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harry-writings · 3 years

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The Happy Years

- The one where Y/n is unhappy in her engagement and finds an escape with her former lover

Part 1

Masterlist

(A/N) IM SO EARLY IM SORRY I KNOW I SAID 9PM BUT IM DONE SO MUCH SOONER THAN EXPECTED OKAY IM SORRY LOVE YALL <3333

Three years later.

The heaviest of thunderstorms hit the city of London by early morning, the loss of the sun and the gloom of the day leaving Harry bedridden for the first time in weeks.

He always tried his best to avoid days like this — trapped within his home, caged in memories that make every step he takes heavier than the last, wishing for just the smallest taste of salvation — because it’s when he’s left alone between these walls that the darkest parts of him come out, ravaging, feeding off of what’s left of him.

Rain reminds him of the day Y/n left. Thunder reminds him of Malibu. Malibu reminds him of all the things he ever used to do with her — on the bed, on the couch, in the hallways.

There’s no escape from what he’s done.

But when the time hits two in the afternoon and Harry still hasn’t gotten up from under his blankets, he decides that doing even the bare minimum with his day would be some sort of accomplishment.

He decided to get the mail.

And what a terrible decision that was, Harry thinks, as he sees an envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting by an unfamiliar name. Something about it upsets his stomach and throws him off key, knowing in his heart that he shouldn’t open it, but it’s heavy in his hands and he can’t ignore the temptation of it all.

Another terrible decision he’s made.

Please join us for the wedding of Alfie Lexington & Y/n Y/l/n.

Saturday, September 25, 2021 at 3:00 PM.

Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.

The downpour feels like a drizzle compared to the cries Harry lets out as he reads the wedding invitation, his worst nightmare playing out right before his very eyes and if he wasn’t already so fucked up, he’d try his best to ignore it.

Y/n played her move. She wants him to strike back. She wants to win and watch him lose more than he already has. That’s all she has left of him.

His lips tremble as he sniffles, the invitation shaking between his palms as he lets reality sink in.

Y/n is getting married.

Y/n is happy.

Y/n is going to spend the rest of her life with somebody other than him — somebody that was once his friend.

It's unfathomable to him. The connection him and Y/n shared was unlike any other. They were drawn to each other instantaneously, their feelings of infatuation never once dying down because it was simply incapable of doing so.

They put each other first. They made each other better people, helped each other grow through all the droughts and winter days, and continuously found ways to become closer to one another. They were so comfortable and confident in their company, and so every day they spent together within those four years had never been anything less than pure happiness.

They were meant to be. He didn’t see it then, but he sees it now, and now that’s all he sees because everything he sees is her.

To know that it’s no longer the same for her kills him from the inside out, because now she really doesn’t belong to him.

He lets out a sound that can only resemble what would be a whine and a groan made together, sobbing as he flips the invitation around, only to find another saved date he just doesn’t have the heart to see — an engagement party for all the invited to join.

He’s so overwhelmed with devastation that his brain becomes fogged, his body disassociating from itself as he rips the invitation apart, growling and screaming and wailing as he just keeps ripping it and ripping it and ripping it.

He’s destroying it in the same way it destroyed him until he gives up, slamming his fists down upon the counter, losing control of himself beneath all his pain and regrets. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. This isn’t what was supposed to come from this life.

He’s barely surviving as it is.

And he just needs to see her again.

But he doesn’t know how he’d react once he does. Whether he’d want to kiss her, to hate her, to love her all over again, he doesn’t know. His entire world is collapsing and he doesn’t know how to save it from falling apart. He can’t take any more risks when it comes to her.

But what is love without fear and danger? What would it say about him if he were to walk away from this now instead of trying just once more with her?

So with a heavy heart and a sobbing chest, he doesn’t take his chances.

And Y/n simply just couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.

Harry is standing at her doorstep, soaked head to toe, shaking in his bones. His lips are a light shade of blue and his eyes an alarming shade of red, somehow wetter than the rest of him. And as the thunder rumbles beneath her feet and nearly sends her to her knees, it goes to show her that he really is here, standing at her doorstep, and it’s not just a dream.

And she must have been struck by the shock of his presence because her tongue is suddenly tied, her throat dry, her lips fallen open yet forgetting how to breathe.

She just looks at him, soaking him all in, trying to understand what exactly led him back to the biggest mistake of his life.

“Harry?”

“So that was your way of getting back at me?! After three fucking years?!”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing in defense. How he could possibly accuse her of something she didn’t even do — considering she hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to him since the moment she left Malibu — makes her feel even more betrayed than before.

He should know her better than this. He should know her from the inside out at this point, but she supposed three years really is a long time, because she’s never seen this side of Harry before. He seems so different to her now.

“Don’t you dare come to my home and try to make an ass out of me! Since when have I ever been the kind of person to get back at somebody?!”

Harry stutters for a moment, his anger and jealousy and hurt blinding him from the truth that Y/n never goes out of her way to get even. Her heart is too big, but he can’t shake this feeling that the person who sent him the invitation was out to do him harm.

And nobody had more of a reason to hurt him than Y/n.

“So the wedding invitation, then? You had nothing to do with that?”

He speaks it condescending, as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but that’s not what it comes down to. It comes down to the fact that she has moved on and found herself somebody so much better than him, and he has no one.

She shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, confused about how he even found out about the wedding considering Harry quit the firm just hours after he left Malibu, leaving him with no contact to anybody that had any string tied back to her.

“Of course I had something to do with the wedding invitations! I’m the one getting married!”

She pauses then, her cold demeanor dropping into something Harry wants to say resembles a hint of relief, but it’s much more cross than that, much more serious, and he doesn’t expect what’s coming next.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Me getting married?” She speaks it through a small, bitter laugh. “I should have known the only way you’d fight for me was by being with somebody else. You never could stand being second to me, as ironic as that is.”

“I could give two shits about you getting married.” He lies through clenched teeth, his stomach sick at the mere thought of it. “But I do have an issue with you inviting me to your wedding after walking out on me.”

Her head snaps back up to him.

“Wait, Harry, what are you talking about?” She frowns, trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t invite you to the wedding.”

Why would she?

They are no longer friends, no longer much of anything, so for her to take time out of her day to sabotage anything but herself wouldn’t feel right to her. Besides, it was her decision to never speak to Harry again, she wouldn’t ever take her word back.

Harry frowns then, too, because she isn’t faking her emotions. She’d always been terrible at doing so, and the way her eyes scream and beg for answers can’t go ignored. He, again, feels like the absolute worst person in the world.

“Then who did?” He whispers.

There’s only one possible answer.

Seven months ago.

Alfie insisted that he and Y/n had a New Year’s Eve party. They’d never had one before, as Y/n much preferred staying in with a bottle of champagne and celebrating with a lobster dinner and late night reruns of The Honeymooners.

But Alfie was persistent. Very persistent. Too persistent. So persistent she had no choice but to give in, and she just didn’t understand why.

She didn’t understand it as days passed and all Alfie talked about was the stupid party. She didn’t understand it when he rented out one of the most expensive venues. She didn’t understand it when he laid awake the entire night before, too anxious to fall asleep. She didn’t understand it when he asked her to wear his favorite dress.

She wished that she did the moment it happened.

The clock was ticking.

“Five!”

Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.

“Four!”

Y/n noticed something shift in the air.

“Three!”

Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.

“Two!”

Y/n knew what was coming.

“One!”

Alfie dropped to one knee.

“Happy new year!”

It was every girl’s dream — the fireworks, the balcony, the view, the prince charming that would whisk her away to spend the rest of eternity together — yet it couldn’t have felt any more like a nightmare.

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not then, not ever before, not once during the span of their relationship, and time seemed to have stopped moving forward.

There she was, in the center of the universe as everybody stopped and stared, gasping and gushing at the sight of a man on his knees for a woman. An act of vulnerability, of love, of submission, yet it didn’t feel like any of those things.

It all felt so wrong.

She began to cry.

To everyone else, it seemed as though she was crying from happiness. Her devoted boyfriend of two years finally asked for her hand in marriage, to be the mother of his children, to spend the rest of their lives tied together by a vow, unable to be broken. So it was no surprise when everybody let out an awe of endearment, nobody (not even Alfie) knowing her well enough to distinguish the difference between her happiest and saddest cries.

Harry would have known.

And that was all it seemed to come back to in that very moment in time.

Harry.

What she would have given to feel his hands on her waist, blocking her body from view with his, taking her away from all the unwanted eyes on her fragile body. He would have done it in a heartbeat because he always did — he always found a way to help her escape her horrifying realities, even the sweetest of ones.

What she would have given for it to be him kneeling in front of her… this all would have been so different.

Her lover of two years was promising her a future, yet all she could think about was somebody stuck in her past, yet so heavily prevalent in her present.

But she couldn’t say no. How could she when everybody expected the answer he was looking for, ready to toast to the bride and groom? How could she when phones captured the beginning of the rest of their lives, ready to share for all to see?

But she couldn’t say yes, either.

She settled for a nod of her head.

The crowd cheered, some clapping, others clinking their glasses, lovers kissing. She only caught a glimpse of those celebratory moments before everything around her drowned in her tears, voices of congratulations so distant beneath her heavy, hyperventilated breaths.

Alfie embraced her, then, and she felt his laughs of euphoria rumbling in his chest as hers met his, and she couldn’t even pretend.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her expression void of everything that she should have been feeling. And her eyes went blank as they caught a reflection of her through the balcony windows — the last time she ever saw herself for what she truly was.

That same day.

Y/n was a mess waiting for Alfie to get home.

Seeing Harry again filled her with so many different emotions, she didn’t know which one to start with. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy everything and everybody that dared get in her way, she wanted to disappear. Yet she had done none of it. All she could manage to do was pace around her bedroom, biting at her nails and getting lost in her scrambled thoughts, her mind and body moving at a million miles an hour, unable to be tamed.

This is precisely the reason Y/n never wanted to see him again.

He does things to her, he always has. She hardly has any control over herself whenever it comes to him and she fucking hates it. No matter how sad, how mad, how hurt or how upset, there was something about his presence that made her see past all of that. It saddens her how much she used to love it.

But her moods swing at her relentlessly, the sadness turning to anger because yes, she is angry. She’s angry that he still has this much of a hold on her, especially after everything he’s done, and she’s even more angry that he hasn’t yet apologized for it.

Because it was all getting better. The constant wondering about what he’s doing or who he’s with and the continuous string of thought always leading back to him was all finally falling into its place. She was finally finding her place.

And then her fiancè did this.

When she hears the bedroom door open, she hardly gives Alfie any time before she starts a fight, wishing nothing more than to take it all out on him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/n fumes, everything tainted red with anger as she looks into his eyes and feels nothing but hurt and betrayal. “Inviting Harry to our wedding behind my back?! Do you not remember what he did to me?! Do you not realize what you just did?!”

He frowns, not sarcastic or menacing, but he genuinely seems upset that she’d ever even ask him such a question.

“Y/n…” Alfie sighs, and she suddenly hates the way he’s always managed to remain calm in the most heated of arguments. She wants to start a war with it, to go for the kill, to make him crawl and beg and bleed for her forgiveness. “Of course I remember what he did to you, which is exactly why I did it.”

Her hands turn to fists.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“I wanted to hurt him for hurting you! God damn it, Y/n… after finding out what he did to you all I could think about was ripping him to pieces and that urge never left me, especially after we got together.”

He slumps himself down at the foot of the bed, loosening the tie around his neck, almost too aggressively. And if she wasn’t so out of her mind enraged, she would try her hardest to understand his side.

But there is no excuse for this. There’s no excuse for any of it.

“So now you use our marriage as a way to get back at him?!”

Y/n may not love Alfie the right way, but she had never stooped so low to treat her marriage like a weapon, ready to strike at any moment in time. It wasn’t something she used to inflict pain onto anybody else but herself, no matter how hard it had gotten.

And though she once believed their engagement meant more to him than it ever meant to her, she can’t help but feel as if that’s just another lie she’d been forced to live with.

He went behind her back deliberately to hurt somebody even she never intended on hurting. He knew what was to come of this and yet here he is, letting it all happen for satisfaction’s sake.

It feels like all she will ever be is used.

“Is that what this is to you?! A point on your scoreboard?! A big ‘fuck you, i won!’?”

“Isn’t that what this is for you?”

“Don’t you dare turn this into my problem.” She spits through clenched teeth, punching at the dresser beside her with the side of her fist, face burning with fury. “I’m not the one sending him our wedding invitations!”

“And I’m not the one staying up past midnight scrolling through pictures of him on my phone!”

Her mouth shuts then, her hard and pressed features softening at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

She had been looking at pictures of Harry almost every night since Malibu, she just never expected to get caught. She could physically feel Alfie fall asleep against her, so she always waited thirty minutes before she took her phone out, looking back at everything that once was.

It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

It’s what she kept going back to — a habit that came as naturally as telling her best friend about her day, about her perspectives on the world, about the lack of guidance in her life — like a phone call at the end of the day as a way to unwind.

She had make believe conversations with him as she scrolled endlessly through her favorite photo album, the thickness of his accent engrained in her mind as she thought of everything he’d say to her if he were still around. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d live vicariously through the memories they made together and replay those moments all night, until they lulled her to sleep.

“I told you from day one that —”

“That you’re never going to let him go, I know. I know that he was the love of your life at one point but this is just pathetic now, Y/n. Absolutely nothing short of pathetic.” She frowns, his choice of words making her heart sink because he knows exactly how to do it. And he sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face as if he were in agony. “I didn’t know this was the kind of shit I was signing up for.”

Her eyes brim with tears but don’t offer anything more, only upset that he couldn’t find a way to understand her when she’s trying so hard. But he never has and he never will — not in the way she needs him to and not in the way that could ever make this work.

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” She confesses sadly, her bottom lip between her teeth and fingers picking the skin around her nails as she tries, yet again, to make him see. “He was my best friend before he was anything else to me. There was a time in my life where he was all I had.”

And though her heart is still with Harry in every aspect of every way, it’s true. He was her best friend and that’s what she misses the most. There was so much to him that meant so much to her and none of it could ever be replaced, not even by Alfie.

“You know I love you but you also know I'm not the same woman you fell for in Malibu. I’m my worst self when I don't have him around and your favorite parts of me don’t exist without him. Don’t pretend like you don’t see that.”

His hands twitch against his lap, his shoulders slumping because it’s true. The most lively and brightest parts of herself had died the first step she’d taken away from him that night. Sure, she’s still the most resilient and beautiful woman Alfie had ever known, but she’s never been the same since then.

She’s still in love with him and there’s nothing for him to do about it. He didn’t see it until he saw the way she sulked over Harry that night, all those years later, with a diamond ring on her finger that just seemed to weigh her down even more.

None of this means anything to her.

“It’s been three years, Y/n. Just find yourself a new best friend and move the fuck on already. I’m getting sick and tired of this.”

What he doesn’t understand is that she is, too.

Two weeks later.

Y/n shouldn’t be this alone at her own engagement party, but it’s the impossible things that always manage to find their way to her.

The party consisted mostly of Alfie’s friends, considering Y/n is much more of an introvert than he is and the small number of friends she does have seemed to have disappeared within the sea of unfamiliar faces. She felt lost for a moment, but when she finally found her fiancè, he had been too invested in his own friends to spare her a single one of his glances, and it soon became disheartening to wait for him to acknowledge her when the thought of her never once crossed his mind.

So she ends up on the steps of their back porch, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the garden, breathing in the silence.

She closes her eyes and succumbs herself to the summer breeze, wondering what she has to do to find a single glimmer of happiness. Her life is just so sad, a labyrinth of betrayal and hurt and heartbreak she can’t ever escape.

Darkness is all she sees when she thinks about her future. There is nothing for her to look forward to. Every day will come and go the same way it has been — unwanted, dreaded, wasted, another failed attempt of contentment. It all seems so hopeless to her now.

The champagne doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to a lonely Y/n, and it isn’t nearly enough to curb her mood, either as she huffs at her empty glass, wishing she had taken another.

She sets it down next to her, placing both her elbows on her knees, getting lost in her world of sorrow, long forgotten by her lover.

Harry is the first one to find her.

He had parked his car across the street from her shared home with Alfie, and even from his distance he knew Y/n wouldn’t be inside. He knows her too well to know she wouldn’t find her place in crowded rooms where the attention is all on her, even if it was all in the comfort of her own home.

And the fact that Alfie didn’t know her senses of belonging well enough to accommodate them made him seeth. She is an independent, a lone wolf, a woman who moves solely in her own way and anybody who’s ever loved her knows that above all else.

He doesn’t care for her.

And he doesn’t need to go looking for her because he can feel her, as if the universe somehow bent its laws of gravity and pushed him straight to her back porch steps, where he finds her all alone.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand fall softly on her shoulder, but immediately sinks into comfort when she sees that it’s Harry moving to sit beside her, his hand refusing to pull away.

Finally, she has a friend.

“Hey.” She says softly, one of the corners of her lips turning slightly upward at his unexpected visit. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He smiles briefly at her before he overlooks the garden, his fingers squeezing at her shoulder before resting his palms over his lap. And there’s something about being next to her again that makes everything around him fall back into place. This is where he’s meant to be.

“Honestly, neither did I, all things considered.” They both let out a chuckle, the atmosphere between them so horrifically sad yet so incredibly right. “But I just really felt like I had to be here for you tonight.”

Despite the years that had passed and everything that drove them apart, Y/n remains who he loves most in this world. His connection to her never died, so the sudden gusts of off and disturbing feelings Harry used to get whenever Y/n was troubled had never left him. He felt it all just as strongly — her anxieties, her fears, her tears and everything in between. And he’s glad that part of them never died because the look in her eye tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s absolutely miserable.

She sighs, the corners of her lips falling as she stares at her engagement ring, her thumb and pinky twisting it around her ring finger, itchy and heavy no matter which way it's worn.

“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”

She didn’t have to say it because he can already see how treacherous they are together, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to hear.

He lost his right to be selfish with her in Malibu, and though he does gain a sense of happiness knowing he may have a chance with her again, it’s significantly outweighed by her sadness. Nothing had ever pained him more than that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shakes her head, her fingers reaching up to tuck fallen pieces of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be. I don’t really know why he decided to do this, anyways.”

Harry’s lips fall.

“Marry you?”

