#‘she did something sacred and she’s still burning?’ and ‘i’m someone who’s done that..part of me (now)....’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drwcn · 3 years

Note

I loved your fem lwj take on things. How would thibgs go if WWX was the lady? Other than ppl assuming she stood up for the Wens bcs she jad feelings for WN ( and that Yuan was hers)

Heyyy friend, I think I’ve seen a couple of girl!wwx fics floating around in ao3 so i certainly won’t be the first :P.

Also I completely misread your ask initially, I thought you were asking me what I think would happen if A-Yuan was WWX’s kid, and I was like oh?? But then I realize wait... I can make it worse.

Today, I decided that my mortal soul doesn’t matter, so here we go. Let’s see how accursed I can make this idea:

[1]

It started with Jiang Cheng. Jiang Wanyin had set out for the Burial Mount with the explicit goal of throttling speaking with Wei Wuxian, but what greeted him at the entrance of the “Demon Subduing Palace” — more of a cave than anything really — was not his martial sister, but Wen Ning. Well, what had once been Wen Ning.

Black veins ran across his pale, ashen face, down his equally ashen neck , and into the major veins beneath his clavicles covered by the collars of his black threadbare robes. Lifeless eyes, white as his skin, stared into a void the living could not see. There were talismans littering his body, and Jiang Cheng knew that when he spoke to this fierce corpse, he was not speaking to the young Wen boy, but to his mistress who controlled him with her demonic cultivation.

Wei Wuxian refused to face him. Refused him explanation. Refused him closure.

“Er-jie!” Jiang Cheng screamed into the stony expressionless face of Wen Qionglin. “If you continue to protect them, then I can’t protect you!!”

There was no response.

Suddenly, just as Jiang Cheng was about to kick and fight his way into the cave, Wen Ning thrusted out his right fist, and in his grasp was a piece of purple silk. Jiang Cheng unfolded the silk, vaguely recognizing that it had been cut from someone’s robe, and saw what was wrapped within was a slip of parchment.

割袍断义*, the paper read. Tell the world that I, Wei Wuxian, first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang has forever defected (Note: 割袍断义- to rip one's robe as a sign of repudiating a sworn brotherhood (idiom)).

With this, there was nothing left to say. Hurt and furious, Jiang Wanyin threw the piece of parchment onto the dirt ground, grinded his heel down on it, and left the Burial Mount without ever having drawn Sandu.

Inside the cave, Wen Qing held Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Why won’t you just tell him? He’s your brother; he can help you, you can —”

Wei Wuxian’s mile long stare seemed to be gazing at something — someone — very far away. Slowly, she placed her other palm over her belly, which horrifically was already starting to round out. “Nobody can help me now, Qing-jie.”

“I can,” said Wen Qing, blunt as ever. “I can make it go away, if you want.”

“No.” A droplet of tear escaped pass long lashes. “No.”

[2]

It continued with Jiang Cheng.

On a snowy night, the first winter after Wei Wuxian escaped with the Wen remnants to the Burial Mount, Jiang Cheng was rudely awakened from his slumber by a less-than-stealthy intruder breaking and entering into his bed chamber.

Zidian whipped through the air, lighting the room with her eerie violet glow, before the intruder could think to take one more step. It was a man, judging from his silhouette colliding against the wall and the pained groan he made in response. The very next second, the tail of Zidian coiled tightly around his neck and dragged him across the floor towards beneath Jiang Cheng’s waiting foot.

The Sect Master of Yunmeng Jiang summoned Sandu, ready to deliver the final strike, but just as his blade sailed towards the intruder’s chest, a pale arm jutted upwards, blocking Sandu’s descent and revealing a pale hand holding a … a...

Even in the dark, Jiang Cheng immediately recognized the mahogany comb.

“Jiang — ! Zongzhu —!” The man croaked out urgently, throat still stomped on by Jiang Cheng’s foot. It was - it was Wen Ning?!

Jiang Cheng looked him over. He was pale, yes, but his eyes appeared human. His hair was brushed and haphazardly done up in a farmer’s top knot. He was wearing farmer’s clothing too, probably more inconspicuous for travel than his Ghost General getup.

“Jiang-zongzhu! P—please!!”

No, impossible.

“Wei — Wei-guniang—”

Jiang Cheng lifted his foot and dragged Wen Ning up in a split second. “What’s wrong with Wei Wuxian?!” Wen Ning coughed and shook his head desperately. “No time to explain. My sister asked me to fetch you. Please, you have to come! Wei-guniang’s life is in danger! If you won’t come, I’ll...I’ll have to go to Gusu, and I don’t know if - if -”

Jiang Cheng followed Wen Ning.

For speed, they travelled by sword, but even so, dawn was breaking by the time they arrived. The crowd of Burial Mount’s villagers huddling anxiously outside of the Demon Subduing Palace parted for them upon their arrival. Jiang Cheng took a moment to gather himself and square his shoulders. Whatever it was; he was ready.

He was wrong. None of the dozens of scenario he had agonized over on the flight here could have prepared him for what awaited him inside.

Wen Qing, pale and drenched in sweat, was near complete spiritual collapse, and without Wen Qing’s spiritual energy sustaining her, the single tenuous thread by which Wei Wuxian’s life hung on would have undoubtedly snapped under the toil and devastation her body had been put through.

There was so much blood, so, so much blood everywhere, and amidst the blood, there was a baby.

Fuck.

Jiang Cheng transfused his sister half of his total spiritual reserve over the course of a day, while an exhausted but unrelenting Wen Qing worked diligently under blood-soaked sheets.

Then at dusk, when the storm finally passed, Jiang Cheng sat at the mouth of the cave with a tiny, perfect little human — a girl, a niece! — in his arms and cursed Lan Wangji’s name.

Wen Qing was extremely clear with them: 孩子要是留在这里，养不活。

If the newborn was left to be raised at the Burial Mount, she would not live. And so, because parting was inevitable from the start, Wei Wuxian adamantly refused to hold or nurse the child. Her child.

I can’t. If I do, I won’t be able to let her go. Those dark eyes burned with more than just the delirium of her childbed fever. For once, Jiang Cheng could not find it in himself to argue.

Thus, he took his niece home and named her Jiang Yan 江曕. The name was not his doing. His foolish, misguided, stubborn sister had stroked her daughter’s soft, baby cheek and whispered it to her as a farewell gift.

Yan - to be bathed in daylight. In the end, when given a choice, Wei Wuxian still opted for her child to walk on broad sunny road.

It made Jiang Cheng wonder why, then, she would choose the dark twisted path for herself instead.

[3]

It ended with Jiang Cheng.

The truth was simple: Jiang Wanyin killed his shijie Wei Wuxian. He did. He meant to.

He killed her. But that did not mean he wanted her dead.

In one day, he had lost both of his sisters, leaving two orphans in their wake. Jiang Cheng could not ignore the cruel irony of their fate: one’s father murdered by his aunt, and other’s mother murdered by her uncle.

This was the kind of tragedy fairytales were made of, and if there were anything left in him to shed tears over it, he would. Standing amongst Nevernight’s carnage, he could not dredge up even a single drop of tear.

Jiang Cheng didn’t know how he could return home to Lotus Pier to face that cherub face, always so happy, so sweet, so utterly untainted by the world. She had her mother’s smile. Yan'er was starting to learn how to speak. Her first words were da-da.

Da-da. Die-die. Father.

He was standing beside her father now.

Lan Wangji. Devastated. Destroyed. …Deceived.

Jiang Cheng hated him so much, so fucking much that for one insane second, he thought about telling Lan Wangji the truth just to see what would happen. Maybe he would run Jiang Cheng through with his Bichen - that would be a relief now, wouldn’t it? - or maybe he would jump after Wei Wuxian.

Truly, if he knew, he would. Jump, that is. Jiang Cheng was almost entirely sure. Oh the utter melodrama that would inspire indeed!

But then...

Wei Ying birthed you a daughter, a lovely, perfect, blessed little girl, and she carried that secret to her grave. I may be damned by my actions, but you, who have done nothing for her and taken everything, why should you deserve something as sacred as the truth?

Jiang Cheng turned away.

He was acutely aware that one day Jiang Yan may very well be the literal death of him. After all — 杀母之仇不共戴天 — one cannot tolerate living under the same sky as the murderer of one’s mother.

Be that as it may, he would raise Jiang Yan well, just as he promised. Unlike his sister, he would not break his word. Jiang Yan was of Lotus Pier, of Yunmeng, like her mother and grandfather before her. That for him, was enough.

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu and gripped Zidian. Whatever his fate, he already made peace with it, and the rest was inconsequential.

One day, he may die, but today he lives, and so as long as he lives, Jiang Yan and all of Yunmeng Jiang will be protected . So as long as he lives, they will flourish.

[...and in between]

On the streets of Yiling, Lan Wangji tilted his head inquisitively at Wei Wuxian and the little boy at her side and asked, “This child, he...”

In response, Wei Wuxian patted her chest in a self-declarative kind of way and announced, “Oh this child, I birthed him!”

He stared at her in shell-shocked silence, his mind racing with panicked thoughts of but that’s impossible — that was just once — even if — the boy is too old to be —

“怎么，蓝湛，不要我们娘儿俩了？” What, Lan Zhan, you don’t want the child and I?

“Wei— Wei Ying—”

Then of course, she had laughed, and Lan Wangji thought no more of it.

Just a joke. A silly joke.

