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#just like he did over a decade ago in the first war. but then he's locked up and unable to do anything useful :((((
stararch4ngelqueen · 4 months
Note
Self indulgent but … thanksgiving w a gf who loves the holidays but doesn’t have family or friends to spend them with ?
This is really small and super quick, I hope you enjoy it! I do hope you have a wonderful day! (Also went ahead and incorporated two things I made today just because my mind is too lazy to think of anything else. If you don’t like them, womp womp/jk Pretend Gotham War dosent exist)
Time written - 8:09 p.m
“You sure I’m not invading in on their celebration?” You vocalize your concern for about the fiftieth time after smoothing out your final layer of fluffy, whipped concoction for your dessert dish.
“If anything, Alfred will appreciate one less dessert to make.” Jason responds, casually leaning across the countertop across from you, watching you work your magic on making one of your miracle dishes. While you didn’t necessarily have to bring a dessert, you insisted as a show of good faith.
“It’ll give the old man a reason to sit down for once,” Jason adds, referring to Alfred’s insistence upon waiting by everyone until they got full plates and thoroughly enjoyed a majority of their meals.
You kept asking the same question, just with different rephrasing of words. You were nervous, Jason could see that by the way you smoothed the silicone spatula over the top of your dessert for the tenth time, insisting perfection on something that already tasted heavenly.
Jason would know. He’s always your designated taste tester.
You went above and beyond with everything you did; Making your own whipped cream, using Madagascar vanilla beans, making your own pudding base from scratch.
“Babe.”
“Hm?” You respond with a concentrated stare on your dish.
“Look at me real quick.”
You spare a short glance up at him, putting up a sweet front of a smile. “What? I’m almost done, Jay.”
“I know,” Jason curts. “I’m sure they’ll love it.”
You nod, swallowing before focusing again on the top of your dish. You picked up the recipe from an online blog article about three years ago; an upgrade on a traditional banana pudding using heavy cream and expensive flavoring, the dessert reeking of pure holiday that had to be shared with the rest of the world.
“Are you sure this looks okay?” You ask, feeling like the top of the dessert needed a lot more than wafer cookies and bananas. Nuts? Caramel drizzle?
“It looks great,” Jason insists, approaching your side of the counter, settling his hand along your hip. “Scratch that. It looks delicious, incredible, mouthwatering. All the good words, sweetheart.”
You can’t help but smile, your cheeks warming with his compliments. Raising your whipped cream spoon to his mouth, you tap his bottom lip before giving him a kiss, hearing his muffled chuckle shortly after.
“Decadent,” He adds, licking his bottom lip of any remaining, perfectly sweet cream. “Perfect. Believe me, Dick and Alfred will never see any banana pudding the same way again.”
You could only hope so, giving him another smile. You liked making this dish, bringing it to your work during little dinner parties. The loudest compliment was a dish scraped empty, yet no one ever asked for the recipe. No one wondered who made it, no one really asked.
“You sure it looks perfect?” Again, your doubts can’t help but have you repeat your broken vinyl record. “I want it to be perfect.”
“It is perfect,” Jason gently reassures with firm sentiment, giving your cheek a soft squeeze. You set your mind to something, you keep at it until you’re perfectly satisfied. As stubborn as it makes you, you always try above your best.
This was your first official gathering with the entirety of Jason’s family. It wasn’t your first, as you’ve been over a few times before for pizza and burgers for movie nights, but never with every single Bat related member at a large, ornately decorated table in an extravagant dining room.
Especially, never with Bruce. Not until tonight, where they’d have a little private event to themselves at the manor. A rare occasion where masks and secret identities weren’t needed. Sometimes, criminal behaviors didn’t allow them a break, so this was truly a treat.
Dick could be himself, fussing over preferences of pumpkin and sweet potato to an annoyed Tim. Babs would scoff her amusement while recording them to show off during Christmas, and the rest would gawk or scoff, chatting amongst themselves or listening in on such a boisterous conversation.
This time, the special guest would be you; the girl Red Hood was sweet on long before you knew his name, becoming the sole guardian of every important identity of the Wayne family.
“Trust me. They invited you, it’ll just be us. It was a big vote with no one opposing.”
Those words brought a more comforting, genuine smile to your face, one Jason could tell was more truthful. Holidays were joyfully dreadful to spend alone in an empty home, the promise of a manor full of friendly faces happy to see you, happy to spend time with you and incorporate you into a tradition you desperately craved was a godsend. It felt too good to be true.
The best part of it all was how much Jason understood. He didn’t celebrate these kinds of holidays when he was a child. No foster family, or even his own mother, could spare enough money to provide grand meals and hours of spending time with people you care for.
It took him a long time to get used to it, he wanted that for you as well. You deserved it after all, they all liked you in their own unique way.
“I’m sure a solid nine out of ten attendants will enjoy those sugar cookie martinis,” Jason murmurs while adjusting a few strands of your hair, reminding you of the one underage family member that ‘tolerated’ your presence.
“Do they got a full stock of vanilla vodka?”
“Course they do. Personally know Bruce has a ton of amaretto.”
“‘Personally?’”
“All those bottles for our dates, babe. Grabbed them all from somewhere.”
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thelov3lybookworm · 8 months
Note
Can I ask somthing? You can totally ignore this if you're not comfortable!! Can you write somthing like reader has been SA'ed before and az or cass or Rhys(your choice who) doesn't know this and tries to take things to 3rd base but reader gets really uncomfortable and tells them what she's been through so the bat boy comforts her saying he'll wait however long he has to for her, holding her and then goes all angry psycho on the person who SA'ed her.
(I was SA'ed a few years ago and the 'date' is coming closer that's why I just need somthing to keep my mind distracted. Plzzzz ignore this if you aren't comfortable with it!! I totally understand!)
Finally Safe
Summary: Reader is the youngest of the Vanserra's, but like Lucien, is the daughter of Helion. She has a pretty dark past that she doesn't even want to think about, and so, no one other than she herself knows about it.
When her mate tries to take things further in their relationship, everything she has kept inside herself comes spilling out.
•○●⛦●○•
A/n: Hi my love! I am soo glad that you sent this ask, it makes me so happy (this one is the first fic request I've received! I also feel extremely honored that you chose me for writing such a sensitive topic).
Also, I'm soo sorry that you had to go through that! I've never had any experience with SA or anyone who went through it, so I'm not sure if I can write something that really captures the depth of the situation, but I did listen to a few SA stories and podcasts ('Rotten Mango' podcasts, if any of you wanted to know) and I'll try my best with this.
Also, I've had this story idea for like a year now since I finished reading acosf, so I'm going with Azriel for this one.
Aaand I tried to make it as long as possible, hope it what you wanted to read.
Hope you like it! Enjoy!
Tw: mentions of SA, not graphic torture scene under '•○●⛦●○•', none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.
•○🌑○•
Everywher her eyes went, there was darkness.
All she could hear, laughter, grunts and disgusting words spewed from equally disgusting mouths.
All she could smell was sweat, her own tears, and things she didn't want to think about.
All she could feel was the nauseating touches of a male she didn't know and the cool ground under her back.
All she could taste was the bile climbing up her throat.
She just wanted it to be over. She just wanted them to leave so she could curl up into a ball and cry herself to sleep.
Why?
She kept asking herself.
Why me?
She would probably never get the answer to it. And even if she did, she'd never understand how someone could do something as horrible as this.
Then she started screaming. As she always did.
•○🌑○•
Y/n jerked up, her chest heaving. She sat up, scooting back towards the headboard and pressing herself against it, tugging the blankets to cover herself as her eyes frantically searched around for any sign of movement in her chambers.
Of course, there was no one, but the fear never went away. Probably never would.
Long moments went by as she tried to calm herself, telling herself that she was safe. That she wasn't in that dungeon anymore. That she was far from it, she was in Day Court.
Her actual father's domain, apparently.
Soon after Amarantha had trapped everyone Under the Mountain, her mother had broken the news to her. That she wasn't Beron's daughter, but Helion's. And then, secretly, over the decades, Helion and Y/n had started to spend more time together. Her father was guilty that he hadn't been there for her when she was a kid, and so the two of them tried to make up for the time they had lost.
Y/n shook her head, laying down again and deciding to atleast try to get some sleep. There was going to be an important meeting in a few hours, and all the High Lords were going to arrive for the meeting. For planning the course of the war against Hybern.
She needed all the sleep she could get as it would be very stressful and she was supposed to be present as her father's Second in Command.
Still, she could not sleep. Knowing she would not be able to sleep anytime soon, she finally stood and made her way to the washing chamber when the watery rays of sunlight filtered in through the window.
She scrubbed herself raw in scalding hot water in hopes of washing away all the phantom stickiness she still felt on her body. After that, she got dressed in a white and golden flowy gown, the colours of Day.
Being the second of command of Helion wasn't the only reason she wrote this colours.
It would also be making a statement. That she had chosen Day Court over Autumn Court.
Beron knew she wasn't his daughter. He also thought that she was picked up from a dumpster. That's what Lady of Autumn had told him.
When she was pregnant with Y/n, she had stayed away from Beron for months, and when she returned, she returned with a newborn, saying she found the baby on the side of a road near a dumping ground. Beron didn't care as long as he was not concerned in the child's upbringing.
After Feyre had ended Amarantha's reign, Y/n had left the Autumn Court, making the excuse that she wanted to settle somewhere else.
And that's how she had ended up in Day. She had tried her best to convince Helion not to do this, as it could put relations between the two courts in jeopardy, especially as Beron would see it as a sign of betrayal. But he didn't care.
Y/n just prayed to the cauldron that the meeting would go without anyone dying.
•○🌑○•
She stepped into the airy meeting area, her dress fluttering around her feet.
The guards outside had informed her that the High Lords from Dawn and Summer Court had arrived quite some time ago, and Night Court had just come just moments before she did.
All eyes went to her, and all the Lords' eyes lit with recognition. She just gave a then a polite smile, before grinning at Rhys, who grinned back and pulled her into a hug.
"She was a friend Under the Mountain." He told his Inner Circle, pulling back from her. She nodded at the members that were present before her eyes landed on an Illyrian standing near a doorway, his eyes alert and on the High Lords.
As if sensing her gaze, he glanced at her. And when he did, everything in the world stopped. At least for Y/n.
Snap.
Her body locked up, her eyes widening. She stared and stared at him. She vaguely heard her name being called, but she couldn't process it.
"Y/n?" Her father touched her arm and she jerked back, gasping. She looked up at him, her eyes frantic. He had a confused smile on his face. She took a deep breath, pulling an indifferent mask on.
"Yes?"
"Are you okay? You look alarmed." She swallowed, glancing at the winged male to see if he had felt it too. By the confusion lacing his featured, he hadn't. She tried not to let her disapointment show.
"Yes. I'm fine."
Her father nodded, unconvinced as he gave her a look that said we'll talk about this.
Then she felt a tap on her mental shields. She opened a pathway and let Rhys in.
What is it? He questioned.
She thought for a moment before answering. Mate.
His eyes lit up and he smiled. That's amazing.
She nodded and walked to her seat, plopping down on it.
As everyone waited for others to arrive, Y/n couldn't help but keep glancing at the male.
Beautiful. He was beautiful.
As the meeting progressed, she kept chiming in with her suggesting but not really paying attention, completely avoiding looking at Beron. She also learned that the male's –her mate's– name was Azriel. She knew she had heard the name before, but couldn't place where.
But she would, soon enough.
•○🌑○•
"My dear, what happened back there?" Helion asked as soon as he and his daughter were alone.
She turned to him helplessly. "He–he was–is, my mate."
His brows furrowed. "Azriel?" When she nodded, a smile as bright as the Court he ruled over spread across his face. "You found your mate! You must tell him! Oh Mother, I'll hold a ball in your honor. I–"
"Dad. Who is he?" She would've called him father if not for his very pouty request that she call him dad. Father sounded too formal, according to him.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. How could I forget! He's the Spymaster of the Night Court."
Her jaw dropped. "The feared Spymaster of Night Court?" He nodded happily. "Then should we not be scared? Doesn't he have... quite the reputation?"
"That he does, but from what I've gleaned from my centuries, he's a sweetheart with people he cares about. Atleast, that's what Rhysand has been telling me. If he's lying, I'll be very sad."
Y/n couldn't believe it. One of the most feared male in all of Prythian was her mate. Her gods darned mate.
She didn't know how she would tell him, considering she had never had an interaction with him. Still, she'll have to figure it out.
Because, feared or not, he deserved to know.
•○🌑○•
After the war.
She had realised that any one of them could die at any moment after the war, and then she'll feel guilt for not telling her mate about the bond. And so, she wanted to get to know him first. She had no idea how she'd do that, but her father did.
The war was over, but that didn't mean that everything was fine. And so, under the excuse of strengthening ties with the Night Court, her father had sent Y/n to help in Velaris. Of course, when she had called his bluff, he had acted innocent and declared he didn't know what she was talking about.
So now, it had been a week off her staying in Velaris, and she hadn't had any sort of conversation with Azriel except for a few polite smiles here and there.
She was in a room right next to Azriel, which Rhys claimed had nothing to do with their bond.
She huffed and turned onto her side, trying to fall asleep.
That was when she felt a panicked tug on the bond. She practically flew out of her bed and into Azriel's room to find him writhing on the bed. It was pitch dark, his shadows frantic.
She quickly made her way towards the bed, realising he was having a nightmare. She gently placed her hand on his bare shoulder, tying to wake him up because she didn't know what else to do.
She shook him slowly so as not to startle him, but when he didn't wake up, she put a little more force into it.
Which was, she realised a little too late, was the wrong thing to do.
One second, she was kneeling on his bed trying to wake him up. The next, she was pinned on the mattress, Azriel snarling in her face, one of his hands wrapped around her throat, the other clutching her hands above her head. But that wasn't what caused her breathing to grow shallow or her instincts to scream at her to flee.
No. It was the fact that she was helpless as she was pressed into the mattress.
Dark dungeons.
Beron's Second in Command sneering at her.
Her screams.
She couldn't breathe she couldn't breathe she—
Suddenly, the weight was lifted from her body, her hands free and the grip around her throat vanishing. She gasped, scrambling to sit up and scoot away from Azriel, who was kneeling in front of her with a horrified expression.
"I– I'm so sorry. I didn't mean–"
Y/n shook her head, trying to find her voice. "It's okay." She rasped.
"Did I hurt you?" She shook her head. He seemed to think for a moment. "Did I scream?" When she shook her head again, his eyes narrowed. "Then how did you know I was having a nightmare?"
She paled. "I just thought you– I didn't..." She knew lying to him would be futile, he was a damned Spymaster for a reason. So she swallowed and told him the truth. "I felt it."
She did not meet his eyes, though he stared at her. "How?"
She stayed silent. A few moments passed before she sighed and tugged on the bond. Gently at first. When he gave no reaction, she tugged harder.
He gasped, leaning forward and clutching his chest, staring at her with wide eyes. It felt like eternity had passed before he finally spoke.
"How–how long have you known?"
She looked at him as she cleared her throat. "Since the High Lords' meeting. Before the war."
"That's why you kept staring at me. Why didn't you say anything?"
"I wanted to get to know you first. I was scared."
He seemed to have regained his composure as he nodded. He stayed quiet for a moment. "Do you– do you want the bond? It's okay if you don't want it. Want me. I know my reputation isn't... the best."
"I want this Azriel. I just want to get to know you more before we accept the bond."
A smile stretched across his face, stealing Y/n's breath away.
"Then... how do you feel about getting dinner tomorrow?"
She smiled. "I would like that. Very much."
•○🌑○•
It had been a few months since that night, and Azriel and Y/n had been courting each other traditionally, like they would have if they weren't mates.
They took it slowly. Just last month they had shared their first kiss.
They had told each other everything about their pasts. She knew all about Azriel and he knew all about her. Except that one thing that not even her father knew. It wasn't as if she didn't want to tell him. She just didn't know how to.
As she knocked on the door to his new home, she wondered if she should tell him today. Better late then never, right?
He opened the door, an instant grin spreading on his face as he opened the door wide.
"Welcome home love." He mumbled, kissing her temple as she passed by him. She smiled and set the box in her hands on the corner where the other boxes were. "Dinner's ready."
He had recently bought this house for the two of them. His stuff was already here, and the box Y/n had been carrying was the last of her belongings.
When she had insisted that she could bring her stuff herself and didn't need him, he had declared that he'd be cooking dinner then.
They sat in comfortable silence as they ate. After the plates had been cleared away, he forced her to sit and relax while he did the dishes.
So as she sat on the kitchen counter, she told him of the new book she'd been reading. Soon enough, he had finished his work and was standing between her knees, leaning on his hands on either side of her hips, listening diligently as she finished her story.
"And that, my love, is how they got their happy ending." She flicked his nose.
He sighed. "I wonder if I'll get my happy ending tonight."
She giggled. "And what do you think your happy ending will be?"
"Just a few sweet kisses from my sweet sweet mate."
She laughed and kissed him. He smiled into the kiss.
It was amazing and dreamy, like she had always imagined and wanted her life with her mate to be like.
But the dreaminess of the moment soon started summoning her nightmares as Azriel's hand started to inch higher on her thigh, his other hand tugging her towards the edge of the counter.
Panic flared in her as she placed her hand on his chest, trying to push him away gently.
But then his hand brushed the waistband of her pants, and she pulled away with a gasp, her chest heaving. "No."
His brows furrowed as he searched her eyes. "What happened, darling?"
Tears formed in her eyes as those memories started creeping up on her. "No– not yet Azriel. I–I can't–"
Seeing those tears, his face softened with understanding. "Hey, its okay. We can wait. There's no hurry. Can you tell me what the matter is? Is it something I did?"
She shook her head, taking a deep breath. "A century ago, I was still living in Autumn Court. Beron's Second in Command hated me, for no other reason that I existed, apparently. He was always trying to get me executed or imprisoned. One time, he succeeded. He convinced Beron to throw me in the dungeon because I was being rebellious, according to him. A few days in the dungeon would discipline me. And–and that he would personally look over my imprisonment." As her voice broke on the last part, Azriel's hands clutched her own and squeezed.
She swallowed. "He... he did overlook my imprisonment. Quite personally too."
He searched her eyes, his face hard. "The guards? They did nothing?"
She laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "They enjoyed watching him... discipline me." She wiped her face with her sleeves. "I'm so sorry, you have to wait because of me–"
He shushed her. "One thing I always want you to remember is that it wasn't ever your fault. It was his. Never apologise for someone else's mistakes." She sniffled as he pulled her into his arms, her head resting on his shoulders as she wound her hands around the back of his shoulders. He clasped the back of her neck as his other hand rubbed her back. He then carried her to their new bedroom, while she clung to him like a child, all the while murmuring about how it wasn't her fault.
He sat her down on the bed, helped her change into her night clothes before laying her down and settling down next to her. She lay her head n his chest, breathing in his calming scent.
"Can you tell me his name, love?"
"Orvyn."
She could feel him nod. She wondered why he asked, but couldn't think straight as sleep started creeping in.
She would ask him tomorrow, she decided.
•○🌑○•
Azriel's pov.
He was alert as the footsteps became louder and louder, until that bastard came into view. Azriel wanted to gut him like a fish, but that would not calm his rage. So he calmly stepped out of his shadows, only enough that he could be heard without having to shout.
"Orvyn?" He questioned. The blonde male turned, squinting to make out who had called his name. "Are you the Second in Command?"
Azriel watched as his chest puffed at the mention of his title. "Yes. That's me. Who might you be?"
Then Azriel stepped completely away from the darkness concealing him and smirked. He prowled closer, noticing how fear entered Orvyn's eyes, and how he refused to back down.
But while he was busy staring at the Spymaster, he failed to notice the shadows winding around his legs and arms. When Azriel was close enough to him, he whispered. "Your death."
Orvyn's eyes widened as he opened his mouth to scream, but before he could even take a breath, Azriel had winnowed the both of them away to the dungeons. The place where his mate had been kept.
•○●⛦●○•
As the darkness cleared from his vision, he found that his shadows had already bound Orvyn to the wall, keeping him standing. Some of them held his hand next to his head while some had bound his mouth so he couldn't scream. And some had already gone to keep an eye on anyone who might be coming near, sealing the ears of the guards nearby.
Azriel smiled at Orvyn as he whispered. "Where shall we start?" He pulled out Truth–Teller and placed it near his fingers. "Here? I think that's a good idea."