Y/n’s leg begins to shake, her greatest and most absentminded nervous habit. And Harry had always been quick to place his hand over her thigh and rub at the surface, meeting her eye halfway and taking a deep breath in, to which she would always follow. He hesitates to do so tonight, but settles for it anyway.

She looks appreciative beneath it all.

She’d forgotten about Harry’s subtle favors over the past three years, so to feel it all again when she has been so low and neglected feels like a blessing to her. It feels like somebody finally cares for her, and that’s all she had been wanting all along.

Harry, she feels, is the only one who ever truly has.

“We just never talked about it. It was this big, ginormous, unavoidable, life changing question thrown at me with no warning at all.” Her forehead falls to her palms, as if humiliated by the memory. “In front of everybody.”

Harry’s heart crumbles from within him because nothing Alfie has given her has been anything she’s wanted, and that’s not what she deserves.

He remembers it so distinctively now — the way she poured her heart out to him just a few months before Malibu. It was the third Valentine’s Day they’d spent together and Y/n got so drunk, she spent nearly the entire night venting to him about everything she’d feared when it came to her future relationships.

With her head on his shoulder and her leg slung over his hips, Y/n’s thoughts were so destructive, she couldn’t bear to entertain them any longer, so she decided to let it all out.

“And what if my boyfriend proposes to me in a room full of people? I’d drown in sensory overload. And what if I want to say no? Or maybe? Or yes, just not right now? With all those people looking at me? I think I would pass away.”

Harry looked down at her in subtle curiosity, his fingers playing with her hair in the way they always liked. She was the only thing in his sight that wasn’t spinning out of his control.

“So how do you want to be proposed to?”

She hummed, as if contemplating her answer. But she knew. She already knew.

“In bed, probably. It’s so intimate and private there. So non-traditional. You’re the most done down at your first hour and something about someone wanting you at your worst, forever, is so poetic.”

She looked up at him with doe eyes merely seconds after.

“Will you make sure he does that for me, please? Promise me you’ll try.”

He smiled the best he could at her, pressing his lips down to her forehead. They lingered there for a moment, and Y/n’s breath was taken away.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

What makes the memory even worse was how much he really did love her and how blinded he was to it. He kissed her. He held her. He played with her hair. He slept beside her that night. He kissed her again goodnight. He brought her breakfast in bed the next morning. He did it all over again.

It couldn’t have been any more obvious.

But there’s something about the way she hasn’t expressed any of those concerns with Alfie that doesn’t sit right with him. It just doesn’t make any sense to him.

“Been with him for how long now, two years? And you really didn’t expect him to propose to you? Have you met you?”

She sulks herself deeper into her knees.

“I don’t know. I guess — I guess I just never really thought about it.”

Never thought about it?

“But you’ve always wanted to get married.” He says it more like a question than a statement, genuine concern and confusion in his tone of voice as his eyebrows furrow, trying to comprehend it.

She looks up at him with a void, empty expression.

“Yeah, but never to him.”

Her eyes linger on Harry’s for just a beat longer — just long enough to catch a glimpse of the way his lips fall and the way his face drains of color — before she blinks away from him, turning her gaze back toward the garden. The flowers have never looked so lifeless.

“Y/n… if I had known how you felt, I —”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back down at her trembling hands, tears now burning in her eyes as the sudden sadness of the conversation starts to weigh down on her. “You had four years to feel the same for me and you never did. My feelings would have done nothing to yours.”

“And I never did?” Harry asks incredulously, his voice low and faltered behind the heaviness of her words. “Is that really what you’ve been living with the past three years?”

Loose tears begin to fall down her cheeks because yes, she has been living with his unrequited love for six years and no, it’s never gotten any easier. It’s pathetic and ridiculous and the most unexplainable form of grief she’d ever carried, but it’s the most devastating kind. “How could I think any differently?”

“Because it was real, Y/n. Fuck.” He lets out a strangled, dry chuckle upon his words as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair. He’s nervous, absolutely terrified because if he fails to show her how deeply he feels for her now, he may never get the chance to again, and losing her is no longer an option for him. Not when she’s so close. “Because you know me better than anybody else and you know I wasn’t faking it with you. How could I have been? You would have seen right through me and you know it. You always do.”

Perhaps the love blinded her. Perhaps her heart was so invested it deceived her to see only the things she wanted as a subconscious form of self-preservation. It’s not an impossible possibility, and it’s certainly one she believed in throughout all this time, but a part of her can’t help but find a hint of truth stuck somewhere between his words.

The kissing, the touching, the tasting, the laughing and the loving did feel real to her. It felt real when she saw the way he smiled after every one of their kisses, and the way he reached for her when it was just to two of them, like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he moaned against her, and the way he told her he loved her, like he meant it.

She knows all of his movements and all of his habits — knows all the signs of his stress, his sadness, his tension, his ease. She knows the emotions he wears and the ones he doesn’t, notices everything he does and doesn’t do, and never once did anything he did with her seem anything less than genuine.

She hates that it’s taken her so long to see that, but it doesn’t fix all that he had broken now that she does. She wishes that it could, this life would be so much easier for her to live.

“You really hurt me.” Her voice quivers, low and quiet as she speaks her truth, and it breaks his heart all over again. Never has he heard her sound so sad in his life, and it’s all because of him.

“You think I don’t know that? I hate myself for everything I put you through because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He pauses, waiting for her to say anything else, but it doesn’t come. All there is for her to offer are her silent cries and waterfall eyes.

“That night with Lydia… nothing happened. She caught me off guard and I panicked because how could I not? She was giving me everything I thought I wanted yet all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you.” Y/n’s breath falters then, a knot forming in her chest as she revisits the sight of that horrific night. “I tried so hard to talk it out with her, but she wouldn’t let it go. She kept persisting and persisting and she didn’t give me the chance to explain myself before you walked in on us.”

She didn’t truly know what happened between him and Lydia, but she had her ideas. Whether they kissed, touched, confessed their love or crossed bases, the truth would have only made it worse for herself. Ignorance was bliss when it came to them.

But she didn’t think nothing happened, either, especially when the first words that Y/n heard Lydia say to him that night was I love you, too.

Too.

Like he said it first.

She really hopes he didn’t, but she’s so afraid of his answer that she doesn’t ask.

But she doesn’t say anything else, either, because there’s so much more she needs to hear from him but she doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know what to do, yet she wants to know everything.

“You were all I ever wanted and I’m so sorry for the way I had to find that out. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you to realize how ridiculously in love I am with you.”

And how ridiculous it’s gotten.

“It haunts me. It follows me everywhere I go. Every morning, I think about the way you slept beside me in Malibu and how perfect you looked before you even had the chance to wake. I still reach for you even when I know you’re not there just so I can say I tried. Every time I walk the street, I somehow convince myself that I see you walk past me and I always turn back just in case I missed you. Then I spend the rest of my day wondering where you are and how much happier I’d be if you were with me.”

And it’s all so true.

She is around him at all times. Her spirit lingers in the air he breathes, her shadow alive in every ray of sun that touches his skin, unable to be soaked away. The ghost of her is everywhere he is, always, and it pained him just as much as it comforted him.

“I come across all these women and go on all these dates in hopes to find someone that makes me feel half the things you do, just to go home hours later and watch all the stupid videos and photos I’ve taken of you throughout the years because it’s you that my heart is after. Nobody else.”

She melts into herself at his confession.

To know it wasn’t one-sided — the longing, the missing, the wanting so bad that he couldn’t help but look back at all their memories together. Whether he was beside those women or not, she had done the very same thing, and it’s almost as if those hidden moments of desperation were a silent call to one another.

He reaches his hand to her thigh again, his skin warming her to her bitter core, setting a fire in her that had burnt out many years ago. And she doesn’t stop staring at it.

“I love you, Y/n. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in this world. I love you so much that it drove me crazy to think about you spending the rest of your life with somebody else because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of mine without you. But that’s my heartbreak to live with, not yours.”

But it is. It is because he’s the only one she’s ever wanted and living her life with someone else was once unimaginable. It still is. Even through her relationship with Alfie and everything they’ve built together, it wasn’t ever the same.

And it’s not a matter of her not loving him, because she does, just not in the way she loves Harry. He is a high she constantly fiends for, an intoxication that keeps her wild and free, an addiction like no other. Being without him makes her feel sober — in a constant state of withdrawal, falling down deeper into her urges, dependent solely on her relapses — and Alfie is just the mild distraction.

All of this is her heartbreak.

His fingertips rub softly at her leg.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don't know how I’m ever going to find a way to move on from you, and I don’t know if I ever will, but at least I had the chance to tell you everything you deserved to know. I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”

She still doesn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect anything more.

He wishes he could stay with her for just a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome (if he could even call it that). And he starts to cry as he thinks about leaving her alone again.

She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.

“I have so much more I want to say to you, but this is your night with Alfie. I don’t want to be the one to hold you back from it.”

He squeezes the top of her thigh, dreading the let go. This may be the last time he sees her or speaks to her for a while, and that in itself is enough to make this so much harder on him.

“I’ll miss you everyday.”

He can’t even look at her as he says it.

His eyes are flooded with sadness as he stands from where he sat beside her, shaking fingers wiping at his tears, his heart the emptiest it’s ever been yet his chest heavier than ever before.

It suddenly dawns on her that she never wants to see him walk away from her again. She doesn’t want to go another dreaded day without him beside her, or go the rest of the night thinking of everything she could have said, but didn’t.

She wants him. She loves him. And she doesn’t want him to go.

“Wait.” She grabs his hand in both of hers before he can make it too far, her eyes wet but the brightest he’d ever seen them. “The party doesn’t end for a while and — and Alfie hasn’t come looking for me since it started, so…” She hesitates, his hands still in hers, and everything is right in the world again. “Do you want to take a walk with me? It doesn’t matter where just, please stay here with me?”

And how could Harry ever say no to her?

He lifts her up from where she sits, the first real and genuine smile he’s seen out of her since they’ve reunited spreading on her lips, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

They stray further than expected, catching up on everything they’ve missed throughout the years. It all feels so easy and so right, as if time had hardly passed between them, yet they’ve never felt more apart. Never once did they expect to live in each other’s world through late night storytelling and clandestine getaways.

They laugh. They cry. They reminisce. And they don’t let go of each other’s hand the whole night through.

Y/n returns to the back porch a couple hours later, grabbing the finished champagne glass she’d left on the top step to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she necessarily has to, she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything wrong, she just couldn’t imagine what would come from this if Alfie was to find out.

She slides the back door shut quietly behind her, the remaining guests only giving her a small smile of acknowledgement, none at all suspicious. Some offer her hugs and mingle with her, congratulating her as if it were their first time doing so, telling her how perfect of a marriage she and Alfie are going to have.

If only they knew.

But it isn’t until the last of the lingering guests make it out the door that Y/n and Alfie are left alone — the most dangerous place for them to be. And neither of them speak a word to each other, just meeting eyes for a brief moment in time, as if avoiding everything else that came with the night.

The air is heavy, the chill brutal, but it’s what Y/n is so used to. This is her normalcy.

“I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Y/n says plainly, gathering all the littered champagne and wine glasses floating around the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, she would have stood her ground much more strongly, but the bitterness inside her subsided to something much sweeter after her time with Harry. The weight of the world is gone, it seems, the moon and sun and stars aligned perfectly in her universe. She is weightless, floating, her spirit dancing along the edges of her own personal heaven.

The silence Alfie responds with doesn’t strike a nerve like it usually would. It rather goes unnoticed, only furthering her into her illicit dreamland.

Harry’s touch lingers on her skin and she can feel it all the same even though he’s gone. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks back to the way his lips pressed against her cheek before parting ways, muttering the quietest goodnight, lovie against her skin, leaving her breathless.

She is endlessly hypnotized by him, forever under his spell, as if his lips were made of magic.

And Alfie’s heart sinks when he sees the look on her face. It’s been years since he’s seen it, yet it’s all so familiar once he does. It’s the same look he fell in love with when he first met her in Malibu.

It’s all so clear to him now.

“So we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t leave our engagement party with Harry?”

Y/n lifts her head to look at him properly for what seems to be the first time tonight, his question catching her off guard since she had so rightfully assumed he wasn’t concerned about her whereabouts, and Harry didn’t make his presence known to anybody but her.

But she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to scrape for excuses that’ll only dig her in deeper because she doesn’t regret what she did or why she did it. She has no reason to.

“And we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t completely exclude me from our engagement party?”

Alfie’s hands slam against the kitchen counter, a bitter and sarcastic laugh falling from his lips, as if she had said something untrue. “So I don’t give you attention for two minutes and you decide to run off with some other guy?”

“Two minutes? Try two hours on a night that was supposed to be for us.” It’s her turn to slam her hands down, except hers land on her thighs. “I was sitting on our back porch all night and nobody, not even you, came looking for me.” She sits down on the island stool with burnt-out eyes and heavy shoulders, drained from the reality of their relationship, tired of trying for somebody that’s never held her heart the right way. “Harry was miles away and even he found a way to find me.”

And just like always, it all circles back to Harry.

She’s never been one to compare — verbally, at least — so there is a gloom that hovers over her after she says it, the guilt settling in her bones, but it’s the reality of their situation. An old lover held his hand out to her while Alfie refused hers, and it ended up exactly where it had always belonged.

“All you had to do was ask me to be with you.” He sighs, depleted, because it’s true. He would have been there the second she called his name. It’s the fact that she didn’t that shows him how incompatible he is with her wants.

“I shouldn’t have to.” She frowns, fingers fiddling with the skin around her nails as she contemplates what there is to say next. “Is that how this marriage is going to work? Me begging you to be there for me all the time? Because I’ve never been that kind of person. I will never be that person.”

Alfie breathes heavily in response but doesn’t know what else to do or say to get her to stay. She’s slipping right through his fingers and he can physically feel it — can feel the way she feels for another man, can see the way her eyes refuse him, as if hiding away from something.

But this isn’t about him, it can’t be because it was all going so well, so much better than ever before and nothing ever pushed her away, until Harry.

This is all him.

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” Alfie breaks the silence, her heart along with it, because she needs to be reminded how badly he had done her wrong. She wouldn’t be turning him into the villain if she did. “He lied to you. He used you to get what he wanted. He —”

“He does love me.” She interrupts him because she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want him to talk her out of this, no matter how much she should. But it’s on the tip of her tongue, almost breaking from its resistance, and she can’t swallow it back down now. “He was there for me more than you were tonight and he’s not even the one I’m engaged to.”

Another deafening silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He understood her, loud and clear, but she’s speaking between the lines. There’s a part of her that’s holding back from something and he already knows what it is, he just needs to hear her say it.

So she does.

“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”

If the confession of her disloyalty wasn’t enough to tear her apart, the choked back sob she heard from Alfie undeniably did so.

She shuts her eyes, pained, unable to take it.

He doesn’t deserve this, but she’s left with no choice. She’ll only hurt him more if she stays.

So she doesn’t.

The morning after.

Harry didn’t know what was to come after he confessed his love to Y/n — whether it be a new day of a new life away from her, or the beginning of something so beautifully timeless, he had no idea.

The closure warmed him enough to lull him to sleep, to keep him deep in a dreamstate where all he envisioned was sunny days and the touch of her hand in his. He had never felt so light, so free, so liberated from the cage of guilt and unspoken truths that even if he were to never see or hear from Y/n again, it would have been okay.

He said what he needed to say, she heard what she wanted to hear and that’s all he could have done without interfering with her relationship.

But what he wakes up to is far from anything that ever crossed his mind.

Seven missed calls and five text messages. All from Y/n.

H, please tell me you’re awake. I need you.

I ended it with Alfie.

I don’t have anywhere to go and you’re the only person I want to see right now. Can you meet me at the coffee shop? I really need to talk to you.

Please wake up.

Harry sits himself up in a state of panic, his eyes jumping between the time she had messaged him last and the time it is now. And he springs himself out of bed when he realizes that he hasn’t missed out on her yet, planning to get to her as fast as he can as he throws yesterday’s outfit, not at all caring about how it makes him look.

She ended it with Alfie.

He’s the only person she wants to see right now.

She needs him.

That’s all he can process as he scurries down the street, thinking of everything he has left to tell her to try and win her heart again. He knows he’s undeserving of it, and she does too, but that doesn’t stop him from loving her the way that he does.

His life is meaningless without her, so dry and bleak and depressing he can’t live another day like it. He can’t and he won’t because he’s going to fix this. He has to fix this.

And it doesn’t take him long to find her because there she is, sitting at their usual outdoor table, a large hot tea held between her hands, her leg shaking, her eyes distant. It's such a heartbreaking sight, and he suddenly wonders if she ever sat there after their breakup, waiting for him, hoping he’d do the very same.

The thought makes his head twitch to the side and fingers twist with guilt because no, he never did. He never went back to that coffee shop since the goodbye. It would have hurt too much, it would have reminded him of everything he’d ever done wrong and he couldn’t bear to face the person he once made of himself.

That person died along with her.

She stands from her seat when she sees him walking toward her, exhausted mentally and physically enough to nearly fall from her feet in the process. But her heart is racing a million miles an hour, her stomach fluttering as he grows nearer, her senses of anything but the love she has for him disappearing to nothing, as if it were just the two of them.

And she just needs to know if it feels that way for him, too.

“Y/n —”

“Did you mean it?”

Harry hesitates then, stopping in his tracks, his head tilting at her in curiosity but his features are softer, sadder, as if the question somehow broke him down further than before.

She doesn’t need to elaborate because he already understands what she’s asking. It was his mistakes and his selfishness that led her to question all his intentions, to doubt every sentiment he’s ever given to her, to wonder what was real and what was pretend.

But he doesn’t know what to start with, he doesn’t know what she needs to hear from him to be satisfied with his answer, or know if what he doesn’t say is what breaks this relationship.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you meant it.” Y/n demands when he fails to answer her, tears flooding yet her face pressed and hard, committed to hearing every last bit of truth he has left. “Because I gave up everything I had for just the smallest possibility that you did. And that may make me weak, that may make me pathetic, and I may hate myself for the rest of my life knowing I made that decision but I can’t help feeling the way I feel for you.”

This is his last chance.

The window of opportunity is open and he is more than willing to dive head first out of it, but he can’t get ahead of himself. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong anything and he will have to endure an eternity of misery without her.

So he gives her more than she demands.

He grabs her face between his two hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze set on hers so that she can see how deeply he feels for her and how desperate he is for her forgiveness.