In time, he would come to realize his mistake.

~~~

[A/N]: I’m not even a little bit sorry.

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rpd-rookie · 3 years

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HOLIDAYS - LEON S. KENNEDY X FEM!READER (PART 2)

Summary: Leon meets Y/N again and let's say she isn't done playing with him. You don't mind company in your hot tub, do you Leon?

Author’s note: Sorry about the long wait. I know it's been a while since I haven't updated this fanfic or posted a RE fan fiction. I was busy with work and writing for other fandoms. Hope you'll forgive me and that you'll like this chapter.

Tags: NSFW / Flirting / Slow Burn / Teasing / Seduction / Roleplay / Hand Jobs / Slight Angst / Explicit Sexual Content

(Part 1)

PART 2: The Game

Men are foolish to believe they have no weakness. All men have weaknesses. And even if Leon wanted desperately alcohol to be his only one, he had to admit there was another. One more pleasant and yet sometimes as hurtful and as destructive. Women. Sultry strong women. Those who steal your heart, toy with it like a cat plays with a mouse, crush it with their sharp stilettos to finally throw it back at you without an ounce of remorse or sympathy. How many times he had fallen for those women! How many times he had hurt himself! … And asked for more.

There was possibly something rather addictive, something even rather masochist in doing so. And the fact that he was aware of it showed how stupid he truly could be.

It was a lovely night, slightly cold but starry. The fresh marine wind was blowing softly in the trees and the bursting bubbles of the hot tub massaging his tensed muscles were filling Leon’s ears with a peaceful melody he would gladly listen to for hours. Eyes closed, he could almost imagine what it truly meant to be on holidays, what it truly meant to relax, to forget. Almost. The truth was he could not escape Raccoon City … as he could not escape Spain, or Tall Oaks or any other place he had been, any other place he had survived, any other place he had lost. They always knew how to creep into his brain, always knew how to tie his stomach in a knot, how to make his heart heavy, sometimes –often- in moments when he was the most eager for peace of mind. They were doing it right now. They had been doing it for quite some time now. Since the bombing in DC or maybe before.

“You almost make brooding look hot, you know?” Leon immediately jumped and turned around, startled by the cheerful voice pulling him out of his dark ominous thoughts. A reflex he had acquired and sharpened over the years fighting deadly BOWs. But when his blue eyes lay on Y/N (or Y/SN; He didn’t really know how he should call her), he relaxed and allowed his tightened lips to slightly curl into a weak but sincere smile. “Years of practice.” “Then that explained the wrinkles on your forehead.” She approached him soundlessly, leaving the shadows in which she had been watching him, and squinted at his face, possibly trying to detail all the little aging signs carving his skin. “Is that why you’re wearing a fringe?” “It’s not a fringe!” He replied rather offended and yet perfectly aware that she was merely teasing him the same way she had teased him in that bar a couple nights ago. But his hair was sacred! And he hated when someone was making fun of it. Too bad his little attempt at sounding aggressive only made Y/N laugh and want to mock him a little bit more. Just for fun. “Well, it looks like a fringe… An emo fringe.” Leon frowned and without realising it brushed his hair aside with an annoyed pout the woman found just adorable. “Wow. You’ve got two eyes. Who would have thought?” “Are you done?” She chuckled, eyes shining with mischief as she sat on the edge of the hot tub, legs crossed so as to deliberately show her bare smooth thighs no longer hidden under the white hotel robe she was wearing. Leon couldn’t help but gaze for a second or two, suddenly wondering how that beautiful skin would feel against his calloused fingers, around his waist. Probably amazing. Electrifying. Damn she was good! He thought. Pulling him out of his traumatising memories to throw him deep into a well of lust. Not many women could do that. And it was annoying as much as it was endearing. “Would you like me to keep you company in there?” She offered in a voice that could not disguise the lewd seconds thoughts she had in her mind. But then again, disguising them wasn’t what she wanted. And they were both adult and experienced enough to know that a woman offering to join you in a tub wasn’t doing it to have a chat about the weather. And that was fine. Leon could use some distraction right now. “Depends. Will you keep taunting me?” He questioned trying to resist her a little bit longer even though, for some weird reasons, watching her fingertips touch the bubbling hot water and softly caress the surface was making him suddenly aching. It was as if he wanted his skin to be the water, as if all the things she was doing –even the one that should be innocent- were purely sensual … sexual even. Whether it was always fully voluntary of not, Leon wasn’t sure. But damn, she was surely making her way under his skin. “Well you have to admit my little taunt got your mind of whatever you were thinking about.” She smiled and brought her fingers to wet her neck as she discreetly and proudly peeped at Leon who was observing the droplets running down her skin with dilated pupils. “You’re cleverer than what you let on.” He admitted. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re playing with me or if you’re just flirting.” “Why not both?” Her fingers fell to the collar of her robe to slowly brush the soft fabric off her shoulders, revealing more burning naked skin that made Leon briefly fidget under the water. Was he that touch-starved? “Why not something else?” Could she hear his erratic heartbeat in his chest? His brain screaming at him just to grab her and pull her in his laps? See all his attempts at keeping his cool slowly crumbling to let the obscene fire growing in his loins take over? Her mocking smile made Leon think she probably could. “And what would that something else be?” He asked, curious.

He watched her take a step back. And unconsciously, he leant closer. Like a magnet. Not willing to be left alone or to let her go. And miraculously, unlike many women before her, she didn’t leave. She simply stood where she was and brought her hands to the belt around her waist. “What do you what it to be?” And Leon stared; hypnotized again by her enticing moves he wished were quicker. “Or better question. What do you want me to be?” She unknotted the belt and let her fingers crawl back to the collar of the robe to open it slowly. The mere sight of her décolletage made Leon gulp and suddenly all his tries to keep his eyes on her beautiful face became vain as they always found their way back between her breasts. “A college student with daddy issues …” She opened the robe wider, showing more of her skin “…who’s eager to spread her legs for a married man who lost wife, kids and beagle to his best friend? Or…” more of her breasts, her rosy nipples, her belly, offering a glimpse of her young body “A very naked young woman seducing an old –clearly naked as well- emo boy in a hot tub?” The robe wasn’t covering anything that should have been covered anymore. Leon could see everything, everything enough for his cock to harden under the water and for him to thank for the bubbles hiding his arousal. “Is that what you really are?” She entered the hot tub, towering him like a naked Venus calling to be touched. And god knows how hard it was for Leon not to touch her or to stop thinking about pressing his face against her womanhood. “That looks like what I am right now. Don’t you think?” She let herself slowly sink in the water, not taking her eyes out of him. “And that looks like something you like.” She purred and when Leon thought that she would sit on him, straddle his legs and finally feel his aching member against her… “Only a fool would not like it.” “And you’re not a fool … Leon.” … He froze.

Leon’s eyes widened. Did he hear that right? “What did you just call me?” His tone, though tinted with surprise, had recovered its seriousness and gravitas. But it didn’t seem to unsettle the young woman before him who was still keeping her aura of sensual cheekiness. “Isn’t that your name?” Leon frowned, wondering how she knew and what the hell her intentions were. “You know it’s hard to pretend to be someone else when your name and photo was shown on national TV barely a week ago. Leon S. Kennedy the national hero who saved America from bioterrorism yet again.” “ So you knew all along?” “ I call it naked truth.” She smiled proudly and he couldn’t help but laugh a little at the pun. “What? You said it yourself, I’m cleverer than what I let on.” “ So this little game … What was it for?” “ We can continue if that’s what you want.” She came closer to him, (colour) eyes staring deep in Leon’s own. “ Cause we haven’t stopped playing?” “ Well, I’m still playing.” She put a hand on his sculpted pectorals.

The contact, warm and delicate, made Leon slightly shiver and he looked at her palm slowly going down his firm chest, caressing his skin down to his carved abs, following the line of hairs below his navel until it finally reached his still hard sex “And with what I’m feeling right there. It looks like you can still play with a little help.” He winced as he felt her delicately grab his shaft. “ You’re impossible.” He managed to say between gritted teeth. “ I know. You told me last time... You want me to stop?” She murmured in his ear, her hot breath tickling him in a pleasant way. “I didn’t say that.” His eyes found her face again but only for a short while. Soon they focused on her lips, now so close to his. “Good.”

For an instant he thought she would kiss him to eventually put an end to that game of theirs. That would have been the perfect occasion for them to finally let go to their most primal impulses. But she did not. Instead, she remained the way she was, her face a couple inches away from his, her parted lips so close to touch his and her eyes locked with his. Perfectly in control and taking an excruciating delight in watching Leon lose his composure as her hand was slowly toying with his manhood under the bubbling water. “I think you needed that.” “ You have no idea.” A guttural moan escaped the barrier of his lips and his stomach tensed. Leon could feel his member throbbing in the girl’s grip. He was close already and not even slightly ashamed about it. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it? For him to crumble under her touch. And maybe that was what he wanted too now that he was thinking about it. He closed in blue eyes to focus only on her, on her touch, on her hand, moving up and down in cock, again and again, on her fingers, sometimes caressing the tip, sometimes tracing the prominent veins of his shaft, slowly, oh so slowly. A pleasuring torture he almost wished would be never-ending. “ You know, if you want me to fuck you, you should stop with that amazing hand of yours and quickly climb on top of me.” She chuckled at the sudden dirty talk and surge of confidence, happy to finally see him that way. But as his hands grabbed her hips to bring her in his laps she purred “As much as I would love this, we still have more games to play, Agent Kennedy."

Leon's eyes opened in a flash. Flabbergasted, he felt an atrocious void and a terrible discomfort when, completely powerless, he watched the girl stand up and leave him with nothing less but a smile and a wink. But as much as he wanted to be vexed or resentful, he couldn't help but laugh, thankful that somehow she had managed to take his nightmares away for the night. Sure he had blue balls but those were the best blue balls of his life. " We sure do, Y/N"

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil fanfic

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mybunnyparadenme · 3 years

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Ah wow so cool to have found you on Tumblr! I'm a big fan of your fic :) For the Bunny chart post, it would be so cool to see a Princess Kenny/Marjorine fic, maybe with Marj as her lady in waiting or something? ^-^

Hhhhhh thank you, I'm so flattered! /)///w///(\ Glad you found my blog too! Here's the fic, THANK YOU for requesting the girls!! I hope that you don't mind it's super angsty! ^^;

D2 - Marjorine/Princess Kenny

Princess Kenny had to be the most beautiful girl at the ball tonight.

Of course Kenny's always the most beautiful girl regardless, Marjorine thought to herself as she watched her dear friend dance with a dark haired prince from a far off kingdom. How couldn't she be? Her golden hair was done up in an intricate braid, exposing her slender neck and pale shoulders, and the lilac of her dress highlighted her gorgeous eyes, making her look like a goddess in human form. Marjorine felt pride color her cheeks, knowing that she'd had a hand in her appearance. She'd spent ages running a brush through that long hair until it gleamed in the light, plaiting it carefully so not a single strand fell out of place. And her hard work had definitely paid off, Kenny had been dancing all night and she still looked as immaculate as when they'd arrived.

At least until the awful foreign prince reached up and carelessly ran his fingers through her hair, tugging at her braid and leaving several strands loose in his wake. He looked smug as he curled her hair around his finger, and Marjorine was ready to stomp over there and tell him off for being so rough with her princess, but before she could even take the first step, Kenny had that same finger bent backwards and was whispering something into his ear. Something harsh, given the worry in the prince's pain-laced expression. The exchange only lasted for a moment, and then Kenny gave him a sweet smile as she curtsied goodbye. Almost immediately, she was in the arms of a new dance partner, the handsome Elf King of Zaron.

Marjorine let herself relax again. The elf was known for being well-mannered, no doubt he would treat Kenny with the respect she deserved. She watched the two of them dance with a smile on her face, though it quickly became strained when she saw Kenny throw her head back and laugh at something he'd said to her. They seemed to be hitting it off very nicely, and... and that was a good thing! They were at this ball to scope out potential suitors after all, the goal was to find someone she could not only get along with, but rule a kingdom with. This was a good thing, wasn't it? So why did the air suddenly feel like it was too heavy to breathe? She quickly turned from the dance floor and made her way over to the open balcony several feet away.

I could use some fresh air, she told herself. That was all she needed, and then everything would be fine.

The cool breeze felt good against her heated cheeks, a definite relief from the stuffy air in the ballroom. Marjorine tilted her head up to marvel at the beautiful moon overhead, so full and big it looked like she could reach up and touch it with her fingertips. But as she lifted her hand and clutched at empty space, she felt her heart sink at the realization that the distance between her and the moon was similar to the one between her and the princess she loved so much. Marjorine was proud to be Kenny's lady in waiting, her confidante, but that was all she would ever be. A selfish part of her was hoping that tonight would be a bust, that Kenny would turn her nose up at all the people vying for her attention, and it could just be the two of them for a little while longer... but Kenny had a whole country to think about, and what was one girl in the face of a kingdom? She would just have to be content with the hand she'd been given.

"There you are, Marji!" A soft, elegant voice called, moments before a pair of arms wrapped themselves around Marjorine's waist.

"Y-Your highness!" Marjorine cried, stiffening for a moment before her body relaxed in the familiar embrace. Her worries always melted away when Kenny was holding her. "What are you doing out here?"

"Looking for you of course." Kenny whispered in her ear, her lips lingering just long enough to make Marjorine shiver. "It was getting so dull in there without you."

Marjorine shifted so that they were face to face, her arms coming up to loop behind Kenny's neck. It wasn't proper to show this much affection in such a public place, but after seeing so many pairs of hands around the girl she loved, Marjorine couldn't deny herself this moment of comfort between them. Still, duty demanded that she say, "We should head back inside, they'll notice you missing soon."

"I'd rather be out here with you, though." Kenny murmured. She knocked their foreheads together, looking into the other girl's eyes with an intensity that made Marjorine shiver. Her eyes were the color of lavender, but there was nothing calming about her gaze. "Can't we stay out here a little while longer, my dear?"

They both knew she couldn't deny her princess anything, especially not when she used such sweet endearments. She swallowed hard and nodded, trailing her hands over her shoulders (oh, they were so achingly smooth) and down her arms until their fingers were interlocked. "Of course, Kenny. Anything you want."

Seeing her smile was almost a punishment, so radiant it nearly left her blinded. "I want to dance with you, Marjorine."

And then they were swaying as soft music drifted out into the balcony, dreamy and beautiful and so perfect Marjorine had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from tearing up. They weren't dancing formally, the way Kenny had been taught all her life with steps to memorize and rules to follow. This was a dance they'd done hundreds of times, in the middle of the night when they weren't tired enough to sleep or after a boring meeting to let off some steam. It was a dance all their own, intimate and sacred and meant only for the two of them, Kenny taking the lead because that was what she was meant to do. Marjorine was the only one allowed to see this side of her, the girl who could rule a kingdom all on her own without a king by her side. But there were laws, and expectations being placed on those delicate shoulders, and they could only pretend for so long before they'd have to go back and face reality.

But they still had this moment, right now.

Kenny danced them into the far side of the balcony, out of view of the rest of the ball room. Marjorine could feel the cold stone wall against the fabric of her dress, but it didn't compare to the warmth coming from Kenny's body pressed flush against her own. Their lips were only inches apart, but she was distracted by the loose strand of hair that the awful prince had loosened from Kenny's braid. She reached up to tuck it behind her ear, but Kenny caught her hand and pressed a gentle kiss against her work-roughened knuckles.

Marjorine gasped and felt her cheeks burn. "Y-Your highness, you-"

"Kenny." She murmured into her skin, turning her hand to kiss the inside of her wrist. "Not 'your highness' or 'princess' when it's just the two of us. Use my name."

"Kenny." Marjorine breathed, shuddering as Kenny's lips trailed higher, until they were on her neck, her chin, her cheeks. "Kenny, my Kenny... m-my..."

"Just yours, Marji." Kenny whispered, and then their lips met and there were no more words spoken. If Kenny tasted the salt in their kiss, she didn't say, but her mouth worked feverishly against Marjorine's as if she could counter it with the sweetness of her tongue, and make up for the fact that moments like these would soon be fleeting at best.

And nonexistent at worst.

#south park #sp bunny #butters stotch #kenny mccormick #bunny sp #my fics #south park fic #south park is my favorite yuri anime :')#i've outlined the other two requests so hopefully (fingers crossed!) they'll be out later tonight or tomorrow morning :)

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collecting-stories · 4 years

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Tears Won’t Cry - c. 07 - JJ Maybank

Summary: You and JJ have sex for the first time and you hear something you’d rather not.

A/N: This chapter clocks in at a whopping 5.8k...I took some serious time with it so I hope you guys like it and, as always, thank you for reading.

You Are Ok Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✞ We’ll borrow happiness just for the night ✞

The more you thought about JJ’s offer the more tempting it seemed. Doing chores around the house, cooking, doing lessons, practicing piano for church, it didn’t matter what you were doing, that little voice in the back of your mind crept in, telling you that going with JJ would be the ultimate freedom. You wouldn’t have anyone telling you what to wear or who to talk to or what to do.

Your mom would tell you that was the voice of the ‘enemy’, the great evil that had turned Eve from god and caused immeasurable destruction. Every time the outside world came a little too close to the bubble your parents had created your mom claimed it was the work of the devil, persecuting her for her beliefs.

And didn’t Jesus spend forty days and forty nights in the desert resisting temptation from the very same devil? Hadn’t you been brought up in the church, taught the way of the Lord and encouraged, every day to resist those temptations that threatened your way of life? But here you were, spending every waking moment consumed with the idea of JJ. Maybe Jesus had survived out there but you were sure you couldn’t, not having been with JJ the way you had.

The one cardinal sin of your family, maybe more than anything else, was premarital intimacy. Sex was supposedly only good if you were married and then only intended for reproduction or for pleasing a husband. It was, according to both your parents, the most sacred part of yourself that you could give away. And even with the amount of thought you had given it, the careful consideration of your feelings and your future, you imagined burning in a holy fire or turning to salt like Lot’s wife were the only options left for you if you ever told them that you had given that part of yourself to JJ.

You had mulled over the decision for three nights, had even considered praying about it though you were sure that wasn’t the sort of prayer you addressed to God, but on the fourth night you were certain. Sitting there on the non-bunk bed in your room, listening to the sound of the faucet running as JJ brushed his teeth. You knew nothing about flirting techniques or subtle seduction...you really didn’t know anything about sex at all. Your approach so far, with every part of your relationship with JJ, had just been straightforward.

So, you were straightforward again. When JJ came out of the bathroom, shutting off the hall light and leaving your door slightly cracked the way you had told him you liked it to be, you sat up more against the head board, “I think I’m ready.”

“For?”

“For...us to have sex.” You stumbled over the words, sounding less sure out loud than you were in your head. You knew this was what you wanted; JJ was what you wanted. Even if you loved someone else someday down the line you wanted this moment to belong to the two of you.

“Right now?” JJ asked, hand still on the door knob.

“Well. I don’t really know how to initiate sex so…whatever you usually do.” You replied shrugging your shoulders.

JJ let the door stay open, leaving it to cross the room and sit down on the side of the bed. You moved closer to him, sitting sideways and letting one leg hanging over the edge, toes brushing the cold hard wood as you stared at each other. Maybe that was all that would happen, you would stare for a while, both too unsure to make the next move, until finally just resigning yourselves to sleep. JJ had always been confident in bed but this was different, everything about it felt like he was treading in uncharted territory, emotionally there was no way back from this once he jumped off the cliff.

He brought his hand up to your cheek like he’d done a thousand times before, leaning forward to kiss you. He could taste the floral chapstick you had on, a little tacky against his own lips as his tongue ran across your bottom lip. You had kissed before, made out with him pretty heavily, and though you still felt timid about somethings you tried to push that aside, shifting closer to him while breaking the kiss, biting his bottom lip as you did, JJ’s eyes opening for a second in surprise. The surprise gave way to pleasure as you kissed his neck, nudging the collar of his shirt out of the way with your nose in an attempt to access more skin.

“Here,” Eager to witness you in charge of this moment, JJ broke away to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it across the room. You smiled, a quick kiss to his lips before you were back to his neck and shoulders, the skin there tan and freckled from the sun. JJ hooked his hand under your thigh, pulling you toward him until you got the idea, hooking an arm around him for stability as you straddled his lap.

You resumed your work, alternating between leaving light kisses over the freckles on his shoulders and bruising the skin around his collar, gentle first and then eager and insatiable. Your other hand rested against his abs and you could feel his breaths under your touch, heavy and impatient. You were too afraid to ask him if anything you were doing felt good because you were afraid it didn’t. You knew you couldn’t kiss him forever but you would’ve been happy too, his skin was warm and when you scraped your teeth against his collar the moan he let out sounded heavenly. You could’ve listened to him for an eternity.

JJ caught your face in his hands, kissing you again and then leaning his forehead against yours. He liked you in control but right then, “can I?” He asked, one hand going to the hem of the shirt you were wearing for bed.

“Yeah,” you weren’t entirely sure how to proceed anyway, you were happy to let him lead. Before he could pull the shirt off, you let your leg drop off the bed, finding solid ground and stepping backward off his lap. JJ pouted, grabbing at you but you backed out of his reach. You gripped the hem of your shirt, keeping eye contact with JJ as you lifted it over your head, dropping it down by your feet.

You had imagined plenty of times that the first time you would ever undress in front of a guy it would be on your wedding night and it would be a dress that they were unzipping you from. Instead, it was an old gray t-shirt with a pun about Jesus on the front that your brother Robert had gotten at a youth retreat. Nothing special by far. But JJ looked at you like you hung the stars. He reached his hand out, grabbing yours and pulling you back to the bed. He stood you between his legs, hands on your hips.

“You alright?” JJ asked, looking up at you and smiling, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips. He was sitting there, staring at you almost entirely naked, standing in front of him and he felt like his mouth had gone dry. Frozen in some form as just the person who gets to look and he knew what a momentous thing that was for you. Just to let him see you this way.

You nodded, resting one hand on his shoulder, the other cupping his cheek and he turned his face into your palm to kiss you. The confirmation that you were okay and that the look in your eye was one of complete desire and love was the only motivation that JJ needed, pulling you into his lap again, his hands running up to your waist to hold you as he brought both of you further onto the bed.

In the prelude to sex JJ had plenty of opening lines, commentary on how hot a girl was or how she made him feel but as you kissed him again, twisting off his lap so your back was on the bed and you guide him on top of you, it all felt indescribable. JJ settled for an “I love you,” whispered into your skin as he pressed his lips to your collar, one hand moving up the expanse of your stomach while the other held him over you.

“I love you too,” your response sounded breathless, a result of JJ’s trail of kisses down to your chest. His right hand groped your right breast, thumbing brushing over your nipple repeatedly as his mouth closed the other one, pressing his tongue flat against it. The sensation was enough to have you squirm under him, tensing slightly, biting down on your lip as you griped the shorter hairs at the back of his head.

He pulled away, the cool area of the room chilling you as he switched his concentration, kissing just below your breast before his mouth to the other, hand moving to hold your side as you moaned at the feeling of his mouth on you. “Your so sensitive,” JJ commented, tone conveying the awe he felt as he continued to lavish your breasts with attention.

