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honeybeejam · 5 months

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new year's eve; theodore nott x reader

pairing: theodore nott x fem!hufflepuff!reader, slight harry potter x reader, reader is flirty with all of her friends pretty much

warnings: reader presents as and is referred to as a woman who uses she and her pronouns, alcohol and drugs, partying, swearing, suggestive – characters are of age!

synopsis: it’s new year’s eve, and pansy convinces you to seduce harry in order to make theo jealous.

word count: 3k

There’s nothing you hated more than parties. Between the sweaty bodies, lowered inhibitions, and the bass thumping through the floor of whichever house’s common room met their unsightly fate each weekend, there were enough reasons for you to avoid them. Even New Year’s Eve, a holiday for partying, was one you dreaded. You had better things to do most nights, and the noise gave you migraines. Cedric would come barreling up to the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall at breakfast the next day in order to dish out all of the gossip from the night before, anyway. You would listen politely and nod your head, engaged but too kind to want to share the details with anyone else. That’s if you hadn’t heard them from Pansy first. As much as you loved being friends with both of them, you were never one to gossip.

Unfortunately, your task of the night was to do exactly what you hated. Pansy absolutely refused to let you miss a party that Slytherin was hosting, especially because you were all at Hogwarts for the holidays. The Slytherins had a tradition of hosting this particular party, outdoing themselves each year. You had happened to miss it every single year, but you wanted to fulfill her wish for your last one. She claimed that not only would it be more fun with you, but it also promoted “interhouse unity” and that it’s good for the younger students to see your friendship.

She didn’t respond when you reminded her that no younger students would be in attendance.

You wanted to make her happy anyway, so you promised yourself you’d agree to her later.

You were more of an introvert than most Hufflepuffs, preferring to keep a wide group of acquaintances and a far narrower group of friends. As odd as it seemed to most, that group of friends was home to the most notorious Slytherins at Hogwarts. Each of them was descendants of the vilest Death Eaters in wizarding history. You didn’t see them as any different. They were all big softies, but you knew that part of that was your own influence.

You had met Pansy in your first year, during a double Transfiguration class with the Slytherins. Pansy had answered McGonagall’s question incorrectly, earning a snort from Draco. She had sprinted from the room in tears. Despite protests and a detention threat from the Professor, you sprinted after her. You two had been inseparable ever since your talk in the corridors that afternoon. You watched each other grow, holding hands through every struggle you faced. You were there for Pansy when she needed help with processing emotions and understanding herself, while Pansy defended you when you were made fun of for being too gentle or soft. Pansy had given you the nickname Sunshine, claiming your gentle nature and normally bubbly energy were reminiscent of the massive star. Everyone began to adopt the nickname, and by third year you barely heard your real name.

Which is why you were so reluctant to say no to Pansy, no matter the circumstances. And that proved to be an issue in your current situation, when Pansy was on her knees in front of the sofa in the Slytherin common room, pleading. She had called an “emergency family meeting” after the boys returned from their morning Quidditch practice. Quidditch training for the Slytherins didn’t stop for anything, even the holidays.

“Please, Sunshine! I cannot show up to a party we’re hosting without you! If you wear gold and I wear green, we’d complement each other perfectly. We’ll be the hottest there!” She whined; her hands clasped together dramatically.

“Wow, Pansy, I never pegged you as the begging type.” Draco drawled. He was sitting in an armchair nearby, wrapped in a plush blanket.

‘If you don’t shut that bloody mouth of yours, I’ll peg you, Malfoy.” She hissed back, popping her hand up gracefully to present her middle finger to the blonde boy. While Pansy sat in front of Sunshine’s spot on the couch, their friends sprawled out over the rest of the common room. Pansy had called an “emergency family meeting” immediately after their early morning quidditch practice, and they were all exhausted. Draco was the only one who was fully awake in his armchair. Opposite Draco sat Blaise in a matching armchair, only slightly more tired. Draco gave him a glare when he suggested that the pegging might be enjoyable, since Draco gives off “bottom energy.”

Mattheo sat in the center of the sofa with his head leaning on your shoulder. He was awake, but his eyes were shut, trying to convey to all of you that he was uninterested in your shenanigans. Next to him was Enzo, his head resting on the arm of the sofa as he stretched his legs over you two. Theodore was star-fished on the rug, completely knocked out.

“You know I’ll never force you to come, but maybe you’ll finally get that kiss?” Pansy mentioned in a lower voice, giving you a knowing look.

Your focus turned briefly to Theodore softly snoring on the carpet below you, clad in his Quidditch jersey and a plush coat. A beanie covered his hair, likely to prevent the winter weather from bothering him.

He looked peaceful, beautiful.

You had developed a crush on Theodore Nott right after becoming close with Pansy. She introduced you to the boys nearly immediately, grateful to have another feminine presence among the group. She had told you that “the circle jerk needed another innocent bystander to suffer” with her. You immediately fell for Theodore’s quiet, subdued nature and his clear blue eyes. The more time you spent around him, the more you wanted to kiss his cheek when he was rambling or hold his hand when you sat next to each other in Potions. The thoughts that filled your mind at night were much less sweet. Over the years you had tried to get over your crush on him, but it had quickly developed into infatuation and was currently at a level of love that excited and terrified you. Pansy always told you that she could tell he felt the same, but you had never let her convince you.

Mattheo opened his eyes to what Pansy said, seeing you blush deeply as you shook your head, your own eyes still focused on the boy on the floor.

“You know he doesn’t fancy me, Pans. I can’t embarrass myself like that. I would be mortified.”

“So, then you blame it on the alcohol, are you daft? It’s New Year’s Eve! The perfect excuse and the perfect plan to get some dick!” Mattheo cackled at himself, lifting his head from your shoulder to flick you in the forehead. You responded by raising your fist at him and bringing it down towards his lap, to which he leaped off the sofa and backed away. Enzo cleared his throat as you began to stand up to chase after Mattheo.

“Merlin, Sunshine. I’ll give you 10 galleons if you go.” He groaned out, smacking his head back against the armrest in annoyance. You slowly returned to your sitting position, sending Mattheo a fierce glare across the room.

Theodore stirred awake at the sound of everyone’s dramatics, offering you a reassuring smile. “It’s always more fun with you, sole mia.” He grumbled out sleepily, causing your stomach to feel warm as you tried to prevent any reaction from showing on your face. Still, you blushed, knowing you had to acknowledge him. He knew you couldn’t say no to Pansy, he was just giving you that final push along.

“That’s sweet Teddy, thank you…and you’ll mix me a drink if I go, Enzo?” Why not embrace the opportunity?

“Fine, if you two let me go back to sleep before I strangle you.”

Hello text string my old friend. I've come to talk with you again...

“You look absolutely stunning, Pansy. Luna will be thrilled.” The door to the girl’s dormitories swung open as Pansy led a half-ready Hufflepuff into the room.

“Thank you, Sunshine,” Pansy grinned, “I have a feeling Nott won’t know what’s coming for him either.”

You wore a strapless gold dress. It was silk, the fabric flowing gently down the curves of your body until it rested softly at your upper thigh. You had planned to finish getting ready with Pansy and then meet the boys in the common room.

“Theodore isn’t looking, you know. I heard just last week that he had gotten with some Ravenclaw. He isn’t interested, especially not in me.” You mumbled as you applied your lipgloss. “Good thing I’m so familiar with the corner of the Slytherin common room, sounds like the sofa is calling my name for the night.”

Pansy turned to you to complain but froze when the two of you made eye contact. A brilliant idea popped into her head. She smiled at you with a glint in her eyes, and you knew she was up to something.

“Would you fuck Potter?” She began to laugh hysterically as you spit water at the bathroom mirror, sputtering and coughing.

“Fucking what?”

The devious Slytherin girl grabbed your jaw and turned you back towards the mirror, squeezing your face until you understood what she meant.

“I’m wearing Gryffindor colors?” You asked softly, beginning to understand what Pansy was getting at.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but Theo isn’t very fond of people putting their hands on what’s his,” She spoke with calculated precision, trying to convey her point as gently as possible. “Lipgloss transfers, and red looks hot on you.”

The way you shrieked would’ve had any bystander believe you had met your fate in the girls’ dormitories, but you were doubled over in laughter, giggles spilling from your lips as you looked at Pansy like she had turned into a cerberus. “You want me, who is hopeless at flirting, to seduce Harold Potter? The guy who couldn’t take a hint if it was taped to a bludger and thrown at his head? Sure.”

“I can teach you the basics, Sunshine. You’re not hopeless, I promise. I can tell you that just by what I see in the corridors. You get a lot of stares; you just need confidence. Here. Roll your shoulders back and lift your chin a little. You’re pretty, flaunt it.” Pansy walked across the room and stood at the far wall, turning around to face you.

“When you walk tonight? Sway your hips a little,” Pansy smirked, beginning to walk towards you, her hips moving smoothly in small circles, nearly hypnotizing. She stopped a few feet from you, and her tongue darted out slightly as she licked her lower lip. She giggled. You snapped back to attention, slightly dazed.

“See? Easy. Even if you let him know it’s to make Theo jealous, Potter is a bull-headed Gryffindor. You’re wearing his colors, love, and he’s an athlete. You’ve got this in the bag,” Pansy broke out into a full laugh at that. You tilted your head slightly, contemplating. If Pansy could do it to anyone, why couldn’t you? You could even tell Harry beforehand. After so much longing, you decided it was worth the risk. You were going to make Theodore Nott jealous.

Although the Slytherin common room was usually quite dim, tonight it was filled with smoke, bodies, and flashing lights. It seemed as if they had pulled out all the stops for this one. You maneuvered your way through the crowd. You had come up with a plan with Pansy before joining the party. First, you would find the boys. You’d make sure Theodore just missed you. Then, you would approach Potter. Nothing too much, just enough for Theo to notice him with you. A little touch here, a laugh there. Hopefully, Theo would get jealous and make a move. You were starting to doubt yourself. What if he didn’t like you at all? It had been nearly seven years. What if you had misconstrued those soft smiles and longing glances? You shook with fear at the thought of rejection but pushed it aside as you noticed Mattheo and Enzo over by the drinks. You rushed over, making eye contact with Enzo to remind him of his promise. As if on cue, he lifted a cup, handing it to you as you reached their sides.

“You look fucking hot, Sunshine,” Mattheo blurted out shamelessly, looking you up and down. He was never one to keep his thoughts to himself. Usually comments like this were followed by Theo threatening him, to which he would finally shut up. However, you found it hilarious.

“Thanks, Matty,” you laughed. “On a mission tonight.” You took a sip of the drink, wincing. It tasted like Enzo knew what you were up to and added alcohol accordingly.

“Operation Ride the Italian Stallion?” Mattheo and Pansy were the only ones who you had officially told, being the closest to them. Mattheo often made fun of you for it, finding humor in the way you’d blush and deflect.

“Holy shit, Sunshine, you have a crush on Theo?” Enzo interrupted suddenly.

“Where have you been? And what the hell is in this drink?” you asked, taking another gulp. Your crush on Theodore was quite obvious, at least to everyone except for Lorenzo and Theodore himself.

“Honestly? I’m not sure. I know its strong.” You grinned at that and choked down the remainder.

After a few minutes of talk about Enzo’s latest escapade, a tall man came walking towards the table: one you immediately recognized as Theodore Nott. Your Theo, which meant it was time.

You spotted Harry on the opposite side of the room, throwing an apologetic glance towards the other boys as you made your way towards him. You swayed your hips slightly as you went, just as Pansy had taught you. Theo looked at you in confusion in the corner of your eye, but you turned your attention fully towards Harry once you reached him. You had noticed Theo glance down at your waist, though, filling you with giddiness and confidence.

“Hey, Harry! I thought I’d check in on you, it’s been a while.” A blatant lie. You had just spoken to him last Wednesday during Defense Against the Dark Arts. Great start.

“Hey, Sunshine! Is everything okay?” he asked, voice laced with friendly concern. You winced at how he had already noticed your weirdness. You were friends with Harry, but you had never been around him without the company of Hermione (and occasionally Ron). You thought he was less familiar with you. Despite the mess up, you leaned in towards his ear, speaking at a nearly inaudible volume over the music.

“Look over to your left, near the drinks. Is there a tall, devilishly handsome man currently glaring in this direction with the fire of a thousand suns?” You placed a hand on his bicep, whether to push the narrative further or let him know that you were acting was unclear to him. He blushed and stuttered anyhow.

“Y-yeah, Nott? I’d say he’s got at least four Unforgivables on the mind, and, uh, there’s only three.” You smiled as wide as you could to try and let him know you were only teasing, but he only glanced at your lips to examine the red gloss painted over them. You decided to tell him outright, not wanting to unfairly lead him on.

“Thank Merlin it’s working, I thought Matty was going to kill me if I didn’t get his attention,” You pushed just a little further, placing a hand on his chest. “My friends have been pestering me to do this since at least fourth year. I owe you at least three Sugar Quills and a bag of Fizzing Whizzbees. I’ll throw in a chocolate frog or two if you can muck up and do something bold.”

Although Harry was shy, you knew he was a simple boy. You knew the way to his heart from the few nights you sat in the Gryffindor common room until the early hours of the morning with the Golden Trio. He would always carry candy on hand, and you would always replenish his stock. Usually, it was in exchange for the latest gossip you had learned from Cedric and Pansy or to make up for what you had stolen during your time together, but tonight was special.

He perked up at the offer of candy and immediately leaned in towards your neck, presumably to whisper in your ear or something of the sort. Instead, you remembered what Pansy said earlier.

Lipgloss stains.

You tilted your head to press a kiss under Harry’s ear, giggling as his head lifted to look at you in shock. Before you could explain your thought process, you felt a firm grip on your side, near your hips. The hand spun you around, giving you a full view of Theodore’s broad chest. Your glance trailed up to meet his, pausing slightly at his shoulders to admire.

“Teddy,” you addressed him politely and with fervor, nervous and excited about what would happen next.

“Sunshine,” He responded, his eyes breaking contact to drift down your body slowly. He took his time to reach your face again, his glare hardening when he made it there. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course, Teddy!” He gently grasped your wrist, wasting no time pulling you towards the doors to the corridor. He stopped abruptly to whip around towards Harry.

“Tieni le mani lontane dalle mie cose, Potter,” Theodore hissed. Neither of you knew what he had said, but you both knew it wasn’t friendly. You mouthed a ‘sorry, thank you’ at him just in case.

When the door to the common room closed, Theo immediately trapped you in between himself and the cold wall of the dungeons. The corridor was empty: all of the students were either home for the holidays or in the common room behind you. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the anger buzzing like a wasps’ nest.

He spoke to you gently but firmly, his accent growing stronger as his frustration poured out.

“Would you like to tell me what that was, sole mia?” He asked sarcastically, looking down at your lips to see the red gloss reflect off of the dim lights in the empty hallway. He shifted to press his knee between your legs, pushing them apart slightly. You took in a deep breath, your voice shaking slightly.

“What what was, Teddy?”

“Your little show with the Chosen One? And why are you in Gryffindor colors? You look beautiful when you wear any color, bella ragazza. but you truly belong in green. Definitely not gold, and especially not red.”

You felt a slight pressure on your lower lip as you looked down to see Theodore’s thumb in the center. He pulled gently, dragging the color down your chin as he grinned at you. “I don’t know if you can tell, sole mia, but I’m entranced by you, body and mind.” He confessed, letting out a heavy exhale at the end of his sentence.

“Please tell me you aren’t joking, Theodore. You wouldn’t do that to me.” Tears threatened to spill as you finally glanced at him. His eyes were soft, loving. He was serious.

“Never. You’re constantly in my thoughts, Sunshine. You make me smile even when I feel like I can’t feel anymore. We call you Sunshine because you bring light to our lives, you know? I’d be six feet under my dad’s heel without you,” His eyes softened as he caught the pink dusting your cheeks and the upturned corners of your mouth.

“You just call me Sun, actually,” You correct with a smile, hoping he’ll approve of your Italian.

“Sole mia. My sun.” He tilted her chin up to force her to look at him as he let out a low, gravelly “Mine.”

You suddenly heard cheering from the common room. Shouts of numbers rang out through the dungeons. You followed along quietly, each number getting closer and closer until you finally hit one with the crowd, your voice barely escaping.

His lips were on yours, the red gloss smearing over his face and mixing with saliva and years of longing. You tasted like firewhiskey and cinnamon and him of butterbeer, an intoxicating mix that made your head spin. When you finally broke apart to gasp for air, you pressed your forehead against his. His eyes were wide, pupils so dilated that his blue eyes looked nearly black. You couldn’t read the emotions going through his head, but you knew they were similar to the ones you felt stirring inside yourself.

“Happy New Year, Teddy.”

“Happy New Year, sole mia. Any chance you’d like to smear that lipstick somewhere else?”

“Theodore!”

note: “Tieni le mani lontane dalle mie cose, Potter,” means “Keep your hands off what’s mine, Potter.” I don’t speak Italian so please let me know if you notice any mistakes! i hope you enjoy, happy new years xx

- bee <3

#harry potter #theodore nott #theodore nott x you #harry potter x reader #lorenzo zurzolo x reader #lorenzo zurzolo x you #theo nott smut #theo nott #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott/you #theodore nott/reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #hp #harry james potter x reader

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maelialuv · 1 year

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A Farmer's Friend. a Bridgerton fanfic <3

part one: A Chance Encounter

Summary: division brings unity. secrecy creates infatuation. a king's venture into the real world reveals desire.

Warnings: slow burn! strangers to friends to lovers! (Charlotte does not exist) smut! cold showers are on me.

Wordcount: 3.4K

The country side , to you, was heaven on earth. The far roaming hills, the deep valleys. The wide expanse of nothing but lush green fields. There was truly nothing more beautiful.

Your father's farm, to you, was the most beautiful of all. Located at the farthest edge of the county, miles and miles away from the city of London, it was a haven of tall grass, fruitful crops and rich orchards. That is where you spent most of your time, perched between the trunk and wide branches of a tall apple tree in the deepest part of your family's gardens. Far away from the bustling farm house, the uproar of live stock and the erratic, but loving, nature of your home.

From the moment the sun rose over the hills and danced across your face in the morning, to the moment it tucked itself into the valley at night, you were out in the fields. Tucked away indoors, you found yourself claustrophobic. Cased in, stir crazy and a tad hysterical. From a young age, your parents had to heard you inside at the end of a day much like the sheep dogs would heard the lambs back into their pens. It was no different, even as you approached adulthood.

You had your back to the trunk of a tree, a book clutched in one hand and an apple - freshly plucked from the branch above you- in the other, when you caught sight of one of the stable boys chasing after your father in the field ahead of you.

A man of great strength and pride, your father took his work in the fields very seriously. Even after the death of his own father, he was back shearing sheep after just two days. This is why it confused you ever so much , brows furrowed in a frown, to see your father drop his shears at once in front of the stable boy and clutch his chest. The pair raced down the field, sprinting in the direction of the house with the dogs trailing behind them in a flurry of brown and grey and white.

You took a pensive bite of the apple, crunching deliberately. 'Whatever is the matter?' you thought. 'What is the meaning of such fuss?' You tried desperately to get back to your book, the words of the author falling on distracted thoughts as your mind pondered such a reaction from your father. You snapped your book shut with a huff, annoyed and now positively rabid with curiosity.

John, an Orcher in his late fifties, was plucking apples from a tree just next to yours. You peered your head over to him. "John," you called, "have you any reason for father's fuss with the stable boy?"

John's face paled, almost frightfully white, at your question. He took his cap off with the type of remorse one shows with deep apology. "I'm terribly sorry, madam. I thought all the children were aware." You quirked a brow at his words, irritated that the farms people still saw you as one of the children despite being the eldest daughter in the house. His voice was gruff and gravely, years of shouting at yardsmen wearing on his vocal chords. "There is to be a royal visit, madam. Today."

Your eyebrows shot up so fast , you wondered for a moment if they were still on your face. "A royal visit? Here?" The Dowager Princess had not been out in the country since the passing of the late King. Your brows furrowed in deep confusion. "Whatever for?"