“I meant it.” He breathes out, his lips so painfully close to hers, she can feel his breath as he talks and it makes her legs shake from beneath her. “I’m in love with you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.” He leans in closer, ever so slightly, just so the ghost of her lips can meet the ghost of his. “There’s never been anybody but you. Just you. Only you.”

Her breath stammers, quivering and cracking as she flutters her eyes shut at his words, unforgiving tears pouring down her cheeks. And she doesn’t know why she’s reacting this way — the love of her life is giving her everything she’s ever asked for and yet all she can manage to do is break down from everything she’d been keeping inside for so long.

He knees buckle as a particularly violent sob nearly takes her down, and if it wasn’t for Harry’s strong hold on her, she’s sure she would have collapsed to the floor.

Her tears, his shirt, his hands, her back.

This is the closest they’ve been to each other in so long, his heart nearly shatters along with hers. He missed this more than he missed anything else in this world.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Harry shushes her, his lips settling on the top of her head as he presses chaste kisses on it, his fingers combing through her unbrushed hair. “I’m with you, okay? I’m never leaving you again.”

And he holds her for a while, tying her together as she falls apart in his arms, vowing to her over and over again that this is all over. All the pain is over. Everything will be different now.

And it was.

It felt different when Y/n and Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting in their favorite coffee shop, at their favorite table, drinking their favorite lattes. It felt different when Harry reached his hand over to hold hers, this time with no ulterior motive.

It felt different when she held his hand back, and when she smiled down at where they were intertwined, as if they were an extension of each other.

And unlike the last time they were there together, he doesn’t have to let go.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #IM EARLY I KNOW IM SORRY BUT I FINISHED SOONER THAN EXPECTED #WHOOP WHOOP #LOVE YALL

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pigeonp0st · 4 years

Note

Hi I love your fics!❤️

Can I request a WandaxReader where Wanda is still new to the Avengers and so people are still pretty afraid and a little hostile towards her but Reader(a trainee or whatever) is one of the few people who aren’t scared of Wanda and the two end up getting close. Idk if that’s too much or not 😅🤷🏽

Wanda Maximoff x Reader #1

Words: 1,561

Warnings: Food, burn

Notes:

Thank you <3 and thanks for my first Wanda ask! I hope you enjoy. Sorry for all spelling/grammar mistakes ;)

(Imma head to bed now...if I can anyways. I’m super hyper for some reason)

———

There’s a new girl walking around the tower when you come back from your mission. You have to ask Tony to explain everything to you so you can understand why.

Apparently she was their enemy...and then their partner, and now a new avenger. You’re happy to have someone else on the team but everyone else seems...skeptical of her.

They get silent when she walks into a room. They don’t make much of an effort to talk to her, and they’re just all around...petty.

The new girl doesn’t seem to mind though. She just sits still and looks like she’d rather be anywhere else with her eyes darting around the room.

—-

Steve confronts you the day after you try to talk to Wanda during dinner. He warns you that she’s dangerous, and that he doesn’t trust her yet. He says not to become too close to her. The rest of the Avengers agree with him.

You just stare at them in mild disbelief. “Steve,” you tell him, incredibly disappointed in him, and the rest of the avengers, “she has lost everything. She looks lonely and depressed most of the time...how could you—how could you find evil in that?”

Him and the rest of the avengers don’t try and stop you from talking to her after that.

—-

“Train with me, Wanda.”

Wanda looks up from the book she’s been studying with narrowed eyes. “What?”

You grin at her cheekily and hold out a hand, “I wanna kick your ass. You can use your powers.”

Her eyebrow quirks then, surprised and apprehensive, and rightfully so. No one else even considers training with her. “I knew everyone here disliked me but I didn’t think they’d want to…’kick my ass’”

Your eyes widen comically. “I—what—no, no, no, I don’t want to—it’s an expression Wanda I swear, god, of course I don’t want to—I mean I do, but like in a friendly way—”

This, this moment right here is the first time you see her smile. It’s the first time you stop and notice how beautiful Wanda is. It’s the first time making someone else’s smile fills you with such a great sense of accomplishment.

It leaves you unexplainably breathless for a moment.

“I was kidding,” Wanda informs you, taking a hold of your hand and shaking it to seal the deal. It’s the first time you two touch. “I’m going to be the one kicking your ass, Y/N.”

She knows your name. Wanda knows your name. “I’d like to see you try.”

———

Wanda does end up kicking your ass, but she does it gently...if that’s possible. You challenge her again and again after that, only to end up losing each time.

Wanda keeps accepting, even though she looks more and more hesitant each time you ask, like she thinks that maybe this time will be the moment you realize she isn’t worth it. That she’s a monster.

You don’t. You don’t get bitter like she imagined either. You just get up each time with playfulness and a tiny bit of awe and fight again, but you never look at her with fear.

To Wanda, this moment means more than you will ever know. To Wanda, this is the moment she realizes that she wants to keep spending time with you, and that maybe this place won’t be that bad. Maybe she doesn’t have to be miserable any more.

To you, this is where you decide to keep surprising Wanda. Each time you get up again, each time you laugh, every compliment you give to her powers, she lights up just that bit more. You want to be someone Wanda can enjoy.

——

It’s about the fifteenth ass kicking that you decide, breathlessly, that you two try to fight without Wanda using her powers.

Wanda agrees cockily, which is why it’s such a surprise when you manage to knock her flat after the first five seconds.

You laugh loudly at her pout, so hard that your body shakes with it, but you manage to get out, between fits of laughter; “why the fuck were you so confident?”

Wanda rolls her eyes at you and kicks your feet out from under you but you couldn’t care less. You’re too busy laughing, and she joins in after a moment.

When the two of you calm down you turn your head to look at her. Her cheeks are flushed from laughing, and her hair is messy on the ground, but to you; she has never looked more beautiful. She has never looked so happy.

“I’ll train you,” you promise her, offering a smile that’s gentler than you intended.

Wanda nods, suddenly sheepish. “And i’ll train you.”

You remind her softly that you can’t use powers like her, but she smirks at you deviously like she’s already very much aware.

“I was not talking about your fighting skills,” Wanda huffs. “I tried one of the cookies you made the other day...and let’s just say they were not very good.”

The glare you send her way isn’t like the ones the avengers have been giving her—it’s completely playful. “I doubt that you’re baking skills are much better.”

“You will see.”

—-

Wanda is awful at baking you learn. The lesson she tried to give you ended with the kitchen almost burned down and the entire avenger squad rushing into the smoke filled kitchen.

What they come to see is Wanda, covered in flour, glaring at black bundles of ash that were meant to be cookies, and you doubled over in laughter in no less of a state of messiness.

Wanda swats at the back of your head, not noticing the avengers, and you try to hug her consoling despite your laughter.

Thus, the avengers realize with no small amount of amusement, that maybe Wanda can be trusted.

No villain can look that upset over burnt cookies, and no villain can look at someone with that amount of softness.

—-

The avengers warm up to Wanda quickly once they actually start talking to her, but she always clearly prefers to spend her training with you, and she never stops your baking session, even despite how awfully they always go.

You’ve also developed... feelings... for Wanda. It must be obvious to the rest of the avengers but it doesn’t seem to be as obvious to Wanda herself.

At least, you don’t think it is. You don’t think she likes you like that anyways...

Well, not until about your tenth baking lesson with her.

—

She’s grinning at you with the amount of joy you’ve finally become accustomed to seeing on her, and holding out (with her adorable mittens) the first set of non-burnt cookies that you two have ever made.

She looks so accomplished and so smug that you can’t help it. You kiss her. Right there in the compounds kitchen, with flour all around, and sugar in your hairs.

You kiss her and she kisses you back, tasting like your favorite dinner, and hot chocolate on a winter day. Kissing her is like coming home after a long day out, kissing her is like coming up for air after being underwater for much too long, kissing her is like—

“Ow!” You yell, pulling away abruptly and looking down at the red burn mark on your hand.

Wanda stands there blinking for a couple of moments, first at your lips, then at your burn mark, and then at the still hot ban still in her grasp.

When she’s able to snap out of her daze she sets the pan down and hugs you, with your burned hand between your bodies. “Sorry,” Wanda whispers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” It wasn’t. You were just too overwhelmed kissing her to remember the pan she was holding. Speaking of… “would you like—to you know...do that again sometime?”

Wanda releases you from her hug to give you an amused smile. “I’ll do you one better,” she says, cupping your cheek. “Be my girlfriend?”

You certainly weren’t expecting that. “Shouldn’t we at least go on a date first?”

Wanda tilts her head, confused and hesitant. “Haven’t we gone on ten now?”

You gape at her, bewildered. “I—um...I didn’t know...you know what, never mind. Let’s just...you’re my girlfriend now. Okay?”

This was not how you were expecting your day to go, but you're not even close to disappointed because Wanda gives you a beaming smile and nods her head repeatedly before drawing you back in for another kiss.

She pulls away after a moment. “I know they weren’t dates, but they might as well have been now, right?”

You wonder if everything you say to each other is going to be a question, and whether or not she’s doing this on purpose.

“Right.”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” you agree, rolling your eyes playfully. “Wanna treat my hand for me now that this is all settled, and since you're the one who burned me?”

“You said that wasn’t my fault!” Wanda huffs.

“Yes, well now that I want something from you it is.”

“Ah, I see. That’s how it works.”

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

You flick her gently between the brows with your non-injured hand. “Stop it.”

Wanda smirks. “Or what, you’ll fight me about it? Do you think it’ll be your first win?”

“Dickhead.”

“Very professional, Y/N. Very professional.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #marvel x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #marvel x female reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #marcel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #imagine #female reader #fem reader

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albinaretyunskikh · 3 years

Text

These past two weeks have been hard to witness with everything happening in the world. When I feel emotionally overwhelmed, I try to take a step back. I tried to watch the Olympics with an open heart and an open mind and all the support and excitement I think such an immense competition deserves. The female figure skating event, however, was anything but supportive and exciting.

Kamila Valieva, representing the Russian Olympic Committee, was set to be the star of the event. She beat other skaters by dozens of points and became the first girl to land quadruple jumps in the Olympics. She was favoured to win by a landslide.

She and all the Russian girls are coached by the same woman, Eteri Tutberidze. She is known for her very strict coaching methods, which have been called abusive and excessive.

When news of Kamila’s failed drug test from December came out (there was a trace of a banned heart medication in it), I took a breath and wanted to wait for the results of the investigation.

Immediately, I saw so much vitriol online: the Russians did it again. Russia can’t compete fairly. Dirty dopers. Dirty athletes. They strip everyone else of a chance to win.

I took a step back. Not as a Russian. Not as a patriot. In fact, I find patriotism a rotten and flawed value with no basis in fact: no one chooses where they are born. Hence, feeling pride to be from somewhere seems to me like a made up belief that has cost lives and destroyed civilizations.

But I can see, without a shred of a doubt, how much Russia’s pervasive history of doping paired with its inhumane and indecent internal and foreign politics has played a role in the Olympics. Kamila is 15 years old. She is a child. Yet she endured so much vitriol in these past two weeks, poison not even a grown up could bear.

A few days ago, after days of stress, she was cleared to compete. The event included one more girl than the usual number of contestants to ensure she didn’t take anyone’s spot. Several doctors have said that the drug could not have helped her in any way. Because of her young age, she was given a chance to compete. Again, statements from the United States, other countries and other athletes started pouring in. And it got to a point where her humanity as a child was not even taken into account.

In the past few days, new information came out. She had 3 heart medications in her system at the time, and it is now believed she could have a heart disease which was hidden and undisclosed, and she was given these drugs without her knowledge by her family and entourage.

Russian propaganda channels are saying she took her grandfather’s medication by mistake, and that she even inherited the drugs. Absolute absurdity.

Meanwhile, American news coverage of the event portrayed her as a cheater, with insinuations that she took someone else’s spot in the event and should have not been allowed to compete. Opinion pieces came out pouring, saying she will lose even if she wins, and her medals could be revoked in the future.

What I saw, as a human being — not as a Russian, not as a Canadian resident, not as a consumer of American news — was a child who has been at the center of a massive scandal, enduring hatred and vitriol no one should face.

Today, Kamila was so visibly stressed and distraught, she fell multiple times, and crunched up crying after her performance. Her coach was more concerned about her own reputation and scolded her after she came off ice. She ended up in 4th place, and the medal ceremony took place since she was off the podium.

Now, everyone is on their high horse saying how sorry they are for her. EVERYONE, from her family, to her doctors, to her team, to the reporters and everyone who expressed their views on this event should take one hard look in the mirror for how this girl has been treated over these Olympics.

Everyone. Because even if your morals are in the right place, this child has been demonized and her spirit was broken, and she might not recover mentally and ever skate again after this. This was a failure on all fronts. And the only victim here is her. She is a child.

I hope a further investigation will yield results and she will get the support she needs. My heart truly, truly aches for her. I cried this morning looking at her. She is a child. A creature of God. She didn’t deserve any of this.

#kamila valieva #olympic #olympics #olympic medals #figure skating #albinaretyunskikhreflections

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linkspooky · 4 years

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Yuta vs Yuji

(They are both Good Boys ™ and that’s the Problem ™ )

As this week the boys are still fighting, I thought it would be interesting to take a more in depth look at both of their characters and how they compare and contrast with each other. Yuta and Yuji are both protagonists who have protagonistic motivations. Their central conflict, Itadori’s struggle to find a good death surrounded by people he loves, and Yuta’s struggle to be surrounded by people he loves and protects them, relates to protecting the people they love and the world around them. However, that’s also what drives them into conflict with each other. They both view themselves as “the hero” even in conflicts such as the fight against each other, where there is really no good guy.

1. I want to live / I want to die

Yuta and Yuji are opposites in their stated motivation. Yuta’s goal is to find a way to live a happy life, surrounded by the people he loves. Yuji’s goal is to find a way to die surrounded by people he’s helped in life.

Not only are their stated motivations opposites however, on the outside they are both the opposite in several ways. Yuji is someone who is known for his strength whereas Yuta is immediately remarked upon as the type to get bullied. Yuji is immediately remarked upon for his cheerful disposition, whereas everyone who knows Yuta picks on him at first and notices how gloomy he is.

Yuji is someone who seems to make friends and connect with people almost immediately, whereas Yuta is someone who it probably took him a long time to start getting along with Maki and Inumaki based on what we see in the prequel. Maki challenges him at first, and Yuta doesn’t understand Inumaki at first.

Yuta is passive, and Yuji is active. Yuji is known for running after people to save them. Yuta’s actually not as motivated to save random strangers as Yuji is, he’s simply going along with becoming a Jujutsu Sorcerer because that will help his goals, 1) to make new friends and find a reason to live 2) to release Rika.

The difference between them even manifests in the way they became cursed. Yuji actively chose to swallow a curse, because he wanted to help Megumi and needed the power to do so. It was a decision he made. Yuta was the one who cursed Rika yes, but not only was it a jujutsu technique he used unconsciously, he also forgot about it and blamed Rika for cursing him instead.

Which is also something that reflects in the central flaws of both characters. Yuta is someone with a victim complex. He tends to avoid taking direct responsibility for his actions and blaming it on someone else. He acts passive in almost every situation, and doesn’t accept that it may be his fault. Which is why he misremembered what happened to Rika. Yuta could not accept the idea that he was to blame for cursing Rika, so he blamed Rika in his memories instead for cursing him.

It’s been outlined by Maki before Yuta’s victim complex, but basically he reads as a nice person on the surface by pretending to be innocent when he’s not. Which is why she says his goodness feels fake, and he himself feels gross. Yuta kind of just, represses and ignores the bad parts of his personality, to seem like a hapless victim. Of course Yuta is not good or bad, he’s just a dude. But, Maki even goes further to point out Yuta himself doesn’t even seem to know who he wants to be.

Yuta’s central character flaw is that he never accepts responsibility for his own actions. He has no self confidence and because of that he has a really tough time standing up as an individual.

When he can learn to control his power, and stand on his own two feet rather than just avoiding responsibility and acting like a victim with no control over his situation. Yuta begins to change, but I think he also elevates his friends far beyond himself.

He aspires to be like his friends, but he also feels like they’re already better than him and he’s unworthy. Which is why he’s constantly insecure about the relationship and needs to protect them. Yuta believes himself to be weak, he sees himself as a weak person, and so in every situation he tends to assume he’s the weak one or a weak victim which makes it hard for him to see what he’s responsible in those situation.

On the other hand Yuji takes almost too much repsonsibility. Rather than trying to depend on others, Yuji is always, running ahead on his own and that’s where he makes his mistakes.

He thought he was strong enough to take down Choso on his own. He wasn’t. He thought he was strong enough mentally to prevent Sukuna from rampaging, he wasn’t. Yuji’s mistakes always come from taking on more responsibility than he can handle, and then letting things fall out of his control.

Yuta’s irresponsible because he sees himself as a victim and doesn’t understand how strong he is, Yuji’s irresponsible because he constantly overestimates what he himself can handle.

If you take the scene after Yuji dies the first time into account. Sukuna outlines several facts. One, that Yuji is not actually strong enough to suppress him. Two, that he rampaged against Megumi specifically because Yuji got cocky and tried to use his power without using a binding vow and think it through. Three, that Yuji overestimates himself and his capability to keep Sukuna down and because of it, he agrees to a simple terms of “If I defeat you inside my own body you revive me with no conditions” and then just immediately dies.

All of this of course being foreshadowing for what happens after the Choso fight. Once again, Yuji overestimates himself and how he can win the fight fighting alone. Halfway through Yuji gets overwhelmed and Sukuna surfaces. When Sukuna surfaces he rampages, because Yuji did not even think of the possibility that Sukuna might rampage if he died or lost consciousness, and therefore there was no binding vow in place to stop him. It’s not because Yuji is a bad kid, but because he is a kid, and doesn’t know better. He acts like any fifteen year old would dealing with a 1000 year old spirit that’s much smarter than him. But it’s also a case of Yuji thinking everything comes down to strength and he can beat Sukuna just by being stronger, when Yuji actually solves none of his problems by fighting alone, and all of his major victories come from fighting together with others.

