his lap, kissing your forehead. He took the antidote from the nightstand, downing the vial. Clone-Severus winked out of existence like he never existed, and Severus turned his attention to you.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, flicking his wand and casting the cleaning and contraceptives. “Merlin’s fucking tits, that was fucking amazing.” Severus smiled, kissing you deeply. “Was it?” “Yeah. I never thought… just wow. Wow, Sev.” “I know, I feel the same. That was insanely sexy. Watching you bounce on my cock, shit.” You nodded, snuggling deeper into his embrace. “But I think I prefer having sex with just one of you.” Severus nodded, feeling the same deep down. “We’ll save it for special occasions, then. Twice the fun?” You laughed, nodding. “Twice the fun,” you agreed.

#severus snape x reader #severus snape x you #harry potter fanfiction #snape x reader #snape x you #harry potter reader insert

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teyvattherapist · 3 years

Note

Hi! Do you remember the headcanons of the god of fate request you had?

Can I request the same but with Kaeya, Venti and Childe.

Still male reader :)

This is a part two to this piece >God of Fate< So for more context, go check that one out first!

Thank you for the request, this whole idea comes somewhat easy to me, then I immediately get nervous it isn't what you want haha! Oh well! I hope you enjoy<3

Tags: m!reader/Kaeya, m!reader/Venti, m!reader/Tartaglia, Khaenri'ah spoilers, Kaeya spoilers, Tartaglia's real name, Venti's real name, God!Reader, angst if you squint, canon typical violence.

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Khaenri’ah wouldn’t have had any survivors if it hadn’t been for a particular man that seemed unfazed by the battlefield the once prosperous nation of humanity became. Neither Khaenri’ahn nor from Celestia, simply an outlander. Despite showing great fighting prowess and strategic skill, Khaenri’ah had still fallen under the watchful gaze of the man. Of course, this was just a legend, a small rumour only known by the most curious of historians or academics. And even then, it’s debated. With the legacy of Khaenri’ah long gone, all that was left was anecdotal evidence.

Kaeya Alberich

-His biological father told stories of a man dressed in the silk of the Gods that drew steel against steel in the war of Khaenri’ah.

-He didn’t really believe in that though, to him, it was just that. A story. Just a fairytale to explain what time had lost.

-Kaeya had almost completely forgotten these fairytales, his childhood a hazy blip he did his best to forget. But the oddest stranger arriving in Mondstadt made it hard to forget certain aspects of those stories.

Kaeya slid into the seat across from you, sliding a wine glass to you. You raise an eyebrow at the suddenness of the situation, eyes flicking to the glass of glorified grape product. “You’re new to Mondstadt right? I’m the Cavalry Captain, Kaeya, I’d be happy to show you around.” His voice was smooth, suave as if he were hiding something. You picked up the wine glass, sniffing the wine. Mortal food and drink always smelled so weird. Tasted weird too. Kaeya watched you with a curious eye and you hummed, setting the wine glass back down.

"Kaeya Alberich right? I knew your father."

"Master Cr-"

"The other one." You smile at him, sliding the wine glass back. "I don't drink this stuff. Thank you though." You pulled your sleeve up, checking one of the watches on your wrist. Kaeya seemed taken back and you wondered if you perhaps misjudged his ability to lie. He seemed to recover quickly enough, eye narrowing at you. "Do you have questions, Captain? Or may I return to my work?" Work. Yes. That was one way to describe the recording of history and fate itself. A job.

"So it is you. You're real." Kaeya dropped his voice as you picked your book back up. You give him a short nod and he sits back, processing the turn of events. Fascinating, how many people you've run into who know of you. A stark difference to the last time you had been in Teyvat, recording the fall of a nation. "Tell me why you're in Mondstadt." Kaeya dropped his pretense, much preferable to you. You merely shake your head, it isn't your place to discuss the fate of Teyvat and the endless routes that will lead to it.

Venti

-Much like Morax, Barbatos had fought you in the war. Unlike Morax, Barbatos didn’t let his surprise stop him. Barbatos recognised your divinity, but elected to ignore it in favour of drawing the bowstring back.

-What was more surprising was his arrow being deflected by something he hadn’t seen before, that was when he realised you weren’t a rogue from Celestia but an outlander from somewhere else entirely.

-That was years ago though, he didn’t talk about the war, and he wished desperately to forget it. Barbatos opted to up the persona of Venti the Bard instead, but upon his return to Mondstadt, his past would follow.

Venti’s eyes widened when he pushed the tavern door open, his eyes immediately drawn to one of the visible tables, the cavalry captain sitting with a strange and far too familiar man. Feeling eyes on you, you lifted your head, making eye contact with the teal eyed bard. Kaeya turned his head to look over his shoulder at the bard. Venti drew closer when Kaeya beckoned him to do so. You watched as the God of Freedom sat down beside the Khaenri'ahn captain. So many familiar faces indeed.

"Hello Bar-"

"Venti, actually. Long time no see."

"Venti, alright. Yes I believe the last we saw of each other you tried to kill me." You tapped your pen against the leather bound book on the table, a small smile on your face. "No hard feelings, of course. I had stepped out of line anyway." Your revelation surprised the God, the sight somewhat satisfying. Venti swallowed thickly, grabbing the abandoned wine glass, he downed the beverage. "Well fate waits for no one, I have to go." You stood with the book in hand. Venti watched you intently as you left the tavern, the bard gesturing to Charles for more wine.

"Have a bad history?"

"He deflected a flying arrow in the middle of a battlefield, he's terrifying." Venti shuddered, shaking his head. While his Geo counterpart may have been curious of the God's appearance in the warning letter he had sent to Venti. Venti was anything but curious. He didn't want to know why a God from a different world was once more patrolling the land of Teyvat. Especially now that his gnosis was gone, he didn't want to know what it meant or what it could possibly imply.

Tartaglia

-Tartaglia knew the Gods were around, he served one. But regarding Khaenri’ah or that cataclysm he wasn't entirely sure. His time in the Abyss was spent solely focused on surviving.

-He was never really in a position to learn about any of that, living life blissfully aware of worlds outside of his own.

-Then the Traveler showed up and he heard whispers of them being from beyond, then they were followed by a man in a cloak made of material he had never seen before.

-And well the Traveler was a good opponent, why not this other stranger?

You lifted your head, eyes curiously looking ahead. There was a rustling above you and you slipped off the rock just as an arrow hit where you had been sitting. A tall ginger jumped from the tree, drawing his bowstring back once more. You clicked your pen, the item turning into a sword that was then used to skillfully cut the flying arrow in half. "Your form is sloppy.." You sighed, flipping the sword in your hand as he readied another arrow. "I'm not going to fight a human, is there something you need or are you just suicidal?" Another arrow flew by your head, embedding itself into a nearby tree.

Your words seemed to dawn on Tartaglia who lowered his bow slightly. "Human? You're a God? That'll just make this win more rewarding!" The ginger readied his bow once more. You just wanted to take a nice rest in the Snezhnayan forest, but of course it wouldn't be that easy. Before he could knock another arrow something invisible wrapped around his wrists, tightening until he had no choice but to drop his weapon into the snow. When the occasional ray of sun hit the clearing they were in, the invisible thread around his wrists shimmered an ethereal gold.

"I'm just.. a keeper of records. There are more enjoyable Gods to fight. Now if you don't mind." You flicked your wrist and the ginger was brought to his knees much to his chagrin at the turn of events. Your pen returned and you tucked it securely into your pocket. For a moment you just stared at him and he stared back, dull blue eyes boring into your very soul, or perhaps lack of. "Well. Nice meeting you in person, Ajax. You should keep up the work on the anger issues." You turned to leave, listening to him struggle against the binds.

"How do you know my name?"

Oops.

"I know everything and nothing!" You wave over your shoulder, snow crunching underfoot as you leave him in the clearing alone. Tartaglia watched your retreating form until he couldn't see you anymore. And it was then that the invisible threads retracted, allowing him to gather his weapon and give his wrists a quick rub to ease the sudden stiffness.

In your multiple times to Teyvat, it would always be the world that proved most in need of intervention. Though that wasn't part of your job description, you couldn't help it. Even the sky above warned of the brewing storm that would take the continent by storm. Most recently it had been the Cataclysm, this time? You weren't sure which way Teyvat would lean. Too many possibilities, too many options, and none were yours to make.

#Kaeya x reader #Venti x reader #Tartaglia x reader #Childe x reader #m!reader #asks #Anonymous #Lane Writes #Kaeya Alberich #Tartaglia #Venti #Genshin Impact #Genshin Impact x reader #i suck at tags help #kept the intro from the last one since its just easiest #God of Fate

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mitamicah · 3 years

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Spoilers from both Trollhunters the book and Trollhunters the series!

While reading the book I was really impressed with how many differences there were between the character so I have worked on giving my take on six characters from both media, book vs series, and how they differ from each other :3

I should mention that while there was illustrations in the book I tried for the challenge not to copy those but follow along the describtions in the book - when possible - to give my own interpretation of the characters ^v^

Steve

First up we have Steve. Starting out as the stereotypical bully in both version their paths seperates quickly resulting in two different ending for the musuclar blond Jorgensen-Warner is the book version of Steve. Here's how he is described from our first encounter with him: "He was handsome but in the oddest way- He eyes were too small and his nose piggish: he had a ridiculous amount of hair and a couple of teeth that looked like fangs. Yet somehow in combination these features were sort of mesmerising. His unnatural muscular bulk and odd way of speaking -crisply, politely, as if he were a foreign student who had learned English in class - completed the strange package." page 21-22 For his outfit I went with the description of him on page 224 "[my clothes] ... didn't cast me in the best light when compared to Steve Jorgensen-Warner, who looked rather rakish in blue jeans and a shirt - definitely not a blouse - opened to the third button. He dribbled the ball casually with his left hand." The bold passages is added by me This Steve is later revealed to be a changeling aka a troll Before we go on: can any of you explain to me what a "ridiculous amount of hair" even means :'D? I had a lot of trouble with this prompt because isn't this so darn subjective :'D? and the official art look way less ridiculous than I'd figure it'll be :'D x'D Palchuk is the series version of Steve. His facial appearance being way less specific (I'd say he has normal sized eyes, a big roman nose and some more or less normal teeth) and his way of speaking is definitely not polite. Like book Steve, this Steve starts out with pushing smaller guys into lockerrooms yet after that he becomes way less of a terrifying bully and much more of a silly goose who brings a lot of the comic relief in my opinion Douxie says it best in Wizards when he calls Steve the "village idiot" x'D I do not recall seeing Steve being that sporty in the show, he is much more interested in becoming homecoming king no basketballs around x'D While book Steve is revealed to be the enemy (a troll) series Steve joins the "good guys" creating the creepslayerz with the character Eli Pepperjack

Blinky

Blinky is just called Blinky in the book Here's a bit of description of him "The third [troll] had scarlet eyes, eight of them on long stems. (...) The thing from my house glided toward me with a surprising grace for something with an indetermined number of legs, all of which were hidden behind a patched kilt scaled with layers of medals, prizes and trophies and award ribbons. An incalculable tangle of tentacles twined around one another as if dying to squeese something to death. As it passed the oven, the firelight revealed olive-green skin, reptilian texture, and lacquer of slime lubricating its undulating appendages Its moth a horizontal gash.. " The bold passages is added by me So yeah this Blinky is quite something :'D I stopped caring to draw tentacles after a while but overall this was silly but fun to draw since his teeth later is described as big as traffic cones I believe he must be very tall :'D Also he's close to blind Has a bit of a dirty mouth but in a very "read" way if it makes sense :'D cannot seem to stop calling Jim dimwitted and tiny and Tobias big :'D Blinky's full name in the series is Blinkus Galadrigal he has six eyes instead of eight and they are all working just fine, thank you very much x'D His tons of tentacles and legs has been replaced by four arms and two legs and while he is still olive-green he is now made of tone like texture just like the other trolls the kilt turned into shorts and he is quite a bit smaller now not even as tall as Jim He still has this very academic way of speaking yet he is way nicer to Jim calling him "Master Jim" instead of "the short one" x'D

ARRRGH!!!