JJ kissed you like it was an art form, like you were something delicate and he wanted to take his time to savor every part of you. His mouth moved across your stomach, kissing parts of you that you harbored insecurities about. He stopped his appreciation of your body when he reached your underwear, resting his chin on your stomach as he looked up at you. Waiting. He’d moved himself almost off the bed, halfway to a kneel your legs hanging off the bed on either side of him. You pushed yourself onto your elbows, looking down at him as he smiled at you.

“This is what you want?” He had to be sure, wanted to hear you tell him you wanted him as much as you trusted him, as much as you loved him.

“Yes.” You felt the rush of a chill down your spine as JJ kissed the inside of your right thigh, his fingers slipping around the hem of your underwear to pull them down. Nothing spectacular, in fact-

“It’s not Thursday,” JJ laughed, reading the printed text on the front of your underwear. A gift four years ago, you still retained half the collection.

“Saturday sort of, got ruined by an early period.” You laughed, lifting your head up again, “is there usually this much talking during sex?”

“Shush,” JJ teased, nipping at the sensitive skin below your stomach. Though he didn’t say it then, any girl he’d been with before had kept themselves some level of shaved but you had obviously never felt the need to. It was no real difference to him, or so he discovered as he kissed the insides of your thighs again. As he did he pushed your legs a little further apart slating them on either side of his shoulders. You were still propped up on your elbows, watching him in fascination. No one, yourself included, had ever touched you like JJ was.

The most comprehensive sex education had skimmed over details of actual sex, promising that your future husband would know your body well enough to teach you about it on your wedding night. If Timothy had even crossed your mind while this was happening, you certainly wouldn’t have drawn any conclusions to him being this skilled.

You moaned unexpectedly, surprise laced with something else, something far more primal as JJ parted your lower lips, middle finger gently running up your slit, coating it in pre-cum, ghosting a circle around your clit. Your right thigh brushed his arm and moved onto his shoulder as the minute sensation had you trying to close your legs. JJ leaned his head against the same thigh, turning just enough that he could brush a kiss against your skin.

“I got you.” He promised.

As he continued, thumb brushing over your clit as he worked in slow circles, savouring the moment, hyper aware of every twitch, moan, or movement of your body, you fell back off your elbows. You laid flat on your back, hands gripping at sheets as JJ fingered you. He picked up the pace of his thumb, pressing a little harder as he did, his middle finger slipping back into your entrance, the movement slow but still making you jerk slightly, pressing your heel into his back.

“It’s okay,” JJ shushed, kissing you leg down to the apex of your thigh, “your okay.”

You hummed in response, in no position to use any actual words. He slipped his middle finger further inside, slowly letting you adjust to the feeling. JJ had never been this careful during sex but couldn’t deny that it was arousing in itself, taking his time, focused solely on the way you felt and not some endgame-moment-of-ecstasy. He added another finger and you squeezed your eyes shut, tensing at the feeling for a split second but it left just as quickly as it came.

JJ was off his knees, hovering over you, kissing your nose and then your mouth. “It’s okay,” he promised, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you were already breathing heavy, eyes fluttering open just enough to look at him. JJ’s expression softened as he moved again, hooking an arm around around you and helping you sit up, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Not tonight?” He asked, before you could even form the words. He climbed onto the bed more so he could sit you in his lap, grabbing his discarded shirt and pulling it over your head as you caved into him.

“I thought I was ready.” You admitted, wrapping your arms around him, “I just-“

“It doesn’t have to be right now…it doesn’t even have to be soon. Whenever you’re ready.” JJ replied.

“Yeah but what about you?”

JJ shrugged, “I’d be happy with whatever you’re willing to give me.” He admitted, “it’s not…I mean you said yourself, sex is something really important to you and, I like having sex but it’s not like that for me so…I can wait. I’m not going anywhere. You should feel like it’s what you want it to be.”

“Can we just lay here for a while?” You asked, shifting so you could move up the bed to get beneath the covers. JJ followed suit, letting you get between him and the wall.

With the covers up around the both of you, JJ laid on his side, head propped propped on one hand while you held the other, fingers twirling the bracelets on his wrist. A familiar one stood out, buried under intricately knotted friendship bracelets, the neon green peeking through. You pulled at it, revealing the black ichthus that was stitched onto the cheap plastic thread.

“This is mine?” You almost laughed, holding his hand closer to your face to get a better look.

“I know,” JJ admitted, “I stole it the first night you let me in your room. I saw it on the desk and took it.”

“I’m not sure a WWJD bracelet is something you would need to consult on a daily basis.” You said. Of all the non-Christian people you had encountered in your seventeen years, JJ was the furthest from the church you could think of.

“Why, what does it mean?” He asked, pressing his nose against your jaw, kissing the underside of your chin.

“What Would Jesus Do.”

“See,” he teased, “I thought it meant ‘what would JJ do’.”

“I think that would be WWJJD and no one would want to take that advice.” You replied, letting go of his hand to pull him into a kiss.

JJ hovered over you as you deepened the kiss, one hand at the back of his head, keeping him close as you imitated his earlier actions, tongue running across his bottom lip. You grabbed his free hand, resting on your hip, and dragged it up, pushing it under your shirt and onto your stomach.

“Can we see where this goes?” You asked, pulling away enough to look in his eyes.

“Anything you want.” He promised.

JJ’s movements were as slow as they had been last time, concealed now by the blanket that was over the two of you. He stayed close, where you could see him, kissing your neck, collar, face, lips, as he slipped his fingers into your still slick entrance.

You moved your hands down to the waistband of his shorts. He’d changed into a pair of basketball shorts to sleep in, easier access than the cargo shorts he had on earlier. When your hand slipped past his waistband he pressed his face into your neck, his fingers stilling for a moment inside you.

“I should tell you, I have no idea what I’m doing,” you mentioned, voice still breathless.

JJ was tempted to tell you that it wouldn’t take much for him to lose it. “You don’t have to do anything,” he replied, kissing your throat.

“I’ve never actually seen…” you trailed off, flustered at the thought. “I mean, in a textbook.”

“This is the hottest pre-sex talk ever,” JJ teased, enjoying the way your breath hitched when he pulled his fingers out again, “someday, I’m gonna make you cum.” He said.

Your eyes widened as he licked his fingers, smiling at you as he sucked them clean. JJ flopped down next to you, pushing his shorts down without any care in the world. You covered your eyes with your hands on instinct almost and JJ laughed, grabbing your wrists and pulling your hands down to his mouth so he could kiss your palms.

“Come here.” He instructed, guiding you to straddle him, watching as you sat over his thighs. “Let me show you?”

This, JJ decided as you wrapped your hand around his cock, thumb smearing pre-cum at the tip, was arguably the hottest thing he’d ever done in his life. He closes his hand over yours, guiding you as you stroke him, your eyes focused on the way his body responded to you. JJ’s chest and face were flushed red from arousal, his own eyes trained on you as he tried to keep his control over the situation. He didn’t want to spook you again, wanted to keep you comfortable. He had never been one to tap out early when it came to sex but he wasn’t sure how long he would truly be able to last. The condom that he’d found in his backpack after you told him you wanted to have sex and he went digging sat on your bedside table and he reached for it now.

When he was sure you were ready, he moved your hands to his stomach, telling you to brace yourself on him. You followed his lead as you sat up onto your knees, one of his hands gripping your waist as he guided you down on his cock, the stretch of your walls around him lessened from the angle. You moaned at the feeling of him, short breaths filling the air as you gripped his sides.

“Fuck.” You whispered the curse word, only the second time you’d ever said it though for a reason just as fitting as the first. You couldn’t think of many others that could’ve described the feeling you were experiencing.

There were a million things JJ wanted to say as he stared up at you, a thousand emotions pressing against his chest, each more in love with you than the last. He would’ve frozen this exact moment if he could’ve, just stayed like this for an eternity because how was he supposed to see you get engaged to someone else after this. Before he could get too in his head you shifted your weight forward, rolling your hips and lifting yourself up just enough that when you came back down, walls clenching around him, JJ’s hips jerked up and his hands gripped your hips tighter, fingers digging into your skin.

“Shit, holy shit.” He muttered, coaxing you to repeat the motion. You steadied yourself with your hands on his chest, rolling your hips again. “Just like that.” The third time you tried it JJ’s grip didn’t let up, instead he took the lead, picking up your pace for you. Once you seemed to catch up to the rythmn of his movements, trying your best not to overthink anything and just focus on him, JJ dropped one of his hands. You jerked at the feeling of his fingers pushing passed your folds, thumb finding your clit again and rubbing against it.

“Oh my god, JJ,” you moaned at the feeling of him overtaking your senses, your stomach tightening as he thrust his hips up to meet you, almost falling out of the rythmn he’d been keeping as you crested, orgasming first. Loud and panting, your hand slipped and you almost collapsed on him, the shifting angle and the way you clenched around him sending him over that edge with you.

It hadn’t felt anything but natural when it happened and with anyone else you didn’t think you would’ve felt as comfortable with yourself as he made you feel. JJ didn’t rush, he wasn’t impatient or self-serving. You’d read once, in a book you read sequestered in the library away from any eyes that might recognize you, about a rather steamy romance. The book was trash but you remembered that feeling of utter confusion as you read and re-read the line about feeling ‘worshipped’. How could any one person worship another?

The question answered itself in the way that JJ held you in the afterglow. And the pure, unadulterated bliss he felt when you placed kisses along his jaw, punctuating them with reminders of how much you loved him. He’d stayed with you those four days and at the Chateau before that, only a minute bruise near his hip still evident from the last time he was home and when you asked about it he claimed it was a surfing injury.

“She loves you,” Kiara had argued when he told her that he had no intention of telling you about his father. He could see, in a way, why your parents wanted to shelter you. They were just trying to keep you safe, to shield you from all the unsavory parts of life and he, in that same way, for that same reason, couldn’t bring himself to tell you about his dad.

“She won’t love that.” He was resolved to his decision. If he didn’t tell you than things could keep on going exactly the way they had been.

But it wasn’t his dad, in fact, that had any bearing on the course of things. Meeting up with each other once your parents were home returned to be a Olympic-level obstacle. You swearing that you were headed to Kiara’s for a ‘bible study’ and promising to be home before dinner, walking instead in the direction of the Chateau.

JJ wasn’t there yet when you knocked, John B answering the door instead. “Hey, I didn’t realize you were coming over.” He greeted, stepping out onto the patio with you, “this doesn’t bother you, does it?” He was referring to the fact that he was shirtless and you shook your head.

“It’s fine, I mean, it is your house.” You shrugged, sitting on the arm of one of the couches. You loved hanging out with Kiara and Pope, they didn’t just feel like JJ’s friends but yours too. There was just something about John B, you could never quite get there with him.

“JJ said your parents were out of town last week?” He asked, “Figured that was why it was so quiet here.”

“Yeah I borrowed all the loud energy for a few days,” you laughed, “it was nice though, getting to spend time with him without having to sneak around the island.”

John B nodded, walking across the small space to look outside. He paced back over to the other couch, taking a seat on the arm, mirroring your position. With your back to the screen you couldn’t see JJ approaching the house and later it was obvious that was John B’s intent all along. “Look, you seem really nice and I don’t wanna hurt your feelings, I think you’re a really cool person,” he started, pausing at the right spot to build anticipation.

“But?” You asked. You missed the sound of JJ’s boots on the steps for the creaky nature of the floorboards when John B stood up.

“But he’s only dating you for a bet. Sarah bet him $200 he could get you to sleep with him.” He replied, the sound of the door slamming open the perfect punctuation to the sentence.

“What the fuck John B!” JJ snapped, tackling his friend into the couch you were sitting on the arm of. You jumped, stumbling back a few steps, eyes wide as JJ punched John B in the ribs, pinning him down to the couch. The whole thing felt like it was playing out in slow motion but sped up at the same time. When John B finally managed to shove JJ off of him, throwing the blond to the floor, you snapped out of whatever trance it had ensnared you in.

“JJ!” You said his name before he could even get himself back on his feet and both boys looked at you. “Is it true?”

JJ stood up, grabbing his hat off the ground and clenching his fists around it. When he paid John B back it had been with the implied understanding that no one outside of their circle ever needed to know about the bet. Pope had urged him to tell you, insisting that maybe you would understand. But it was far too late for that. The bet was that the two of you had sex and you had and knowing about the bet did nothing but cheapen the moment.

“Is it true?” You repeated, trying to hold tears at bay as everything felt like it was crashing around you. This was exactly why your mom believed so strongly that the outside world was innately evil.

“It wasn’t that simple-“ JJ started to say but you cut him off.

“Yes or no?” You snapped, voicing raising more than JJ had ever heard, even when you were freaking out over lunch with Timothy’s family, “is John B telling the truth?”

“Yes.” JJ sighed, running a hand through his hair. You backed away from both of them and turned, pulling the door open and running down the steps. “Fuck,” he cursed, taking off after you. He called your name but you didn’t answer, going along the path he’d shown you between your house and John B’s. The moment you hit the yard he stopped, he couldn’t follow you there, as if the ground was poisonous to his touch. It was a natural repellent and he stood at the edge of the tree line, watching you head inside.

Minutes. It took minutes, and John B deciding to be an absolute asshole, to completely pull apart the only actual relationship he’d ever been in. He wanted nothing more than to go back to the Chateau and beat the shit out of John B until he felt better but he knew, in reality, that nothing was bound to actually make him feel anything but completely broken. You were gone. JJ changed course, heading instead to Heyward’s.

He had told Pope, while both of them were in the kitchen at John B’s, that he had slept with you for the first time. Kiara had told him, because he had blabbed to her too, that virginity was a social construct.

“You shouldn’t make such a big deal out of it.” She’d insisted.

“It is a big deal Kie, to her. It’s a huge fucking deal.” He had argued.

But none of that felt like it even mattered cause he had fucked up so badly that he wasn’t entirely sure how to fix it. He could certainly chance going to your house but he didn’t want to show up too soon. If you needed time he wanted to give that to you, whatever you needed, so long as, in the end, you believed him when he told you that it was all just a mistake. The bet, not you.

Kiara called JJ that night, you had come by her house after dinner, after asking your parents if you could sleep over, and apologizing for showing up at all. “I know this is shitty to do to you, JJ’s your best friend, I just…don’t have other friends to go to.” You had all but cried when Kiara hugged you, pulling you into her house.

You certainly couldn’t call any of your siblings, even the ones you were closest too would not be understanding. All they would see was a girl who broke her vows to the church by dating, by having sex, by lying and tricking your parents. There was no possible way that anyone in your house or your family or even anyone in your church would understand your decision to, in their minds, turn your back on God to be with a boy. So you went to Kiara’s and hoped that she wouldn’t turn you away. Whatever the bet with JJ was, you felt like Kiara was a friend, someone you could count on more than anyone else in your life right now.

“You can come over anytime, about anything.” She promised.

“I just feel so stupid,” you confessed, sitting on the bed in her bedroom, drinking a seltzer from her secret stash behind her desk. Losing your virginity, getting drunk, crying over a boy, you’d hit all your milestones in a week. If you were sober, if you weren’t so upset, you would be able to look at it for what it was but instead you stuck in this place, grieving over something you thought was so real. “John B said it was all just a bet.”

“What did JJ say?” Kiara asked. She knew about the bet but had felt like it was JJ’s place to tell you. Obviously, he had not.

“That it was, that John B was telling the truth.” You replied, taking another sip.

“Maybe you should talk to him?” She suggested. It was a tricky line to walk down but Kiara didn’t want you to give up on JJ. She knew he had feelings for you. “I’ve been friends with JJ for a really long time, I’ve never seen him like this.”

Kiara had known JJ since middle school and she’d watched him, since then, go through different relationships, if they could be called that. Dates required more effort than he was willing to give when they expected the same attention that he paid to his friends, quickly altering the way he approached relationships until they were just hook-ups. Just short lived moments, half the time too drunk to remember. He flirted, an empty gesture that compensated for his need to be physically close to people without him having to seem clingy.

“I just don’t know why he didn’t tell me.” You cried. “No wonder my parents never wanted me to date, it hurts so much.”

“I know,” Kiara lamented, crawling across the bed so she could pull you into a hug, your head resting against her shoulder as you continued to cry. It was like an endless sadness, you couldn’t imagine recovering from.

It was when you finally fell asleep, exhausted from crying and almost entirely drunk, that Kiara finally called JJ. She left you tucked in her bed, going into the bathroom and locking the door as she sat on the closed toilet to call him. It was nearing three in the morning but he answered anyway, immediately asking if she had heard from you.

“She took off toward her house and it’s not like I can call her or something. I followed her to her yard but I was worried her parents would see me.” JJ had hastily explained. He’d thought about going back later but when he did your mom was in the yard and he didn’t want to chance it.

“She’s here.” Kiara replied, voice low so her parents did come snooping when they heard voices. Her mom had been dying to get some kind of gossip out of you when you first showed up.

“John B told her about the bet.”

“Did you explain that you gave the money back?” She asked.

“I…I just kinda got into it with John B.” He admitted. “In my defense though, she didn’t let me explain!” He knew it wasn’t your fault, you were upset, but thinking that it’d been him, by proxy, that had hurt you like that had his stomach turning.

“I’m pretty sure finding out that the first guy you’ve ever dated or had feelings for was using you for a bet would be kind of traumatizing JJ! She doesn’t really wanna talk to anyone, she barely explained what happened, she just keeps saying how stupid she feels.” Kiara replied.

“I just need to talk to her.”

“Maybe just, give it some time?” She suggested.

“I don’t have time.” JJ replied, pulling at strands of his hair as he combed his fingers through it. “She’s eighteen in a week. Her parents set her up with this guy from Tennessee and she’s going be engaged on her birthday. I can’t let her go through with it.”

“That’s part of her life JJ, I mean, that’s what her family believes-“

“She deserves more than that!”

“And you can provide this? I don’t wanna be that bitch Jay but, seriously? You can provide something for her that’s better than, at least, some security. Something worth giving up her entire family for?” Kiara asked. She knew she sounded awful but she couldn’t help questioning him. The last thing she wanted was you trapped into a life you didn’t want but JJ playing like everything would be rainbows and good times if you left was impractical.

“I have a plan.”

“And what exactly, is that?”

“Look, I don’t fucking need you getting all high and mighty!” JJ spat, pissed as it was. Kiara had the nerve to tell him not to make such a big deal about sex but she could turn around and bitch him out for wanting to ‘interfere with your life’. He knew she was just trying to be a decent friend to you but he didn’t want her input, he just wanted her to put you on the phone.

“You’re playing with her life here Jay…if she chooses you, if you apologize and she gets back together with you…she will never get to speak to her family again. Is that what you want?” She questioned, “to have her ostracized from her family.”

“I want her to be happy.” JJ replied, “and to know that none of this was fake.”

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wallgirl · 3 years

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The Little Nereid Part 12

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 2,200

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful. Loving someone like Poseidon is not easy period, let alone as your first love. But Dynamene is young and naïve, and all she wants is a chance to be at the sea god’s side.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. There will be some graphic violence in the future.

Updated regularly; will have about 18 parts total.

—

It was still dark out when Dynamene arrived at the temple. Dawn was just breaking over the horizon, the ocean calm. Still soaking wet from head to toe, she left puddles of water with each trudge up the sizable hill where the temple overlooked the sea. She had never been to a human temple before. It was less grand than she had imagined, though still tall and stately. It was impressive as far as human architecture went, she supposed.

She entered hesitantly, feeling almost embarrassed to be tracking water into a sacred, if humble, place. In the room at the center of the temple stood Aphrodite's cult image. It was roughly life-sized and hewn from wood, with a delicate cloth draping it modestly. Dynamene suppressed a smile when she saw it; it was much less curvaceous and delicate looking than the real goddess. She approached it gingerly, not sure what to do next.

Most humans that came to temples to ask something of the gods brought an offering, she knew, but she hadn't the faintest idea what to present. She was entirely empty-handed, save for the thin chiton she wore and her treasured bracelet, neither of which she was about to part with.

After a few minutes of pondering, the answer came to her - Aphrodite was the goddess of beauty, too, not just love. Dynamene's hands went to her two braids. Would she accept her hair as an offering...? Surely there was little more a woman could give in way of sacrificing her beauty.

She picked up a sharp seashell from the altar and aligned it with the base of the first braid, against her neck, and took a deep breath. Her hair had been long her whole life, but it would grow back, right?

Before she could even make the first cut, there was a deafening clap, and she was surrounded by white light.

When the light cleared, she was no longer standing in the dim inner room of the temple. A strange burning sensation lingered on her skin before quickly subsiding. Dynamene hesitantly lifted her head.

She was in a vast room with golden floors and roses of every color climbing the frescoed walls. A giant fountain, several times her height, stood ahead to her right. It bubbled and gurgled merrily, the white foam so bright that she could hardly look at it. A handful of small cherubs tended to bunches of pristine lilies that floated serenely in the bottom pool. And to her left, reclining on a golden couch inlaid with diamonds and pearls, was a statuesque woman with golden waves and wide eyes.

"My, you weren't really going to cut your hair, were you?" Aphrodite cried, staring at Dynamene with alarm. "I may be the goddess of love as well as beauty, but I'll let you in on a secret - no woman should sacrifice her looks for a man."

Dynamene immediately turned red. "I... I apologize." She tucked the shell away awkwardly into the fold of her chiton. "Um, where am I?"

"You're at my palace, on Mount Olympus," Aphrodite proclaimed. She smiled at Dynamene and tilted her head. "I've been waiting so long to speak with you. Come, sit!"

Mount Olympus?! Dynamene had been here before on a few occasions to accompany Poseidon as part of his court, but only to the common grounds. Each of the twelve Olympians had their own estate and palace that they designed and furnished to their liking, most filled with opulence and treasure that lesser beings could barely dream of. To think that she should now find herself in one was incredible.

Aphrodite snapped her fingers. A couch that matched her own appeared next to Dynamene, as well as a table with cups and a jug of some mysterious liquid. "You must be famished. You've had quite the journey; sit, sit!"

How could she know that? Dynamene settled nervously onto the couch and smoothed the bottom of her dress. She was all too aware of how bedraggled she must look, especially in such an exquisite place. The upholstery became dotted with dark spots of water from her damp hair.

Aphrodite snapped her fingers, and Dynamene's clothes and hair dried in an instant. "There we are. More comfortable?"

"Um, yes, thank you." Dynamene touched the bottom of her braid in amazement. The jug on the table before her poured itself into her cup, and she brought it to her mouth with both hands. Something incredibly sweet and steaming hot flowed into her lips.

"That's nectar. Careful you don't drink too much, it'll cause indigestion. Now then, you've called upon me for help," Aphrodite beamed and moved upright, crossing her legs. "I'm overjoyed, to say the least." She rested her chin elegantly on the thumb and pointer finger of one hand.

"You are?" Dynamene felt completely lost.

"Yes! I've been following your adventure ever since things began to really heat up a few weeks ago. Your birthday, to be precise. How exciting! I haven't seen a love story this gripping in centuries."

Dynamene almost dropped her cup. "Following me?! Do you mean you've seen everything that's happened since then?"

"Well, the juicy bits, yes. As the goddess of love, I can tune in on any love affair or infatuation I desire. Most are a bit boring, nowadays. But you... Your feelings for Poseidon... It's such a delight! What a turn of events! I'm quite invested." Aphrodite giggled.

Dynamene's face continued to burn red. "I... I don't understand."

Aphrodite sighed and leaned back once more. "Ah, Poseidon... such an enigma. Such a tall, dark, and handsome man... Such an incredible body... But such a wretched personality."