And then, as slowly as he could, he cut off the bastard's fingers. The stench of piss hit the air. "What is this? I thought you were supposed to be very brave and powerful. What happened now? If you're crying and pissing yourself now, I wonder what you'll do when I carve your dick out. I'll do that, then maybe even take your eyes as souvenirs. What do you say? Oh, and also, I want you to know that I'm not doing this because I'm being paid for it or anything. I just found out you assaulted my mate. Remember? Her name was Y/n."
His eyes were wide in recognition as tears started streaming down his face and Azriel clicked his tongue. He pulled out another ordinary dagger from his array of weapons and stabbed it in his thigh.
Then he placed Truth–Teller on his face and set to work.
•○🌑○•
Y/n's pov.
She groaned as she blinked the sleep from her eyes and stretched her hand out in search of her mate's warm body. But all she came across were cold sheets.
She was confused as she sat up and looked around for any indication of where he might be. He would have left a note if he was going for work. Maybe he was in the kitchen.
So she got up and waddled down the stairs, hunting for her mate. But she couldn't find him anywhere in their home.
Where was he?
Just then, she heard the front door opening and she rushed to meet Azriel. She had already expected him to be out, and he had returned now. Maybe he'd been running some errands.
What she hadn't expected was for him to be covered in blood.
"Cauldron boil me! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" She asked, trying to usher him into the bathing room.
"What makes you think I'm hurt?" He raised an eyebrow.
She faltered. "Well, first of all, you look like you just took a swim in a pool of blood. Forgive me for expecting the worst." She began turning on faucets and filling the tub for him, adding oils into it before turning to him. Hurt or not, he would want to take a bath.
"I could have been doing my Spymaster things." He said, stripping and stepping into the water, sighing.
"Whenever you leave for work, you leave a note. Where were you, Azzie?"
"Just having some fun." When she continued to glare at him, he finally told her. "Hunting down bastards." She raised a brow. "Second in Command. Orvyn."
Her eyes widened. "What did you do to him?" He ignored her. "What did you do Azriel?"
So he told her everything in detail, so much so that she wanted to gag even as pride surged in her for her amazing mate. When he finished, he stood and toweled off, coming to stand in front of her.
She sighed. "Don't you think this could strain the already fragile relations between Night and Autumn? Beron could decide to attack–"
He grasped her jaw and tilted her head back as he leaned closer. "Y/n, I do not care about any of that."
"Are you sure? I remember you saying that you would do anything for this Court."
"Night Court is important for me, but not as much as you and your happiness. The whole of Prythian could go to hell if it meant you would be happy. Just say the word and I'd set the world on fire for you, my love."
Wetness gathered in her eyes and she furiously swiped at them. He pulled her hands away, smiling softly. "I don't want to cry." She choked out. He laughed and pulled her in for a hug. She wrapped her arms around him so tight she wondered if he would choke.
But he didn't do anything other than hug her back just as fiercely.
And finally, after all these years, Y/n felt like she was safe. Nothing could hurt her as long as she had her mate.
And she couldn't ask for anything more.
•○🌑○•
Taglist: @eos-princess
658 notes · View notes
cryptidghostgirl · 8 days
Text
Rapture (Alastor x Ex-Partner!Gn!Reader)
Pairing: Alastor x Reader
Warnings: ANGST.
Word Count: 3,000
Previous Part: Ritornello
Next Part: COMING SOON
Master Lists:
Master Lists 
Hazbin Hotel Master List
Rhapsody Master List
A/N I got a request a while ago to continue this so here is the next part!! Sorry for taking so long. When you guys request things,, it lets me get to them quicker which I appreciate (esp when its about my own projects) :)
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It had been about a month since Alastor had joined the hotel staff and things were going smoothly. Well, as smoothly as they could go when trying to rehabilitate sinners but, some good things had occurred. The best of them had been the addition of their newest guest: Sir Pentious.
Y/n had been suspicious of him at first, as had Vaggie and Angel Dust. They had heard of him before, fought with him in the past according to Pentious himself. Y/n knew the demon had a desire in him, a want to become what they despised most. It became quickly evident that when he had joined the hotel, Pentious had not only given up his war machines but that dream of his as well.
Settling in to the new pattern had been... difficult. It was such a strange thing for Y/n to be around Alastor. There had been a time, a long time, when they had known his every affect, the essence of his being. That time was gone. He was not the many they had known just as they were not the demon he had known. However, there was something that lingered between them still -- the memory. It filled the silent spaces, consumed the air. It was large and complicated.
The first week or so after his arrival, Y/n had been a wreck. They didn't cry, they didn't yearn for him, but they still suffered. It was so hard to escape the old patterns. Each demon found themselves nearly doing things, saying things, experiencing things that belonged in the lives they had once led, not the ones they were involved in now.
Y/n had stopped missing Alastor when their relationship with Charlie had solidified. Suddenly, despite the fact that he was right before their very eyes, inhabiting the same places as they did for the first time in three decades, it was almost like they were loosing him all over again.
Slowly, the need to stop themselves faded. There was no longer the necessity of catching the words in their throats, of pinning their hands to their sides, of burying questions or requests in the recesses of their minds because the need, or habit perhaps is the better word, began to fade. New routines came into being. The world kept turning.
Still, there was the odd awkward silence. Still, Y/n felt a tingle in their spine, butterflies in their stomach, when they ended up alone together. Alastor just smiled through it all, like he always had.
The only real step Alastor had taken that showed any emotion at all towards his former lover was that he blocked any contact Y/n had with Husk and Nifty. Y/n was intent on interrogating them, seeing what sort of a master he was, learning their stories and working to free them from their contracts. Alastor must have sensed this, must have guessed, drawing on his own experience with them, that they would want to do something like that. Every time Y/n managed to come even close to a moment alone with one of them or the appropriate environment for a more personal, private conversation, he appeared and shut it down.
If Y/n were younger, they would have thought it was a game. Perhaps some part of them still saw the competition in it all but, if they did, Alastor couldn't tell. They had changed -- god had they changed -- but, so had he. Change was what time did to a person. He couldn't blame them.
Alastor spent a lot of time watching Y/n. He wasn't sure why, for what he was searching. It was a compulsion. He searched for the bits and pieces he remembered of them, tried to fill the gaps between who they were, and the person standing before him now.
There had been some things he was able to observe. Firstly, Y/n's diet had changed. While before they had eaten whatever was available, now they seemed only ever to eat raw meet. Alastor had absolutely no idea why and the only plausible reason he could come up with was simply that they liked it. Second: where Y/n used to spend hours composing, messing around with various instruments and musical genres, they were rarely found with even their lute in their hand nowadays. Alastor knew that a busier schedule provided by Charlie and the hotel could be at fault but, that answer was unsatisfying. Y/n loved music more than anything, more even, Alastor was almost certain, than they had loved him.
There were a handful of other small details, minor things about the way they held themselves, the musicality of their voice as they spoke. Then there was the biggest change, the cloud looming over his head. This was the way Charlie had changed them.
The days of Y/n running off, rushing away mid conversation, were gone. They regulated their emotions with much greater ease now, Alastor had even caught them doing breathing exercises a few times. There was a certain sense of freedom he hadn't seen them hold within themselves in a long time, not since they had first gotten together. While on the one hand he was happy for them, grateful beyond belief that Charlie had managed to help them regain that sense of themselves, it hurt on the other. It hurt so much because he had tried and this was the evidence that the failure had been his, not theirs. He had tried, he had given them his all, and it hadn't been enough but somehow, in some way, Charlie had been.
Charlie had been enough for Y/n. Charlie had... had... Alastor hadn't.
Something had happened. Alastor didn't know what because it had happened without him. If he had had the chance to talk to Y/n about the interim, the time they had spent apart, he would have. The thing was, Y/n didn't seem too keen on the idea of a private chat.
They were never rude to him. No, they always kept a friendly lilt to their voice, said hello to him when their paths crossed. Alastor could tell they weren't avoiding him either. He knew that if they were, he would never see them at all and he saw them all the time so it wasn't that. Still, every chance he had, every spare moment they shared just the two of them, Y/n found a way to quickly and kindly exit the conversation.
Alastor could force them to engage with him, he knew that, but that had never been their style. There was no precedence for it. He lied to himself, saying it was just that he knew how Y/n would react if he tried to capture them, to force them into any situation they didn't want to be in. He needed to be at the hotel and Y/n had the power to remove him from his position. He told himself that, again and again, while the real reason lurked under the surface.
The truth of the matter was: Alastor did not want to force them. He never wanted to force Y/n to do anything, whether physically or through mental manipulation. Even the consideration of such action felt like a betrayal of them, of himself in a way, of what they had.
What had they even had? Alastor had been in love, loved Y/n still in an odd and nostalgic sense but, he was also angry with them. The newfound regret of having failed them mingled with the decades old infestation of anger, of feeling like they had failed him. At the end of the day, they were the one who had left first. Alastor might have said the words, pulled the trigger, but they were the one that left. They had withdrawn from him long before that conversation on the hill. Y/n committed the murder, allowing the corpse to dry out in the sun, to be picked apart by birds and wild animals. Alastor had just buried the body. It had been the right thing to do, it had been necessary.
Slowly, the silences between them lost most of their tension, became a bit more comfortable. Slowly, they each learned to inhabit their new roles in one another's lives. There had been something and, yes, that something was gone, but there was a new something growing in its place. Alastor had thought the ground was barren. He was grateful anything grew at all.
They were gathered in the lobby, Y/n running a workshop on how to properly wrap presents. Alastor, like the rest of the hotel staff, had been invited to participate but, he had opted to watch. It was a skill he already had, one he had no use for. There was no need to learn what he already knew, but watching Angel, Husk, Pentious, and Nifty struggle was entertaining.
"Okay, well..." Y/n put a finger to their chin, gazing at the box Nifty was holding up to them with pride.
It was perfectly wrapped in white paper with a big black bow on top. Beside the bow, Nifty had drawn a detailed picture of a cemetery for all the bugs she had killed in the hotel thus far.
"You did a great job." Y/n finally settled, patting Nifty on the shoulder, "Well done."
Nifty squealed in glee, turning to present the box to Angel for him to examen. Angel had managed to get tangled up in his project and, realizing this, Nifty quickly dropped her own in order to help him. Witnessing this, Y/n smiled.
Alastor felt the place where his heart would have skipped a beat if things weren't so complicated. He felt the lack of an emotional reaction almost more deeply than if he had had one.
Just as Y/n moved to help Nifty untangle Angel, Charlie bolted into the room.
"Y/n! Y/n Y/n Y/n! I figured it out! I finally figured it out!"
Y/n turned to Charlie as they came to a stop before them, breathing heavily. Their brow was furrowed, their head tilted slightly to the side in confusion.
"Figured what out, Sunshine?"
"Your curse?" Charlie replied as if Y/n should have known.
Y/n tensed. Charlie didn't notice, but Alastor did. He knew them too well not to. It also did not escape him how actively they were avoiding looking at him.
"Y/n, if you get redeemed, wont it go away? Curses can't exist in Heaven, can they?"
His mind was absolutely reeling. What curse? In all the years he had known them, Y/n had never once mentioned a curse. The others gathered seemed equally as surprised and at a loss as he felt.
"I..."
At last Y/n looked at Alastor. Though only a few seconds had passed since Charlie's revelation, it had felt like an eternity. Charlie followed the path of their gaze, the smile falling from her face immedeatly.
"Fuck, wait, I... fuck. I'm so sorry, I-"
Y/n took a deep breath, turning back to Charlie with a smile fixed firmly upon their face.
"It's alright."
"No!" Charlie insisted, "I swear, I di-"
"No, Charlie, it's alright. I told you, I stopped looking for a cure years ago."
"But you cou-"
"I don't want a cure." Y/n shook their head, taking Charlies hands in theirs, "I want to stay here, at the hotel. With you."
Almost as soon as Y/n had spoken, Charlie's eyes filled with tears.
"I... I..." she stuttered for a moment before throwing herself into Y/n's chest, "Thank you!"
Y/n patted Charlie's back with a comfort that was unexpected to Alastor's eyes. The look on their face as they pulled Charlie from them, wiping the girls tears, was a sort of kindness Alastor had never seen.
A curse? What curse?
A million questions flooded through his mind as he continued to watch the pair.
"I have some business to deal with, are you okay with me leaving?"
Charlie sniffed, nodding her head slightly.
"Do you want to help finish the workshop? We're wrapping presents."
"You're wrapping p-pr-presents? That's so sweet!"
Charlie's tears started anew and Y/n chuckled, ruffling her hair comfortingly.
"You sure you're okay if I go?"
"Just go." Angel advised, getting up and walking over to Charlie, "we can handle this."
Y/n shot him a grateful smile before turning on their heel and walking up to Alastor. He looked down at them, his expression unreadable.
"I'm ready to talk." they stated.
Alastor nodded.
"Let's go."
----
When the shadows released them from their grasp, Y/n half expected them to be on the hill, their old haunt. It would have been fitting for Alastor to do something like that and he had every right to be so cruel in their mind. Instead, he had brought Y/n in to their studio. The anger radiated off him, the confusion, and still he had thought to offer them such a kindness.
Y/n, their back to Alastor, balled their hands into fists. They could feel the panic rising in their chest, the fear. They took a few deep breaths before turning to face him.
"Do you want to ask me anything? Or do you just want me to talk."
Alastor crossed his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised as he tapped one foot impatiently on the hardwood floor.
"Stupid question." Y/n nodded, "Right."
They took one final steadying, breath and then, they began to speak.
"So, curse. Um... fuck."
It wasn't that they hadn't thought about what they would say before. They had. They had played this moment out in their mind in a hundred different ways a hundred different times. Nothing had ever seemed right, felt right, gone right. Even if it had, they had no idea of where to begin now. The memory of all that practice had been ushered out long ago by the anxiety.
"Some overlords got mad at me and cursed me?" they said at last, their words coming out as more of a question than a definitive truth, "I..."
"Is this why you always left? Is this..." Alastor ran a hand through his hair, looking away, "is this what your secret was? The curse?"
Y/n nodded and Alastor sighed.
"I know you must be furious." Y/n began, trying to keep their voice steady, "Angry that I was so foolish as to allow-"
"That's not why I am angry, Y/n." Alastor cut in, "That's not why..." he shook his head, "I am angry because you didn't tell me."
The breath caught in Y/n's throat. They took half a step back.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Halfway between an accusation and a plea. He was begging them, he had only done that once before. Y/n hadn't been strong enough then, but they were now.
"Because it was my burden to carry, not yours."
"I carried it anyways! I knew something was wrong, for years! I just had no idea what, no... no... frame of reference. Why didn't you tell me!?"
"I... I..." there was no hiding the truth, Y/n looked away, "I was scared that you would leave."
Alastor watched them in disbeleif.
"And you left anyway." they finished.
"I left because you didn't tell me. We could have stuck together, figured it out. We could have..."
It was Y/n's turn to be angry now. They turned back to him, their eyes alive with fire.
"We could have what?! You could have what?!" the scoffed, "You think I don't know it was all my fault?! You think I don't... don't blame myself for everything?! Didn't know why you really left?! Didn't... didn't realize?! I fucking know that you left because I didn't tell you! I know I caused... that I..." they let out a frustrated little scream, their hands tangling into their hair, "I. Know."
"You could have told me then, why didn't you? Why didn't you stop me if you knew you could!?"
"Because I was scared!"
Their eyes began to grow dark, their skin shifting and writhing like there were bugs crawling beneath its surface. Seeming to notice this, Y/n closed their eyes, taking a few deep breaths before opening them once again.
"Is that the curse?"
"Part of it." they admitted, "If I don't stay calm, I don't get to stay... well, stay me."
The reality of the situation hit Alastor like a ton of bricks, like a moving car. He did his best to calm himself.
"Whats the rest of it?"
Y/n said nothing and so, he tried again.
"I could have helped."
"Helped how, Alastor?" they asked, their voice coming out tired and nearly desperate, "How?"
"I could have found a cure."
"There is none." Y/n shook their head, "Believe me. I can do things to stave it off, keep it at bay but, nothing will take this beast away from me."
"You could try being redeemed."
They raised a fist to their chest, holding it over their heart. A pained expression had taken over their face, their body curling slightly in on itself.
"I don't want to. Not anymore. It... this thing... it's a part of me now. Besides, I couldn't leave Charlie."
"She has lots of people who care about her, people to take care of her. I am certain she would be fine."
"No, you don't understand." Y/n shook their head, "I can't leave her. I know she'd be fine on her own. She is such a wonder, such an incredible person. I need her."
"I wanted you."
Y/n straightened up, their eyes meeting his as their hand fell back to their side. They stared at one another in silence.
"I am sorry."
Alastor had never expected to hear those words. Not from them, not from anybody. He wasn't worthy of apology.
"I am too."
----
NEXT PART -> coming soon
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syndxlla · 7 months
Text
best friends don’t look at each other the way we do
A low stakes, high reward and self-indulgent Zelink fan fiction. Canon-compliant. Takes place between BOTW and TOTK
Chapter Five: My North Star
Read chapter four here
My masterlist
Song: August by Taylor Swift
Summary: Link and Zelda get a visitor from an old friend, and start to remember how to live for the hope of it all.
Warnings: brief and non graphic mentions of death and dead bodies, canon-typical violence and horror, PTSD (always for this fan fic)
Word Count: 3.3k words
Authors Note: finally some happy moments lol. Also this is unedited!! ALSO I KNOW I HAVE SO MANY UNANSWERED ASKS RN I PROMISE I AM NOT IGNORING YOU IM JUST BUSY AND LAZY kloveyoubye
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It takes only three more days for Impa to arrive at their door, angrily pounding her staff on the wooden plank. It’s early, she beats the rooster, and Link is rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he stumbles to the door from his makeshift bed he’s made adjacent to the kitchen.
He’s shocked to see the old woman staring up at him, as far as he knows, she hasn’t left Kakariko village in decades.
“You completed the mission and your first instinct was NOT to come and tell me?” She asks, her wrinkled lips pressed firmly into a frown. Link looks up to see Cado, apologetic. His hair is down, shirt is off, and he’s barely wearing trousers. He yawns.
“Good morning, Master Impa.” He bows deeply to her and she just whacks his skull with her cane in the same manner she did the door. Link yelps and rubs the top of his head. “What was that for?” He asks.
“Where’s the princess?”
“She’s sleeping still, it’s barely sunrise.” Link rubs some more sleep from his lashes, his hand in a tight fist. “You know, most people say good morning when you see them first thing…”
Impa then lets herself into the house, pushing past him like the angry ball of spunk she is. “I’ll have tea.” She states, “And I’d like to see my friend.” Link and Cado look at each other, the Sheikah man staring at him apologetically.
Link nods, walking to the furnace and kneeling in front of it. He blows on the dying embers from the night before, placing a small log on them. Flames catch, and he’s setting the kettle over them, still full of water from yesterday. Cado closes the door and sits across from Impa at the table. Link eyes his bed roll in the corner of the room, kicking some blankets around in an attempt to make it look less disheveled, but the elderly woman just squints at the state of the house. If only she had seen it a week ago. Link was starting to feel proud of he and Zelda’s progress, wildflowers being placed in a vase on the table, and their plates polished and put away neatly for the first time. After Impa’s scrutinizing gaze, however, he was feeling all sorts of insecure again.
The air is stagnant.
“She's still sleeping…still.” Link clears his throat, his voice hushed. “She needs to rest because-“
“Link, two bodies were found just outside of the castle two days ago, the man who found them also reports seeing a Shadowy Figure, covered in what he suspects is malice.” Impa interrupts him.
“What?” He asks, startled.
“I didn’t want to lead with that, but it cannot be ignored.” She spoke in the same hushed tone. They didn’t want to wake the Princess, and they especially didn’t want to scare her.
“Treasure hunters? I mean it's still a war zone there, it wasn’t anything else… right? He was lying, surely. All the Malice disappeared…” Link asks, feeling the blood go from his face.
“The man was Me.” Cado frowns. He would never lie. “After we got your message from Purah, I traveled to the castle to confirm that the Calamity was destroyed. The bodies were hylian, two young people. A boy and a girl… I thought it was..”
Cado’s voice became too loud, and Link hushed him.
“We want to think it was leftover spells, but we don’t know. We don’t know who else to ask to investigate.” Impa says.
“Now that Hyrule is safe, it's time we start reestablishing civility, democracy.” Cado steps in.
“It’s been eleven days since I defeated him.” Link crosses his arms, “I’m still not sleeping through the nights, Zelda doesn’t have her full strength back yet. You promised me I would get to rest when it was all over.” He looks at the Sheikah Chief.