Book ARRGHHH!!!s full name is Johannah Mmmm ARRRGH!!! and she is a pretty big deal warrior among the trolls in the book - she's so badass in fact Blinky has decided to call her by her last name to honor her for her deeds for trollkind Here's a qoute from the book describing her appearance "The goliath emerged from the tunnel as comfortably as a dog from a doghouse, coarse black fur pouring into the chamber before I could make out any actual arms or legs (...) Even beneath the fur I could see loops of muscles flexing. (...) ARRRGH!!! was built like a gorilla but three times larger: Two arms, two legs, and, thankfully, just two eyes. Horns, curled like those of a ram (...) The thing's orange eyes cast about with animal perceptiveness, and it used its snout and sniffed. Its jaws fell open to reveal a purple, slavering mouth armed with haphazard daggers of teeth." Page 75-76 The bold passages is added by me (Also worth mentioning: the qoute is from before the protagonist knows of ARRRGH!!!'s gender which is why he calls her an 'it') At other times in the story we learn that ARRRGH! has quite scarred arms and really wishes for better tooth hygeine; so much so that Tobias actually end up making her a brace out of chicken wire :'D Idk I find it quite adorable :'D Now unto the serie's ARRRGH!!! - first up he is male, his name is Arghaumont and he is famous for another reason than Johannah: he was a general of Gunmar but retreated from the war making him a traitor to his people yet a hero for the good trolls in the series. Series ARRRGH!!! is likewise built like a gorilla but made of stone and having a mane long and green like it is moss his horns is way smaller and less curvy and his teeth hygeine is never brought up also his face is way less dog like x'D

Tobias

Book Tobias' full name is Tobias M. Dershowitz yet he is going by 'Tubby' or 'Tub'. Here is a describtion of him from the book: "You could call Tobias Dershowitz chubby, if you were being cute, or husky if you were being diplomatic. The fact is he was fat, and that was only the beginning of his problems. His hair was a thick, orange, out-of-control hedge. His face spilled over with the kind of freckles that make kids like Tub look like overgrown toddlers. Worst of all were his braces, marvels of modern torment: whips of stainless steel crisscrossing each tooth seperately and lashed to a dozen silver fasteners. The braces clicked so much when he spoke, you expected sparks. At least he was tall..." page 27 The bold passages is added by me The outfit I went with is described on page 259 like this: "He stood in the driveway decked out in his best approximation of a ninja: black tennis shoes, black sweatpants, a black hoodie, a belt made from a red curtain sash, and an oversize fanny pack holding his gear (...) It was unfortunate that the fanny pack was lime green..." To describe Tub is a bit difficult because sadly he is not much in the story as I'd liked - mostly he is being quite serious and let us know he is not happy by being sidelined not speaking troll nor being invited on hunts which I completely understand tbh :'D What I do find interesting is how Tub and series Jim has seem to have switched roles a little bit: In the series Jim is the one giving a speech about how he is insecure about his place in life and how he wants more - in the book this is Tub in more than one occassion: "We have to accept who we are. And before you ask, I'll tell you. We're nobody. We have no life. We have nothing to look forward to. We're not special. I just want it to go away. All of it. The stupid being scared. Doesn't it seem we've been scared forever?" page 37 "Jim, you're wrong. We were meant to do this. This is exactly what we've been waiting for. They've chosen us. Of all people! Us! (...) Jesus, Jim, take a look at my life! You know what I'm worth! To anyone? Zero! Nothing! I'm a fat loser and will always be a fat loser. Until this. This is like a present. Full of, man, I don't know. Hope?..." page 196 (talking about trollhunting here btw) Oh yeah and book Tobias gets this badass scene where he uses his dentist's tool to kill trolls I loved that Now series Tobias is way different :'D first up his name is Tobias Domzalski and his nicknames are Toby and Tobes. He is way shorter and has more neat hair (what is it with the series neating up the hair :'D? x'D). He also seems way cheerier and pretty happy with his place in life more or less Unlike Tub, Toby is in it from the start being an important player in the story He doesn't have the same drive to be something more than he is as Tub has instead Toby is going with the flow starting out quite afraid of everything troll and ended up being as brave as the rest of the team *tbh Jim's scared out of his wits too so they mimic each other x'D* Where Tub has dentist tools Toby gets a badass hammer so I'll say its an upgrade

Claire

First off we have Claire Fontaine, a foreign student from no other than Scotland with a taste for military clothing and liqourice Here's how she's described in the book "She tucked her long dark hair behind her ear and left ir with an adorable smudge of white dust. I thought she was beautiful, though she wasn't in the classic sense. The popular girl would say she wasn't skinny enough. They would also point to the fact that she didn't wear makeup or do anything to tame that hair. And her clothes -well, what could be said about her clothes? Her boots were not sexy and knee-high: in fact, they were ankle-high and rubber-soled and looked picked from military surplus racks, an array of pea-green coats and multi-coloured slacks, all of which looked as if they'd been through actual World War II combat. And that beret she wore before and after school wasn't of the look-at-me-I'm Frensh variety: it was more in the style of I'm-going-to-invade-your-country-and-be-your-new-dictator. Only one thing didn't make sense: that bright pink, exceedingly girlish backpack that inexplicably hadn't one anti-establidh patch sewn onto it (...) Oh, I forgot to mention that Claire Fontain came from the UK. That's right- the girl had an accent. I think you are starting to get the picture." page 30-1 The bold passages is added by me It is hinted at that Claire is quite tall and a great deal taller than Jim (more when I get to him) and she is actually a whole year older than Jim since they both have birthday May 2 but Claire is 16 while Jim is 15 Since Trollhunters in this story is not a "protected title" (aka the chosen hero type) Claire ends up being one herself even though nobody even herself didn't know: AND. SHE. KICKS. BUTT! She's even better than the guy that had 40+ years experience so yeah safe to say she's badass :'D Even before that she has a hilarious scene calling out Steve in the wildest shitstorm of Scottish slang I lived for it x'D She's described quite a few times with lots of bracelets, sometimes made of wire so I gave her a bit of both She's not really a part of the popular group but has her own thing going on Now onto Claire Nuñez the series' version of this badass Here Claire is hispanic and pretty much one of the most popular girls seen around her style is way more ... I've called it punk rock in purple but Idk exactly what to call it x'D she's shorter than Jim and slimmer looking than her book counterpart She enters the story not as a trollhunter but as a victim of having her brother stolen by changelings and as time progresses she becomes a fastlearning and quite competent sorcerer dealing in shadow magic Unlike Fontaine, Nuñes is seen wearing make up, shorter hair with dye in it and hair clips instead of bracelets

Jim

First up we have book Jim. His full name is James Sturges Jr. and lives with his single parent, his dad, after his mother went away the day before his birthday in start May and never returned. Sturges Sr. had been traumatized loosing his brother to trolls although none of the characters didn't know this yet - only Senior had seen the creatures making him paranoid and in turn making Jim very embarrased about his father. At the same time Jim seems to honestly worry for his father and his behavior too makes Jim very cautious and fearful a character. Book Jim is pretty much a typical teenager for the most part He is seen to be a tad clumsy and not exactly brave really. And the author's choice of basically not describing him anywhere made my job way harder trying to be book accurate :'D So I've mostly inspired him of the official illustrations in the book Here's what I could find about our little trollhunter First off: he's a short fellow that is first mentioned on page 14; "Sunshine is important for growing boys." (...) "I am not growing" I took after my dad when it came to size and was still waiting for that growth spurt everyone kept raving about. "In fact I think I'm shrinking." This is brought up most of everything Jim through the movie from him not being able to reach a point of a chalkboard (page 32) to people's dissapointing sighs taking meassurements when he is chosen as Romeo (107) and him wearing super high heels for the same reason (224) but also Blinky directly calling him a "little fellow" (page 127) On page 27 we learn that he is getting a bruise on his chin after being slammed into his locker by Steve Lockers he has been thrown into enough to have learned to open them on the inside :'D He is a skinny fella which Tobias so politely call "lack of muscletone" due to "glandular" at page 120 He is not very good at anything describing his room full of stuff from hobbies he tried and failed at (page 63) The longest describtion about his appearance is probably page 105: "I lowered my eyes and regarded the chewed, dirty fingernails holding my script, thes scuffed shoes on my feet, and realized that these were the symbols of my pityful life: worn-out, insignificant, ready to be thrown beneath Dad's industrial mower" It pretty much says it all when this is the longest quite I could find :'D For the outfit I mostly went by the small describtion on page 89-90: "I tucked the medallion beneath my shirt. After a full day of wearing it, maybe the rest of the suffocating fear would go away too. My plan was to dart into the kitchen, grab my sweatshirt and be out of the house. " I added jeans since he is said to wear jeans on page 283 - the medallion sneak out beneath the sweatshirt/shirt on page 97 which is why I added it on top here as well Now since there's a bit more to both versions of Jim due to their role as the protagonist I've added in a little extra features here being the medallion in the book vs the amulet in the series and the weaponry given to the characters For Sturges we have the medallion who's described like this: "It was a bronze medallion conntected to a rusty chain. It was engraved with a foreboding crest: a hideous, snarling face; indecipherable markings of a sevage language, and a magnificent long-sword across the bottom." page 9 The medallion is treated like it is a common artefact if a bit rare in the book - its purpose is to translate trollspeak for the wearer. Jim is giving two swords in the book; a rusty longsword he calls Clairesword (do I need to explain this one?) and a cutlass he calls Cat #6 after the one cat at Tobias' house that liked Jim x'D For Sturges' personality my feeling about him is that he is a bit more ... passive than his series counterpart. He is not really standing up for himself that much and would rather blend into the background. This qoute from Claire sums him up pretty nicely I believe "You're a good person, Mr. Sturges. A bit gloomy, but good" page 246 I do like that Jim in this version is a Taurus (I am a taurus too x'D) born on May 2nd so that's a plus It is probably also worth mentioning that in this world trollhunters aren't a chosen hero type like in the series: trollhunters or paladin was once a title held by many warriors yet now there's very few left. Sturges was a proud paladin family making Jim a chosen candidate for the honor of becoming a trollhunter but he is not the only one - or even the best - in the book. In fact out of the three trollhunters we learn about I'll say Jim is the weakest (and he is not even the least trained; ouch :'D) Jim doesn't get a nice armour like his series counterpart either but is seen in the illustrations wearing a blue hoodie (like the one in the little doodle) The full name of Jim in the series is James Lake Jr. He is the child of a single parent and lives with his mother whom Jim "mothers a lot" (Tobias' words in the first episode) This Jim is pretty "tall for his age" (Jim's own words uttered quite a few times across all three series) yet with quite skinny legs (he is called out for this by multiple characters). He is much more competent in life than his book counterpart being an exceptional cook, good at Spanish, seemingly alright in PE and at school he seems to stand pretty good if only holding himself back. Unlike book Jim, series Jim seems much more active and longing to be something more than he is - he is seen to be quite brave and protective of his friends, very kind and selfless. Also even from the start he seems much more nimble than his book counterpart being able to climb the robe (a feat book Jim didn't do before later) and with his training as trollhunter he becomes even more badass Trollhunter status in the series is way more important since the title is given to only one chosen warrior of Merlin chosen by the amulet of daylight (the medallion in the book). This also makes the amulet way more special and important in the series which probably explains its shine up from rusty bronze thing to silver and blue. While Lake Jr doesn't have named sword he does have a magical armour and sword made of daylight We do not know the exact birthday of Lake Jr but the creators have replied to a fanquestion saying it would be around fall especially October so by that estimate Jim is probably a scorpio pretty far from the before mentioned taurus in the book While Jim Lake Jr isn't seen with long lasting bruises in the original series he does get two more permanent scars in Wizards

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fluri-above-all · 3 years

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ToV Rarepair Drabble - Scars

One of the oneshot prompts I've seen lately was about scars. And I've been wanting to write Harry x Ioder again ever since @nagia36 brought up one of my old drabbles...Harry doesn't really get the attention he deserves so I wrote this to make it up to him.