Dynamene flinched.

"He really is a delight to look at, though, isn't he?" Aphrodite sighed, her gaze turning dreamy. "There was a time when I thought I might add him to my body count... But his stifling demeanor quickly dispersed that idea from my head. Such a foul attitude."

Dynamene felt a different kind of heat rise up from her neck to her ears, and her gaze narrowed before she could hide her feelings. Aphrodite laughed in response.

"Oh, don't worry! I'd never touch him now; such a cold fish. Not the type to be a considerate lover, at any rate. An ice statue of a man," she scoffed. Her gaze moved back to Dynamene with curiosity. "But you love him anyway!" Aphrodite leaned forward once more, her eyes wide.

Dynamene stared at her lap, completely overwhelmed. "I... I do." Her voice sounded so small, even to herself.

"Tell me about it! How did it happen? What was it that made you fall for him? I want to know everything!"

"Um..." Dynamene swallowed hard. She could see him clearly in her mind's eye; that piercing gaze and chiseled body. She remembered the way his body had shadowed hers in the dark on the beach. What was it...

Aphrodite smirked, as if she knew exactly what Dynamene was thinking. "Yes, handsome, that much is a give-in. But what else? There has to be something drawing you to him."

"Well..." Dynamene racked her brain. "He's incredibly powerful, and smart. He knows his realm so well..."

"That's a start, I suppose," Aphrodite clicked her tongue. "But men like that are a dime-a-dozen. And that won't keep you warm at night."

"What?" Although Dynamene had no idea what she was getting at, she had the feeling it was something rather uncouth.

"Oh, I apologize. You're a virgin, right? You're inexperienced in these matters." Aphrodite took a dainty sip from her own cup. "Those qualities are all nice and fine, but there's nothing romantic or passionate about them. Not things that really light the flame of love, as it were."

Dynamene was silent for a moment, staring at her hands. She thought of the way he'd spoken with her on the beach, and the way he'd gone out of his way to show her the wonderful things he saw underwater. "He shared his power with me... He used it to show me all the things he could sense in the ocean. It was amazing, and so nice. He held my hand... and I didn't want him to let go."

"So that's it!" Aphrodite said triumphantly. "He made you feel special. He gave you a glimpse of something he's never shown anyone else."

Dynamene smiled wistfully. "And then, he promised me another bracelet... He's never given me anything besides on my birthday. It must mean something. He's never done that for anyone before."

"The frigid tyrant is finally thawing," Aphrodite pondered, swishing her cup. "Maybe he won't spend eternity a virgin, after all," she snickered.

Wait... Does she mean me and him...? Dynamene hid her face in her hands. Oh, no. This is too much. What am I doing here?!

"So he is getting sweet on you, then." Aphrodite threw her head back in laughter. "Oh, I can't believe it; that a day like this would come! It's too much."

"Well... not sweet, exactly, but..." Dynamene rubbed her arm.

"Not sweet?" Aphrodite rose one eyebrow. "He didn't kill you when he had the opportunity. That's quite the gesture of fondness for him, really."

Dynamene blinked, struck speechless.

"Now, then," Aphrodite continued, her voice taking on a more business-like tone. "As far as directly helping you, there's little I can offer. Poseidon would have my head if he ever found out I was interfering in his love life, and that wouldn't do." She sighed rather theatrically.

"Oh." Dynamene's shoulders sank. Then it was all for nothing.

"But..." Aphrodite continued with a mischievous smile. "That doesn't mean I can't point you in the direction of someone who can help you. I've heard through the grapevine that there's a witch not far from Poseidon's estate who does spell work for those who are willing to pay the price. She lives in one of the deepest undersea trenches. I'm sure she'd be happy to strike a deal with you."

"A witch?" Dynamene had misgivings about this immediately. Witches didn't exactly enjoy the highest of praises within the Greek pantheon's society. "Aren't a lot of them shady?"

"They are. But you're clever enough, and there's no guarantee that this witch will be as seedy as the rest. Just keep your wits about you. All you need is something to convince him to make a commitment to you. I understand Hera gave you a blessing during her latest visit."

Dynamene remembered the gilded pomegranate. "She did."

"Something about a guaranteed happy union, correct? She told me about it. There's your ticket to a happy ending; you just need to secure the union in the first place."

Dynamene smiled. "You're right. It was very kind of Hera to give me a blessing. I was so surprised."

"She didn't do it out of the kindness of her heart," Aphrodite sighed, giving her curls a shake.

Dynamene's smile froze. "What do you mean?"

"Hmm..." Aphrodite puffed her cheeks, weighing her next words. "I'll let you in on a little insider's secret: she wants Poseidon married to force a crack in his armor."

Dynamene stared at her. "Pardon? His armor?"

"If Poseidon gets married and has a family, he'll have a weak spot. Hera knows that Poseidon is feared more than Zeus, and she loathes the possibility of him holding more influence. She wants to have a way to keep Poseidon in line. That's why she gave you that pomegranate." Aphrodite shook her head, wrapping a curl of hair idly about one finger.

Dynamene's head was spinning as she tried to put two and two together. "But... the blessing would be useless to her purpose unless she knew that one of us liked the other. So how...?"

Aphrodite giggled mischievously and gave Dynamene a wink. "I guess I'm not always the best secret keeper myself."

Dynamene stared at her, aghast. Hera would use me as a tool to get to Poseidon? Her eyes darted back and forth anxiously. I'm so stupid. Of course she wouldn't give a random blessing like that out of kindness; that's not how the Olympians usually function.

"Don't fret too much, dear Dynamene." Aphrodite's eyes darkened above her smile. "It doesn't really matter what the future after your union holds; not how miserable of a man Poseidon is, or what your relationship turns out to be. If you marry him while holding that blessing, you'll be happy no matter what your situation is."

Dynamene's gaze searched the goddess's face. Why did it seem like Aphrodite's expression was almost one of pity?

Happy... even if I shouldn't be?

"Rest assured, I am rooting for you, little Nereid. Now go; I'll send you near the witch's home. Or, at least where I think it is." The goddess of beauty shrugged her delicate shoulders.

White light enveloped Dynamene once more, and she braced herself. Before Aphrodite's palace disappeared, she heard the goddess call out one last time: "In exchange, I expect to be the first to know about your wedding night!"

---

Author’s notes:

Did you know, when I started this fanfiction, I planned it to be 4 parts and about 9000 words?

I am now past 32000. Help me.

Things are coming to a head, stay tuned.

#record of ragnarok #poseidon #poseidon x oc #shuumatsu no valkyrie #Aphrodite #fanfiction

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sokkastyles · 4 years

Text

Iroh: Zuko, you must let go of your feelings of shame if you want your anger to go away.

Zuko: But I don't feel any shame at all. I'm as proud as ever.

Iroh: Prince Zuko, pride is not the opposite of shame, but its source. True humility is the only antidote to shame.

Another important aspect of Zuko letting go of his shame by letting go of his pride is learning to not take himself so seriously. In “The Firebending Masters,” Zuko says that he doesn’t want to rely on anger anymore, but we do see him still struggling with his anger at various points. When he’s embarrassed by his loss of his firebending at the beginning of the episode, he takes his anger out on himself and the others.

...Which he shouldn’t do, but it also was probably incredibly hard for him to admit that he’d lost the most valuable thing he had to offer them and subject himself to their ridicule, particularly from Katara and Sokka, who both take the opportunity to mock him because neither of them are happy about him joining the group at this point.

Realizing that he doesn’t want to rely on anger is the first step towards letting go of those feelings of shame which developed because of how he was treated by his family, but I think it was particularly difficult in this episode because of how his firebending was a huge source of shame for him. He probably thought that once he joined the gaang he would no longer feel the kind of pressure he felt under his father, but it’s still something he has to struggle with because that kind of trauma doesn’t just go away.

And although he doesn’t take seriously Aang’s advice about having a more positive attitude, he does develop a more positive outlook in this episode which is literally symbolized by finding a new source for his firebending.

The experience at the Sun Warrior temple is also incredibly humbling, as Zuko and Aang have to face the dragons, not knowing if they will be burnt to a crisp. Considering Zuko’s history with being burned, willingly subjecting himself to this is especially humbling, sort of like an immersion therapy.

The theme of not taking oneself too seriously is a repeated theme of the show that is present in many characters’ storylines. One of the things that makes Aang a heroic character is that he doesn’t take himself too seriously. Although Aang does have to deal with his fear of fire in this episode, he feels no embarrassment about “dancing” with Zuko, who has to be convinced, and the show plays up the inherent silliness of it despite the awesome power of the dragons.

Aang: With this technique the dragons showed us, Zuko and I will be unstoppable. Sokka: Yeah, that's a great dance you two learned there.

Zuko: It's not a dance. It's a firebending form.

Zuko reacts with anger that Sokka isn’t taking it seriously, and thus he’s forced to eat his own words.

Sokka: We'll just tap-dance our way to victory over the Fire Lord.

Zuko: It's a sacred form that happens to be thousands of years old!

Katara: Oh, yeah‌? What's your little form called‌?

Zuko: The Dancing Dragon.

Zuko is very embarrassed at being laughed at here and pretty much brought it on himself, but by the beginning of the next episode he has learned to let go a little bit, even trying to make a joke himself, but he forgets most of Uncle’s tea joke, so of course he ends up being laughed at again. And you can see him reacting again with embarrassment, and it kind of looks like he’s deciding whether he should be angry or upset about them laughing at him, but it quickly dissipates as he realizes that they aren’t laughing at him out of malice.

Here we see that Zuko’s anger is not only something he learned to fuel his firebending, it’s a defense mechanism. For someone who has been abused in the way Zuko has, anger is a way to mask painful emotions, and Zuko often uses anger to mask his feelings of failure. We also see Azula mock him repeatedly throughout the series and provoke him to anger, and we see how afraid he is of showing anything that could be perceived as a weakness in front of his father. So once he’s with the gaang, he’s not sure how to react to the good-natured ribbing that actually means that he is part of their group now. I’ve said before that in this scene at the beginning of “The Boiling Rock,” even Katara’s sarcastic comment isn’t voice-acted to be mean-spirited, even though she’s still angry at Zuko. It comes across more like the kind of teasing she would do to Sokka or any of the group. And Zuko realizes that he doesn’t have to put his guard up anymore, that these people aren’t being mean and they aren’t going to use something like Zuko forgetting a joke against him. There’s a clear progression here with Zuko learning not to take himself so seriously, and by the beginning of “The Southern Raiders,” he’s actually making his own jokes.

Aang: Wow, camping ... it really seems like old times again, doesn't it?

Zuko: If you really want it to feel like old times, I could, uh ... chase you around a while and try to capture you.

I love how he’s hesitant, like he’s not sure whether the joke will land. And that’s not illogical, because it wasn’t that long ago that he was chasing them around and trying to capture them. But the fact that they do laugh shows how comfortable they are with him now and how they’ve accepted him into the group (except Katara at this point). It also shows how far Zuko has come, from being ashamed of his past to actually making jokes about it. His joke also lands better this time because it’s his own joke rather than one of Iroh’s which he’s trying to copy.

In the next episode, “Ember Island Players,” he still gets angry at Katara for making a joke at his expense and still reacts with embarrassment, especially when confronted with the sins of his past, but he’s slowly learning to be more comfortable with himself and let go. And I think that’s an important lesson because Zuko definitely had to forgive himself before he could accept the forgiveness of others, not just for the things he did wrong but for the things that he was convinced for so long that he had done wrong, and for the shame that was a part of him for so long because his father convinced him that there was something inherently wrong with him.

#zuko #atla meta #iroh #aang #sokka #katara #bitter work #the firebending masters #the boiling rock #the southern raiders #ember island players

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emospritelet · 3 years

Text

Homecoming - chapter 26

Last time, they had sex :)

Here's what happened next

[AO3]

The room was warm and dimly-lit, the candles having been snuffed some time ago and the only light coming from the oil lamp and the glowing embers of the dying fire. Ogilvy held Belle close against his chest, her head nestled over his heart and her fingers trailing over his skin. Having her in his arms again was exquisite, and he turned his head, pressing his nose to the top of her head and breathing in the scent of her.

“That was remarkable,” she said quietly, and he smiled, pressing his lips to her hair.

“Yes.”

“Is it always like that?” she asked. “Is it always so wonderful?”

His smile grew.

“I don’t usually cry quite so much,” he said. “But being with you is always special. No matter the circumstances.”

“Well, that’s very encouraging.”

She kissed his chest, nose nuzzling his nipple.

“Everything I’ve read on the subject somehow failed to convey quite how - intimate - it would be,” she added, and his smile grew.

“You’ve read extensively, then?” he asked, and she giggled.

“As much as I can,” she said. “There seems to be a general conspiracy to prevent women finding out about such things. No doubt for our own good, as they see it.”

“Well, given that women are intelligent and rational creatures, I much prefer to let them discover things for themselves,” he said, and she pushed up on one elbow, raising her chin as she met his eyes.

“Most people would consider you rather eccentric, Tristan Ogilvy,” she said.

“Oh, they do,” he remarked. “For which I’m exceedingly thankful.”

She giggled again, nestling against his chest.

“I have to say I agree with you, though,” she said. “I always prefer some knowledge to none at all.”

“You don’t subscribe to the notion that a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing, then?”

“Only when accompanied by an arrogant refusal to listen to those who know better,” she said lightly. “I don’t think either applies in this instance.”

Ogilvy chuckled.

“In that case, you may find some works in my library to be of interest,” he said.

“Hmm.” Her fingers delicately traced a path over his chest, and she glanced up at him. “I feel that knowledge gained through practical experience may also be very beneficial.”

Her eyes were gleaming, and he laughed, kissing her again.

“I’m happy to encourage your study in this area, in that case.”

Belle bit her lip in amusement, glancing away as she blushed. She felt relaxed and content, a warm and heavy feeling that made it hard to stop smiling. The feeling of bliss at being joined with him was ever-present, and their bodies were sticky with heat, slippery with perspiration where they were pressed together. She was eager to experience more, to experiment with touch and taste and lose herself in sensation, but she had read that men needed to rest after, and she was content to limit her curiosity to the exploration of his body. Her fingers caressed the firm planes of his chest, stroking down over his softer belly, learning the feel of him. She traced the path of the scar on his right side, following the curve upwards, and raised her eyes to his.

“How did you get this?” she asked, and he pulled a face.

“A Rùsgadh demon,” he said. “Long claws and nasty tempers. I got careless.”

Her eyes widened a little, and her hand slipped lower, running over his hip and feeling the knotted scar tissue on his thigh. It felt like a burn, and a serious one.

“And this?”

“A fire demon,” he said. “Hadn’t seen one since the tenth century, in Northumberland. The locals called them Villi-Eldr back then. Very destructive, especially in populated areas, so when Doc foresaw a nest hatching, we knew we had to stop it.”

“This feels like it hurt a lot,” she observed, fingers still caressing him, and he chuckled.

“I threw myself into the river to put out the fire,” he said. “Not sure which was worse, the burn on my leg or the week I spent trying to get the river out of my system.”

“Such an exciting life,” she said, sliding the hand back up to his belly, and he sighed.

“I suppose I’ve seen a lot of the world,” he said. “I’ve seen things that most people think are figments of a fevered mind.”

“It must be interesting,” she said, pushing up a little and folding her arms across his chest. “Dangerous, though, I imagine.”

He smiled at that.

“There have been a few near misses in recent years,” he confessed. “We’re both getting old, and it was always harder to deal with these things with only two. We’ve missed you.”

“Does that mean you’ll be expecting me to assist with your fight against the forces of darkness?” she asked, grinning. “It might be difficult, given that I remember nothing of our past.”

“Give Doc a week and he’ll be planning our next trip,” he said, in a wry tone. “Besides, given your thirst for knowledge, I’m sure it won’t take you long to master the basics. I almost pity whatever we come up against.”

She smiled, leaning in to kiss him with a soft pull of lips before settling back, chin pushed into her folded arms.

“How is it that you can remember, and I can’t?” she asked, and he smiled faintly.

“Part of the magic of our bond,” he said. “Three stones used in the ritual that bound us together in the first place. We use them to wake each other.”

“With magic?”

She was aware that she still sounded a little sceptical, and Ogilvy gave her a small grin that suggested he could hear it in her tone.

“When we get home, I’ll show you a little magic,” he said. “I’ll even teach you some.”

That was an intriguing prospect, but she decided to leave it for the moment.

“Tell me more about the stones,” she said.

“The Seer gave them to each of us in the original ritual,” he said. “We carried them in the early years, hung around our necks in leather bags. Later, when we found someone with the skill to work with metal, we had them set in rings. Ordinarily we’d have all three. Doc and I have ours”—he held up his hand, the moonstone gleaming in its thick gold band—”but we haven’t found yours.”

Belle could feel her brow crease in contemplation as she thought over what he had said.

“How do you manage to find them in each life?” she asked. “I don’t wish to be morbid, but presumably if you die, something happens to your bodies, and to your belongings.”

“Correct.”

“So unless you know where and when you’ll be born again,” she went on. “I imagine you’d have to make some sort of arrangement regarding the rings. A hiding place for them. Somewhere no one else would think to look. Perhaps - oh, I don't know, perhaps a sacred space of some sort.”

He was eyeing her with a look of pride, and it made her want to blush.

“You’re quite right,” he agreed. “Doc always decides on a place to store the rings. As he’s born with his memories, he remembers where we put them, and can go and retrieve them.”

“And is he always right?” she asked. “Does he always remember?”

Ogilvy pulled a face.

“There have been a few occasions where you or I haven’t had time to hide our own rings in the agreed spot before - well, before the end,” he acknowledged. “In those times, he’s had to rely on his Sight to guide him.”

“What if someone else were to find them first?”

“I’ve thought about that myself,” he admitted. “I have to confess that in the past I’ve worried that with the rate of development in this country, the hiding place might be discovered. It would be a poor show if the rings were placed in some museum or other.”

Belle grinned at that, wriggling a little against his side as she got more comfortable.

“He would have to become some sort of professor of antiquities rather than history in general,” she suggested. “Curator of the museum with access to the collection.”

He laughed.

“The alternative would be an audacious burglary, I suppose,” he said, and Belle giggled.

“Do you have any idea where my stone is?” she asked, and he sighed.

“I haven’t seen it since the fourteenth century,” he said simply. “Except in that painting of Elizabeth Willoughby.”

“The necklace,” she whispered. “That was the stone, wasn’t it? Is - is that why Elizabeth remembered? She knew there was something strange about the stone even before she got her memories back, I think.”

“I don’t think it was the stone,” he said. “At least not on its own. We had to use the stones together in the past to wake each other, but the Seer told me that she woke you - woke Elizabeth, I mean. She gave Elizabeth her memories, but I’m not clear on how that was done.”

“No. Nor I.” She thought for a moment. “There was nothing in the journal to explain it.”

"A pity."

There was a moment of silence. His gaze was far away, and she wondered what he was thinking about.

"Would you like to read the journal?" she asked.

Ogilvy seemed to hesitate, lips parted, eyes staring up at the canopy. He turned his head towards her, and that sorrowful look was back in his eyes again, the memory of ancient heartache.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "Part of me wants to have that connection, to know what you went through without me, and another part of me knows how painful the reading of it will be."

"I think I understand," she said slowly, and his eyes seemed to search her face.

"Would you like me to read it?" he asked gently, and she bit her lip.

"I think so," she said. "But - perhaps when I get my memories back. If I do, I mean."

“Then we must find the way,” he said. “The Seer said she could return your memories to you, as she did before, but that there would be a price.”

“What sort of price?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” he said gravely. “Nor did she. She told me that waking you in this life would affect us in the next, but as to how...” He lifted a hand to indicate his ignorance.

“That could be any number of things."

“Indeed.”

“And she was unable to even hint at what the price may be?”

“Not at this time,” he said. “She said she would think on it. She will come to us when the time is right. We must hope she has a clearer idea of the price at that time, so that we - so that you - can make an informed decision.”

“And she can return my memories?” asked Belle. “All of them?”

“All of them,” he confirmed. “If you want that, of course.”

Belle was silent for a moment, thinking. Memories of other lives, stretching back thousands of years. How wonderful that must be. And how painful. There must be grief and loss from all those lives. How do they bear it? How will I?

“You don’t have to,” he added. “It’s your choice.”

She pursed her lips.

“But - don’t you want me to remember?” she asked. “Everything, I mean. Everything we did together, the lives we shared...”

Ogilvy smiled faintly. There was an air of sadness about him, a sense of despondency.

“What I want is immaterial,” he said. “There is pain as well as pleasure in the memories. I won’t force them on you. It’s your choice, just as it always has been.”

There was a look in his eyes she couldn’t fully interpret, but she could sense heartbreak and loss, and she wanted to shudder. Whatever he is thinking of, it can’t be pleasant.

“I shall consider it,” she said. “It seems moot at present, given that we don’t know how.”

“True enough,” he agreed. “And there is time for you to think it over. It may be months or even years before the Seer comes to us.”

He nodded, and there was silence for a moment. Belle shifted against his side a little, thinking over what he had told her. One of the candle flames was guttering, sending out pulses of light and making shadows dance and flicker on the walls, and she watched the light shift on his features, his eyes dark pits.

“The Seer,” she said slowly. “Who is she?”

Ogilvy chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“I wish I knew,” he said dryly. “Back in the days before we were first joined, there were whispers amongst the tribe that she was one of the fair folk. She certainly looks no different today than she did back then, so perhaps she is something other than human. One who walks between the worlds. Perhaps not. Perhaps she’s like us. Returning in every life, the same spirit in the same form, over and over.”

“And she has - magic?”

“Yes,” he said. “She has magic. And the Sight. The ability to see what will be. Just as Doc does. Though perhaps with a somewhat wider and more impersonal perspective.”

“I - I’m not sure I understand.”

“Doc has visions of the future concerning us, those to whom we’re close, and the dark forces we fight,” he explained. “The Seer’s gaze is cast a little wider. Across the earth as a whole. She saw that we would be needed to fight the darkness for the good of all.”

“How did she know it would be us specifically?” she asked.

“She didn’t,” he said simply. “Or at least, if she did, she didn’t let on. The only one she chose was Doc. It was part of the ritual. The rest of the tribe chose me, and I chose you.”

“And what was my choice?” She shifted again, body sliding against his, and he smiled.

“You chose to be bound to me,” he said. “That was part of the ritual too. You had to give yourself to me of your own free will.”

“Well, thank goodness for that, at least,” she remarked.

“Indeed.”

There was silence for a moment. His fingers were gently stroking the curve of her waist. Her mind was reeling, a thousand questions bubbling up from within.

“Why did you choose me?” she asked, and he sighed.

“The Seer of my own tribe told me I had to leave,” he said. “Told me that the future depended on it. She told me I was destined to be one of the three, with the old man and the maiden. I was to look for a girl, and that I would know her when I saw her. And so I wandered, until I found your tribe. Until I saw you.”

“And did you know?” she asked, and he smiled.

“Yes,” he whispered. “The first time I laid eyes on you, I knew. I just had to wait for you to choose me.”

“Did you ever think perhaps I wouldn’t?” she asked. Ogilvy chuckled.

“I think you found me insufferably arrogant at times, so yes, there was always a seed of doubt there,” he said.

“That doesn’t sound like you,” she observed, and he sighed.

“I lost a great deal of my sense of worth in the lives without you,” he said. “And some of my rage. I used to snarl and bite at the world when I wasn’t simply cursing the gods for parting us. Mostly I’m just tired now.”

Belle chewed her lip, wanting to kiss some of the self-assurance back into him.

“And - and before that?” she asked. “Back when we first met? Did you really worry that I wouldn’t choose you?”

The smile was back on his face, this time somewhat rueful.

“I wasn’t lying about the arrogance,” he said. “But it was more a question of whether you would choose another before the time came. As the beautiful chief’s daughter you could have had your pick.”

“The chief’s daughter, indeed.” She swatted his chest playfully. “Upstart!”

He burst out laughing.

“Yes, I was certainly that,” he agreed. “But I spent years fretting that perhaps I was wrong, and that at any moment you would choose one of the handsome hunters that were sniffing around your father’s fire. It was a relief when you agreed, and I found that the Seer had spoken truly.”