“Don’t lie to me, Link.” Impa shakes her head, “I know you can’t stay in one place for too long. No matter how hard you try.” She states. She wasn’t wrong, but recently Link has started to feel different.
The kettle starts to whistle. Link swallows his frustration and takes it off the heat, preparing three cups of green bell tea. Everyone feels discomfort. “Did the figure do anything?” Link asks as he pours the hot water into the cups, his back turned to the Sheikah.
“It just stared at me, it was tall, hunched over.” Cado describes, one could easily hear the fear in his voice. “We stared at each other, I couldn’t tell if it was from this world or not.”
“Tall like a Zora or tall like a Gerudo?” Link asks, still turned away.
“Gerudo.” Cado struggled to say it. “I drew my sword, and as soon as I did, it turned away from me and walked into the mist to the south. I never saw it again.”
Link swallows and then turns around finally, carrying the cups to the table. “And the bodies?”
“Cause of death was unknown, I checked for a pulse multiple times but they were both long gone. They were dressed in traveler's garb. Their dress seemed to be from the north.”
“If they have families they need to know.” Link sits, holding the mug of tea in his hands.
“You’re the only one who could inform them about such a thing.” Impa says. “Tabantha is a long way, but you could be there and back in an hour if you warp. We’ll stay here until you-“
“The sheikah slate is utterly destroyed.” Link admits. “I left it with Purah but she essentially told me it's beyond repair.”
“You’d have to go on foot like the rest of us.” Cado smirks.
“Why would I?” Link asks, perhaps too forcefully. “I did my quest.”
Impa stares at him, silent for a moment, “You don’t really feel that way.” She shakes her head, “And if you do, then you are not the same man who woke up three years ago.”
“I’m not!” Link almost shouts, and they all bite their tongues, listening for any sound from upstairs. “Impa… you know I care. You know I want to go find whatever that figure was, but I am tired.” His voice cracks. “I can’t just sleep this one off.” He can’t look at her, if he does, he’ll break. “This is much deeper than exhaustion. It’s… it’s traumatic.
I still see him. His eyes, the way His heat radiated and burned my skin, the sound of His laughter. He Haunts me at night, I swear He finds ways into my dreams and taunts me there. Like it was all just a game to Him. Because it was. It always was. He’ll do it again a hundred times, and we can’t ever stop Him. There will be countless more Links who lose their hearing and can’t sleep and won't even look themselves in a mirror because as long as the triforce exists, He will mock us all with His deviance.”
Link stares into his tea.
“Impa…” A quiet voice says from the stairs, and all three of them are turning to see her. Long, blonde hair draped over her shoulder, eyes sleepy and confused, hands at her sides.
She nearly trips down the stairs as she runs to the woman, wrapping her hands around her neck and crying. Impa immediately holds her back, laughing, taking an old, bony hand and stroking the top of her friend's head with it.
“Good Morning, my dear.”
Link and Cado share one more glance.
The day is spent with hugs and laughter and Zelda looking into Impa’s eyes and crying every time she sees that they’re still the same eyes. Link cooks for them, and gets as quiet as he was at the start of this war. It’s all he can think about. Did it return for other Links? Did it return this early?
Zelda must have noticed his distance because while Impa is telling Zelda all about the man she married, the Princess is glancing at Link. His shoulders tense, his head down, his voice silent. She frowns, deciding to ask him about it later.
Cado was delighted to meet the woman, bowing deeply for her. He eventually got on a tangent about his children while they ate the omelets Link prepared, but Link stayed silent. He glances over at the Master Sword, leaning against the corner of the room, staring back at him.
He distracts himself the rest of the day with Epona, tending to her constantly while Zelda tells Impa every single detail about her time sealed away. The two prayed over each other a few times. The sun gets low in the sky, Link stays silent.
They come back inside, and before Impa and Cado enter from the outside to begin their next hour of catching up, Zelda places a gentle hand on Link’s shoulder. “Link,”
He turns to look at her, everything about him immediately softening as her green eyes stare at him.
“You’re upset?” She says, her voice soothing.
“No I’m not.” He denies. She raises an eyebrow.
“I know you.” Link becomes acutely aware of her thumb that starts rubbing circles into his muscle and he has to remind himself how to stand. ”Talk to me.”
He knows he can’t tell her about this, not yet. “Later?” He asks. She smiles and nods.
“I’m here for you.”
Link begins dinner, and Zelda washes up, leaving the three alone for the first time since early morning.
Impa stares, Cado uncomfortably clears his throat. Link looks at them, frowning, knowing what they want.
He sighs deeply.
“I will return to the castle. Zelda and I briefly discussed returning the Champion’s weapons to their people, and can do it then.” He finally says. “Tell every leader to warn their people to avoid the castle at all costs.”
“Good.” Impa nods.
“But-“ Link holds his hand up, “I’m not going until both she and I are ready.” He says.
“What do you mean by ready?” That old woman was always so pushy.
“When Zel and I both feel ready to return to those places without it absolutely crushing our spirits, we will go. Together.”
“Hylia knows when that will be.” Cado scoffs.
“Exactly.” Link says. “Unless more deaths are reported or this shadow is seen again, it can wait. Everyone has been avoiding the castle for a century, what’s a little while longer?” Link states, silently proud of himself for sticking up for himself and not just being the obedient soldier he was trained to be. “Besides, no one should be there anyways, it’s not safe.”
“You’re in love with the Princess.” Impa states with a chuckle and Link sputters, the wind knocking out of him.
“What? Why would you say that?” He asks.
“I saw you two. The way you look at her.” Impa smirks. Link feels his ears heat up, Cado stifles a laugh.
“You are so rude.” Link replies.
“I think you two need each other.” Impa shrugs, “But do not let any worldly affection keep you in the way of what really matters here: Hyrule and its people.”
Impa always knew exactly how to remind Link that he is just a soldier.
“We will leave before we eat. At this rate we will not return home until late into the night.” Impa states, standing back up.
They say their goodbyes. Zelda promises to visit, Impa gives her a kiss on the forehead, Cado bows again. And just as the sun begins to set, the pair is headed through the bridge.
Both Link and Zelda stand in the doorway as they watch them leave. Zelda starts to sniffle, wiping a tear.
“Hey, hey, hey.” Link says in a comforting tone when he sees her cry, turning to face her. “It’s okay, we’re gonna see her again real soon.” He reassures. Zelda sighs.
“She got so old, without me.” She tries to swallow her sob but fails. She presses her tear-stained face into the crook of Link’s neck, and he just holds her for as long she needs. Zelda is the one to pull away after a moment of comfort. “I’m sorry… I know there's something troubling you, too. I shouldn’t be so selfish.” Zelda sighs.
Link swallows, “It’s nothing. Not for tonight.”
“You're sure?”
“Positive.” Link nods. “Can I show you something?” He asks, and Zelda is nodding as he takes her hand and leads her up stairs. He pushes open a hatch on the ceiling in the corner, and a rickety ladder slides down. Some dust and cobwebs fly down, but when the air clears, Link is climbing up onto the roof of their house. He helps Zelda up next, and she’s looking up at the night sky with bright eyes. It’s still not totally dark yet, but the first few stars are starting to shine.
The roof is slightly slanted, but not enough to cause either of them concern. They both comfortably find a position on the tiles, facing south, noses pointed at the heavens. There’s about a foot of space between them, and Link wants to scoot closer into her, but chooses not to. He closes the hatch from the outside, so the warm light of the house doesn’t pollute their view.
“I like to come up here to clear my head.” He says. “It doesn’t hold a candle to the night sky in Hebra or out in the desert, but it's still pretty spectacular.”
Zelda hums, “You’ll have to take me someday.” She stays looking at the sky but Link looks at her. Her profile is beautiful, hair long and cascading, ears pointed and blushed. Surely she knew he was staring, but neither of them did anything to stop.
“One day.” He nods before looking away and laying on his back. He rests his arms behind his head, crossing an ankle over his bended knee. “That one is called Haru.” He points to an especially bright star, “It’s part of the constellation Nabooru.” He then traces the warrior constellation with his finger.
“I remember, yes.” Zelda scoots into him, and he tries to stifle his smile. She doesn’t lay next to him, but now they’re a mere inches apart.
“And this is the North Star.” Link cranes his neck back to see it. “It moves though, did you know that? True north changes over time, so that one was the North Star when we were born, but over time the celestial bodies shifted and now it's that one. They didn’t even know that until I came back, because I was following the original one and ended up in Lanayru instead of Eldin. I talked with Purah and Robbie and they agreed, isn’t that fascinating?” He asks with a smile.
Zelda smiles so wide she thinks her cheeks will burst. “I never heard you speak like that before. With so much passion and eloquence.”
Link looks at her and just chuckles, “Now everyone follows the new star, but it didn’t have a name yet….”
“We should name it!” She gasps.
“Oh…I already did.” Link frowns, “I named it after I got my first memory back.” He shrugs. “I”m sorry. But there are plenty of stars without names anymore. A lot of the scientific research got destroyed with the…” He stops himself, “Well you know why. No one these days even knows the constellations anymore. I’m the only one.”
“What did you name it?” Zelda smiles.
Link looks at her again, “Zelda.”
She just about passes out from flattery, smiling down at her knees which are bent into her chest, blushing a little. “That’s very nice.”
“It was my true north.” He says. “I’d have been lost without it.”
It was fully dark now, and the sky lit up with the twinkling lights, the moon was a small sliver of a crescent and hung low in the sky near the sea.
“When did you remember the constellations?” She asked.
“They come to me slowly. It was required for all knights to know them, as I’m sure you remember.” Link described, looking to the heavens again. “I still can’t think of half of them.”
“Well isn’t that one Navi?” She points to another star.
“No, that one is Navi.” Link scoots up to her level, closing the gap further between them, and takes his hand to move her arm to the right star, his calloused and scarred flesh rough against her soft skin. “That one is the top of the constellation Hylia-“
“-Hylia”
They say it together. Perfectly in tune.
Their faces turn towards one another, locking eyes. The air freezes, time itself seems to hold.
Their hearts simultaneously skip a beat, and a soft blow of warm wind passes by, brushing through their hair.
Link makes the mistake of looking at her lips and for a split second he swears she leans in, but before anything goes any further, she’s moving away and laying down next to him.
He supposes this is alright, too.
“I wonder what she thinks of all this.” Link says.
Zelda is quiet ....“I sometimes wonder if the God’s regret making man.”
“What do you mean?” Link asks, looking at her.
“Well… man is what caused the curse of the loop anyways. If it weren’t for us, Hyrule wouldn’t have to be rebuilt every ten thousand years.” She frowns. “Maybe they wish they had left their creation to rest without our feeble beings.”
“I don’t think that.” Link shakes his head. “I think they put us here because we are flawed, not in spite of it.
I think our mistakes, our sins, our curses are what makes us special. Life would be futile if we were perfect. There would be no motivation. No growth. No passion.
You cannot have good without evil, or light without dark, or joy without pain.
That’s what’s so beautiful about life. I think the God’s know that. I think they love us because of it. That is a luxury they don’t have. I see it as a gift. To live for the hope of it all.”
Link rambles, and Zelda is stunned for a moment. She turns her head to look at him, this time he’s the one with wonder-filled eyes staring up, ignoring the gaze of the other.
“I really think you should wield the triforce of wisdom.” Zelda teases.
Link looks at her, their noses almost touching. “Oh no, I’m only profound when I’m around you.” He shakes his head, giggling. “You should see me try to talk my way through Gerudo town, there's nothing wise about it.” His tone is playful, and they both laugh over it. “I accidentally told a woman she looked pregnant instead of ordering a drink at the bar.” Link explains and then says the two phrases in Gerudo, Zelda can admit they have very similar pronunciations and the both of them are full-belly laughing at the situation. Zelda asks how he managed to get out of that situation, and Link had to describe further that he was in disguise, which made everything harder to get through. Zelda couldn’t get the image of Link in a woman’s clothing out of her mind, and Link only sets her off further when he finishes the story with him getting slapped by an elderly Gerudo Woman. It isn’t much longer until she has tears welling down her face, but this time they are finally tears of laughter and joy.
When they both finally pull themselves together, Zelda smiles at him, wiping a tear from the corner of her eyes. “Thank you.” She sighs, her stomach aching from laughter.
Zelda then takes a risk, and snakes her hand in between them before wrapping it around Link’s. They don’t lock fingers, and it isn’t even necessarily classified as a romantic gesture, but she just squeezes his hand, thankful for cheering her up, thankful for reminding her that there is still hope.
There is hope in balance.
She tries to pull it away, not wanting to overstep, but Link is holding her hand tighter, keeping it in his grip. Zelda happily obliges, and they keep their hands clasped at their sides the whole night.
Chapter Six
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kitspindles · 11 months
Text
I’m in no way bashing on people who have already finished TSatS and say they hate it, are disappointed, etc., because I myself have not gone past chapter seven. My friend let me read some today, but I won’t have my own copy until Thursday, so maybe my opinions will change. I will say, however, that if you read 400+ pages in less than a day, maybe give yourself some time to process the entire plot first?
In any case, I can’t help but wonder how many people went into this book expecting one version of Nico and Will, only to be hit with something else entirely. And I mean like... expecting the fandom’s versions of these two, rather than what canon has previously shown us up until this book.
It’s my personal opinion that the PJO fandom’s worse enemy is their own mischaracterization of the characters at times. And I don’t mean like little head canons and stuff. Everyone has done those at some point. There’s usually no harm in those. I’m talking about people who created their own versions of Nico and Will and have been running with these visions for years through different fan fictions and what-not online.
For years we’ve known basically nothing about Will aside from the fact that he’s sarcastic, likes Star Wars, his mom is a country singer, he can glow in the dark, and he’s better at healing than fighting. (And he has questionable fashion choice at times). Like, that’s all we’ve had since his initial introduction in The Last Olympian over a decade ago. Everything else? Online and fan speculation. And again, there is nothing wrong with that! I just feel like a lot of people went into this book holding onto their own pre-conceived visions of what Will Solace was and ended up disappointed the authors made him... different? But not really different, because he didn’t have a lot of in-depth personality or backstory before this.
Me personally? Yeah, I’m not that far into the book yet but I’m loving how Will is portrayed so far. He’s still sarcastic, but he’s shown his fair share of level-headedness as well as frustrations just within the first couple chapters. He is in no way the overly-optimistic sunshine-y boy who only exists to help Nico that the fandom has portrayed him to be all these years. His character arc is already headed in a way deeper direction (more on that when I finish the book). The whole bit where Will had coffee spilled on him and spent the next couple paragraphs in the scene trying to be unbothered while actually giving off “This is fine” fire dog energies? I loved that.
As for Nico, can I just say I adore how he’s written in this book? Aside from his PoV in Blood of Olympus, this is the first time he’s had his own narration. And it’s actually about him and more in-depth than previous times. I’ve heard people say that he’s “out of character,” and while I can see a little of what they’re all saying, I just want to know... what version of Nico have you all been reading? Did I miss something?
Up until this book, what exactly did we know about Nico? That he’s displaced in time, his sister and mother are both dead (and he feels alone), he harbored repressed gay feelings from his upbringing as a Catholic guy in 1940s Italy, and he’s been through the ringer more than once (so, trauma, basically). Oh, and he’s a bit of a nerd (Mythomagic and knowing all kinds of ancient creatures). That’s... about it. Everything has been speculation and projection from fans.
In previous books he’s always been portrayed from first- or third-person point of view (usually from people who don’t know him well and just think he’s “creepy”), leading to the idea that he’s distant and low-empathy based on some interactions he’s had with demigods who weren’t thrilled to be around him, during a time of great pressure. But he’s not exactly uncaring. He’s been shown to care a lot, actually (Bianca, Hestia, Bob, everything he’s done for Percy, his friendship with Reyna, Hazel, etc.)
But what about when he was ten? He was an excitable, curious kid who liked to have fun. And what did we see briefly in Trials of Apollo (before Jason died, at least)? We saw some of that energy return, particularly in The Hidden Oracle.
So, yeah, I’m personally thrilled to see him making cringe-y jokes and have some self-deprecating humor. It’s very “#OnBrand” for a traumatized teenager who’s just trying to cope and live life without any godly wars forcing him this way and that. Can we really say it’s “out of character” if we’ve never seen more than one side of Nico? (The under pressure side, from other character’s PoVs, in books not about him where he’s basically been a side character?) I’m just glad to see him cracking jokes, laughing, and acting more like a normal kid.
Now, is this book different from Rick’s other ones? Uh, yeah. I won’t say it’s not. But it’s not bad. It’s supposed to be different. It has slightly different intentions than the other books (re: explicitly working through trauma and relationship bumps). Also, it’s co-written. Co-written books always read slightly off from the original author’s work, but dam if it isn’t hard to meld writing styles and copy another author’s particular voice. But I think Mark did a very good job at imitating Rick’s style (again, from what I’ve read so far).
Will I change my mind on all this the farther I get into the book? Maybe. There’s a lot to read and take in. All I’m saying is don’t let the negative reviews warp your opinion of the book if you haven’t read it yet and are on the fence if you should or not. Wait for the PDF to drop, or for a library copy, and read and see for yourself.
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1863-project · 6 months
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I just had an extremely surreal archiving moment.
When I was in undergrad, we were assigned soldiers who participated in the Battle of Gettysburg and were court-martialed for alleged cowardice and told to write papers on them for our senior theses. This was for my history major, American Civil War Era Studies minor.
I had a soldier named Albert L. Du Puget. He had issues with his knees ("rheumatism") that made him fall behind his unit - it turns out he wasn't being a coward, he was experiencing disability symptoms. I found photos of him in his pension file at the National Archives where he was discussing his knee issues 30-40 years later, even.
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After the war, he ended up living in the city I now work in for some time before eventually dying in the Philadelphia area in the early 1900s. He married a much younger woman after his first wife died to ensure she got his pension, something not uncommon at the time to help protect people and give them financial security.
I'm scanning a book right now in the library's archives. And whose name pops up, but...
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It's not a common name. I'm 99% sure it's him again, after so long. I wrote that paper in 2011. He was more or less Just Some Guy - born in the UK, immigrated to New Jersey, served in the American Civil War in his 30s, lived in this city after the war...
I'm half-tempted to reach out to the professor who oversaw my thesis. I'm almost crying seeing this - it's just so goddamned surreal. Albert feels like someone I know personally because of all the research I did on him over a decade ago, so it feels like finding an old friend again.
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deceitfuldevout · 7 months
Text
Play Me a Tragedy
Dark!Ivar x Wife!Reader
Word Count: +2416
Warning(s): +18, Forced Marriage, Kidnapping, Mentions of past non con, Raiding, Forced pregnancy.
Author's Note(s): Y'all should know by now I'm all for the dramatics.
You and your husband, King Ivar, have been invited to a play. Accompanied by your children to celebrate your wedding anniversary. Filled with entertainment, games, and a feast. But it wasn't just any day, no. This was the day your entire world fell apart. When you were taken from your home, and everyone you loved. All to celebrate what was you considered to be the worst day of your life.
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There had been stories told throughout the feast. Every last one of them stroked your husband's never-ending ego. Within only a few years, Ivar had gained a large mass of devoted followers who were willing to die for him and his cause. With that kind of power given to a mad man such as himself, of course it would go to his head.
Ivar convinced the people of Kattegat of his new world order. That if they follow him and him only would they achieve Valhalla. It was more a cult if anything. He made his people believe that you were his very own 'deity'. He claimed that you were made especially for him by the gods. That the two of you were destined for one another, as a way for Ivar to justify his actions. Even after being given the title of 'Queen', you had no say in politics. You were a glorified broodmare. There wasn't a single day that passed where Ivar wouldn't claim ownership over you. He would dress you himself in the finest silks and jewels during the day. By nigh. he would ravage you until the morning.
After the birth of your first child, you had finally broken. Willingly following his orders, knowing that there would be no one else to protect you and your child. Ivar was glad to claim you were finally his. Body and soul. Now proven with his cub. He would remind you everyday to be grateful that it was him who found you first. In his own words, "Who knows how it would end with any other man, this is what's best for you.", That you should be thanking him. Deep down you knew if it were another warrior, they'd tear you apart. After all, it was your husband's status that gave you access to such a luxurious life. A gilded cage fit for a queen.
Today he was obnoxiously louder than usual. His voice booms throughout the dining hall. The entertainers had saved the best story for last. 'A Tale of a Fallen Kingdom.' they called it. There were actors in costume to represent Ivar and his warriors. It only took a moment to realize which day they were reenacting.