John shrugged his shoulders earnestly.

"Lord knows but I, madam. Some sort of review of the farmland, but that's between the King and his advisors."

"The King?" you squawked. You hiked your skirt up, throwing your legs over the branch and jumping down. You stalked to the bottom of the ladder John was standing on. "The King is coming here?"

In all your eighteen years, you'd only ever seen one monarch. Even so, it was a painting of His late Majesty. All you knew of the current King was that he made no visits to the towns, nor galas or balls. He had been labelled somewhat a recluse of a man. You wondered how that could be healthy for such an old person. At least, you assumed he was old. The previous king had died aged seventy and two, so this king must have been creeping into his late fifties now.

"Yes, madam." John said. "Your father has been called now, to prepare. He is due to arrive soon."

Your feet sprang into action, galloping down the aisle of the orchard at lightening speed as you raced toward the direction of the house. You never cared for pompous displays, or the royal family as a whole, very much at all. But today was different. The king himself was visiting your home. Your fields, your valleys and your hills. You felt oddly protective. As if this inspection was to be one with an insulting conclusion. You reassured yourself that they would see the beauty in your home. In the sway of the grassy hills in the wind.

Knowing your mother would not let you close enough to see even the Royal carriage make its way through the wooden gates of your home, you rounded the corner of the brown farm house and clambered your way up the large oak tree in the middle of the drive way. From high above in the branches, you would not be seen by your mother - as she so preferred. She yearned for a daughter more like the ones her sisters had. Lady like and proper and ones that smile at every pleasing farmer their mothers set them up with.

Your mother was disappointed in the lack of girlishness in you. She was displeased in your fascination with reading, and your taking to the outdoors. She was put off by the closeness between you and your father, finding it strange that the two of you could be friends as well as father and daughter. She found your desire to spend all day outdoors odd, and you found her desire to marry a farmer whilst hating farms to be odd in return.

You gripped on to the tallest branches, peering through leaves in the hopes of seeing the gleams of gold as the carriage approached. You saw your father and the farmer boys line up in front of the door below, and your mother and younger brothers waited just behind them. In the distance, you heard a low thrumming sound. It got louder, and seemingly closer, as more seconds ticked by. You realised, as you heard the clop clop clop noise, that it was the sound of horses' hooves on the dirt tracks as the carriage came into view.

The carriage halted in front of your door, and your father outstretched his hand to an older gentlemen in a plush blue suit. Though your fathers clothes- an old grey shirt and black trousers- were not as elegant, he looked just as regal as he shook hands with the stranger, who you assumed to be the King. He had greying hair, curled into ringlets by his side. There were several other men beside him, ranging from young to old to very old.

You craned your neck to hear their voices, a chorus of low hums and stiff lipped compliments from the old man you saw to be the king. Several minutes ticked by, boredom creeping in as you swung your legs back and forth over the branch, before the group of men finally split to tour the farm land with your father. You rejoiced, a grumble in your belly making any words they said inconsequential. You began your decent from the tree.

With scraped palms and knees, you made it to the ground with a thud. A successful spying , you thought as you wiped your hands on the skirt of your dress. Your monologing was interrupted by the stifled chuckle of a man behind you. You whipped round, narrowing your eyes at the man. Dressed in a simple white shirt and the same black field trousers as your father, he looked to be a fielder himself.

"Hello," he said, voice even and light. He stood with his hands behind his back, polite and effortlessly straight. He was young, younger than the rest of the group you assumed he had been standing with. He must have been no more than three years older than you, as his cheeks still had the faintest roundness to them.

"What are you doing?" he asked when you did not say anything.

You knew your eyes were wide, those of someone caught. There was no use in lying , nor excusing. This man had watched you climb down the tree, from where you had spied. You outstretched your hands, as if stating the obvious. "I was climbing down. From the tree."

"From the tree?"

"Yes, from the tree."

"From that tree?" the man asked, voice teasing and smile irritating as he pointed to the tall oak you had previously been perched in.

"Yes, that tree."

"Whatever for?" He placed his hands behind his back once more, slowly pacing around you in a circle.

"I was hungry, you see." You deadpanned.

"Ah," he affirmed, "and you did not bring food when you climbed up the tree." He was enjoying teasing you, as the smirk on his face grew larger at your squirming. "Or simply not enough."

"Well," you trailed off, waiting for the man to introduce himself to you.

"Forgive me," he said, outstretching a hand. "I am George."

"Well George," you continued. "Usually the trees I climb have some sort of fruit or such for me to eat while I climb, or lounge, or read. This is not my typical tree to climb." You explained.

"And I suppose you have a typical tree?" His face was oddly gleeful, as if this conversation with you - a stranger- was the best part of his day. His smile was wide, showing teeth.

"Yes, I do."

"Which is?" He asked, stepping closer toward you. His smirk was a teasing grin now.

"The apple tree," you stated, that protectiveness creeping back into your tone. "at the farthest end of the orchard."

"Now," he said, voice lilted with mock impress, "I must see this tree, that you so fondly and regularly climb." His voice was a stage whisper.

"Alas, I cannot." You teased back, some what enjoying the banter yourself. "I do not simply show my tree to strangers."

"Ah, but I am not a stranger," he said, closer again now. "I am just George." He stuck his hand out again, waiting for you to shake it. Hesitantly, you did. "I would be honoured to see your tree."

"Do you not have business to attend to?" You asked, gesturing in the direction the other men and the Royal herd had walked in. George shook his head, waving off your remark.

"They are fine themselves. They have no use for my agreements here and questions there." He said. "And even so, if I were to re-join them now," he took another small step closer to you, eyes searching in the distance, "my mind would think of nothing but this apple tree at the farthest end of the orchard."

You smiled at the man as he looked down at you, and felt the strangest urge to lead him by the hand to your sacred reading spot. Something about George made you trust him, utterly and completely, as if you'd known him your whole life. As if you'd run through the fields with him as children, and he knew where the tree was already.

"All right, just George."

A bright, down right contagious smile etched itself on to his face. You couldn't help but smile just as brightly.

The two of you strode side by side through the back field of the farm, chatting idly as you lead him to the orchard. George told you he was a keen farmer himself, but his family bound him to the city. "Why don't you just leave them?" you asked as you opened the large wooden field gate for him.

George paused, leaning on the gate with both arms crossed. "It is not that simple," he said, his face contort in a frown. "I am obliged to stay there. It is a duty, of sorts." He looked around at the tall grass, the wild flowers that bloomed in the field at his feet. "If it were up to me, I would spend all my time in the country."

You felt immensely sorry for him. The thought of being away from the country for more than a day put a nasty pit in your stomach. Gently, you placed your hand on his arm. He looked up at you with glum eyes. You gave him your best reassuring smile as you squeezed his arm lightly. He smiled back at you.

You fell back into stride with one another after that. George asked about your family, and you told him about your father and your three younger sisters. He asked where they were, and you let out a haughty laugh. "They cower at the sight of mud. They are cooped inside with my mother, embroidering or learning the pianoforte or some other nonsense."

"You see no value in these tasks, then?" George asked with a small smirk.

"I see no point, given where we live. What use have I for musical impress or intricate sewing when I spend my time outdoors?" You paused your walking, gesturing to the cows grazing near by. "Any man I encounter in these parts will be as impressed by my pianoforte as those cows."

"Ah, I see." George chuckled to himself. "You are to be a spinster then." You whipped round to face him, annoyance turning your brows into a tight v shape. George laughed again.

"For a stranger you are certainly bold."

"I do not hear a defence."

"No, I am not to be a spinster." You crossed your arms, uncrossing them when George cocked his head to the side slightly. You must have looked ridiculous, like an petulant, spoilt child. You huffed.

"I am not to be a spinster. At least not by intention." You both began walking again, rounding the corner to the long aisle of the orchard. "There," you said, pointing to your tree at the very end.

You turned when George remained silent. His mouth was agape slightly, brown eyes wide and almost honey in the mid day sun. "Beautiful," he sighed out.

It caught you off guard, the strange desire to lead him by the hand to your tree and show him the very best branches. The way he looked at your favourite spot with such awe made you near desperate to share it with him. You had to restrain yourself from reaching out and touching his hand that was inches from yours at your side. You shook your head slightly, as if a jitter would rid of of such peculiar feelings. "Come along, then."

George walked obediently at your side, keeping perfect pace with you. As you walked, he couldn't help but notice the sway of your hair in the light breeze, the way it framed your face so gently. Or the patches of freckles that spotted the bridge of your nose, or the subtle fullness of your bottom lip, how it was slightly larger than the top.

"You said you are not to be a spinster by choice," he began as you reached the foot of the tree. "Whatever do you mean?"

"What I mean is," you said as you reached up to a near branch, pulling yourself up with little struggle, "no man here is in need of a wife, and I am in no need for an elderly husband." You frowned when George laughed again. "You must stop that!" You cried.

"Stop what?" He smiled through his teeth again.

"Laughing at me!"

"I am not laughing at you, forgive me." He said, reaching up to the same branch and - just as you had- hauled him self up with ease. "I simply find it hard to believe no one here is in need of a wife."

"Everyone is already married, or too old, or far too young." You deadpanned. "I do not want to marry a frail old man."

"Let me rephrase," George began. He reached across you, and for a moment you thought he was going to touch your cheek. You sucked in a nervous breath. He plucked an apple that was hanging just above you ear. "I find it hard to believe no one here wants you for a wife."

You found it hard to form words, stuttering over a response. George bit into his apple , smugness radiating off of him in reams.

The two of you sat in peaceful silence for a moment, your backs leaning against the trunk of the tree while your legs stretched out next to each other. "Do you sit out here all day?" George asked softly, turning his head toward you. His breath fanned over your face slightly. You nodded.

"Most days," you sighed contently. "I am usually the one that goes into the towns if needed. Otherwise, I am left alone to sit here as I please." You looked out as the sheep roamed the field ahead of you.

George rested his head back against the trunk of the tree.

"I am envious of you, truly." He said, looking at you from the corner of his eye. You turned your head to face him. Your shoulders were brushing against each other with every breath.

"You are welcome to come here," you said, in an uncharacteristically soft voice. "You can bring a book, and you may sit here for as long as you like, whenever you please. Whenever your family allows you to be in the country."

This close to him, you noticed the flecks of gold in George's eyes. The small freckle above his eye brow. The rosiness of his cheeks. His words echoed in your head.

'I find it hard to believe no one wants you for a wife."

In the distance, you heard the ruckus of the men returning to the front of the house. George shot up. You shot up with him.

"I must go," he said hurriedly. He swung his legs over the branch and jumped off. As you moved to do the same, you saw him waiting on the ground with his hands outstretched. He was helping you down. You reached a hand out to him, and he pulled you down. Expecting a thud, you noticed he had steadied you with a hand on your waist. "I wish I could stay longer, I truly do. Alas, they will run like chickens without heads if I am not back soon."

You wished to find some poetic goodbye, but all you could muster was a soft sigh. "Will you be back?" His hand was still gripping yours.

George chuckled breathily.

"Of course," he said, as if it was obvious. "I must bring a book and see if this really is the best spot for reading."

The voices in the distance got louder, calling George's name now. He looked over his shoulder, then back to you. "I am back in the country in two weeks time. May I see you then?"

You smiled at his politeness, hoping your hasty nod came across as friendly and not desperate. "Of course."

"Splendid."

He brought your hand to his lips then, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your knuckles. "It has been a pleasure, madam." He said with a gentlemanly bow.

He turned to walk away then, and you felt as though the wind had been knocked right out of you. Your feet were glued to the ground, unable to move you from that same spot.

"Oh," George called from a distance. "The inspection went fantastically. Your farm shall have a wonderful review." He grinned, all boyish and joyful, before turning back and sprinting in the direction of the loud voices.

His words only sunk in after he'd rounded the corner gate, and you nearly collapsed onto a log.

Not only had you spent your afternoon with a total stranger, telling him your deepest thoughts and secrets, scandalously close should a gossiping eye see it.

You'd just spent your afternoon with the King of England.

#queen charlotte #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #queen charlotte netflix #king george #king george x reader #king george bridgerton #corey mylchreest #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #period piece #slow burn #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #strangers to friends #fluff #smut #fanfic #bridgerton queen charlotte

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thewulf · 1 month

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Entwined Realms || Legolas

Summary: Request: So I thought about this idea with Legolas x reader where the reader is the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn (which makes her princess of Lothlorien and a very high elf) and she is nervous because its commonly known that Galadriel and Thranduil dont like each other (she is still his superior but you get the point) and the reader and Legolas have a dinner or some council or something together with their parents.

A/N: This was one of my favs to write. Just love everything LOTR... please keep them coming! Thank you for the request @lillisummers

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.1k +

TW: Talks of war/death

In the timeless realm of Lothlórien, you, the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, walked among the golden trees with a heavy heart filled with the weight of ancient grudges. It had been many years since you last tread upon these familiar paths, for you had spent much of your time in Rivendell, aiding in the healing of those who bore the scars of war.

As a princess of the high elves, you bore the burden of your lineage with grace. Yet the tension between your mother and Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood, weighed heavily upon you. The animosity between them was no secret, and you often found yourself caught in the midst of their disagreements. You were torn between loyalty to your mother and the desire for unity among your people after the war of the ring. Your return to Lothlórien had been sudden, called back by your father during the darkest days of the war. The news of battles raging across middle earth had filled you with dread. Yet, you knew that your place was by your family's side, lending whatever aid you could in the struggle against the darkness.

Despite the discord that lingered between your realms you held onto hope, believing in the power of unity to overcome adversity. The memories of Celebrian's capture and torture haunted you still. She drove your determination to see an end to the suffering that had plagued your people for so long.

As you walked beneath the golden canopy of the trees, you found solace in the familiar sights and sounds of Lothlórien. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the branches. They spoke to you of peace and beauty, reminding you of all that was worth fighting for in this world. Your steps carried you towards a familiar spot. The quiet glade where the gravestones of those fallen in battle lay. The air was hushed. The only sound was the soft whisper of leaves and the gentle trickle of water from the nearby streams.

Stopping by the gravestones, you traced your fingers over each weathered stone, feeling the weight of loss settle upon your heart. Here, beneath the earth, lay the brave souls who had given their lives in service of a greater cause. A cause that you had fought for alongside them. Your thoughts turned to Haldir, the gallant Marchwarden who had stood by your side in the darkest of times. His laughter, his kindness, his unwavering loyalty… they were memories that you held dear, memories that would live on long after he had passed from this world. At one point you were convinced you would marry him but that was before he was taken so suddenly from you.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself a moment of silence. A moment to remember those who had been taken from you too soon. Their faces flashed before your eyes, friends, fighters, and loved ones alike. Each one leaving behind an indelible mark upon your soul. And yet, amidst the sorrow, there was also hope. Hope for a future where their sacrifices would not be in vain. Where the darkness would be banished for good and the light would shine so brightly once more. With a silent prayer upon your lips, you vowed to carry their memory with you always, to honor their legacy in all that you did.

As you stood amidst the gravestones, lost in memories and reflections, a soft voice broke through the silence. She was calling your name. You turned to see your mother, Galadriel, approaching with a gentle smile upon her lips. Her eyes, always so wise and knowing, held a depth of understanding that eased the ache in your heart.

"Y/n," she said, her voice like the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, "I have been searching for you. It is good to see you home again. You look well my love."

You returned her smile, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you at the sight of her familiar face. "It is good to be home, Mother," you replied, stepping forward to embrace her.

Galadriel held you close, tight. Her arms a reassuring embrace amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling within you. "You have been missed, my dear," she said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As you pulled away, Galadriel's gaze softened. Her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and affection. "There is much to discuss," she said, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "But first, I have news that I believe will bring you much joy."

Curiosity piqued, you listened as Galadriel spoke of the upcoming marriage between your niece, Arwen, and Aragorn, the King of Gondor. The news filled you with a sense of anticipation, the prospect of a wedding bringing a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had shrouded middle earth for so long. "I would be honored to attend," you said. Your heart swelling with love for your family and excitement for the joyous occasion to come.

Galadriel smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. "I had no doubt that you would," she said, her voice tinged with warmth. "Come, let us return to Caras Galadhon and begin preparations. There is much to do, and little time to waste." She motioned you to follow her.

With a nod of agreement, you fell into step beside your mother. It felt as though the weight of grief and loss lightened by the promise of love and celebration on the horizon. As you walked the golden light of Lothlórien illuminated your path guiding you towards a future filled with possibility.

Too quickly the day of celebration arrived. The grand halls of Minas Tirith were adorned with banners and flowers, filling the air with a sense of festivity and anticipation. You, dressed in your finest elven attire, mingled with the guests. Your heart was aflutter with excitement and nerves for your niece and the King of Gondor. Amidst the bustling crowd, your eyes scanned the faces of those gathered taking in the sight of strangers and acquaintances alike. And then your gaze met that of a mysterious elven stranger across the ornate courtyard who you did not recognize.

His eyes were a captivating shade of blue. They held a warmth and kindness that drew you in, sending a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment it felt as though the world around you had faded away leaving only you and this enigmatic stranger in a universe of your own making. But as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. Broken by the sound of laughter and music drifting through the air you tore your gaze away. Your cheeks flushed with a mixture of curiosity and excitement, heart racing with the memory of that brief but electrifying encounter.

Though you knew not who he was, nor what fate had in store for you. You couldn't shake the feeling that this chance meeting was somehow significant. And as you allowed yourself to be swept away by the joyous festivities you couldn't help but wonder about the identity of the mysterious elven stranger who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the celebration unfolded you found yourself standing beside Arwen, basking in the glow of her happiness as she greeted guests and well-wishers. The air was filled with laughter and music. The joyous atmosphere infectious as people celebrated the union of Arwen and Aragorn. But amidst the revelry your attention kept drifting back to the beautiful blonde elf who had caught your eye earlier. He stood amidst a group of guests, his presence commanding and his gaze holding a quiet intensity that seemed to draw you in.

Unable to contain your curiosity any longer you turned to Arwen with a hint of nervousness in your voice. "Arwen," you began, pointing subtly towards the mysterious elf, "who is that?"

Arwen followed your gaze, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she noticed your interest in the stranger. "Ah, him," she said, her tone tinged with mystery. "That is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas. The name echoed in your mind. Though you knew little about him there was something about the way he carried himself, the way his eyes seemed to hold a thousand untold stories that intrigued you beyond measure. As Arwen spoke of Legolas' exploits and noble deeds you found yourself captivated by the tales of his courage and valor. And though you knew it was foolish to be so taken with a stranger, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to him. Something that called to you on a level you couldn't quite understand.

With a grateful smile you thanked Arwen for indulging your curiosity. Though your mind was already consumed with thoughts of the mysterious Prince of Mirkwood. And as you turned your attention back to the festivities you couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay hidden beneath the surface of the captivating blonde elf who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere grew more relaxed. You found yourself drawn into the lively conversations and laughter that filled the air.

As if he had known your every thought, he had come right up to you. A charming smile playing on his lips as he offered you a goblet of wine. "Care for some wine, my lady?" he asked, his voice smooth and all too inviting.

Grateful for the distraction you accepted the goblet with a smile, the cool liquid soothing the nerves that had been fluttering in your stomach. "Thank you," you replied, taking a sip and relishing the taste of the rich, fruity wine.

As you savored the wine, Legolas took a seat beside you. His eyes alight with curiosity as he extended his hand in introduction. "I am Legolas," he said, his tone warm and genuine. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

You felt a rush of excitement at the sound of his name, "And I am Y/n," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness that you quickly tried to mask.

Legolas smiled warmly at you, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he raised his own goblet in a silent toast. "Well then, Y/n, here's to new acquaintances and delightful conversations," he spoke.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Legolas. His easy charm and quick wit putting you at ease. Despite your initial nervousness you soon found yourself laughing and chatting with him as if you had known each other for years. With each passing moment you felt yourself growing more and more enchanted by Legolas. His presence filling you with a sense of warmth and belonging that you hadn't felt in a long time. Not since before your sister had set sail. And as you shared stories and laughter with the captivating Prince of Mirkwood you couldn't help but wonder what adventures lay in store for you both in the days to come.