Warning for suggestive themes.

Scars

Harry’s body held scars.

The first was across the bridge of his nose and honestly…he couldn’t remember how it happened. Yeager had told him once it was from crying so much while he was a baby that the tears created the cut turned scar as they fell. This had prompted further crying from the very young blonde.

His grandfather later pat him on the head (and whacked Yeager upside his) and proceeded to tell him even he did not know how Harry got it. When Garry's family was driven out of their hometown, he’d reunited with Harry and his mother and the mark had already marred his unconscious face. His mother had had a mental breakdown and disappeared one night, taking the secret with her. With his memories of that day unknown and lost to him, Harry eventually came to simply accept the scar as one of the earliest parts of himself. It was his “favorite” if he had to pick one.

There were also scars that were not his favorite. They adorned his back, parts of his chest and even the side of his neck. These were from skirmishes, battles and attacks on his life. The ones on his chest weren’t visible with his clothes on, even with his shirt barely covering his torso. The scar on his neck was small, from a younger part of his life when someone had foolishly tried to take him hostage. Their plan would have worked, had they not nicked Harry in the neck and set the guilds into frenzy. It was one of the few times he had ever seen his grandfather look truly angry, “seeing red” is what he’d later come to recognize it as.

Since that day no one has tried to kidnap or capture the young man. That incident was probably why….

It could also be from the size Harry had grown during his years of rebuilding himself as well...but he liked to think the terrors of Altosk had spooked his assailants away.

One of the scars on his back was up by his shoulder, where the tusk of a large monster had snagged him from behind and pinned him to the ground. Harry winces even now just thinking about that particular instance.

The oddest scar of all – In Harry’s opinion anyway – was on his ankle. A blood-thirsty group of bandits had attempted – very poorly – to attack the still inexperienced Don on his trip through the desert. One of the bandits speared him in the ankle with a harpoon gun, the retraction dragged Harry several feet before Raven and the other members of Altosk dispatched the group. When the weather gets cold, he can feel the irritation in his foot from the long scarred over wound. It was his “least favorite” if he had to pick.

Still, the young Don of 23 years took pride in his scars. They were symbols depicting an exciting (and often dangerous) life, proof that through all he had endured, he was strong. And more importantly, he was still here. He'd been stabbed in the back, attacked head on, pulled against his will, and yet, he was still standing tall.

Harry had never been particularly close with death; none of the wounds engraved on his body were life-threatening. If anything, people would say he had Lady Luck on his side. He'd scoff at that, being a man who believed in carving his own path and not fate…

Still...

That didn’t mean he was itching to meet his maker enough to test it. As reckless as he could be he had no desire to push the limits of his life. It was something precious that had been fought for and sacrificed his whole life. And through those scars, he knew they were signs that represented those who had lost their life for him…It meant their sacrifice was not in vain. He would continue to fight. No matter what it took.

It was his relentless and unwavering ability to never back down that made Ioder worry – he knew that.

The first time they had made love he’d hesitated to show himself to the other blonde. Harry wondered if the young Emperor would find him grotesque with his marred skin, a dark contrast to Ioder’s pale perfection. But Ioder said nothing about them, even kissed the one across his collarbone.

Harry didn’t want to admit it, but the tender intimacy made his pulse quicken and his body waver slightly.

Who knew a person’s bitter scars could elicit such a sweet reaction? Certainly not Harry. He didn’t think his body could ever be so sensitive to another’s touch, especially with his scars.

It was yet another surprise that kept Harry wrapped around the Emperor’s finger – contrary to everyone’s opinion of Ioder being swept away by Harry. It was another surprise and a secret Harry wanted to keep to himself.

But Ioder had ways of figuring him out.

And he was always so damn sneaky about it too...

The day was innocent enough (as always), Ioder was signing off paperwork at his desk and Harry was lying on the nearby couch. He'd come unannounced so Ioder had insisted Harry be patient and wait for him to finish. It was fairly hot outside, so even with the window open, save for the occasional breeze, it was almost unbearable.

Except Ioder appeared perfectly fine.

And for some reason, that irritated Harry. The Emperor wore considerably more when it came to his attire and not only that, the material was bulkier as well.

“Aren’t you hot?!” Harry cried out, unable to take the heat of the room any longer. Just looking at Ioder made him sweat. The sudden sound of Harry’s voice must have startled Ioder, because he had blinked several times in shocked confusion.

“Ah forget it, you’re not even paying attention are you…” Harry accused, knowing Ioder had a way of tuning everything out once ensconced in his work.

“Don’t apologize either.” He added as he saw the gears turning in Ioder’s head. The Emperor likely realized he was not being the best of hosts at the moment. Stretching his arms above his head, Harry elicited a yawn and removed his vest. With the dark garment discarded, he already felt immensely better.

And while he was at it, he might as well make himself comfortable. Untucking his shirt, Harry’s hands moved to pull the shirt over his head –

“What are you doing?” Ioder questioned - eyes wide as he regarded the young Don mid shirt removal.

“I’m taking my shirt off.” Harry answered simply. He opened his mouth to question if there was a problem but then he had to briefly consider where he was.

Oh that’s right…people are worried about propriety here….

He lifted the shirt up and off anyways, dropping it on the couch next to him.

“Harry!” Ioder scolded, face a light shade of pink as he tried not to stare too intently.

“It’s hot.” Harry regarded with a shrug. “Besides….” He turned his head to the side, a suggestive look on his face. “It’s not anything you haven’t seen before.” Harry withheld the smirk threatening to burst forth at the way Ioder’s cheeks flushed before he looked away. The young Don chuckled to himself, smug with this victory. Ioder went back to work once his face returned to a normal shade, but Harry wasn’t making things easy for him.

Perhaps it was a low blow, distracting Ioder the way he was with his bare torso.

And the young Emperor was certainly distracted. He stole the occasional glance as Harry sat back to lounge on the couch once more, the Don feeling quite relieved with his skin exposed. With all the sun he’d soaked up recently, his skin had tanned considerably, especially the front of his chest where he showed most of his muscled chest.

Now Harry wasn’t a narcissist, but he couldn’t help but admit it was a pretty damn good look on him. Catching Ioder staring out the corner of his eye was all the confirmation that he needed. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Ioder’s pen as he wrote, a contented bliss took over him at how comfortable things had become with a few simple garments removed.

In fact, he almost drifted off to sleep.

Almost.

The sound of Ioder’s chair shuffling back switched his brain back into alertness. Maybe he was taking a break? Ioder sometimes scooted the chair back to get more room to stretch.

However he didn’t hear the groan come as it normally did when Ioder did this. Instead, he felt the presence of the young Emperor much closer to him than before. Harry opened his eyes to see what Ioder was up to when the other blonde was actually right in front of him.

“Iod-“

Harry tried to sit up to ask what was wrong when Ioder pushed Harry’s shoulders back against the couch, the Emperor lifting his legs to straddle him.

“It’s not nice to tease.” Ioder scolded, but it lacked the disciplinary bite it usually did when he was reprimanding the young Don. Instead it held a hint of mischief, with no short amount of lust.

Harry had to admit – Ioder lasted much longer than he thought he would. The Don’s arms wrapped around Ioder’s waist, drawing the other man closer. “You know I have every intention of following through…” he answered, voice low and suggestive.

He stretched up to kiss Ioder but Ioder leaned down instead, placing a soft kiss on the tiny scar on the side of his neck, warm hands lightly tracing the sensitive flesh across his once injured collarbone and chest. The sudden physical contact elicited a moan Harry hadn’t even realized he was holding in. Pliant lips rested against the young Don’s ear, warm breath causing Harry to shutter as Ioder spoke.

“Not if I don’t let you.”

The tanned blonde raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Ioder – Mr. Pacifist – able to subdue someone twice his size? He’s seen Ioder talk down people much stronger than him, but Harry? Did he really think he had an edge over him that would keep him submissive?

Ioder seemed to sense Harry’s apprehension and Harry could almost feel the smirk coming from behind his calm expression. “I notice things about you too Harry.” He kissed along Harry’s jaw, sending sparks down the Don’s spine. “I’d noticed this a while ago but…” Ioder trailed off as he kissed down the other blonde’s neck. Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, finding he didn’t much mind letting the young Emperor take the reins now and then.

“But?” Harry inquired, leaning his head back to allow Ioder better access.

Hands traveled down Harry’s sides to the dip of his hips, tracing gently over the scar along his hip bone. Harry’s eyes shot open as he bucked his waist up at Ioder’s touch, a soft gasp escaping his mouth.

“But you really like it when I touch your scars like that.”

If looks could kill….well…Harry could never kill Ioder, but he certainly wanted to upend him from his lap and wipe that smug expression off his face.

“I’ll touch them all you’d like later, so be patient and wait for me to finish my work so there won’t be any distractions. Okay?” Ioder asked, lips curled up in a sickeningly innocent smile. His actions betrayed that sweet smile however, as his fingers gently traced Harry’s chest.

“You say that…but you’re not stopping…” Harry pointed out.

Ioder’s smile turns into a bit of a smirk. “You don’t sound like you’re complaining….”

“Got nothing to complain about.” Harry smirks back, hands moving to Ioder’s waist. Before they can find purchase however, Ioder pulls back, sauntering off to his desk and leaving Harry slightly miffed.

He does take a small bit of satisfaction in the way Ioder squirms uncomfortably in his seat, face slightly flushed.

Good, he is affected by it…

Harry settles back onto the couch, heat long forgotten as he tries to calm down his hard-on.

How could he let such a weakness become apparent? And how could Ioder use it against him like that?

And why was he strangely alright with all of it?

Those would have to be answers for another time, but for now…

He settled for simply enjoying the way his scars buzzed from Ioder's lingering touch and the anticipation of things to come once Ioder finished his work.

#Harry x Ioder #Azali drabbles #Should have been sleeping but I really wanted to spoil Harry #Given all the crap he is dealing with in my separate universe #ToV Rarepair

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

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Hi! I am the anon who owes you two corgis! I LOVED THAT. You cannot dangle that in front of us and never expand. That’s cruel Molly. I think I speak for everyone when I say we will pay you in *many* imaginary corgis if you give do this for us. I know you don’t like regency maybe because you are worried abt historical accuracy? But just say screw it and write it anyway? I assure you most wont care and you write it perfectly. So plz put us out of misery and at least give one more Drabble? Pretty please 🥺

You get one more chapter Corgi Anon! One! Because my mind is a traitor and apparently loves flattery and praise!

Let's check in with Kate the next day

@xnwitchluna As requested

This is also on Ao3

He's not going to call. Kate hissed at herself for what must have been the hundredth time that morning. Men like Anthony Bridgerton do not call on young ladies just because they danced with them once. And besides, even if he did call, he wouldn't be calling on her.

She hadn't been surprised when Mr. Bridgerton's voice had called out to them, asking after Edwina. It had happened at least ten times in the short amount of time since they'd entered the ballroom after all. A young man came, made calf eyes at her sister and sometimes got a dance for his trouble. But, newly arrived in London though she was, even she had heard Mr. Bridgerton's reputation. The gossip sheets were brimming with his exploits, mistresses and widows, women falling at his feet whenever he looked at them. And Kate was not going to allow Edwina to fall victim to a man who was not serious about marriage.

Humiliating though it was, they both knew what their financial situation was, and while Mary wasn't going to be throwing them in the poor house any time soon, either she or Edwina needed to marry very well. They didn't have time to be led in a merry dance by a notorious rake and left, reputation ruined, at the close of the season. And so, Kate had taken it upon herself to wee out the unworthy from her sisters veritable gaggle of admirers and Mr. Bridgerton would be no exception.