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The narrator clears his voice before beginning, "Five years ago, to this day..." he states, "King Ivar and his men visit a Kingdom, untouched by war and plague." it was then when the crowd decided to spew their distaste towards your people. Spewing insults and curses at your country's flag. Your brows furrow as your eyes widen. Had that much time really pass? Surely it hadn't been that long...it felt as though you'd been 'married' for almost a decade. But then again only a year with Ivar felt like forever.
It was almost unreal how accurate their clothes were. It had been a while since you'd seen someone dressed in your people's clothes. From the stage setup, to the costume design. It was like a memory had been extracted and put on display. You tear up at the sight of it. Truly missing your home more than ever. Part of you wasn't sure your family were still alive. There was a young maiden dressed in modest clothing. Not just any garb no, it was specifically designed for a lady in waiting. A title you were given from being the general's daughter. There your character stood, following the other meek women of the royal court.
You were portrayed as a ditzy, clumsy little thing. Who couldn't fend to save her life. Scoffing at the display, you turn to face Ivar who had found it all amusing. You roll your eyes. Did he truly find this mockery entertaining? It was obviously a political tool. Then your mind began racing. Was this truly how the people of Kattegat view you? That you were willing to betray your own people so easily. All to become Ivar's own personal whore. Your blood began to boil. This wasn't a love story but a tragedy. The young man dressed as Ivar lets out a triumphant laugh. Your counterpart had depicted you as an absolute moron, who craved the attention of a man that would give a second glance.
You scoff at the display. Out of all your ladies in court, you were the most educated. That's how you captured Ivar's interest. He had been fascinated by your intelligence. It was rare for women in your kingdom to seek an education, let alone willingly. Your parents supported you furthering your studies alongside the men. No one would question their general's only child.
Ivar used to sneak in a few pieces of literature for you to read. The next time he summoned you was for a game of chess. To his surprise you'd beaten him, his entire demeanor had shifted. He partially blames himself for underestimating a woman of these lands. But then again, not many were educated here. It was at the moment where his final decision was made, he had to have you.
Soon enough the audience follows with boisterous laughs. 'Ivar' releases his crutches before making an exaggerated dive for the woman. She squeals, "No no~you handsome heathen!" squealing as the man began to 'ravage' her. You felt a deep pit of despair, falling ill at the sight of their performance. Ivar on the other hand, was ecstatic. He indulged in the portrayal of himself, covering the growing smirk behind his cup. As the narrator continues, "How will the poor maiden survive such a world?" announcing it to the crowd.
It was then when the women clings onto 'Ivar' as if her life depended on it, "Please! King Ivar! Take me! Take me away from this boring life! Make a woman of me!" the woman boasts as she rips her blouse open, "I'm yours!" She lifts her skirts in a seductive manner. You felt sick to your stomach. This is not what happened, not at all. You had a life, a family that you were taken from.
You remember clawing at his face, hard enough to break skin. Ivar hisses from the sting. He lifts your shoulders and slams you against the ground. You felt dizzy from the impact. Air escaping your lungs as you cough to catch breath. Your vision blurs for a moment before realizing he'd already ripped through your blouse. He skillfully cuts through the garment, lifting your skirts to make way.
You despised Ivar's efforts at keeping a heroic image in public. Angry tears fell down your face. Because you, of all people, knew the truth. You have scars to bear with. From the leather bindings that burned into your wrists during that cursed wedding night, to the following months after. How he'd bound you to bed like an animal, until he was sure you were with child.
Ivar chuckles at your eldest son's discomfort. Seeing his parents being depicted as very passionate lovers. He rubs his head, "Someday you will also become a man." causing the four year old to gag. Ivar doesn't wince when your second born sits on his lap. She adores her father. Of course it was easy being the apple of his eye, and at times, she uses it to her advantage.
Every time you'd scold her, she'd run into her father's arms. You on the other hand despised his efforts at keeping a heroic image. When it was clear as day he was not to be trusted. The same hands that held your daughter close, were used to slaughter hundreds.
Seeing such a mockery being displayed to your children made your heart shatter. Tears began to trickle as you sob in silence. Your daughter notices and leaves her father to comfort you. Ivar is too absorbed into the play to pay attention. He lets out a boastful laugh, clutching his sides as the crowd roaring continues. It was during the king's coronation when the Northmen attacked.
Ivar and his men raided the other surrounding kingdoms. As a peace offering they were invited to the ceremony. Little did your leader know what sinister actions would play out. Ivar and the young king had been in talks for a peace treaty.
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You held your girl close, shielding her from the next scene. It was the day he had taken you.
You and the other maidens just so happened to pass by the dining hall. It was at that moment when Ivar swore time itself had stopped. He had been mesmerized by your presence. You, a noble maiden had captured the heathen king's heart.
For the entire evening he hadn't cared for anyone's attention but yours. Ordering you to halt everything to give the King your attention. His obsession was obvious to everyone but you. He followed you around like a love-sick puppy. To the point where the King himself appointed you as his foreign advisor.
Ivar had tried everything to woo you. From the promises of riches, to land, to the title of noblewoman. All of which you politely declined. Stating that you were happy with you life the way it was. Part of you knew he wouldn't stop until you gave him the attention he so desperately craved. So much so that he decides to take matters into his own hands.
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Suddenly the stage began to erupt with an array of ribbons thrown into the air. To symbolize the arrows lit aflame. Flashes of that night came to you in small doses. You're no longer in Kattegat but now residing in your kingdom, before it was burned to the ground. You could see what was once your home, burning right before your very eyes. Hearing the echoes of your people's screams. The day your life changed forever.
There Ivar was, crawling towards you as you ran for the door. "Help! Help me! Someone please!" you ran as fast as you could. The gates began to close. There was not a moment to waste. You ran because your life depended on it. But it was too late, the guards on the other side began to pull harder for the gate to close. Soon enough it had shut.
You slam it as hard as you can. Until your fists began to bruise, "Please! Someone help me! I'm the commander's daughter! Please!" taking a breath loud enough so that they can hear you, "Don't leave me!" sobbing against the metal doors. As you turn around to find Ivar had caught up with you. He grins from ear to ear covered in blood from the fallen soldiers. With a look in his eyes that said: You're mine.
On the other side of the border your father and his men fought to defend the kingdom's last line of defense. "Sir!" a solider ushers for your father, who scolds him, "Not now boy!" he swings his sword at a heathen climbing the walls. But the man insists, "It's your daughter." causing the general to halt, "What is it boy?!"
"She's missing."
"What has happened?!"
"She left for the market this morning."
Those words alone made his blood run cold, "No..." It was that day when your father had made the ultimate sacrifice. Either let the gates down and weaken the kingdom's last defense, or lose his only child. Soon enough, Ivar had already reached the gates, halting his army from furthering. He demands to speak with your father to make a deal, “General, will you let me wed your daughter?”
He scowls at such a command, “When it rains fire.”
Ivar hums, nodding at the man's proclaim, “So let it be.” He raises his arms in the air, signaling for his warriors to shoot. Hundreds of arrows are lit aflame and shot into the sky. It took three days and nights until your kingdom had finally surrendered. Ivar had won. Your kingdom had lost.
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This was the ‘Great love story’ of King Ivar and his queen. Your remember the pain and betrayal felt was immeasurable. Those strong feelings from years ago all came down at once. Like something inside of you had finally tipped over. You finally reach your breaking point, bowing your head in shame. Crying to yourself as your daughter tries her best to comfort you. But her soft heart could no longer take the sight of her mother weeping, as she wraps her arms around you and cries.
It catches the attention of your husband. It was then when his mood had shifted. He couldn’t help but feel like a deep pit had been dug in his belly. Ivar swishes the ale in his mouth, swallowing it as if it were bitter.
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He sighs, standing up from his seat, “Halt!” he commands. The room goes silent. There isn’t so much as a whisper. Ivar gathers the actors, lining them up in a row for interrogation. He orders the guards to bring the writer responsible for the play. Soon enough, a timid man is put on stage. It was then when you had to beg your husband to spare his life. Ivar lets out a huff, "You should be thanking my wife for sparing you. Don't let it happen again." with that the celebration had come to an end.
You left as fast as you could. Sending your children off to their rooms before returning to your dreadful marital chambers. You ready yourself for bed, hoping that Ivar would return much later. When you hear his footsteps approaching you don't bother to look him in the eye. You help your husband remove his leg braces; since he's only ever let you do it.
When the two of you are finally in bed, Ivar reaches for your waist. He wraps his arms around your body as he held your bodies together. He presses his nose against the top of your hair, whispering, "It was the gods who led me to you my love..." he sighs, breathing in your scent. He hums, "The healers have already informed me." he brushes his hand flat against your mid drift. He feels for the swell of your under belly, one of his favorite things to do. If he could stay like this forever, he would. Ivar reassures you with soft whispers, "There there my love, it is in the past..." as he gently wipes the tears away, cooing as you cried the rest of the night in his arms.
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gigglingtiggerv2 · 8 months
Text
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02: Mistrust
Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character
Warnings / Tags: Angst and Fluff
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 2.7k
Chapter List
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Back in her rooms it took Meya two attempts to set the enchantment on the door, fumbling for the words that were a commonplace part of her life.  On this planet you needed more than locks to keep you safe and she’d been grateful for Loki’s tutelage all those years ago.
Cast out by her people and abandoned by the man she loved, she landed here nearly a century ago.  At first she’d simply been looking for somewhere to lick her wounds and decide what to do next, she’d never intended to stay.
But the brutal edge to this world had reflected the pain she felt, the constant battle for survival strengthening her resolve and giving her an outlet for her anger.  Here there was no time for self-pity or to dwell on what had been lost. Here you had to fight just for the right to draw your next breath.
And she had fought.  She had clawed and scratched and gouged her place in this world.  It had taken decades but eventually the inhabitants had accepted her as one of their own.  Just another abandoned piece of the flotsam and jetsam of the galaxy, which had washed up on its shores, ready to be repurposed into a new life.
This wretched planet had given her the purpose she needed, but the sanctuary it offered came at a cost.  She’d tried not to think about the price she’d been forced to pay, but as her past surfaced, there were other truths she knew she needed to face.
With reluctance she made her way into the bathroom and switched on the light.
Peeling away her clothing she stared at her reflection.  Pale scars criss-crossed her golden skin, rendering her a patchwork, held together by the memory of every battle.  The last hundred years had been a war without end.  Needing to fight every day - at first to create a life and after that, just to hold onto what was hers.  It had been painful, exhausting and brutal.  But nothing she had done over the course of the last century had, in any way, been as hard as telling Loki to leave this evening.
Even after everything that had happened, even after everything he’d done, it had taken every ounce of her strength not to hurl herself straight into his arms the moment he walked through the door.  All it took was one knowing glance from those glittering emerald eyes and her resolve evaporated like mist beneath the first rays of morning sunshine.
Her hand clenched into a fist.  He hadn’t come for her and that knowledge burned at the back of her throat more strongly than the cheap alcohol earlier.  He’d come for his personal belongings.  Those few scant items he’d left behind when he disappeared.  He’d come for the protection amulet.  Her gaze drifted lower until it reached the simple gold and emerald pendant, hanging just below her breasts.
He didn’t need it, her thoughts argued.  Not as much as she did.  The amulet meant life.  It had allowed her to survive on this barren planet.  More than that, it had allowed her to thrive.  It had saved her from attacks, healed her wounds and given her strength when her own failed.  That there were other quirks to its gifts was a bonus - she gave a crooked smile - for one thing, it allowed her to drink any other occupant of the bar into a state of insensibility without leaving the faintest blur to her senses.  
It also, apparently, allowed her to lie to Loki without him noticing.  That was handy.
Her fingers traced over the faint indentations of the runes that encircled the central gem.  She’d been wearing it so long now, she was almost afraid to take it off.  What would be left of her without its protection?  She knew that the health and vitality she could see reflected in the mirror, was an illusion.  She’d not looked like that in a long time and probably never would again.  This planet was toxic; it’s very air, polluted.  Her Asgardian constitution could probably deal with the fumes for a while but the perpetual lack of sun took its own toll.  No one could spend as many years as she had on this desolate, shadowy rock without being corrupted by it.  
And if she wanted to remain here, she would need the amulet.
And it wasn’t like Loki required any additional magical protection, she told herself.   He’d managed perfectly well without it!  He’d cast himself into the void itself but had still managed to cheat death.  Her need was greater than his, she reasoned.  She wouldn’t survive without it.
She twisted the pendant on its delicate chain.  The only other alternative - given that Loki had never been known to take ‘no’ for an answer, not when his mind was made up - would be to find somewhere else to live.  Somewhere less demanding.  But it had been hard enough finding somewhere to settle when she was just a disavowed Valkyrie.  Now she was a marked member of the lawless and the list of places willing to offer her shelter was very short indeed.
Unless…
For a moment, a long buried hope flickered into life.  Maybe she could get back everything she’d lost, everything that had been taken from her.  Her fingers twitched as she opened her personal pocket universe - another gift from Loki - and carefully placed the amulet inside.  The little tuck in reality was a part of her and meant that, although it was hidden, she was still connected to the gem, still benefiting from its power.
She moved across to the barely used computer terminal, shifting the accumulated clutter out of the way so she could find the access pad.  To her surprise it glowed into life as soon as she pressed the button.  Feeling bolstered by this success she pulled up a stool and began to search through old messages.  
There had been one… just one… many years ago.  She’d ignored it at the time, not wanting to even read the name Loki Laufeyson, but now might be the time to answer.  It might solve everything.  She wasn’t interested in the reward that had been offered, but perhaps that bounty could be traded for something more valuable to her.
Her fingers hesitated over the keys.  If she could trust him.  The laugh came out as a snort.  Trust was a commodity in scarce supply around here.  But it didn’t matter.  If the bargain was honoured, she could finally leave this desolate rock and if it wasn’t, well, Loki wouldn’t be needing the amulet anymore.
Not giving herself the chance to change her mind she typed the short response and hit send.
The response was almost immediate.
Her fingers hesitated for a moment. then she straightened her shoulders and sent the coordinates.
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That night she dreamed of Asgard and its dark prince.  As the dark gave way to the murky gloom that passed for morning on this shithole of a planet she clung onto the dream a little longer.  In it, they were running through the flower fields, outside the city, her in the lead with Loki chasing her.
The smile was still on her face as she woke.  She remembered that day so clearly she could almost smell the flowers.  A small frown creased her brow… she could still smell the flowers.  Cautiously she opened one eye, blinked and sat bolt upright in bed.
The entire flat was filled with blossoms.  Vases crowded shelves, tables and the floor, spilling their colourful bounty of petals over every surface.  Her mouth fell open as she edged past a vast pot of begonias, ducking under a trailing spray of honeysuckle and stepped warily into the main room.
In the kitchen area Loki sat with his ankles crossed; his boots propped on the counter, as he sipped a cup of what smelt suspiciously like spiced tea.
Thoughts still dulled by sleep, Meya shook her head in wonder.  “What did you do?”
Loki glanced up and smiled.  “You said to bring flowers, but you didn’t specify which ones.”
She waved a hand in disbelief.  “So you brought all of them?”
“All that I could remember,” he replied, with a shake of his head.  “I don’t think this planet is capable of sustaining life, so they’re just illusion, I’m afraid.  But they should last a few weeks, even here.”
Rational thought slowly returned and her eyes narrowed. “How did you get in here?” she asked, glaring at the door as if it had personally affronted her.
Loki waved a dismissive hand.  “Please.  I taught you that enchantment, did you really think it would keep me out?”
“I thought common courtesy might!”
Loki raised an eyebrow.  “You know me better than that.  Has it really been that long?”
For a moment her anger at his abandonment surged through her and her hands balled into fists as she hissed, “Yes!”
To her surprise he dropped his face in contrition and then nodded slowly.  “Yes, it has,” he agreed, “and I am truly sorry.”
Loki apologising?? What in the Nine had happened to him? Catching herself with her mouth agape she snapped her teeth together and raised her chin.  “Pretty words, Liesmith.  Is that all you have?”
He set down his mug and shifted his feet from the counter.  “I know I owe you more than a long overdue apology.  Please believe I intend to do everything within my power to make it up to you.” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “Just tell me how.”
Meya stared at him for a long moment and then nodded sharply.  “Well, you can start by pouring me some of that tea.”
He deftly poured the scalding tea into another mug and Meya almost moaned as she raised it to her lips. Commestables on this rock were scarce and rarely amounted to more than the scavenged provisions from scuttled ships.  She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d tasted something that wasn’t freeze dried and many years out of date.
The sharp tang from the leaves was softened by the merest hint of honey, exactly how she liked it.  She felt tears prick at her eyes.  He’d remembered.
Not willing to meet his gaze until she’d recovered some modicum of composure, she stared at the amber liquid, watching the steam curl from its surface.  A frown drew a line between her brows.  She recognised that pristine mug, although she hadn’t seen it in months, and had assumed it was buried beneath the mountain of dirty plates and glasses that she kept meaning to wash.  Her eyes drifted to the sink with mild embarrassment, to say she was unused to having visitors would be a wild understatement.
But the sink was empty.
More than empty it had been polished to a gleaming shine.
“Wait… you cleaned up in here?”
Loki grimaced.  “Well someone had to.  Or there would have been nowhere to set the flowers or prepare breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” Despite her best intentions, the word sounded like a prayer as it left her lips.
Loki nodded.  “I also brought food.”
Meya had to swallow hard, even the thought of actual food making her mouth water.
Taking advantage of her silence he waved a hand and produced a sizzling skillet which he set between them.  “As you said, it’s been a while.  We have much to talk about.”  He took a breath, “And I have much to apologise for.  I feared it would take some time, and I might need sustenance.”
He dropped his gaze, catching sight of a stray food packet that had escaped his housekeeping cantrip.  Pulling it out from where it was tucked behind the counter he read the description and shuddered.
“You really eat this monstrosity?”
She shrugged, “When you’re hungry enough, you’ll eat anything.”
“Well I hope your taste buds have not eroded to such an extent that you can’t enjoy the feast I have prepared.”  With a flourish he removed the cloche to reveal a substantial joint of middle rib surrounded by perfected roasted potatoes and vegetables.
Meya felt her  legs give out as the savoury aroma filled her head and she sank onto a stool.  “You’ve changed,” she murmured, fiddling with the gleaming silverware as he placed a warmed plate in front of her.
He nodded slowly.  “Yes, I have.”  He studied her face.  “You must have too.”
Meya shrugged as she piled her plate. “Not as much as you’d think.  Nothing to do here but fight and drink.” She gave a sad smile, “It’s almost like being back with the Valkyrie. Only less singing.”
“Is it?” he asked, “are you happy here?”
Meya shifted beneath his gaze.  Without the amulet hanging round her neck its power was reduced and the lies were harder to summon.
“No,” she admitted.
“And your… your husband?”  
She could feel him tripping over the word, but he kept his voice level.  Taking pity she shook her head, “Wife, not husband and she’s long gone.  Nothing lasts on this rock, we barely made it through the honeymoon.  If it wasn’t for the booze, I don’t think we’d have managed that.”
“Do you miss her?”
Meya shook her head.  “I barely remember what she looked like.”
So intent was she, on the perfectly seared piece of meat, savouring every mouthful as it melted on her tongue, she didn’t hear him move.  But suddenly he was behind her and she jumped as he brushed her hair away from her shoulder.
His fingers traced the outline of a pale scar that curled around her neck and dipped into the hollow of her collarbone and she fought back the automatic shiver in response.
“This is new,” he said, his voice sliding like silk over her damaged skin.  “How did you get it?”
Snatching up her plate she pushed past him and retreated across the room.  “I don’t remember,” she replied, spearing the last piece of steak in a defiant gesture, part of her afraid he might take back his gift.
Loki frowned and tilted his head.  “No.  No, that’s not true.  You always remembered.  Every wound, every scar, every injury.  You always remembered.  You wore them with pride and in the nighttime, when the moonlight painted them silver,  you would tell me the story of every battle that had earned you those marks.”
Turning away from him she dropped her empty plate into the sink with a clatter.  Wiping her fingers on the long shirt she wore to sleep in, she shrugged.  “That was a long time ago.  Now there are too many to name and most I would rather forget.”
Moving closer his fingers tightened around her wrist.  “Show me.”
“What?”