When the topic turned to your family, you couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension, unsure of how he would react upon learning the truth. "Your parents must be proud of you," Legolas remarked, his voice sincere as he glanced around at the grandeur of Minas Tirith. "To have a daughter as kind and courageous as you."

You smiled, touched by his words. Though a part of you hesitated to reveal your true lineage. "Thank you, Legolas," you replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "My parents... they are indeed proud, though our family is not without its complexities."

Legolas cocked his head with curiosity shining bright in his eyes. "Complexities?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for his reaction. "My parents are Celeborn and Galadriel," you confessed, watching closely for any sign of recognition or judgment in his expression.

To your surprise, Legolas' eyes widened in genuine surprise, his gaze softening with understanding. "Galadriel," he murmured, a hint of awe in his voice. "The Lady of Light herself. And Celeborn, the Lord of Lothlórien."

You nodded, relieved by his reaction. "Yes, though our family is not without its challenges," you admitted, your voice growing quiet. "There are... tensions between my parents and certain others in Middle-earth." You knew he knew, and he knew you knew. The two of you were dancing around your parents disdain for the other.

Legolas' expression grew somber. A shadow passing over his features. "I understand," he said, his tone tinged with empathy. "My own father, Thranduil, can be... difficult at times."

You felt a surge of empathy for Legolas knowing all too well the challenges that could arise from strained familial relationships. "It seems we are not so different after all," you said. A small smile playing at your lips.

Legolas returned your smile, his eyes warm and understanding. "Indeed," he said, his voice gentle. "But perhaps together, we can find a way to bridge the divide between our families."

Touched by his sincerity you could only keep grinning at him like a fool. "I would like that, Legolas," you replied. Your heart swelled with gratitude for the bond that was beginning to form between you.

As the night wore on into the wee hours of the morning you and Legolas found yourselves drawn deeper into each other's company. The hours quickly slipping away unnoticed as you laughed and talked beneath the starlit sky. The connection between you grew stronger with each passing moment. A bond of friendship and understanding blossoming into something deeper and more profound. Unfortunately, the celebration began to wind down. You found yourselves reluctant to part ways. The prospect of saying goodbye filling you with a sense of melancholy. "Perhaps we could extend our stay in Minas Tirith," Legolas suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of worry as if you wouldn’t accept. "There is still so much more to see and do. I have not seen this city without war disparaging it."

You nodded eagerly, the idea of spending more time with Legolas filling you with a sense of joy and excitement. "I would like that very much," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There is still so much more we have yet to see. You distracted me tonight."

And so, you and Legolas remained in Minas Tirith for longer than planned, seizing every opportunity to steal away moments alone together amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. Whether wandering the streets hand in hand or sharing quiet conversations in secluded corners. Each moment spent in Legolas' company felt like a precious treasure, a memory to be cherished for eternity.

As your extended stay in Minis Tirith came to an end the bond between you and Legolas deepened further than you could have imagined. Your hearts intertwining in a dance as old as time itself. One evening beneath the stars after your going away dinner the two of you sat together in the quiet solitude of the gardens, surrounded by the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle hum of crickets. The words you had been longing to say spilled forth from your lips.

"Legolas," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "there is something I must confess to you." It truly was now or never for you did not know the next time you would see the elf that had captured your heart so quickly.

Legolas turned to you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Yes, Y/n?" he replied, his voice soft and reassuring.

"I know this is quick,” you began, your voice soft and hesitant, "And we tend to do this slow, but I must admit... I really like you. More than a friend would."

You glanced away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you awaited his response. But when you dared to meet his gaze once more you found Legolas looking at you with a tender smile. His eyes filled with a warmth that mirrored your own feelings.

"Y/n," he said softly, reaching out to gently take your face in his hand, "your honesty means the world to me. I too have come to care for you deeply as well. As more than a friend would."

Your heart soared at his words. A sense of joy flooding through you at the knowledge that your feelings were reciprocated. And as you sat together in the quiet beauty of the gardens you knew that your bond with Legolas was something truly special. It was the beginning of a love story that was just beginning to unfold.

You didn’t want the night to end so you kept your wandering through the gardens. "Legolas," you began, your voice tinged with concern, "what do you think about... our families?"

Legolas glanced at you. His gaze thoughtful. "Ah, our esteemed parents," he replied with a wry smile. "Stubborn as ancient oaks and twice as difficult to move."

You couldn't help but laugh at his analogy, feeling a sense of relief at his lighthearted approach to the situation. "Yes, that's one way to put it," you agreed. A smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"But," Legolas continued, his tone turning more serious, "I believe they will come around in time. After all, love has a way of softening even the hardest of hearts."

You nodded feeling a flicker of hope kindling within you. "I hope you're right," you replied, leaning closer to him. "I just want them to see... how much we care for each other."

Legolas placed a comforting arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him. "They will, Y/n," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "And until then, we'll just have to prove them wrong together."

As your time in Minas Tirith drew to a close, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was time for your parents and Legolas to meet. Despite the tension between your families, you were determined to show them that love knew no bounds, and that their differences could be set aside in the name of happiness.

On the morning that both of you were to depart you knew what you had to do. "Legolas," you began. Your voice tinged with nervousness, "I know it's unconventional, but... what if you and your father were to visit Lothlórien?"

Legolas blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by your suggestion. "Visit Lothlórien?" he echoed, his brow furrowing in thought. "It's an... intriguing idea, Y/n, but I'm not sure how my father would feel about it."

You nodded, understanding Legolas' reservations. "I know it's a risk," you admitted, "but I believe that if he could experience the beauty and hospitality of Lothlórien for himself, he might begin to understand... and perhaps even appreciate our way of life."

Legolas considered your words for a moment before a smile spread across his face. "You may be right, Y/n," he said, his eyes alight with excitement. "Let's extend the invitation to my father and see what he says."

With a renewed sense of hope, you and Legolas set about preparing for Thranduil's visit to Lothlórien. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were determined to show both him and your parents that love could conquer even the deepest of divides. And so, with hearts full of anticipation and determination, you bid farewell to Minas Tirith. You knew that a new chapter of your journey was about to begin.

As Legolas and an initially reluctant Thranduil arrived in Lothlórien, the tension between them was palpable. Thranduil's expression was stoic and reserved, while Legolas wore a strained smile who was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. You greeted them warmly, hoping to ease the atmosphere, but even your efforts seemed to fall flat in the face of the lingering animosity between your parents. The initial interactions were awkward only filled with polite but strained conversation and forced smiles.

But as the evening progressed and the wine flowed freely the atmosphere began to shift. Your parents, Thranduil, and Legolas found themselves gradually relaxing in each other's company. The rigid barriers between them slowly melting away under the influence of hope after the war and shared experiences. You watched with a mixture of joy and relief as the tension dissipated, replaced by laughter and genuine conversation. Thranduil who had initially been so guarded found himself opening up. He began to share stories and jokes with Celeborn and Galadriel as if they were old friends.

And Legolas, too, seemed to come alive in the warmth of his father’s acceptance. His smile growing more genuine with each passing moment. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders finally allowing him to truly be himself in their presence. He chuckled at one of Thranduil's jokes and clinked glasses with Celeborn, a genuine smile gracing his features.

In the midst of the conversation Legolas turned to you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Meleth nin," he said softly, his voice filled with utmost warmth.

As Legolas inadvertently uttered the Elvish endearment, my love, the words hung in the air laden with the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart skipped a beat at his slip-up, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through you.

"Really?" you exclaimed. Your eyes widened with surprise and utmost delight. For a moment you almost forgot that your parents and Legolas' father were present too caught up in the rush of emotion that swept over you.

Legolas blinked, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he realized what he had said in front of the parents. "I... uh, I mean..." he stammered, clearly flustered by your reaction.

But before he could finish, Thranduil let out a soft chuckle. The elvenking’s eyes twinkling with amusement. "It seems our children are more than just friends," he remarked to your parents. His tone surprisingly light-hearted.

You turned to your parents with a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I guess we should have mentioned that sooner," you admitted feeling a surge of relief as you saw their understanding smiles.

Celeborn and Galadriel exchanged knowing glances before Celeborn spoke up. "Love has a way of revealing itself in unexpected ways," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "We are happy for you both."

Thranduil let out a small chuckle. His eyes crinkling with amusement. "Young love," he said before shaking his head in mock exasperation. "It seems like only yesterday that Legolas was just a boy chasing after butterflies in the woods."

Legolas rolled his eyes playfully at his father's comment. "I assure you, Ada, I have grown up a bit since then," he spoke. His tone teasing but affectionate.

Celeborn chuckled softly his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Indeed," he agreed, his voice warm. "But some things never change." He motioned to you with a knowing grin.

And as the tension melted away completely, replaced by laughter, and shared understanding, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unwavering support of your parents. With their blessing and acceptance, you and Legolas knew that your love story was only just beginning. You were finally destined to have a beautiful and unforgettable journey filled with laughter, joy, and the sweet promise of a future together. You had waited a long time for this. A very long time.

As the night grew deeper and the fire crackled softly, you and Legolas found yourselves immersed in a comfortable silence. The two of you basking in the warmth of each other's presence. Legolas turned to you with a playful glint in his eyes, taking your hand in his. "Well, my dear, it seems the hour grows late," he remarked, his voice soft and warm.

You nodded feeling a surge of affection for the elf beside you. "Yes, it does," you replied, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

With a gentle tug on your hand Legolas rose to his feet pulling you up with him. "Allow me to escort you to your room," he said. His voice filled with gentle sincerity.

You followed him, the touch of his hand sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. As you reached your door, Legolas turned to you. His eyes sparkling with mischief. "Until next time, meleth nin," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before turning to leave.

A faint blush coated your cheeks at his actions. “Until next time, meleth nin.” You repeated. You watched him go with a smile playing at your lips as you realized that no matter what adventures lay ahead, you would face them with him. Oh, what a life.

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thesoftboiledegg · 5 months

Text

"Fear No Mort" was constant whiplash. In fact, I struggled to evaluate this episode at first because it was one twist after another. Throughout the episode, I had flashbacks to "M. Night Shaym-Aliens!" (the rap scene might've been a direct reference) and the Rickbot reveal in "Ricktional Mortpoon's Rickmas Mortcation."

For better or worse, season seven's had a lot of callbacks and episodes that mirrored previous ones: "That's Amorte" played out like "Mortynight Run"; "Air Force Wong" brought together Dr. Wong, the president and Unity; "Rise of the Numbericons: The Movie" was a "Get Schwifty" sequel.

Seasons six and seven have also piled on the fanservice. The first four seasons stubbornly refused to give us what we want, dangling fan theories or a gentler Rick in our faces before yanking it away. Rick started to change in season five, but it's another ten episodes before you get Rick in a suit and tie, Rick announcing that Rickcest is canon, Rick regularly going to therapy, Space Beth joining the family and other content that's floated around the fandom since 2017.

And let's not forget the big one: C-137 Rick and Morty, Prime Rick and Evil Morty in one episode, fighting and teaming up after we saw Evil Morty's once-forbidden backstory.

Some call it cheap thrills, but I call it a gift to the fandom that's patiently waited for the fakeouts to end. And now that I've said that: "Fear No Mort" was one giant fakeout.

But was it, though?

This is the most unpopular opinion in the world, but I'm not invested in Rick and Diane's relationship. As a gay woman, I just don't connect with opposite-gender couples. Also, I dislike the trope of the idolized dead wife that the audience only learns about through her widower. She's not her own character, just an extension of the male protagonist.

When the fake Rick and Diane reconnected, I thought "Oh boy, this is getting cheesy." They're falling for each other again: check. Rick feels guilty about her death: check. We see how similar they are: check. Rick doesn't want to leave: aaaand, check.

I'm also a little lost after the ending. Morty was the only one in the hole, so why did we see all these scenes from fake Rick's perspective? Was an NPC really that busy?

How much we learned about Diane is debatable, too, since Morty never met her. I guess his ideas came from whatever Rick's told him and maybe the ship's voice since she's based on Diane.

I did like how the episode kept reminding us that Morty's still in the Fear Hole. I mean, we didn't know that, but we knew that. No "Are they in the Fear Hole or not??" until all the twists in the third act.

Aside from that, I don't want the show to revisit the past too much because Rick needs to let go. If you're a Marvel fan, you saw the backlash to Steve Rogers traveling back in time to spend a lifetime with Peggy in "Endgame." He had a life in the present, but he refused to move on.

Nostalgia makes us yearn for earlier years, but if Rick abandoned his family to live with Diane in another reality, I wouldn't call that a sweet ending. I'd call that a disappointment and a waste of his character.

Turns out, Rick never had that option at all.

Well...in a way, he did. And when Morty told him what he saw in the Fear Hole, Rick ran back to the restroom. He looked into the hole. He thought about it. And then he did what I wanted him to do, which was walk away. In this moment, he chose the present.

Admittedly, Morty's fear came true: Rick didn't jump in the hole after him, he did just sit there and watch, and he didn't want to say that Morty's irreplaceable out loud. Plus, Rick was bewildered when Morty hugged him. But for the first time, instead of standing stiffly or gently pushing him away, Rick started to hug him back.

We also saw what Morty didn't: Rick smiling to himself after hanging up the picture of Morty that he kept in his wallet. He had the chance to wallow in shadows of the past, but he didn't take it. Rick chose him.

"Fear No Mort" could've ended with Rick just saying "Let's go" and leaving, but it didn't. Seasons one and two Rick would've bitched and moaned about Morty taking so long. Season three Rick would've left him there for a while to torment him. Season four Rick would've found a way to take advantage of this.

But seasons five, six, seven? That's real character development. That's what all the Twitter users saying "Wow, Rick and Morty is actually good" have been missing out on.

And for the first time in the series, a season didn't end with Rick relapsing or getting a (well-deserved) ass kicking. Is Morty going to get the grandfather that he deserves? Or will he move on, too, now that Rick's releasing his iron grip? Speculating is fun, but for now, let's focus on today.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #diane sanchez #fear no mort #season seven #review

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marciabrady · 8 months

Text

it's so funny to me that the princess our culture associates fundamentally with passivity offers credos which are among the most active and powerful of any in the fairytale canon

first and foremost, cinderella communicates that we all are what we contribute.

cinderella saves the mice and fosters an environment of collaboration, harmony, and unity that's harbored by her own industrious nature. mind you, she does all of this against her stepfamily's wishes, actively defying them, and creating a counterculture in the process.

as the story team intended the animals to be a reflection of their human counterpart, notice how cinderella's kindred are uniformly hardworking, intentionally kind, and approach every situation with their best foot forward, adapting a problem-solving mindset that collectively aids them all in their shared progression toward the betterment of themselves and the world around them. take the very first scene in which we see cinderella and the culture she's created, for instance:

everyone has a hand in the first chores of the day and they're all choosing to do it with a smile on their face. key word: choosing. because this isn't an idly happy lot whose joy is an accident of their own nature or something that's easy. their happiness is something they have to be mindful of and, in many cases, fight against themselves to achieve. because, guess what? their life is terrible. they've been reduced to living in a dusty attic room of a decaying house. many of them were saved from death by cinderella, herself, and know that if they venture too far outside of the safe quarters she's provided, or if they allow themselves to be seen in some way, they'll be back at death's doorstep. the danger and stress they live under would cause anyone to snap, or anyone to never want to get out of bed, which is why we see them looking like this in one of the most relatable openings of all time:

i mean, cinderella canonically hits the snooze button:

the birds literally have to force her to wake up, initially:

and once she does wake up, she's playful and pleasant and kind, yes. but that doesn't last long- the clock immediately tries her by reminding her of the daily toil she must face in order to maintain the food and shelter that's tantamount to, not only her own survival, but that of this tiny community that she's the unofficial mayor over and continues to be responsible for. she has to sustain herself and the others she's collected around her by choosing to live life the way she does. this kindness is something she has to pay for, every day. and she physically snarls at being reminded of the hand life's dealt her:

and you know what? that's a very human quality that everyone can identify with in some regard because it's hard, even if you are someone who loves life and the people around you, to keep going in spite of the challenges you face. being positive, plainly put, is something that's difficult and you have to keep reengaging yourself to be because it isn't a natural state for most people, and especially not people that have been treated as unkindly as cinderella. let's not forget that she lost both of her parents at a young, formative age, and from that time in her youth when, like all other children, she deserved to be supported and loved and protected, she was literally "abused, humiliated" and "forced" into being a literal "servant in her own house." she had no security- both of her parents were gone, she had no money to fall back on, no education, no means with which to leave the house, and to try to get a job in that world and environment- as unlikely as it would've been to obtain in the first place (which, again is so relatable- look at the staffing shortages and people struggling to find employment today)- would've been contingent upon references of some sort, and we all know that lady tremaine definitely would've either a) ran a smear campaign against cinderella to absolve herself and the family name of any personal fault or b) prevented cinderella from ever leaving in the first place so that no one would ever know that atrocities the tremaines forced her to endure from the time she was practically an infant.

she wakes up after barely being able to sleep, probably, due to all the daily chores she must, alone, accomplish to keep an entire estate afloat. everyone is depending on her, from the stepfamily to the mice to the grounds of her family's home itself. her body's practically aching from the lack of rest, the physical work she's forced to do every day, from sleeping on such an uncomfortable bed. the only place she feels remotely safe is in this drafty attic, which smells of fraying wood and aging artifacts and is in a constate state of decay, with weeds growing in the sides of the tower. that's not even mentioning the emotional turmoil, the ptsd, the grief, the neglect, the physical abuse she's also processing at any given moment

so, yeah, cinderella snaps. and there are times she snaps later on in the film but she always reels herself in and consciously makes the choice to never succumb to her circumstances. this is what makes cinderella extraordinary. she singlehandedly- and actively- ends the cycle of abuse through the behavior and choices she partakes in every single day.

and, again, this isn't something that's easy for someone who has been in survival mode for a majority of their life. but the conscious choices, active efforts, and mindful decisions cinderella makes is what frees the household from that cycle of abuse continuing. i mentioned earlier that the animals are supposed to be a parallel to their human counterparts. remember how we meet gus? he's just been caught in a trap, doesn't have anything to wear, and is literally recoiling in fear. due to his terror and his own need to defend himself out of instinct, he attempts to make himself come off as threatening as possible and is ready to pop off the minute that jaq approaches him:

but, through cinderella's influence, she's able to give him hope once more. she treats him warmly, pairs him up with a buddy to go through life with, comes up with a name- and even a nickname- for him, gives him a community, a safe haven, and clothes him. in that short time, look at the difference she's made in his mood, his demeanor, even his approach to life:

and it isn't just the mice cinderella's this way with. in the opening slides, we see cinderella holding an adorable puppy dog. but as the film progresses, and the narrator details the despair the family estate has fallen into, that puppy dog turns into an old, starved bloodhound who's secretly sleeping on the floor of the cold kitchen to keep from freezing to death. he has to keep even his dreams to himself so as to not be heard by the stepfamily and potentially kicked out. he openly hates lucifer but cinderella encourages him to think of lucifer's good points too, even if she can't think of any herself, to be able to continue successfully cohabiting this environment with him. and when he pounces on lucifer, deserved or not, she puts an end to this:

because cinderella knows what will ever happen if bruno allows himself to give into his impulses, to treat others as life has treated him, to attempt to retaliate in an impossible environment when the odds are already against you. you'll harm yourself the most and perpetuate that cycle.

but, just as bruno is a reflection of cinderella, notice how gleeful lucifer is in falsely incriminating bruno, so that another being who's never wronged him will be unjustly punished and suffer:

this is what separates cinderella from the tremaines. this is why she is the heroine and they will never be, despite how many people you see empathizing with how unfairly life must've treated them for being the "conventionally unattractive" characters in the film, or for having a single mother which to them denotes less resources, or for being awkward, or for whatever other reason of the month they're being rewritten to be the victims.