He'd played his hand excellently, she could admit, he'd been all politeness and good cheer when he'd asked her to dance, surely hoping to curry her favour. And Kate wasn't too proud to admit there had been something awfully disarming about his wide, open smile, a sort of kindness she hadn't expected from a man of his repute. Then there was the way his eyes had shined at her in the candlelight, and his hand had been like an open flame of its own when he'd led her in the dance. And perhaps, worst of all, the way when she'd challenged him, he'd seemed to thrive forward, rather than shrinking back. It was all rather befuddling. But one thing was certain, Edwina should not be allowed within ten feet of the man, she certainly wouldn't be able to keep her senses the way Kate could.

"You should stay, Kate." Mary said softly as she stood to leave the drawing room. She'd had quite enough of being living artwork for Edwina's suitors to smile at benignly for one day. Kate sighed. "Mary, you and I both know that none of the gentlemen calling will even notice I'm not here. They'd much rather have a chance to wax poetic to you than be forced into conversation with me." Mary tutted, continuing with her embroidery. "And should Mr. Bridgerton call?" Kate stilled momentarily, her cheeks warming before she forced herself to scoff "Should Mr. Bridgerton call, expect to find Newton flying up the stairs. Equally as likely I should think."

It had been like this ever since she'd left Mr Bridgerton's presence last night. A near constant stream of questions from Mary and Edwina most of which she'd sighed away. Edwina had been particularly tenacious after Mary went to bed, and she snuck into Kate's room as always. "Oh, Kate." Edwina had sighed, ever the romantic, "The way he looked at you." Kate had rolled her eyes. "He was merely trying to flatter me into currying favour with you." Edwina's brow had furrowed "Kate, he never even looked at me. And he certainly didn't ask me to dance. Nor any other young lady." And Kate hated that she knew Edwina was right. Hated that her traitorous heart had watched the dance floor for him all night, and not seen him once.

Mary seemed to laugh despite herself, and then sighing, she put down her embroidery. "At least stay here until I've spoken with cook." She said in her tone that brokered no room for argument, leaving the room before Kate could protest even if she wanted to. Kate sighed as she fell back against the sofa, rather despondently. "Miss Sharma are you at home for callers?" The Butler's voice startled Kate, her posture ramrod straight once more as she took the proffered card her heart skipping traitorously as her finger traced the words there, unbidden

The Right Hon. Mr. Anthony Bridgerton

And for the life of her, she didn't know why she did it. It would have been so easy in Mary's absence to turn him away but instead she said: "Yes, Show him in. And then inform Lady Sharma."

The butler smiled and retreated, and Kate tried to stay calm despite the inexplicable racing of her heart. And then the door opened and there he was. Looking every bit as handsome in the daylight as he had last night. His hair falling into his eyes a little, his face lighting in the same disarming smile when he saw her.

"Miss Sharma, How do you do?" He said, his bow encumbered slightly by the veritable florist stand he seemed to have brought with him. "Very well, Mr. Bridgerton." She curtsied though their eyes seemed locked together. "And you, Sir?" There was no reason to be impolite, she told herself, he hadn't done anything so very offensive to her this morning. Mr Bridgerton's smile widened. "I'm very well." Silence seemed to stretch between them for a long moment as they stared at one another. Mr. Bridgerton seemed to shake himself. "Ah, Flowers for your Mother and Sister." He said, holding out two of the bouquets, roses she noticed. Beautiful ones at that. Kate took them when offered, admiring them before placing them on the side table. "My sister is out this afternoon, Mr. Bridgerton, so I'm rather afraid you've had a wasted journey. Mr. Berbrooke has called and taken her for a stroll in the park." Kate said dismissively. Mr. Bridgerton looked rather perplexed for a long moment. and then seemed to shake himself.

"And for you, Miss Sharma." He said, ignoring her statement in favour of brandishing the largest bouquet of tulips she'd ever seen at her, his eyes wide, his smile the brightest. And Kate's ridiculous heart fluttered again, butterflies beating their wings against her stomach. The flowers were beautiful, a stunning arrangement of red, and pink and yellow all mixed in together, even a man of Mr. Bridgerton's stature was practically buckling under the weight of them. And while her hands itched to reach out and touch them something in her refused to. "Do you not care for tulips?" Mr. Bridgerton asked, startling her again. His brow furrowed again. "Only, I thought I understood from my conversation with your sister last evening that you did."

And there it was. When Mr. Bridgerton had spoken with Edwina she didn't quite know, possibly when she'd been detained by the oddly attentive Duchess of Hastings, but he had. And in doing so he'd revealed his true motives. Ad despite knowing all along that this could have been his only real design, her heart sank.

"Mr. Bridgerton, after our discussion last night, you surely cannot imagine that I'd allow you to court my sister." Her voice rang through the drawing room towards him. Her most commanding tone that usually sent men running, and Mr. Bridgerton reacted most oddly. His brow furrowed momentarily, and then his eyes lit up, as though a candle had sparked behind them, his head thrown back in laughter that rang like a bell through the room, and Kate's heart leapt again. That same disarming smile on his face when he said "I should hope not, Miss Sharma, but would you allow me to court you?"

It was all Kate could do to prevent her mouth from dropping open, her heart fluttering though confusion welled up inside her. The bouquet still being held in no man's land between them, their eyes locked together in the same bizarre tension that had seemed to fill the room as they danced last night. And then she reached out and took them. "I'll consider it, Mr. Bridgerton." His laughter rang out again, "Well that's all a man can hope for, miss Sharma."

"Goodness, Kate, I've just seen the oddest occurrence in the hallway." Mary said as she breezed into the room breaking the tension. "I could swear I've just seen Newton flying up the stairs." Kate fought to roll her eyes at Mary's motherly smirk, her face brightening into a warm smile as she turned "Mr. Bridgerton, how lovely to see you again. Won't you take a seat?" Mr. Bridgerton smiled warmly at Mary as he settled himself on the sofa, Kate's mind struggling to catch up with the odd series of events. "Lady Sharma, nothing would give me more pleasure."

#when anthony met kate #edmund lives au #anthony is ready to get married #and kate's like sir can i help you?#kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #mary sharma #edwina sharma #molly's asks and answers

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

three’s company.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: and here we are! the final installment of the ajf 100 arc. this takes place right after mosley lane in season five, and from here on i promise we’ll see some happier days :) i can’t thank you all enough for coming on this adventure with me, as hard and fraught as it was.

words: 1.6k warnings: none!

summary: “let us not burden our remembrances with a heaviness that's gone.” - william shakespeare, the tempest

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

“You’d never believe it, Hales. The sass on your kid these days is unreal.” A laugh leaves you as you lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “He pulled one right out of your book the other day with Aaron when he told him it was time to come in out of the snow...”

It’s just one of those Saturdays where you needed to talk to her. Not for any particular reason, but just knowing that if this was any other timeline, the two of you would sit out in the breakfast nook in the big house, watching the snow fall and the sun set as the February evening wore on.

There’s a crunch of snow under day-off boots behind you, but you ignore him and continue talking, just as you would if she were here.

“We miss you. I think the weirdest thing so far was skipping your Christmas present. Had it all wrapped and everything and then I remembered you wouldn’t be there.” You look up, taking a little breath. “Had a good cry about that one.”

“It is getting better though, all things considered…” You trail off, not sure what to say. Sharing silence with a headstone is a little less companionable than the alternative.

It wasn’t a lie, though. The grief didn’t overwhelm you now like it did those first weeks. It sometimes clocked you at the oddest of times, drawing a few tears (or more than a few) or a little smile.

Sometimes, both.

You huff a little laugh to yourself. “We had a really good case outcome last week. Found three kids who’d been missing, got them all back to their parents. It was just one of those that reminded us why we do it, you know?”

Aaron sits beside you without a word.

“And you’d be proud of Aaron, Haley. He’s saddling the rest of us with the paperwork and going home early, most nights. It’s kind of impressive. Though, I know it’ll wear off and he’ll be back on his bullshit soon enough.”

There’s a snort from beside you, and you finally acknowledge him.

“Tell me it isn’t true and I’ll take it back,” you say, looking over at him.

He shrugs. “Can’t. But then again, you’d never lie to Haley and you’d never lie to the dead, so we’re two for two, there.”

You smile at him for a moment, gesturing vaguely to the headstone. “We were just catching up.”

“Of course. I thought it would be one of those days.”

“Where’s the kiddo?” You look over your shoulder, halfway expecting Jack to be playing somewhere in the snow.

“Helping Jess with dinner.” He addresses Haley’s headstone. “Hear that, Hales? Your son is helping with dinner, now.”

You both pause, acknowledging the laughter you know you’d get if she were here.

Looking over at him, you wryly note, “Yeah, see, Jack might be helping with dinner, but you still aren’t. What’s your excuse?”

“I have been sent to bring you to the apartment for dinner by request of my son and my sister.”

You tut at him with a little smile “Nice to see Jess has been promoted.”

He rolls his eyes.

+++

The first time the entire team gathers at Dave’s after the New Year is a refreshing return to something that feels halfway normal.

You’ve got Henry in your lap so JJ can actually eat something. He’s messing around with one of the rubik’s-cube-like toys Spencer got him for Christmas. To everyone’s delight, the novelty of them has yet to wear off and they’ve saved the entire Jareau-La Montagne household a couple of meltdowns.

“How’s he holding up?” JJ asks between bites.

You glance over at Hotch, on the floor with one leg outstretched and the other tucked underneath him. Jack’s holding his attention, explaining some advanced maneuver with his army men. “He’s doing alright. Better every day, I think, but there will always be bad days.”

She hums. “And Jack?”

You shrug, catching Henry’s toy before it can fall from your lap. “He’s still adjusting, of course, but Jess is doing a great job at keeping up with his routines.”

“Actually, that’s really all kids need at Jack’s age, other than socialization and physical affection,” Spencer says. “The retention of a consistent routine is key to development after the toddler stages of childhood.”

You toss a grin over your shoulder. “Thanks, Spence.”

He shrugs. “It’s just true.”

JJ huffs a laugh and puts her napkin on the table. You pass Henry back to her, and he’s more than happy to tuck back against her chest.

Dave, a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder, takes your plate. You follow him back into the kitchen, turning the water on and starting on the silverware while he tackles the glasses.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

Your brow furrows. “Yeah. Why?”

He glances over his shoulder. “Just not used to seeing you so far from Aaron, is all. Fifty feet is quite a far distance for a shadow to cover, don’t you think?”

With an eye roll: “Give me a break, Rossi.”

He raises his soapy hands as if to surrender, but you know he’s not even close to done. “I’m just sayin.’” He relents after a moment. “There’s only so much the rest of us can do for him.”

“What do you mean?” You direct your question at the dishes, remaining studiously focused on your task.

Unlike you, he pauses, turning square to face you. “For a pair of profilers...You know what? It’s not worth it.”

+++

Aaron stamps the snow off his boots and hangs his coat and scarf on the hook by the door, fresh from an afternoon of errands and paperwork at the office.

Belatedly, he realizes he missed the fort in the living room when he first came through the door. The couch cushions and dining chairs have all been arranged in an elaborate configuration, supporting the duvet stolen from Aaron’s bed and a fair few flat sheets from the hall closet. All the linens are secured with carefully knotted neckties, or pinned together with some spare clothespins you found God-knows-where.

Creeping forward, he picks up the corner of what he imagines is a door flap by design.

In the dark of the fort, he finds you and Jack curled together on your sides around the portable DVD player. Jack’s out like a light - his little hand pressed against his cheek where it rests on your arm. You’re awake, waiting for him.