“Foresight sounds like a dreadful burden,” she observed, and he laughed again.

“Oh, indeed. And it’s far from infallible,” he said. “Having the visions doesn’t always let Doc interpret them properly, for example. Sometimes he just knows what’s coming. Sometimes it’s all interpreting signs and portents and digging through old books to work it out.”

“Sounds equally frustrating and fascinating.”

“I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” she said, pushing up a little. “All these things I thought were myths and children’s tales. Magic and portents and ancient power. So many new things to learn. And here I thought I’d arrived on your doorstep to be a governess!”

He was watching her with a tiny, amused smile and a soft look in his eyes.

“Marry me,” he whispered, and she pursed her lips, trying not to smile.

“Well, I suppose I really ought to,” she observed. “Certainly if we want to do that again. Which I very much do.”

She giggled, and he grinned.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” she said decidedly. “I shall marry you. Oh, but let’s make it a small wedding. And almost scandalously quick. I rather like sharing a bed with you and I have no desire to wait weeks to do it again.”

He laughed.

“Yes, I’d prefer it if Mrs Wolfe didn’t walk out in protest,” he remarked. “She finds some of the aspects of my lifestyle unsettling enough, I daresay. I think carnal relations whilst unmarried may just tip her over the edge.”

Belle giggled, snuggling against his side.

“Soon, then,” she said. “How soon do you think we could do it?”

“I’d need to make some enquiries, but I believe the shortest time would be seven days.” His fingers were caressing the skin of her waist again, gently stroking. “I think I have to get a licence. Otherwise it’s three weeks.”

“So, at least a week from now.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “In that case, we really ought to make the most of tonight, don’t you think?”

He smiled, turning on his side, and his hand gently cupped her cheek as he kissed her. She opened her mouth with a contented noise, her hand sliding around his waist and up his back, her body shifting closer until she was pressed against him. His tongue gently stroked hers and she moaned a little, enjoying the heat of his body, the squash of flesh as they pressed together and his fingers pushing through her hair.

He pulled his mouth from hers, kissing down her neck and sending shivers through her, and she let her head roll back against the pillows, body arching upwards as he moved lower. The feel of his mouth on her nipple made her let out a tiny cry, fingers running up over his shoulders to tangle in his hair. The ends were damp where they had lain against the nape of his neck, his skin hot to the touch, and she closed her eyes, losing herself in the soft pull of his lips.

His hand slid between her legs, gently stroking, and she gasped as he touched sensitive skin, fingers sliding through flesh already slippery with their fluids. One finger gently pushed inside her, and Belle moaned, eyes closed, skin tingling. She could feel the soft, wet sweep of his tongue on her nipple, the scrape of his stubble against her breast, the hard length of the finger inside her and the friction of his hand against the sensitive bud at the top of her cleft. It was making something deep within her belly coil and tighten, her limbs stiffening. He let the nipple slip from his mouth, kissing upwards, nose nuzzling at her neck before his tongue swept up its length to her ear. The sensation made her shiver, and she moaned again, pushing against his hand, eager for the pleasure he could give her.

“Please, my love!” she whispered. “I need you!”

She felt him smile against her neck, and the finger gently slipped out of her, his hand reaching down between them. He shifted, his weight pressing down on her, and she felt the hardness of him push up against her. She licked her lips, her breathing rapid, heart thudding in her chest, and her hands slipped to his shoulders, feeling the firm heat of his skin. He met her eyes, gaze locked onto hers as he slowly sank into her, and Belle let out a tiny cry, lifting her hips to meet him, knees sliding up to let him push deeper. Her hands lifted, stroking over his cheeks and pushing into his hair, soft and damp against her fingers. His hands rose up to cup her cheeks, fingers gently stroking strands of hair back from her face, and he bent to kiss her as he began to move, his lips soft and wet against hers.

Belle closed her eyes, lips parted, listening to her own shallow breathing, in time with his, and the low creak of the bed beneath her. She inhaled the scent of him, a faint hint of the cologne he had been wearing and his own musk, the slightly acrid scent from the fire and the warm wax from the burning candles. She could feel the hard length of him inside her, the low groan that rumbled through him, and the heat and wetness where their bodies joined. Pleasure was rising within her, a wave of pressure that set her tingling, quick and hot, as though sparks were dancing across her skin. She clung to him, gripping his shoulders, her legs wrapping around him as their pace quickened and her body grew taut. A moan started deep within her chest, growing in pitch until she broke with a cry, pushing up against him, feeling him pulse inside her as he let out a low groan of pleasure, his arms sliding around her and hugging her tight.

She clung to him as the wave of bliss washed over her, soaking into her skin and leaving her drained. Falling back against the pillows, she tried to gulp in air, her chest heaving, and he slowed his movements, pushing up on his elbows to gaze down at her with a tiny, wicked little grin.

“Are you well?” he asked, and Belle tried to catch her breath, nodding.

“Oh, we are most certainly getting married!” she gasped, and he burst out laughing, kissing her again as he rolled onto his side and pulled her close.

Ogilvy had always been a light sleeper, when he could sleep at all, and staying in other people’s houses only made his insomnia worse. He had nonetheless managed the best night’s sleep he had had in what felt like years, and he woke reluctantly, dragged from his slumber by a faint clanking. After a moment of confusion he recognised it as the sound of fire irons being carried into the room. There was the sound of a sharp intake of breath, and Ogilvy raised his head, meeting the eyes of a young scullery maid with very curly red hair and rapidly flushing cheeks. She squeaked and promptly turned her back, bending to lay the fire, and he settled back down with a grin. No doubt she had been told to simply ignore anything improper she might see, and to go about her chores unless the guests said otherwise. She was probably new. He suspected Lady Ella’s seasoned servants had seen far worse in their time.

Belle was nestled in his arms, her back to his chest, and the bed was far too warm and comfortable to want to move. He lay dozing as the maid finished the fire, listening to the crackle and snap of the wood kindling. The door closed quietly as she left, and he smiled, leaning in to press his lips to Belle’s shoulder. She inhaled deeply, stretching her legs, and he kissed along her shoulder and up her neck, hearing a low hum of contentment.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

“Good morning to you,” she said sleepily. “What time is it?”

“Early,” he said. “I thought perhaps you might want to go back to your room before the rest of the house wakes up.”

“Mm.” Belle turned onto her back, running her hands over her face. “Good idea. I wouldn’t want the children to wonder where I am.”

She turned to face him, looking beautifully dishevelled, her eyes heavy and her cheeks pink. He leaned in to kiss her, an arm sliding around her waist and pulling her close against him, and she moaned in pleasure, opening her mouth as he pushed her onto her back. The kiss deepened, and he felt himself start to swell once more as his hand cupped her breast. Belle pulled her mouth from his.

“I really should go back to my room,” she said breathlessly. “But if you continue to do that I shall be forced to stay here for the remainder of the morning.”

Ogilvy chuckled, kissing her neck once more before pushing up on his elbows.

“I believe we have a train to catch,” he said. “More’s the pity. I fear we’ll have to be more circumspect at home.”

“A seven day wait once we obtain a marriage licence, you said?” she remarked, pursing her lips. “I must say that Parliament really has no consideration for a woman’s needs.”

“When has it ever?” he quipped.

She made a noise of agreement, kissing him once more before shuffling out from beneath him and throwing back the covers. He rolled onto his back, enjoying the sight of her as she hurried around the room, scooping up her nightdress and shawl and pulling them on.

“The servants came in to light the fire,” she observed. “Well. I suppose we were never going to be able to keep it a secret, were we?”

“You said they’re discreet.”

“Oh, indeed they are,” she said, running fingers through her hair in a futile attempt to tame it. “But that doesn’t mean Lady Ella won’t hear everything from them.”

Ogilvy grunted in amusement. He would have expected no less.

“Let’s try and get back to London before she starts planning the wedding herself,” he remarked, and she giggled, tugging the shawl around her shoulders.

“I should go,” she said, and put her head to the side. “I shall see you at breakfast. I for one have an excellent appetite this morning.”

A blush and a smirk, and she was gone, hurrying out of the door and closing it behind her. Ogilvy lay back against the pillows with a contented sigh, hands behind his head. Life was very nearly perfect.

#fic: homecoming #ogilvelle fic #ogilvelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #my fics #rather large estate

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firelordzukohere · 4 years

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Interior Decor

Hello! I started this blog because I wrote a Zuko x Reader fanfiction and I wanted somewhere to post it that wasn’t my main blog.

I came up with the idea for this fic randomly one day and I thought I’d write it down and share it with you all. It’s going to be 4 parts with a possible epilogue, but I’m not sure yet. Please let me know what you think!!

I’ll be updating every Sunday with a new chapter! Hopefully you guys really like this and keep reading!!

I’ve also posted it to AO3 if you’d prefer to read it there

Thanks!

Zuko X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Slight Aangst(heh), and some implications

Word Count: Almost 3k

Summary: Iroh felt it was time for the Palace to reflect the time of Peace and Love that Zuko promised five years earlier at his coronation. He takes it upon himself to hire an interior decorator to help his nephew out and work together. What he didn’t expect was for Zuko to possibly find his own peace and love in the process.

Chapter 1: Feng Shui >> Chapter 2: Tchotchke

Walking into the grand entrance of the Fire Nation Palace, (Y/N) couldn't help but stop and begin mentally jotting down the changes she would make to the décor. It was very dingy, dark, and drab, as though the Palace had been sitting in it's own dusty iceberg for a hundred years, keeping it's hatred preserved with each speck of dirt. The windows were covered in black-out fabric, the walls had pictures of past Fire Lords glaring down at those who dared to enter their sacred home of destruction, plants wilted and dead, no life left within them, and the carpet looked as though it had seen millions upon millions of feet within its lifetime.

Now, (Y/N) wasn't trying to be rude, but it was her job to notice these things. She had been hired by General Iroh to redo the interior of the Fire Nation Palace. This meant every single room from the throne room to the dining hall, the ballroom to the Fire Lord's private quarters, everything needed a refresh. She expected this kind of thing to be done back when the Fire Lord had first taken over, however, her services weren't requested until five years after his coronation.

Which is why she stood at the entrance, questioning why it took them so long to get someone in here. The poor Palace staff and the Fire Lord must be drowning in darkness and discomfort. Not to mention cowering in fear at Sozin, Azulon, and Ozai's deep glares within several portraits throughout.

She was busy having a staring contest with Ozai, which she was undoubtedly losing because he was terrifying to look at, when Iroh walked up and greeted her with a warm smile. The look immediately lit the room up, sending a comforting feeling from the top of her head to the bottom of her toes as if she had just dipped herself into the warm ocean to cool off.

"Ah! Miss (Y/N), thank you for your patience," he bowed causing her to return the sign of respect back, "I was just making sure my nephew was ready for our meeting today as well. He's just finishing up with the council, so we'll go on ahead without him and he can catch up," the older man winked before guiding her further into the Palace, "Please, tell me what you think so far, first impressions may not always be accurate, but they do tell quite a lot, especially when it comes to decoration," Iroh said as they walked.

Clearing her throat, (Y/N) tuned into her interior decorator mode. "I feel like I'm living in the Fire Palace from Sozin's time," she said, bluntly, however still with a hint of hope. "I feel like this Palace has most likely been causing the Fire Lord nothing but stress, as though it's a dark cloud looming over his head, watching his every move, almost like Ozai never left." Her voice calm and diplomatic, she had dealt with several Fire Nation officials before and no matter how often she tried to soften the blow, she was usually always dealt with backlash and anger over her honest opinion of the look.

Iroh, however, surprised her, and laughed with his whole body, resting his hands on his stomach for a moment, stopping their stride. "My dear, you are spot on!" This immediately caused (Y/N) to smile brightly, grateful that she was with a client who didn't seem to want to fight her every move. "Even when Ozai and I were boys growing up in the Palace here, we always felt as though we were living during Sozin's reign. Not that we believed that to be a bad thing at the time," he chuckled before continuing on down the hall.

The hallway led into the throne room, which was one of the biggest rooms in the Palace according to the layout that Iroh had given her during her interview with him. The only other room that was as large was the ballroom followed closely by the dining hall.

"This is where my nephew holds council with everyone in all four nations, whoever wants a seat with him. My brother, father, and grandfather stopped using it for that purpose and just became a place to dish out their royal decrees, banishing visitors that were not worthy." (Y/N) frowned listening to the history of this room. "My nephew likes this room to be where he listens and does very little talking, which I think is a wonderful sentiment to have." She nodded and began jotting down notes on her parchment.

There needed to be more light, some greenery added to liven up the place, possibly a little less fire around the throne itself, to seem more welcoming. Overall, the layout of the room was beautiful, it just needed some acceptance instead of deterrence.

Iroh led her toward the next room which appeared to be the ballroom. It was gorgeous, high ceilings with chandeliers, ready for their candles to be lit and make the glass sparkle, tall windows that went nearly from the floor to the ceiling providing a glorious view of the garden outside. Other than a couple of touch ups here and there, this room was incredible. However, it looked like it hadn't been used in centuries. Webs and dust littered the vast room, sheets covered small tables and seating areas and were yellowed with age.

"When my father took power, dancing and parties became nonexistent. He loathed people enjoying themselves, obviously because he did not. My nephew would like to throw a celebration after this redecoration, allowing all nations to come together and dance." Iroh smiled.

"Obviously it was more of a strong suggestion by the Dragon of the West, who rumor has it, excelled in dancing due to his bond with the dragons," a husky voice behind them added, causing the two to turn and find the Fire Lord standing behind them in his royal attire, with a small smirk on his face.

(Y/N) had seen beautiful interiors, gorgeous landscapes, sunsets, flowers, paintings, structures, and everything in between, however, her breath left her body the moment her eyes landed on the Fire Lord in person. He was a very handsome man, defined features and golden eyes that pierced any girl's heart.

This admiration, unfortunately, caused her to stare at him longer than normal, creating an awkward tension within the room. Beside her, Iroh cleared his throat, waking the girl from her trance on his nephew. She blushed furiously and bowed properly to the Fire Lord.

"Your Highness, my apologies, I wasn't expecting you this early," she whispered quickly attempting to cover her ogling with a valid reason, "I'm grateful that you have allowed me the opportunity to work on your home and make it something that you'll enjoy living within and celebrating for years to come." He smiled at her before turning to Iroh.

"It wasn't exactly my plan, as I said, the Dragon of the West is a very convincing man and deemed it necessary that since I was bringing a time of new, the Palace should reflect that." Iroh smirked.

"Please Fire Lord Zuko," Iroh said with a hint of snark in his voice, "I just couldn't bear to see you glare at the paintings of your father strewn everywhere and decided it was a time for change." Zuko blushed and sent a small glare at Iroh. "Plus, you're never going to woo any ladies with a Palace looking like this!" His statement caused (Y/N) to cover her mouth quickly and let out a giggle. Hearing the noise from her, Zuko's face burned darker, matching the Fire Nation red of his robes. "Anyway, my dear nephew, I must leave you at this time, you see it's nearly noon and I have a Pai Sho game to play with an old friend," he stepped back and bowed to both his nephew and (Y/N). "I'm sure you can take care of the rest of the tour and inform her on any changes you'd like. She's brilliant and really knows what she's doing so take everything she has to offer into account."

"Wait, you're not staying?" (Y/N) stopped him, nervously. Iroh smiled and shook his head.

"This isn't my home, it's his, he should be first hand in working with you. You're both smart and will definitely come up with something great together." Zuko's eyes were daggers as he looked at his Uncle. Iroh merely smirked before stepping away and back down the hallway she had originally met him in.

"I apologize for my Uncle, he's… eccentric, to say the least," the Fire Lord said with a frown. "I guess we should move on with the tour," he mumbled awkwardly before shuffling toward the room after the ballroom. The dining hall.

They traveled through the dining hall, the council chambers-as Zuko refused to call it the war room anymore, the spa rooms, a few bedrooms though they all looked the same according to the Fire Lord, several various hallways, where they finally ended, his bedroom.

(Y/N) had filled several parchments with notes and ideas for the Palace. She was already growing excited about the new plans and was ready to bring some life back into the Fire Nation's symbolic building.

"Not much needs to be done in here, to be honest, I don't use it for anything other than a place to sleep," he grumbled as he had essentially the entire tour. After Iroh had left, Zuko seemed unenthusiastic about showing her around and even less excited about her decorating anything.

"With all do respect, your Highness," she started, unable to bite her tongue this time, as she had the previous dozen times he said that he didn't need much done to the room, "that's a problem. Your bedroom should be a safe haven where you go to escape, especially with your job," her (Y/E/C) eyes narrowed in his direction, attempting to convey her seriousness about the situation. "This room is a comfort to you, not a grave to your father's previous sins." His single eyebrow cocked.

"With all do respect Miss…" it was then he realized he didn't know her name. Iroh had handled all the details, Zuko simply nodded his head and did as his uncle said.

"(Y/N)," she whispered somewhat defensively, ready for his retort.

"(Y/N)…" he repeated, "I have an escape in the Palace, though it may not be my bedroom like it seems to be for several of your clients, I can assure you, I'm not like them." He began to walk out of the bedroom, stopping only to turn back at her and nudge his head, signaling her to follow.

Confused, the decorator followed him back toward the ballroom and out into the garden. This view had caught her eye earlier when she was first in the ballroom with Iroh and now, finally getting a thorough look, she couldn't help but stare at the area in awe.

A large tree sat in the center of the zen place, a tiny pond full of quacking turtle ducks swimming happily within. Several other trees and flower bushes littered the area, with small fountains and statues around. It was serene and tranquil, calm seemed to wash over her instantly as she took in her surroundings, admiring the wonderful atmosphere that the garden provided.

Zuko led her toward the pond where he crouched down to rub the head of one of the turtle ducks with the back of his index finger. The duckling quacked and nuzzled closer to his touch instinctively. As the other turtle ducks saw this, they began swimming toward, looking for their own affection from the Fire Lord as well.

(Y/N) couldn't help but stare at the interaction before her, amazed at how the Fire Lord's demeanor changed rapidly. He seemed at peace and happy in this moment just spending time with ducklings in the garden.

"You see, miss (Y/N), while others escape to their bedrooms, I find myself coming here where I can be calm with my thoughts," he smirked up at her as he pat the last turtle duck on the head and then straightened up. With a sigh, she nodded her head, understanding what he meant now. "I do, however, agree, that my room needs more of a makeover than I initially suggested. You're welcome to do with it as you will, just make sure my belongings are taken care of properly." She looked up at him hopeful that he was okay with her being there.

Smiling, she moved toward the tree next to the pond and plopped down. It wasn't quite as ladylike as Zuko expected, like he had witnessed his mother, Mai, Azula, and Ty Lee do, but he couldn't help but smile and follow her lead, sitting down beside her. As she began handing him papers with notes, he watched as she animatedly talked about what she was going to do with each room and how it was supposed to make him feel more comfortable.

"For a Nation about light and the sun, your Palace has very little of it," she started, pointing at sketches she had apparently made as they walked of the different rooms, "I think removing the coverings on the windows and allowing more light to come in will be great. Plus, the sun makes Firebenders feel better, so why wouldn't they want more of it?" Zuko nodded, realizing that it made a lot of sense. "Then your people will be able to see you better instead of the dark shadow that Ozai assumingly was previous." Her casual use of his father's name seemed to shock him, but he didn't say anything and continued to listen. "If they see your face, they'll feel they can trust you more, you're not a bad man to look at either and that could possibly help you in the department General Iroh was requesting which was a new lady friend." She rushed through quickly.

Zuko held up his hand to stop her, "Contrary to what my uncle says, I don't need a woman to make me happy." He said, "I'm doing just fine all on my own." This caused her to stare at him for a few moments in deep thought and Zuko couldn't help but wonder what was going through her head. She seemed to be lost in herself for a moment before her vision returned and she realized she had been staring intently at the Fire Lord.

With a small shake of her head, she focused normally back on him, "I'm sorry, um… yes you're right, you don't need a woman, I was just trying to help." She mumbled before looking down at her papers awkwardly. Zuko handed her back the ones that he had been given and smiled.

"These look great (Y/N), why don't we start tomorrow on it? I will approve anything you want to do," he said trying to reassure the girl who had what felt like an emotional moment from his words.

"No, let me do this right, especially with the Palace. I will return with better sketches tomorrow and then if everything is approved I can bring in a team to start clearing out rooms. We'll do them one by one so you're not without the entire Palace for a couple of weeks," she said, watching as he stood up and held out his hand for her to take. Gently she pressed her palm to his and goosebumps ran up her arm at the shockingly warm contact. He smiled as he helped her to her feet, waiting several moments before leading her hand back to her side and slipping it from his grasp. "Thank you for this opportunity your Highness, you have no idea how excited I am to be able to help you feel like this is your home," she repeated her earlier sentiment with a long bow.

"Zuko," he said bluntly, causing her to look up at him from her bow. Her eyebrow cocked slightly and he couldn't help but smirk at the emotion written across her face. "Call me Zuko, none of this your Highness formality."

With reddened cheeks she smiled and nodded her head. He led her back into the ballroom and toward the entrance to the Palace. "Tomorrow then?" she asked as they reached the grand doorway.

"Tomorrow," he said, looking at her intently. "I'm interested to see what you bring me (Y/N)," he bowed to her.

She returned the bow with one final word for farewell, "Zuko." Her lips formed a smirk that Zuko couldn't stop his eyes from studying for as long as he could before she turned and made her way down the steps, internally wondering why this job made her feel all fuzzy inside.

I hope you guys liked it! Please let me know! Thanks!

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vecnawrites · 4 years

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A Sister’s Temptation, Chapter 1

Knight Jaune Arc is in desperate need of solace, so goes to the local church for confession. Sister Pyrrha of the Sisters of Beacon has always felt for the blonde knight, can she resist temptation?

(Posted on AO3 (same name as here) with art from Owl_pie!

Knight Jaune Arc made his way into the church, heart heavy with worry and anxiety. Even though all of his training made him one of the most skilled knights in the village of Ansel, he still worried about the Grimm. They never made things easy. Fortunately there had been no losses in several weeks.

But the last...had been saddening. An elderly woman, one in her seventies. While everyone said he should feel no guilt, having been helping the neighboring town when the attack happened, he still felt like it was his fault for not being there, like he could have done something…

That’s why he was going to the church. He knew confessing and getting advice from the priest or the sisters would help. It always did.

Inside the church, Sister Pyrrha Nikos’ eyes brightened as she saw her favorite blonde enter the church. She had always held a flame for him since they had been children, but unfortunately, never had the courage to confess before she had been asked to join the sisterhood. But the feelings remained, and indeed, only became even stronger as the years passed and he grew into the strong knight she knew he could be.

Oh, she knew it was wrong to lust, so wrong, and pleaded to God for forgiveness nightly as she committed the sin of masturbation, her fingers running through her folds as she instead imagined her strong knight’s fingers, tongue and even cock exploring her sacred garden, spreading her slick wetness around, moaning into a pillow as she brought herself to shameful completion, imagining herself wrapped in his arms as she drifted off to sleep.

“Careful, sister,” she heard a voice distantly chastise her, and turned to see Sisters Sustrai and Politan looking at her in amusement. “Get any thirstier and we’ll have to pour holy water on you.” Pyrrha flushed, but knew that the two wouldn’t inform Mother Superior Goodwitch and get her into trouble. After all, both Emerald and Neo had been taken in from the streets, both having been stealing and selling their own bodies in order to survive. “But it looks like your man wants to confess...you’d better hurry, otherwise Schnee or Rose will get him!”