if we are the sum of our contributions, the tremaines are nothing and that is definitely a reflection of their reality. they only feel alive when they're making fun of cinderella or humiliating her by continuing that cycle of abuse they passively adhere to and never challenge. remember how we met cinderella and her friends, gathering their spirits and putting on a smile, despite how hard it is with the troubles that face them? how they look past that to work together and try to change life for the better?

the tremaines can't be bothered to get out of bed. the truly passive, lazy characters, they grog about in dim rooms, turning around in their fine silks and ornate finery, while a being they literally enslaved is being forced to do their bidding. and they refuse to actively participate in their very charmed and privileged life. they can't even find a reason to be happy- but instead are upset when cinderella enters their room. they want to know why she's taken so long, to hurry up, to continue to wait on them, hand and foot. when she asks them how they're doing, they grumble, "as if you care." because they don't care about anyone else, so why would others care about them? and that type of apathy breeds resentment, which- in the wake of such sedentary creatures- seeks manifestation and results in destruction. the stepsisters get out of their comfortable beds only when they have the opportunity to point their finger at cinderella, to get their mother to punish her. again, they feel alive by inflicting pain on others, it's literally what gets them out of bed:

again, as the parallel, this goes for lucifer, too:

as cinderella nears lady tremaine's bed, her stepmother's eyes blaze with fury, hatred plain on her face:

lady tremaine doesn't move, her hand only lifting to stroke lucifer, who has the biggest grin on his face. meanwhile, the desperation is evident in cinderella. she isn't quite defeated, because she does stick up for herself three times in the scene. but she's tired of this. she's tired of being tormented by her only family, of having the odds stacked against her even when she's doing everything in her power to live as peacefully and productively as possible, of being forced to fight a losing battle that will never result in peace but will only further prompt hatred, and division, and anger. in her expression, there's almost a plea for lady tremaine:

it isn't until she sees cinderella's expression, she hears cinderella try to explain what happened, that she livens up. because she has the opportunity to, again, keep that cycle of abuse alive, to actively try to destroy cinderella's quality of life and to profit off the position of power she's in over cinderella. look at the difference in lady tremaine's expression in the previous cap, and in this one, when she believes she's silenced cinderella and is preparing to tear into her:

one of the best instances through which i can further illustrate this ideology (you are what you contribute) is in a later scene, where we see the stepsisters discard their fine wares, labeling it trash and flinging the luxuries life's afforded them to scorn. it's nothing to them.

yet, to the mice and cinderella, it isn't nothing. because, remember, the royal proclamation declared that every eligible maiden should attend. at first, the stepmother refuses to let cinderella go and even the stepsisters brush her aside with classist comments. when cinderella sticks up for herself by reminding them she's still a member of the family, and by trapping them in the language of the royal decree "every eligible maiden," lady tremaine has no choice but to consent- on the grounds that cinderella is able to make herself eligible through producing a suitable dress. because, remember, cinderella isn't seen as a person. she's seen as subhuman, someone who's reduced to wearing tatters and isn't seen as a person in the eyes of their society unless she has social indicators of wealth via her clothing, in this specific instance. drizella and anastasia never have to think about that, because they exist as people of value in their society due to their good fortune that they had no part in creating. they don't know what it's like to be laughed at, to not be considered eligible or even a person in the eyes of society the way that cinderella's lived experience has reflected since her father died. meanwhile, the tremaines are so deep in their own privilege, that they're literally waving it around like it's a rag and carelessly tossing it away. yet, what does cinderella do, with much less?

cinderella makes do with what little she has, always to help someone else. and because of this active kindness, it changes the mindset of those around her. since she's afforded this to so many of the mice, what do they do for her in return?

what a difference in how cinderella and the stepfamily approaches what's, essentially, the same material? and this community that cinderella has established and continually maintained and influenced comes to each other's aid, time and time again. whether it's cinderella freeing the mice from death, or giving them clothing, or allowing bruno to sleep inside unbeknownst to the stepfamily, or the mice turning into a LITERAL army and battleground in cinderella's honor:

again, this community is just as active and vital as cinderella, herself, is. because those values i mentioned earlier, of helping one another and rising above your circumstances and working together, aren't just whimsical morals cinderella sings about. they're constant behaviors she's actively taking part in and impact the household they all share, to the point where when they help each other take action when the time is right. they're constantly conferring with one another on how to best use their community and the resources this offers to get closer to victory. (meanwhile, the stepfamily is only for themselves; anastasia and drizella literally repeatedly hit each other and compete, even to the point of giving conflicting stories to the grand duke that makes their pathetic attempt seem all the more discreditable at alleging they were the princess at the ball the night before) we see it in how cinderella and her friends accomplish their chores together, in how the mice plan to get her dress remade while she's busy, even in how cinderella's quick thinking leads to calling upon bruno, who must be awoken by the birds with an interjecting call from the horse, and how this leads to all of their escape:

because, this community also knows when it to fight and support one another in times of battle and when the goal will bring about a victory that will ultimately reign peace; they know when it's worth it for a shared goal and the benefit of all parties involved. and the difference cinderella brought into that household is what gave them all glory and helped them, not only survive, but succeed. it isn't just the poor scullery maid we see ascend in the closing chapter of the film. we see the same bluebirds who attempted to wake her up in the beginning of the film holding her wedding veil:

we see those same mice that she nursed from death, and clothed, and fed, and loved; the mice that risked their lives in remaking her deceased mother's dress so that cinderella might, too, have a chance to go to the ball; they're still here, cheering her on and throwing rice in blessing at the happy couple, their own clothing being upgraded to reflect that of the royal staff:

we see that starved bloodhound and the old horse leading the royal regiment, as beautiful and shining and proud as their majestic counterparts:

and this is the world that cinderella, as a character, offers. not a world in which multiple parties are at competition with one another over who's the prettiest, or the wealthiest, or where hatred breeds continual hatred. but she presents us a world in which everyone deserves to be seen, heard and valued; where everyone can find a community they can contribute to and have purpose in and be worthy of experiencing love, whatever you determine love to be whether it's romantic or in the form of a found family.

a world in which everyone can go to the ball:

#mine #marciabrady #cinderella #cinderella 1950 #this was supposed to be 2 credos but i got carried away #maybe i'll write the other one in a future installment #but ahhh it feels so nice to be back #*ahem* if you learned anything from this or were inspired please source or credit #creative larceny isn't cool!

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 6 months

Text

Undead Heart

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.4K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: necromancy, defensive reader, Astarion being a supportive little baby (he is so precious), doubt, reassurance, flufffff, kinda angst? idk

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Astarion laid his head on your chest, smushing his face in for good measure. You let out a breathy laugh. It was still early, the birds hadn’t graced the winds with their songs yet. The sun hadn’t peeked over the horizon to start the new day. You held Astarion close, one hand gently caressing his soft curls at the base of his neck - the other drawing circles on his bicep that was holding your waist. For a creature who didn’t sleep he appeared pretty dead to the world currently. You listened to the little breaths that left his mouth. You watched his eyes move beneath his closed lids. You loved looking at him, especially when he was like this. His face was calm and smoothed over with rest. Nothing could hurt him here, you wouldn’t let it.

“Staring is rude.” he mumbled into your chest, somewhere between sleep and wake.

“It’s not staring, it’s admiring.” you whispered into his ear, kissing the side of his face softly. You could feel a begrudging smile form on his face for a moment before his breathing evened out again.

You slowly slipped away from him. You were a necromancer, of unknown origin. Your past was muddled but you had found histories of yourself at the citadel from the far reaches of Faerun. You had lived a life. Full of good and bad but your future was yours alone to define. You were ancient, you never aged. The years, for the most part, had been kind to you. Your powers were unmatched and your beauty was unparalleled. Slipping out of the tent you walked out of camp through the fog of the early morning. You could feel the sweet dewdrops kissing your feet as you walked barefoot to the cemetery you had passed yesterday before setting up camp. The souls there called to you. They wished to be released, to visit one another after an eternity apart. As you walked to the center of the graveyard you felt your powers start to flow from your palms. Black smoke and glowing green light emanated from you, swirling and twisting about. Figures started to arise from the graves, transparent and ghostly. You kept your concentration as the ghosts mingled. Laughing and dancing with one another as if they were in the midst of a ball. Your power enveloped the graveyard in a shimmering light, as if millions of little sparkles had graced the small event you created. You walked through the endless rows of graves, quietly admiring everyone. Out of all the things you could do with your abilities, this was always your favorite. Reuniting old friends, families, lovers. Even some enemies who decided to call truces due to their undead circumstances. Everyone always looked so happy, so relieved. The ghosts could see you just as you could see them. One floated through you before another held your hand, spinning you about to the quiet tune that drifted through the air. An enthusiastic bard playing his instrument, as if he had never put it down all those centuries ago. You knew the sight was strange, and that people often found you strange yourself. Death did not scare you. You were its equal and enjoyed teetering that otherworldly line.

You had never shown this power to Astarion, concerned he would find it odd. You had been together for a few months. He knew you were ancient and powerful but beyond that you tried to be quite vague. You continued to smile and laugh amongst the ghosts, feeling relieved to use your powers. In battle you were skilled with necrotic and psychic attacks along with general melee fighting but this is truly what you enjoyed using your powers for. Bringing peace, unity. After a while though, the air shifted. You felt eyes watching you. You searched for the source, eyes finding a very much awake Astarion leaning against the graveyard gate.You jumped, sucking in a shocked gasp. You made the shimmer fade, the swirling slow, the smoke dissipate. The ghosts slowly drift back to their respective graves, solemn looks on their faces. No amount of time living or dead would be long enough with each other. And yet, you felt their appreciation radiate to you. You felt pale, almost sickly. Astarion was going to think you were some sort of freak, you just knew it. You slowly made your way to him, keeping your head low and arms tight across your chest to protect yourself from some unknown threat.

Astarion’s face wore a slight frown, his eyebrows drawn up in a furrow “Little love, whatever could be the matter?”

Your heart raced at the pet name. “How long have you been standing there?” you asked, walking past him, heading back to camp.

He trailed after you, “Long enough. You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” he quipped. There was no malice in his tone, nor teasing but it made you cringe internally anyways.

“I wish you hadn’t.” you whispered, walking into your tent.

Astarion felt confused, he tried to follow you into your tent but was stopped by a similar shimmering force at the entrance of your tent. He stepped back, he could still see and hear you but he couldn’t get to you, couldn’t touch you.

“I would like to be alone.” you said picking up a book and sitting down, eyes never meeting him.

“Darling…” Astarion said quietly, noticing a few tears on your face. “Please let me in.”

“Why?” you spat, you wanted to fill your heart with anger in preparation for the negativity you were sure you were about to receive.

“I let you in.” he spoke softly, you knew he wasn’t just talking about his tent. He had shown you every facet of himself, the least you could do was let him into your damn tent.

He slowly pulled the book from your hands as he sat down, attempting to take them in his own. You pulled away quickly, crossing your arms over your chest. He felt a pang of hurt within him but pushed it aside. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Well, get on with it…” you huffed out shakily.

“I have to say… that was pretty powerful magic you were doing back there…” you snorted a bit at his comment. ‘If only you knew’ you thought.

“Freaky, right? Strange? Unnatural? Unholy?” you rambled off sounding angrier by the second. Your walls were building back up at breakneck speed, preparing for the worst.

“My sweet, why do you sound so upset? I thought what you were doing was quite… amazing. Honestly… everyone looked so elated, thanks to you.” your eyes flicked to his.

“I know it’s weird to be so… involved with the dead. I never wanted you to see me doing anything like that… but they sounded so sad, so lonely…” you tried to explain yourself.

Astarion chuckled, causing you to snap your head up. “My precious, you do realize I am undead? I think I might understand better than anyone why you wanted to give those souls a reprieve. It was… sweet of you.” he smiled at you tentatively, hesitantly going for your hand. He smoothed his thumb over the back of it.

You wanted to trust him, to believe him. Yet a voice still tugged at your mind. “You think so?” you whispered.

“Darling you gave them a few minutes of life, do you know how sacred that must be for them? And you did it out of the kindness of your heart. Now that, is truly meaningful. That shows the soul you possess.” Astarion moved his other hand to cup your cheek, tilting your face to be level with his.

Your eyes were glossy, “I just don’t want to be too different. Too strange.”

“You are quite strange… it’s quite possibly my favorite thing about you.” he smiled, his fangs peaking out a bit. “Do you know why I rest on your chest so much?”

You shook your head ‘no’ at him.

“I do it so I can listen to your heart. I feel almost as if mine beats with yours for the first time in centuries when I hear it. Strong. Compassionate. Wonderful.” you tilted your head into his hand, kissing his palm.

“I love you.” you said quietly.

Astarion smiled, you had only said those words to each other once before when your emotions became too much to hold inside.

“And I you, endlessly my strange little love.” he kissed you deeply yet gently before laying you both down. He settled in his usual spot, listening to your heart. Strong, even, calm.

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Naboo's Note:

Hello! I hope everyone likes this piece, it came to me suddenly as I am in fact writing and posting it at damn near 2 AM #worthit. I think I might try to write another this weekend but I work tomorrow and have been pretty exhausted (mentally and physically) as of late so idk, no promises. Anyways - thanks for all the likes comments, reblogs, and requests! Ilysm xoxoxoxo, talk soon.

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radioisntdead · 1 month

Text

Maybe one day I could learn to love you..

Alastor x reader, Human au!

Summary:

Alastor and reader are put in an arranged marriage and, one of them falls and the other doesn't know where he stands.

Warnings!

Murder, death, inaccurate portrayal of the 1920's??, OOC, this was edited but there are probably misspellings around, not beta read [How do I acquire a beta reader??] Me projecting my Aroace vibes onto the reader and Alastor, reader is implied to be afab (is that the right term?) because 1920's but GN, also reader is put in a wedding dress.

Song

You and Alastor didn't know each other super well, you knew each other well enough to be friends but not super close, the only way the two of you even met was because his mother was a close friend of yours,

The two of you were "getting up there in age." and "should marry soon."

Frankly neither of you wanted to get married but you couldn't exactly express that to your folks, and Alastor couldn't bare to see his mother sad that she wouldn't be able to see her only child start a family.

There was only so many times you could use the "haven't met the right person'' excuse before they decided to set you and Alastor up.

You and Alastor sat at a café to see how things play out and long story short agreed that it would be beneficial for the two of you to wed, a marriage of convenience.

His mother would be satisfied in thinking her son wouldn't be alone when she was gone, and your parents wouldn't nag at you, saying you'd become a spinster.

You sat in a dressing room, in a beautiful white dress, your mother was right outside along with a few family members, you could barely make out their voices saying how excited they were.

You looked into the mirror, your makeup was beautifully done, hair done up like a princess's

Anxiety filled you, you wondered if you would feel like this if you were marrying someone you had romantic feelings for?

You shook your head and took a deep breath, standing up you opened the door, being greeted by smiling faces.

Can we become we,

You walked down the aisle, a painted smile plastered on your face.

No longer known as just you and me

Alastor continually smiled, not breaking it as the two of you exchanged vows.

he gently took your hand and slid the ring onto your finger, taking a moment to lift your hand and kiss it,

You could hear a few folks in attendance cooing at the action, you could already hear the on-coming whispers of how 'in love' the two of you seemed.

Two separate lives now in unity

"You may now kiss the bride."

It was quick, a small peck before turning around to face your loved ones and others that were invited.

Stuck here together but

Unease filled you as the reception came to an end, after the concerning amount of dancing and drinking, it was time for them to bid the two of you farewell for your honeymoon, you hugged your parents goodbye, he did the same with his mother and the two of you stepped into the car and there you went.

Will this always be just an arrangement

You were uneasy as you got ready for bed, silently praying that you wouldn't have to do anything, but preparing yourself for the possibly that you would just have to grin and bare it, lay back and disassociate.

Thankfully nothing happened, Alastor bid you a goodnight and promptly passed out.

And neither of you brought it up, consummating your marriage was never a topic between you, and for that the two of you were secretly relieved.

You were glad you married Alastor out of all people. [Said no one ever]

Can we become more

As time went on you and Alastor became closer, and feelings began to consume you, sneaking in slowly, it started with you noting how Alastor preferred more bitter or savory foods as opposed to sweets, or how he preferred black coffee to tea.

It was the 1920's, you didn't have a term for what you were back then, and so you thought you were just not meant to be in love, that maybe something was wrong with you? Why weren't you wired like your peers were? You thought that maybe you were too young for feelings like that but you realized that wasn't the case as you grew

You remember talking with your friends, and while they were more prone to crushes or saying what they would do to someone based off their appearance, you always felt a little odd, you were reassured by them saying maybe you just had higher standards, or just hadn't met the right person yet,

But that didn't really explain the fact that you didn't look at a person and think that you wanted to bed them

Than half of a union we’re chosen for?

Alastor had a similar experience, although he had been different in other ways, after all he did killed people so that probably had an effect on it (it probably did but not in this case)

His dear mama just told him he hadn't met the right person yet, and he didn't have a reason not to believe his mother.

On his side he was going to avoid it as long as he could, and he did until he was matched up with you, and wedded.

It not only gave him a cover, you were a perfect alibi, it gave his mama peace of mind.

You were a good companion as well, you weren't overly touchy, you were smart and had your wits about, you could keep up with him,

You became a good friend who he just so happened to wed.

Where I am your best half

The romantic feelings you felt you clung onto desperately, afraid that if you let them go you'd never be able to feel them again, after all where would you find someone like Alastor? [In a Prison probably]

Not to mention the two of you were already married so that was already a done deal, this is the best situation to be in, right? Falling in love with a person you were already married to?

And I am yours

Your affections became more obvious by the day, lingering touches, acts of service becoming more frequent, spending more time together.

For Alastor it was becoming harder to hide the Blood stains that would get on his shirts from you.

Stuck here forever and hopefully not ending in estrangement

Alastor's mother absolutely adored you, you were a decent person, loving and caring to her son, not to mention you were such a sweetheart to her, helping her in the kitchen, helping her move around as it got harder to do in her old age.

It’s the step of faith, We have to take sometimes

His Ma sat him down one day while you were out running errands, telling him to cherish you more,

Not wanting to disappoint his ma, he slowly but surely began to return your affections a bit more, not by much but a little bit more.

If I’m, with you, I can take it

The two of you would go dancing at the speakeasy Mimzy worked at, cook together, he'd murder people behind your back, the two of you would spend time together doing projects like puzzles.

But if we are one, What happens to you and I

Alastor's mother started getting sick.

It started with a cough, which she dismissed to you and Alastor as just a cold, that didn't stop the two of you from making her meals and making her rest but it got worse, the cough turned into hacking late at night and struggling to breathe.

If I’m, with you, I will make it

The doctors couldn't do much, only suggesting medicines that would give her relief.

Will this always be just an arrangement? We’ll find out in time if we don’t break it

You were there with her, at one side while Alastor was at her other, Alastor held her hand as she breathed her last breath.

Can mine become yours, combining our dreams

Alastor was a complete and utter mess, after all that was his mother, the person closest to him besides you, gone.

He would never see her again, he would move to call her and tell her good news,

She wasn't there,

He went to call her at noon like he did every day?

She wasn't there, he had to train himself to not automatically go to the phone, if he found himself dialing her telephone he'd hear the phone operator ask who he's trying to call, and he'd have a moment to remember that the person he was trying to call was no longer with them.

Without keeping score

You were a shoulder to cry on, helping him keep sane, the two of you grieved for his mother together, you helped plan a great funeral, sparing no expense she was practically a second mother to you after all.

Always together, but never bored, No choice in the matter but

The world didn't end when his mother died, he was lucky enough to get a few weeks off but Radio waits for no one, and he was needed back.

This will never work without each other

He went to work, you'd listen in on the radio while doing whatever you did, working, vibing, I don't know what you did for a living.

Can we become we, start a new line on this family tree

Things healed, they would never be the same, obviously you can't bring back the dead, but things were okay, the two of you had each other especially after the stock market crash and everything that followed,

Two hearts connected by one beat

You had a special place in Alastor's twisted murdery heart, it was likely that Alastor wouldn't return your affections, but that was alright, you were content staying near him.