Yuji and Yuta are even opposites in regards to their curses. Rika loves Yuta and wants to protect him. He loses control of her because he’s too scared to face her, and has no idea how to begin controlling his power, which is once again this flaw that Yuta’s fear is a fear of taking responsibility. Yuji on the other hand his curse Sukuna loathes his guts, and is constantly trying to undermine him. Yuji’s problem is again and again he’s proven to underestimate Sukuna, he’s not afraid enough of Sukuna because Yuji himself considers himself a strong person and overestimates what he can be responsible for. Rika is an ally outside of Yuta, and Sukuna is an enemy within Yuji.

However, after going to such length to establish them as opposites they have one central similiarity. Both of them are incredibly lonely people. They can’t really make friends or connections normally.

Yuta has this fear of living alone, and Yuji this fear of dying alone.

They both only form relationships on the basis that they’re needed. Which is why Yuta goes so insane about protecting his friends. Which is why Yuji keeps focusing on death above all else, because that’s their true “purpose” that underlies their stated motivations. They’re both doing this because they are afraid of being alone.

However, they both need to prove that they are “worthy” of love. In order to do that, they need to be good, useful people. Thus they are heroes, thus they are good guys, thus they are protagonists.

Yuji becomes so insanely motivated to fight after Sukuna’s rampage, because if he doesn’t help someone, if he doesn’t justify his decision to keep on living somehow they’re just a murderer. Both Yuta and Yuji don’t really care about the world or circumstances around them, they just want to be validated by the people around them.

Yuta is a deeply selfish person, because he just wants other people around him to tell him it’s okay to live. However, he’s also just a suicidal fifteen year old kid in the first place, any kid his age would feel that way, would need that support and he shouldn’t need to earn it. That’s what he misunderstands. However, Yuji and Yuta keep trying to seek external validation. They keep trying to earn love rather than having it given to them.

It’s what Yuta completely fails to internalize after his fight with Geto. The lesson he needed to learn was that there was more to the world around him than just protecting the people he loved, but it seems coming back to both of those people he loved being hurt has caused him to double down on “protecting the ones he loved” vs “thinking about what is justice”.Yuta’s still stuck in this mode where he has to earn love, and that becomes his first priority in everything.

The problem with making the decision to ignore justice is that you can end up at the wrong side of the equation. Yuji is Yuta. He’s another victim who allowed a curse to rampage because he was cursed as a teenager and could not control his own power and people ended up dying for it.

However, because Yuta only understands that his friends have been hurt, and refuses to understand Yuji as both a victim and a person outside of himself he accepts his role of executioner.

Yuta was the person who was going to be executed a year ago. The only reason he didn’t was because Gojo gave him a chance and extended a helping hand. However we’re now seeing Yuta take the opposite path. he’s made the decision to become executioner, to not save when he himself was saved. Which is just sad because Yuta and Yuji are character foils.

A conflict against Yuji, the other main character, is really just Yuta fighting himself. Yuta cannot forgive himself for the crime of being weak, and therefore he blames Yuji for being like he was a year ago. Yuta still doesn’t know how to stand strong on his own, to accept that his friends love him for who he is, so he’s still trying to earn love by avenging them and acting overprotective against Yuji, when we know Inumaki was friends with Yuji and probably would not want him to be hunted down and killed.

Yuta and Yuji are both seemingly completely selfless people who can come off as rather self centered when you examine their deeper motivations (they do what they do, because they want to be loved and needed) but it doesn’t come from a place of ego, it’s just that they’re lonely. They can’t feel accepted for who they are so they both try to be heroes instead.

#jjk meta #jujutsu kiasen meta #jujutsu kaisen #itadori yuji #okkotsu yuta #jujutsu kaisen theory #jjk 138 spoilers #jjk 137 spoilers #jjk 138 #jjk 137

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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

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Katniss, bravely stepping inbetween Gale and Thread (and his whip) - she’s so courageous and protective, she deserves the world 😭

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and (many) random thoughts on chapters 7-9 are below the cut. (Is it just me, or are my notes getting longer and longer with each and every post? I swear, this book is so meaty, we’ll soon reach the point where I have to type out the entire chapter, with my thoughts in the margins)

heart

“Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else in unthinkable.”

I think these words are a result of Katniss being so afraid of losing Gale that she’s kinda overcompensating; their relationship has been strained these past few months and they’d just had a row, separating from each other on bad terms - and the next time she sees him, he’s been whipped so bad that he’s lost consciousness and could be potentially dying from his wounds. Of course she’s so terrified of losing him, that she’s holding on as tightly as she can to him. It’s important to keep in mind how important their relationship is to her and we see that in her preceding thoughts: What a pair we were - fatherless, frightened, but fiercely commited, too, to keeping our families alive. Desperate, yet no longer alone after that day, because we’d found each other. I think of a hundred moments in the woods, lazy afternoons fishing, the day I taught him to swim, that time I twisted my knee and he carried me home. Mutually counting each other, watching each other’s backs, forcing each other to be brave. - Gale was the first person who was her equal, a kindred spirit, her partner. After Katniss had lost both of her parents when her father died and her mother succumbed to her depression - the people who were supposed to care for her and guide her through growing up - she was stuck with the role of sole provider and protector of her family at age eleven. She must have been so lonely all this time until she met this boy who understood what she was going through and they learned from each other and shouldered their burdens together, to take off some of the overwhelming pressure. Of course that relationship, of course Gale is important to her. But also now their relationship has become more fragile, after the Games they are in danger of growing apart - it’s got to be so terrifying to feel like the one proper, mutual relationship you’ve had seems to be slipping through your fingers. With everything that’s going on, her entire life as it is teetering on the razor’s edge (heck, the president himself has been threatening her and her family!), it’s no wonder that Katniss is craving that familiarity and safety that her relationship with Gale used to provide her with. And seeing Gale in this state just has her holding on to him more tightly than ever.

mind

Hmm, no big moment is coming to my mind right now; I think I’m always most impressed by the tiny moments that show how tenacious, resilient and fiercely kind humans can be - like Darius stepping forward to stop Gale’s cruel punishment, Leevy volunteering to tell Hazelle about Gale and promising to stay with the Hawthorne children, Madge bringing the morphling, Katniss pressing Darius’s hand in the Training Center, Twill taking Bonnie with her to flee to D13 and so on.

soul

I believe that Katniss was honestly surprised to learn that Gale had feelings for her; she had categorically shut down the idea of entering a romantic relationship for herself, so I don’t think she’d seriously consider anyone being romantically interested in her in return (that’s not how that works, of course, but I think that’s how she perceived the whole shtick). Their kiss threw her completely for a loop and if anything, she mostly saw it as something that contributed to the deterioration of their previous, easy and comfortable relationship.

Chapter 7

A mockingjay is a creature the Capitol never intended to exist. [...] They hadn’t anticipated its will to live. - In a way, the Capitol continues to make this mistake with the people living in the districts, too - underestimating their will to live (opposed to just surviving)

I look in his [Gale’s] eyes. His temper can’t quite mask the hurt, the sense of betrayal he feels at my engagement to Peeta. This will be my last chance, this meeting today, to not lose Gale forever. - Okay, we don’t know how much Katniss might be (incorrectly) presuming here, but the idea that Gale might feel betrayal because his best friend is being forced into an engagement pisses me off. It’s fine if he’s feeling jealous because she’s being paired off with Peeta when he wishes he could have a shot with her, but how in the world does this even rate as a betrayal?! A) It’s done against her will and B) Just because they’re friends doesn’t mean Katniss owes him anything when we’re talking about romantic feelings... Ugh 😒 Also, it’s quite noteworthy how insecure Katniss feels about their relationship - she’s constantly worried Gale will drop her and their friendship (waiting for Gale after the camera teams left after winning the Games: I’d begun to think that he’d given up on me in the weeks that had passed.- Ch. 2) and it doesn’t help that she’s been through that extreme, traumatic experience without him and they haven’t had much opportunity to spend a lot of time with each other (with the Victory Tour and Gale having to work so much) and when they do hang out, they don’t seem to really talk much, which doesn’t exactly help...

He [Gale] tosses the gloves on my lap. “Here. I don’t want your fiancé’s old gloves.” “He’s not my fiancé. That’s just part of the act. And these aren’t his gloves. They were Cinna’s,” I say. “Give them back, then, he says. - Gale can be so petty sometimes 🙄

While I talk, [...] [Gale] occupies himself with turning the food in the leather bag into a meal for us. Toasting bread and cheese, coring apples, placing chestnuts in the fire to roast. I watch his hands, his beautiful, capable fingers. Scarred, as mine were before the Captiol erased all marks from my skin, but strong and deft. [...] Hands I trust. - Oh boy, this moment really shows how these two are at cross purposes right now - Gale’s prepping the food as you would for a toasting (romantic connotation), while Katniss is oberserving his hands, thinking how their hands used to match (not anymore!) and basically wishing herself back into the time before the Games, when things were ‘simpler’/more clearly defined (and also platonic!); there is nothing romantic from her P.O.V. - it’s all about the friendship and trust

[Gale] steps in and I feel myself lifted off the ground. The room spins, and I have to lock my arms around Gale’s neck to brace myself. He’s laughing, happy. “Hey!” I protest, but I’m laughing, too. Gale sets me down but doesn’t release his hold on me. “Okay, let’s run away.” [...] “You’re sure?” I say. [...] “I’m sure. I’m completely, entirely, one hundred percent sure.” - Yeah, and I’m sure you’re not going to change your opinion in the next five minutes, Gale... In his defense, Gale didn’t know all the details, so in that regard it’s totally valid that he might decide to change his mind after having more input... It’s just that Katniss specifically asks him whether he’s sure and his reply is so full of conviction (100% sure!), only for him to do a complete 180 just a couple of minutes later; Gale’s very hot and cold, which makes for such a harsh contrast when compared to Peeta’s more measured reaction later in the chapter

He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. [...] I don’t try to move away. Why should I, anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. “I love you.” That’s why. - Oh man, Katniss just can’t catch a break 😞 Really not wise of Gale to drop the L-bomb here (after, what? a kiss they never talked about and little else... their communication is truly abysmal and it’s really damaging to their relationship, hurting the both of them)

“Gale, I can’t think about anyone that way now. All I can think about, every day, is how afraid I am. And there doesn’t seem to be room for anything else. If we could get somewhere safe, maybe I could be different. I don’t know.” I can see him swallowing his disappointment. “So, we’ll go. We’ll find out.” - I mean, honestly, I totally understand where Katniss is coming from - she doesn’t need a romantic interest, she needs a partner, which is why she’s been so eager to talk to her hunting partner, someone she’s used to rely on for survival and now he’s also confounding their relationship by introducing that romance-angle (as if it wasn’t bad enough that her relationship with Peeta got kind of messed up when that same angle was forced upon them prematurely)... Also, telling how Katniss thinks she’d have to be different to maybe even consider a romantic relationship with Gale - Katniss as she is right now just can’t see herself wanting to be with Gale romantically; it would require a change... I’ve got to give Gale credit for still going along with it, and trying to push past his disappointment, though

“My [Gale’s] mother is going to take some convincing.” [...] “Mine, too. I’ll just have to make her see reason. Take her for a long walk. Make sure she understands we won’t survive the alternative.” “She’ll understand. I watched a lot of the Games with her and Prim. She won’t say no to you,” says Gale. - That’s interesting, I wonder what exactly Gale means by that? That Mrs. Everdeen won’t say no to Katniss because she feels guilty that Katniss had to go through the Games or because watching her daughter compete in the Games really made her realize how messed up Panem is? Or that she’s more inclined to trust Katniss’s judgement after everything that has happened?

“Haymitch will be the real challenge.” “Haymitch?” Gale abandons the chestnuts. “You’re asking him to come with us?” “I have to, Gale. I can’t leave him and Peeta because they’d-” His scowl cuts me off. “What?” “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how large our party was,” he snaps at me. - Gale doesn’t seem to have realized how close and important Peeta and Haymitch have become to Katniss... maybe because they never properly talked about this aspect of Katniss’s life (I swear, their shoddy communication must account for at least half of the damage their relationship has taken in these past few months alone)

“What if he [Peeta] decides to stay?” he [Gale] asks. I try to sound indifferent, but my voice cracks. “Then he stays.” “You’d leave him behind?” Gale asks. “To save Prim and my mother, yes,” I answer. “I mean, no! I’ll get him to come.” “And me, would you leave me?” Gale’s expression is rock hard now. - Boy, oh boy! I think Gale knows (like Peeta) that Katniss could never leave behind the people she cares about; then, he’s kind of gauging whether Peeta has already received the Katniss Everdeen Stamp of ‘Caring’ - and, as it turns out, he has! And then Gale ends up making it into a bit of competition by asking her whether she would leave him behind (or, alternately, her turning him down has him confused about the depth of their relationship, I dunno); not fun

“There’s an uprising in Eight?” he [Gale] says in a hushed voice. I try to backpedal. To defuse him, as I tried to defuse the districts. - Katniss is going to be about as successful as she’d been at defusing the districts, too - But here we have another example of Katniss trying to rein in Gale’s temper because she’s afraid he’s going to get himself in trouble (like when she decided not to tell him about Snow’s visit to her house because she was worried what he’d do with that information)... It’s really not great that she feels the need to censor herself so he won’t do something dangerous... Katniss knows first-hand how badly impulsive actions and decisions can be received in the Capitol - and she never even meant for a rebellion to happen!

“And it’s my fault, Gale. Because of what I did in the arena. If I had just killed myself with those berries, none of this would’ve happened. Peeta could have come home and lived, and everyone else would have been safe. too.” “Safe to do what?” he says in a gentler tone. “Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping? You haven’t hurt people - you’ve given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it. - Katniss is taking all the responsibility upon herself again... Gale is right to point out that she was merely a catalyst, not the cause for the rebellion - the cause are the awful living conditions of the people in the districts

“Stop it! You don’t know what you’re saying. The Peacekeepers outside of Twelve, they’re not like Darius, or even Cray! The lives of district people - they mean less than nothing to them!” I say. “That’s why we have to join the fight!” he answers harshly. “No! we have to leave here before they kill us and a lot of other people, too!” [...] “You leave, then, I’d never go in a million years.” [...] “What about your family?” “What about the other families, Katniss? The ones who can’t run away?” - This discourse is so painful because they are both right - Katniss has seen more of the districts and how things are handled beyond the (relatively tame) confines of D12 and it’s fair that she wants to know that the people she cares about are safe from harm; Gale, of course, has a point commenting that not everyone has that opportunity and the only way to have a long-lasting, wide-spread improvement of their conditions is through rebelling against their oppressor - but that will inevitably come along with sacrifices and collateral damage and it’s easy to say that it will be worth it in the long run, but when those who are hurt/dead could end up being your loved ones, it’s definitely easier said than done

He throws Cinna’s gloves at my feet. “I changed my mind. I don’t want anything they made in the Capitol.” And he’s gone. I look down at the gloves. Anything they made in the Capitol? Was that directed at me? Does he think I am now just another product of the Capitol and therefore something untouchable? The unfairness of it all fills me with rage. But it’s mixed up with fear over what kind of crazy thing he might do next. - Gale getting rid of Cinna’s gloves just because they are from the Capitol is a prime example of this “us vs. them” mindset that he will be (worringly) fast to adopt - of course, perceiving the opposite side as “other” will make it easier to fight against them; however, it’s all too easy to lose sight of your opponent’s humanity when you think like that (think of how Gale has a hard time understanding Katniss’s distress upon seeing her prep team being treated so terribly/inhumanely in D13); Katniss feeling upset that Gale might perceive her as a product of the Capitol instead of its victim is understandable (and isn’t that exactly what the inhabitants of D13 are going to think of Peeta in MJ?) - and yet, she is still worried Gale could get himself into trouble with his impulsivity; she’s a good bean

”Going to town?” I ask. “Yes. I’m supposed to eat dinner with my family,” he [Peeta] says. - I’m tripping over the word ‘supposed’ here - it doesn’t sound like Peeta’s looking forward to hanging out with his fam, although it can’t be that often, since they’ve been away on Victory Tour and he is living alone (maybe the end of the chapter will give us another hint why that is 😒😒)... I can’t help but wonder whether these family dinners are mainly for public perception (in that case... it really is no wonder Peeta is so good at playing the cameras - poor guy had to fool the outside world his entire life) or because they are the only chance for Peeta to hang out with any of the members of his family he might actually want to spend some time with

“Peeta, if I asked you to run away from the district with me, would you?” Peeta takes my arm, bringing me to a stop. He doesn’t need to check my face to see if I’m serious. “Depends on why you’re asking.” President Snow wasn’t convinced by me. There’s an uprising in District Eight. We have to get out,” I say. “By ‘we’ do you mean just you and me? No. Who else would be going?” he asks. - Peeta doesn’t just blindly agree to Katniss’s proposal; he needs to know what’s going on first (he has been burnt before - no more secrets!) - and it’s a testament to how well he knows her that as soon as he’s asking whether she meant just the two of them, he corrects himself because knows that Katniss would never leave the ones she cares about behind

“What about Gale?” he says. “I don’t know. He might have other plans,” I say. Peeta shakes his head and gives me rueful smile. “I bet he does. Sure, Katniss, I’ll go.” I feel a slight twinge of hope. “You will?” “Yeah. But I don’t think for a minute you will,” he says. [...] “Then you don’t know me. Be ready. It could be any time.” - Telling how Peeta immediately agrees to the plan once he gathers that Gale won’t come - he knows that Katniss cares about Gale and could never leave him behind, ergo she’d never actually leave under these circumstances - he knows her so well. Also, Katniss’s reaction is like that of a petulant child, it’s kind of funny 😄

“Katniss, hold up.” [...] “I really will go, if you want me to. I just think we better talk it through with Haymitch. Make sure we won’t be making things worse for everyone.” - Ultimately, Peeta would follow Katniss to the ends of the earth - doesn’t mean that he can’t throw in a sensible suggestion in there as well 😉 (Also, in the next chapter we will see how Katniss, Gale, and Peeta might be a little too inexperienced/naive to be able to form accurate expectations of what is to come - Haymitch and his generation have a little more experience in that regard)

He raises his head. “What’s that?” [...] I haven’t noticed the strange noise coming from the square. A whistling, the sound of an impact, the intake of breath from a crowd. “Come on,” Peeta says, his face suddenly hard. I don’t know why. I can’t place the sound, even guess at the situation. But it means something bad to him. - Why does my sweet boy know what a whipping sounds like, Suzanne, huh?! Care to explain that? 😭

Peeta steps up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offers me a hand while he scans the square. I’m halfway up when he suddenly blocks my way. “Get down. Get out of here!” He’s whispering, but his voice is harsh with insistence. - Peeta was offering his hand to help Katniss up the crate because they are a team (and he’s a gentleman)! It’s only when he recognizes who is receiving those lashes and realizes that Katniss will lose her shit once she knows, which could make the current situation even worse, that he urges her to leave, and he is not the only one to think that: - Voices hiss. “Get out of here, girl.” “Only make it worse.” What do you want to do? Get him killed?”