He pulled her around, caging her back against the sink as he leaned closer.  His hair tickled her shoulder as he brushed his lips against the long healed mark.  “Show me what you’ve been through.  Tell me the story written into your skin.”  His lips moved to her neck and she felt him inhale her scent.  “Let me atone for every hurt sustained because I left you to fight those battles alone.”
Her head spun as his arm slid around her waist.  
She should just give him the amulet.  Once he had that he’d leave.  Tears pricked at her eyes.  He’d leave her to pick up the pieces of her life alone.  She’d done it before, she could do it again.  But the words had the hollow ring of the lie they were.
Taking advantage of her silence he slid his hand under her bottom, lifting her up until they were eye to eye.  Of their own volition, her legs wrapped around his hips and tightened, pressing the heat of her core against the very obvious evidence of his own need.
She tangled her fingers in his hair and jerked his head back, running her eyes over the familiar features.  He was so beautiful, she thought, it wasn’t fair.  No creature had the right to look that handsome.
Under her scrutiny his lips curved into a smile and as the coil of excitement tightened in her stomach, Meya knew she was lost.
Giving his hair a sharp tug she returned his grin.  “Bed now,” she said, “stories later.”
He swung her round and carried her through the apartment.  “Oh, I seem to remember we can do better than that.”
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mlm-writer · 8 months
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If I Should Become a Stranger (Smokescreen x GN!Reader)
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Pairing: Smokescreen (TFP ver.) x Human!Gender Neutral!Reader Rating: General Audiences Words: 1608 POV: Second Summary: Smokescreen left you over a decade ago to rebuild Cybertron and until today, you had not heard from him since. Note: Read a Transformers novel and then it really dawned on me how beings with such a long life span must view time differently. So this fic explores that a little. Inspired by this song. Tags: angst, hurt no comfort (for smokey tbh), breakup from Smokescreen’s POV and song fic. 
Humans would argue that in war, there was nothing as precious as love. In war, one should hug one's friends more often, hold one's family tighter and kiss one's lover longer. Such was the philosophy of men; cherish what you have now you have it. It was quite befitting to a race with such short lives. Cybertronian's however…
Even in war, many acted like life would never end. There was plenty of time to fight one's friends. There was even more time to find it in you to mend things, patch up the wounds you created together. Even when friends started to lose the light in their optics, when the streets started to fill with the husks of neighbours, when tomorrow was more a wish than a promise, even then, Cybertronians were often found doing anything but cherishing the moment. 
Smokescreen was no different. Sure, he was impatient and young by comparison, but even to him, everything seemed to be able to wait, 'fore there will be a later. Hence why he had no reservations about going to Cybertron to rebuild. Hence why he could look upon his human lover with a smile as bright as the full moon on a clear night, while saying his goodbyes. "I'll see you soon," he had said while swaggering backwards into the space bridge. You had believed him as much as you had loved him back then.  
"Hey Ratchet, any messages for me?" You asked as you always did when visiting the medic at the old base. Ratchet looked down at you with those same sorry optics. He didn't need to say anything, but he always gave you the courtesy of an answer. 
"I'm sorry, there has been no communication for you," he spoke evenly, trying to keep the pity out of his voice. It was always like that. At first you stopped by every few days, then weekly, monthly, every few months… at some point you forgot to go altogether. You moved for work, so it was suddenly a whole journey to come visit. You got fired from that job, then you got a new job. You fell in love, got your heart broken, broke a limb, healed both and what else? It was just life - life without sentient alien robots, explosions and secret government missions. 
It almost seemed like it had all been a dream. You had almost forgotten about all the adventures of your youth, were it not for that scar on your arm you got from a brief brush with Soundwave at the satellite array. That was just the start, but somehow you made it through several threats to the planet fairly unscathed. That scar on your arm was the only big reminder you had of those days aside from the pictures stuffed in a box in your garage, somewhere on a shelf that was too high for you to reach without a chair to stand on. 
You were about to drive back from work to that garage when you caught sight of a familiar car in the parking lot. The colours were not as you remembered them, but it was strange to see a sports car like this at an office like yours. You stared at the vehicle for a long time and then sighed, before opening the driver's door to your car. However, as soon as you opened the door, the sports car you had been staring at earlier flashed its lights and started honking. You squinted your eyes and closed the door again. 
You locked your car and walked over to the other car that was making a ruckus. As soon as you approached, it quieted down and the driver’s door opened on its own. Against your best judgement, you got in. When you sat down, the seat belt wrapped itself around you and the engine revved to life. “Missed me?” A familiar voice came from the radio as the car drove out of the parking lot to God-knows-where. However, hearing that voice, you felt no fear, no worries, just a deep-seated resentment that had been dormant for many years. 
“Smokescreen,”  you greeted your ride with a tight voice. Said Autobot made a joke about how you simply could not forget him. It only angered you more. You had forgotten, mostly, until now. After that greeting, the air chilled down and not a word was exchanged, until Smokescreen pulled up at the side of an abandoned road. There used to be a factory at the end of it, but since the building had been decommissioned, no one used the road anymore; it was leading to virtually nowhere nowadays. 
The seat belt unfastened and you got out. When your shoes hit the dusty ground, the vehicle transformed into a shape that you used to know. You marvelled at his size as if it was the first time you witnessed his transformation. Cybertronians did not age, but that young face you used to know seemed more mature anyway. There was something about his gaze that got more intense, more serious. There was a slouch in his posture that was the telltale weight of responsibilities befitting an adult. 
Smokescreen whispered your name after a while of quiet staring. “Why are you here?” You inquired as a response. Hurt was evident on his face, but you thought it was a valid question. For over a decade, there was radio silence. Why would he be here if not for another danger looming over your planet? 
Smokescreen let out a scoff. “To see you of course!” He beamed in spite of everything. It was your turn to scoff as you crossed your arms. Your ex looked you over and then, very intelligently, said: “You’ve become bigger! That’s really cool! I forgot humans could do that… Want to go to the drive-in theatre today?” 
You sighed and turned to walk back to your car. It was gonna be a long walk, but you were stubborn and too prideful to tell him to drive you back. “There are no drive-in theatres in this area..” 
You barely got a few steps away when Smokescreen yelled from behind you. “I should have left you a message! I’m sorry!” You kept walking, tears prickling in your eyes. “I forgot!” He added as if it was a valid excuse. 
“Well, I forgot who you are!” You yelled over your shoulder, speeding up your walking. You heard your ex transform behind you and like a bad movie, he started driving next to you. All that was missing was pouring rain, but the sky was so clear, you could see the many constellations gradually making themselves known. 
He was driving with the door closest to you open, trying to get you to get in. “Come on! It has not been that long! I admit I have changed a little, but I’m still me, your Smokey…” You tried to block his voice out, stubbornly trudging on down the abandoned road. “I came back, because I started talking about you so much, Arcee practically shoved me into the space bridge to shut me up. It’s been like my processors always circle back to you.” He swerved and came to a halt right in front of you, forcing you to stop walking. “I told you I would see you soon…” 
You took a deep breath, ensuring that whatever you said next would be spoken in a normal, even tone. Smokescreen reverted back to bot mode, looking at you with pleading optics that could once pull your heartstrings. However, those times were long behind you. “Smokescreen,” you started like you were lecturing a child, “it has been like what? A decade and some? That may not be a long time for you, but I am human. A decade right now is about a third of my life. You made me wait a third of my life. Does that sink in with you?” 
Smokescreen seemed to shrink, pinned under your intense gaze. “I’m sorry,” he muttered eventually. His servos clenched and unclenched. You could see his processors working overtime, just to formulate a response. “I guess you’re right. Cybertron has become quite lively. I proved myself a leader. I made a lot of new friends… Maybe it is a long time…” For someone with a seemingly endless supply of RAM, he was awfully slowly putting the events of the past decade in perspective. His voice trailed off after every sentence. Eventually he just whispered one last thing. “A third…” 
You pitied him. You had enough time to mend the heart he broke many years ago. To him, however, he came back like he said, just to find what he left behind to no longer exist. Without a word he transformed into his alt mode. “I’ll take you back,” he stated. You did not resist this time and got in. 
The drive back was quiet. You did not speak. He did not speak. Only white noise filled the spaces between one heavy spark and only a slightly lighter heart. He drove you back to the parking lot where you had your car. You were about to get out when you heard his voice one last time. “For what it is worth, let me just say: I love you. You’re the best thing I ever had.” 
In spite of him being a stranger from the past, your heart ached. “Your life is long. You’ll love again. Don’t worry.” You patted the steering wheel and then got out. You did not look back and by the time you sat in your car, your car was the only one in the parking lot with the lights on.
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fanfic-obsessed · 2 years
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Time for the Clones to love Obi Wan
I was thinking…and maybe one of the SW series (Not this Crude Matter by thebitterbeast, it’s fantastic. You should read it) that I am reading is in the middle of the hurt but we haven’t hit the comfort, so I want something to soothe that. Now I shall inflict the results of that upon all of you. Be aware that some of these tropes don’t usually go together but I think if you walk with me you’ll see where it all connects.
We start with a tried and true, the clones are sent back to their younger selves at death. They arrive something like five years before the clone wars are to start and man are they all deeply traumatized.  Using all the collective knowledge they have (Rex was the last standing and he died of old age, living long enough to see Ben Solo’s birth after they fixed the accelerated aging. He was physically 110 when he died and living off of spite) they quickly take control of Kamino, dechip themselves, move the entire operation to an uninhabited world in the outer rim (Look there are a lot of inhabitable worlds and only so many sentients in the galaxy).  They make it abundantly clear they consider Boba their brother (though he did not have his older self’s memories) and that Jango was allowed to come with them as Boba’s father but the rest of the clones consider him both Dar’buir and Dar’manda, as well as just shy of Demagolka. He may have just watched 1 millions young adults, teens, and children wearing his face efficiently take over a planet, kill all but a handful of the trainers, and within days have a new planet to make their home out of. It has reawakened his Mandalorian adoption genes (and several other parts of his personality he would have sworn had been killed by slavery and Spice years ago) and he rather desperately wants to prove that they can call him Buir.
The thing about having come back from years and decades into the future, they know where all the bodies are buried. The former Coruscant guard, particularly, knows where to find proof of all of Sidious's dealings, even five years prior to any of them meeting him. This is a highly trained, highly efficient army.  Within a tenday they have released proof of Palptine’s misdeed onto the Holonet. Before the fallout could fully affect the Sith, Palpatine is shot and killed with three slugs from a slug thrower sniper rifle; the perpetrators are never caught.  The Vod’e are careful never to confirm exactly where Fox, or any of the Coruscant Guard were in the time before or after the assination that it would have taken to get to Coruscant or back (They did not actually do the deed, it was an assassination attempt that Palpatine had easily dodged in the first timeline, he was just a little too distracted by his business being aired in this one). 
The initial plan of the Vod’e was to get settled and eventually approach the Jedi. Their Jedi. They didn’t know how to convince the Jedi to trust them (whether the Jedi remembered or not) but they intended that eventually the Jedi would not go on missions alone any longer. 
That was the Plan
This is where the second trope comes into play. Groups of Senators, desperate for anything to distract from the fact that the Chancellor they backed turned out to be planning Genocide (It could be argued that being Sith was not actually illegal, and every single one of them did). They found a set of Blue laws that, combined with the fact that the Fett Clones (as they were generally being called) were on paper ordered by a Master of the Jedi Order, meant that the Senate could marry (really it was assign as a hostage but it was worded as marry) a member of the Jedi Order to a member of a group they had wronged for the sake of an alliance.
FUN FACT: A Blue Law is a US State law on the books that is no longer enforced, mostly forgotten, and sounds a little ridiculous. I also personally believe that it remains on the books because in order to have it removed, someone has to stand in front of a state legislative body and actually say the law. Two examples come to mind: In Alaska it is illegal to push a moose out of an airplane and in Massachusetts a parent can call the police to have their children arrested for being unruly. 
Now back to the regularly scheduled Madness
Now the Senate does not want to send someone too important to the Fett Clones. In fact if they could choose someone that would be a subtle insult, all the better. They choose a youngish knight, who had only been a knight less than a decade, with a Padawan. They choose a knight that, on paper, is not that impressive. Reports from his younger years indicate he was a decent, if slightly aggressive, initiate. Nearly not chosen.  Mission reports during his padawanship were sparsely written and mentioned him little. Having taken a padawan younger than average, he was temple bound more often than most during their first years of knighthood. 
The Senate chose Obi Wan Kenobi as a spouse. While he was somewhat famous within the order already (for the fight with Maul, his rocky apprenticeship, and taking Anakin on before he was even officially knighted) outside of the Order he was a random Jedi, remembered fondly by those who met him personally but not well known by the galaxy at large. 
Had this happened with any other group, the insult would have landed as intended. However this was the Vod’e. The Vod’e remembered General Obi Wan Kenobi, the Negotiator. And while almost every Vod’e would claim that their Jedi was the best Jedi, the best General, the best Jedi General, and the best sentient in general, everyone could agree that Kenobi was amazing (the 501st would like it understood that they have a…complicated relationship with the memories of their general. On the one hand he led the march on the temple, on the other, even as Vader he tended to treat them better than he did Nat borns. Not well by any measure, plenty of brothers died at Vader’s hands but it did always seem as if he was just a hair less likely to throw a tantrum that would hurt them then he was to do the same to the nat born officers).  To a man every member of the Vod’e is ecstatic that they are sending The Obi Wan Kenobi to them.
When they had been first told that they were being given a Jedi to marry they kind of shrugged at each other, in spite of the efforts of the best efforts of the Jedi and the previous timeline, most of the Voe had no real concept of how Nat borns operate, and even the little bit they did know seemed to be contradictory. They figured they would adjust who of the Vod’e would be the ‘spouse’ based on the Jedi sent (Since everyone knew that Bly would kill the person who wasn’t him who got to marry Aayla), so upon being informed that Obi Wan Kenobi would arriving within a tenday they restructured the government so that Cody could take up duties as Obi wan’s spouse (They envisioned the marriage being Cody mostly following Obi Wan on Jedi missions, so he had to be able to be off planet for long stretches of time) and Cody is practically vibrating with excitement (in between rushes of nauseating anxiety and crippling guilt) at being able to woo his Jedi. 
So we now have three very disparate groups with three very different ideas about what was happening. 
The senate knew next to nothing about the Fett Clones, save that they are clones of Jango Fett so likely would have a grudge against the Jedi (Obi Wan the sacrifice/hostage). They do not know, or (for most of the senate) particularly care what the Clones do with their Jedi Hostage.  Internally it is known that the chosen Spouse cannot be killed within the first six months of the marriage, but makes no other caveat for treatment.
We have the Jedi, who also know next to nothing about the Clones. They actually know little more than the Senate, and anticipate that the Clones might be unhappy about Master Sifo-Dyas actions (the Clones decidedly are not).  They believe that violence will be done on Obi wan’s person, and they do care. But, like in the clone wars before them,  none of the Jedi believe that they are able to do anything about it.  With a heavy heart, they decide to treat this as a suicide mission, in that when Obi Wan leaves he likely will never be heard from again. The entire council vows to take on the tuition of Anakin Skywalker, now fourteen. They are able to make it clear to young Anakin that there is no choice, that not a single one of the Jedi have a choice in this matter. 
The sheer raw emotions that Anakin could feel, exacerbated by the fact that no one, from Yoda on down, had ever realized that the Senate could do this, helped tie him closer to the Jedi. They were not unfeeling, but they still stood, mourning his master before his death. He was still young enough to remember the helplessness not being able to help other slaves and thinks that this feeling is very familiar. 
And we have the clones, who do not know that they have just been gifted a Jedi that the other players expect to be dead with a rotation. They are so…so happy to see Obi Wan.  How each member of the former 212th had been racking their brains for days for every detail of Their general’s likes and dislikes (there are a string of missions to make sure there is a good stock of the best tea they could find). That there had been a day-long tournament on who got the honor of going to the Core to collect their Jedi (Cody cannot because they are still shifting duties so that when his husband took missions again he could go with him). 
When Obi Wan boarded the cruiser that would take him to his new husband, he expected crackling, icy anger. He expected the brittleness in the Force that had always meant hatred to him. Instead he was buffeted by fondness and glee.  By a strange twist of relief. The cruiser was small enough that he was traveling with a total of 10 people. Each of those 10, at some point in the short trip, would stop and the Force around them would become distress. They would stare into the middle distance for several moments, then, upon coming back to themselves, would seek Obi Wan out and ask for a hug.
Even arriving on the still unnamed planet, Obi Wan is greeted by people who are ecstatic for him to be there.  It is unnerving, to expect hostility and receive hugs and joy (Well, Jango does radiate hostility into the Force, but he is well aware he is on thin ice. And he may not know why but his Ad, no he is not allowed to call them that out loud, clearly loves the Jetti). His husband (there was no ceremony, just paperwork signed by the Vod’e and the Republic) stands a respectful distance away and keeps making aborted motions like he also wants to hug him. They have stocked his favorite teas and ask questions about his padawan and various other Jedi and seem almost desperate for the answers. They even give him a comm unit for his room, which he does not have to share with his husband, they say to contact his family in the Core (He never uses it, he can’t possibly trust it). The closest thing to violence that happens is when the Medics tell him if he doesn’t give a reasonable amount of sleep they will sedate him. This is so much better than he thought. 
For the Clones part they can tell he is low key freaking out.  Which in turn is freaking them out.  They go round and round, what if he remembers what they did? But he doesn’t give any indication that he did, that those memories exist. Well, what if he only subconsciously remembers. The last time some of them saw him, they were shooting him off a cliff. Cody, in particular, is full to the brim with Anxiety. He desperately wants to hold Obi Wan, to ground himself in the Jedi’s heartbeat and try to forget a dusty world and the words ‘Blast him’ and all the horror that came after.
Four months pass, as Obi Wan slowly relaxes and accepts that at the very least the clones do not want to hurt him, personally. He can’t quite believe that they have no designs on the Order as a whole and is still fairly awkward around all of them. This is compounded by the fact that they seemed to know his preferences better than he does (leading him to believe that the entirety of the Vode are obsessed with him and obsession turns to darkness so easily). It all comes to a head when Jango picks a fight that reveals that the entire Jedi Order thought that they were being forced to send Obi Wan to die at the hands of the Vode.  That all of Obi Wan’s awkwardness is based on this fear (and the fear that they were going to use anything he said to hurt other Jedi) as well as the fact that he had no choice in the matter, he has no memories of the previous timeline.
There is a very long moment where every Vod’e in the room just stares at Obi Wan, before a collective panic attack the likes of which this universe has never seen spills into the Force.  It goes on for 45 seconds before Fox manages to get everyone into at least some semblance of calm (Both Jango and Obi Wan are watching all of this, wide eyed. They are temporarily on the same page in the land of What the Fuck).   Fox manages to clarify that 1)no the Vod’e do not hold any grudge against the Jedi, they were made for the Jedi and had in fact rebelled to protect the Jedi 2) Obi Wan was in no danger here and they would not keep him here if he wanted to leave, 3) what they (the Vod’e) thought was happening when they were ‘given’ a Jedi (They had thought that this a somewhat normal occurrence of a trope called ‘marriage of convenience’ where the only thing that was going different was that Cody could legally insist on going on missions with Obi Wan) and 4) inquired if this was why they were having a hard time getting in contact with the rest of the Jedi (Yes. Yes it was.). Fox also asked, on behalf of the rest of the clones, exactly which senators voted to send Obi Wan to them (The moment their panic faded, the 212th was going to be on their way to Coruscant and he wanted to have a list of targets ready).
Obi Wan told Fox that he didn’t know who voted for what, but offered to contact the Jedi right then. He did, on the main communications relay with more than half the Vode leadership looking on.  Using his own personal codes saw the call connecting immediately, with several members of the High Council visibly bracing themselves for whoever was on the other end(No one could be sure what condition Obi Wan would be in, if he was even the person using those codes). Obi Wan explains the months long misunderstanding (He had not clarified, as he did not want to rock the boat and remind the Vode of the torture option if they had ever planned to go that way. The Vod’e could tell Obi Wan was freaking out and they were trying to be considerate). There was much rejoicing as it became clear that Obi Wan was being treated well. It is decided that several members of the council (Yoda, Mace Windu, Yaddle, Plo Koon, and Shaak Ti), Anakin Skywalker, Quinlan Vos, and Eerin Bant would come to the still unnamed planet to clear up any further misunderstanding (Also the Vod’e had been building a temple for the Jedi as a surprise and wanted to show it off).