Your hand in mine and

The two of you were dancing, he held your hand as he twirled you around, looking into his eyes with your own lovesick ones you smiled

"I could never choose to love another"

It slipped out, it took the two of you a moment to process it, Alastor let out a sigh, a twinge of guilt? Or something else flashed in his eyes

"Maybe one day I can learn to love you, too."

One day would never come through, for your life was cut short before Alastor's, a bad flu had taken you out, folks often forget how deadly the flu can be.

Alastor was by your side as you breathed your last.

The world didn't stop spinning because you died, but he didn't handle it well, first his Ma and now you, two of the most important people in his life gone just like that, both taken out by some type of sickness, was this punishment for murdering people? The two innocent people he cherished perishing?

Alastor would more then likely never see you or his mother again because when he fell below you were safe and sound above.

While Alastor was clawing for power below you were living your best afterlife above, doing whatever hobbies your heart desired, moving forward with new friends, family that included Alastor's mother, and maybe a paramour? Or maybe not, you were okay with or without one.

Unfortunately for Alastor you were embedded in his memory, every once in awhile you would pop in late at night when he was trying to sleep or do something productive, plaguing his mind with what ifs.

On the other side you were blessed with ignorance, after all he couldn't haunt your memories, he couldn't pop into your mind with what ifs, and you couldn't miss Alastor if you didn't remember him.

Good evening folks! I need to quit killing the reader off, sorry this was delayed!

I was going to go a completely different direction with this but that would've had a happy ending

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader

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pigmentpoltergeist · 29 days

Text

I finished The Sunshine Court the other day and the hyper fixation is hitting, so here’s some evidence gathering for the question of what the fuck is going on with the Knox family—

Cat trips up when telling Jean how many siblings Jeremy has, tripping between the words ‘has’ and ‘3’ in a way that leaves Jean unsure what she’d had to change. This might be because of Jeremy’s boundary setting around calling his step-relatives relatives—maybe something about Cat almost not including a step sibling in the count but correcting herself because they’re in public and the Knoxs have that whole ‘public facing unity’ thing going on—but, that feels like it would be a really out of character punch for Cat to pull, especially right before insulting Bryson. I think it’s much more likely that a Knox sibling is either dead or gone—so either Cat tripped over ‘3’ and Jeremy had/has a fourth sibling, or Cat tripped over ‘has’ and there’s something going on with the other Knox brother that makes Cat double think using the present tense. But--

In the same section, when she insults Bryson, Cat says that there's bound to be a jerk or two once you pass four kids. So, my money is on there being another Knox sibling we haven't heard about yet

There are a lot of emotionally charged reactions to the way Jean talks about the Ravens/his past in the book, so this moment in chapter ten doesn't get a lot of focus from Jean's pov, but Jeremy has a big reaction to Jean’s off-hand speculation about whether or not Grayson will kill himself. Jeremy bites back at that so hard that Cat winches. (But, that’s all she does. Cat doesn’t seem confused about the reaction at all.) This reaction from Jeremy especially stands out next to how deliberately patient Jeremy tries to be with biting back his first reaction to most of the wild information Jean keeps dropping on him. This might be a misread or a jumped-to conclusion on my part, but it feels like suicide, specifically, might be a soft spot for Jeremy. But, since Grayson is Lucas' brother, it's equally possible that, if there's a nerve being hit here, it's sibling death.

(This bit is more blind speculation on my part, but something about the impressive amount of self control Jeremy has when receiving distressing information from Jean feels like it's going to be important. Compared to Cat and Laila needing to be calmed down/stopped from reacting multiple times when getting new Jean Lore, it’s really notable how many of Jeremy’s own initial reactions we watch him bury on page—he does react to a lot, of course, but compared to the baseline regular/not in-the-know-about-the-mafia-shit characters, Jeremy manages himself weirdly well. He seems to have an amount of practice in emotional self control that is notable, is what I'm saying, especially in scenes like the conversation in the book store where he keeps clenching his knuckles white and almost snapping coat hangers and just. Carrying on the conversation until an emotion like concern or shock stops him in his tracks. Combined with that line Cat has about how Jeremy is living proof that “the right therapist can be life changing”, my money’s on Jeremy having had some serious anger issues at some point; probably high school, considering what he says when explaining the trojans’ good sportsmenship to Jean—)

On Jean’s first night living with the trojans, Jeremy has a little monologue about how he wasn't 'born trojan’ and how his high school team encouraged competitive attitudes and insults just as badly as any other team. That monologue gets interrupted by a line about how Jeremy “clapped his hands together as if crushing his past self between the two.” That feels loaded, even if it's not out and out confirmation that Jeremy was involved in a toxic level of competitiveness/antagonism. There's something about high school Jeremy that Jeremy really doesn't like.

Whatever the big, family destroying event was, Annalise’s scene implies that it happened/came to a head at the fall banquet of Jeremy’s freshman year. (That probably means that, if any other Knox siblings were directly involved in the event, they would have needed to be invited to the banquet; either as a player or a guest.)

Annalise. Annalise has big beef with exy, and with Jeremy playing exy. Jeremy doesn’t just say that she stopped coming to his games, he says that she has gone out of her way to forget everything she ever learned about the game. That might just be hyperbole for hyperbole’s sake, but, given the fact that Jeremy says she hasn’t forgiven him for still playing the game, I feel like some of Annalise’s baggage here isn’t just that Jeremy happened to be at an exy banquet when the bad thing happened—it feels like she’s placing a share of the blame on the sport itself.

So, in terms of out and out conclusions to draw: something happened in the fall of Jeremy’s freshman year of college. This nebulous thing severed the family badly, and is also the reason that the entire sport of exy is dead to Jeremy’s sister. The Knox family lost a sibling (unless you assume that it’s specifically Jeremy’s friend group that considers him to have one less sibling, which is possible since it’s only Cat we see trip, but seems less likely to me). Finally, given Jeremy’s reaction to the Wayne/Grayson conversation, I’d be willing to bet there’s also a suicide/death at play.

(Blind guess I’m making: I think it's possible that maybe a Knox sibling killed themself because of exy. Maybe due to not getting accepted to a top rank school when their brother made it onto the second ranked school in the country off of the same high school team, maybe because of Jeremy hitting the collegent level and out performing them, maybe in part fueled by some residual animosity from a high school rivalry between themself and Jeremy. Whatever the case, it would have needed to happen in the aftermath of an altercation/argument between them and Jeremy at the fall banquet for the way Jeremy time-stamps it to make sense.

But, this is a blind guess on the heels of a first read through of the book--a book where Jeremy is going out of his way to not think about important information--so this is probably way off base. Given the way his family reacts to small things like Jeremy dying his own hair, any number of small scandals at the banquet could have been enough for them to blame him for 'breaking the family apart'.)

(Also, fully unrelated Jeremy fact that I couldn’t fit anywhere else: Jeremy’s dad is in the military and maybe alive? Given the fact that Jeremy will not call his step-grandfather his grandfather, I’m assuming his line about his dad having been stationed in Europe a few times is about his biological father, and I don’t know why he’d pick the word stationed if it wasn’t a military thing.

The way Jeremy cuts himself off in that same line is really weird, too. It’s not a period, it trails off weirdly and he shrugs. What’s that about, Jeremy?

Anyway, hope the fact that Jeremy’s dad was stationed in Europe a few times doesn’t come up in the plot line about a European crime family’s activities being investigated and possibly publicized.)

#the sunshine court #tsc #tsc spoilers #the sunshine court spoilers #aftg

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the-red-company-if · 11 months

Text

"When laws fail, when kingdoms crumble, we are the ones who remain standing in the ashes. We live by the sword, die by the sword. We sell our skills, not our souls."

The Red Company is a game where you'll take on the role of a mercenary and embark on a dangerous journey through a morally ambiguous and immersive dark fantasy world. (The story will be divided into three main Acts where you will meet different people and face different challenges.)

Genres: Dark Fantasy, Romance, Adventure, Psychological Thriller, Horror and Drama.

Warnings: This story is rated 18+ for depictions of violence, blood, death, gore, darker themes, mature language, (optional) explicit content, drug and substance abuse, psychological horror, mentions of past torture, mentions of past child abuse, and probably more things to be added later on—> If any of these themes or content may cause discomfort or distress, it is recommended to refrain from playing the game or to engage with caution.

Keelos is a realm known for its rich culture and magical heritage. The most potent form of magic, however, is not learned but a birthright etched into the bloodlines of the noble houses. Those who inherit this gift are referred to as the "Vestiges." The Vestiges belong to the 11 leading noble houses of Keelos, where these magical powers are inherited through generations, granting them abilities far beyond that of ordinary magic users. Each bloodline has its unique magical prowess that echoes its lineage's legacy.

However, the inheritance of these gifts is fickle – sometimes gracing multiple children within a single generation and, at other times, skipping several generations entirely. Regardless, the birth of a Vestige is always a significant event, celebrated with grandeur or dreaded in silence, based on the power they inherit.

Valyssa, one of the eleven Kingdoms of Keelos, once known for its thriving trade and powerful defenses, now teeters on the brink of chaos. The King's health is failing, and despite having fathered three illegitimate children, the laws of Valyssa dictate that only a Vestige can ascend to the throne. His bastards were not gifted with the bloodline magic; thus, the kingdom finds itself without a clear successor. The absence of a legitimate Vestige heir has thrown the noble houses into a power struggle, each vying for dominance and control over the kingdom.

The army, once Valyssa's pride, is now divided into different factions; its loyalties splintered among Varis's children, weakening the military's ability to maintain order and security. With the rise in violence and the state's inability to protect its citizens, the mercenaries once looked down upon are now a necessary evil.

The Red Company, a renowned and influential mercenary guild in the Kingdom of Valyssa lies in the bustling city of Valethorne, located on the crossroads of several major trade routes. Renowned for its integrity and unique blend of mercenaries, the Red Company represents a beacon of hope, kindness, and unity during a time of unrest.

In this game, you take on the role of the only child of Cassius, the revered leader of the Red Company Mercenaries. Your home is where you undergo hard-hitting training, intense strategizing, and prepare for the cutthroat reality of the mercenary life. This guild is not just your family but your lifeline in the dangerous world you're set to inherit.

Each day, you dive into the hardships that define the mercenary life. Loss and grief are as much a part of this life as victory and laughter. You learn that the sword isn't just a tool; it's a part of you, an extension of your will. Blood, sweat, and tears are your currency as you pay the price of survival in a world often too cruel to bear.

Under the watchful eye of your father, you face the critical decisions and dire consequences that come with leadership. Every choice you make, every step you take, carries the weight of the lives dependent on you. Your father's lessons become your mantras: Honor is non-negotiable. Loyalty is paramount. Caution is survival.

As you stand on the cliff of adulthood, you prepare for your coming-of-age mission. But the looming threat of the ruthless Iron Serpents and other mercenary groups and the turbulent political landscape of Veydis test your resilience, daring you to break.

Your legacy is the flame that holds back the broaching darkness. But the question remains:

For how long can the good days last before everything crumbles?

⚔️ Customize your gender, pronouns and sexuality.

⚔️ Customize your MC’s physical appearance.

⚔️Customize your own special weapon.

⚔️ Choose an alias that the public will know you by.

⚔️(Re-)build The Red Company after your expectations!… or let it all fall apart

⚔️Recruit new members.

⚔️ Explore friendship or romance options with a colourful cast of characters or make them your enemy.

⚔️ Adopt your companion for life... a doggy!

⚔️ Choices Shape the Tale: Your decisions will shape your character's personality, moral compass and influence the world around you.

⚔️ Will you lean on your brute strength, your eloquent charm, or perhaps your keen intellect to save your neck?

⚔️ Confront challenges, enemies, and mysteries in pursuit of glory.

⚔️ Discover hidden truths in a world of prophecy and peril.

⚔️ Rich Lore: Discover a universe brimming with vibrant cultures and mythology.

Under the Cut

Liran Haddeak [M]

"In you I’ve found a bond stronger than any blade. Always remember that I’ve got your back, today, tomorrow, always.”

Liran has been your best friend since childhood but his journey has always been rocky. For unknown reasons, he was deemed unfit and cast aside by his father. But Liran is anything but weak. Known for his calm demeanor and protective nature, he is the grounding presence in your chaotic life. And despite the harsh conditions that define a mercenary's life, Liran remains kind-hearted and steadfast. His unwavering loyalty and bravery make him a skilled fighter and major threat, especially since he has a trump card: Being a Vestige, he has the power to manipulate the air to his will. Underestimating him is a fatal mistake. (Liran will first appear in Act 1)

Appearance: Liran, is as unique as the wind he commands. His hair, a cascade of ash-blond locks, is secured in a ponytail, creating a stark contrast with his fair skin and the vibrancy of his blue eyes. Standing at an average height, he's lean yet sturdy, moving with an effortless grace. His features are soft but defined, and his smile reveals gentle dimples. He usually dresses in comfortable, pratical attire often opting for muted shades of grey.

Makena Thavari [F]

"You are a refreshing mystery in a world that's often too predictable. Kinda like a well-brewed potion with an unexpected kick."

Makena, the newest addition to the Red Company, is a woman of intellect and mystery. Her presence in a room is impossible to ignore. Makena's pursuit of knowledge led her down the path of healing, one of the most valuable skills in a world rife with conflict. She arrived at the Red Company with a healer's heart, ready to mend wounds and nurture those in need. But her entry isn't without its mysteries - an air of intrigue seems to surround her, creating a veil that others yearn to look beyond. (Makena will first appear in Act 3)

Appearance: Makena is a woman of captivating beauty, bearing a curvy build and a grace that reflects her unyielding inner strength. Her skin, a beautiful shade of brown, glows softly, exhibiting a subtle radiance. Makena's hair, dark as coal, is styled into elegant cornrows that cascade gently down her back. Her eyes, matching her skin in their rich brown color, are extraordinarily expressive, sparkling with both inquisitiveness and an enigmatic charm that few can resist. She dresses practically yet stylishly, in well-made and comfortable attire.

Riyah/Ridan/Riz [F/M/NB]

"You are like a constant thorn in my side. However, the day you falter, the day you break, will be the day I seize my moment."

Meet R, a formidable force of nature in a world of mercenaries. Born into a life of hardship and violence, R was destined for the mercenary path. As a child, rivalry brewed between them and you, a feud that has only intensified over the years. Upon reaching adulthood, R's ruthless nature and unmatched prowess in combat have sharpened their edge, making them an even more significant threat to The Red Company and especially you. (R will first appear in Act 1)

Appearance: R is an imposing figure, standing tall and carved like a mountain. They boast broad shoulders and a muscular build, embodying raw power and a wild ferocity. Their skin carries a warm brown, amplifying the ruggedness of their appearance. They have a striking face, its lines hard and unyielding, as if sculpted from stone. R has poisonous green eyes that shine with an intense, predatory gaze. If R is male or non-binary they have dark brown hair, very short and untamed and if R is female she has long dark brown hair that she keeps in two long braids.

Ghost [NB]

"Darling, I've been known to steal hearts. Be careful; you might be next."

"Ghost" - A person who's as elusive as their namesake, glides through the world with the grace of a prowling cat. Their real name, no one knows; They flirt and jest easily but trust rarely. As a master of deceit, Ghost thrives in the gray area between truth and lies, weaving webs that are often hard to disentangle. Ghost serves as a stark reminder that not all is as it seems, and sometimes, the deadliest are those who strike from the shadows. (Ghost will first appear in Act 2)

Appearance: Ghost is an enigmatic figure, embodying agility and swift silence in their lithe build. They stand at a modest height, their form radiating an aura of nimbleness. Their skin is fair, offering a stark contrast to their long, dark hair that flows loosely. Their raven-black eyes are truly hypnotizing, always sparkling with a touch of mischief, as if hiding secrets deep within their depths. Ghost's face is a tapestry of delicate features: a small, straight nose, a soft jawline, and thin brows often raised in silent amusement. They dress simply, yet with an undeniable flair. Their attire, while practical, is always of high quality and meticulously maintained.

Captain Joryn [TransM/TransF]

"You're quite a treasure, but don't forget - the ocean's depths are a vast hiding place for things..."

Captain Joryn, the notorious pirate who rules the sea lanes of Valyssa. With a glint of shrewdness in their eyes and a smirk forever on their face, Joryn embodies the audacity and relentless pursuit of wealth that only a pirate could understand. Uncompromisingly stubborn, Joryn bows to no one, and their greed is a force of nature that rivals the fiercest tempests they have ever faced at sea. Few have seen what lies behind their raucous laughter and tales of grandeur. Either way, those who underestimate Captain Joryn often find themselves at the bottom of the sea. (Captain Joryn will first appear in Act 2)

Appearance: Joryn is a captivating mix of elegance and intensity, a reflection of the sea they dominate. Their skin is brown and adorned with a multitude of intricate tattoos, a story, a memory etched permanently onto them. High cheekbones and full lips contribute to their captivating beauty and their eyes, deep and bewitching, are as dark as the ocean ground. Female Joryn keeps her hair in long, dark, dreadlocks and has a more lean yet curvaceous figure while Male Joryn hair is shorter but styles his hair in dreadlocks as well, otherwise he keeps his beard carefully trimmed and he is more lean and muscular. They adorn themselves with lots of accessories and jewels, spoils from their “adventures” and they prefer wearing loose and comfortable attire.

General Alva Rothar [M/F/NB]

"You mercenaries are like stray dogs, useful at times, but liable to bite the hand that feeds you. Cross me, and I assure you, the leash can tighten rather quickly."

Shrouded in an enigmatic aura, the stoic General Rothar is a name whispered with equal parts respect and caution across Valyssa. A master strategist and veteran of countless battles, their keen mind has played a pivotal role in many victories. Yet, beneath their stern exterior lies a complex tapestry of loyalty and cunning. No one can tell where their allegiance truly lies in the current succession crisis. With a gaze as sharp as a freshly honed blade, they observe the chaos with an inscrutable calm. Many have tried to gauge their leanings, only to be met with a penetrating stare and an enigmatic half-smile. Are they a friend or a foe? Only time will tell. But one thing's certain, crossing paths with General Rothar is never without consequence. (General Rothar will first appear in Act 3)

Appearance: General Rothar is a living testament to countless battles and victories. They stand above average height, their presence commanding attention wherever they go. Regardless of gender their light brown hair is kept short and always impeccably maintained, mirroring their rigid discipline. Their features are surprisingly soft yet captivating, with deep-set, piercing grey eyes that are ever-observant, missing nothing. Countless scars run across their body, each a memento of a battle fought and won, but the most notable scar is on General Rothar's face, is a jagged line that cuts across their left cheek, adding to their stern appearance. Cloaked in the uniform of their rank, the General displays an air of unmistakable authority, their every step echoing with the strength of a seasoned warrior.

The Red Company

Cassius Zahdoc [M, he/him]: Cassius is the charismatic leader of the Red Company whose imposing presence is in stark contrast to his warmth personality. A playful grin often teases the corners of his mouth, softening the lines of his battle-hardened exterior. His heart, worn boldly on his sleeve, beats fiercely for his people and his child. A respected warrior, a doting father, and an unwavering pillar of the Red Company. Beware his booming laugh, it's contagious.

Callista Zahdoc [F, she/her]: Callista, your grandmother, is an iron-willed matriarch with a tiger's strength and a lion's heart. Her demeanor is as tough as the battles she's survived, yet beneath the steely exterior lies a steadfast commitment to her kin. To cross her is to court peril, but to earn her respect is to gain an ally beyond measure.

Varian Allard [M, he/him]: Varian, a healer whose dry wit and deadpan sarcasm belie a deeply caring soul. Behind his gruff exterior and perpetually tired gaze lies an unflappable dedication to the wellbeing of his fellow Red Company members.

Amahle Dladla [F, she/her]: Meet Amahle, affectionately known as the Old Hag of the Red Company. Don't let her age or title fool you - beneath her gruff exterior lies a masterful cook with a tongue as sharp as her kitchen knife and a heart of gold. She runs the company's kitchen with an iron will, and few dare to cross her. But for those who earn her respect, Amahle serves not just meals but wisdom seasoned with years of experience.