Leaving her giggling sisters behind (curse their traitorous mindsets), Pyrrha hurried up, concern filling her breast as she saw the tired, almost haunted look on the face of the man she loved. But she smiled sweetly at him, hoping to ease his heart a bit. “Hello, Knight Arc,” her heart twisted in bitter sourness at being forced to address the one she loved in such a manner, but there were too many people around.

Despite the heaviness of his heart, Jaune couldn’t help but smile as Sister Nikos, one of his oldest friends, come up to him, although he would admit it did sting to hear his formal title come out of her mouth. “Hello, Sister Nikos...is Father Ozpin or Mother Superior Goodwitch in?” his heart sank as she shook her head.

“No, I’m sorry, but they’re on pilgrimage to the neighboring towns, performing weddings and last rites...perhaps there is something I can help you with?” Pyrrha asked, hoping that her love would allow her to sooth his worries.

“I...I wished to confess to one of them, but I don’t wish to bother you with my troubles…” Jaune began, only to blink several times as Pyrrha grabbed his right hand in both of hers, looking at him intensely, her emerald eyes staring into his cerulean.

“There’s no need for that line of thought, Knight Arc! Please, follow me. I will gladly take your confession and ease your burdens.” Pyrrha began to gently lead her oldest friend along the path to the confessional, trying desperately to ignore the rapid fluttering in her breast.

Jaune himself, was fighting the heat that wanted to rise within his cheeks. He knew that it was wrong to lust, especially after a sister of all things, but he couldn’t help himself. He had known most of these sisters since they were all small children, but Pyrrha...Pyrrha was special. She was his first real crush, and he had hoped to court her...but she and most of his and her female friends in their age group had been chosen to join the “Sisters Of Beacon”.

Unbidden, his eyes drifted down, pants tightening as the nun’s robe Pyrrha wore was rather...flattering, to say the least, clinging tightly to her full backside, the round swells of her rear jiggling lightly as she walked.

His pants began to strain as he watched, making him tear his eyes away in a panic, his blue eyes darting back and forth, praying that no one caught that. He could not be seen lusting after a sister! He groaned mentally. That was another sin to confess, and to the woman he was showing lust to, to boot!

Coming up to the confessional booth, Pyrrha turned and smiled sweetly at Jaune. “Here we are, Knight Arc. Please enter.” she tilted her head as she saw the flush on his face, wondering what that was from, before entering and closing the door behind her.

The small stall surrounded her, the must of pine and incense filling her nose, the only two fixtures a small latticed ‘window’ (more for aesthetic than anything) and a circular hole to allow the confessor and the priest or sister to communicate easier. Hearing the shuffling and muffled clanks of Jaune’s armor as he sat down, Pyrrha placed her hand on her breast and tried to calm her rapidly pounding heart. “Speak, and tell me of your sorrows.” she said, placing her hand on the wall and imagining what the man she loved looked like on the other side, his downcast eyes, his pinched brow, the twitching muscle next to his mouth. Her heart ached at the thought.

Jaune swallowed, lacing his hands together as he imagined Pyrrha sitting down on the bench, looking so much more beautiful than any nun should, the robe she wore tight around her body, stretching around her bust and her bottom, those full lips...he shook his head forcefully to get those images out of his head, but to his dismay, he was fully hard, his erect shaft pressing against the inside of his pants, tenting them outwards. He would have to stay in here until it softened.

Hearing Pyrrha’s words, he jerked in place, fumbling through his thoughts. “I...forgive me, Sister, for I have sinned.” he began with the traditional confessional greeting. And god, had he just sinned not moments ago. But he would start with the problem he had initially come for help with: dealing with the guilt.

“I...I feel guilt over the last Grimm attack. I know people say I shouldn’t-” he heard a soft sigh from next to him. “And they are right...you shouldn’t.”

Pyrrha placed her hand on the wall again, desperately wishing that it was her love’s face, but she would make do with her words for now. “Miss Calavera lived a very long, very happy life. It is true what happened was tragic, but I was there to give her last rites. She told me that she had lived a very long life, and wasn’t afraid. She was happy that it was her, rather than one of the children, and that she would get to see her own family once more. Please, June, do not feel guilt over not being here...Maria wouldn’t want you to.” Pyrrha desperately wished to reach out and hold Jaune's hand, but the blasted wood prevented her.

Jaune sighed softly, feeling his spirit lift as he heard of Maria Calavera's final words. His lips tweaked upwards. "T-thank you, Sister Nikos...I...I guess that's all I needed to truly hear."

But that relief was ruined by the second part of the confession he would have to make...that he had lusted after her. He hoped that she wouldn't think him a filthy deviant and never want to speak to him again.

Pyrrha smiled, happy that she had eased her loved one's heart. "I'm so glad I was able to help you...is there anything else you need to confess?"

Jaune grit his teeth. This was it. "I am dealing with problems concerning...lust." he hated the fact that he practically growled the last word, but god, his cock ached! "Particularly when I am desiring someone I truly shouldn't."

Pyrrha gasped, bringing her hand up to her mouth. Jaune was listing after someone? Who? The shock retreated to reveal a nasty pang of pain and the burn of jealousy, but she tempered it and forced it down. Jaune needed her. "When did you first notice these feelings?" her voice was soft, as though making sure she didn't scare a frightened animal. Her tone also served to cover her own feelings.

"I...I think these feelings have always been there...but I only noticed them very recently...and only acknowledged them today."

Jaune squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. This was it. "I have been lusting after you, Pyrrha." there. He said it.

Pyrrha's eyes were wide, her mouth open in a silent 'o'...her thighs rubbing together from the sudden influx of heat between her thighs from this knowledge. She roughly swallowed. This might be the chance to actually get what she fantasized about...

Before she could speak, Jaune continued, his voice becoming more panicked. "I know it's wrong, so wrong, you're a Sister, and I shouldn't dare-"

"Jaune." Pyrrha spoke firmly, knowing that she had to take control of the situation, before it got too out of hand.

The knight cringed at the firm tone, but stopped speaking, knowing she deserved to say her piece. "You are correct, this lust is a problem…" he winced more, "So we are going to take steps to mitigate it." he blinked. What did Pyrrha mean?

Taking a deep breath as she rubbed her core through her thick robe and panties, Pyrrha licked her lips and said, "I want you to open your pants, and show me the effects the lust I have stirred within you caused."

Jaune's eyes bulged as he heard Pyrrha's words. "B-but Sis-sister!" he stuttered. He shivered as he heard a firm noise.

"I have caused lust within you and forced you to sin, Jaune. It is therefore my duty to fix it. Open your pants."

Swallowing, Jaune rose to his feet and turned, unbuckling his belt and loosening his trousers. Lowering them a bit, his erect shaft sprung out, and despite himself and the situation, he groaned in relief. His cock was angry, his balls heavy and hanging beneath.

"I heard that, Jaune! It's getting worse, place yourself through the hole so I can help cleanse you of your pent up lust!"

Jaune swallowed, and taking a deep breath, moved towards the hole and slowly slipped his cock through it.

Pyrrha watched with bated breath as Jaune’s shaft entered her side of the confessional, her heart pounding hard and her breathing getting fast and shallow as it moved further and further in, the thick pillar of flesh arching slightly upwards, the veins prominent, the head an angry dark red. It was bigger than she had imagined in her head, and she slipped off of the bench, kneeling before it, her nose twitching as she smelled his powerful, enticing scent, a rich musk that filled the small area. Placing her left hand on the wall next to the hole, Pyrrha gently reached out and grasped the thick flesh.

Both gasped in unison.

Jaune fought not to buck his hips against the wall and alert anyone outside, biting her lip and grunting as Sister-as Pyrrha’s ever-so-soft hand cupped his erection, her slim fingers curling around his swollen flesh, his fingers rolling and curling against his palms, making fists against the thin wood. “Sister, please forgive me…” he gasped, eyes rolling back in his head.

Pyrrha, on the other hand, could feel herself soaking her undergarments as she gently held the hot, almost burning, flesh in her palm. She felt a rapid beat against her hand, his heartbeat, she realized, slowly beginning to stroke it. A soft, but throaty groan met her, making her smile.

“Don’t worry, young knight...you just need to trust me...I’ll get all of that pent up lust out of you, I promise.” Pyrrha smiled softly, her cheeks flushed and eyes hooded. She began to stroke gently in earnest, watching in amazement as clear fluid began to bead at the tip and weep, her palm catching it and making the glide of her hand smoother.

She knew what it was. Precum, Jaune was aroused by her actions and responding. How did she know this? The resident reformed thieves/prostitutes, of course. They had given her far more information than she had ever wanted to know, but in this moment, she found herself grateful for the knowledge.

She stroked him further, with more energy, her own breathing and the heat between her thighs growing as Jaune’s moans grew louder and longer in intensity. “Pyrrha...oh, God, Pyrrha…” she squirmed as Jaune’s voice, the voice of the man she loved, said her name with such passion.

“That’s it, Jaune…” she gently encouraged as she rubbed his flesh, “Let it all out...cleanse yourself of your lust.” she murmured. ‘Not for me, though, never for me…’ she never wanted Jaune to stop desiring her, even if she was a Sister. Recalling more of Emerald and Neo’s talks, she knew that Jaune would cum, and it would be messy, especially depending on how long it had been since he had ‘gotten off’, and it would have to go somewhere.

Blushing brightly, Pyrrha took her free hand off of the wall and reached to her waist, brining her top up slowly, exposing the smooth expanse of her belly and with a forceful tug, her large breasts, her nipples already stiff as she bared her upper half to the small room. She liked to imagine Jaune could see them, his eyes looking at her body in lust and awe.

As she placed her hand back on the wood, she continued to stoke Jaune, she recalled one final tidbit of ‘advice’ from Emerald and Neo: that men loved it when lips and tongue were involved, but that it usually tasted horrible. She looked down, nervously licking her lips, before leaning her head down…

Jaune rested his forehead against the confessional wall, taking deep breaths to keep himself from breaking too early. On some level, even though he knew that this was only meant to be of help for his lust, he couldn’t keep himself from trying to impress Pyrrha with his stamina, even though, like her, he had never done anything like this before.

He closed his eyes and imagined Pyrrha kneeling before him, gently holding his cock, looking up at him with those beautiful green eyes-his balls churned, wanting to release everything they had backed up within them, but he couldn’t do that. That would cover Pyrrha in his cum, and she would be ruined when the other sisters either recognized what it was on her, or got too inquisitive and asked-his eyes snapped open and nearly popped out of their sockets as something warm and wet touched the head of his cock.

Pyrrha smiled as her tongue moved away from the head of his shaft. 'That wasn't bad at all!' she realized. It didn't taste bitter, or any of the other unpleasant things that Emerald and Neo had described. In fact it was rather...sweet?

She licked his head again, getting that same taste, as well as that same intense gasp from Jaune. God, she squirmed in place, this was so sinful, but she couldn't stop!

She began to kiss and lick the leaking tip as she pumped the pale flesh, the moans and whimpers she received music to her ears.

Jaune wanted to hold out, he truly did, but this felt too good! He scrambled, he needed to at least warn Pyrrha. "Pyrrha, I'm...oh, God...cumming!" he gasped, his world going blank as pleasure threatened to overwhelm him. “A-AAHHH~!”

Hearing Jaune's desperate warning, Pyrrha straightened and began to stroke Jaune's shaft fiercely, aiming the tip for her bare breasts.

She shivered as the flesh within her palm throbbed mightily, before spitting out stream after stream of hot, thick, sticky fluid onto the swells of her bosom. Even then, some hit her face, coating her cheeks and dripping down her chin as well.

Her core throbbed with want beneath her skirt, the air around her legs hot and humid, the perfume of her own desire becoming noticeable in her booth. “Aahh…” she could hear Jaune’s relieved gasping through the thin wood, making her smile. “All sins are forgiven…” she murmured.

Finally as the spurts of fluid lessened and became mere trickles, Pyrrha leaned forwards again, gently licking away the excess, kissing the head as the shaft of flesh began to soften.

She smiled. "The first stage of treatment is complete." she said happily, carefully pulling down her top and shivering slightly as the 'cum' (as Emerald and Neo called it) smeared across her breasts. She then used her fingers to wipe her cheeks and chin off and after a moments thought, licked them clean, smiling at the fact that he did taste sweet, far better than she envisioned.

Feeling his cock finally softening, Jaune's mouth dropped, not only as he fully registered what just happened, but Pyrrha's words. "F-First stage?" he whispered, slowly pulling his cock back and tucking it into his pants.

Pyrrha smiled. "Of course! With lust as powerful as yours, you can't expect one treatment to cure it! From now on, whenever you feel lust, I want you to think of me, and at your soonest convenience, come and find me for another confession. I will happily do my duty as a Sister to help cleanse you of your sins."

Jaune and Pyrrha walked to the front of the Church in comfortable silence, Jaune taking furtive glances at his oldest friend, the girl he had come to love.

Smiling at her love as he stood at the door, Pyrrha waved lightly as he smiled at her before leaving through the door with a lighter heart.

Pyrrha smiled softly, glad that she had helped the man she loved...but for now she turned, feeling her soaking wet undergarments shift against her core. For now, she needed to go and help herself.

"Ahh!" Pyrrha moaned into her pillow as she lay naked, chest first onto it, her rear in the air as her fingers rubbed and delved into her wet, sticky core, her viscous essence coating her slim digits as she brought herself to the height of pleasure. "Yes! Jaune, please! EEK!" Pyrrha trembled as she reached the crescendo of pleasure, her naked body going limp on her bed, hand still cupping her core.

As she relaxed, a wicked thought entered her mind. She was helping Jaune relieve his lust, shouldn't he be kind enough to do the same for her? It wouldn't do for a sister to fall to temptation, after all…

A sultry smile formed on her lips and her hand began to twitch against her core again. That was a wonderful idea...one she would bring up when Jaune came for his next 'treatment'...

#Jaune Arc #Pyrrha Nikos #Arkos #Emerald Sustrai #Neopolitan #Glynda Goodwitch #Ozpin #Nun!Pyrrha #Knight!Jaune #cross posted on AO3

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chaseatinydream · 4 years

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pirate king (84) || atz

The blade comes down.

The second you feel it pierce, you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, unable to see with your own eyes the gentle expression your captain wears as you drive the knife into his neck. Your eyes brun, a silent scream trapped in your throat as your hands tremble around the knife.

You couldn’t stop it. Your foolish, kindhearted, loving captain really did decide to die in order to save you. You couldn’t overpower the control the sea spirit had over you, and now your captain is-

“Chin Hae.”

Your eyes fly open in shock.

Hongjoong is still lying on the ground, propped up against the wall, breaths escaping him in shallow pants. But instead of his neck, you realise that your knife has pierced the bookshelf next to his head, the blade sinking hilt deep into the pages of a book. Blood streams down from a shallow cut at the side of his neck, but his eyes still burn with the same fire as ever.

“You said you were going to die for her?” The sea spirit’s words that leave your mouth carry a hint of surprise, and your own shock is reflected in them. But Hongjoong merely ignores her, one hand reaching up to grip your wrist.

His hand is painfully gentle, and his gaze doesn’t waver from yours.

“I never said that.” Hongjoong’s words come out completely steady and resolute. His fingers tighten around your wrist. “If Chin Hae really wanted me to die for her, I would have done it in a heartbeat without any hesitation. But she doesn’t want me to.”

He lifts his other hand to touch your face, fingertips brushing under your eyes, and it’s only then that you realise hot tears are streaming down your cheeks. Hongjoong’s eyes soften at the sight of it. “I made you cry again.”

“You foolish mortal.” The sea spirit speaks through your mouth, and Hongjoong’s gaze instantly hardens once more. “I was going to give you a painless death, but it seems as though you’ve refused my mercy. Now, I can promise you that I will not be as kind as Eorthe is towards humans.”

Much to your horror, your hand begins moving of its own accord again, and you raise the blade into the air once more. This time, however, Hongjoong grips your wrist tight, unrelenting even when bruises burn into your skin. Yanking you towards him, your foreheads collide almost painfully, and when you look up, his single green eye burns too close into yours.

“Chin Hae, listen to me.” Hongjoong murmurs softly, speaking over the sound of the sea goddess screaming in your mind. “This is something only you can do - the sea spirit chose to possess your body. I won’t - no, I can’t kill you. So you need to get her to leave your body somehow, in a way that no one else is able to.”

You blink at him in confusion. You, get the sea goddess to leave your body? But your captain is the one with the sea voodoo powers, not you, and-

However, now that you think about it, from the very beginning there had been signs all about you that alluded to who, or what you truly were. From your first meeting with the Kraken to the unearthly strength you had summoned a few days ago, you realise that the sea goddess has been speaking the truth all along.

She is you. You are her. The two of you are one.

Biting on your lower lip, you shut your eyes, calling out to her deep in your mind. She responds instantly to you, rising up from the depths that you’ve kept her hidden in since the very day you had opened your eyes in that prison cell, blue gaze shifting like the swell of the waves in the middle of the storm. When they meet yours, a shudder runs through you - it’s like you’re looking in a mirror.

“Why...” You finally ask the one question that has been clinging to your lips for a while now. “Why did you... make me?”

The sea goddess’ eyes narrow, and one of her hands reach up to cup your face, brushing the pad of her thumb over your cheek. Under her ministrations, you can almost feel yourself disintegrating, but her fingers are surprisingly cool to the touch, devoid of any human warmth.

“Because that boy asked me for a name.” Her voice whispers, soft as the cries of seagulls in the distance, the soothing roll of the ocean waves. “Because I wanted to be called by others. Because someone wanted to call me, and someone needed me. Because I wanted...”

She doesn’t speak the word aloud, but you know what it is that she desires deep down. You’ve spent the entirety of your temporal life looking for it, and you’ve finally found it.

Love.

You think back to the crew, the memories you’ve made together. The way they embrace you and take care of you, the way their love for you shines in the purest of forms even in this violent and dangerous world. You grip her hands tightly in yours.

While hers are cold, yours are warm. The little flames of their love have long since spread to you, warming you up from within until you burn with your own fire. You take a deep breath and speak.

“I have it.”

The sea goddess looks up at you with those ancient blue eyes, and you grip her as tightly as you can, wishing that in some way you could warm those cold hands with your own.

“What you were looking for this entire time, the reason you created me. I found it. Love.” The words tumble from your lips without hesitation, and the sea goddess’ lips part in surprise. “And it’s something I’d be willing to give up my life for. It’s so...” You struggle to find the words to describe it to her, and a tear falls from your eye. “It’s so warm, you know?”

“Warm?” She echoes your words, and you nod so fast you feel like your head is about to fall off, trying to convey to her just how precious being loved feels like. Nothing in the world could make you give this up, not even your own life.

“So please...” you say, voice thick from emotion. Her blue eyes meet yours, and you see your own tears reflected in them. “Don’t make me give it up. Stop hurting the people who love me.”

“But we’ll die.”

You smile through your tears. “And turning back into the sea goddess would be death in itself for me.” You say shakily, and her hands cradle your face gently to wipe the tears from your eyes. “Please... let me die the way I am. As a human, who is loved.”

The sea goddess remains silent for a long moment of time, eternity suspended between the two of you in the darkness of your mind. Faintly, in the back of your mind, you hear seagulls calling, the soft hum of sirens singing, the sound of waves washing over a beach. You know who you truly are now.

“Silly mortal.” She finally says, and you blink up at her in surprise. Her own eyes are shiny with tears, although she wears a small, tender smile on her face that you’ve never seen before. “My plan was for you to fall in love with a mortal and have his soul flow into your body through the sacred bond of marriage, all without you knowing to keep the rituals pure of selfish influence and based solely off love. But you just had to be perceptive and figure out what you truly were.” Her hand rests on your head. “You’ve done so well as a mortal, Sær.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, and now tears slip fast from your own eyes. “I didn’t mean to be that smart.”

“It’s too late for apologies now.” The sea goddess pulls you into an embrace, and you wrap your arms around her tightly. You’re going to die, but for some reason now, it doesn’t seem as scary as you thought it would be. “If this is your choice, then we’ll see it to the end as one.”

Right before your eyes, she begins to dissolve into sea foam in your arms, slipping away and vanishing from sight. All of a sudden, you fall into a stormy sea of ancient memories, millennium upon millennium of wandering the oceans, eons of watching the rise and fall of civilizations from afar. The storms you’ve brought, the shipwrecks you’ve dragged to the bottom of the sea, and a single one eyed boy on a beach.

You almost lose yourself to these memories, surging over you, overflowing - until a hand pulls on yours, an anchor, reminding you that someone is still at the other side.

He’s still waiting for you to come back.

The sound of something clattering to the ground stuns you out of your stupor.

When your eyes blink open, you look down to see the knife lying on the floor of the cabin. You attempt to wriggle the fingers of your one good hand, and your mouth falls open in shock when they actually do move according to your wishes.

“Captain, look! I did it!” You say excitedly, turning to look at Hongjoong, but the second you see him, your breath catches in your throat. He’s looking at you with such a painfully fond expression that you almost need to shy away from his gaze, and you swallow, opening your mouth to speak again. “Captain, I-”

He reaches out with one arm, and pulls you into his embrace. For a second, you can’t breathe, nose pressed into his shoulder and the gentle warmth of his body surrounding yours. “I know.” His voice is hoarse, spilling over with emotion. “Good job, Chin Hae. I knew you could do it.”

The two of you remain in that position for a while, until Hongjoong draws away with a stern expression on his face. “Now, don’t you have something to tell me?”

You tilt your head to the side, too close to him to actually think straight. Now that you’re not on the verge of sobbing, you realise that you’re so close that the scent of him surrounds you - ink and steel and sea salt on the tip of your tongue. “N-no?” You manage to stammer out, making to pull away from him, your cheeks suddenly burning hot. He doesn’t let you go, however, one corner of his mouth pulling up into a small smirk, before the expression on his face turns into something more serious.

“What was all that about you dying?”

Ah. Swallowing, you sit back on your haunches, looking back at the door. It’s still closed. Is it too late for you to start running now?

“Chin Hae.” His hands wrap around yours, and you bite your lower lip. “Tell me.”

It’s not a command, but you spill everything to him anyway. From the very beginning about how you started to suffer from nosebleeds, to how your hand fell off, to the pain that you now feel in your legs. And the entire time, Hongjoong listens to you with a calm expression on his face, not interrupting you as you speak.

“So... now that you know I’m dying...” you say hesitantly, looking up at your captain’s face to see what kind of expression he’ll make. “Do you think it’d be a better idea to hand me in to the Royal Navy instead?”

At your words, Hongjoong immediately shakes his head without hesitation. “Don’t be silly.” He scolds you, and you blink at him in confusion. He laughs at your expression and raps his knuckles against your forehead lightly. “See, this is what I meant by I know what you’re like - that spirit that took over your body got you completely wrong.”

You pout. “Well... that’s different. I’m being serious here! I don’t have much longer to live, so even if you hand me over to the Royal Navy-”

“Let me stop you right there.” Hongjoong holds a finger up to your lips, a smile on his face and a gleam in his eye. “Since when did how long you have left to live change how much you mean to me?”

“But-”

“Not the mention, the crew would certainly mutiny if I even suggested such a thing.” An amused laugh falls from his lips, and you smile. “I only have one eye left and I’m really not interested in getting marooned again on another island, so,” he draws you closer in his embrace. “I will definitely not be giving you up without a fight, and I’m sure the rest of the crew would agree with me.”

Perhaps a while ago you would have argue, but after that encounter with the sea goddess, you understand - that love would surpass even the base human instinct of self preservation - it’s what sets humans apart from the rest of creation.

So you take a deep breath, and hold up a pinky to him. “Make a promise with me?”

Hongjoong looks surprised at your words, raising an eyebrow. “Haven’t we had quite enough bad experiences with promises already?” But still, he raises his hand to wrap around yours, blinking down at your joined hands.

You nod solemnly. “I know. But that promise was you telling me not to die, which was totally unfair on your part.” Hongjoong lets out a short bark of laughter. “So promise me... that tomorrow won’t be end.”

Hongjoong raises an eyebrow at that. “Tomorrow... won’t be the end?”

You nod earnestly. “That no matter what happens tomorrow,” if you die, your existence will be wiped clean like a blank slate “that the crew will find its way to be together. Regardless of where we are, or how we’re doing, or how far apart we are. No matter what, we’ll find our way to each other somehow.”