Chapter 8

It’s too late to stop the arm from descending, and I instinctively know I won’t have the power to block it. Instead I throw myself directly between the whip and Gale. I’ve flung out my arms to protext as much of his broken body as possible, so there’s nothing to deflect the lash. I take the full force of it across the left side of my face. - Katniss is so selfless; she knows that it’s either Gale getting hit again or a lash to her own face and she chooses the latter

“Hold it!” a voice barks. Haymitch appears and trips over a Peacekeeper lying on the ground. It’s Darius. [...] He’s knocked out but still breathing. What happened? Did he try to come to Gale’s aid before I got here? - Haymitch sure appeared quickly - I can easily imagine Peeta taking off immediately to get him (or send someone to bring him to the square) once he knew Katniss couldn’t be stopped; but if Haymitch had been at his house in Victor’s Village, there is no way he’d have made that quickly to the square... maybe he was already at the Hob and had gotten wind of the whole situation? Also, poor Darius! Wearing a uniform/being in some sort of position of power is no guarantee you won’t get punished as soon as you show the tiniest glimpse of compassion - in a place like Panem, nobody is safe from the caprice of the people in charge

I see a flicker of recognition in the eyes of the man with the whip. [...] it wouldn’t be easy to identify me as the victor of the last Hunger Games. Especially with half my face swelling up. But Haymitch has been showing up on television for years, and he’d be difficult to forget. - Getting Haymitch truly was the smartest move to make (which is why I’m pretty sure it was a move on Peeta’s part - he’d know how to use reminders of ‘appearances’ to ensure a punishment wouldn’t go ‘too far’, y’know 😢). But also - Thread must have lived under a flipping rock, to not being able to recognizes Katniss (her face must have been plastered all over the place during the Victory Tour, which just had concluded recently) - or he was just too in the heat of the moment, with someone opposing him, bleugh 😒

“He [Gale] was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man. “He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.” - I love how Peeta’s just laying it down as it is; his phrasing just sounds so factual, rather than provocative (although it is, of course); he really has a way with words - Maybe we’re it. The only three people in the district who could make a stand like this. Although it’s sure to be temporary. There will be repercussions. - Haymitch, Peeta, and Katniss working together as a team again! Also, a good example of the effect people with public influence can have

One [Peacekeeper], a woman named Purnia who eats regularly at Greasy Sae’s, steps forward stiffly. “I believe, for a first offense, the required number of lashes has been dispensed, sir. Unless your sentence is death, which we would carry out by firing squad.” “Is that the standard protocol here?” asks the Head Peacekeeper. “Yes, sir,” Purnia says, and several others nod in agreement. I’m sure none of them actually know because, in the Hob, the standard protocol for someone showing up with a wild turkey is for everybody to bid on the drumsticks. - It’s kinda nice to see the local Peacekeepers supporting Purnia’s claim to get this display to stop - this is the only way out of this situation where Thread’s authority is not openly challenged (and we know Thread doesn’t take well to having his authority challenged - see Darius)

There’s no stretcher, but the old woman at the clothing stall sells us the board that serves as her countertop. “Just don’t tell where you got it,” she says, packing up the rest of her goods quickly. Most of the square has emptied, fear getting the better of compassion. But after what happened, I can’t blame anyone. - It’s sad how that air of intimidation makes people want to mask their acts of compassion (and also says a lot about the precariousness of the existing living situations if that old lady is still selling that board - I’d never even consider exchanging money for that, but that’s probably my privileged situation showing here; Katniss brings up the theme of fear vs compassion - very fitting, since it seems to be her driving force (although, generally, her compassion wins out over her fear) and despite her assertion that fear appears to be getting the better of compassion we see a good amount of people reaching out to help, such as the following example:

Leevy, a girl who lives a few houses down from mine in the Seam, takes my arm. My mother kept her little brother alive last year when he caught the measles. “Need help getting back?” Her gray eyes are scared but determined. - The subtle suggestion here that Leevy might be further motivated to help out because Katniss’s mom helped her little brother is also an excellent example of how kindness breeds kindness

“Get some snow on that,” Haymitch orders over his shoulder. I scoop up a handful of snow and press it against my cheek, numbing a bit of the pain. - This moment reminded me of Peeta immediately reaching for some ice from that fruit tureen after Haymitch hit him on their way to the Games in THG (Ch. 4) - their different immediate reactions to getting hit in the face could simply be due to the fact that Katniss is a little too preoccupied worrying about Gale to think about her injury, of course, but I feel like you could also interpret them as examples for how much experience Katniss and Peeta have with being hit in the face, respectively...

Gale must have gone to Cray’s house, as he’s done a hundred times, knowing Cray pays well for a wild turkey. Instead he found the new Head Peacekeeper, a man they heard someone call Romulus Thread. No one knows what happened to Cray. He was buying white liquor in the Hob just this morning [...] but now he’s nowhere to be found. - As I’ve already mentioned regarding Darius, inhabiting some position of power does not guarantee you any safety in Panem (there is always someone more powerful who will treat their inferiors like garbage, if they feel like it)

By the time I showed up, he [Gale]’d been lashed at least forty times. He passed out around thirty. - Jesus 😨 poor Gale!

“What about Darius?” Peeta asks.“ After about twenty lashes, he stepped in, saying that was enough. Only he didn’t do it smart and official, like Purnia did. He grabbed Thread’s arm and Thread hit him in the head with the butt of the whip. Nothing good waiting for him,” says Bristel. - It’s so messed up how it is not enough to have someone who’d stand up and do something about a horrible situation - they have to do it the right way, or else they’re toast; there really shouldn’t have to be a smart way of doing the right thing

Snow begins, thick and wet, making visibility even more difficult. - (President) Snow is coming down hard on them, making it hard to see what’s up ahead

Ever so gently, she [Mrs. Everdeen] begins to clean the mutilated flesh on Gale’s back. I feel sick to the stomach, useless, the remaining snow dripping from my glove into a puddle on the floor. Peeta puts me in a chair and holds a cloth filled with fresh snow to my cheek. - Although she’s quite squeamish, Katniss stays as Gale gets treated (the force that holds the loved ones of the hurt/dying, just like when Peeta was being treated after their Games); meanwhile, Peeta is taking care of Katniss - there is so much care + love to be found in this moment

My mother has to save the strongest [painkillers] for the worst pain, but what is the worst pain? To me, it’s always the pain that is present. If I were in charge, those painkillers would be gone in a day because I have so little ability to watch suffering. - Honestly, same; I can’t stomach seeing other people suffer without feeling overwhelmed and feeling like crying... I don’t know how professionals do it

“Just give him the medicine!” I scream at her. [...] “Take her out,” says my mother. Haymitch and Peeta literally carry me from the room while I shout obscenities at her. They pin me down on a bed in one of the extra bedrooms until I stop fighting. - Oof. Poor Katniss! But yeah, it was the best call to remove her from the situation, Mrs. E. had to focus on what she was doing... Also, Haymitch and Peeta are the ones to get Katniss out of there and stay with her - these three take care of each other!

After a while, my mother comes in and treats my face. Then she holds my hand, stroking my arm, while Haymitch fills her in on what happened with Gale. “So it’s starting again?” she says. “Like before?” - Katniss’s mom has become a much more active and soothing presence in this book, I like it... Also, what does “again” mean? Does this imply there has been an attempted uprising in D12 that needed to be squashed before?

Cray would have been disliked, anyway, because of the uniform he wore, but it was his habit of luring starving young women into his bed for money that made him an object of loathing in the district. In really bad times, the hungriest would gather at his door at nightfall, vying for the chance to earn a few coins to feed their families by selling their bodies. Had I been older when my father died, I might have been among them. - Horrifying and absolutely disgusting 🤢 Those poor women! How desperate they must have been!

... when the doorbell rings, I shoot straight out of bed. [...] “They [the peacekeepers] can’t have him,” I say. “Might be you they’re after,” Haymitch reminds me. “Or you,” I say. “Not my house,” Haymitch points out. “But I’ll get the door.” “No, I’ll get it,” says my mother quietly. - Again, Mrs. Everdeen is taking the initiative! She was so watered down in the movies

[Madge] holds out a small, damp cardboard box to me. “Use these for your friend,” she says. I take off the lid of the box, revealing half a dozen vials of clear liquid. [...] “What is that stuff?” asks Peeta. “It’s from the Capitol. It’s called morphling,” my mother answers. “I didn’t even know Madge knew Gale,” says Peeta. “We used to sell her strawberries,” I say almost angrily. What am I angry about, though? Not that she has brought the medicine, surely. “She must have quite a taste for them,” says Haymitch. That’s what nettles me. It’s the implication that there’s something going on between Gale and Madge. And I don’t like it. “She’s my friend” is all I say. - I mean, Katniss could be mad because A) Gale had literally just told her he loved her a few hours ago and if there was something (reciprocated) going on between Gale and Madge, that would have been pretty shitty for both girls involved and also B) she is friends with both of them and it would be hurtful to learn that two of your closest friends had been seeing each other without telling you anything about it... also, she’s super upset over Gale getting so seriously hurt just after they’d had an argument, her feelings are all over the place

... I’m selfish. I’m a coward. I’m the kind of girl, who, when she might actually be of use, would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn’t follow to suffer and die. This is the girl Gale met in the woods today. No wonder I won the Games. No decent person ever does. You saved Peeta, I think weakly. But now I question even that. I knew good and well that my life back in District 12 would be unlivable if I let that boy die. - Yes, Katniss, you knew that your life back in D12 would have been unlivable if he died - but not because you feared that people would shun you; it was because you “couldn’t lose the boy with the bread” and because “if he dies, I’ll never go home, not really”... This is an excellent example of how distorted your memories can get when you are in a bad headspace at present

The berries. I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful poisonous fruit. If I held them out to save Peeta because I knew I would be shunned if I came back without him, then I am despicable. If I held them out because I loved him, I am still self-centered, although forgivable. But if I held them out to defy the Capitol, I am someone of worth. - Katniss, you don’t have to be planning to overthrow a corrupt and cruel government to be someone of worth! You’re someone of worth just by being yourself! - The trouble is, I don’t know exactly what was going on inside me at that moment. - Frankly, very rarely are our motivations clearly defined by a single factor - or my professor would not have been able to teach an entire semester-long course on motivation psychology😉)

Chapter 9

Gale’s dead to the world, but his fingers are locked around mine. I smell fresh bread and turn my stiff neck to find Peeta looking down at me with such a sad expression. I get the sense that he’s been watching us awhile. “Go on up to bed, Katniss. I’ll look after him now,” he says. - Peeta! Must have been hard for him to see Katniss like this (and the underlying strength of Katniss and Gale’s relationship, when his relationship with Katniss is still not all that solidified), and yet he’s being such a good bean about it 😭

I give a strangled cry and wake with a start, sweating and shivering at once. Cradling my damaged cheek in my hand, I remind myself that it was not Clove but Thread who gave me this wound. I wish that Peeta were here to hold me, until I remember I’m not supposed to wish that anymore. I have chosen Gale and the rebellion, and a future with Peeta is the Capitol’s design, not mine. - Katniss, gurl... Maybe your instinctive desire to receive comfort from Peeta is trying to tell you something??!? Also, Katniss is forcing this strange dichotomous association of Gale = rebellion and Peeta = Capitol, when in just a bit, she’s clearly connecting Peeta to the rebellion as well (aside from the fact that Peeta was basically the first person to suggest to her that maybe a rebellion was necessary... just saying)

Fighting the Capitol assures their swift retaliation. I must accept that at any moment I can be arrested. [...] There might be torture. Mutliation. A bullet through the skull in the town square [...] I imagine these things and I’m terrified, but let’s face it: They’ve been lurking in the back of my brain, anyway. [...] I’m already a target. - Oh geez! Despite admitting that she’s terrified of what the Capitol is capable fo doing to her, Katniss is still pretty composed naming the possible horrors in store for her, which is just a heartbreaking reminder of how many terrible things she has already had to endure.🙁

Now comes the harder part. I have to face the fact that my family and friends might share this fate. Prim. I need only to think of Prim and all my resolve disintegrates. It’s my job to protect her. [...] I can’t let the Capitol hurt Prim. - 😭😭😭 Katniss has reached a point where she can put her own need for survival/physical intactness aside, but the thought of something awful happening to Prim stops her short (it’s so strange to think that, in a twisted way, it wasn’t the Capitol who’d ended up inflicting the final harm upon Prim...)

And then it hit’s me. They already have. They have killed her father in those wretched mines. They have sat by as she almost starved to death. [...] She has been hurt far worse than I had at the age of twelve. And even that pales in comparison with Rue’s life. [...] Prim... Rue... aren’t they the very reason I have to try to fight? Because what has been done to them is so wrong, so beyond justification, so evil that there is no choice? Because no one has the right to treat them as they have been treated? Yes. This is the thing to remember when fear threatens to swallow me up. What I am about to do, whatever any of us are forced to endure, it is for them. - All these things are very true and it’s also very fitting that the main motivation for Katniss would be to ensure a better future for the children of Panem (and to avenge the evils done to the people close to her heart... while Katniss of course can see the abstract bigger picture/reason for the rebellion, she always operates best when it comes to specific people/circumstances she has a deep, personal connection with)... But also: all these things apply to you, too, Katniss! Despite your tendency to feel responsible for everything and everyone, you’re still a child that had to grow up way too fast and had to endure way too much!

We need someone to direct us and reassure us this is possible. And I don’t think I’m that person. I may have been a catalyst for rebellion, but a leader should be someone with conviction, and I’m barely a convert myself. Someone with unflinching courage, and I’m still working hard at finding mine. Someone with clear and persuasive words, and I’m so easily tongue-tied. Words. I think of words and I think of Peeta. - Katniss’s idea of a great leader for the rebellion is Peeta - interesting, isn’t it (she could have considered Gale, but no)? She makes a good point, though: it helps when a leader has plenty of charisma, and our boy has that in spades; he’s got a good set of morals, is not above joining in on the action/risking his own neck when the need arises and is very genuine and purposeful with his words and actions, which is inspiring... I think Katniss is severely underselling how courageous she is, though

He could move a crowd to action, I bet, if he chose to. Would find the things to say. But I’m sure the idea has never crossed his mind. - Why would you assume that, Katniss? Peeta’s literally the one to suggest to you that trying to placate the district might not be the right thing to do... Peeta’s not someone who’d stir up trouble just for the sake of stirring up trouble, sure; he’s much more deliberate about doing things the ‘right’ way, but he’s not generally opposed to challenging authorities (he’s literally the one to openly gift some of your winnings to another district!)

She knows what she’s doing, my mother. I feel a pang of remorse about yesterday, the awful things I yelled at her as Peeta and Haymitch dragged me from the kitchen. “I’m sorry. About screaming at you yesterday.” - It’s so sweet how Katniss feels sorry for yelling at her mom and apologizes to her; their relationship really has improved so much in this book - “I’ve heard worse,” she says. “You’ve seen how people are, when someone they love is in pain.” Someone they love. [...] Of course, I love Gale. But what kind of love does she mean? What do I mean when I say I love Gale? I don’t know. I did kiss him last night, in a moment when my emotions were running so high. But i’m sure he doesn’t remember it. Does he? I hope not. - Katniss is struggling to figure out in what way she loves Gale... She definitely doesn’t want him to remember their kiss because she knows it wouldn’t be fair to give him the hope that she might be able to return his romantic feelings when she is still in the dark about her own

... and I can’t really think about kissing when I’ve got a rebellion to incite. I give my head a little shake to clear it. “Where’s Peeta?” I say. - Lol, goes on to immediately mention the guy she’s been kissing these past few weeks (see, with Peeta you could actually have both: kissing and rebellion, Katniss - he’s the perfect man, isn’t he? 😉😋)

“He went home when he heard you stirring. Didn’t want to leave his house unattended during the storm,” says my mother. - Yeah, I don’t think Peeta left because of his house; I’m pretty sure he needed some time to himself after seeing Katniss and Gale this morning - he is the type of person who needs to be alone to work through his feelings when he’s feeling upset - “Did he get back all right?” [...] “Why don’t you give him a call and check?” she says. I go into the study, a room I’ve pretty much avoided since my meeting with President Snow, and dial Peeta’s number. After a few rings he answers. “Hey. I just wanted to make sure you got home,” I say. “Katniss. I live three houses away from you,” he says. “I know, but with the weather and all,” I say. “Well, I’m fine. Thank you for checking.” There’s a long pause. “How’s Gale?” - Aww, Katniss is worried about Peeta and gives him a call, although she hates being in the study 😊 Also, her calling him must have been at least of some reassurance to Peeta that she genuinely cares about him, in some way (though, he’s still clearly busy processing her relationship with Gale, since he’s asking about him as if he hadn’t seen that dude just a couple of minutes prior)

“Have you seen Haymitch today?” “I checked in on him. Dead drunk. But I built up his fire and left him some bread,” he says. “I wanted to talk to - to both of you.” I don’t dare add more, here on my phone, which is surely tapped. - Despite everything, Peeta still made sure to look after Haymitch! And I know, there is also the issue of their houses themselves potentially being bugged, but I couldn’t help imagining how they could easily avoid the whole phone-tapping thing simply by using a tin can telephone (they do live pretty close to each other, after all) 😂

“You don’t even have a phone,” I say. “Effie had that fixed,” he [Haymitch] says. “Do you know she asked me if I’d like to give you away? I told her the sooner the better.” “Haymitch.” I can hear the pleading creeping into my voice. “Katniss.” He mimics my tone. “It won’t work.” - Okay, but Haymitch mimicking Katniss’s tone reminds me so much of when Peeta mimicked her tone towards the end of their Games, when she was trying to persuade him to climb into a tree as a lookout while he was insistent she’d show him some plants to gather; these three, I swear! 😂 On a sad note, Haymitch is talking from experience here when he’s advising Katniss not to challenge the Capitol 🥺😢

Some streets away from the square, I see a blaze flare up. None of us has to say it. That can only be the Hob going up in smoke. I think of Greasy Sae, Ripper, all my friends who make their livings there. - Katniss considers the people from the Hob her friends - honestly, even if the Hawthornes, Everdeens, Peeta and Haymitch all had agreed to leave D12, I don’t think Katniss would have been able to go through with it - she cares too much about the people in D12 to have been able to leave them to their fate

“Well, I better go see how much rubbing alcohol the apothecary can spare.” He [Haymitch] trudges off across the square and I look at Peeta. “What’s he want that for?” Then I realize the answer. “We can’t let him drink it. He’ll kill himself, or at the very least go blind. I’ve got some white liquor put away at home.” “Me, too. Maybe that will hold him until Ripper finds a way to be back in business,” says Peeta. - Another instance of Katniss and Peeta being on the same wavelength, having taken precautions to help out Haymitch so he doesn’t have to go cold turkey again

We find Hazelle in her house, nursing a very sick Posy. I recognize the measles spots. “I couldn’t leave her,” she says. “I knew Gale’d be in the best possible hands.” - The second mention of someone having contracted the measles in D12 - Why the heck does the Capitol withhold measles vaccination from the people in the districts?! They’re inflicting unnecessary damage onto the very people they want to exploit... But I guess cruelty isn’t always about playing it smart and logical...