Seraphina Haddeak [F, she/her]: Meet Seraphina, the Red Company's blacksmith. She crafts war weapons from raw materials with surgeon-like precision and warrior strength, her fiery spirit and quirky ideas seep into each creation. Seraphina's anvil beats the rhythm of relentless resilience.

Olaf Dolnik [M, he/him]: Olaf is a man of great stature and strength within the Red Company. His imposing figure and booming voice often draw the attention of any room he enters, and his skills in battle are unmatched. Olaf lives and breathes warfare, his passion for battle as legendary as his size.

Ayo Oatrun [NB, they/them]: With a hawk's eye and a cheetah's swiftness, Ayo embodies the lethal precision of an arrow in flight. Their keen eyes miss nothing, and they are known for their ability to strike a target with deadly accuracy from great distances. In the Red Company, Ayo is the eyes and ears, always watching, always ready.

Hadrian Mirik [TransM, he/him]: Hadrian is the beating heart of the organization, managing the supplies and logistics to keep the company's gears turning smoothly. His eye for detail and strategic mind ensure that the Red Company is always prepared and well-equipped.

Lola Haell [F, she/her]: Lola is the gatekeeper to the Red Company, her discerning eye able to pick out those with potential from the rest. Her infectious charisma and unparalleled persuasion skills make her the ideal figure to attract and welcome new members.

Roshan [NB, they/them]: Roshan, the animal handler of the Red Company, bridges the gap between human and beast. With a compassionate heart and nature-tuned spirit, their magic-like way soothes and commands animals with a gentle touch.

⚔️Demo: [ X ] - in progress

⚔️Ask Guideline

#The Red Company #interactive novel #interactive fiction #if wip #cyoa #choose your own adventure #choice game #twine game

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hd-junglebook · 3 months

Text

Edge of Exile

part 1

Following episode 9 Unity Day of the 100

You were escorted from your cell. The guard fixing you with a stern look as you both walk the all-too-familiar route away from maximum security.

"Don't cause any more trouble," he warns. you simply nod, too overwhelmed with anticipation to respond.

You were led through the halls to Mecha Station. The guard ushering you toward a small but cozy room. "Home sweet home," he says gruffly before departing.

You step inside the new room, making faces at his back as he walks away. This room was so different from your drafty, sterile cell in Prison Station. This space feels lived in. The desk was the same, your photos and colorful blankets placed neatly inside the room already.

The medium sized window that adorned one of the walls adding some natural scenery, just missing your drawings and paintings, each one a reflection of your innermost thoughts and emotions.

…

Your first week of freedom went better than you would have imagined.

At first, you were skeptical of his offer. Everyone knew how Jaha led - with an iron fist. You had witnessed his disregard for human life firsthand when he floated most of your friends. But his deal was your only chance to get out of that cell.

The work itself felt good. Kept your hands and mind busy, and finally able to use the skills that had been useless in your cell. The engineers even valued your input, unlike the guards who had tossed you in confinement.

These full, simple days of freedom were all anyone could wish for after surviving isolation. Every morning you reminded yourself to be thankful for this second chance, even if you didn't fully trust the man who had granted it.

Kane had only visited twice your release. Your stubbornness kept you from speaking, a trait you most definitely adopted from being around him so long. But no matter how much you tried pretending he didn’t exist anymore, he had always tried to be by your side.

You found it so hard to hate him. Even now when you think about it. They had placed you in indefinite lockup instead of death, if it were anyone else you would have been floated with the rest.

….

A soft knock sounded from your door, vibrating through the thin walls, waking you from your deep sleep. Bleary-eyed, you approached the door to find your grandmother standing there in the dimly lit corridor.

"Vera? What are you doing here so late?” you state, head lolling to the side.

She stepped inside, a small smile appearing on her lips. "I'm sorry to wake you, y/n. I couldn’t sleep but there’s something I wanted to ask you."

A look of confusion spreads across your face as you extend your hand, gesturing for her to sit at the small table as you shook off sleep. "What is it?"

"It's about your uncle, Kane."

You sighed, "What about him?" your voice came out harsher than intended as you crossed your arms, unwilling to yield. "You don't know what he put me through."

"You're right, I don't," she conceded softly. "But I know you. And I know holding onto bitterness will destroy the bright, brave girl I love."

“I won’t be alive for long. He's still family. His burden is heavy too. Will you at least try, for your old Grandma's sake?”

You let out a long breath, feeling your heart crack open despite yourself. You nodded reluctantly. Where Kane and you would end up, only time would tell.

Sadness filled her eyes. "Resentment will only poison your spirit, child. What's done is done. But you still have a choice - let go of the anger, or let it define you."

…

It was Unity Day, and the entire Ark was celebrating, minus you and the few engineers working to get the last three stations fixed up.

You had gotten to work the moment you woke up, Vera’s words still circling your mind. Sinclair had been first to join you, meeting in the remnants of flint station, helping you figure out the repairs for the damage.

Together, you both had spent hours poring over the manual, checking, and rechecking each step to make sure everything was done correctly.

Both of you taking turns going on breaks and grabbing snacks you had stolen from the eating hall, but for the most part, you were both fully focused on the task at hand.

The temperature in the room rose as well, making your work even more challenging. The air conditioning had been broken for weeks in flint station as if the mounting pressure of work wasn't enough.

You and Sinclair had pushed through it, determined to see this done.

The heat was stifling as you both crawled through the tight utility space, searching for the wiring short that was causing power fluctuations in Mecha Station. Rivulets of sweat dripped down your back.

"Phew, it's boiling in here," you complained, pushing past another bundle of wires. "Couldn't they have put in some AC?"

Sinclair chuckled. "Unfortunately for you y/n, the Ark wasn't built with comfort in mind. But don't worry, we're almost there."

You grumbled good-naturedly as he shuffled forward. your toolkit banging against the metal walls, the sound echoing in the tight space.

"Watch out for that junction box," Sinclair warned over his shoulder. You looked to the side and saw the hazard just in time and pivoted awkwardly around it.

"Thanks for the heads up. Wouldn't want to get zapped in here."

You reached the problem spot - a bundle of fraying wires with melted insulation. Sinclair gave a satisfied nod. "Just needs some fresh wraps and it'll be good as new."

As you both worked, Sinclair made quiet small talk, telling stories about past repairs and close calls he had with a coworker of his, Raven Reyes.

His calm expertise putting you at ease.

After another 30 minutes, all your hard, sweaty work paid off as you finally heard the hum of the machines coming back to life.

Packing up the tools, Sinclair nervously smiled at you. "You did great work today. With some more training, you'll make an excellent mechanic."

Pride swelled in your chest at the praise as you fanned yourself off from the heat. "Does this mean I get to do the fun zero-G jobs next?" you said jokingly.

He laughed heartily. "Maybe not just yet. But you've got a bright future ahead. Now let's get out of this sauna."

Grinning, you followed him out, grateful for his patience. Both of you let out a sigh of relief as you collapsed into a chair, exhausted, still drenched in sweat, sharing a fist bump before you stood and headed to the hallway to catch your breath, the sound of music and chatter filled the air.

The hallways decorated in banners and streamers recycled from the previous Unity Day adorned the walls.

Your thoughts were interrupted as you remembered that you needed to find Kane and your grandma before getting back to work.

"fuck," you whispered to yourself, speed walking down the hall.

you turned a corner, eyes on the floor glancing at the confetti when you were jolted out of your thoughts as a blonde lady bumped into you, causing you to stumble backwards.

"Oof!" you gasped.

Quickly regaining your balance as you looked up to see who had collided with you. It was Diana Sydney.

Diana looked at you with a mix of surprise and annoyance, her mouth pinched into a thin line before quickly brushing past you and disappearing down the hall.

"Excuse me!" You called after her, irritation flaring. "You just ran right into me!"

She paused and half-turned, eyes scanning right through you with her dark eyes. "Did I?" she murmured dreamily before whisking away again.

You stood there rubbing your left shoulder where she had hit you, stunned by her complete lack of courtesy. "Unbelievable," you muttered under your breath.

You couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about her reaction.

You had never met her before, but you had heard all the stories from your uncle about their shared time on the council.

You quickly made your way through the rest of the halls, passing by Jaha speaking to the citizens on the Ark and the delinquents on the ground through a broadcast.

His voice was firm as he spoke, pausing every so often to look at the faces in the crowd, stating that the ark would be sending down reinforcements within the next 3 days.

Just when you were about to give up your search, you spotted both Kane and your grandma off to the side of the room in the middle of a conversation.

Kane brushing off his mother’s request, about to walk away leaving Vera to stand alone to watch the unity speech.

Your heart ached at the sight, you couldn't understand why Kane would leave her like that.

You walked faster, almost in front of them when all of a sudden your thoughts were drowned out by a deafening boom as an enormous explosion rocked the station.

Your body lifted off the ground, a flying piece of metal stabbing your leg as you crashed to the floor. You felt a jolt of pain as your head smacked onto the surface, and everything went black.

...

When you came to, a groan escaped your lips, your whole body aching in pain from the fall. You look around to find yourself lying on the cold, hard surface of the floor. The footsteps vibrating on your face and muffled voices nearby.

You tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through your head and you fell back down. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you struggled to move, your ears ringing and your vision blurry.

The feeling of wetness pooled on your thigh, a gasp escaping your lips when you looked down to examine your leg.

A gash stretched across the area above your knee. Your nose wrinkling in disgust at the sight of your thigh jaggedly cut open.

With trembling hands you ripped off your sleeves to tie around your leg. Pain shot through your body in ripples the tighter you made the knot.

Shouts and screams all around you, the smell of smoke and burning filling your nostrils, panic set in as you frantically looked around, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

It took a second for you to even understand how you ended up in this situation, how did this happen.

The chaos around you seemed to intensify as you looked around, noticing the number of people panicking, some of them injured and bleeding. The ground was littered with debris and shattered glass, and the walls were crumbling from the force of the explosion.

You spotted your grandmother lying on the floor impaled by a jagged piece of metal, your heart began to race, eyes widening at the sight of her blood pooling beneath her. The sight of Kane leaning over her, his voice trembling as he recited the Travelers Blessing.

"In peace, may you leave the shore. In love, may you find the next,” he whispered, his eyes filled with tears. “Safe passage on your travels until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again," Kane said, spending his mother’s last moment comforting her.

Pushing down the swirling panic in your stomach, you focused only on putting one foot in front of the other. You couldn’t look at her anymore. The adrenaline dulling the pain coming from your gash slightly.

You limped forward slowly, the bodies of council members greeting you as they lay motionless on the ground. There were four of them, all of them unconscious.

Jaha approached from your side, concern etched on his face.

"Y/n! Are you alright?" he asked urgently.

"I - I think so," you stammered back, disoriented.

Kane stood from his place on the ground, closing vera’s eyes and coming over to where you stood with Jaha.

“You need to get out of here, they tried to kill you,” Kane said to him, voice shaking with fear and adrenaline.

“Do you realize it was Diana who tried to kill you, she’s the only one not here.” Jaha looked at you with a grave expression.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, looking to both you and Kane with urgency, “First priority is getting survivors to safety. Then we stop them before they cause any more harm” he said. “We have to lock down the ark.”

“Kane find Diana.”

….

The adrenaline was pumping through your veins as you and Kane walked down the dimly lit hallways, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the metal walls. The air was thick with smoke, making it difficult to see and breathe.

Four skilled ark guards following in the rear behind Jaha, their weapons at the ready. Diana’s followers were not to be underestimated, they were fighting for their cause and would do anything to escape.

After what felt like an eternity, you reached the end of the hallway where the exodus ship was docked.

The doors were sealed shut, the guards and Kane charged towards the door, using all their strength to break it down. To no avail, the door didn’t budge. Jaha begged Diana not to do this.

You spotted a long metal pry bar lying nearby and snatched it up.

"Use this!" You called, passing the bar to the nearest guard. He wedged it into the seam between the doors, the muscles in his arms bulging as he heaved with all his strength. They worked together, pushing with everything they had but it wasn’t enough.

Jaha persisted attempting to talk Diana down, “Diana, please! You don't want to be remembered like this!” The desperation clear in his voice.

“I won't be because you brought this on yourself, Jaha. You promised the people truth, and all you gave them were lies!”

Jaha paled in response, “You had me shot! You detonated a bomb in a public meeting, killing six innocent people, and now you want to kill everyone on this space station to satisfy your ego?”

Diana smirked, looking back to her followers “He is still lying to your face. There aren't enough dropships to get everyone to the ground.”

The men shared a look, Red deciding to break the ranks and save himself and sprinted forward, before anyone could react. Just out of your grasp, he had slipped through the open doors and seized the controls.

With a grinding screech, the massive doors began sliding closed, causing the dropship to begin its launch.

Sinclair began pleading with Jaha, his breathing heavy. “ Sir, we have to go right now! Everybody out! Get back behind the containment doors. Go, go, go! Please, sir.”

….

The ship was pitch black and the air was thick and heavy, causing sweat to bead on your skin despite the cool air lightly blowing around the halls. In the distance, a shuffling noise came from behind you.

Your heart rate quickened as you turned around, but there was no one there. But then, you heard it again, this time, it was closer. You strained your eyes, trying to make out any movement in the shadows.

The sound of footsteps bounced off the walls, slow and deliberate, as if whoever was making them was trying to be quiet. You tried to tell yourself that it was just your imagination, but the footsteps grew louder and closer.

Just as you were about to scream, a hand landed on your shoulder. You jumped and let out a gasp, as a familiar voice started to speak. “It's just me, Kane,” he said, his voice low and calm.

You let out a sigh of relief and turned to face him, thankful to see he was okay. In the faint light, you could see his tall figure looming over you on the floor.

“Can you stand up?' Kane asked, concern written on his face, the blood from your soaking the white fabric of your sleeves. You nodded yes and grabbed Kane's hand to stand up.

“We should look for everyone else,” he said, breaking the eerie silence. “We have to find Jaha.”

You nodded in agreement, relieved to have a goal in this unknown darkness.

…

Kane kept a steady hand under your arm while you slowly made your way down the hallway, leg throbbing with every step you took.

You both rounded a corner, stopping in the middle of the hallway as you stifled a groan when a spike of pain shot through your leg. Kane paused, his brow creased in concern. "Just a little farther," he encouraged.

You nodded, biting your lip as he continued walking you forward. The hall was eerily silent, a sudden clanging rang out, followed by a loud curse. You jumped abruptly, exchanging startled glances with Kane, heading forward to investigate the noise.

There on the floor was Wick, his arm caught in a doorway, tools scattered at his feet. He looked up at you in dismay. He was in a state of panic, his eyes wild with fear as he struggled to free himself.

"A little help here?" Wick pleaded, still trying in vain to free himself.

Kane sighed and moved to examine Wick's predicament. "What happened?"

"I was trying to override the door panel when it decided to eat my arm!" Wick explained in exasperation.

"What the hell happened, anyway?" wick said distracting himself while you and Kane use an axe to try and open the door.

Kane had a somber look on his face when he replied, "We were betrayed. Councilor Sydney... she took the Exodus ship by force. The damage to the Ark was catastrophic."

Wicks face turned in disgust, "What a bitch! You know, my mom voted for her."

You bit back an amused smile at the absurd situation despite the pain you were in. Only Wick could get into such a mess.

Once freed, Wick shook our hands gratefully. "I owe you both. Let’s look for everyone else."

With your leg burning in pain, you decided to separate and venture back to the med bay, you knew that they would be able to handle themselves and you were useless until you patched up your leg.

You could feel the warmth of the dark blood soaking through your pants, and you knew that you needed to find a safe place to tend to your wounds.

You hobbled through the wreckage of the ship, pushing the doors to the infirmary open.

….

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ficthots · 11 months

Text

Bonded: Chapter One

A/N: This is my first time dabbling in the Star Wars Universe so I would like to add a couple of notes regarding my choices for this story. It is not canon to actual Star Wars events (as in do not expect a Kylo Ren death). Also, I am fully aware that some of the main plot points are not canon to Star Wars lore and the real stories. This is also posted on my AO3 account under the same username. I hope you all enjoy this and please let me know what you think!

Summary: Being from a royal family from the small planet of Bar'leth should have been enough of a clue to what type of future you could expect to lead. One identical to your parents. Get married, have a couple of children, and then rule with one another. Where does love fit into this all? Arranged marriages are the normalcy in your world, but what was not a normalcy was when that marriage was to the Supreme Leader of the First Order, Kylo Ren. Your entire world gets turned upside once you become the Empress, but will your hopes and dreams of true love be squashed with this arrangement? Perhaps the presence of the force in your life has other plans for you.

Word Count: 6.3K+

Chapter Two

Very rarely are there things that can be a universal experience amongst a general group of individuals. Typically, most do not dream of the same things as others, but this one event is something that some, if not most, do. A wedding day.

The most joyous day of your life, most would expect. A blur of memories filled with a dress tailored exactly to you, decorations filling every nook and cranny of the selected space, surrounded by those most special in your life. Most importantly, the person whom you love most in the entire galaxy, standing there, waiting to start the rest of your lives together.

A universal experience. For most, anyways.

Despite knowing that this was just a fantasy to you, it didn’t take the sting away from the realization of it being exactly that. A fantasy. Something that would never happen to you or in your world in general.

Filled with false hope that one day, that dream would come true. Yet, here you were, awoken from said dream, crushed to a final understanding that your life was about to change. For better or worse you were still uncertain, but change was on the horizon.

Just like the sun you were watching rise over the mountain top from your balcony. Peeking over the horizon to welcome another day. A day you had been dreading and fearful of since you had been told. The arrangement had been made only some weeks prior.

Of course, it should have been expected. Those in your position were never given the opportunity to go out into the galaxy and select the person you were certain you would be in love with for the remainder of your days. Another choice ripped away from you, stamped for you, not a care about you and your thoughts on it.

A heartbreaking, soul crushing reality you had been too numb to face. Unable to sleep for days leading up to his arrival. A showcase of unity across the galaxy was the goal here. The entire purpose of your bond to this man.

A man you had never seen or spoken to before in your life. A match made in the heavens according to your mother, father, and brother. What more could your small planet of Bar’leth ask for? Their princess was going to marry the Supreme Leader of the First Order.

Celebrations had been planned and you watched from afar as many citizens rose with the sun and began their preparations for this wondrous and joyous day. Was it joyous? It was your duty. Your responsibility.

To put up a front to the entire galaxy that the First Order was on a mission to bring peace to all planets. A glimmer of hope was being birthed today. Your peaceful planet that had roots back to ancient traces you couldn’t even begin to track if you dedicated your days to it. The perfect match.

Situated in the Core Worlds, inhabited by lovers of the arts and education, most with family ties dating back as far as your own. A distinguished university in which you were a proud graduate of was the crown jewel of your planet. People and species coming from across the span of the vast galaxy to attend and gain an education unmatched elsewhere.

A chance to strengthen relationships that most planets had never fathomed would even be a possibility, yours included. Because of you, this was the opportunity presented. A bond creating this all. Today.

It was what you had been trained for since you were a child. To be a diplomatic functioning member of this society to be given a chance at getting your planet's name spread for all to hear. When your father, King Erix, had been requested for a special meeting with the highest officials of the Order, not much thought was given to it.

A regularity for your father and brother, Prince Azra, as he trained to inherit the throne. What was not expected was for a deal to be made that same day between the two governing bodies for your hand.

The agreement was signed that evening.

While you could admit that this was a serious opportunity for your people, you couldn’t help but feel defeated. You at least had hoped you would have set eyes on your future husband before your wedding day.

Optimistic indeed.

An early riser you always were. It was one of the only solitary moments you were granted as a royal. Giving you a moment to breathe and think on your own. Something you would never take for granted as there was always somebody by your side.

Your pocket of peace was disrupted by the deafening sound of ships entering the atmosphere. For what, you were hoping they wouldn’t follow through. A silly hope you knew was slim, but it slipped away the moment they entered your eye line.

Only seconds later were your chamber doors thrown open and a slew of people entered. You didn’t startle, expecting them to have arrived any minute. “Princess, your morning tea. We must begin preparations immediately. Your mother is on her way and should be here momentarily with your gown for presentation.”