Aaron finds your eyes. You smile a little and keep your voice at a whisper. “He’s only been sleeping about twenty minutes or so. He wore himself out playing architect, so I figured a quick nap wouldn’t keep him up too late.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Aaron assures you in a whisper with an equally small smile. “I’m just glad he had fun today.”

“Yeah.” You arc an arm over Jack’s shoulders and brush at the feathered hair on his forehead. Returning your gaze to Aaron, you playfully (and quietly) ask, “Want to join us for another movie, or are you too old for stuff like this?”

He shakes his head, a real, genuine smile on his face. It’s the first one you’ve seen in a while and it warms you beyond measure.

When he stoops inside, he rests his head on your calf and his hand on his son. You gingerly stretch for another DVD, and Aaron takes over the logistics after you hand it over - replacing the disk, lowering the volume, and starting the next movie.

In the quiet darkness, you think of Haley. A few tears slip out of the corners of your eyes, landing between your temple and your arm. You don’t dare move for fear of waking Jack, but it’s as if Aaron can read your mind. He lifts his head just so, finding your lashes inexplicably wet in the light from the screen.

Your eyes flicker down to his and your close-lipped smile is shaky.

His eyes narrow. What’s wrong?

Nothing. You shake your head just a little. I just miss her.

You watch the inside of his lip pinch between his teeth as his mouth presses into a thin line.

A trembling breath leaves you as you refocus on the screen, your fingers playing with the hem of Jack’s sleeve as he sleeps.

Aaron watches you for a moment. He thinks perhaps you are the only person alive who understood what was between him and Haley - the love, the tiffs, the history. Somehow, you managed to see right through them, right through him, right through her, to the heart of it.

He’s sure you love his son like your own. He remembers the desperate way you held his son when you found him in that trunk. It was that day - when he saw the panic flash across your face when you realized you hadn’t seen Jack, hadn’t found him - he realized that you’d kill, risk life and limb, drop everything, for Jack.

That day tested you as well. If you thought too long about it, you could still taste the metallic tang of anger in the back of your mouth when you thought about Foyet getting his hands on Jack. It was that overwhelming flood of emotion that brought you to the same conclusion.

Now, the secure weight of Jack in your arms lulls you into a kind of bone-deep peace.

You let your eyes close, falling into the sheer comfort of the moment. After a few minutes, Aaron follows suit.

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @spencerelds @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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mintseesaw · 4 years

Text

Aurora | 2

aurora - n. dawn Pairing: general!jungkook x princess!reader Genre: angst, smut, historical au, joseon dynasty au, established relationship au, secret love affair au Word count: 7.9k Warnings: smut, outdoor sex, rough sex, details of struggles due to war, manifestation and mentions of hallucinations, lewd dreams, manifestation of character dynamic Summary: A story that centers on a forbidden love affair amidst the centuries-long war of greed and power. Rating: explicit mature content Disclaimer: based on King Sejong’s time, yet is fictional and not historically accurate note: uhm,,, I’m sorry?? yfasksksdkh song recs for this chapter: still with you (jungkook) and through the night (IU)

With your back facing the front lawn of the house kneeling as you lay the fresh mint leaves onto the fabric covered bamboo mat, you scramble in your feet when you hear the distinct sound of the wicket opening to reveal the person you have been expecting home for an hour ago. That was what Jungkook had caught you up in, drying some greens for his daily dose of tea he has grown fond of over the course of months of your marriage.

“Jungkook, you’re back. What did the king want from you?” You asked, expectantly. Of course, he had anticipated your curiosity when the king, whom you have no contact with since your marriage, suddenly summoned him. Your husband. Jungkook did not respond as he greets you with an embrace and a soft peck on top of your head. “Seobang-nim,” you call, however, Jungkook has other intentions rather than entertain your curiosity. “I miss you, wife.” He mumbles against your temple. Your mouth slowly curves into a smile. His sweet, little remarks always win a reaction from you. “You saw me before you went to the palace.” “Still…” Jungkook trails, proceeding with his very intention through the tiny prurient squeezes of his palms on your hips. Adamant to know more about his itinerary, you lightly pull back to peer at your indifferent husband. His grip intentionally loosens, but not enough to let you go. Yet, it was an opportunity for you to increase your proximity. “Tell me, what was the purpose of your visit? Why would His Majesty suddenly summon you?” With your tilted head and focused, expectant eyes, waiting for him to supply you an answer, he draws a heavy sigh. “He wants me back in the service. Did it answer your curiosity, wife? Now, can I indulge my breakfast? I did not have a proper meal last night, wife.” He sentiments, with a trickle of provocative tone in his whisper. He sees you peeking from your eyelashes, giving him a glare, as if silently scolding him for obnoxiously lying through his teeth. However, before you could accuse him of anything, a small yelp instead broke out from your throat as Jungkook lunges forward, using his obvious advantage to make his lewd thoughts a reality. Given your unsuspecting mind and feeble-like strength due to last night’s steamy activities, Jungkook is well aware you had not regain your stamina just yet to oppose his advances. With the evidence of his arousal pressing deliciously against your stomach, your protests were swallowed as he devours your mouth whole. His hands on your nape controlling his ministration and on the small of your back maneuvering your length right against his towering built. Contentious with his early carnal needs, you try to keep your heavy-lidded eyes open as the warmth of his mouth spreads so heavenly on the length of your neck.

“Jungkook,” He hears you mewl. His mouth twitched, just by your weakening grip onto the fabric of his robe and your soft, breathless call of his name tell him your supposed defiance is slowly disappearing into bubbles of vapor. As his constricting arousal longs for your tight, warm sheath, he wasted no more time, hoisting you up in his embrace and strutted effortlessly towards the terrace. Carefully, he laid you flat against the timber-made floor, then swiftly hovers your body in between your thighs with his arms supporting his weight above you. With urgency, he shuffles through the multi-layered articles of your skirt, lifting them up until your undergarments are visible enough for him to be able to pull the strings to remove the tiny piece of fabric hiding his hidden gem. In other times, he would show you just how much he loves worshipping every inch of your body through his mouth and fingers without losing the momentum, if not inflaming his desire more. But right now, he just needs to fill you up good, fast and hard. As he proceeds to open his robe, pulling the strings of his baji to free his length, he felt the warm squeeze of your hand in his arm. His dark, lustful eyes squinted to yours. “Jungkook, someone might come in.” You attempted to argue in between your rapid intake of breaths. With an arch of his eyebrow, he manage to make a point to ease your worry, “We have not had a visitor since our marriage, Jagi. Do not worry about it. Have you not seen me locked the door when I arrived?” You shook your head, not trusting your voice. But as he releases his aroused member, he caught your pellucid eyes as hunger slowly replaces your supposed hesitation. Knowing he has gained all your focus now, specifically in his bare lower region, Jungkook pumps his sleek length. Your loose grip in his arm gradually closes tightly, your teeth piercing through the suppleness of your lip. He couldn’t wait any moment longer, he nudges his head on the curve of your neck to counter the tremors of lust coursing through his body, giving you a second more before he loses it all. With his skillful fingers, he uncovers your dripping core. His awaiting steel hard cock coming in contact on your warm, fully aroused center as his sensitive head pokes in your warm entrance. “Forgive me for taking you this way my love, I just need to be inside you now.” And just as he utters those words, he jerks his hips against your pelvis so forcefully that his balls slam right at your other hole from the impact, as his tip touching the undiscovered depths in your sheath. “J-Jungkook!” Your screams pierced through your throat uncontrollably as he builds an incredibly unforgiving pace. “I’ll make it up to you tonight, jagi.” He promises in between pleasurable groans. The tightness of your hot walls around his thickness indicates his intrusion must be painful for you—a stark contrast to the blissful grip of your tight pussy around his shaft. But the way you cling onto him, the way you meet his powerful thrusts halfway through, and the way your back arches when he rams so deep inside, indicate a different story. “Do you like it, my love? Tell me. Tell me how I make you feel, Jagi.” He demands, wanting to wring something from you just to validate the endless strings of pleasure trailing in his lower region. “It feels good, Jungkook please… Don’t stop, don’t—” another cry rips through you as your walls spasm involuntarily at the intense surge of sparks spreading from your core. He knows, you’re close just as he is. In most instances, he would prolong his pleasure, delivering you to the end several times, yet not chasing his own, and only reaching for his orgasm only when you’re too exhausted to take him yet again. However, this moment is not among those cases. Right now, he wouldn't deprive himself from chasing his release as it becomes too powerful, too addicting to prolong. “Yes, yes. Fuck!” He hisses onto your neck, endlessly pummeling through you. And just about another inch of moment where he reaches the seventh heaven, he feels his shoulder shook. With a flick of a finger, his world came in a painful halt. Then everything turns black, and into evanescence, he arduously returns into the real world. Particularly, in the depths of the woods where he'd wasted himself in the dead of the night along with his subordinates. As his smoky vision briefly skims through his surroundings, he immediately concluded his fate last night. He failed to make it inside his tent, and the only thing he could blame it for is the alcohol his subordinates had provided the night prior. He was too intoxicated, and the spirit of alcohol still lingers in his head as he felt it faintly pounds. At least he had the decency to sleep against a tree. The army had camped here to rest for the night, but the intended rest turned into a chaotic, wasted moment of their lives.

He lifted his death glare to whoever dared cut off his dream, ready to slice their head off of their shoulders. Jungkook was met with an anguish looking soldier. “My lord, forgive me for disturbing your rest but our comrades— they are trying to kill each other. One of them is already severely wounded.” The soldier exclaimed frighteningly, his face is covered with beads of sweat. Why did these soldiers even partook the army only to be such wimps dealing with their violent comrades? The commotion could be heard from his spot, the clashing sounds of sword against sword could be heard through the peaceful silence in the forest. Dismayed, Jungkook collected himself. He dismisses the soldier through a wave in his hand then disgruntledly rub his palms on his face to wear off his hazy vision and stood, bracing himself for another long day of journey. He must remind his subordinates who is in-charge of this army. However, with his head lowered, he notices the effect his dream had caused a mere second before he had recognized the pain. There it was, a tent of his own arousal. Groaning, he deliberately bumps his head against the uneven surface of the trunk of the indigenous tree he had slept against at. Dozing off in the oddest, most incoherent positions and places is not something foreign for him, for the soldiers. At some point, they had to spend nights stuck inside manholes in the middle of the forest to catch the rebels— who like them, have manmade caves to keep their tracks untraceable.

The ache in his back and neck he undoubtedly obtained from spending the night leaning against the hard bark of the tree in is nothing compared to the constricting pain in the expanse of his lower region. His lewd dreams had frequented in his nights these past few months—years even. They not only consist of his dirty little fantasies with you, but figments of how he'd imagine his future to be. They are almost real, and a story on their own. He‘s certain he’s gone crazy by the manner his dreams are able to create the images his heart had coveted, how his thoughts hone his dreams and stir something feral from his body, his impure needs. Perhaps, that’s how he had cope with your absence. Time had passed by a blur, but his feelings had not. It’s not so surprising to ponder over it for you are his other half, the soulmate the gods have bestowed upon him. He only needs to fulfill his mission, and it won’t be too long until he completes it. He misses you just as his soul longs to hear your delicate voice, your sweet laughter. He covets to be blessed upon your elegant beauty, and your bright smiles.