When we’re outside, I turn to Peeta. “You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob.” “I’ll go with you,” he says. “No. I’ve dragged you into enough trouble,” I tell him. “And avoiding a stroll by the Hob... that’s going to fix things for me?” He smiles and takes my hand. - They are a team, they stick together (and they are constantly holding hands, always physically linked to each other)😩💕 Also, Peeta pointing out the irrationality of Katniss’s train of thought to calm her down and stay with her reminds me of how he’s going to use logical reasoning to calm her down after the jabberjays in the Quarter Quell arena

We go back to the square. I buy some cakes from Peeta’s father while they exchange small talk about the weather. No one mentions the ugly tools of torture just yards from the front door. The last thing I notice as we leave the square is that I do not recognize even one of the Peacekeepers’ faces. - How weird is it that Peeta and his dad just talk about the weather?! Is this supposed to illustrate how in the Mellark family they just ignored the ugliness going on in their lives *cough cough* the abuse *cough cough* and just pretended that everything was fine, on a very superficial level? Also, it makes perfect sense that the Peacekeepers have been exchanged; the more time we spend with people, the more likely we are to like them - that won’t do if you want to have a ruthless authoritarian police force in the districts

As the days pass, things go from bad to worse. The mines stay shut for two weeks, and by that time half of District 12 is starving. The number of kids signing up for tesserae soars, but they often don’t receive their grain. Food shortages begin, and even those with money come away from stores empty-handed. [...] The eagerly awaited food promised for Parcel Day arrives spoiled and defiled by rodents. - This is just so awful and despicable 😞 Life in the districts was already horrible but now the government does not even honor the extortionary rules they themselves have set up! I can’t help but wonder if the lack of food could be traced back to rebellions in the food supplying districts and, to keep this from the inhabitants of the Capitol, the reduced amount of good food was (obviously) kept for the Capitolites, so that the bad food had to be sent to the districts, anyway... It just seems like such a breach of ‘honor’/etiquette on the Capitol’s part, I dunno... Or maybe Snow was just desperate to use any means necessary to stamp out any potential rebellions in the districts that he still had some control over...

Gale goes home with no more talk of rebellion between us. But I can’t help thinking that everything he sees will only strengthen his resolve to fight back. [...] Rory has signed up for tesserae, something Gale can’t even speak about - Poor, Gale! Poor Hawthornes :(

My fingers have all but decided to release the arrow when I see the object in the glove. It’s a small white circle of flat bread. More of a cracker, really. Gray and soggy around the edges. But an image is clearly stamped in the center of it. It’s my mockingjay. - It is so very telling that the true symbol of the rebellion combines something symbolic of Katniss (which also contains a nod to Rue) and something symbolic of Peeta (the bread/cracker!) The people in the districts have rightfully recognized the both of them as symbol of the rebellion; they have a truer vision of the matter than the more artifically/forcefully constructed symbol of rebellion that D13 /Coin will push - we will also see that when the people in D13 will view Peeta as a traitor, while the rebels Katniss will visit in D8 instead ask her about Peeta and assure her that they know he was speaking under duress

#thgagain #thg #katniss everdeen #hunger games #thg meta #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #gale hawthorne #my sketches and drawings #thg fanart #catching fire

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

´till death do us part

@911lonestarangstweek day 4 - m is for...mcd, mourning

if you saw my posts about the 'crying fic'... this is it

thanks to liz and @halsteadmarchs for the beta!

ao3 | 5.5k | major character death, hurt/comfort, mourning, non-linear narrative, car accidents, hopeful ending

This is a mistake.

It’s been a long time since Carlos last did this, but not long enough at the same time. His friends would disagree with him—they tell him he needs to get back in the game, and it’s well-meaning, but they don’t get it. They don’t know how hard these past few years have been for him.

They don’t know what it’s like to lose the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with; they don’t know what it’s like to go from being engaged one day to alone the next. In fact, there’s only one person Carlos knows who even has a hope of understanding, and he really doesn’t appreciate the irony that it’s the one person he’s guaranteed to never see again.

It’s not that he meant to turn himself into a recluse after it happened; he knows that’s not what he would want for him.

Thing is, Carlos isn't sure that he gets to have an opinion anymore, since he was the one who left. Carlos doesn’t blame him for what happened—that would be stupid—but sometimes, sometimes, he just gets so damn angry at him.

(he always feels guilty for it after, which is equally as stupid as the anger. there’s no one left for him to direct it at, after all)

Carlos sighs, shaking his head as he steps into the bar. He doesn’t want to be here—he wouldn’t be here, but Michelle had threatened to make a special trip back to Austin specifically to kick his ass if he didn’t at least give this a try.

This, being the blind date his friends had insisted he go on. Technically, he could leave and still not be lying when he tells Michelle he went—he is in the bar, after all—but Carlos has never liked the idea of standing someone up, no matter the circumstances.

So here he is. Alone at a bar, nursing a lukewarm beer, and wishing he were anywhere else.

Someone slides into the seat next to him, and Carlos barely gets a second to prepare himself before he’s met with a winning smile and sparkling green eyes.

God, why did they have to be green?

“Hey,” the guy says, still smiling. “Carlos, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Domenic.”

Carlos is still trying to catch his breath, his head thumping back against the wall of the bathroom stall they’ve ended up in, when lips brush his ear, hot breath sending electricity down his spine.

“I’m TK, by the way.” The whisper is rough, a smirk laced into it, like TK knows exactly what he’s done to him.

And Carlos is so far from fully-functioning that the only response he can come up with is a breathy, “I know.”

TK pulls back, his brows furrowing though there’s a wry quirk to his lips. “Didn’t take you for a Star Wars fan, but okay.”

Now it’s Carlos’s turn to frown as his addled brain struggles to put together TK’s thought process there. “What?”

“Never mind.”

Well. This took a turn. Carlos has no idea what’s going on, but there is something in the back of his mind that tells him he must have sounded like a creep, telling this guy he’s pretty much only just met that he already knows his name. He gestures lamely towards TK in explanation. “Your turn-out coat at the scene the other night. I thought it probably stood for something but then one of your team—Marwani, I think?—called you. So.”

Carlos shrugs, embarrassment quickly catching up with him, which seems absurd given what they just did. Then again, it’s been a long time since he’s done anything like this; he’s more of a wine-and-dine kind of guy than the type to make out with a near stranger in a less-than-sanitary bathroom.

But there’s something about TK Strand that has Carlos wanting to know everything about him.

And if everything starts here, well. He’s more than happy to take it.

Thankfully, TK seems to pick up on the sudden awkwardness in the stall. He takes a couple of steps back until he’s leaning against the opposite wall, which doesn’t really put that much space between them, but Carlos appreciates it all the same.

“So, do I get a name, or…?”

The question has Carlos flushing all over again, turning a bright red when he sees TK’s smile. He clears his throat and smiles, trying not to wince. “Carlos.”

“Carlos,” TK repeats, dragging the syllables out like he’s testing the sound of them on his tongue. Carlos shivers a little, his breath catching in his throat at the small smile that spreads across TK’s face.

Then a phone is being thrust in his hand, unlocked and opened on the Add contact page. “Put your number in,” TK says. “In case you ever, you know. Feel like doing this again.”

A thrill runs down Carlos’s spine at the thought that TK wants to do this again. Maybe he’s not the only one who feels this connection. Maybe…

Well. It’s too soon for that. But as he types in his number, Carlos can’t help but wonder where, exactly, this road might lead.

His house is quiet when he gets home. It’s a familiar kind of quiet, one that’s lain over the place like a blanket ever since that day three years ago. Carlos has gotten used to it over time, and he thinks that maybe it’s eased a little—but only a little.

Things haven’t changed much over the years. TK’s stuff still decorates the house, not as much as it used to, but Carlos hadn’t been able to bring himself to remove the stuffed bear that sits on the chair by their bed, or the plastic duck TK had insisted they have in the bathroom for ‘the vibes’, or the hand-sewn heart a little girl whose parents TK had saved had gifted him, which hangs proudly in their front window.

And the pictures; Carlos refuses to take the pictures down. The one sitting on his nightstand had been turned over for a long time after the accident, but now he can’t imagine going to bed each night without seeing it. It’s from their engagement party, a candid captured by Evie, a professional photographer in the making according to Tommy.

Carlos is inclined to agree—the photo, showing him and TK looking at each other, wide smiles on both their faces, is his favourite thing in the world.

His phone rings, making him jump. Carlos sighs heavily when he sees Michelle’s name flash up on FaceTime and he briefly considers declining, but there’s no way she’d be deterred so easily.

He takes a second to get himself together, then answers, plastering a smile on his face. “Hey chica.”

Michelle doesn’t waste a second in getting to the point. “So,” she says, leaning forward and grinning, “how’d it go?”

“It went.”

Her smile falters and she frowns, scrutinising him. “Did you even go?”

“Yes.” Carlos purses his lips, not wanting to get into it anymore, but Michelle is insistent and he’s too tired to make excuses right now. “His name is Domenic, he’s nice, I’m not seeing him again.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Carlos.” Michelle sighs, her voice going quiet. “It’s been three years.”

“That’s not a long time.”

“I know.”

“I still dream about him, ‘Chelle,” Carlos cuts in, sudden tears overwhelming him. “I still—I still think about what I could have done differently to save him, I still imagine the future we could have had. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop. I don’t know if I can stop.”

“When Iris disappeared—”

“It’s not the same,” he snaps, harsher than he means to. “You always had that hope, right? Everyone was telling you Iris was dead, but you always believed that she would come back. And she did, and I am so happy about that, I am, but guess what, Michelle? TK is dead. He’s dead. I’m never gonna see him again—in fact, the last time I did see him, it was when his body was lying in a morgue, and he was so cold and so still and so—so not TK that I could barely believe it was him.

“But it was, because he’s dead. It’s not the same.”

He’s properly crying by the time he finishes his speech, and Michelle has tears in her eyes too. Carlos feels a little guilty now, but he can’t bring himself to be fully sorry for what he said. Still, Michelle looks crushed, and Carlos can’t lose his best friend.

One more loss would kill him, he thinks.

“Michelle, listen—”

“It’s fine, Carlos,” she interrupts, swiping a hand under her eyes. “You… You’re right. It’s not the same. I’ll just. I’ll leave you alone now. I’m sorry the date didn’t work out.”

Then she’s gone, and Carlos is alone again, the weight of it settling uncomfortably on his shoulders.

Their first real date is painfully awkward, reminiscent of covert high school meet-ups with boys in the nearby diners, or like that one time Carlos tried using a dating app. That had been an experience he’d wanted to forget, but now he finds himself recalling it in horrific detail as he and TK sit on opposite sides of a table, a plate of limp fries slowly cooling between them.

“So—”

“I was thinking—”

They both speak at the same time, and an embarrassed flush rises on Carlos’s cheeks. He swallows past the lump in his throat and gestures to TK, barely able to look him in the eyes. “You should go first.”

TK laughs and shakes his head. “I was about to tell you the same thing. Since when have things been this awkward between us? We fucked on the floor of your front room about a week after meeting, surely we should be well past this stage by now.”

He has a point.

Carlos laughs too and finally works up the courage to meet TK’s gaze. “I mean, it’s not like we were doing much talking back then.”

“Things are a lot simpler without clothes,” TK agrees, a suggestive lilt to his tone and, somehow, it’s all that’s needed to break the tense silence they’d previously been suffering in. Carlos grabs a fry, grimacing at the grease that instantly coats his fingers, and points it at TK.

“Cool it, Strand,” he warns. “You aren’t going to find it that easy to seduce me anymore.”

TK grins, his eyes sparkling. “Oh, we’ll see about that, Officer.”

Carlos is surprised when he wakes up the next morning to a text from Domenic.

Hey, it reads. Sorry about last night. I know that you’re not into me or whatever and that’s cool, but I like you. Do you think we could maybe still be friends?

He sighs and drops his phone onto his bare chest, arm flopping onto the other side of the bed. It’s funny, he thinks idly; before TK, he’d tended to sleep closer to the middle and it had never bothered him. Now, it feels weird to break from the way things used to be—in Carlos’s head, the left side is still TK’s, and the right his.

He knows what Domenic’s text implies. ‘Let’s be friends and then we can see how it goes’. Carlos could tell him now that it’s not going anywhere and save them both the trouble, but he kind of...wants a friend.

It sounds pathetic, even to his own ears, but all his friends are either fellow cops, the 126, or Michelle, who’s in another state. And Domenic was nice. So, really, what’s the harm?

Twenty minutes later, they have plans to meet at a coffee shop.

Ten minutes after that, Carlos arrives.

Carlos startles as TK’s arms suddenly slip around his waist, his chin pressing into Carlos’s shoulder. He quickly relaxes into the hold, covering TK’s hands with his own, but TK isn’t fooled.

“Where did you go?” he murmurs, breath tickling Carlos’s neck.

“Nowhere,” Carlos answers. “I was just...thinking.”

“About what?”

“Well…” He hesitates, biting his lip, then spins to face TK, letting their still-joined hands swing in the minute space between them. “This is crazy, right? Not, like, bad crazy—well, a little bit bad crazy; our last place did burn down—but all of this. Getting a house together. Three bedrooms. All of it. It’s crazy.”

TK grins, the little frown that had emerged at Carlos’s first words quickly melting away. “Completely,” he agrees. He kisses Carlos briefly, then steps away, breaking their hands apart to tread a slow circuit around their new front room. Carlos watches him fondly, somehow falling even more in love with him.

“You know,” TK says suddenly, his eyes roving around the empty space, “I’ve never actually done this before.”

“What do you mean?”

He waves his hands, gesturing at the flaking paint on the walls and the lack of furniture. “Decorated a house. I had an apartment in New York but that came fully-furnished and I didn’t exactly have a ton of stuff to add. And then when I moved here with my dad, I didn’t care too much about how the house looked, and you know how my dad is about interior design. It’s a little...scary, thinking about doing it now, with you.”

Carlos’s eyes widen, his heart clenching at the words. “Do you… Do you not want to do this?” he asks, half-dreading the answer. He’d thought they were both on the same page here, but what if… What if…

“What?” TK frowns, crossing the room in three quick strides to meet Carlos. “Babe, no, of course I want to. It’s a good kind of scary, I promise.”

“You sure?” Carlos scans his boyfriend’s face, searching for any hint of doubt or anxiety. But there is none, and TK just smiles, kissing Carlos’s cheek.

“A thousand percent,” he says. “It’ll be fun.”

(‘Fun’ isn’t the word Carlos would give to what came next. ‘Frustrating’, possibly. Or ‘exhausting’. Maybe even ‘interminable’.)

(But, at the end of it all, they have a home. Their home. And Carlos can see their future taking shape before his very eyes.)

Domenic grins when he sees Carlos approaching him, and a part of Carlos regrets even agreeing to come. But he can hardly turn around now, so he forces a smile and slides into the chair next to him, extending a hand to shake. Domenic sends him a strange look at that, but obliges anyway, shaking Carlos’s hand with a surprising firmness.

“Hey,” he says, still smiling.

“Hey.” Carlos sighs, taking in Domenic’s bright eyes and warm, hopeful face, and decides, fuck it. “Look, before you say anything, I just want you to know that I’m not looking for anything right now. My friends set me up on that date with you—and it’s not that I don’t think you’re a good guy, I honestly do, but—”

“Carlos.” Domenic appears to be fighting off laughter, though he’s not entirely successful in it, a brief chuckle slipping past his lips. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I know it sounds hard to believe, but I really am okay with being friends. Not that I wouldn’t mind seeing where it goes, but…”

He trails off, seeing what must be obvious doubt on Carlos’s face. “Look, I’m kind of new in town, alright? I don’t really know many people around here, and I’m just...fuck, man. I’m lonely. So if you wanna be friends, then that’s incredible and more than enough for me. I swear.”

And Domenic is looking at him so earnestly that Carlos really has no choice but to believe him. He feels himself flushing a bright red, embarrassed at how self-centred and narcissistic he must have seemed, and a stammered apology is halfway out of his mouth when Domenic reaches over and lays a firm hand on his arm.

“It’s no big deal,” he says, patting once before drawing back. “I do want to ask, though, if you don’t mind? Why did you come on the date if you didn’t want to? Not many guys would.”

Carlos huffs a laugh. “My friends think I’m turning into a hermit. It’s an assessment that I...wouldn’t disagree with. Let’s just say you’re not the only one looking for a friend.”

Domenic’s eyebrows quirk up in interest. “Oh? Anything to do with your unwillingness to date? I mean, a guy like you—it’s hard to imagine that you don’t have men practically throwing themselves at you. Maybe even literally. How come you’re still single? Is there...someone else?”

Carlos’s whole body tenses at the question, his gaze dropping to his hands and his heart in his shoes. Tension lies thick in the air, and he feels the sudden urge to flee, but he’s rooted to his chair, stuck under Domenic’s scrutiny.

“Shit,” Domenic says, voice hushed. “Carlos, I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… Fuck, forget I said anythin—”

“I was engaged.”