Nodding at your lady in waiting’s rushed words, her formality dropped as she set the tray down on the outdoor table. “How are you feeling, dove?” A sigh escaped your lips after sipping the scalding liquid, eyes roving over the ginger’s porcelain like features.

“Fine.” You could tell as she cocked her head at you she didn’t buy it for a second. Your warm hand enclosed around her cold one, softening your features. “Truly, Tamsyn. I’m fine.” Only a brief nod, your mother’s chirpy voice bounced off the walls.

The heavy gown tossed onto your made bed, her bright eyes took in your figure as it sat in the iron chair. “My darling dove is getting married today.” Seeing her eyes sparkle as tears welled, you stood and approached her.

She pulled you into a tight embrace, a kiss on your head. “Okay, we need to begin. Your presentation is in only two hours time. They have already arrived and are being shown the plans for the ceremony and celebration.” Being ushered into the vanity chair, you sat patiently, staring at your reflection as they made a miracle happen on you.

As the final lace was adjusted on your gown, Tamsyn squatted, placing your feet in the matching slippers. She smoothed down a pleat on the dress as she stood back up, giving you a final once over. Tamsyn, while only slightly older than you, had been the closest thing to a best friend your entire life.

Having been your lady in waiting since you had turned thirteen, your mother was the one to claim it was of the utmost importance to have at least one of your ladies be relatively close to your age. You two bonded almost immediately and hadn’t spent a day apart since.

Once she had become of age, she took over as your main lady and began training the others as they came and went. She was the only one accompanying you on this new journey to which you were eternally grateful for.

She was giving up everything to go with you. Leaving her family, friends, her entire life. Claiming she would never let you depart on your own. It had been a relief despite the guilt that pummeled you whenever you thought about it too much. Tamsyn placated your worries, stating this was her duty and she was proud to be your lady, but most importantly your friend and confidant.

The wedding wasn’t for hours, supposed to occur later that evening, but the most important part of the day was about to occur. Trailing behind your mother, father, and brother, you entered the drawing room, attempting to steady your breathing.

Chatter that filled the room stilled as you four entered. Eyes quickly scanning the figures, you saw a group of men, possibly five or six First Order generals and officials standing on the opposite side of the room in their uniforms.

The man in front was older, but unlike his comrades had a small smile on his features. “King Erix, Queen Gaia, Prince Azra, what a pleasure to see you all once more and on such a happy day, yes?”

Your father spoke up first. “General Waylan, how wonderful to see you. I believe I speak for our entire planet as well as the galaxy when I say the pleasure is all ours.” Not able to see him any longer as you stood, anxiously awaiting your acknowledgement, you tried to still the shake in your hands.

Hearing a clap, who you now knew as General Waylan spoke. “Well, wonderful then. May we see the princess?” Just as you had all practiced for hours the night before, your parents parted, giving you enough space to step forward.

A small smile gracing your lips as your chin tilted ever so slightly up. General Waylan was entirely white, his beard and hair matching, but perfectly trimmed. His gray suit was fitted to him perfectly. Despite being in what you assumed was his sixties, his skin had few wrinkles. The only give away being the crows feet around his eyes. His dark blue eyes bordered on gray. Quite a handsome man.

His hands enclosed around one of yours as he gave a bright smile. “Princess, what a pleasure to finally meet you. Your family was quite right about your beauty. We are overjoyed to welcome you to the First Order. General Raj, if you would please?” He released your hands, your smile never faltering as the man he addressed made a quick walk around you entirely.

A small nod in General Waylan’s direction and his smile grew once more. “Fantastic! We shall see you all in the hall this evening for the union of the princess and Supreme Leader.” An audible breath of relief escaped your mother as the First Order officials filed out of the room.

Unlike Waylan, the others never showed an ounce of emotion. Not in their eyes, faces stoic, entirely motionless. It sent a chill down your spine. Turning, your father was beaming. He pulled you into a small embrace. “You did wonderful, dove. Now, you need to go get prepared for this evening. Azra and I have paperwork to attend to in regards to the wedding. Your mother will go with you, I assume?”

She quickly nodded in response. “Yes, we do not have nearly enough time to get you fully ready.” You eyed her. “What do you mean? Don’t I just have to change?” She laughed loudly at you, before pushing you towards the door.

“If only, dear. If only.”

If anyone understood the importance of this union, it was you. For star's sake, you had studied diplomatic alliances and treaties the entirety of your education. It was the area you were most well versed in which is why you were selected in the first place.

What you did not understand was why this had to be so massive of a production. The halls were overflowing with workers hustling around trying to ensure everything was perfect. Your mother was swept away every opportunity they could grab her. You weren’t sure you had seen anyone for longer than ten minutes the entire day.

With the clock ticking closer and closer, your chamber doors burst open. There stood the event coordinators. One from Bar’leth and one from the Order. Both out of breath and visibly nervous. Your mother eyed them expectantly. When neither spoke up, your mothers irritation peaked.

“What is the matter? Why do you burst into the chambers in such a way?” They exchanged a nervous glance before your coordinator spoke up. “We-we have news Your Highness.” Eyes narrowing in their direction, you hissed as another pin entered your hair and scraped your scalp.

The Order’s planner clutched their data pad closer to their chest. “The Supreme Leader arrived only minutes ago and upon his arrival there has been a change of plans.” Worry filled the room, bordering on panic. “He has requested a private ceremony with no one in attendance apart from the royal family and the Order’s officials.”

Confusion filled you and you spoke up before your mother had the chance, turning in your seat to fully face them. “That’s preposterous. The entire purpose of this is to be done publicly with the people in attendance. Why would he want a private ceremony? Will he attend the celebration following the ceremony?”

Another nervous glance shared, a shifting of feet, causing your jaw to set. “It is unclear at this time, princess.” Whipping around to look at your mother, you could tell she was unsure how to proceed, but in only a second she snapped out of it.

“No bother. If that is what the Supreme Leader has requested then we will be compliant. We can only hope he chooses to attend the celebration.” Shaking your head and going to speak again, she shot you a look of warning, telling you to keep your mouth shut.

Facing back towards the vanity mirror, you sat in angry silence as they finished getting you ready for your wedding. It was the oddest thing you had ever experienced. You did not walk down the aisle, only ushered in by your father from a side door that you didn't even know was in the grand hall.

The pews that were supposed to be filled by hundreds of people, sat empty, but decorated nonetheless. Eyes closing momentarily, you breathed in the sickly sweet scent of the thousands of florals that overflowed in the room. Only the first two pews were taken. One by your family, the other by the First Order. Your soon to be husband not there at all.

Unsure of what you were supposed to be doing, you looked to your mother for guidance, but she seemed as perplexed by this just as much as yourself. Shifting awkwardly to the side, the officiant finally looked up to see you had entered the room.

Standing there, he smiled warmly at you, beckoning you over. It was eerily silent, no music, no chatter, nothing. It was roughly five minutes drenched in the quiet before a sound finally happened. When the doors opened at the end of the hall, it caused you to jump in surprise. A large man stalked forward at a hurried pace to reach where you stood.

As he grew closer, the larger he became. Dressed in all black, his garb was floor length, long sleeved, a belt in the middle, boots, gloves, and oddly a helmet with a cowl draped over it. Not a word was spoken as he stood next to you, grabbing the pen that sat on the tabletop next to the certificate, signing it.

Not sparing a glance in your direction, he turned and left just as quickly as he had appeared. No vows exchanged, no first kiss, nothing. Not a sliver of skin visible on him. Entirely hidden by his clothing choice. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but this was far from any possibility that crossed your mind.

Nervous and unsure of what to do next, you turned and looked at your parents. Father making a signature motion, your trembling hand picked up the same pen, signing your name and looking at the officiant. “Congratulations, you are officially married.”

Brow furrowing, you spoke up for the first time. “No vows?” He shook his head, that stupid faux smile still on his oddly thin lips. “No, vows do not need to be exchanged for this to still be a legally binding service. Again, I offer my sincerest congratulations.” With that, he stepped off the altar and walked from the room.

In a single blink, you turned around and looked at the nine attendees, but what you were not expecting was what happened next. “Congratulations, Empress.” Your father spoke, leading the others in a bow of respect to you. Your mouth went dry, throat closing, hands bunching into fists.

You had just become Empress of the First Order by way of marriage and you hadn’t uttered a single word the entire time. What you had missed was the simple black band sitting on the table that your mother grabbed and placed in your palm.

“What is this?” You inquired, feeling the cool object against your skin. “That is your wedding band.” General Waylan chimed in, a smile still in place on his features. A small oh escaped you, slipping the band on your finger yourself, an instantaneous weight dropped onto your shoulders.

Still holding to the tradition of your people, in an hour after the ceremony had transpired, or whatever that had been, you two were to step out onto the palace’s front balcony and greet the citizens who were thrilled about the union.

The room was buzzing with excitement, everyone getting in the correct order for which they were to file out. Standing next to the massive man, you didn’t look at him, your meek voice hardly audible. “I must take your arm.”

He visibly stiffened. As the announcement was made to the gathered crowd, he had yet to offer his arm for you. The double doors opened and the group began moving forward. You spoke again, more hurried and snippy than before. “I must take your arm.”

His elbow popped from his side begrudgingly.

A deep breath expanded your lungs as you slipped your arm through his, the First Order officials the first to step onto the balcony, your family following, and lastly the newly betrothed couple.

He was hard as a rock as your hand rested on his forearm. The fabric surprisingly cool and smooth under your fingers. Standing as close as you were, the smell of leather and a soap of some sort, filled your senses. It was only audible from the close proximity, but small breaths were picked up by the modulator in the mask. Obviously, his jaw was clenched and forcing air through his nose.

Your mind began to run with thoughts of him. Why was he dressed in such a way? Why does he choose to not show any skin? Does he have undisclosed injuries? Perhaps he’s horribly malformed. You were also betting he was well into his later fifties, possibly around your fathers age. Wonderful. Your new husband was an old man, with extreme deformities, and horribly rude manners. Jackpot.

Unwavering from his tight stance while still extremely rigid he led you out.

Forcing as large of a smile as you could, you graciously waved to the cheering people below. Easily thousands had gathered in the square to set eyes on you both for the first time as a pair united by marriage. The first front of harmony and peace being presented to the galaxy then and there.

The officials and your family turned towards you both, clapping and cheering for the newly wed couple. Continuing with the facade for show, you tilted your head back in his direction and offered as genuine of a sincere smile as you could. Watching as his mask tilted in your direction, you knew in there, you were maintaining eye contact with him.

You were the first to break it, turning back to the adoring civilians' cheers and chants, continuing to wave. His helmet did not turn back towards them, still eyeing you. Twitching ever so slightly, a sharp pain hit the front of your forehead. Indication of a massive headache impeding, you tried your best to ignore it.

It was quick after that, him refusing to stand there for longer than a few minutes, but as soon as you were back inside, you withdrew your arm as he dropped his away from you and stalked off.

Once the doors shut behind your family returning inside, General Raj began rattling off instructions. It was hard to focus, happy you had others there to fully listen to them as your mind was elsewhere. Where in the world could he be running off to?

There was still a massive celebration planned for that evening that you two needed to be in attendance for. Or so you thought, anyways. It’s how it had always been done. Was he embarrassed to be seen with you? If anything, you could have done much better than him! There were king’s, prince’s, elected officials lined up around the galaxy that would have loved a chance with you.

Instead, you got a black mass of a being as your husband. Betting on him being a vile creature of some sort instead of the handsome dreamy prince you had always envisioned as your husband. What bullshit.

General Raj gathered your attention back to him. He understood that you hadn’t been listening to a single word he had uttered in the last two minutes, so he kept it simple.

“Empress, you are to be on your shuttle within the next hour. Your belongings are already packed and the final items are being loaded now and will be in transport to the residence momentarily. Welcome to the First Order.” Shaking your head, you stopped him before he could leave. “No, what about the celebration?”

Facing you once more, irritation was present on his face. Knowing he had given you the explanation of that just before, you didn’t care that you were making him repeat it. After all, you were his boss now. “The Supreme Leader has stated he will not be in attendance and requested you be on your way to the Supremacy as soon as possible.” He bowed before turning and following in the direction of where the others had just gone.

Turning to your mother, her face couldn’t mask the pain and disappointment. “It's alright, dove. I’m sure they are going to have a massive event upon your arrival. Now, come on, we need to get you ready to go.” You knew there would be no event waiting for you.

Hustling back to your room, you wanted nothing more than to get out of this dress, and wait for this wretched day to be over. Fighting back tears as you practically ran to your room, when you arrived you saw it stripped down to nearly the bare bones. Everything was gone.

All of your memories from childhood and your time spent on the planet you loved most had disappeared in just the few hours you had been gone. Your garments to change into were laid out on your bedding, Tamsyn turning to see you flustered as she went over the list she had in her hands for the last time.

“Dove?” Immediately throwing yourself into her grasp, she hugged you tightly as you sobbed. Everything as you knew it was over and done with. A new life starting from the ground up was waiting for you on a far off ship you had never heard of just fifteen minutes prior. Some stranger who was now your husband refused to even speak to you.

She soothed you, wiping at your tear stained cheeks. “Alright, enough of that. Let’s get you changed, come on, you can tell me all about it on the way.” Refusing to wait until you were on your transport, you recounted the “wedding” to her. You watched as her face twisted every now and then, opting to bite her tongue so as to not make things worse, but you could tell even she was taken aback by how brazen it all had been.

She stated how shocking it was when a random general entered your quarters and demanded it all be packed within the hour. Everyone assumed you would at least stay long enough to enjoy the celebrations, but no.

Here you were being ushered out of the only place you had called home, unsure when or if you would ever see it again. Only having a brief moment to mutter goodbyes to your family, you could see the worry evident in your mothers eyes.

“Ensure you’ll let me know of your arrival, okay?” Smiling as she cupped your cheeks, you agreed. “Yes, mother.” She nodded, still refusing to let you go. “I love you. I am just a transport away if you need me. I plan to visit soon so I expect private quarters, am I understood?” As she was tugging you into a hug, your brother spoke up. “Mother, she is the Empress of the Order. Let her go and do not give her orders.”

It was a wet laugh that escaped her throat, but as you stepped back, they all made their courteous bows to you. Your father and brother not offering any more than that interaction. Once in the shuttle, you watched as your father placed his arm around your mothers shoulders, seeing her hands clasped tightly against her chest, tears made tracks on her cheeks as she waved.

The shuttle took off, leaving the palace in a hurried blur, it grew smaller and smaller as you went further and further from your home. Former home. You weren’t sure if you would ever be able to think of another place as home.

Home was Bar’leth. Where you attended primary school and painted in the university’s courtyards as a child. Where it was common for the galleries and museums to be open late for those to wander through at their own discretion. Where creativity blossomed and those who came here left as a better version of themselves.

Nowhere else could ever be home.

From what you had learned about the Supremacy you weren’t sure how to feel about it. The largest ship you had ever heard of, floating in the middle of space, a population only consisting of First Order employees you did not know what to expect.

In all honesty, when you tried to research the history and relevance of said ship, there was little to no information. The Order doing a sound job of keeping the information as locked down as possible. Which you understood, it was a massive security issue. The Supreme Leader resided there mostly, or so you hoped, and their top ranking generals and officials. As well as being home to the largest base for them. Now, their Empress was going to be calling this distant thing her home.

Empress.

A title you weren’t sure what to do with. The significance of it still uncertain. At least until the Supreme Leader made up his mind. He did not frighten you like how most others claimed they feared him. For the time being, you had no sound reason to. You just hoped it remained that way.

Needing to occupy your time in the shuttle and then the ship ride to the Supremacy, you began going through the various documents that had been given to you. Some background information on the expectations placed upon you as well as some knowledge of what you were getting yourself into.

Tamsyn was in contact with the workers setting up the residence, ensuring everything was going to be nothing short of perfect for your arrival. While you were relieved to know that it was going to be a two day trip to get to your destination, you knew it was there waiting for you.

Would he be?

Your thoughts, despite how much you were trying to deter these thoughts, were riddled with him. Never having heard of a ceremony allowed to be legally binding without at least both parties saying ‘I do’, your sadness was dissipating. What was left in its wake was anger. In all honesty, you felt incredibly disrespected.

This had been a day you hoped would be filled with light and love. Not only did you have no idea who he was, what he looked like, or even sounded like, you were robbed of that. Of having a romantic ceremony followed by an evening of fun celebration. He had ruined that.

Simply because he was too high and mighty to indulge in such activities. That was one thing you had never heard about him. Seeing him at any public outing for the Order. Suppose, that is why you were married to him in the first place. Someone else of significant standing being in attendance, if not being the one to host, such things.

No longer were the people frustrated by his lack of appearance, but now overjoyed because you were going to be there. Oh, joy. What a self-centered, prick! While spending all of your time stewing in anger, Tamsyn watched from afar as you continuously shook your head in silence, jaw grinding teeth together, unsure what was going through your mind.

Although, she had a fairly good idea.

Five meals had come and gone during your journey, and before you knew it you had reached the unknown location of the ship. Tamsyn immediately placed a large coat over your shoulders, letting you know it was going to be brisk.

It had your jaw dropping as you docked inside of the ship. The hanger being one of the largest you had ever set eyes on. An entire fleet of ships and then some were sitting and waiting for use. How much did something like this even cost to construct? Let alone keep staffed?

Every so often one would depart or another would land. Hundreds if not thousands of troopers, workers, anyone you could think of shuffled through the area. Some were doing maintenance on the ships, others trying to get to another area, your head was on a constant swivel as you followed Tamsyn to wherever she was leading you.

Not a single person paid you any mind. It was hard to mask the disappointment bubbling within you. Any hopes of a celebration were squashed immediately. It had been like any other day. The only difference being you were now permanently tied to that wretched man.

It was loud in the hangar, but as soon as you left the area, the noise died down significantly. Did they do some kind of sound modification to make that happen? Quite impressive, you thought to yourself.

You knew you were going to have to be accompanied by someone at all times in order to figure out the floor plan of this place. Far too many turns and doors to go through, you had lost count after the third turn and fifth blaster door.

Arriving after an almost forty minute walk, there stood massive double doors to greet you. A happy face waiting for you as well. “General Waylan, thank you for taking the time to personally seek me out for my arrival.” You stated with a smile, accepting his outstretched hand.

“Of course, Empress. I wanted to be here to give you the tour of your residence aboard the Supremacy. I hope it will be to your standard. Alas, a bit different from what you are used to, but I think you will adjust quickly.” Offering instructions on the scans that needed to be done for security measures, the doors rescinded into the walls with a loud rush of air.

You would never get used to that. Honestly, it was dangerous. If your hand had been even just a millimeter from the indentation where the doors rescinded into the wall, your fingers would be cut clean off. You shuddered at the thought.

Inside, sleek black floors that were polished immaculately shined so well you could see your own reflection. Directly ahead of you was a large living space equipped with a plush couch. To your left, a massive kitchen, a man standing in it with another smaller woman next to him.

“Empress, may I introduce you to your cook and his assistant. They will be preparing all of your meals. An extra security measure taken by the Order to ensure your safety.” A quick hello was all you managed, truly taken aback by how large this residence was. Multiple hallways breaking off in every direction from the main space.

Not expecting something so expansive, you were almost certain it was larger than your home palace. A private dining hall, many refresher rooms, main chambers, guest chambers, every time you turned a corner there was another room. By the time you had finished, you knew the only rooms that would ever get used were your private office and your personal chambers.

What you did not notice was anyone else's belongings in the home. “General?” He turned at your address, smiling widely. “Yes, Empress?” Still looking around to see if perhaps you had missed something, you finally asked. “Where does the Supreme Leader reside?”

His brow furrowed. “Beg your pardon?” Waving your hand around at the open rooms. “Which of these does he reside in?” A small chuckle fell under his breath. “I apologize, Empress. I believe you misunderstood. This is your residence. Solely yours.”