He had considered writing letters for you to ease the longingness in his bereft heart. However, the risks are too high for him to act upon his wish. Being an enemy in the unclaimed territory, foreign rebels would not think twice of hurting someone on his behalf. And that includes you. The adversity the two of you had caused four years ago left an ugly wound on your reputation, that was what he had gathered from his messenger. Despite the hierarchy of your status, noble families in the capital refuse to offer their unmarried sons to the princess for fear of being inflicted with misfortune tailing from the sin you had committed. The thought of you having to endure the pain from the gratuitous judgement of the people became his nightmare. No. It used to be his nightmare, as convinced by his selfish instincts. A blessing in disguise. In the midst of the predicament both of you have endured for years, your situation had only amplified his hope and eagerness to survive the uncertainty living in the battlefield. If no one would want to have your untouched, pure soul, he will gladly have you in his arms. With the military power he had acquired, the significant impact the army under his leadership had contributed over the years, and the loyalty of the army to him, the king would not refuse to his bidding. Even with a promised prince at your disposal. Still, the fear of losing you for someone else had cogently crossed his mind. Rare is when he dwells into solitude. And it is fortunate to be the case for him as he would not have to deal with the overwhelming plethora of emotions his heart carries every sane second of his life in the north. Mayhaps, his traitor mind chooses to play fool of him through an endless series of dreams. Of you. With you. It was a tricky game that he willingly succumbs himself into. Through the years, he had lost count how many lives he had ended, how much enemies had his sword touched their blood in order to survive the truculent situation in the borders. He knows, despite having his foot buried deep in the ground, he would survive in the death trap alive or, at least, breathing. But he realized, the longer he endures the uncertainty in the north, the higher the possibility of him losing in another battle. That, or he’d have to have you as soon as he arrives in the capital. That was his final consolation before he proceeds to slice through the disturbing sound of commotion, cheers of encouragement rather than peace. It was not only him who had gone insane from the years worth of ordeal they had braved through, it seems. The mere sight of a brawl now entertain his army. If these pieces of shit do not stop killing each other off just by the presence of their general, Jungkook might as well do the job, himself.

Since the deployment of the extensive military presence at the borders of Joseon, neighboring empires have adopted similar strategy to protect their own lands from possible foreign invasions. In Joseon empire, threats of rebellion were already ceased some months ago. But the war didn’t dissipate in Joseon. Now bearing enemies inside the territory. Among the endless reasons why the king had out of nowhere summoned one of his trusted allies, is to seek perspective over these matters from someone as wise as he is. Perhaps, wiser than he could have ever been. Since his ascension to the throne, his brother had completely extended his loyalty to him. With his brother on his side, he was able to see the situations on the outside palace. Corrupt officials from isolated states are seized, stripped off their positions, and arrested for the rest of their lifetime. The only thing they have not agreed so far is the forthcoming marriage of the princess with a Ming royalty. The former prince considers it an unwise judgment to arrange the princess’ marriage with a foreign ally, arguing foreign empires, an ally or not, will inevitably shift partisan as the need arises. If war stirs between them in the future, the princess may be used as a token of weakness against the Joseon empire. “Rumor has it that Councillor Kang is plotting to stir a commotion regarding the first born son’s title, Your Majesty.” He supplies to the King before taking a graceful sip from his tea cup. Perhaps, if there is one thing he misses in his previous life, it’s the refreshment teas and the sumptuous serving of meals in the palace that are exclusively served for the royal family. His resources are now limited, despite the constant help the Queen Dowager sends in his behalf, he cannot rely on anyone for his survival. King Namjoon made a sound of agreement, deeply in thought of his current predicament. “I have anticipated that even before Consort Li gave birth to my son. The opposition will always find a way to seek for my weakness.” “They cannot use the prince against you or the queen. The customs favor your wife in this matter. For a concubine’s son to qualify as the crown prince, he must be taken under the care of the queen. But in this case, no existing law would support the Southern Party’s agenda if the queen is already carrying the next king.” King Namjoon heaves a long sigh, viisibly relaxing, despite the creases present on his forehead. He had thought the same thing. “You are right. Clearly, they have nowhere to go but to follow the process. However, something portent tells me this does not conclude their plan to destroy our family. I need to gather enough proof of their misdeeds before they come chasing for my dethronement.” Namjoon discloses the last remnants of his worries. Yoongi’s lips curve into a dark smug, disgusted by the audacity of those greedy snakes to even attempt to disrespect the throne of the monarch with their lousy lives. "You mean, you are thinking of the possibility that they may attempt to challenge your throne, Your Majesty?” Yoongi echoes. As the thought crosses his mind, he agrees with the king. There is a possibility. However, would the favored faction risk their positions over a poorly, indecisive move?

As if the monarch heard his thoughts, King Namjoon proceeds to speak, "The Southern Party will not dare lose their only chance to be in government. They know of my capabilities. I could turn and replace the government if they insist against my will. This is why I need your help, Hyung-nim. I need to know what the people think of my first born son. They might consider using my people for their selfish interests.” Yoongi studies the king’s face for a moment, recognizing something he only ever had witnessed once when their father had succumbed to his illness, vulnerability. “Of course, Your Majesty. Expect my letters in the coming days. I will envoy a different messenger to avoid raising suspicions from the state council.” He immediately bid a farewell to the monarch, before leaving the royal quarters of the study. Discreetly, he saunters across the length of the endless maze-like hallways in the royal residence. No one must have recognized him for even the court ladies who run into his way did not stop to pay respect to the king’s brother. It did not matter to him, because his unrecognizable identity allowed him to live peacefully outside the palace. As he scurries past the series of familiar quarters, his mind wanders back to the discussion he had exchanged with the king.

Yoongi did not willingly lose his title, in favor of his younger brother just for the throne to be snatched away by these corrupt officials. He knew. He already had the realization at a young age that the throne, his birthright, was not for him. It was not his right, not only because he despises the tremendous responsibility that the title carries but he perceives his skills are not equally meant to rule the nation his father had cherished all his life. Despite inherently having the highest title a prince could acquire, he believed the third born prince, his prodigy brother, deserved to be the next in line in the throne. With this in mind, he did the simplest form of deviation, committing ungracious and inappropriate acts inside the court. His misbehavior acts lasted for months until the state council had had enough of it. Yoongi succeeded, he was stripped off his title. But he paid the lasting price of his deviance. Being banished in the palace as the court perceives his presence as a threat to the next heir.

It was an ironic thought. He deliberately lose his title only to be seen as a threat to the throne. Following this predicament, frightened by ascending to the highest title of a prince, the second born prince abandoned his title in pursuit of his dreams.

The assumption of crown prince was then passed to the third born prince. His feet continued to take him to the right paths. Never relenting, mindlessly scanning the nostalgic, extravagant constructions in the royal residence. Not until he heard a familiar feminine voice that he abruptly stops and peers behind his back. Catching a glimpse of his sister, his stoic expression slowly softens. You quickly strutted forward without losing the grace you had mastered from being taught since you were tiny when the top of your head barely reached his hips. Excitement bubbled up inside you at the sight of your eldest brother. You lower your head, and instead of hearing a proper greeting from your brother, he scolds you just like the old times. "Stop the formalities, Princess. I am no longer of title.” Your eyebrows form a line while a smile ghosts on your expression. “But you are still a Grand Prince for me.” He leans closer and ruffles the side of your perfectly braided hair, to which earns a protest from you. His smile widens, revealing the sets of his pearly white teeth. “I have missed you. It’s been a while since you’ve showed up here. What brings you here? Have you visited mother? What about the King?” He bursts into series of soft chuckles. “Slow down, little flower. No one is chasing you down here, is there?” Your face stretches in a frown, "You seemed to be already going out of the palace, Orabeoni. Do you not wish to see us before you go?” "I apologize, Your Highness, I have matters to attend to. I will come back to visit you and Her Majesty in the future." You sigh, but nod in understanding of the situation. His life now revolves outside the palace, you realized. "I hope you have been living well?" “You don’t have to worry about me. Perhaps, it would not be wise to tell you in detail the beautiful things I have witnessed during my travels.” He regards, meaningfully. You understood what he meant.

The bright smile your face adorns slowly fading, “You have heard, haven’t you? That was a long time ago...” The least for him to do to fill the void of the loss of his family is through gathering news about them. It was the safest means for him to remain knowledgable of his family’s matters rather than exchanging letters with them. Despite losing his royal status, living outside has given him the wholly overview of the nation. He had learned a lot of things for his survival and for his scholarly works. With his brother’s permission to delve into the records in the Bureau of State Records for his scholarly works, he stumbled upon the history of his ancestors, and the untold secrets of the old royal families. Even the undiscovered edicts, one of which would soon reverberate through the empty halls of the palace.

“I always know what goes on in here even when I’m not around.” A small smile rests on the corner of his lips in the hopes of lessening your sudden uneasiness. Somehow, it did. “What about Prince Hoseok? Have you heard of him? Since his disappearance, the queen dowager and Prince Taehyung refused to talk about his whereabouts.” “Do not worry about Hoseok. He is, like I am, in the best condition of his life.” He prompts with collected patience. Living far from the extravagant lifestyle was difficult to get used to. But as the beauty of life slowly unravels for his eyes to admire on, he realizes he had no regrets giving up everything his previous life had offered before him. For you to navigate the same onerous path he took to endure the new, yet simple living, he’d rather have you revolved your life around the good side of the world, somewhere where nobility surrounds you. Life outside the palace is cruel and filled with misfortunes and unsaid miseries. “I’m relieved to hear that. Please take this before you go,” You say, reaching out to your braided hair, unclasping the gold pin and placing it in his unwilling palm. He arches an eyebrow, questioningly. "It’s the only thing I have right now—“ “I should take my leave now, Your Highness.” “Right, then please accept my gift, brother. I believe it carries luck as well as my prayers… for your security.” Yoongi draws a long breath, closing his palm around the metallic piece of accessory, wondering what he would it use for. Crouching forward, he places an affectionate kiss on the top of your head, dropping a promise, “I will come see you when you get married.” Your brother swiftly pulls back and turns away without sparing a single glance from your direction, heading off towards the secret passage that only you and your siblings knew. The same path you crossed when you took off years ago. His sudden disappearance made your apprehension profound, and at the mention of a forthcoming marriage, it left a disturbing, unwarranted feeling at the pit of your stomach. You have been faithfully loyal to your promise, despite the uncertainty. You tirelessly waited for his return. But, it does not mean you would only vain while you remain unmarried. You have aged a couple years since he left the capital. While you age more, your royal duty becomes inescapable. Years without him have not been forgiving, but there was nothing you could hope for as you remained out of the attention of the government, avoiding an inevitable marriage— something that should have happened several years ago. As much as the queen dowager worries for your future, the situation seems to be more a blessing than curse for you. You have no power to control an arrangement that only the queen and the king have, and the only way for you to stay unmarried is to avoid the marriage itself. However, you know, as time ticks off, the life of a lighted candle decreases. So are your chances. You wish to see him, at least, at the break of dawn.

On the east side of the grand palace, unbeknownst to the rest of the royal family, the queen had met with the queen dowager in the garden of Huwon, at the similar period of time while the king and his brother were at the royal residence. A couple of servants and royal guards were awaiting on behalf on the foot of the pavilion. More than a year ago, the queen dowager had descended from the throne when the first ranking lady in the Selection whose father governs a remote state in a distant province assumed the highest position a female of title can acquire. From then on, the king's mother had learned to trust the queen for her genuine efforts in regulating the palace women's affairs. With her faith on the queen's fair judgement to the matters in the inner court, she bestowed her blessing to arrange the princess' marriage with a suitable man of nobility. It was the purpose of their vigilant meeting in the secluded royal garden of the East Palace. But the profound carefulness in addressing the matter had soon reached the prying ears of the government officials through their scattered watchful spies disguised as servants inside the grand palace. Rumors of your betrothal rapidly spread through the halls of the palaces and into the capital. Your forthcoming marriage had been expected years ago, but as you had remained unmarried for a long time, the society had already concluded your future. Being a lonely maiden for lifetime, as your punishment for painting damages to your virtue and disobeying the gods’ laws. When the news reaches Yoongi, he immediately decided to return to the capital.