Carlos hadn’t meant to say it. He doesn’t know why he did. It’s just… He hasn’t really talked about TK properly with anyone in the three years since; his friends were all TK’s friends too, and they all knew him—knew them.

This is the first time he’s actually spending time with someone who didn’t know, and it’s not freeing exactly, but it’s the first time he feels free to speak about TK the way he wants to, without anyone else’s memories looming over it.

“I’m not anymore, obviously,” he laughs wryly, finally managing to look back up at Domenic, finding shock on his face. “It was… It ended.”

Domenic’s mouth opens and closes several times before he’s able to pull himself together enough to speak. “Who called it off?” he asks—which was not what Carlos was expecting. “Because if it was him, man. He really missed out there.”

Carlos hesitates a moment, then answers, “It was him. But it wasn’t on purpose.” He breathes out shakily, swallowing hard. “He died a month before the wedding.”

Carlos smirks as he hears a groan at his back, glancing over his shoulder to find TK pretending to bang his head on the table. “Having fun, babe?”

Another groan. “Let’s just elope. Let’s get married in some random courthouse by some random Texas official. That way we wouldn’t have to figure out stuff like a seating plan or—or what kind of cake knife to use. I mean, babe.” TK sends a pleading look in Carlos’s direction, and Carlos can’t help but laugh, cruel though it feels when TK’s wounded expression just gets worse.

“I’m pretty sure my mother and your dad would kill us if we did that,” he points out, causing TK’s mouth to twist.

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“No, you don’t.” Grinning, Carlos turns back to his chopping, except, when he reaches out for the next ingredient, he only meets empty space. “Mierda. TK, babe, can you run to the store? I forgot the chilis.”

“Can’t you just leave them out?”

There’s a hopeful note to TK’s tone, but Carlos stands firm—his cooking is the one thing he’s able to resist TK for. “You’d think you’d be used to spices by now,” he comments. “And the answer is no; go on. You’ll barely even taste them.”

TK mutters his disagreement, but he gets up and leaves anyway. Carlos watches him go, shaking his head fondly before returning to dinner. Technically, he could leave the chilis out, but he’s been brought up to consider even the mere suggestion as sacrilege, and he’s not planning on letting TK persuade him otherwise any time soon.

Twenty minutes later, he’ll regret that decision more than anything else in the world.

“Carlos, I’m so sorry. You don’t have to—”

“I want to. As long as you’re okay with it; I don’t want to just unload all over you.”

“It’s okay, I promise. What are friends for?”

Carlos frowns, checking the clock. TK should have been back by now; the store is only a five minute drive from their place, and surely he would have texted if he was going to be delayed. He’s about to call him himself when his phone starts ringing, TK’s name flashing up on the screen.

He sighs in relief, answering the call. “Did you get lost or something?”

Silence.

“TK?”

Nothing again, and Carlos’s panic starts to skyrocket. “TK!”

And, this time, he gets an answer.

“C-Carlos.”

Carlos’s heart drops into his stomach at the rasp of TK’s voice. He sounds like he can barely breathe—in fact, if Carlos strains to listen, he can hear stilted, ragged breaths coming through the phone’s speakers. TK is hurt, probably seriously, and, fuck, it was Carlos who sent him out in the first place, this is his fault, he—

“Carlos, please.”

He breaks out of his spiral and clutches his phone tight to his ear, racing around the house to get his shoes on and grab his keys. “TK, where are you? I’ll find you, I promise I will, and you’re gonna be just fine, okay?”

TK doesn’t speak for a few seconds, before, “No.”

Carlos screeches to a halt. “What?”

“I don’t—I can’t tell you where I am. I don’t know. And there’s—there’s no time. No— Someone found me, they called 9-1-1, but they won’t—there’s no time.”

“TK, don’t you dare give up, okay, don’t you dare talk like that. You just need to focus on my voice and stay awake for a little while longer and then they’ll get you to a hospital where they’ll fix you up. You’ll be good as new right in time for the wedding.”

“The wedding. Carlos, I—”

“And if this is your way of getting out of making all the decisions, then it’s a little bit over the top, you know? I mean, point proven and all that, but you could have just told me.” He’s getting hysterical now, he can feel it, standing in the middle of his front room trying to keep his fiancé alive and talking when he’s god-knows-where in god-knows-what condition.

But, as always, TK is there to centre him again. “Carlos, stop, please.”

Carlos doesn’t know if it’s the way TK’s voice is getting quieter and quieter, his energy obviously flagging, or if it’s his pleading tone, but he’s suddenly struck completely still. He can’t move a muscle, every sense tuned into whatever is happening on the other end of the phone.

“I don’t—I don’t want to spend the time we have left lying to each other,” TK eventually says, his words riding on broken breaths now. “I don’t want to leave you, but I think… No, I know that I have to now. I’m s-so sorry. I wish… I wish we…” A gasp, and a horrific cough that sounds like it’s tearing TK apart. “I love you.”

Carlos doesn’t get a chance to reply before there’s a loud thud, and it doesn’t take him long to figure out what caused it.

TK dropped the phone.

TK passed out.

It’s salt in the wound when, seconds later, Carlos hears the wail of sirens approaching the scene.

There are tears dripping down his face as he tells Domenic of the sheer, gut-wrenching panic and fear of those next few minutes.

How he’d been unable to put the phone down, instead listening as the screech of machinery and the raised voices of firefighters and paramedics drifted through the speakers.

How the noises had dimmed when they extracted TK, and how Carlos had strained to listen as the paramedics began to work on him.

And how, when he’d heard those final words, his world had come crashing down.

“I’m calling it. McRae, radio it in to the ME’s office.”

This isn’t happening.

Carlos cannot be sitting in his parents’ backyard, at his fiancé’s wake, in the same place and wearing the same suit that he was supposed to be getting married in a month from now.

He—

Fuck.

Carlos presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and curls in on himself, barely suppressing a moan of agony at the pain in his chest. He’s distantly aware of everyone’s gazes on him, but he can’t stop this tidal wave of emotion anymore than he can turn back time and change the fact that TK is dead and that Carlos failed him.

TK died all alone, and Carlos didn’t get the chance to say goodbye or tell him that he loved him. He couldn’t even bring himself to speak at the funeral—the one thing, the last thing he could do for the love of his life.

Instead, when it was his turn to speak, he’d been frozen in his chair, eyes locked on the coffin—(and, fuck, TK was in there, that was TK, fuckfuckfuck)—and Judd had had to take over.

Carlos hadn’t heard a word he'd said, though he’s sure it was beautiful, and everything that TK deserved.

Everything that Carlos couldn’t give him.

He failed him, he failed, he—

“No,” a hushed voice says, warm arms pulling him into a tight hug, and Carlos must have been talking aloud without realising because the voice keeps reassuring him. “You didn’t fail, sweetheart, you didn’t, I promise. You were there for him at the end and that’s all that matters; that he wasn’t alone when it happened. I know it hurts but it’s okay, it’s all going to be okay.”

Carlos tenses, wanting to scream at whoever’s holding him because how could anything possibly be okay? But when he pulls out of their grip, he sees that it’s Gwyn, her eyes red and cheeks tear-stained, and all Carlos can do is fall apart in his not-quite-mother-in-law’s arms.

She keeps whispering that it’s okay, and Carlos knows that it’s as much for her own benefit as for his.

“Hey sweetheart,” Carlos whispers, getting out of his car and leaning against the closed door. He always comes here when he wants to remember TK; it is where they said goodbye to him after all. And it’s the place where they had so many important moments—it’s where they became official, and where they finally spoke openly and completely with each other for the first time, and where they got engaged.

It’s their place, ridiculous as it might sound.

“Remember that night?” he asks, even now feeling a little self-conscious talking to the air. “I made you a picnic and we came out here to eat it and you somehow managed to get chocolate on your nose from the chocolate-covered strawberries.” Carlos chuckles, then sighs wistfully. “You were so beautiful. I had this whole plan to propose to you, but one look at your face and that damn bit of chocolate and I forgot the entire thing.

“I just blurted it out, right there and then. ‘Marry me, Tyler Kennedy’, and you said yes, and it was perfect.”

He blinks furiously, tears beginning to blur his vision. “I thought… But it was too perfect, I guess. Perfect things never last, and since I was never going to leave you, the universe forced you to leave me.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. It’s nothing you don’t already know, and I’m not sure if I even believe that you can hear me. I never used to, back when we were together, but things change when suddenly the one who’s gone is someone you love. I’d give anything, Ty, anything to talk to you again, so I’m here.

“You know… Just in case.”

His hands tremble and he swallows reflexively against the pain and grief crawling up his throat. He reaches inside the car through the window and grabs the bouquet of flowers he brought with him off the passenger seat.

It’s the same one he always brings whenever he comes out here—red camellias, hydrangeas, blue salvias, and forget-me-nots—all flowers that have meaning to them and their relationship. Hydrangeas for understanding; it had been the first flower TK had given him, his way of saying thanks for sticking around even after their disastrous beginnings.

The camellia, Carlos had gifted TK one anniversary. It means ‘you’re a flame in my heart’, which TK always was, always, and Carlos had found it a little funny too, given TK’s background. TK had loved it, and had made sure to tell Carlos in as many ways as he could think of that he felt the same.

The salvias were something they both did, often and at random, sometimes with no particular reason. Just whenever they wanted each other to know they were thinking of them—though, that was something they knew anyway.

Carlos had added the forget-me-nots himself after… After it had happened. It’s a reassurance, both to him and to TK, that he’s not forgetting; that he never will.

That he can’t, even now, three years down the line.

On shaky legs, he walks over to the tree a little distance away, laying the bouquet between the roots almost reverently. Carlos stares down at them long after he’s straightened back up, leaning against the tree, and he allows the memories and the pain to overwhelm him for a moment.

“Can you believe it’s been three years?” he asks the empty air, shaking his head. “I swear, I still miss you like it was yesterday; it doesn’t seem real that I haven’t seen you or kissed you or heard your voice in three whole years.

“I’m going to see your dad later. He’s… He’s doing okay, all things considered. He misses you—we all do—but I think he tries to hide it, like he has to be the strong one for everyone else. Don’t worry though, Ty, we’re looking after him. Making sure he doesn’t, you know. Do anything stupid.

“Your mom helps out a lot too, her and Enzo and Isaac. God, TK you’d be so proud of Isaac now—he’s started school, making loads of friends, and he’s just… He’s such a good kid. I wish you could see him; he was so young when you— You’d be amazed at how big he’s getting. And, hey, we’re making sure that he knows who his big brother was, so...so don’t worry about that either.”

Carlos hesitates before continuing; it feels weird to talk about Domenic here. He doesn’t need to, he knows—technically, there’s nothing even going on between them, though Carlos couldn’t deny how good it had felt when Domenic had hugged him when they parted ways after coffee. But there’s been a weird lump of guilt sitting in his stomach since that first date at the bar, and Carlos figures that TK deserves to know about it.

Even if he’s three years dead and probably can’t hear any of this.

“I met someone, you know,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. “It’s not like that, we’re just friends, but I think… I think maybe it could be like that? Maybe? I don’t know, Ty. I thought I’d never be able to love anyone in that way ever again, but Domenic is so kind and sweet and he makes me wonder if there’s a chance.

“I’m terrified. It’s—It’s stupid and selfish, but I’m so scared of getting hurt again, of having to go through what I went through with you again. Not that I blame you for the accident, it’s just… I can’t do it again. I can’t.

“God, even considering this feels like I’m betraying you. I do hate you a little for that; you still own so much of my heart and I’m never getting it back, whereas all I have of you are your hoodies and your mugs and that goddamn stuffed bear. Why did you have to go and ruin me like that, huh? Why, TK?”

He’s almost shouting now, but the question fades unanswered into the air, and Carlos’s anger vanishes with it. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t… I don’t hate you. I love you so much, and I always will, but I think maybe it’s time for me to let some of that go. I can’t carry on like this for much longer; you understand that, right?”

And maybe he’s imagining it, or maybe it’s just a coincidence, but the breeze picks up a little then, gently ruffling Carlos’s curls, and it feels like… It feels like peace.

He closes his eyes, and for a moment, it’s like he can feel TK there, like he never left at all.

I know, it feels like, his voice ringing loud and clear in Carlos’s head. I love you.

“I love you, too,” Carlos whispers, opening his eyes. TK isn’t there, of course, but, somehow, he doesn’t feel so empty anymore.

Then, with one final glance at the flowers, Carlos turns and walks away, his heart feeling lighter than it has in three years.

#911lsangstweek #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #michelle blake #lone star #911ls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #userbones #userjillian #tuserpaige #tuserjamie #reyeslonestartag

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

through and through.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: this is our ajf minimal loss fic! as (usually) usual, its more fun if you read the rest of the series, but this one stands on its own just fine. lemme know what you think!!

words: 5.8k warnings: canon-typical violence, death, and injury, language, aaron Flexing on These Hoes™

summary: the septarian sect ranch situation is hard enough with the memories of waco. the knowledge you’re in danger, along with reid and prentiss, has aaron on edge.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

“Everyone just stay calm!”

Nancy turns, assuring you with a naive and placating smile, “I’m state police. I’m an officer of the state.”

Stupid. Stupid!

“Well, there’s nothing we can do right now.” Emily, ever the voice of reason, assures from behind you.

“We just have to calm down.” Your useless attempt at de-escalation is overrun by gunfire.

“I can talk to him.” Lunde turns to go, and you reach for the back of her shirt, trying to pull her back.

You manage to get past the goons in the front, while they stop Emily. There’s only one chance. “No, Nancy! Wait.”

As you run after her out of the tunnel to the main level, you give her more and more space. The noise and smoke is a little overwhelming and you almost lose her in your confusion and distraction. Cyrus shouts to cease fire, but it’s in vain. The gunfire echoes around you, and you can’t help but think of Aaron.

What if I don’t come home?

She rushes to the front of the building, by the window, and addresses Benjamin. “Mr. Cyrus, let me talk to them.”

You catch up to here in the chapel, reaching for her arm to pull her back to safety when something stops you. You can’t feel it at first, but when you watch Lunde drop to the ground, you know.

Fuck.

Hitting the deck right away, you put pressure on the gunshot wound that’s torn through your left shoulder. You breathe deeply, fighting the panic you know will only hurt you more. The shock still numbs the pain and when you look, it seems through and through. The back of your blazer is ripped through, and there’s a hole in the wall behind you.

That’s a comfort.

The last thing you needed was a .223 round bouncing around in your chest. You’re grateful enough it didn’t tear your arm off entirely.

You crawl around the corner and press yourself against the wall. With a groan, you remove your blazer and tie it around your shoulder as best you can. You chance a glance at Nancy, but she's already gone - unseeing eyes turned toward the ceiling, her hand limp on the carpet, blood blossoming across the chest of her teal blouse.

Damn it.

Cyrus’s men shout around you, and it feels more and more like an active warzone with every passing second

“Man down, man down! We can’t stay here!”

“Hold your fire!”

You breathe as deeply as you can, tucking your arm to your belly and closing your eyes. The gunfire slowly ceases, the movement around you becoming only a little less frantic.

Aaron will know. He’ll find us. We’ll be okay.

Your shoulder twinges. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, and you only hope you go into shock soon for the sake of your pain tolerance.

Aaron, please. Please hurry.

+++

“Morgan.” JJ bursts through the glass doors and unmutes the television in the corner.

“What’s up?”

She increases the volume, and they hear, “... a routine question and answers meeting by Colorado Child Services has turned into a violent and deadly standoff between Colorado authorities and a fringe religious group known as the Septarian Sect.”

Morgan stands, ready to leap into action. “JJ...That’s not the ranch were -”

“They’re still inside.”

Derek’s voice rockets across the office as he calls for Hotch, who immediately ends his call and leaves his office, leaning heavily on the banister. Derek tells him you’re still in there, with Reid and Prentiss.

“...at least three child services members are still trapped inside the compound.”

No.

Aaron swallows heavily,

Keep your head, Hotcher. It’ll be okay.

Phones start ringing all at once. Everyone looks to Aaron, and he’s already back in his office, grabbing his things. He flies back out, blazer slung over his shoulder and go bag in-hand. “Wheels up. Now.”

+++

You watch as they haul Lunde’s body out of the way. Someone helps you to your feet. You’re feeling pretty dizzy.

“Can I have some water? Please?” You know for certain you’re in shock now, and keeping your blood pressure and volume high enough is the only way you’ll make it out alright.

“We’ll get you what you need after we take you back to your people.”

There’s always been a little part of you that believes in the nugget of humanity in people. Today, it might just save your life.

Emily rushes to you as you step down into the basement. Reid hovers, nervous and watchful. Emily’s voice is steady. “We need water and medical attention.”

“First aid kit is in the corner.” Cyrus points and Reid jets off to grab it while Cyrus continues giving direction. Someone hands her three bottles of water, and she sets them by your side.

Emily’s hand flutters over your forehead, as if checking you for fever. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Through and through. Just gotta stop the bleeding.” You know you’re slurring your words a little bit, but it’s not as bad as it could be.

“I prayed this day would never come, but it has.” Cyrus shoulders a rifle. “God will see us through.”

Fuck.

Cyrus’s eyes linger on you and Emily a little longer than is comfortable, but that’s the least of your worries. Spencer returns with the kit, pulling out packing gauze and wrapping.

Emily helps you with your blazer and shirt, leaving your shoulder exposed to the mountain air. Spencer packs your wound while Emily starts wrapping the gauze around your ribs and shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay.”

You put a hand on her arm. “I know. Thanks.”

+++

Hotch comes to a screaming stop in the SUV, his suit jacket long gone in the Colorado heat. He immediately makes assignments. “Dave, I’m making you lead negotiator.”

“Me?” Dave asks.

“Why go to the students when I have the teacher?” Aaron’s eyes are probing and hold all the respect in the world for his dear friend.

“Because the teacher is emotionally involved!” Dave cants his head toward the compound, and Aaron’s eyes follow, as if searching for you. Dave’s eyes stay steady on Aaron - watching him look for you. “And so is the Agent in Charge.”

With a defeated sigh, Aaron cops to it. “I know I am. This is a unique situation.” At Dave’s squint, he continues. “We have three agents who could affect the outcome on the inside.” His voice is low and riddled with tension. The concern radiates off of him in waves, and he can only hope it passes as concern for the whole team.