You close your eyes, pressing his hands to your forehead, almost as if you’re beseeching the Fates to listen to your request. The same Fate that led you up the gangplank of the Treasure. The same Fate that had marooned him on that island, that had put all of this into motion. Please, don’t let us come apart.

Because we’re family.

Hongjoong looks at you for a long moment, before he smiles and squeezes your little pinky with his. His expression is impossibly tender.

“We have been, and will always be.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w; pirate king #w; ot8 #w; fanfiction

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awkwxrdapple · 4 years

Text

“I’m Ok” - Peter Parker (Soulmate AU) Imagine

Summary: When Peter falls through the reader’s window, hurt and wearing the Spiderman suit, the reader learns two things. One that Peter Parker is Spiderman, and the other that she has a soulmate. (The lore of this specific soulmate AU is explained in the imagine :))

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mentions of blood (Peter is hurt)

Peter had gone missing again.

How he managed to skip so much class, and still remain at the top, astounded you. Yes, you were at Midtown too, so were naturally clever and bright, but you found you still had to put the effort in with studying to make sure you had the grades you wanted.

He should have been in Physics with you this period. But his seat behind you was empty. You tried to focus on the practical that was part of your final grade, but you kept wondering and worrying, where Peter was. Why was he skipping class? His enthusiasm for learning has always been obvious throughout the time you'd been friends with him. Ever since the first day of high school when you'd both gone for the same seat in Math class, and he conceded graciously and let you take it, moving for a seat further back in the classroom. It was a weird encounter, rather awkward but at the same time... cute? You and him had become friends, along with Ned. Peter and Ned were very close, as you would expect two male best friends to be, but you and Peter were also close in your own way too. You couldn't imagine high school without him. And now, yet again, you were staring at his vacant seat.

After that period had finished, you found Ned at his locker in the hallway. He had Spanish with Peter next, so maybe he knew something. Maybe he knew that Peter would be back. You greeted him normally and then hit him with the question at hand.

"Ned have you seen Peter today?"

"Yeah I did first thing this morning, but I havent since. Why?" He asked, swapping a textbook from his locker to his bag.

"He wasn't in Physics." You state. "He's missing a lot these days. I'm worried about him."

You didn't mind admitting that. And you knew that probably Ned was too, if he didn't already know what was going on. But Ned's frown at what you had just said led you to believe that he knew as little as you did.

"I am too." He says, confirming your thoughts. "Whenever I ask him about it though, he just says he needs time off sometime. And he doesn't seem upset by anything, so I hope everything is fine."

You hoped everything was fine too. But this time you don't say it, just ponder silently on what Ned's said. You agree that Peter doesn't seem upset at all. If anything, he seems to have more energy. He still looks tired from time to time, but he seems to have more bounce in his step. Like he's been exercising more or something. Maybe that's what it is, Peter's decided he doesn't want to sit in a classroom for hours on end even though he enjoys learning, and that he'd rather be out running or something.

"Anyway, I'll see you later Y/N." Ned says with a smile, and trots off behind you to Spanish. You turn to your locker after watching him leave, and pull you gym bag from it. You go straight to the changing rooms as you might already be late after talking to Ned. As you expected, you are, as the changing rooms are deserted as everyone seems to already be in the gym.

Throwing your bag down onto the bench in front of your other locker, you realise how much time you had spent today thinking about Peter. You thought you were just worried about where he was, so you tried to stop worrying. But telling yourself to stop worrying was like telling a giraffe to stop being incredibly tall.

You pull off the shirt you were wearing and folded it to put into your locker. You caught a brief glimpse of your reflection in the mirror in the door. Your hair was already tied up off your face, you preferred it that way, made it more practical. But on your chest, right over your heart, were two words etched into your skin.

Soul-marks appeared sometime during childhood. No-one had yet worked out why, or when exactly they would appear for each person. It seemed to be random in timing, and showed no distinct pattern. Yours had appeared a few days after your eight birthday. You had overheard your parents discussing it one evening when they thought you were in bed. Neither could work out why then, and as you had yours so young, you didn't really notice it for most of the time.

They are sentences, or words, that are spoken by your soulmate to you, at the moment you realise you're in love with them. You're meant to know instantly that they're the one, apparently you just know.

Yours was staring back at you now in the mirror of your locker.

I'm ok.

You had always thought that was an odd mark, not that you had seen many others. People generally tended to keep theirs private, like it was a sacred thing that should only be shared between them and their soulmate, which you has figured made sense. But you had heard of peoples being their names, or lucky for others, their soulmates names. Some were dull sentences, some were peculiar.

You finished changing by pulling the shirt over your head and down your chest to cover your mark, and headed into the gym.

The rest of the day went fairly quickly considering your mind was wandering elsewhere. You tried to focus on the rest of your lessons but nothing was going in like it normally does. You couldn't throw yourself properly into anything.

As soon as the final bell of the day went, you started home and sent Peter a few texts on your way. You asked if he was ok, and if did need anything, that you would want to help.

You received no reply. You had eaten dinner and had studied for hours and nothing had come back from him. You hoped he wasn't sick. But it was unlike Peter to be sick. You kept trying to think of reasons but you just ended up going round and round in circles.

The sun had set over the buildings by the time you stopped working. The sky had turned an inky blue , but not black, the sky never turned black properly in New York because of all the lights. You had been so engrossed that you hadn't shut your curtains. Closing your textbooks and stacking them neatly again, you walked over to do so. But as you reached up something, or someone, fell to cling onto your windowpane.

You let out a strangled yelp before seeing who was there. You fumbled quickly with the lock on the window to open it. Peter was hauling himself up to sit precariously on your window sill... in the Spiderman suit.

Even though it was fairly dark, you could see he was injured. He really didn't look good. He didn't have the mask on, Peter is Spiderman... and he was clutching it in his hand. He had dirt all over him.

"Peter?!" To say you were shocked was an understatement. And you heard it evident in your voice. You could hear how startled and concerned you were.

He rolled off your window sill and landed on the floor with a loud thud. You winced because you hoped you parents didn't hear and then come to investigate, and also did Peter just hurt himself more? He already seemed so battered. Him falling literally through your window won't do him any favours.

He lay on your floor his facial features contorted into a grimace, showing you how much pain he was in. He was clutching his left shoulder with his right hand. Now he was in the light of your room, you could see a faint trickle of blood was seeping from under his collar bone there too, as well as half his suit being torn away from his skin. The initial shock of Peter being Spiderman has dissipated. You had no time to worry about that now because of his current condition. You could talk to him about that later. Right now, he needed your help.

You leant down onto the floor next to him, and carefully moved his right hand to further down his body so you could have a better look at what you were dealing with. You started to a feel an unfamiliar burning sensation in your chest, which you quickly realised was emotional pain for Peter being so hurt. It physically hurt you to see him in so much pain. You couldn't bare to look at his face as it just reminded you of that. So you kept focused on your task.

His suit was pealing away from itself and him. Leaving open to the air a flesh wound seeping blood slowly, which was good all things considered as it didn't look too deep. The blood could have been coming out much faster. And it was seeming to stop as if it had already begun clotting quickly to seal the wound. The skin that wasn't covered in blood, was bruised purple, which you guessed was causing Peter most of the pain.

"I need to get to you shoulder." You said as gently and softly as you could. You wanted Peter to trust you and allow you to care for him. But seen as he had turned up at your window, you hoped he already did.

You went to carefully remove some of the torn suit to get a better look when Peter spoke.

"I'm ok." He said, voice cracked from the pain he was experiencing, but it was so soft, and vulnerable.

Before he had even finished speaking you felt it. A strong surge of energy flowing right through your body, and coming to rest in your chest, right where you heart was. You looked at Peter now, looking straight into his eyes as you simultaneously felt ecstatic, and calm at the same time.

You loved Peter Parker. Peter Parker is your soulmate.

"Y/N?" He asked, his voice now full of concern for you.

"I..." You couldn't get any words out. You didn't even know what you wanted to say. He was lying bleeding and hurt on your floor and you couldn't exactly turn around and say, "I've just worked out that I love you."

You hand instinctively goes to your chest, your fingers lightly touching the words above your heart. You didn't even realise you had done it until Peter looked down to where your hand had come to rest. His eyes widened as he clocked what you'd done. He wasn't stupid.

"Y/N..." He said again but this time it wasn't a question. It was tender, with the concern still there.

You sat in silence. Both of you working out what to say to the other one. But you were both thinking the same. You both knew what had just happened. The pleasant buzz of energy still hadn't left you, making you feel high on it. It you weren't so overwhelmed you would have probably been grinning.

It was Peter who broke the silence.

"I have something to show you."

In one swift movement he lifted himself up on his better arm to sit facing you, and touched where you had been touching his suit. He very carefully tore more of the suit to show more of the skin on his chest, until four words were visible for you to see.

Sorry, you take it.

"Peter they're-"

"The first words you ever said to me, yes." He finishes for you, a light blush appearing on his cheeks. They're the words you said to Peter when you both went for the same seat in your first ever class together.

You're stunned into silence as it clicks into place in your head what this means. Peter loved you, since the very first time you met.

You sit back from him as your weight shifts so you're now properly sitting onto the floor. You hadn't realised that your had been sitting uncomfortably because of everything that was happening.

Peter loves you.

You love Peter.

This is what he's doing instead of being in class. He's Spiderman.

A soft, but forceful pair of lips on yours pulls you out of your thoughts. Peter kisses you like it's the last thing he will ever do on this Earth. And you kiss him back with just as much feeling.

Maybe you had always been in love with Peter. You had only just realised tonight though that you were. It took him falling through your window for you to realise that. It was just that final push of seeing him hurt and at his most vulnerable that made you see how you truly felt. Why you were so worried about him not being at school.

Peter has pulled you gently towards his lap, so you're half sitting on him and so your bodies are unbelievably close. You know you're getting dirty - but you don't care. Nothing else matters now. You've found a soulmate in your best friend, and you're currently kissing him. And it's an amazing kiss.

You stop kissing him for a second to rest your forehead on his and just to take in what's happening.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." He says breathlessly.

But you think you do. You now know everything. And everything is clicking into place.

Masterlist

#i'm actually really happy with this one #soulmate au #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #marvel imagine #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #storyofavengers

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theclockworkmonk · 3 years

Text

Another Way

Read on AO3

Summary: With Aang desperate for a way to stop the Fire Lord without taking his life, Zuko suddenly remembers what Katara did to the commander of the Southern Raiders.

******

"Aang, we do understand," said Katara, as patiently as she could, "It's just—"

"—Just what, Katara? What!?"

"We're trying to help!" she was yelling now.

"Then one of you figure out a way for me to beat the Firelord without taking his life!" Aang spat back, his voice choking with emotion, "I'd love to hear it!"

He turned away and stormed off out of the courtyard back into the house.

"Aang, don't walk away from this!" Katara called after him. She made to follow him, but felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Let him go," said Zuko, "He needs time to sort it out by himself."

Every instinct in her told her to never let Aang deal with something on his own as long as she could help him, but she had to admit that Zuko might be right, and she could just make things worse.

"I guess there really isn't much more to say anyway," she muttered reluctantly and sat back down on the stone steps. "I certainly don't know how to talk Aang into being a killer."

"None of us do," said Sokka sternly, "and none of us will. The only thing that will convince Aang is time. As we get closer to the comet, he'll have to eventually face the fact that there's no way out of this."

"I just don't know what this will do to him," Katara said miserably, hugging her knees to her chest, "I've never seen him this helpless, even when we lost Appa. He just feels so trapped, he wants another way and I feel trapped since I can't give him one."

Zuko's usual moody frown was replaced with his eyes widening in realization. He snapped his fingers and pointed at Katara.

"Hey! Maybe that's it!" he said, excited now, "We can't give him another way, but maybe you can, Katara."

"What do you mean?" asked Katara, "I certainly don't know how to remove the threat of the most powerful firebender in the world, supercharged by a comet, while also not killing him."

"What about that technique you used against the commander of the Southern Raiders?" Zuko asked.

Fear struck Katara like a hammer and her breath caught in her chest. In a panic, she looked around to discover that the others had indeed heard the worthless idiot, turning toward her with curiosity.

"What technique?" asked Suki.

"Nothing!" Katara said forcefully, but Zuko was looking away from her so he couldn't see the deadly glare she was sending him.

"Come on, Katara, like you said, we're desperate for ideas, and so is Aang," Suki pressed, "It certainly won't hurt."

"I suppose a waterbending technique would be ideal to defeat the Fire Lord," mused Sokka thoughtfully.

"Yeah, they say to 'fight fire with fire,' but that always sounded stupid to me," said Toph, picking at her toes, "Makes much more sense to fight fire with water, right?"

"She moved her hands, and the commander's entire body just went limp," said Zuko, "and then it was like she could control his arms and legs."

Katara winced as Suki frowned in confusion, Toph gaped in shock, and Sokka scowled at her in fury.

"YOU BLOODBENDED SOMEONE!?" her brother shouted at her, springing to his feet, "How could you possibly do that again! Have you been doing it this whole time?"

"No, I swear!" said Katara defensively, trying to shrink into the floor, "It was just that one time, I thought he was the one who killed mom."

"I'm sorry, but we seem to keep forgetting that I haven't always been here," said Suki, raising her hand, "What exactly is bloodbending?"

"It's when a waterbender bends the blood in someone's body," Sokka told his girlfriend, "It's turning someone's own body against them and exerting complete control over them." He turned back to stare daggers at Katara. "It's a disgusting perversion of waterbending that only a cruel coward would use!"

"Before the eclipse, we came across this crazy old lady," explained Toph, "She was a waterbender living in hiding in the Fire Nation. She'd abduct people at night, take them prisoner, and control them like puppets."

"Yeah, and she took control of me and tried to make me kill Aang!" shouted Sokka, throwing his hands in the air, "I honestly can't believe this!"

Katara just hung her head and didn't say anything.

Zuko was frowning and looking back and forth between the two of them.

"I'm….sorry, but am I the only one who doesn't get what the big deal is? You've got a way to instantly, non-fatally incapacitate someone. I can think of a hundred scenarios where that would be useful, like, oh I don't know, the one that we're in right now! Sure, it can do terrible things in the wrong hands, but that's true of all bending. Heck, that's true of every sword that's ever been made."

"Not to mention what this could mean for healing," said Suki, "If you can control the blood in someone's body, there's all kinds of injuries and illnesses you could treat with that."

"I'll agree it's a pretty dirty tactic," said Toph, shrugging, "but we don't really have the luxury of fighting 'honorably,' on account of, ya know, the whole world about to burn. I'm pretty sure Aang will feel better after tying the Firelord into a knot than killing him."

Sokka was scowling deeply at all of them. "None of you understand. You weren't there, you didn't have it used on you. You're a prisoner in your own body. Every inch of you is crawling, like there's something inside you, like you're about to explode or get turned inside out." His voice began to break, and he stared at his trembling hand as he slowly opened and closed it.

"When someone does this to you, you stop being a person. You're just….a thing. Just some meat. It's inherently evil, it's nothing like any other kind of bending or weapon. I don't expect any of you to understand.

"But you do!" he rounded on Katara again, "You had that done to you but still did it!"

"Will you back off already!?" Katara finally spat back at him, jumping to her feet to get on his level, "I already said it was one time! I'm never going to do it again!"

"I'm sure the people of the Earth Kingdom will take comfort in the wake of their nation being burned that you and Aang didn't have to corrupt your beliefs," said Zuko dryly, "I kind of expected something like this from him about taking a life, I never would have thought we'd have to worry about this squeamishness from you, about something that doesn't kill! If you can't do it yourself, at least teach Aang how to do it."

"No," said Katara resolutely, crossing her arms and turning away from them, "If I feel sick at the idea of bloodbending again, Aang will be even more against it. He's a better person than me, after all."

Zuko was taken aback by that last part, exchanging an awkward glance with Suki and Sokka, before continuing uneasily. "Um...isn't that Aang's decision? He's being torn in two and I think he'll take any way out of taking a life."

"Yeah!" said Toph, "The Air Nomads strictly considered all life sacred, but I bet they didn't have any rules regarding a form of bending of a different element that didn't exist yet. Loophole!" she cried cheerfully.

"I'm going to go at least suggest it to him, he can make up his own mind," said Zuko. He went to follow Aang into the house.

"NO!" Katara cried, spinning back around. Her unease had given way to outright panic and fear. "No Zuko, please don't say anything to him! The rest of you too, he can never know what I did!"

The rest of them just sat for a moment, surprised by the desperate tone in her voice.

Sokka shuffled his feet and hung his head. "Look Katara….I'm sorry I blew up at you. I don't think you're some heartless witch like Hama or that you're gonna start bloodbending left and right. You know how patient and zen Aang is, I'm sure he wouldn't react the same way."

"Yes, Sokka, I know he wouldn't yell at me," said Katara, "don't patronize me. It's still the worst thing I've ever done, and would rather no one else find out about it if I can help it. If Aang found out what I did, there'd be no going back from that. It would….he'd never look at me the same way again." Her voice caught in her throat and she turned away from them so they couldn't see the tears starting to sting in her eyes.

Aang had been so relieved when he found out that she had decided to spare the man who had killed her mother. He had smiled at her with such pride and affection that it made her heart ache. But also queasy with guilt, because he didn't know just how close she had come, and what she had done on her way there. If he knew just how dark she allowed her thoughts to get sometimes, she was certain that he wouldn't have said those things during the play.

It was part of why she couldn't bring herself to explore her feelings for him. He had such an inflated opinion of her that she felt she didn't deserve. Every time he gave her that look of complete adoration, she felt like she was lying to him.

Sokka carefully walked up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Katara, you know that Aang isn't immune to losing control himself. You saw how crazy he got with the people who took Appa. If he found out, he'd understand. It wouldn't…" he took a deep breath and steeled himself "...it wouldn't change how he feels about you."

Katara's breath hitched and she jerked away from him, spinning to face them all. She could feel her face burning.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she hissed at him, staring daggers into his eyes.

There was a brief pause, then all four of her friends (including Zuko) burst into raucous laughter. She blushed even harder and wished she was an earthbender, so she could sink into the ground.

"Seriously?" asked Zuko, raising his remaining eyebrow, "We're still doing this?"

"What do you mean, 'seriously?' You just got here," moaned Sokka, "I've been dealing with this since we cracked open that stupid iceberg."

"Hey, at least you don't have to feel their hearts going all a-flutter every time they look at each other," Toph fake-swooned, clutching her chest dramatically.

"Okay, I'm going to be completely honest," said Suki, still laughing, "I actually thought you two were already a thing for weeks after we got back from the Boiling Rock. That's just the energy you guys are giving off." That made the other three laugh even harder.

"Shut up!" yelled Katara. Eventually, the laughter died down when they saw how serious she was.

"We promise not to tell Aang," said Zuko, "You can tell him if and when you're ready."

"But it's probably a good idea to clear the air about it before your wedding day," said Toph.

"Thank you," said Katara, ignoring Toph, "it was a valid idea, Zuko, but in any case, even the woman who invented bloodbending was only able to do it on the full moon. I doubt me or Aang would be able to do it on the day of the comet."

Zuko's smile vanished and he looked at her blankly. "Really? Why didn't you just say that at the start? We could have avoided half this conversation."

"Yeah, I know," she said Katara, angry at herself for getting upset and not thinking.

"It's just as well," sighed Zuko as he sat back down on the steps to the house. "Even if you could disable him, that's just a temporary solution. He's one of the two most powerful firebenders in the world, we'd never be able to contain him forever. And half the Fire Nation worships him, almost literally. As long as the possibility exists for him to reclaim the throne in some glorious Agni Kai, the country will never be free. There's no other way, he has to die."

The laughter from just a few moments ago was long gone, as everyone was reminded of the extremely un-Aang thing that Aang had to do. There was nothing more to be said, everything came down to him.

"If there's another way, he's going to be the one to find it, not us" Katara said quietly, "Aang is the best of us, he'll never stop trying, right until the last moment. But if he doesn't find it, he'll do what's necessary to protect the world."

"To protect you, more like," muttered Sokka under his breath.

Katara rolled her eyes. "Oh, would all of you grow up?" and she stormed into the house, leaving her friends snickering behind her.

******

In 2008, we all watched Aang yell at his friends that he needed a way to defeat Ozai without killing him, and I shouted, out loud in my living room, "just bloodbend him!"

This story is a result of that knocking around in my head for 12 years.

#kataang #atla fanfic #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar: tla #avatar aang #sokka #katara and aang #aang x katara #aang #zuko

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pastelsandpining · 4 years

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Bittersweet

Previous | Next

Summary: Link stays a moment with a friend to think about the princess and her valiant, endless fight against evil incarnate--and what she might mean to him.

Words: 2112

Warnings: questioning of faith, survivor’s guilt if you squint, let me know if there’s anything I missed, it’s kind of just super bittersweet haha

Masterlist

Please do not comment anything HWAOC related as I do not want to be spoiled! :)

______

“Master Link, are you alright?”

The Rito bard meant well. He was one of the many who’d been nothing but kind and helpful towards him since the very beginning. Yet his question made Link pause the drumming of his fingers against the wooden platform and frown.

“I’m just thinking,” he decided to say as he looked up.

“Ah,” sighed the bard, who turned his gaze towards the vast expanse of Hyrule. “Yes, happens to the best of us. Would you perhaps like some company?”

Link shrugged with a gesture to the open area besides him.

“I apologize if I overwhelmed you with my song,” spoke Kass again as he took a seat. “But I suppose everything is a little overwhelming.”

“That’s generous,” Link replied simply and busied his fingers with the Sheikah Slate. He tapped through the compendium, through the photo album, through the map, just to have something to look at other than his friend. And after a moment of thought, he shuffled back from the edge of the platform. “She’d kill me herself if I dropped this.”

“Do you remember much about her?” Kass asked, ending another stretch of silence.

Link frowned again, tracing the swirling patterns with his fingers. What could he say, really?

Everything from the mossy trees to the breath that sustained life carried the Princess of Hyrule with it. There were bits of her everywhere.

She was nothing more than another ghost in the beginning—a face he couldn’t make out, a voice that called from nothing, a girl he should know but could not recall. But when he stood under the arching gate of Lanayru Promenade, with the overgrown grass scratching his boots and chilled wind from the mountain biting his nose, her face became as clear as crystal.

And suddenly, every petal of a Silent Princess carried her name, and every gust of wind echoed her voice, and every touch of the sun’s light mimicked her smile, and every Hot Footed Frog was a hypothesis, and every piece of Sheikah technology he uncovered was her passion, and every drop of rain was her grief, and every deactivated guardian was a totem of her power, and every glance towards the castle was a token of her love.

There were glimpses of her hiding a smile behind her hand. There were glimpses of her fingers brushing so softly against his that he wasn’t sure any of it was real. There were glimpses of his fingers tracing gentle lines over the shapes of her face while she slept. A kiss, light as a feather, to the inside of her wrist. A grab of her hand as they ran for safety. She was the heartbeat that kept Hyrule alive, and there were so few who knew that—but he did.