In the meantime, with the revelation that they were not going to hurt his family, Obi Wan fully relaxed around the Vode. It became obvious once he was paying attention (and not splitting his focus by trying to keep himself aloof from people who were so happy he was there) that his husband was trying to Woo him, and also date him. He found himself not opposed (the potential for love was there, but from his perspective he had effectively been sold to Cody and had spent four months half convinced that any information that he gave would be used against the Jedi). He found that he was particularly fond of the way Cody blushed when Obi Wan flirted with intent (as opposed to the absent minded flirting when he wanted a potential enemy to be off balance. Obi Wan had no idea how Cody was able to tell the difference, but he could).  Throughout Vod’e of all ages would seek Obi Wan out and request a hug, though always respectfully (generally the 212th, and mostly after they had nightmares of the previous timeline).
While this turned out more serious than I had actually intended, I just want you to go out and imagine teenage clones, freaked out because they had a nightmare about Utapau seeking a bemused Obi Wan for a hug, because he is alive.
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that-basic-simp · 7 months
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Down By The River
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Karlach X Fem! Reader CW:Some mature language is used! WC:3.4k+ Slowly rising from my soft bed, I stretched and let out a yawn, letting the sun's warm rays shine down on me through the small window. My mother was outside by the well washing some clothes. As for my father, he was out on the hunt with some of his friends to get some food for dinner tonight. Throwing on what I normally wear, I step out of my room, pass through the kitchen, and to where my mother was outside. "Nice to see you're finally awake," my mother chuckled. "Sorry I was out partying with some friends," I stretched a little better now. "I have you know, you were the one who wanted me to get out in the first place." "I know, but I wasn't expecting you to be sleeping so long." "Kind of hung over, if you ask me. Do you need any help?" "If you're able to go down by the river, can you get some fresh water?"
"The well water isn't good?" "I've been using it to wash clothes, Y/N." "Alright," I said and grabbed the wooden bucket nearby.  Heading down into the woods, I slowly made my way down the hill as I was humming a song my mother sang to me when I was young. It was passed down to our family through the decades and it was always sung whenever a baby was being put to sleep. So whenever I had a child, I would be singing it to them as they fall asleep. I don't know where it came from, but it's a tradition now. Reaching the river, I knelt down and stuck the bucket into the water, catching the flowing water. Carefully pulling it up, I set it on the ground. Since I was here alone in the woods, might as well look around. Wandering around, I took in how the grass rose to my knees and the trees towered over me like the village gates that we lived outside of. There were so many vines hanging down to where I could grab onto them and swing to my heart's content. I would occasionally do that if I was out in the woods here by myself. But my father was usually with me, telling me I need to be more lady like. That I can't wander alone in the woods as much as I please and that I need to think about finding someone soon. He and my mother want a grandchild as soon as I am able, but I do not want to get into a relationship so quickly at the moment. Especially since I haven't come out to either of them.  While I was in my own thoughts, I heard some footsteps coming in my general direction. Peeking around the tree I was standing behind, I saw someone running down the hill, their head looking over their shoulder numerous times before they directed their attention to me. Taking in a deep breath, they rushed towards me. I was about to run back to the house, but something about the way they were running told me that they were fleeing. I heard shouts and yells as a crowd of people were running after this person. I had to help them. I motioned for them to follow me and they ran faster. I took off running in a direction to where I knew we could hide. Once the person caught up to me, I ducked behind a large set of bushes and they slid beside me. Grabbing their arm, I pulled them under the foilage and we tried to settle our breathing. "Where the hells did she go?" "She had to have gone this way, right?" "If she did, the entire woods would be burned down." "I am surprised she ran in here. Considering her infernal engine and such." "Come on," a familiar voice spoke. Poking my head out carefully, I saw my father was walking with some people I didn't recognize. Once they were out of the woods, I stood up carefully before turning to face the person who I just saved. Their red skin gave them away. Actually, it was the one broken horn and one intact that gave them away.  "K-Karlach Cliffgate," I said. She stood up and brushed the dirt off of the leather straps she was wearing. "Yep, that's my name," she said, sighing. "How do you know me?" "Someone named Wyll was talking to my father a week ago about running after a Tiefling who fled Avernus. That she fought in the Blood Wars and Zariel put an engine where her heart used to be."
"You seem to know a lot about me," she narrowed her eyes. "I-It's just that, my father agreed to hunt you down with Wyll." "Well, seems like you're not like you're father at all." "Why would I want to hunt down someone who wants to live?" It looked like she wanted to cry right then and there. She shifted a bit awkwardly, trying to find a comfortable way to show her gratitude towards me. "Y-Yes. I-I want that more than anything! I want to be free and to be alive! I don't know how long this infernal engine will keep running with me no longer being in Avernus. I-I thought I would never find someone who would understand." "Well, I kind of understand what it's like to fear for your life." "Why's that?" she asked. I took a cautious step away from Karlach, but she seemed to read myself better than I could. She nodded her head, backing away as well. "Sorry, didn't mean to get personal when we barely know one another." "I-It's alright. I-I'll just start with my name first, since I know yours. I'm Y/N," I said, sticking my hand out to shake hers. She shook her head, "I-I can't really touch people. When you pulled me into the bush, while you were able to touch me very briefly, it was exactly that. It was brief. But it is nice to meet you, Y/N." "If you ever need help, follow me," I walked over to the river, picking up the bucket that I left there.
"What if you don't come when I do?" "Keep coming until I am there. I will do the same with you." She smiled, "See you around then." "I will look out for Wyll and my father." "Thank you, Y/N." We went our separate ways for now. I returned to my mother with the water, which she directed me to our small kitchen so my father could use it to get lunch ready. He was moaning and groaning about how the Tiefling he was after had gotten away due to someone helping her. Thankfully he didn't recognize it was me who helped said Tiefling. I had to tread carefully down by the river now. A couple of days had passed and I was wandering down by the river, watching the water flow and some of the crawfish swim up and down the stream. There were even some toads hopping around as well as newts and other amphibians. Some birds were flying high in the sky and some landed on the tree branches for a rest. As I was admiring the environment above, I didn't pay attention to the ground below. "FUCK!" I looked down to find Karlach was resting against a tree and I had just stepped on her tail, as she was holding it tightly in her hands. "I-I am so sorry, Karlach," I said. 
"Gotta watch where you're going around in these parts," she released her tail, standing up. "Kind of hard to miss a long, red tail mixed in with this green shit." "It could have been a snake." "I doubt a snake will be entirely red." "You never know. They could be." "Sure," she said, nodding her head. "I'm surprised to find you here so soon." "I've been a bit busy with things, such as trying to hide from Wyll and your father." "They're still after you." "They won't rest until I am dead or I am back in Avernus. I am never going back there." "I don't blame you. Fighting for ten years and having an engine for a heart," I said. "Are you able to fix it?" "Fix it as in fine tune it to where I don't burn as much as I do." "Is there a way where we can do that?" "There is a possible way of doing it, but it requires infernal iron." "I think I know someone who can help with that." "Who?" "Dammon. I have known him due to my father and he's a blacksmith. He may have some infernal iron on hand." "Where is he?" "In the village just west of the river," I said, pointing in the direction of the village. "Y/N! Where are you, Y/N?!" my father called.
"Shit, I-I have to go," I said. "W-Will I see you again?" Karlach asked. "I-I can't promise it," I said. "But I will be waiting by the river." Running back towards my house, I found my father at the edge of the house before it lead into the woods. "There you are," he said, placing his hand in the middle of my back. "Where did you run off to in the woods?" "Just by the river," I said. "Find anything good?" "No. Nothing out of the ordinary, if that's what you're asking." "I just want to make sure you're safe. There is a rampaging Tiefling on the loose and I am determined to capture it." "It's not like a Tiefling can walk in the woods without burning it down." "Sometimes yes, sometimes no. The Tiefling we're after has an engine as a heart. That is what makes it dangerous." "What makes it so dangerous?" "This Tiefling fought in the Blood Wars with Zariel. They are a force to be reckoned with. Until we capture and kill this Tiefling, you are no longer allowed in the woods." "Dad, I am not a child anymore!" "I know, but you never know what could go on in there." "You let me in those woods when I was a child a long time ago without any supervision. Don't you think it's a bit ridiculous with what you want from me?" "No." I shook my head, "I am an adult, dad. I can do what I want." "Not while you live under my roof," he said. "Can we at least talk about it?" "No, we cannot." I let out a sigh and I begrudgingly walked into the house with my father following behind me. He kept a close eye on me every time I walked around the house. Whenever he wasn't around, my mother was watching me, even though she knew how much it pained me to not leave the area of the house. She wanted to let me leave, but my father held a lot of power over the two of us, which worried me with how Karlach would go down by the river and find me never there. She'd think I'd abandoned her. Weeks passed and my father would return with nothing. No sign of Karlach and no leads on where she went. She was smart, even though we met a couple times, her hot headed nature was not interferring with her instincts on surviving. Maybe it was a good thing she had ten years of fighting experience. She could definitely hold her own against my father and Wyll, but for how long before her engine gives out? How long does she have before it combusts? Those thoughts were swimming inside my head that my mother knew something was wrong. "Go," was all she said as we were sitting outside together. "B-But dad?" "I'll tell him I sent you to the market to get things. He'll be fine with that." "Are you sure?" "Yes. Something seems to be bothering you." I nodded my head and got up, heading into the woods and running towards the river. When I reached the water, I wandered around, looking at the ground in case I stepped on her tail again. I wanted to avoid that. As I was wandering, I was trying to silence those thoughts as they were coming back. While I had met her about a month ago, there was something about her that I never knew was there to begin with. Letting out a sigh, I sat down on the side of the river, watching the small fish swimming around. About to stick my finger into the water, a stick behind me snapped. I briskly turned and found the fiery Tiefling behind me. There was a wide smile on her face as we were face to face with one another. "Y-You're alright!" she smiled, taking a step towards me. I stood up and walked towards her, "Y-You're ok." "Your father is really after me, isn't he?" "He's not going to stop," I sighed. "What about you? You were gone for about three weeks and I came here to give you the good news, but you never came. But I didn't give up on you." "My father didn't allow me to leave the house because of you." "Because of me?" "Saying you were a force to be reckoned with." "While I do have ten years of experience of fighting in Avernus, I am not as a brute as they lead me to be." "I can see," I smiled. "You're sweet, caring to those who deserve it." She nodded her head, "You seem to read me like a book."
"I just figured it out since I helped you that day." "Wouldn't be the first time someone has helped me." "Did you get your engine tuned?" "I did," a wide smile appearing. "Haven't really rested it yet. But I know I got some work done on it." "Do you mind if I test it out?" I asked. "Of course." Taking a step towards her, I hugged her tightly. She let out a sigh as she placed her head on my shoulder. "It's been so long since I've been able to hold someone. To touch someone." "You're very warm," I said. "I like it." "I could get used to this." Pulling away, I looked into her fire like eyes. "I-I'm going to have to go soon. I can't be away for too long." "You know where to find me," she said, not wanting to let go just yet, but she did. We went our separate ways and for the next few days, my father started to become lenient on me going out into the woods as he came up with nothing on Karlach's location. However, that meant he was going to keep a close eye on me, but in a different way. Every time I tried to go into the woods, he would linger around me. He was going to use me to see if I could be of use to him. I had to do something about him before I give away our meeting place. Early in the morning I headed out of the house and made my way down to the river. As soon as I reached the water, Karlach was sitting there, patiently waiting for me. Walking towards her, I sat beside her. She turned and smiled, placing her hand on my leg, greeting me. "Morning, Y/N," she said. "Morning, Karlach." "Something wrong?" "Y-Yeah," I said. "I-It's my father. He is now keeping a close eye on me, but in a different sense." "You're a grown adult. He doesn't think you'll be able to handle yourself?" "No. I think he's suspicious about me." "About what?" "I've been coming into the woods a lot more than I used to. So I think he's trying to follow me to see if I know anything about you." She shook her head, "I don't want to fight your father, but if he doesn't get the message of me wanting my freedom, I'll have to show it to him." "I don't blame you for wanting to do that. I might let you." She chuckled, playfully shoving me, "I do owe you for saving my life." "You don't need to owe me anything. I was just helping someone live." "Even then, I do need to pay you back for what you've done. I can't live with myself knowing that I didn't pay off a great debt."
"It was nothing, Karlach." "It was everything to me, Y/N." I nodded my head, "Alright. I'll let this one slide." She smiled, "So, what do I owe you?" I stood there, tapping my chin as I was thinking of what she could do to repay this debt. I really didn't want anything other than to be beside her longer. I don't know how much time I would have before we were either caught or her engine ran out. I guess that was the only thing she could do. "I want to spend more time with you." "That's all?" "Yeah." "Usually people ask for me to kill someone for them as their debt. Or to burn someone alive. But never getting to know someone on a more personal level." "Ever since I saved you that day, you never really left my head." "I could say the same thing about you, Y/N." "Why don't we walk and talk?" I asked standing up to take her hand, leading her further up the river. For the entire morning and into the afternoon, it was just the two of us. Nothing in the world mattered in that moment. It felt genuine to be with her. She was a genuine person to be around. Karlach gave off this positive energy despite being used for war for ten years. I really commend her for having such a bright personality. She was just so bubbly that I don't know why my father and Wyll are after her. She really just wanted to enjoy her time right here and right now. The sun started to set and we soon found ourselves sitting against a tree that was far up stream, far past my house and heading towards the mountain range. We were laughing as we sat beside one another, as Karlach told a joke that was absolutely terrible that I only laughed due to her infectious laugh. "You really are a good person, Karlach." "There are better, believe me, Y/N." "To me though, you're a good person." She smiled, "Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot to me." Stretching her arms, she yawned, her sharp teeth being bared to the air. They looked like they could hurt and rip into flesh if she tried. "Your teeth," I said. "What about them?" she turned in my direction. "They look sharp." "They kind of are. Want a first hand experience?" she smirked, one of her eyebrows perking upwards. I leaned towards her, placing my hand on her cheek. She leaned towards me and our lips brushed against one anothers before they pressed up against each other. Her lips were warm, as to be expected. My lips curled upwards as I smiled against her lips. Her mouth slightly opened and her teeth pinched at my bottom lip as she bit down on it. They were sharp, but she wasn't biting with enough force to make my lip bleed. Pulling away, her eyes and aura had changed. Instead of the bright, red flames they were, her engine was now blue and her eyes matched. The flames illuminating her hands were the same color. "W-Whoa," I smiled, admiring her blue flames. "Blue flames are the hottest of all flames," she said. "I got you heated, didn't I?" I chuckled. "Only you can do that, Y/N." I smiled and pulled her into a hug. Once she pulled away, she found her way in between my legs, resting her head on my lap. I giggled as I ran my hand through her red and black hair. Some parts of it felt like they were singed. My hand ran up the horn on the left side of her head while I tapped the broken horn on the right side. She closed her eyes and melted into my touch as I'd occasionally run my hand through her hair and down her arm. Her tail came around and wrapped loosely around my ankle. "Can we stay like this forever?" she asked. "Always, Karlach. Always," I said and leaned down, placing a kiss to her forehead.
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stromuprisahat · 1 month
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This country, the Darkling shouted. They can’t even let you fake your death in peace!
I knew that the more powerful Grisha were said to live long lives, and Darklings were the most powerful of them all.
Shadow and Bone- Chapter 3
“How old are you? ... Because I’ve heard stories about you since I was a child, but you don’t look much older than I am. ... If you don’t want to answer me, just say so.”
“I don’t want to answer you.”
“Oh.”
Then he sighed and said, “One hundred and twenty. Give or take.”
“They said you were the strongest Darkling in generations.”
“I didn’t ask you for flattery.”
Shadow and Bone- Chapter 5
Just how fucked Ravka is, if the Darkling can’t even risk change of aliases?
“The world is changing, Alina. Muskets and rifles are just the beginning. I’ve seen the weapons they’re developing in Kerch and Fjerda. The age of Grisha power is coming to an end.”
That situation’s too unstable to fake his death and try to establish himself all over again?
Let’s say the weaponry’s a matter of last decade or so. What was it before?
“Do you know the story of Andrei Zhirov?” 
“The revolutionary?” 
Zhirov had been a radical in Nikolai’s grandfather’s time. 
A grin ghosted over Dominik’s blood-flecked lips. “When they tried to hang him for treason, the rope broke and he rolled into the ditch the soldiers had dug for his grave.” 
Nikolai tried to smile. “I never heard that story.” 
Dominik nodded. “This country, Zhirov shouted. They can’t even hang a man right.”
King of Scars- Chapter 12
“Nikolai’s granfather’s time” would be some twenty, thirty years ago? Assuming the royals hurry to ensure the succession ASAP...
There’s been a suggestion somewhere, that Grisha could’ve been used to subdue the uprising. Even if that wasn’t the case, as we can clearly see throughout the books, crises are great times to re-awake some nice anti-Grisha hatred. Failed attempt to improve situation of Ravkan people would likely cause some displeasure, and who better to aim that at, than the Crown’s fancy serfs? You can’t harm the King, but you can kick his toys.
The “Last” official Darkling lived as long as he did to keep an eye on Ravkan masses. He might be hated, he might be blamed for every possible misfortune, but he’s also feared enough to make people think twice before crossing him.
The minute he’s out of picture- anti-Grisha pogroms begin.
To quote show!Aleksander, when he was still allowed some braincells:
Our enemies are threatened by your mere existence. But Ravka can only stand up to them if we present a united front. And there is talk of uprising in the West, led by our. esteemed First Army General. Our own people, turning their backs on us. I have been fighting this war alone for so long. I have buried so many good soldiers. Friends. The coffers are running dry, the noose tightens... and our own people are turning against Grisha, just as their kin once did.
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holylulusworld · 1 year
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Two kings (prologue)
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Summary: You have fallen in love with the king of Brooklyn. When your wedding day arrives, there is much more to discover about the man you fell in love with than you thought...
Pairing: Prince!Steven Grant Rogers x Princess!Reader  
Warnings: angst, modern royal au, mentions of destruction/war/fighting/mystery, dystopian world (kinda), royals bashing (kinda), no dialogue in the beginning
A/N: Please consider this is a short prologue to get to know more about the world the reader is living in. It’s necessary to understand a few aspects of the story. We are living in modern times, but in a dystopian/post war world.
Two kings masterlist
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Five decades ago, ...
Blood was staining the ground fifty years ago; feeding the world with more pain and hatred of those who had fallen.
Millions of lives were lost. A war without sense. Doomsday. Final tick of the clock.
With governments and armies losing battle after battle, the ones with royal blood raised their swords again.
Modern times have taken away their rightful place in society. They just had to wait for their chance to get it back. Hidden in the shadows they planned on taking over the world once again.
Their knights stood tall by their kings' and queens’ sides, fighting down the enemy threatening to eat their world alive. An enemy this world hadn't faced for centuries.
Enemies from a different time. The forgotten ones. Their history has been banished from history books.
Revenge of the second sons. The spare. Greedy corpses wanting to get their hands on the crowns their heads never felt.
Dark Age reanimated. Brutal. Deadly. Bloody.
It took more than five years and more losses – but the war was won.
Only winning always comes with a price. One that everyone agreed to pay.
An awful price paid with blood and death.
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Today, age of seven, …
You always wondered how the world before the world war tearing it apart was alike.
Love. Freedom. Free will.
Did you have all of this? Was life better back then, when the powerful didn’t decide how you must live your life?
Of course, your father and your tutors tried to teach you about history. Reading about the world you lost before you were even born is just not the same.
You’re only a child, but you know there are rules that must be followed.
Rules you cannot break. Not even as a princess.
“Bunny Boo,“ your father tuts as you stick your nose into another book. “Y/N, you know today is important to our kingdom.”
You close the book, sighing deeply. “I know, daddy.”
“Today I’m not daddy, Bunny Boo,” he crouches down next to your chair to pat your knee. “Around our guests you must call me your majesty. You remember our lectures?”
You recite your tutor's words, "I should act like a princess today. I’ll make you proud your majesty. I remember every word. I promise to be respectful and well-behaved.”
“I know you will,” he runs his hand over your head. “You are my pride and the apple of my eye. One day, you will become queen and rule this kingdom.”
If not a brother will take my place," you remind your father. He smiles softly. You’re too young to understand that a male heir won’t take your place in his heart. Only the throne. “Who will come today, daddy? I forgot.”
“I’ll tell you on the way,” he softly says. “First we need to change into something new. You cannot run around in your shirt and jeans.”
As you drop your eyes to your chest, you reply, "But I like the bees on my shirt. They are cute and help the flowers.”