Turning and looking at Tamsyn, her face mirrored yours. “He does not reside here?” He shook his head. “No. His own residence is on the other side of the ship, closer to the hangar.” Feeling irritation bubbling within you, your jaw clicked.

“Let me be clear on this. The Supreme Leader, who is my husband, is to live apart from me? Permanently?” He nodded, confirming your asks. Turning to look at Tamsyn again, her face did nothing to hide her emotion. “I do not understand, General. How will this work?”

He sighed, ushering you towards the couch to sit for a moment. “Supreme Leader Ren has made his intentions clear. He expects you two to live entirely separate lives, Empress. Only a facade for the galaxy, otherwise duties are separate. They do not coincide hardly ever. We apologize that this was not made clear beforehand, but that is his wish. We must follow Kylo’s demands.”

It was the first time you had heard someone use his actual name since the first mention of him all those weeks ago. Kylo Ren. A bitter taste landing on your tongue by just thinking about saying it.

“Now, you are expected to report for your duties the day after tomorrow. You will be explained about your role by an official on that morning. You will also meet your personal assistant then as well. In the meantime, please get adjusted. Everyone is thrilled you are here and we want to make you feel welcome. If you need anything, please, let me know.” He departed right after.

What a lie. Everyone was not thrilled you were there. No one even knew who you were! It was obvious that many of the First Order’s people had no indication that this marriage had even taken place.

Only having a moment to catch your breath, the door opened once more and in walked Tamsyn with two other women with her. When had she even left? “Empress, I am pleased to introduce you to your ladies in waiting. On my left is Calista and on my right is Layana. They will of course be reporting to me and I to you.”

Standing and smiling at the two ladies, you greeted them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Calista and Layana. Tamsyn has been my lady in waiting since I was only thirteen. I trust we’ll all get along just fine. Thank you.” They said nothing as they bowed and hurried off towards your room.

Eyes going wide, you collapsed back down on your couch. “I don’t like this, Tam.” She sat next to you, propping her feet up as well. “It’s weird, right? Him living apart from me? No one knowing I was arriving? Us having no interactions? ” Shrugging, she rested her hands on her stomach.

“I don’t know. I think it’s pretty normal for most arranged marriages, you know? Your parents were not the normal standard. They were lucky, getting to choose like they did.” You sighed, eyes closing tightly.

Head turning towards your room, you pouted at her. “Can you get a fire going for me? It’s so cold in here.” She stood, immediately going to your room and getting it prepared for the night. As you had been touring the residence, you noticed her wandering eyes, ensuring your belongings were exactly where she had instructed them to be.

Denying dinner as you did not have an appetite, you were ready for bed quicker than normal. Everything was there. Anything and everything you owned had been placed in the quarters exactly like how you had them back at your previous residence.

Homesick.

That was the best word to describe how you were feeling. Wanting nothing more than to return back there and get into the bed you had slept in for years, with the same people around you that you knew like the back of your hand, on the same planet that had been your home your entire existence.

Instead, you were in an unknown place. On a ship you couldn’t begin to fathom the size of, surrounded by people you had never seen or knew of your own existence or purpose, in a bed that was foreign to you, staring out the massive window at some distant stars, wondering where your husband was.

This was not home. It would never be home.

You had always dreamed of your wedding day. Wearing the perfect gown, having had a picture perfect ceremony, followed by an evening full of laughter and love. Having said your beautiful vows to the person you loved most. Looking forward to spending the rest of your life with them by your side.

What did that even look like? A fairytale life where you slept next to them every night, talking and laughing about fond times shared. Thinking about what your respective tasks looked like the following day. Possibly thinking about children in the near future. The picture perfect life.

Yet, here you laid, entirely alone, having no one to talk to until you fell asleep. No one to wake up next to and be happy that their face was the first one you saw every day. Alone. You had never felt so alone. Hot tears escaped your eyes, hand landing over your mouth to stifle your sobs.

You were living a nightmare.

#ficthots #kylo ren #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x y/n #kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo smut #kylo ren smut #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine

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iwantjaketosullyme · 1 year

Text

𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ᴘᴀʀᴛ Ⅳ: ᴍɪʟᴋ, ʜᴏɴᴇʏ, ʜᴀʀᴍᴏɴɪᴇꜱ

➺ pairing: aged up!lo'ak x f!metkayina!reader (fluff) ➺ series summary: lovesick!lo'ak does all he can to win the heart of oblivious!reader ➺ chapter summary: ❝ Sullys stick together, so he knows that his disappointment will be cut into little pieces and divided equally amongst his family members, another burden shared. ❞ (w/c: 3.1k) ➺ warnings: kiri nd tuk bullying lo'ak (he had it coming), throwing up (minor), lo'ak is still a silly billy🤭 a/n: sully shenanigans continue ! i'm making tuk 10 yrs old in this even tho everyone else is 5 yrs older. if she was human, tuk would defo mutilate her barbie dolls then beg jake to buy her more. someone needs to save lo'ak, reader rlly thinks everything is life or death lmaooo. na'vi dictionary at the end :)

« 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬┃𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭┃𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 »

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.�� .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

It is evening. Eywa has strung the stars in the sky, illuminating her dear Eywa’eveng with the same tanhi that litter the skin of her children. The constellations are visual retellings of the stories of humble Na’vi made legend after achieving exploits for their people, a reminder of the greatness found in unity.

All clan activities have wound down – the fishers have hung up their nets, divers have inspected their findings and hunters have laid down their spears. At the centre of the shore blazes a strong and defiant bonfire. Its flames are fanned and fuelled by the life that pulses in the Metkayina gathered around it who convene to share tales of the day’s events.

The soft scraping of fingertips on wooden bowls fills the air as separate family units come together to share a communal meal and enjoy the spoils of the day’s hunt. A myriad of voices can be heard; the croak of an aged elder, the babble of a babe and the peeved huff of a particular young Na’vi male.

Over the din of the clan’s combined chatter, Lo’ak’s expression of his annoyance is only heard by those that are sat right next to him. On his right-hand side sits Neteyam, who is half-concerned about what it is that has his baby bro so upset, but simultaneously trying to keep up with Tuk’s recounting of the scenarios she had made her figurines act out today.

On the other side of Lo’ak sits Kiri, who is praying to the Great Mother in her head, begging for the grace not to hit him if he sighs one more time.

“Hey Lo’ak, are you going to tell us what’s wrong or are you going to keep sitting there with a face like a slapped palulukan’s arse?” Kiri’s voice cuts off Tuk’s rambling, the girl deciding to take matters into her own hands. She couldn’t bear seeing his pinched expression in her peripheral vision for a second longer. Her remark brings the attention of the whole family onto Lo’ak, whose brow only furrows further in lieu of a response.

Scandalised by such a comment from her daughter (who typically had her head too high up in the clouds to engage in petty name-calling), Neytiri’s face flushes in shock. At the same time, Jake struggles to suppress a chuckle and manages to cover it up with a faux-stern “Kiri!”, forehead creasing into a frown that is nearly convincing enough. Nearly.

It was easy to see that something was off with Lo’ak – where he would usually have scarfed down his helping of food in the first five minutes of the meal and spent the rest of it badgering Tuk and Kiri for the food in their bowls with a cheeky ‘are you gonna eat that?’, he’d been pushing the same piece of fish around for the past thirty minutes.

If that was not enough of a sign, the clearest indication of his displeasure could be seen in his tail that hangs limply in the sand behind him, or his folded-back ears that had not even perked up at the sound of Tuk’s stories, for which he usually provided the sound effects.

It was for these reasons that nobody was truly surprised at Kiri’s outburst. They had just been hoping that Lo’ak would open up without being prompted first.

With the hubbub of the clan’s numerous conversations in the background, Lo’ak’s silence is loud. While he is embarrassed to have been caught in the act of sulking (Eywa, he couldn’t even mourn a love that died before it lived in peace), he is more so hesitant to declare his premature failure to the people who had been so ardently supportive of his romantic pursuit.

Sullys stick together, so he knows that his disappointment will be cut into little pieces and shared equally amongst his family members, another burden shared. But Lo’ak is tired of being a burden, and has been for a while.

Ever the attentive older brother, Neteyam recognises the resignation in the hunch of his shoulders. Planting a warm, comforting hand on one of them, he chances a gentle coax, “Tell us what’s up baby bro, I’m listening.”

Realising that the family will not be satisfied until he supplies an answer, Lo’ak heaves a final sigh before revealing what has been troubling him – to nobody’s surprise, you. He relays an abridged version of the conversation the two of you had in the afternoon, purposefully leaving out the part where he too had laid his soul bare.

As he discloses his grievances, Lo’ak’s eyes are cast downwards, anxious fingers fiddle with the songcord attached securely to his tewng. His new favourite pastime is pondering over which trinkets he will choose to signify your and his union, your first child and the countless other life events he longs to share with you. What he would choose, he corrects mentally.

After your proclamation of seeing him as merely a friend earlier today, his future projections of a life with you are now conditional, a distant alternative in the far-away realm of possibility.

Eventually gaining enough courage to look up from his lap, he shares the news of his relegation to the dreaded friend zone, which to him is a fate more damning than exile. He finishes by imploring somewhat desperately, “So how do I make her want me back?”

The most unlikely of advisors in the affairs of romance answers. “You can’t. And you will never be able to,” Tuk declares. Quite frankly, she is already tired of this conversation and has not forgiven Lo’ak for indirectly interrupting her storytelling. His moping around has shifted everyone’s attention away from her and onto him. She will make him pay, if it’s the last thing she does.

Flabbergasted to the point of agitation, Lo’ak’s head whips to the side to grill Tuk, beaded braids smacking his face in his haste. “And how would you know, huh?” He continues with a sing-song quality in his voice, “You’re still a baby.”

After releasing a petulant huff of indignation, Tuk replies, “Because you’re a boy so you have cooties, duh!” Endlessly tired of having her opinions disregarded because of her young age, she drives her point further. “I bet she won’t even talk to you if you don’t talk to her first!”

Lo’ak’s initial reaction is one of hurt. Still insecure in the status of his relationship with you, he is especially sensitive to criticism, even if it comes from his kid sister. In spite of this, although he would never admit it, Tuk’s childish banter breaks Lo’ak from the bondage of his melancholy and is a welcomed reprieve from the unchartered waters of love he has been struggling to navigate.

Thus, he allows himself to be enraptured by the familiar push and pull of sibling rivalry and resolves to do all he can to prove that his belief in your love is not just fuelled by fantasy.

“Oh, you wanna bet?” His sudden determination to make your feelings towards him evident becomes a quick priority, even though he is not too sure of them himself and that was the exact reason for his previous sulking. “Go on,” Lo’ak goads, “pick the forfeit.”

Knowing that there is no way that this will end well but also knowing both siblings are too far gone to be dissuaded now, Jake, Neytiri, Kiri and Neteyam separately reach the same conclusion. Better to sit back and watch it all unfold than attempt to meddle. This is gonna be a long night.

“Loser has to give up their yovo fruit for a month!” Tuk responds, a challenging glint present in her large eyes. She is well aware that yovo fruit is Lo'ak's dessert of choice and cannot wait to delight in the pained look on his face when he is denied of it.

Spurred on by the flair for showmanship that he most definitely inherited from his father, Lo’ak shakes his head and demands higher stakes. “Nah, that’s too easy. What’s something you really want?”

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth,Tuk responds, “Well…I do need some new figurines to play with…” and looks at Lo’ak expectantly, waiting for him to connect the dots.

“Already??” Lo’ak asks, confused. “I made you a new ikran toy like two months ago, what happened to him?” Blessed with an uncanny knack for woodwork, Lo’ak was Tuk’s preferred manufacturer of the figurines that were the subjects of her elaborate storylines, some of which were cause for concern.

“She was a girl. And I just lost her tragically in battle. IED. You would know if you were listening.” Tuk likes her play time to be as realistic as possible. She quite literally simulated an IED explosion by throwing the figurine in the central fire of the marui used for cooking, when nobody was looking. All that remains of the fallen comrade is the pile of ashes Lo’ak stares at accusingly later in the night when he returns home.

“Okay, what about the toruk Dad made for Neteyam that was passed down to Kiri, who passed it down to me, who passed it down to you?” Their father had spent months crafting that particular piece and it was a cherished part of each of their childhoods. There’s no way Tuk would dare destroy it.

Undeterred, Tuk answers. “He’s senile. Not fit for flight and too slow for guerilla warfare. It’s an ikran eat ikran world out there y’know.” She completes her explanation with a casual shrug, as if to say ‘well, what can you do?’

Caught in the crossfire, Jake willfully ignores that she looks at him when saying the word senile. She had been taking advantage of every chance to remind him of his age ever since he and Neytiri made the terrible mistake of trying to introduce her to the idea of them having another baby. Her firm belief in her right to be the baby of the family was not to be questioned. Ever.

Lo’ak groans and throws his head back in exasperation. He misses the days when the best comeback Tuk had was sticking her tongue out at him. As the years go by, more and more of Kiri’s effortless sass rubs off on her and he always seems to be her victim of choice. Eywa’s justice for him teasing her mercilessly when she was little, he admits to himself, albeit begrudgingly.

“Fine!” He relents, “bet’s on! I’m gonna make her fall for me and you’re gonna kiss my big, blue, striped a-”

“Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk’itan!” “Boy if you don’t-”

Neytiri and Jake’s respective exclamations of admonishment cut Lo’ak off swiftly, identical disapproving glares putting an effective end to the verbal tug of war he and Tuk had been engaged in.

Naturally assuming the role of peacemaker, Neteyam raises both his hands in a sign of caution, attempting to diffuse the situation before it escalates any further. He then turns to Lo’ak and with a teasing smirk tells him, “Forget all this bet talk, bro. You’d better go pray to the Great Mother because your skxawng ass needs all the help you can get.”

His gaze softens when he becomes serious again, smirk melting into a genuine smile. “If you get her blessing, your courtship is sure to succeed, baby bro!”

Ruled by his propensity to act rashly, Lo’ak does not detect the sincerity in Neteyam’s advice and brushes him off. “Nah bro, I got this. Lemme let Eywa have a rest day for once, alright?”

Neteyam and Kiri share an incredulous look; was this the same man that looked one prod away from tears a few moments ago?

He will do this his way. A Sully man through and through, Lo’ak ups the ante.

With renewed vigour, Lo’ak crams handfuls of fish into his mouth as he devises a plan to get your attention, his appetite returning with a vengeance. As he plots, Tuk resumes her storytelling and the family falls back into the lull of easy conversation.

(*for atmosphere, you can play 'na'vi river journey ride through' here*)

Soon after, the long, low and heavy note of the clan horn carries over the shore, signalling the end of the communal meal and the prompt beginning of communal worship. Designated Na’vi make their way around the bonfire, collecting the gourds that the meal had been served on. The gathered Metkayina set their used bowls aside, placing them behind the logs they are sat on before rising to their feet.

This moment coincides with Lo’ak’s thoughts aligning, finally settling on the plan he will put in motion.

Subtlety is key, he surmises. He needs to be suave, mysterious, intriguing. No lady can resist the charm of a smouldering gaze, after all. With the image of every elusive male protagonist in the tawtute romance films he had watched at the forefront of his mind, Lo’ak fixes his face into what he thinks to be a firm, guarded expression and sets his gaze on you. To him, he looks like he is brooding in the corner of the evening gathering, veiled countenance emitting an allure that is sure to attract you to him.

When the singing has commenced and you still have not turned to face him despite him practically burning holes into your face with the strength of his stare, he beckons you over in his head. As he struggles to keep the intense look on his face for an extended period of time, a vein bulges prominently from his forehead. For the first time, he finds himself jealous of Payakan, wishing he had the ability to communicate with echolocation like the tulkun.

Swaying in time with the rhythm of the beat being drummed by the clan percussionists, you are brought out of your reverie by a short nudge from Tsireya. Once she has your attention, she points a clandestine finger in Lo’ak’s direction. Focus shifting to where she is pointing, you observe Lo’ak and the expression on his face. He appears to be…pained?

Your eyes are full of concern as they meet his, look to your left, look to your right and meet his again, noticing that his unwavering gaze remains on you. You pat Tsireya’s back, indicating your exit before crouching down and slinking towards Lo’ak, weaving between the singing Metkayina around you.

He sees you coming his way and thinks well, looks like Tuk owes me a whole lotta yovo fruit. As the distance between the two of you reduces, his anticipation for what you will say mounts to the point where he feels he could almost burst. For the second time today, he awaits your words with baited breath.

“Oh my Eywa, Lo’ak are you constipated?” Up close, he looks even more disturbed than he did from afar. The pinched together eyebrows, clenched fists and pursed lips – from your training as a healer you recognise these as the telltale signs of constipation. “Good thing I always keep a stash of paywll leaves on me!” You reach into the pouch of herbs slung around your torso, medical mode activated and ready to treat him.

His hand shoots forward to stop you from going any further with your movements, touching yours in the process. He becomes so overwhelmed by the direct skin on skin contact that he gets all flustered, looking worse than he already did. He wants to tell you that he’s perfectly fine and this is a big misunderstanding but he can’t. Riddled with nerves, his throat swells up and blood rushes to his cheeks in embarrassment. He’s blushing.

Continuing your spontaneous medical examination, you press a hand to his cheeks. His temperature is burning hot. How could you be so silly? You chide yourself mentally. He’s clearly suffering from food poisoning!

Thinking back, you remember that the hunting party had returned to the village with the catch of the day a little later than usual. Perhaps the cooks were in such a hurry they undercooked some of the fish?

Before he can so much as say ‘I’m a silly skxawng’, you’re dragging him by the wrist until you are a short distance away from the gathered clan, behind the cover of a tall tautral plant.

He does not get the chance to ask you to explain yourself before you turn him around to face you and shove two of your three fingers down his oesophagus. If he thought the first time he met you was the most embarrassing moment of his life, this current moment quickly proved him wrong.

Not only was he forced by the triggering of his gag reflex to pass up the contents of his stomach, he was doing it in a spot that was not far enough away to ensure no other clan member would hear the nauseating sounds, even over the sound of singing. Making matters worse, in his sorry attempt to psych himself up before executing his plan, he had eaten a behemoth amount of food. And now, there is a behemoth amount for him to pass up.

When he appears to have fully emptied the contents of his stomach, you crouch down to be level with his bent-over figure.

“All better?” You ask.

“Y-yeah,” his voice cracks pitifully. “Much better.” He nods his head, as if convincing himself. “Thanks.”

Lo’ak looks up to find a dopey smile on your face and he knows that you must be happy to have saved him again, because he is happy to have been ‘saved’ by you again. Even though things didn't go as he had planned, as he looks into the depths of your eyes he cannot bring himself to regret a single thing.

He returns to the fellowship after a little while, painfully aware that at least parts of the debacle had been audible. He is met by sympathetic looks from his family, barring one person. Tuk.

She refuses to give him anything even though he had technically won the bet – you did talk to him first. Adamant, she insists that he still owes her a month’s worth of yovo fruit and a new toy. When he presses, attempting to stand his ground, she narrows her eyes menacingly and calls for Neytiri with a mighty “Sa’nu!” and Lo’ak knows that the odds are woefully against him.

As he predicted, Neytiri forces him to make the toy for her anyway.

Knowing he is now at her mercy, Tuk demands, “I want this one to be a tsurak. Blue, yellow and green.” Lo’ak turns to leave, but she is still going. “And don’t you dare cut corners this time!”

He turns back to find her in a bossy little pose, arms crossed over her chest. “I noticed the smudge in the paint on the last one, penis face.”

Lo’ak pivots to look to his mother for support, but she is already walking down the pathway, inwardly questioning why she decided to have four children.

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

na’vi dictionary

eywa’eveng- na’vi word for pandora // tanhi - na’vi bioluminescent freckles // palulukan - thanator // tewng - loincloth // yovo- type of Na’vi fruit // ikran - mountain banshee // toruk- great leonopteryx // marui - tent // skxawng - idiot // paywll - dapophet (healing plant) // tautral- beanstalk palm // sa’nu - mummy // tsurak- skimwing

☼ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵:

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𝘭𝘮𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰/𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 <3