“She’s everywhere,” Link answered softly, wondering vaguely if she could see him or hear him from the confines of her prison. If she could, the wind was quiet.

Kass gave no response, but his gaze was something understanding, and he was compelled to continue speaking.

“I don’t remember everything,” he said and fiddled with the Slate again. “I don’t think I ever will. I didn’t know where to start at first. But she left me pictures and now everything reminds me of her. Sometimes she’s the only thing I know, and I don’t even know her.”

“Would you like to?” Kass asked, as if he really had a choice in the matter.

“I don’t even know if she’s alive,” Link spoke, but it wasn’t quite true. He couldn’t be certain, but a part of him simply felt that Zelda was, somehow, very much alive. It came with every warning she whispered out when the blood red moon was high in the sky. It came with every tap to the Sheikah Slate, which she once held and studied so dearly. It came with every glance towards Hyrule Castle, and each feeling of dread, of guilt that it caused. It came with every memory of her, whether she be submerged in a spring or invested in her studies. It came with the very life that filled the kingdom—the life that she’d been draining herself of for the past century.

“She is stronger than anyone gave her credit for. I would love to meet her.”

“She’s smart,” Link added, turning his gaze back to the ancient piece of technology in his hands. “Too smart. Research was her passion, and all that remains of it is with me. I hate to keep her waiting.”

“For you, Master Link, I believe she would wait however long it takes.”

If it were possible, she would. But fighting took so much that she didn’t have a forever to give. She’d served enough time.

“You said she loved me,” Link spoke at last. The words made his heart twist violently, like it wanted to wring out all of the pain.

“Loves, yes,” Kass said softly, setting a feathered wing on his shoulder. “She loves many things and many people, and she loves very deeply. I believe it was my teacher’s one mistake—her sacrifice was not solely for you. Yet one does not throw themselves into the aim of a kill without harboring a deep connection.”

Link turned his gaze towards the castle again, wondering not for the first time if perhaps he’d loved her too. He woke with nothing, with hardly a name to himself, and still he followed her. She was but an echo in a vast and darkened tomb, and still he was compelled to listen to her, to obey her, to call out to this being that filled him with such a foreign familiarity. He’d never met her—not in this Hyrule, but he craved getting her back from the thing that had separated them a century ago. And he knew that simply being a knight devoted to his kingdom didn’t sink this far. Her voice was a comfort, her face in his memories was a safety he didn’t know he’d lost, and a simple knight attendant wouldn’t dream to see her smile, rumored as warm as the sun, with his own eyes.

And faintly, he could remember the feeling of her lips on his—a moment of clarity in what must’ve been the worst birthday on record. Goddesses, what he wouldn’t do to have her back.

“Can you love someone you don’t know?” Link wondered aloud, watching the clouds move slowly over the darkening backdrop of the sky.

“There are little rules that love follows. Once you accept that, I think, then answers come easy.”

A soft sigh slipped past his lips. Kass was right of course, just as he always was, even if he didn’t know what to say to someone with a situation as twisted as his.

He knew Zelda before, had loved her before—and if the demon of destruction Calamity Ganon had become could surpass lifetimes on hatred alone, then why couldn’t love last past a century? It made him all the more anxious to end this, because only then would he know for sure. Only seeing her before him, feeling if she was truly solid, would answer his questions. And she was the only tie he had to his life over one hundred years ago.

“And if I fail? Again?” Link asked, and the weight of the Master Sword doubled, like the burden had never left his shoulders after all—because it hadn’t.

Everyone he’d met, they were all depending on him. And if he failed, then the events of a century ago would repeat. There would be no resurrection shrine this time, no sacred princess to hold the Calamity back as they waited for their hero.

“I believe our fates have been set out long before us. There’s no changing what the goddesses have in store. Whatever happens was always meant to happen, and no fault for that lies on your shoulders, Master Link.”

“Would they let their kingdom burn?” Link said, gripping the Slate so tightly that his knuckles whitened. “Would they turn their backs on us again, on Zelda, after we’ve done nothing but show them loyalty?”

“Do you believe they would?”

He turned his gaze away, because he did. They’d already done so in the years they ignored Zelda’s pleadings. They’d already done so by allowing the slaughtering of Hyrule as their princess begged and cried for those same people to be saved. They’d done so by making their goddess incarnate wonder whether or not she was meant to be who she was. And they’d done so by ripping him from her grasp, then dropping him back into existence with nothing but a body and a deep, foreign sense of grief. And maybe this anger, this blame he felt towards the goddesses was not helping them to grant him the kindness he knew he needed for this journey. They’d taken everything from him, and now they expected him to turn to them for help and grovel at their feet and beg them to save their own kingdom.

How cruel the deities could be.

“It’s alright,” Kass continued, as if he simply knew. “I think everyone doubts their faith at times. With the suffering you’ve endured, how could you not?”

“What do you think?” Link asked. “About the gods.”

For once, the bard did not have an immediate reply. He hummed as he thought, and Link took to watching the first few stars peek through the dusk. A light twinkling at the end of the darkness. The irony was not lost on him.

“I think the more time that passes, the more clouded it becomes,” the Rito said at last. “The details of the goddesses become fuzzy, and we take to retelling victories alone. I think the gods of our world are very old, and communications have dwindled even in hours like these because they, too, are tired. But I know that we will never truly understand the gods. Oh, we may have our theories, but they have existed far longer than us.”

Link wondered partially if that was true. The sword told the tale of a thousand lifetimes, with a hero’s spirit tied to each one. And with every hero, there was a daughter of Hylia to go with them.

At this point, living a century after the time he once belonged in, he absolutely felt like a god that had lived forever.

“I’m angry,” Link admitted, though he was sure he didn’t have to. “I’m angry they turned their back on us, and I’m angry for Zelda—that she’s had to fight alone for the past century after everything else she’d been through.”

“Are you also not fighting alone?” Kass asked.

“No.” His reply was immediate, coming without a second thought, because he’d never truly been alone for any of this. Even before he met his newfound friends, Zelda guided him. And he could do no more than whisper into the air and hope that it carried on the winds to her, and that she was listening. “I’m not alone.”

“Neither is she,” the bard assured. “As long as there are people who remember her, and as long as you stand with intentions to help her, she will never be alone.”

The words made his voice catch and his lip tremble, so Link ducked his head and fiddled with the gloves over his hands.

Zelda deserved the world as soon as she got out of her prison. It was time he stopped with his fears, because she was counting on him. All of Hyrule was counting on him—again. And he needed her like he’d known her his whole life.

“You'll be the first to meet her,” Link promised as he glanced to his friend. “She’ll love you.”

“It would be my honor, truly. And perhaps then I will write my own song about a boy who traversed mountains and deserts for the girl he held dear, and a girl who brought destruction to its knees for the people she loved.”

Link cracked a smile and said, “As long as I’m the first to hear it.”

“Oh, of course.”

He turned his gaze back towards the sky. The moon was just beginning to peak over the horizon, as big and white and calming as it belonged. He wondered vaguely if, wherever she was within that castle, she could see it too.

“I think I do love her,” he said softly.

“And there is no shame in that,” Kass replied. Another feathered wing was set upon his shoulder. He was grateful for the comfort. “I have faith that you will get her back for us. For you.”

“I’ll do anything.”

And he meant it.

#zelink #breath of the wild #botw zelink #link #botw link #legend of zelda #go get her link :')

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infinite-xerath · 3 years

Text

Runeterra Retcons: Ruination Episode (Targon)

Targon Part I

You awaken the next morning to find everyone in somewhat dour spirits. Olaf looks to be training alone, Shen is meditating, Riven is idly inspecting her blade, Gwen and Vayne seem to be watching the waves outside, and Lucian and Senna look to be in the middle of a rather heated argument.

Senna: “How many times do I need to say it, Lucian? I’m not staying behind!”

Lucian: “You’ve seen what he can do, Senna! We’re not in any position to take him on!”

Senna: “I know that, Lucian, but that’s all the more reason why we all need to be out there.”

Lucian: “Damn it, Senna, he’s targeting you! You’ve got one of those soul fragments in you too, which means we need to keep you out of harm’s way.”

Senna: “Oh? And what about Gwen? She’s a fetter too, and you don’t seem to want her to stay behind.”

Lucian: “Gwen’s got the Hallowed Mist protecting her!”

Senna: “And I’ve got you protecting me, or do you not have my back?”

Lucian: “That’s… You know that ain’t fair!”

Senna: “Oh really? So it’s fair that I get to stay behind and worry about my husband while you go hunting all over the world for fetters? Lucian, we swore we would always have each other’s backs. You have to stop letting what happened with Thresh hold you back!”

“Who’s Thresh?”

“Uh, is that a bad time?”

Lucian response 1: “…Someone you should pray you never meet, Rookie.”

Lucian response 2: “…No, I’d say your timin’ is perfect, Rookie.”

Senna: “We were just getting ready to set out on our next mission.”

Suddenly, Riven approaches to join the conversation.

Riven: “So… Where are we going next?”

Shen: “Mount Targon.”

Riven: “Ah! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Shen: “Mount Targon is the gateway between the earth and the heavens; a bridge into the Third Realm, that of the Celestials. Their power is often revered as godlike, so acquiring their favor may be the key to tipping the scales.”

“Wait, so we’re going to try and recruit the gods?”

“Isn’t Mount Targon like, really high though?”

Senna: “I know it’s a longshot, but either way, the Black Mist is gathering around Targon as we speak.”

Olaf: “Hmm! The gods you say? Perhaps there is a worthy foe among them!”

Senna: “Everyone, gather round! Rookie, fire up the Wayfinder!”

You wait as everyone gathers to the map table, then unleash the Wayfinder’s light to carry you to your destination. You emerge in what looks to be not a Sentinel outpost, but some manner of temple filled with carvings of Celestial bodies.

“Uh, I think something went wrong.”

“Please don’t tell me this thing is on the fritz.”

???: “Halt, trespassers!”

You turn around to see figures in peculiar armor emerging from the shadows, wielding brandishing peculiar silver weapons at you.

Lunari Soldier A: “Who are you? How did you find our sacred ground?”

Lunari Soldier B: “They must be with the Solari! Capture them!”

Gwen: “Um, pardon me, I think there’s been a misunderstanding! We’re not-”

Lunari Soldier A: “Silence! We won’t be deceived by your lies! Lunari, ready your weapons!”

Vayne: “A fine mess you’ve gotten us into, Rookie…”

Targon Part II

The Sentinels fend off their Lunari attackers, the light of their weapons clashing against the silver light of moonsteel.

Shen: “We are not your adversaries! Please, stand aside!”

Lucian: “Damn, they ain’t listening! Looks like we’re just gonna have to blast our way through!”

Lunari Soldier A: “What is this? I have never seen Solari weapons like this before!”

???: “They are not Solari! Everyone, stand down!”

Suddenly, every Lunari soldier halts, turning their attention to the entrance of the temple. A woman with long, pale hair strides into the room, clutching a large curved blade.

“Who are you?”

“Reinforcements?”

Diana: “Forgive them, travelers. My name is Diana, chosen Aspect of the Moon.”

Riven: “Aspect? You don’t mean…”

“You’re a god!?”

“You lead the Lunari?”

Diana response 1: “In a sense… Though I am only a vessel for Her power.”

Diana response 2: “A leader? No, not quite… I only speak the moon’s will to Her people.”

Olaf: “Ha! The gods of the Freljord are said to be titans! Are all of Targon’s god so tiny?”

Gwen: “Olaf, manners!”

Diana: “The moon towers above even your gods, Freljordian! Do not speak ill of her so readily.”

Lunari soldier B: “My lady, these Solari agents-”

Diana: “They are not Solari. These travelers have come far to aid us in our current plight, is that not so?”

Senna: “Actually… You could say that we’re the ones looking for help. There’s a world-wide Harrowing going on, so we hoped you Aspects could lend us a hand in dealing with it.”

Diana: “I see… In the past, Aspects would stand together to fend off the forces of darkness that threatened this world, but now we stand divided. The sun’s faithful, the Solari, persecute the Lunari as heretics! Their Aspect is…”

Diana hesitates. For a moment.

Diana: “She is difficult to speak with. As for the others: War has been killed, Justice is fragmented, and Twilight is nowhere to be found. Only the Protector remains to guard Targon’s peak from the encroaching darkness.”

“Guess we can’t expect any help from the gods…”

“So basically, you’re saying the Aspects can’t help.”

Diana: “…Not quite. It was by the Moon’s will that I came here to greet you. I know what it is you seek, travelers, and I can guide you to it.”

Vayne: “Oh, now this is a familiar set-up. Sorry, but we’ve already fallen for that trap once. It’s not happening again.”

Shen: “It is no trap. She speaks the truth.”

Lucian: “And how the hell do you know that?”

Shen: “The Eye of Twilight is not so easily deceived.”

Diana: “Time is short, travelers. Even as we speak, the Mist scours the mountain, searching for the Ruined King’s prize.”

Senna: “Damn it… I guess we don’t have a choice.”

Vayne: “…Fine, but the moment I even suspect Moonbeams here is going to turn on us, I’m putting a bolt through that glowing forehead.”

Diana: “You have nothing to fear. Now, come with me!”

Targon Part III

You follow Diana out onto the slops of Targon. The skies above you shine with the cosmos, but the land below you is obscured by a thick blanket of Black Mist.

“I can’t even see the bottom…”

“Just how high up are we?”

Diana: “Mount Targon soars into the heavens. Most would perish in an effort to make it this high, but you are fortunate to have had a means to bypass much of that climb.”

Lucian: “Come to think of it, why DID the Wayfinder bring us into your temple, anyway?”

Diana: “That temple did indeed once serve another purpose, but it has since become yet another hiding place for the Lunari to flee persecution. Those accursed Solari… They will forsake any light that isn’t the sun, forcing others to live in shadow.”

Diana descends further toward the Black Mist, leading you all closer to the howls of wraiths.

Vayne: “Seems like the shadows are where we’re headed.”

Gwen: “Um, are we quite sure about this?”

Before anyone can respond, several wraiths leap out of the Mist, ascending the mountain toward your party. You tense up, preparing for another fight, but Diana moves with inhuman speed to block their path. With a single swing of her blade, she lets loose an arcing bolt of moonlight that tears through the wraiths.

Diana: “The Moon’s silver light cuts through even the blackest darkness. You are under my protection now, so you have nothing to fear.”

“That was impressive!”

“Maybe I could get behind this whole moon-worship thing.”

Diana ignores your comments as she leads you further into the mist, wrapping herself in a silver barrier. More wraiths come your way, but Diana makes short work of those that would impede your path. The Sentinels fend of what few manage to sneak by her.

Lucian: “Hot damn, this moon lady ain’t half-bad!”

Senna: “Oh? Taken an interest in the goddess, have we, Lucian?”

Lucian: “Uh, I mean…”

Olaf: “Wait! Look there!”

You look past Diana to see a figure cutting through the Black Mist, striking down wraiths left and wright. His spear and shield glisten with the light of the cosmos and his helmet burns with pure starfire.

???: “Back, foul beasts! Your grotesque forms dishonor the fallen!”

“Who is that?”

“Another Aspect!?”

Diana response 1: “Atreus, formerly the Aspect of War. He fights with the remnants of Pantheon’s power that still linger inside him.”

Diana response 2: “Once, he was Pantheon, the Aspect of War. Now, however, he wields only a fragment of the fallen god’s might.”

Atreus: “Indeed, I am no more than a man! And no less! Whatever remnants of the god may linger, my strength is my own!”

Olaf: “Hmm! You seem like a worthy foe! Perhaps you will be the one to grant me a glorious end in battle!”

Atreus: “Glory comes not from how we die, berserker, but how we live. Now, enough talk! We share a common enemy this day, do we not, Diana?”

Diana: “Yes. We go to the dead god’s temple to find the artifact hidden within. We must keep it from the Ruined King’s grasp.”

Atreus: “So be it! Charge ahead, travelers! I will be the shield and spear at your backs!”

Without another word, Atreus rushes past you, slamming his shield into a wall of wraiths to scatter them.

Gwen: “Oh my, I hope he’ll be alright by himself!”

Vayne: “If I were you, I’d be more worried about the wraiths… Not that I’d ever spare any sympathy for these monsters.”

Diana: “What we seek lies just ahead. Come, Sentinels! We must hurry to the temple!”

Targon Part IV

After a long and arduous trek through the Black Mist, Diana finally brings you to the doors of an ancient, dilapidated temple.

“Phew… What a workout!”

“I need… A minute…”

Lucian: “Shake it off, Rookie! Our job’s not done yet.”

Riven: “So the fetter is in there?”

Diana: “Yes, that is what the Moon tells me.”

Vayne: “Let’s hope the Moon is a reliable informant.”

The Sentinels push the doors open to find the interior of the temple utterly abandoned. Tattered banners hang from nearby pillars and a heavy layer of dust lingers in the air. In the center stands a grand statue of a helmeted warrior clutching a familiar spear and shield.

“I don’t get it, why would a fetter be in a place like this?”

“Somehow, this place is even creepier than the Mist outside.”

Diana response 1: “For centuries, warriors from across Runeterra have come to make offerings here. It must be fate that one such offering would house the remnants of the Lost Queen.”

Diana response 2: “A god never truly dies. Their presence lingers in those whose lives they have touched, and where their memories are preserved.”

Shen: “I sense a growing imbalance. We should not dwell here for long.”

At Shen’s urging, fan out and scour the temple. You find many old offerings on display: trophies plucked from battlefields all over the world across the span of centuries. At first, none of them seem particularly noteworthy, but then your eyes fall upon an old, faded crest resting on a pedestal. You feel compelled to take hold of it and examine it more closely.

???: “I’ll be taking that.”

Suddenly, a shadowy hand snatches the crest from your grasp. You wheel around to see a familiar yordle standing by one of the pillars, her shadow clutching the crest behind her.

“It’s you! Um… What was your name again?”

“What the- How did you get here!?”

Vex response 1: “I never told you my name, but because I know you’re going to keep asking: it’s Vex, got it? Try to remember it.”

Vex response 2: “Ugh, more questions. Look, I’ve got ways of getting around, in case you’d forgotten.”

Hearing the commotion, the other Sentinels race to your aid. As Gwen and Senna draw near, the crest starts to emit a familiar glow.

Senna: “She’s got the fetter!”

Lucian: “Take her down, Sentinels!”

Vex: “Uh oh! Time to bale!”

Vex narrowly evades the bursts of Sentinel light that come for her, using her shadow to dart between the pillars of the temple for cover.

Riven: “She’s making a run for it!”

Senna: “Cut her off!”

Vex’s shadow carries her swiftly toward the exit, but Diana closes the distance in an instant. A massive circle of pale light surrounds her and draws Vex back into the temple.

Vex: “What the!? Hey, no fair!”

Diana slashes at Vex’s shadow, knocking the fetter from its grasp. The crest skids across the floor, landing by your feet.

Lucian: “Rookie, grab it!”

You bend over to do as Lucian says, only to be interrupted by a massive boom from outside. The whole temple trembles and knocks you off your feet.

“What was that!?”

“It wasn’t me, I swear!”

Vex: “Hey, if you guys are gonna bring a god, then so can I!”

Suddenly, the ominous presence you felt in the temple before grows heavier. A familiar figure strides into the temple, his flesh and weapons warped by the Black Mist. A look of genuine fear washes over Diana’s face.

Diana: “It can’t be…”

“Atreus!?”

“Pantheon!?”

Pantheon response 1: “No. I have reclaimed what is rightfully mine! I am Pantheon, and you are intruders upon my temple.”

Pantheon response 2: “Indeed. I am war, I am change, and I am reborn!”

Vayne: “So the Black Mist can even turn a dead god undead…”

Shen: “The scales of tipped even further!”

Pantheon: “Come then, mortals! You will be the first to receive my judgement!”

Targon Part V

Pantheon rushes into the temple, engaging the Sentinels head-on. Diana moves to intercept him, but she is quickly thrown back by the force of his spear into the base of his statue. The entire monument shakes and crumbles, burying Diana under a pile of rubble.

Lucian: “Stand strong, Sentinels! We’ve got him outnumbered!”

Pantheon: “Fool! I am an army unto myself!”

You watch as Pantheon engages your allies, effortlessly deflecting their attacks with his weapons. Shen, Riven and Olaf engage him at close-range, while Senna, Lucian and Vayne support them from a distance. Gwen does her best to support the party with Hallowed Mist, though this proves little more than an annoyance to the war god.

Senna: “Rookie! Grab that fetter and fire up the Wayfinder! We need to get out of here!”

You look to the ground to see that the crest is long-gone, along with Vex and her shadow.

“Damn! She got away with the fetter, again!”

“So, uh, I can follow exactly half of that order!”

Pantheon: “Your fight ended long before it even began, Sentinels!”

With a single swing of his spear, Pantheon knocks all of your comrades to the ground, lashing out with an unholy mix of Ruined and Celestial power. Just as the situation beings to seem dire, however, the statue behind Pantheon explodes into a burst of pale light.

Diana bursts from the rubble, swinging her moonlight-empowered blade at the war god. He turns just in time to block her strike with his shield, though the impact still causes him to stumble a little.

Diana: “Your time has passed, Warrior! Return to your slumber!”

Pantheon: “War is eternal, as am I!”

The two Aspects clash in an inhuman Celestial might, their battle causing the very temple around to you tremble. You and your allies watch, transfixed, at this deadly dance between gods in human form. A silent understanding arrives that any attempt at intervention would only result in a swift and inglorious death caught in the crossfire.

Diana dashes around with inhuman speed while Pantheon pushes with back with titanic strength, though you can’t help that something seems off about the war god’s movements. It looks to you almost as though he’s struggling to raise his spear…

Senna: “Rookie! We gotta go! This isn’t a fight mortals can play any part in!”

You snap back to reality and rush to your allies, Wayfinder in hand. Everyone musters the strength to join you, though just before you can teleport back to headquarters, a scream cuts through the temple. You look back to the battle, horrified to see Pantheon’s spear impaled through Diana’s torso.

Pantheon: “Now, you too will know what I felt at the Darkin’s blade…”

Lucian: “Rookie, do it now!”

In spite of Lucian’s orders, though, you find yourself unable to summon the light of the Wayfinder. Pantheon pulls his spear from Diana and shoves her toward you before approaching.

Pantheon: “It does not matter where you flee to, Sentinels. There is nowhere you can run, nowhere you can hide, from war. I shall storm your fortress and lay waste to your bastion, bringing a new era of war!”

“Atreus, wake up!”

“Is that really what you want, Atreus?”

Pantheon: “You speak again of my vessel, but he is back where he belongs: under my control.”

“You said that it doesn’t matter how we die, but how we live! Do you want to live as a slave in your own body, Atreus?”

“You’re wrong, Pantheon! You’re the one under Viego’s control, but Atreus wouldn’t submit so easily!”

Vayne: “Rookie, what are you-”

Pantheon: “Enough of this! I… I… Ugh!”

Suddenly, Pantheon’s form begins to flicker, the Black Mist ebbing flowing from his body to show the man underneath.

Atreus: “I am no slave, Pantheon! Not to you OR the Ruined King!”

Pantheon: “What!? You dare defy me, mortal!?”

You watch as Atreus and Pantheon wrestle for control as Black Mist floods into the temple behind you, carrying with it a swarm of wraiths. Suddenly, the Ruination gives way to Celestial light once more, but the Black Mist still clings stubbornly to Atreus’s body.

Atreus: “Go! I shall hold these abominations back, including the one within me!”

Senna: “You heard him, Rookie! Use that damn Wayfinder!”

This time, you do as you are told, calling forth the power of your Relic to carry you and your comrades back to safety. You reappear in Sentinel headquarters, far away from Mount Targon.

Lucian: “Rookie, I don’t know whether to be furious or impressed right now.”

“I know, I lost the fetter.”

“I know, I can’t believe I actually got through to him!”

Riven response 1: “Hey, it’s not your fault. We all know how slippery that yordle and her shadow can be.”

Riven response 2: “I just hope Pantheon doesn’t take control again. I really don’t want a rematch with a god.”

Gwen: “Um, speaking of whom…”

You all turn to see Diana struggling to her feet, clutching her side.

Diana: “Ngh…”

“Are you alright?”

“Hey, take it easy!”

Diana: “It was not I who suffered Pantheon’s spear, young one, but the Aspect of the Moon herself. I… Can scarcely feel Her now.”

Vayne: “So what, you’re telling us that undead god killed the moon?”

Diana: “No… She still lives, but her power is weakened. It will take many nights for her to recover.”

Lucian: “If things keep up like this, I don’t know how many more nights we have.”

Shen: “The balance grows more precarious still.”

Senna: “So much for divine intervention…”

Diana: “Ngh… Though my connection to the heavens is diminished, I can still feel Her will, however faintly. She… Wishes for me to accompany you, if you’ll have me.”

Riven: “You’re saying you want to join us?”

Diana: “I am saying that... I have little choice. I cannot return to the Lunari as I am now. I am the Moon’s voice, her vessel. Without her, I can do little for my people. All I can do is take up arms and aid you in your fight, in the hopes that doing so will drive the Black Mist from the slopes of Targon.”

Gwen: “Ooh, how marvelous! The moon lady is going to join us! Oh, follow me, and we’ll tend to your wounds as well as your wardrobe.”

Gwen leads Diana back into the Sentinel base. Though it takes slightly longer than normal thanks to Diana’s injuries, she soon emerges with the Lunari leader in tow.

Gwen: “Apologies for the wait, everyone! I now present to you all: Sentinel Diana!”

Diana: “May Mother Moon watch over us, and may we all fight our own path through the darkness.”

Lucian: “That’s… Not exactly the standard oath, but good enough, I guess.”

Senna: (Another new Sentinel, but we’re still no closer to turning things around…)

#Runeterra Retcons

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