“For me, Bunny Boo," your father says as he gets back on his feet. “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”
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“Hey, you cannot pick the flowers," you say as you let go of your mother's hand to move toward the roses. A boy just picked three red roses and now you are furious. “These are my mom’s flowers.”
As he looks at you sheepishly, he replies, "They're nice.”
“You can’t just…” you stomp your foot. “Who are you? How dare you rip my mom’s flowers out?"
“Sorry,” he looks at the flowers in his hands. The boy is a little elder and taller than you but oddly he shies away as you get closer to him. “I wanted to pick some flowers for the princess. My father said she likes flowers.”
“You want them for the princess?”
He nods. "I forgot the gift my mother bought for the princess. Dad was mad and I wanted to get some flowers to make up for the forgotten gift.”
“You’re an odd boy,” you giggle. “You want to give me my mom’s flowers?”
“You are the princess?” his cheeks redden as you look him up and down.
“Yes.”
He grins and hands you the flowers. “Princess Y/N, it’s an honor to meet you,” he bows. “I’m Prince Steven Grant Rogers. Will you give me the honor to show me around the gardens?"
“Only if you promise to stop stealing flowers…”
>> Part 1
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Tags in reblog.
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itsapeterthing · 2 years
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Hello Again || Bucky Barnes
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pairing: bucky barnes x rogers!reader
summary: after decades apart, you discover that your husband is alive and your brother has been keeping a secret.
a/n: this story largely follows the plot of civil war, reblogs and replies are super appreciated!
word count: 7.1k
warnings: angst, reader is steve’s adopted sister, mentions of bucky’s past, death, anything that was in civil war
masterlist || rogers!reader masterlist 
Two Years Earlier
“He looked right at me.” Steve said in disbelief. “He didn’t even know me.”
“How was that even possible?” Sam asked. “It was like 70 years ago.”
“Zola.” Steve replied. “Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ‘43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must of found him and...”
“None of that’s your fault, Steve.” Natasha said drowsily, her head lolling to the side. Pausing, she squeezed her eyes shut. “God, how are we going to tell-”
“We’re not.” Steve stated firmly, cutting Natasha off. “We’re not telling her.”
Despite the stinging pain in her shoulder from the bullet wound she had endured and her overwhelming urge to shut her eyes and allow herself to rest, Natasha furrowed her eyebrows and looked up at the super soldier sat beside her.
“You’re going to lie to her?” She asked in disbelief. “You find out her husband’s alive after seventy years and you’re not gonna tell her?”
“No.” Steve said, looking down at his hands. “Nobody is. You don’t... you don’t know what it was like, okay? She’ll die trying to save him.”
A silence hung in the air for a moment.
“And you won’t?” Natasha asked.
Remembering the feeling of your arm slipping through his on your wedding day moments before he walked you down the aisle and the fear in his best friend’s eyes as he fell to his death, Steve shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter.” Steve said finally. “What happens to me doesn’t matter, alright? I’m bringing him back to her remembering who the hell she is or not at all.” He took a deep breath, staring in front of him. “I’m not gonna let her down this time. You didn’t... you didn’t see the way she broke last time, okay? Let me handle it, Nat.”
Now
Standing beside you as a photo of your husband’s face and name flashed across the screen in front of the both of you, Natasha regretted her decision to honor your brother’s wishes two years ago.
As you stood there with ash coating your face and your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you almost felt as though time had stopped when you saw your husband’s image for the first time in seventy years. Your breath caught in your throat and you were sure your heart had stopped. You were surprised you hadn’t fainted on the spot.
It couldn’t be happening.
It couldn’t be real.
Steve had told you seventy years ago that he had watched Bucky fall from that train with his own eyes- a fall he he swore your husband couldn’t have come back from. You had argued over searching for his body, trying anything to find closure in your husband’s demise for you and his family, but Steve had assured you that there was no way that Bucky could have survived- that you would just be lost in the cold along with him.
How couldn’t you have known? How did no one know that your husband was alive and walking around after seventy years apart?
That couldn’t be possible.
You couldn’t help but ask yourself-
Did no one know or was it only you?
Feeling the pressure build behind your eyes, tears already threatening to spill over, you took a shaky breath and turned to your best friend who was stood beside you.
In your years since waking up from a block of ice with your brother and devoting your life to protecting the world and maintaining the Avengers- you had learned to read people at a glance. A single second could be the difference between life and death, pain and peace... honesty and deceit... devotion and betrayal.
You had learned to read people like a book: especially those closest to you.
When you turned to Natasha and she wasn’t able to meet your eyes- her index finger tapping against her bicep and her jaw set in a hard line- you knew.
“Nat?”
The guilt was obvious in her eyes as soon as she looked at you.
“Y/n-” Natasha sighed somberly, reaching out her hand for yours.
Shrugging off her touch and backing away, you shook your head, trying to find it in you to say anything at all.
“How long have you known?”
At first Natasha could barely face you, feeling sick knowing that she was part of the complete and utter betrayal written all over your face and the pain behind your eyes.
Swallowing, knowing she deserved every bit of it, she glanced back at you.
“Two years.”
Two years? You thought. Two fucking years?
You couldn’t believe the way your best friend had betrayed you. You two had been inseparable since the day the two of you had met during the Battle of New York. You had connected with her more than any other person you had met since waking up in the twenty first century with your brother. 
You had shared everything with her and she had told you about parts of her past that even Steve hadn’t known.
Steve.
“Who’s going to tell Steve?” You asked.
When her face remained blank, your heart stopped in your chest as your face fell.
“Steve...” You said out of breath. “Steve knew?”
When you had found yourself nearly a century in the future, with everything you had known in your life behind you, you had always found solace in the fact that despite everything you had been through- you weren’t alone. By some miracle, both you and your brother had been through it all together... or so you had thought.
Knowing that Steve had kept such a secret from you, for the first time in your life you felt completely and utterly alone. It was almost as though you were the punchline of some cruel, sick joke that had gone on for far too long.
“He wanted to protect you.” Natasha explained. “He didn’t want to hurt-”
“So he kept it a secret that my husband was alive?” You raised your voice at the redhead, finding yourself losing your cool. “I- I never forgot about him and Steve knows that. He knows that I still wear my wedding ring. He knows I was with Buck’s sister when she died. He knows I never stopped loving him so tell me, Nat, how the hell am I supposed to take this? I’ve been beating myself up every day missing him and... and he could’ve been here this whole time?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Nothing in our life is.” You retorted. “Spell it out for me.”
Natasha knew you were nothing if not strong. You took everything life had thrown at you bravely, never allowing yourself to get knocked down by it. You had survived your parents death, your husband’s death, being lost in time and thrown into a future you had never planned- you lived a life most people couldn’t comprehend, but you pushed through, reminding yourself there was nowhere to look but forward. 
But everyone had weaknesses and she knew your husband was one of them.
She didn’t know how to tell you that the man you cared for so deeply had been kidnapped, mutilated and brainwashed into a soldier with a death count that would make even you shudder. She didn’t know how to tell you that a man you thought about every single day at once didn’t have a single inkling of who you were or what either of you had shared. She didn't know how to tell you that the man you left behind wouldn't be the same one returning to you, but she found herself not having any other choice.
“I think you should sit down, Barnes.”
-
Steve stepped carefully throughout the apartment despite the complete disarray it found itself in. The super soldier couldn’t help but grimace to himself as he glanced around where his best friend and brother-in-law was living out of, reminding himself of the warm home the two of you used to share.
Despite not having much, you made do with what you did have. Every time Steve walked through your doors, he felt a sense of comfort, belonging and peace- something that the space between the four walls he was standing in now was completely devoid of.
“You have a real knack for this sort of thing.” Steve said, taking in the freshly decorated living room in you and Bucky’s newly shared apartment. “You’re way better than Ma.”
“Yeah, well,” You laughed, flopping yourself down onto the couch. “Mom had to work with that God awful wallpaper. It’s hard to make anything look good with that.”
Just as you were about to open your mouth once more, you heard the front door open and keys drop in the dish by the entrance.
“Sweetheart?” Bucky called throughout the apartment. “You home?”
“In the living room with Steve, hon!”
Both you and Steve looked up as you heard Bucky’s boot clad feet step into the room, still drenched in sweat and grease from his day at work. Regardless of all of that, Bucky held a bright smile on his face as he was greeted with the both of you.
Your smile, however, fell when you saw blood staining your husband’s palm and dripping down his fingertips.
“Jesus, Buck!” You exclaimed, pushing yourself off of the couch and rushing to his side, taking his bloodied hand in yours. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing, doll.” Bucky attempted to brush it off. “Just some scratch.”
When you ran your fingertips over the wound and heard him suck in his breath, you glanced up at him warily.
“Just some scratch, huh?”
Your husband had known you well enough and long enough to know that you would see right through his facade and that it wasn’t worth putting up a front for much longer. Rather than arguing with you about how it was nothing to worry about, he only looked down at you and shrugged.
“M’sorry.”
“S’alright, hon.” You assured him, guiding him over to the couch. “Just let me get some stuff and I’ll clean it up, alright?”
Plopping himself down on the couch besides Steve, Bucky held his hand out over his lap, careful not to drop any blood on the fabric of the sofa the two of you had admittedly splurged on.
“The place looks nice, Buck.” Steve said, taking another sip from his glass.
“Thanks, but it was all your sister, pal.” Bucky chuckled, taking in the space around him in admiration. “It’s not a surprise though- I don’t think there’s a single thing she’s not good at.”
As the sun began to set behind the windows, you walked out of your bathroom and back into the living area, a damp wash cloth and bandages in hand. Squeezing yourself onto the couch besides your husband, you gingerly took his hand in yours and gently dabbed the wash cloth against his skin- Steve catching Bucky watching you, mesmerized, all the while.
As the sun set and the warm glow of your lamps illuminated the space, Bucky sat back comfortably, taking in how lucky he was to have someone like you to share his life with. Despite the pain, stress and exhaustion he could feel during the day, he always found a reason to smile and peace in the fact that he would be coming home to you at the end of the night.
As you finished wrapping his wound, you lifted his bandaged hand to your lips and pressed a light kiss against his skin before resting it in your own lap and running your fingers over the back of his hand gently.
Not wanting to be too “lovey dovey” in front of your brother, you only stared up at your husband and when your eyes met, you knew he understood your wordless “I love you”.
When he smiled, you knew he said it back.
As hard as you tried to relieve your brother of you and Bucky’s constant infatuation with each other, Steve caught the interaction regardless and felt a sense of relief knowing the two people he cared about most had found peace in each other and had created such a loving home.
Now, as Steve walked through the apartment, he felt a longing for a place left in time and a tugging on his heart at the future none of you had foreseen. Eyeing a journal on top of the refrigerator, Steve pulled it into his own hands and opened it slowly.
When Steve saw a small print of a poster made recently of you and him inside, Steve felt a sense of relief wash over him, knowing that somewhere in there, Bucky still knew not only who he was, but more importantly- who you were.
But Steve was nothing if not a man out of time.
“Heads up, Cap. German Special Forces approaching from the south.”
“Understood.” Steve replied to Sam over the coms.
Steve had been on enough missions to recognize someone’s presence behind him, even without a word- even if they were trained to not make a single sound. Steve felt his heart race in his chest for a moment as the realization hit him that he would be seeing his best friend for the first time in years and this time- Steve wouldn’t be letting him leave.
When Steve whipped his head around to meet Bucky standing behind him at a distance, he took in his appearance.
Bucky looked rough- battered and bruised- clear that the past two years and decades since he fell from that train hadn’t been kind to him. He looked uncared for- a shell of a man Steve had once known so well.
“You know me?” Steve asked finally, inhaling deeply.
Taking in the look on his face, Steve could see the struggle behind Bucky’s eyes- to tell the truth or to lie? To allow himself to be vulnerable at the chance of happiness or to let himself rot for the crimes he never meant to commit?
“You’re Steve.” Bucky said shakily. “I read about you in a museum.”
All it took were those words for Steve to recognize that Bucky was putting up a facade.
He wasn’t sure what hurt more- Bucky truly forgetting who he was or feeling the need to lie to the people he cared about most out of misplaced shame and guilt.
“I know you’re nervous,” Steve said, glancing down at the journal before placing it back on the counter. “And you have plenty of reason to be... but you’re lying.”
Without missing a beat- or denying his best friend’s accusations- Bucky defended himself against the crimes he had been accused of earlier that day.
“I wasn’t in Vienna.” Bucky told him, shaking his head. “I don’t do that anymore.”
“They’re entering the building.”
“Well the people who think you did are coming here now,” Steve told him, glancing around the room anxiously. “And they’re not planning on taking you alive- but I am.”
If there was one word to describe Bucky Barnes at that moment, it was exhausted. He was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of trying to protect himself. Tired of making a million life-altering decisions in the matter of seconds... tired.
Bucky knew what going back with Steve meant. He knew it meant that he may have a chance to get out of this thing alive, but he also knew it meant facing you again.
James Barnes wanted nothing more in this world than to just collapse into your arms again. He remembered how you used to always hold him when he came back after a long day of work- the way you would greet him by the door with open arms- one hand running through his hair while the other traced your fingertips up and down his back. Bucky recalled the peace he felt as he fell into your arms and how your love would engulf him whole. And after so long fighting, so long working, so long being exhausted... he just wanted to come home to you.
But James Barnes was also ashamed of the man he had become. No matter how unwillingly he was subjected to it, he feared the look on your face when he finally saw you again. He feared how you'd shy from the touch of his metal arm even if you didn’t mean to. He feared your disapproval of his disheveled appearance that came with a life on the run. He feared you would give up on him so easily when he knew he had so much left to prove.
He couldn't bear to see you only for you to reject him. After all, you were one of the most beloved women on earth. Why would you ever want to be with the mess he had become?
James Barnes would have rather died never seeing you again than to take the chance that you would reject the man he was now.
Steve noticed the way Bucky’s brain was working a million miles a minute and intruded.
“It doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck.” Steve attempted to reason with him.
Hearing the sounds of footsteps outside the door, Bucky slipped off his glove.
“It always ends in a fight.”
-  
As Steve walked through the hall, he paid no mind to the spiel the Deputy Task Force Commander gave him on how he should be glad that he was in an office instead of a cell for going after his best friend and engaging in a fight. Instead, Steve’s mind was cluttered, afraid to face you again after you almost certainly discovered the secret that he had been keeping from you for the past two years.
Steve Rogers wasn’t scared often- or worried about the consequences of his own actions- but he always cared more than he would like to admit about what you thought of him.
And hiding the fact that your husband was alive after he denied your request to search for his body seventy years earlier?
Steve was sure you wouldn’t be too happy to see him.
“For the record,” Natasha said, striding up beside the super soldier. “This is what making things worse looks like.”
As much as Natasha attempted to play it cool and make it seem as though nothing truly affected the redhead, Steve could hear the biting tone in her voice, no doubt regretting the promise she had made to him years earlier.
“He’s alive.” Steve replied, his eyes trained ahead of him. “That’s what matters.”
As they finally came onto the room at the end of the hall that housed one large meeting table surrounded by televisions, Steve searched for your face. 
He grew sick when he saw you sitting at the table with Tony, your arms wrapped around yourself as you watched your long lost husband displayed on one of the screens.
“Y/n-”
Hanging up the phone he had been speaking into, Tony made his way towards Steve, cutting off the super soldier.
“I don’t think right now’s the best time.” Tony said lowering his voice as he glanced over his shoulder to where you sat. “Keeping the fact that her husband's alive a secret? And here I was thinking that you were all about truth, Cap.”
Steve understood his defensiveness and that only made it worse. Although he and Steve had never gotten along too well, you had hit it off so wonderfully with all of the team that it was almost as though you were made to be part of them. Although he was “Cap”, you were the glue that held all of them together and now Steve was feeling the effects of the unified defense they had built against the one who wronged you: your own brother.
“You wouldn’t get it, Tony.” Steve said, his mouth drawn in a straight line.
“Well, see... it’s interesting you say that,” Tony replied. “Because neither does she.”
Watching your fragile state sitting at the table only a few feet from him, he said nothing at all. Noticing the way that his words had put the super soldier in his place, Tony pat Steve’s shoulder.
“How about you and I have a chat?”
-
Sat at one end of the table, your eyes focused on one of the screens on the other side of the glass, you felt small. Your brother and Tony were on the other end discussing the Accords and although you hadn’t said a single word to your brother since you found out about his betrayal, you had hung on to every syllable.
“I don’t want to see you gone.” Tony said. “We need you, Cap. So far nothing’s happened that can’t be undone if you sign the Accords. We can make the last twenty-four hours legit. Barnes gets transferred to an American psych-center instead of a Wakandan prison.”
For a moment you glanced at your brother. Though, when his eyes met yours, you turned back to the screen in front of you.
The feeling you felt was one you could barely understand- to see the ghost of the man you loved imprisoned in front of your eyes. He was unrecognizable- not only because of his long hair and unkempt scruff, but even by the way he carried himself. This was a shell of the man you had been married to.
From what you understood, Bucky had lost all recollection of who Steve was, and by default, who you were. You weren’t aware of how much of a toll the last seventy years had taken on James Barnes until you watched the frightened, disheveled and exhausted man on the screen. He didn’t fight. He didn’t argue. You felt as though he didn’t care what happened to him.
That’s what stung the most- the knowledge that he felt so far gone that he had nothing to keep going for.
Lost in your own thoughts, your mind had strayed from the conversation at hand until you heard your brother and Tony’s voices rise above the amicable, yet still tense, discussion from moments earlier.
“Every time I think you see things the right way-”
“It’s a hundred acres with a lap pool.” Tony argued. “There’s worse ways to protect-”
“Protection?” Steve laughed. “Is that how you see-”
Although you had tried to keep your composure, your blood was quickly boiling and threatening to spill over the top. Before you could force yourself to choke it down, to just take your brother’s lead once more, you slammed your hand down on the table.
“Damn it, Steve!” You shouted at your brother for the first time that day. “Can you see past your own self righteousness for two seconds? Look at him!” You seethed, pointing to the display of Bucky on the screen. “When have you ever seen Buck like that, Steve? He needs help! Can you quit arguing for once in your life and just let Tony help him?”
As your chest rapidly rose and fell from your outburst, Steve took a deep breath. Though when you saw him shake his head, you knew he would stand his ground.
“Look, Y/n, I’m sorry for not telling you,” Your brother said. “But I’m trying to help. All I wanted was to protect you-”
Shooting up from your chair, you crossed the room and dug your finger into his chest.
“Don’t patronize me.” You said. “You did that for yourself because you felt guilty! And I don’t blame you for what happened, but I do blame you for lying to me. I’m not a kid anymore, Steve. That’s my husband in there. I deserved to know over anyone else and you took that from me! I could’ve helped-”
“You couldn’t have done anything-”
“You don’t know that!” You shouted, shoving at Steve. “You don’t know anything! You watched me live with that weight on my chest, missing him, and you knew he was alive the entire time! For two years you knew and didn’t tell me! You might think you did this to protect me, but all you did was kill me more, Steve. This isn’t what caring about someone is. You did this to protect yourself and you hurt both of us along the way.”
For a moment, the room stood in silence.
The most that could be heard were the sounds of whispered voices of the agents outside the room and your own heavy breathing.
A part of you- for the both of you- never grew up from that childhood stage of sibling competition. You weren’t sure if anyone ever did. All that you wanted him to do was admit defeat. All you wanted were for his shoulders to fall, the crease between his eyebrows to smooth and for him to admit that he was wrong. But he was a Rogers.
“I stand by what I did.”
But so were you.
“Get out.” You said, your voice leveling. “Let me clean up the mess that you made.”
Glancing from you to Tony, Steve could barely believe the scene in front of him. Rather than argue, Steve nodded his head, turned, and left the room.
-
You could hear Tony’s voice in your mind reminding you to stay calm and utilize the element of surprise, but the idea of seeing Bucky again made your adrenaline rush in a way that made it impossible to do anything besides race through the airport. 
Hearing Sam’s voice whispering in the distance, you slid to a stop, your boots skidding against the linoleum floors. Carefully peaking behind the corner, you saw Sam and Bucky standing by the floor to ceiling windows.
Though you could only see his back, your heart began racing in your chest and it took everything in you not to double over and start hyperventilating. He was real. He was alive. He was standing right in front of you. Somehow everything that you had witnessed in your time since waking up from the ice was more plausible than James Barnes being there again. You almost had to convince yourself that it was truly happening.