Several days later, half of the army from the northern border had finally returned to the capital, and into the East Palace’s throne hall, they had paid a respect to the king of the nation. The couple hundreds of soldiers in a full view from the king's throne, it was a display of the king’s military power from the watchful eyes of the prospective enemies. While the army stood outside, across the king’s throne hall, General Jeon entered the royal throne to present himself as the leader’s army which he had led for the past four years. His left arm holds his head armor, the other hand securing two scrolls as he takes long powerful strides across the length of the hall towards the awaiting monarch on the throne. With his head high, he stopped in front of the throne, before he crouches on his bended knee, and lowered his head in front of the King. It was not long before he rose back from his feet. The authoritative voice of the contented king resonates inside the throne hall. “I am glad you have survived the war, Jeon. I have not missed a reading on all your accomplishments. Although your army have lost a great amount of soldiers in the past four years, I am immensely impressed by your skills and leadership for you have not only captured the rebel leaders but also conquered parts of the outside north.” King Namjoon could perhaps be in an ephemeral peace. With the influence and loyalty of the army the general has come to acquire, General Jeon would make a great ally for his empire. He needs to keep it that way. “It is the only way I see fit to end the war against the rebels. If we have not conquered the North, they will not surrender on their own.” General Jeon proceeds, with the boldness of him to return the stare of the king. King Namjoon did not mind, in fact, the fearlessness that the General emits through his mere stature impresses him. The same general couldn’t even risk lifting a gaze in front of the ruler a few years ago. But the young general before is nowhere near recognizable from the man standing in front of him. The battlefield had honed the general into a real soldier. Tracing his stubble on his jaw, he continues to praise the general, “I commend you, Jeon. I must say, you are wiser than the late general. What have you brought for your king in your return, May I ask?” Jungkook didn’t waste any second longer, handing out one of the scrolls to the king’s eunuch. He waited until the eunuch places it on the king’s table before concluding the content of the scroll. “That record accounts for the extension of the lands outside the northern border. The peasants and commoners who reside in these areas now recognize you as their king. With this piece of record, no other ruling monarch would question your ownership to the conquered lands. Unless, they want to seek war against your kingdom.” “I am beyond impressed, Jeon.” King Namjoon asserted, clearly showing his utter astonishment. As he skims over the sloppy, almost unillegible calligraphy, Jungkook decides to prompt another matter, a significant one. “Perhaps, Your Majesty, you have heard that the Ming empire had sent an ally troop for us in the north.” Showing too little interest over the subject, King Namjoon's attention stills on the scroll’s content. “I am aware, General Jeon. What matters with it?” “Commander Park, the leader of the Ming army, is the 13th prince of the Ming empire, full blooded brother of Emperor Kim. One of his brothers had warned him about the traitors in the Joseon court. It is Councilor Kang who attempted to seek alliance with the Ming princes against your ascension, Your Majesty.” At the mere mention of the Southern Party's leader, the attention of the king immediately shifted to the general. Perplexed, the heat of anger rushes in him. If this is the truth, he would make the Southern Party receive an unforgiving punishment for threatening his throne. “You don’t say…” The king dangerously trails, “Do you understand what your allegation could mean if it bears no truth?” King Namjoon couldn’t seem to perceive the credibility of his claim. There was nothing he could read from the general. Nothing but the dead in his eyes. “I am merely relaying the words of Commander Park to you, Your Majesty. It is not an accusation from me but a warning not to trust Kang’s pretense intent of peace.” With the dark grin ghosting on the general's face, King Namjoon scrutinized his expression. What is his motive? “You are not telling me this out of concern for my throne, Jeon.” He warily prompts, testing the waters. He has no doubts of his loyalty. If there is one thing the king is certain, Jungkook honors his words. But with the sudden shift of the discussion, King Namjoon is suddenly holed up with utter confusion. The slight curve of Jungkook’s lips twitches more as his eyes remain black. Empty. “You are right, Your Majesty.” Jungkook has been keeping it long enough, after fulfilling his duty and his unspoken promise to his father, it’s about time to fulfill the most important one in his lifetime. “What is it that you wish in exchange for this giving me this information?” “I have not yet told you that Commander Park and Prince Jimin are the same person. It is the same prince you have arranged betrothal with Princess ______, is it not Your Majesty?” His eyes narrowed. So this is about the princess all along? “That matter is not of your concern, Jeon Jungkook. You must know where your position would account for your regard. I would not wish for you to be among my enemies, Jeon. Stay away from the princess.” admonishes the monarch. “I do not wish to start a war against you, Your Majesty. I am merely seeking for your blessing to grant me this decree.” Jungkook raises the scroll before holding it forward towards the Eunuch’s reach. He spoke no more and waited for the King to read the decree. Once King Namjoon got hold of it, he urgently opened the scroll, eyes eagerly skimming over the texts written in familiar calligraphy. Jungkook watches the shock slowly uncovers from the face of the King. The control and power crumbling into pieces as the riffles his eyes through him pellucidly, throwing the scroll on his table. Whatever it is that was in the decree has discomfited the king as the darkness of his eyes now matches the general's lifeless eyes.

“This couldn’t be possible…” He calmly concluded amidst the fury his expression is giving away. Did he think he had outsmarted me? King Namjoon silently thought. He turns to his side, the glower in his face effortlessly made his Eunuch tremble in fear. “Call the Chief Secretary!” He ordered. Despite the king's anger, Jungkook remains passive, anticipating the worst that may blew up by revealing the undisclosed edict. If this is the his ploy in order to have the king capitulated on his terms, he has to pay for the inexorable price of his crime, a military official or not.

On the other side of the capital, there you were in the market, enjoying your time outside the palace. This day is one of the few instances you are allowed to wander off in the capital. The Queen has reasonably permitted for your gratuitous trips. You are grateful for she did not perceive your royal status as a threat to her ascension for you want to sustain a peaceful relationship with the royal family. Years ago when Jungkook brought you in this particular shop, you have frequented here since. The lady merchant has grown a liking to you for you have always been one among her generous customers. The pieces of accessories they sell, you have learned, were crafted by individuals of no noble descents. Your fondness of buying illegally published literally books was replaced by adding up pieces by pieces of jewelry and hair accessories to your collection. After a moment of eclectic selection, you finally have made up your mind which pieces you would purchase this time. Instead of making your way back to the palace after purchasing these items, you decided to stay a little longer, absentmindedly surveying the variety of inexpensive goods aside from the luxurious pieces the shop sell.

A few feet away from your stance, a rugged looking man of seemingly from a noble trace with the dark, elegant shade of his robe approaches the same merchant. And even without a gay atop his head, the rarity of his robe’s colors colors could already be speaking of power. This man is not just one among those government officials that commoners frequently see in the daylight.

The eager shop owner beams, noticing the indifference of the noble man’s eyes as they bore over the pool of jewelry pieces and accessories. Perhaps, another prospected customer who is merely buying for their lover, “My Lord, do you wish to buy something for your wife?” It was then the lips stretch in an endearing smile, “Yes, I’d like to purchase something for my lady. Do you have something to recommend for me?”

The shop owner surveys the official for a brief moment, before an idea pops into her mind. “Oh, I have been keeping this one of a kind piece for a long time, now. If you are interested, My Lord, I’ll show it to you.” The shop owner regards in a mysterious, lingering tone, as if to pique his curiosity. Why did she not offer you this piece? You pondered, without lifting your gaze upon them. “Go on.” He encourages. The seller holds out a small intricately designed box, opening it in front of him to reveal a pair of plain yet immaculately crafted gold rings. "This was brought to a temple for five days in order to bring good fate for lovers. The shaman said to sell this to lovers who are willing to pay generously in exchange for a good future.” In a heartbeat, the man curtly nodded. "Consider it sold.” He says in a certain tone. The shop owner’s eyes widened in surprise, immediately collecting the box, allowing no opportunity for the man seemingly in a high-ranking position to afford such to change his mind. “Your lover is lucky to have you, My Lord.” The lady dreamily remarked. He only smiled and didn’t speak further as he hands out a generous amount of currency in exchange of the content of the small box.

You were there all along, listening closely to the interaction. The strange man caught your unsolicited attention with his mere voice. That’s what it seems. You're as puzzled as overwhelmed from unintentionally hearing the interaction. But you’re certain, he’s not the one you think he is. The man only sounded like him. Too late, for your heart already started pounding loudly on its own accord. Your state frozen, seemingly lost in your thoughts to have your body move as you wish. It was not your nerves but your doubts that is stopping you from looking at him to rest your judgment. It took you a while. And you regret not taking the chance when you had it because before you could gather your pittance of a strength to gaze upon the man, he was already out of sight. In desperation, your eyes eagerly search through the sea of people, mentally sifting through the layers and layers of passers-by as if your eyes will magically blur everything else to locate his figure. He was already gone. This has happened before. For several instances. Your mind always creates an imagery of him whenever he crosses your mind, wherever you are— seeing someone bearing his familiarity. But every time you do, you’re always unable to see their actual face. It was not him. That’s what you’re sure of.

He couldn’t be omniscient in nature, he couldn’t be in the north while grazing your presence here every now and then. He just couldn’t be here.

This is just one of them. Would your heart not mind if you see his home, at least, for the last time? Would it matter more to you to see his lifeless household, or would it just a waste of time and a heartache?

With your lurking mind, you scurried the path where your heart is taking you.

You didn’t really noticed the long, arduous walk you had gone through. The sun is about to set when you arrived. Your feet like a mind of their own, stopping in front of the wooden barricade. His mother has lived with his relatives in a distant town somewhere after Jungkook left.

There’s nothing else to see other than the barnished wooden gate. You cannot even open it for your own perusal. But you kept on coming back here for it was the only thing in the present that connects you with that memory, reliving them in the present. He spent his last moments here with you. But however beautiful your memories here had been, the contrited pieces always linger elsewhere in your mind as you relinquish the past. Fate is a mere imaginary force, perhaps, created by entities living in this world, as fictitious as happiness, as treacherous as love. While hope brings you a strong faith of anticipation to the uncertain, the endless cycle of waiting only gives you the bittersweet acceptance in return. There was no regret behind the years of your wasted youth amidst the inescapable obligation of being an object of possession under a political truce— the truth that you have to live from the guise of a royal birth. You kept your promise, and until time and your royal duty comes in between, you will stay faithful to your words. Your fingers quickly shed the moisture threatening to spill from your eyes. And as you emotionally gather yourself up, you turn away in bereft. Not knowing that someone from behind is going towards the opposite direction. With your occupied mind and your sudden move, it was too late for the stranger to step sideways to avoid your approaching figure. The impact left you immobile for a second, losing your balance as your legs gave away. However, they caught you just in time.

Ambivalently speechless, you were unable to scramble off to your feet away from them and utter words of apologies to the stranger you have caused a burden of. When you have recovered, you softly gasp in embarrassment, mumbling series of apologies without prying your bashful eyes up towards them. Scared that they will lash out at your carelessness. Not until you hear the voice of the stranger. “_______?” Your rapid breaths stutter, you felt like everything else around you stops but the loud thumping of your heart. Was it your mind one again creating a hallucination of him? Slowly, you lift your head up. But you swallowed the urge to gasp as your eyes eagerly rake through the rugged looking man in front of you. It was your first time to see their face, to see him fully. The face your mind has created for years. Unfortunately, nothing resembles him of Jungkook but his eyes. And his voice. Stupid of you to think he’s real. You immediately turn away, gathering the strength to go as far away as you can. “______ wait!” You hear them call, your mind is pretty adamant, because the farther you walk, the louder his voice gets to you. It was not long when they had caught up with you as you felt the force in your arm, yanking you back around to face him. “What are you doing here?” He asks the same question he uttered to you years ago when he saw you in front of his house. You clenched your eyes shut, disturbed with your evil mind’s tricks to play with your heart dangerously. How could it possible for him to be here, coincidentally when you’re mourning, when you had just imagined him at the capital? As much as you‘re convinced he’s not real, the warmth from his hands seeping through the fabric covering your arms as they keep you locked on their hold tell you the person isn’t just a figment or your imagination. He’s real? “Jungkook?” It took him a second before he realizes the tone of your affirmation. “You didn’t recognize me, Jagi? It’s me.” Lips quivering, you clasp his face in between your palms with your collected strength, silently wishing none of this is a part of your imagination like it has been in the past years. “Is it really you? Am I not just dreaming?” You whisper in grief, as your sorrowful eyes pierces through his soul. Something twists in his gut, catching your efforts as you control the faint sobs threatening to break out from you throat.

It was too late for you to swallow them as tears pooled out of your eyes. The calloused pads of his thumbs feather lightly brush against your tear stained cheeks.your efforts to control the faint sobs.

“I’m here. I came back for you. Haven’t I promised you that?” He wants to prove it to you, just so you would believe it is real. That he’s here before your eyes. His face was mere inches to yours, but he stilled, almost losing his control if not reminded by the fact that the two of you are out for the world to see. You blinked, hiding the dejection when he steps back just as you were anticipating something else. With a heavy heart, you prodded. “When did you come back?” Jungkook deliberately didn’t answer. You have all the time to ask him later. Right now, he needs you. Swallowing a big lump in his throat, his fingers entwine tightly with yours, gently tugging you forward.

“Come with me.” He says. “Jungkook, what...“ Your voice faltered, panting from the distance you had walked through. Your curious eyes follow his free hand as it swiftly unlocked the hidden bar of the wicket.

Just as he has pulled you inside the vicinity of his household, he pushed the door shut along with your body, pressing you flat against the hard surface. Jungkook cages you in between with his hands glued on the sides of your head. He used to dream about this happening. With you, in an arm’s reach. He stays still for a while, savoring the moment. His leering eyes quietly memorizing every detail on your face. You have not aged a year older. Jungkook thinks he was looking at your younger self. Except for your hollowed cheeks, and dulled pair of orbs, you still look mesmerizingly breathtaking, beautiful, pure and only his. He inches closer, invading your mouth with much controlled passion. The faint sting of his stubble as it made contact against your skin creates another foreign sensation, sparking desire within you as tremors run down your spine.

“Gods, I miss you.” He groans against your mouth. For a moment, you were stiff, shocked by the boldness of his advances. Jungkook had kissed you before, you had felt the wetness of his lips pressing against yours before, as he expressed his affection for you.

But not like this, not with the way he was lewdly nipping your lips, not with the way his tongue is chasing your own. Not with the way his hands are exploring the untouched parts of your body.

Jungkook nudges his head south, on the crook of your neck. He moves closer, flushing his huge body against yours. Your eyes clenched shut at the feel of his need on his lower region pressing on your clothed stomach. A soft cry resonates through the quietness of the household at the feel of his teeth and stubble piercing simultaneously through your skin. Bound speechless under your clouded mind, unable to discern the right and wrong when Jungkook plotted the hole that you have willingly allowed yourself to be buried into its depths.

As he captures your lips once more, your fingers corded beneath his long knotted hair. There was no turning back now. He will have you one way or another.

a/n: what do you guys think? im curious to know what your thoughts are pls share them with me :(( it’s rushed i know and as expected this is unedited so forgive me for grammar issues and typos

credits to the rightful owner (Jeesung Kim) of the image edited as a banner

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tulipsandcorgis · 3 years

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Hii , hope you're well

Since you're open to crazy prompts i would like to contribute one!

What if Kate goes to duel someone who tries to take advantage of Edwina? And Edwina obviously panics and goes to the Bridgerton for help and she gathers all the Bridgerton brothers to go and stop Kate. Anthony's obviously furious because she's willing to kill herself (hypocrite) and drags them all back to his lodgings.

I'm sorry if its such a long prompt i simply had to share the idea! Thank you for all your fics!!

unsurprisingly, a long (and very interesting) prompt results in a long(-ish) answer! so here’s 1.5k words of anthony not realizing he’s afraid to lose kate, colin contributing very little to the conversation, and benedict and edwina just going along for the ride, i suppose. also featuring brief appearances by daphne and lady danbury, and mentions of an original(-ish) character. not sure if this 100% works with the canon timeline, since this is set before anything happens between kate and anthony (aka no kiss in the study has happened yet).

anyway, thank you so much for trusting me with your idea! without further ado, here it is:

“She did what?” Anthony exclaimed, staring at Edwina with a wide-eyed expression on his face. The crease between his eyebrows had deepened significantly, and it almost looked as if he were about to pop a vein in his forehead.

“Well, we were just preparing to leave Lady Trowbridge’s ball tonight — you were there, too. As were you, and you.” Edwina said hurriedly, glancing at Benedict and Colin. “And Kate saw Lord Mountbatten approach me, and before I knew it, she’d challenged him to a duel.”

“Why?” Benedict questioned, having clearly not witnessed the encounter, and Anthony gritted his teeth.

“Edwina, forgive my language, but you sister is a bloody fool.” He spat, clenching his jaw and massaging his temples with his thumb and forefinger.

Edwina paid no attention to his comment, and turned to Benedict. “He gripped my waist quite hard, you see, and made some comment about how lovely our children would be, and then Kate appeared. I’ve never seen her so furious. And then, well, she said something along the lines of wanting to demand satisfaction.”

She shuddered at the memory of Mountbatten’s mouth near her ear during a dance, his calloused palms gripping her waist with much more force than was strictly necessary. But then, much to her relief, Kate had showed up.

Benedict’s face contorted into a look of genuine disgust, and Colin’s eyebrows raised.

“Well, where is she?” He asked, almost conversationally, as if absolutely nothing was wrong. Anthony pondered fratricide for a brief moment. “I could always be her second.”

“You will do no such thing,” Anthony interrupted, glaring at his brother before turning back to the group. “This is madness. Mountbatten is a skilled marksman. With his finger on the trigger, Kate would die before the ten paces are even up!”

Edwina gasped. “We need to find her, quickly.”

Benedict patted her shoulder softly. “We will, don’t worry.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, brother.” Anthony snapped, before grabbing Edwina’s hand and leading her out of the study. “Now, I suppose we should find your sister before she gets herself killed.”

“Daphne told me that she and Kate were heading over to Lady Danbury’s after the ball,” Colin supplied. “Given these… unforeseen circumstances, we don’t know if she’s still there, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.”

Much to everyone’s relief. Anthony agreed, and the group quickly made their way to Lady Danbury’s residence, with Colin still offering advice, probably to ease Edwina’s anxiety.

“You know, I could still be her second,” He offered, turning to Edwina. “After all, I do know where Anthony keeps the pistols.”

The girl’s eyes widened in surprised, and Anthony frowned. “If anyone is to be her second, it will be me.” He said firmly. “Seeing as Benedict and I are the only two people here who actually know the rules of dueling.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “If you’re talking about the incident with Hastings, I was also there,” He reminded his brother, but Anthony was having none of it.

He picked up his pace, relieved to see that Danbury’s house was in view. Benedict, Colin, and Edwina struggled to keep up as Anthony practically raced across the cobblestones, bounded up the steps, and pounded on the front door.

“Christ, you’re going to give Lady Danbury a heart attack,” Colin muttered, and Anthony shot him a look.

A footman opened the door, and Anthony practically pushed past him, leading Edwina through the house, with the other two brothers hot on their heels.

In the dimly lit drawing room, the only light coming from a roaring fire in the fireplace, sat Lady Danbury, Daphne, and Kate.

“Ah, Bridgertons!” Lady Danbury grinned, nodding at Edwina. “And a Sharma, as well. Come to collect your sisters, I presume?”

Benedict muttered a quick, “Something of that sort,” as Anthony said, with the last shred of politeness left in his body, “I’m afraid we don’t have time for small talk tonight, Lady Danbury.”

He shot the older woman a strained smile, then turned his attention to Kate, who sat on the sofa with Daphne at her side. He shooed his sister away, and ushered her and everyone else, except for Kate and Edwina, from the room. Now it was just him, the Sharma sisters, and Anthony’s rage — which burst from him as soon as the drawing room door clicked shut.

“What on earth do you think you’re playing at?” He hissed, his eyes burning with a fire that was similar to the very one roaring on the coals in the fireplace. “Your sister—“ He pointed at Edwina. “She arrives at Bridgerton House and tells me you’ve demanded to duel with Lord Mountbatten!”

Kate rolled her eyes and stood. “He—“

“He made a comment to your sister, yes, but that is hardly something to duel over, Miss Sharma. Do you know Lord Mountbatten is one of the best marksmen in the ton?”

“No,” She said, eyeing him closely. “But—“

“He can kill you, Kate.” Anthony told her, his voice deathly serious, and her eyes widened. “Kill. You.” He repeated, either to get the words through her silly skull, or, perhaps, his.

Anthony stepped closer, his manners being swallowed up by the anger and fear growing in his chest. “He would aim that tiny bullet right here—“ He pointed to a spot just below her collarbone. “And you’d be gone before the doctor on site could get to you.”

She swallowed thickly, lowering her eyes to where his finger hovered in the air, just several inches from her skin. The air crackled with something electric and unsaid, and Anthony felt his jaw unclench as he lowered his hand.

“That won’t happen.” Kate said finally, looking past him, at her sister.

“You don’t know that.” He barked out a twisted sort of laugh, the sound almost getting caught in his throat. “If you did, you wouldn’t have demanded satisfaction in the first place. Seriously, what were you thinking?”

He turned away, his eyes burning from something that must have been the smoke from the fireplace - nothing else could’ve caused it, he was convinced - and looked at Edwina. Whatever words he intended on saying were forgotten once he heard Kate’s unforgettably calm voice reach his ears.

“Lord Bridgerton—“

“Miss Sharma, you must know that there is a person in this room who is very intent on not losing you!” He cried out angrily, interrupting her and effectively silencing both sisters. The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire, his pocket watch ticking, and his heavy breathing. He sighed.

“I know that your sister would rather you not die because of your protective and impulsive nature. My sister felt the same about me just a year ago.” Anthony admitted, looking down at his boots.

“And I realize that.” Kate responded quietly. “Which is why I rescinded my demand for satisfaction as the ball came to a close. Lord Mountbatten was… strangely understanding, and admitted that his comment was made impulsively, as well. Everything is more than alright now.”

“Oh.” Anthony said aloud, and Edwina breathed a sigh of relief, rushing forward to hug her sister.

“Well, Mountbatten’s foot isn’t,” Kate mumbled as she hugged Edwina, a devilish sort of smile spreading across her face as she caught his eye.

Anthony bit his lip to keep a laugh from escaping him. Good God, how many toes had she stepped on?

Soon after that, as he led the sisters to the drawing room door, Kate nudged his arm with her elbow.

“Why’d you do that?” She asked. “You know, come here to save me from death and whatnot?”

Anthony paused. He didn’t know how to respond. He really didn’t know why he was so set on stopping Kate from dueling. Was it because he knew how quickly one’s life could change due to a single moment, how a family could be irreparably altered by death? Or, perhaps, it was because he was so desperate for her to stop objecting to his suit of Edwina.

“Well,” He said, stalling slightly. “I suppose it’s because I care.”

“Oh.” She sounded genuinely surprised.

“About your sister.” Anthony finished, trying to ignore the way her face hardened. “Losing someone can be terribly difficult, and I would never want my future wife to known that kind of pain so soon.”

Edwina would have to accept his death in nine years, at most, but it wouldn’t matter all that much, since they weren’t likely to get very attached to one another.

“So you wanted to be a hero?” Kate muttered, walking through the doorway and joining Benedict, Colin, Daphne, Edwina, and Lady Danbury.

“I suppose.” He shrugged, and she rolled her eyes.

“Well, you’re not one yet. Keep trying, I suppose,” She replied, before taking Edwina’s arm and heading to the front door, with Daphne in tow. For a brief moment, Anthony wished that he could accompany the sisters home, instead of his sister.

And as he bid Lady Danbury goodbye, prepared to walk back to Bridgerton House to drop off Benedict and Colin, and finally head to his own lodgings, he was struck by the oddest feeling that when he became a hero, Kate would be there to see it.

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