Recalling the way Natasha had taught you to steady your breathing when you first joined the Avengers, you stood up straight, took a deep breath and stepped forward.
“James?”
Hearing his name roll off of your lips, Bucky almost felt as if he were transported back to before everything occurred- before today, before HYDRA, before the war- when he was just your husband and the worst thing that had ever happened to him was having to leave you.
Though, when he heard your voice again, he was sure that that was the worst out of everything. That would be the end of it. Nothing could compare to the ache he felt seeing you for the last time, and no feeling could compare to the hope from finally hearing your voice once again.
Bucky had known you well enough that he could recognize how you were feeling just by the way that you said his name. Whether you were joyful, blissful, upset... worried.
He recognized your tone from the nights he came home injured and the day he received his draft letter. Now, here, you were worried, though Bucky wasn’t sure if it was for him, or because of him.
Slowly turning around, he was afraid to face you. He couldn’t bare to see the look of fear in your eyes, but being around you gave him a part of himself back- the part of Bucky Barnes that would do anything for you, even if it hurt him.
At first focusing his eyes on the floor, he slowly trailed them up from your feet to finally meet your eyes.
Though he had seen photos of you from recently, it felt strange, almost, to see who you had become in person. He had known your face on your sickest days, had seen your body without the frilly dresses or your hair pinned up, but still, seeing you in a suit similar to Natasha’s was something that held him back- reminded him that the time you two had shared together was in a past far from now.
But despite everything, he still recognized you.
You almost felt glued to your spot, as if there was a black hole at your core, sucking you in from the inside out. You felt the air knocked out of you, staring at your husband as hundreds of memories spilled into the forefront of your mind all at once. Although so much time had passed, you were sure that not a single ounce of love you had for him since your wedding day had slipped away.
“Do you know me?” You asked.
Bucky couldn’t imagine a life where he didn’t know you. Even in the recesses of his mind during his time in HYDRA, he dreamt of your nameless face.
Unable to find it in him to speak, he nodded.
Taking in a deep breath, your bottom lip trembled as you spoke up once more.
“Do... do you remember me?”
Bucky watched as your lip trembled and your eyes glossed over as you asked the question. The way your hands balled into fists at your sides- something you did when you tried to steady yourself in your most stressful circumstances- did not go unnoticed.
Although Buck barely knew himself, he knew you inside and out. He knew when you were happy and more importantly in this moment- when you were hurting. He could tell you were scared for the answer he would give, and that knowledge shattered Bucky Barnes’ heart ten times over.
Although it wasn’t his fault, he felt guilty for ever forgetting you. Although he couldn’t remember your first anniversary or how you threw a surprise party for him on his birthday, he recalled your mannerisms, your compassion and, more importantly, the love he had for you.
Though he had much farther to go, the start was all he needed.
“I never really forgot you.” Bucky said. “I... I remember once they erased my memory just because I said your name. I didn't know who you were or... who I was.. but I still remembered you. Sometimes I’d hear your voice or crave something you used to make...” He smiled sadly. “I couldn’t piece it all together, but I still remembered you, Y/n. I remembered.”
You hadn't thought about how it would move you to hear his voice again or your name rolling off of his tongue. You missed him in so many parts of you- a longing that had been eating away at you all this time- that each moment a piece of you felt renewed. You had been scared that he forgot you, or that the love he had once had for you was lost, but staring at the man in front of you, you couldn’t believe that any of that was true.
And you didn’t want to hold yourself back any longer.
Forcing yourself from your spot, you closed the space between the two of you.
A part of you was scared that he would reject you or push you away, but instead you smiled to yourself as you felt his arms wrap around you and pull you into him tightly.
“I missed you so much.” You said, choking back a sob. “It’s going to be okay, Buck. I’m going to make it okay.”
It took Bucky a moment to accept the fact that you didn’t hate him or blame him- not even a little bit. That the past two years he had spent convincing himself that you hated him were all a figment of his imagination. You missed him, but more importantly you accepted the person he had become. He wasn’t alone- not truly. Without even realizing it he had always had you.
Digging his fingers into the material of your suit, he attempted to bite back his own overwhelming feelings, but the tears at the corners of his eyes and the shake in his voice betrayed him.
“I’m sorry.” He sobbed. “I’m so sorry. For everything I did. That wasn’t me. If you don’t want me-”
Pulling yourself back, you held him at an arm’s distance and gripped his shoulders tightly.
“James Buchanan Barnes,” You said, your voice strong and unwavering despite your tear stained cheeks. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about everything that happened or how much I’ll never forgive myself for not looking harder for you. I could never blame you for what happened, Buck, because it wasn’t your fault, okay? It’s not. But it’s going to be okay, James. We’ll be okay, alright? I love you.”
Moving one of your hands from his shoulder to his cheek, you grazed your thumb against his skin gently.
After decades of being a weapon, feeling such a gentle touch against his skin almost felt foreign, but Buck welcomed it regardless. He would give himself to you whole if you asked because less than a minute in your arms had quickly become the greatest moment of his life.
But, like everything else, it came to a screeching halt.
“Barnes?” Sam asked.
“Yeah?” You and your husband replied simultaneously.
A hint of a smile played on his face at the knowledge that even after all these years, you continued to go by his name- your shared name.
Even if he was truly gone, a part of him would always be alive with you.
Focusing his attention on you, Sam nodded back to the scene outside where the rest of the Avengers were sure to begin their fight in a matter of seconds.
“I’m sorry to interrupt this little reunion,” Sam said. “But you have to make a choice, Barnes. If he doesn't stop you then I will.”
It was a wonder how your life had become so complicated. It had been so simple before- you stood besides those you loved and would give your life for the greater good, but now the lines had become blurred.
“I don’t know what to do.” You admitted defeatedly to the two men stood in front of you. “I just want to help. I don’t know when it got so complicated. They’re talking about killing you guys if we aren’t the ones to bring you in, Buck. I can’t let that happen. I won’t. And I won’t fight you, James, but I don’t know if I can help you. I-”
Bucky felt guilty for the way he had made a mess of your life in the few hours he  found himself back in it, so instead of urging you to take his side, he only leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your forehead.
“I’ll make the choice for you.” 
It felt good to be able to put your life in somebody else’s hands after fighting for so long.
“I have to fight with Steve, doll.” Your husband said, his thumb brushing gently against your temple. “If we don’t, a lot of people are gonna get hurt. After that, I’ll do whatever you want to do. I’ll run. I’ll fight. I’ll let them lock me up. Whatever it is. But right now, you just gotta let me make it right.”
Although you could tell that he was different from the man you had sent off to war seventy years ago, you could also note the parts of Bucky that were steadfast despite the way that everything had changed. He was strong. He was resilient. He cared about you arguably more than anything.
Cupping his face, his stubble scratching the palm of your hands just as you had remembered, you stared up at him steadily.
“Just promise me you’ll come back, okay Barnes?” You asked. “If you leave me stranded again, I just might have to find another husband this time.”
Your husband raised his eyebrows as the corner of his mouth quirked up into a teasing smile.
“Oh yeah?” He said. “You’ve been waiting to use that one?”
You smiled. A real, genuine, stupid smile.
“Mhm.” You replied. “All day. As soon as I found out you were alive, I had it ready.”
Your husband only matched your smile, shaking his head in disbelief before he leaned down and met your lips with his.
When Bucky’s lips felt the touch of yours, he almost felt like a teenager again- anxiously wondering if his lips were chapped or questioning how much pressure was too much or if maybe he went in all wrong and whether you’d offer him a do over. He also felt a rush of adrenaline and a thumping of his heart so hard he was sure it was going to beat out of his chest at the knowledge that he was not just kissing anyone, but kissing you.
Most importantly, out of the many thoughts and feelings running through his mind and body in the moment, he felt renewed. As if everything had fallen back into place. No more worrying. No more fear. No more misery. He was with you. His safe haven, his rock, his partner. James Buchanan Barnes was exactly where he was meant to be as long as you were there beside him and he would find comfort in that for the rest of his life.
When you first attempted to pull away from his lips, Bucky pulled you closer, sneaking in one final kiss: a habit that would remain long after this day because a part of him always feared that it would be the last.
After planting three more kisses against your lips, you smiling underneath them as your lips met in a blissful mess, he finally forced himself to pull away but had his eyes remain locked with yours.
“I promise I’ll come back.” Bucky said. “Can’t have anyone else kissing my girl like that, can I?”
Although he looked different and you knew neither of you could ever truly go back to the people you were more than seventy years before, you felt as though you were back home, looking back at your brother’s charismatic and suave best friend who had had your heart since before you could even remember. 
You could still see the parts of his smile that hadn't been stifled by HYDRA or crushed beneath nearly a century of pain. Just a good, sweet, heart melting ‘Bucky Barnes’ smile that had always made you go weak and rendered you a bumbling mess.
It was almost as though it was made for you and you for him.
Without even realizing it, you felt pressure build behind your eyes as your breath caught in your chest.
His demeanor changed to a concerned one in an instant.
“What’s wrong, doll?”
A laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head.
“Nothing.” You assured him. “I just... I missed you. Missed this.”
Stepping back from you, Bucky allowed himself to truly take in you and the moment the both of you were sharing. He was here. You were here. The both of you had somehow overcome all odds to make it back to each other. Whether through hardships or the test of time, he could always trust in the fact that you would be right there with him until the very end and then some.
Bucky Barnes didn’t often consider himself a religious man, but he had always had faith in you.
Reaching down to gently take your hand in his, the feeling of your fingertips meeting his own palms making his skin raise, he smiled softly at you.
“I promise I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” Bucky said, running his thumb over the delicate skin on the palm of your hand. “Til the end of the line, right?”
Glancing from your husband’s hand in yours to his eyes, through your lashes you smiled softly at him.
“And then some?” You asked.
He smiled and let out a scoff at the mere idea of him ever thinking anything different. 
Bucky leaned forward and your heart raced in your chest just as it did all those years ago on the night he first walked you home and everything changed.
His warm breath brushed against your neck, raising goosebumps as he whispered in your ear.
“And then some.”
When your husband pulled away for the final time, it felt as though a part of you went with him. You wished you had the ability to freeze time- for the two of you to escape your current predicament and allow yourselves to just bask in each other for a second more- but your lives were complicated. However, you found comfort in the fact that if you had found each other once, you would find each other again.
Not able to take his eyes off of you, Bucky faced you as he jogged backwards, Sam’s hand gripping his arm to keep him close by.
“I love you.” You said.
A wide grin painted his face for the first time in seventy years.
“I love you more!”
“I love you most!” You called after him.
“Not possible!” Your husband shouted, his voice echoing throughout the walls of the airport as he got farther and farther away from you. “I love you!”
A smile completely coating your face, you shook your head in admiration of your husband’s love for you. You had been worried that he would be a completely different man than the one you had left back in the forties, but hints of the boy you loved still shone through his rough exterior. You had always brought out the best in each other and if there was ever a time that showed it, it was here and now.
You couldn’t bare to turn your back on him as he jogged away, joining in the fight as always, so you stood there gazing back at him until he left your line of sight. When you could no longer see him- the joy you were feeling may have left your body, but it was only replaced with a different one- the excitement in knowing you would see him again.
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theladyofbloodshed · 7 months
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I see these amazing indepth analysis of themes and characters and motifs in acotar and it saddens me that it just doesn't matter. Like she didn't intend any of that when she was writing those books, it's all accidental, there's no intent there, I'm pretty sure the work I put into developing an au for a fic I'll never write is more than she put into her actual published books.
You look at these characters and their backstories and they're so fucking hollow?? These 500 years old fossils are STILL holding grudges about things that happened 500 years ago? Dude so much happened in only 1-2 years the acotar series is set in, you expect me to believe none of these enemies became friends? No friends became enemies? What did Rhysand do as high lord in 500 years? Why is Keir still alive? Mor and Eris couldn't solve their issues in this time? Cassian still feels worthless because of his childhood, the fuck were his friends doing? Azriel still needs healing and she'll probably try to convince us that it'll happen in the span of one book, something that hasn't happened for 500 years. Why are there still evil generals in charge of Illyrian war camps? 500 years and no progress in women's rights in Illyria ? What about the people living in the Hewn City? You expect me to believe they're all evil? What was the necessity to rule over them with fear or to present this evil image of the night court to the rest of the courts?
There is no actual logical answer to any of these cause no thought was put into any of it and we're all just living in fanon cause the canon is horseshit
I completely agree with you on everything here. In 500 years, the IC have done literally nothing. There's only the odd tidbit from Cassian about monsters and hook ups in his chapters. They've had no other friends. Azriel spent the first decade of his life imprisoned and it's still affecting him over 500 years later but in one book he will magically be better. They have made no allies, no progress, nothing in all that time.
This is one of the issues with immortal characters. They should have more history. Big sigh. These books had so much potential.
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pandoraslove · 2 years
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little violinist
this one is pretty long, but I really like it. It was just something I’ve been thinking about all day. Hope you like it. 
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Warnings: Fluff
Word count: 1761
Being the youngest Shelby has its perks. Apart from being spoiled rotten and you were also very loved. Arthur, Tommy, and John were all in some way a father figure just as much as your older brothers. Arthur was more nurturing, Tommy was more fatherly in the way that he always gave you advice when it came to school or anything other than boys because the lord knows that he’d murder any boy you even showed signs of liking. John knew how to cheer you up in every situation. Ada and Polly were the best when it came to more feminine things like hair, make up, and style. Finn is your partner in crime and best friend, you two are close since you’re only a year apart. 
At the young age of 5, everyone noticed how much you loved music. You’d hum to a song you’d heard and match its pitch with whatever objects you could find. At the age of 6, you stumbled upon a violinist, he was old, well into his 50′s, and playing for money, but the sound he emitted from his instrument was so enticing, you stood and watched him play. You didn’t know how much time had passed as you watched him play, but it was long enough for your family to notice you were no longer with them. They’d found you sitting on the concrete floor, legs criss cross, watching the man play his melodies. 
Thomas got you your first violin a few weeks later, right before all of them left to fight in the war. In those four years, you dedicated almost all your free time to playing the violin. It was your escape, you practiced until your finger were numb and only until you perfected every note would you think about stopping, most of the time you’d still continue. Your music was rarely heard, though, Not by Ada or Polly and not even by Finn. Your music was yours and yours alone. You’d leave in the morning with your violin, carry it around school and practice somewhere secluded after school. Or you’d leave after breakfast on the weekends while Polly was busy with the business. 
When the boys returned from the war, you weren’t able to spend as much time playing and practicing as you’d like. They became more protective than the last time you’d seen them. The first year they were back, after turning 11, you played in front of them for the first time. It was a simple song called ‘Andantino’. It was one of the first songs you tried to learn and succeeded. It was slow and beautiful. It was the first time any of them had heard you play and to say the least they were stunned. You were 11 and playing beautifully. 
That was the only time you’d played for them for a long time. It always made you nervous when others heard you play. you were a little afraid of their judgment. No one ever pushed you to play. When you were 14, you stopped playing for a few months. School was becoming more stressful and it felt like you barely had any time to play. When school ended for the year, you picked your violin back up and worked hard to regain you skill level. You’d go to your Uncle Charlie’s place and go as far out onto the field as you could so no one would hear you play. And if they did it would sound incredibly distant and faint. you tried to maintain the habit even when school started again. 
You ended up graduating high school early, at 16, and began to focus on your violin. It wasn’t strange for your family to not see you for the entire day as you’d spend it out practicing and playing. 
One day, you decided to go back to the market in which the old man with the violin was at. You had little hope you’d find him there but you did. Still playing the violin. You watched and listened to his music. It was just as beautiful as you remembered. He saw you from afar and beaconed you over when he finished his piece. 
“You seem awfully familiar...” He says trying to remember, “The little girl who watched me play for nearly an hour a decade ago?” You smile slightly. 
“Yes...” 
“Did you ever learn to play?” He asks. 
“I did.” He hands his violin to you and gestures for you to play. You took a moment to breathe and decided which song you would be playing. You let your fingers lead you, the memory of each note to lead you. You let everything go and let the music guide you, ‘Gymnopédie No. 1′ was the piece you had decided on playing in that moment. You shut your eyes and played the song by memory, every note was smooth and beautifully played. The music transported you somewhere safe, somewhere warm and comfortable. Once you finished the piece you opened your eyes and found a bigger crowd then the one before watching the man. He was in front of you with an astonished face. 
“That was absolutely beautiful, and all of it by memory... my God, you were born to be a violinists.” He says as you hand him back his violin. 
“I wouldn’t be here, playing the violin, if it weren’t for me hearing your music 10 years ago, I have you to thank.” You say walking away, but not before leaving a pouch with money inside the hat he was using to collect his earnings. 
When you arrived back home you found Thomas, Arthur, John, Ada, Polly, and Finn all in the living room. You were a little happier when you arrived from when you left. 
“I heard you gave quite a show today, Y/n.” Thomas says. You look at him a little shocked he’d found out but held a smile on your face nonetheless. 
“What? Where?” Ada questions. 
“At the market, the old man who was playing the violin 10 years ago still plays there.” You inform them. 
“And he let you play? How did he know you played the violin?” John asks. 
“Yes. And he recognized me. It felt amazing playing for a crowd. I used to be so afraid of playing in front of people, even you guys but after today, It felt so... magical in a way.” you say. 
“maybe you should do it more often then,” Polly says, everyone agrees. 
“Maybe, I should...” You say.
“Why don’t you play at the Garrison?” Arthur says. 
“That’s a great idea, you can play tomorrow night.” Thomas says. 
“The Garrison is a pub, Who the hell goes to a pub to listen to a violinist?” You retort. 
“Tomorrow can be a special event, it’s a great idea come on, Y/n.” Arthur tries to convince you. 
“It’s an awesome opportunity, y/n. You play really fucking well, everyone would love to hear you.” Finn says. 
“And we’ll all be there, so you’ll have more confidence and all our support. you’ll do great.” Ada persuades. 
“So, What do you say, Y/n?” Polly says after a while of you contemplating. 
“...Fine. I’ll do it, if you all promise to be there.” You say at last. 
“Deal.” Thomas says. 
That night you decided on which songs you would play. Some were slow and some were fast, but all were just as beautiful. You decided on playing the song you played earlier that day at the market first, then ‘Andantino’, ‘Concerto for Violin in A minor’, Accolay: Violin Concerto No.1 in A minor, a part of Brahms: Violin Concerto in D minor op. 77, Scottish Fantasy Op. 46 and then finish off with ‘Salut d’amour’. You would only play for an hour, that's the amount of time you all agreed on. 
The next day when you woke up you decide you wanted to get some practice in, so you went to your uncle Charlie’s yard and practiced until each piece was perfected. You’d played each song probably a hundred times since you’d started playing the violin. 
You went home and got ready with Ada and Polly later on. You decided on wearing a simple short sleeve light blue dress that was slightly shorter in the front than in the back. You wore white flat shoes rather than heels. Once you’d fixed your hair and applies a bit of make up, You, Ada, and Polly all walked to the Garrison together, your violin in hand. You were a bit nervous but pushed it all aside. The Garrison wasn’t as rowdy and loud as it usually is. It was more tame. You spotted Thomas, Arthur, John, and Finn seated in a booth. Arthur gesture with his hand for you to go stand on a small platform, While Polly and Ada went to sit with them. You pulled your violin and bow out of the case and stood at the front on the platform Arthur gestured to. Everyone watched as you took a deep breathe, looking towards your family who gave you smiles, encouraging you to start. It didn’t take you long after you started to travel to the place you adored. the place where there was nothing but you and your music. Your cheek rested on the violin, your eyes remained shut and your fingers played the right notes every time. Your eyes were shut but you could see a beautiful field with hundreds if not thousands of flowers, that’s where you were always transported when you played. there was a river not far from where you stood, the sky was a beautiful grey, and the breeze blew on your face. 
You only finally opened your eyes when you finished your final piece, it was quiet for a few seconds and it felt as if time had stopped. you received a standing ovation, even from Thomas, Polly, Ada, Finn, Arthur, and John. You smiled and gave everyone a small bow, then walked to the table your family was seated at. 
“Would you look at that, Our little sister, might as well become a professional, That was amazing.” John says. 
“Thank you, John,” 
“That was absolutely beautiful.” Polly says. 
“Thanks Aunt Pol,” 
By the end of the night, you’d received more compliments than you could handle, it all felt surreal. Maybe you could do this on a real stage in front of thousands one day. Others deserve to feel what you felt when you played, that feeling of everything being healed just by a simple melody. 
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