In truth, it’s almost all for you. He can’t explain it, but he knows something isn’t right.

“I can’t be objective. I know them too well.” Dave does everything he can to pull Aaron from direct control, but he knows it's a lost cause. More than one part of him knows why.

Aaron’s jaw tightens, and he’s more intense than before when he replies, “This outcome depends as much on our ability to predict the moves of our team as Cyrus. That’s why you’re the best man for the job.”

“Assuming they’re still in a position to make moves.”

The thought is near-unbearable. He softens, taking another approach.

“I know how bad this is. That’s why I want you doing the talking.”

“Alright.”

Aaron claps Dave on the shoulder, and it’s a silent thanks. Before they can move, there’s more commotion around the back of the FBI staging area.

Goddamn it. What now?

“...I’m sorry sir, I’m under direct orders from the FBI.”

Dave and Aaron share a glance, and Aaron leads the way to the argument.

“I’m the Attorney General of this state.”

He can’t help it. A smirk crosses Aaron’s face.

Lawyers. Alright. I can do lawyers.

There’s also a part of him relieved that he can offload some of this stress into some kind of altercation. An opportunity to flex his Juris Doctorate never hurts.

“I demand to know why I wasn’t told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Septarian Ranch -”

Alright. That’s it.

Aaron turns, an insulting kind of disbelief on his face. Steadily and without haste, he approaches. “The only thing that you’re in the position to demand is a lawyer.” A spike of anger strikes his chest.

He knew about this raid. He knew and he failed to tell us.

And now his people are in trouble.

You are in trouble.

“Who the hell are you?” The overblown AG turns on Aaron.

Big mistake.

“I’m Aaron Hotchner. Unit Chief. I’m the guy who’s gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.”

And it’s not an empty threat, dipshit.

“You can’t talk to me like that.” Was that a smug smile on his face?

Aaron steps up to him, nearly nose to nose. The adrenaline and anger and fear floods through him and leaks through his words. “Get off my crime scene.”

Hard brown eyes stare down weak blue ones. Aaron wins.

+++

“Then leave us alone.” Cyrus’s voice belies no tension as he paces. Your eyes follow him, much more alert now that much of the bleeding has stopped and you have some water in you. Emily strapped ice to your shoulder about twenty minutes ago. You might end up with a little nerve damage, but it's better than bleeding to death.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Benjamin.” Dave takes a breath, delivering the information steadily. “One of the police bled out on the way to the hospital. So let’s just stop this before things get worse.”

Aaron’s brows, already low, get even lower. Derek, hovering behind Rossi, takes note. The tension in his unit chief is different and he doesn’t know what it is.

“Please,” Dave continues, “just put down your guns and come out.”

A buzzing takes over Aaron’s senses for a moment, and he shakes his head to rid himself of it. He reaches down for a bottle of water, downing half of it before he puts it back down.

“Now, the four child service workers…” That catches Aaron’s attention, and he snaps to. “One of them is dead. It wasn’t us.”

You bite your lip, watching Benjamin pace near the door. That phrasing will do nothing but panic your team, and you know it. Tipping your head against the wall behind you, you throw out anything you can.

I’m alright, Aaron. We’re okay.

Aaron’s head drops and he wets his lips. He closes his eyes, doing his best to keep himself from running straight for the compound.

No. Please. I’ll get what I get for wishing it’s someone else, but please let it be someone else. Anyone else.

What if it was Prentiss?

What if it was Reid?

Guilt floods him and he pushes the thoughts aside.

Dave keeps his voice clear and even. The depth of Aaron’s gratitude and respect is ineffable. There’s nobody better for the job. “I need a name to inform the family.”

“Her name was Nancy Lunde.”

Aaron nearly collapses in relief, pushing away the guilt as it rises in his sternum.

“One service worker was shot in the same altercation, but we have provided medical care and the wound is non-lethal.”

Say my name. Say my name, please.

He doesn’t, and you grind your teeth together.

Dave nods, glancing at Aaron. “Okay. Now, please, Benjamin, send out your wounded, including the injured service worker. I promise they’ll be taken care of.”

“With enough supplies, we can tend to our own.”

“Okay, I’ll need a few hours to put them together. I’ll bring them up myself at first light.”

You can’t hear what Dave says on the other end of the line, but Cyrus’s lack of reaction can only be a good thing.

“You should get some sleep.” Emily, sitting next to you, checks over your wound again. Spencer’s on your other side with his eyes closed, but you know he’s not sleeping either.

Closing your eyes, you reply, “I can’t.” Nevertheless, you reach for her hand. She slips her fingers into your palm. “Mm. Your hands are warm.”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t get shot today.” She’d usually jostle you with a jab like that, but she knows better - obviously.

+++

When first light comes, you open your eyes. You’re not sure, but it was likely you got at least a couple of hours of sleep. There’s a lot you don’t remember from the night before, but you know they shuffled you up to the chapel at some point.

Probably a good thing.

The ice has melted and your arm is all wet. You check your dressings and find them working well enough. They’ll still have to be changed, but you can’t deny the effectiveness of Emily’s instruction and handiwork.

A car door closes outside. Emily stirs, immediately reaching for a nearby bottle of water. She hands it to you after she takes a couple of sips. Shuffling around Spencer, you take it with your good arm and drink as much as you can.

Wait. Didn’t Spencer say you could do a transfusion with coconut water?

Do I even need a transfusion?

Yes.

Oh. Thanks.

A knock on the door startles you out of your half-delirious thoughts. You’re grateful for the distraction. The feeling increases tenfold when Dave walks into the chapel.

Aaron’s nearby. It’ll be okay. He probably put Dave on this himself.

“The children, and our guests.” Cyrus gestures to you, proving to Dave that everyone is in fact, relatively, alright.

You turn your head (ouch) and meet Dave’s eyes. Looking back down, you’re satisfied he knows you’re alive.

“I was hoping you’d let me take the children,” Dave says.

Benjamin shakes his head. “Nah. They’re our protection.”

We are, too, dumbass.

The two men chat for a moment. Your heart feels like it grows three sizes as you listen to Dave do what he does best.

It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.

You have to believe it.

After Dave leaves, they make you stand off to the side while they pour wine for everyone present. Emily starts whispering, and you know she’s profiling the adults. It’s probably smart, but all your energy is focused on remaining upright and ignoring the throbbing ache in your shoulder.

+++

Dave jogs back up to the staging area and assures them you’re all okay. He relays your condition to Aaron, “...but it looks alright. Well-dressed and not bleeding through.”

Aaron nods. So that’s what the feeling was. You’re alright, but it’s still wrong. He shoves down something else that scares him a little.

That’s a problem for another time.

Is it a problem, though?

Yes.

“He’s too calm. It’s - It’s like he was waiting for this to happen and now that it has, he feels vindicated.”

Aaron rounds the table and comes to rest at Dave’s side. They’re in full strategy mode. The opportunity to stretch their abilities is welcome, but they both wish it was under better circumstances with lower stakes.

His hands flutter uselessly at his sides. Restless energy still rockets around his limbs and he hates it. He hates feeling so deeply out of control.

“I have a signal!”

Derek, Dave, and Aaron flock to their headphones, tuning in just in time to hear Cyrus inform the congregation they have all ingested the poison together.

+++

Emily’s eyes shoot around the room, and you know what she’s thinking.

The profile didn’t indicate mass suicide…

This doesn’t fit

He continues to deliver his sermon and you tune out, focused on the faces of Cyrus’s followers. Right now, they’re more revealing than he’ll ever be.

+++

“This doesn’t fit.”

Dave voices Aaron’s thoughts exactly. It quickly devolves into discussion of a breach, and Aaron brings a hand to his forehead. He’s ready to go.

“If we go into there, people are going to die.”

Aaron’s hand flies out to the side. “People are already dying.”

Rossi’s eyebrows raise, and Aaron tries to keep his hackles down.

+++

“What do we do?” Emily whispers.

Spencer shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“We have to do something,” you hiss. “These people just took poison.”

“Cyrus just told them he did and I think he’s bluffing.”

Emily’s brow crumples. “Why do you think that?”

Spencer’s following observations make sense - the notes, the watching armed bystanders. It’s strategically sound for Cyrus to weed out the weak in his congregation.

After a moment, Cyrus admits it was a test of faith. “...Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother’s keeper.”

+++

Frustrated, Aaron runs his hands through his hair. “Tell ‘em to stand down.”

The tension is getting to him, as is the lack of sleep. Dave made him lay down overnight, but he never once closed his eyes. He was worried about Prentiss. He was worried about Reid.

He was worried about you.

I almost got all of them killed.

Step it up, Hotchner. You chose Dave for a reason.

Listen to him.

+++

“...well into its second day, the standoff at the Septarian Sept ranch has now been taken over by the FBI. There was much speculation in regard to hostages…”

Aaron hovers behind JJ, completely tuned in to the news. This could be disastrous.

“...But anonymous sources inside the state attorney general’s office have told us there is an undercover FBI agent currently being held inside the Septarian Sect ranch.”

This is disastrous.

Everyone reacts, but Aaron walks away. He can’t face this right now. There’s too much to do, too much to think about.

Don’t do anything stupid.

He only hopes you can hear him, somehow.

Please don’t be a hero.

+++

Cyrus enters, all bluster and confidence.

Shit. Something happened.

“Which one of you is it?”

You all just stare at him. He pulls a gun from his waistband and you jump a little. The movement twinges your shoulder, and you let out a small wince.

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?”

Spencer is the first to speak. “Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?”

Yikes, Spence. Question for a question.

Wait. Maybe it will work.

Something in you tells you to keep your mouth shut, and you do. The last thing you want is to screw up whatever Spencer’s cooking up. His brain moves a lot faster than yours.

Don’t do anything stupid.

“God will forgive me for what I must do.”

You can feel your eyes widen as Cyrus raises the gun to Spencer’s head. You’re completely frozen, as if something’s physically holding you in place.

Don’t be a hero.

You’ve been shot, idiot. Your shock response is all over the place.

No, it’s different.

Yeah. Sure.

You roll your eyes at yourself, but quickly cover it by crinkling your face up in what you hope looks like confusion.

“I - I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cyrus looks at you and you shake your head, doing your best to look like a deer in headlights. “One of you does,” he says. “Who is it?”

Before you can open your mouth, Emily jumps in without hesitation. “Me. It’s me.”

Spencer looks at her like she’s grown a second head. Cyrus lowers the gun and you take a breath. You don’t have much time to recover, though, as Cyrus snatches Emily by the hair and drags her out of the room.

Your breath catches and you leap to your feet with Spencer. The dizziness doesn’t phase you, but your concern for Emily certainly does.

Don’t cry.

Don’t be a hero.

There’s a gun to your head and you do your best to relax. You raise your good arm into the air, as if you could be a threat with a half-inch hole through your shoulder.

Shit.

+++

Between your gunshot wound and now listening to Emily getting the shit beat out of her, this is a bad day for Aaron.

Someone else hauls you by your bad arm into another room, and you can’t help but yelp. They need to listen to Emily now, so you do your best to stifle the urge to cry out. You’ll answer all the questions as quietly as possible.

They need to hear Emily.

Aaron, please have ears in there.

+++

Aaron very nearly throws the headphones off. He’d know your voice anywhere, even raised in pain. The overlapping cacophony of anguish breaks his chest wide open.

“We gotta go in.” He stands and removes his headphones, unable to listen any longer.

Rossi shakes his head, still tuned in. “We’d be risking the lives of everyone in there.”

+++

You can hear Emily through the wall, and you bite your tongue until it bleeds. The man (who still has a hold on your arm), throws you into a chair. You let out a small wail, but cover your mouth with your good hand before speaking. “Please, I -”

“Did you know?”

“No. No.” They need to hear Emily.

“Tribulation breeds resilience,” the man says, dropping close to you. His thumb digs into your wound. It’s too much and you internally apologize to Aaron as you let out a sob. “God rewards the resilient. He rewards those who cleanse themselves of evil.”

“Please -”

He shakes you and man does it hurt. The pain shoots from your shoulder to your fingertips and zings all the way down your back. You’re hot and cold at the same time and don’t have the energy to fight it anymore. You break down, and sound falls from your mouth as the man continues to preach at you, all the while tweaking and twisting and squeezing your shoulder.

+++

“He’s got them both.” Aaron stands, his palms pressed flat to the table. Hearing you in that kind of pain ignites something white-hot in his chest. He hurts for Emily, too, but at least she’s still able to talk.

“I can take it.” Emily’s voice rings clear through the headphones, and they all freeze.

“Wait - Wait. Listen to what she’s saying.” Dave gestures to Aaron, who reluctantly tunes back in.

“I can take it.”

Derek scoffs. “She’s antagonizing him.”

“She’s not talking to him.” Rossi remains firm.

Aaron’s hands get lost in his hair, restless and frustrated and useless. He takes a breath and ignores the sting behind his eyes. “She’s talking to us. She’s telling us not to come in.”

He knows Emily. She’s just as smart as she is strong and wouldn’t antagonize Benjamin on her own.

There’s a particularly vicious commotion and Emily falls to the ground with a sharp groan and a cough.

That’s it for Derek. He throws his headphones off and starts to pace. Aaron’s the only one who leaves the headphones on. Even then, his eyes mist up and his jaw is so tight he’s almost afraid his teeth will shatter.

+++

You slump back against the chair. “I’m sorry she lied to you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” The words choke out of you with a gasp. Your shoulder screams and the pain is truly breathtaking.

Emily will forgive you for throwing her under the bus - you know you’d forgive her if the situation was reversed.

Cyrus throws the door open. “The agent’s going upstairs. The other two are clean.” He looks at you with a certain degree of contempt and you keep your eyes on the floor.

Don’t do anything stupid.

Don't be a hero.

Why those two phrases keep echoing around in your head, you have no idea. Nevertheless, they’re both good reminders.

You’re returned to Spencer and slide into a chair. You tip your head back against the wall and listen to Cyrus question him.

Why didn’t Spencer get beat up?

Not that you wanted Spencer to get beat up, of course, but it all seemed a little inequitable. You’d already been shot - isn’t that enough excitement for one day?

“On the next call, you should test them.”

Oh, how I love you, Spencer Reid.

He continues. “Test the negotiator. Make him prove he isn’t a liar.”

This would only work if they had ears in the building. If Spencer has faith, so do you. Tears prick at your eyes and you think of Aaron.

Please tell me he didn’t hear me. Please tell me they only had ears on Emily.

You’re still the baby of the team, the newest, the youngest. You know that’s why Aaron watches out for you so carefully. He’s just protecting you.

At least, that’s what you choose to believe. The other option is ridiculous, absurd, and nothing but wishful thinking.

Don’t be a child.

Spencer has Cyrus right where he wants him. You suppress a smile and hope it passes as a grimace.

“What about you?” Cyrus turns on you and you’re proud when you don’t flinch. “What do you think?”

You shrug with your one good shoulder. “It’s a good idea, and the offer to exchange a child for information is a show of good faith. I’m sure they’ll appreciate that.”

+++

Dave and Aaron share a glance.

“They’ve got him.”

A swell of pride crashes through Aaron’s chest. It’s just because you’re his youngest agent - the most time, the most potential. He has to keep you safe, he reasons. It’s the right thing to do.

That’s not the only reason.

He shakes his head, but the thought has its claws dug in deep.

+++

As Cyrus reads the list of names, Emily appears at your side again.

She looks awful - half her face painted with red and purple bruises, with more blossoming under her collar. You almost laugh aloud when she asks, “Are you okay?”

“Emily, you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

She huffs. “I didn’t get shot. Just a little beat up. We’re good. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Spencer’s mouth presses into a thin line. You both know she’s lying. “I’m so sorry.” Moments later, he relays the information for both your ears and your team outside.

Cyrus looks at you, and you almost think he’s going to let you go, but his gaze slides past you. Spencer approaches him and they speak in hushed tones.

When they’re through, Cyrus gestures to Emily and a pair of goons. “Take her back.”

Emily looks only the slightest bit alarm as she’s taken back upstairs by the arm. If Spencer’s in, and Emily’s out, where does that leave you?

You elect yourself Reid’s shadow, silent and always right off his shoulder. Cyrus doesn’t seem to mind too much and if he does, he doesn’t show it.

+++

“Drugging the food isn’t an option because of the children. We’ll have to go in.” The whiteboard marker twirls between Aaron’s fingers as he thinks.

Indeed. Rossi, from his place in the corner, says, “The best time to hit them is when they’re least mentally prepared.”

“3am. Biorhythms are at their low point, then.”

“We need a diversion,” Derek notes. “Something that plays into his expectations.”

Humvees, then, are clearly on the docket. As are bright lights and all the flash and glamour of federal law enforcement.

Hotch and Morgan begin to volley, both men processing and paying close attention.

“The plan depends on our people separating the diehards from the followers -”

Derek interrupts, finishing Aaron’s thought. “And delaying Cyrus’s diehards from reacting to our assault.”

“No, that’s not my main concern. They know what they need to do.”

“So what is your concern?”

“Letting them know when we’re coming. The whole thing hinges on them being ready for us at 3am.” A thought comes to him then, and he reaches for a sharpie and a lid. Maybe your weird understanding of each other will come in handy, or Spencer will be looking for those signs he alluded to with Cyrus.

Either way, it’s the only option.

+++

Downstairs with Spencer, something catches your eye.

Wait a minute.

You’d know that blocky, left-hand slanted lettering anywhere. Aaron.

Spencer sees it, too, and you share a glance. You offer him a little smile, and he nods, understanding you completely. This might just work.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Cyrus startles you a little, and you step closer to Spencer. Your wound dressing has yet to be changed today, and the heat radiating off your shoulder has made you a little jumpy.

Just my luck to survive all of this and die of an entirely treatable infection like a sickly Victorian child.

“You don’t have to be a part of this. You can go.” He addresses the both of you, and bite your tongue again. You have to trust Spencer’s plan, and you know he has one.

As you suspected, Spencer says, “I would prefer to stay. Somebody needs to tell your story.”

“I’m glad it will be you.” Cyrus turns his gaze to you, and you nod.

“I’ll stay.”

He softens a little, and calls someone over. In what feels like seconds, you’re sitting down while gentle hands clean and re-dress your wound. It hurts like all hell, but you’d rather do this than throw the whole damn arm out.

As you sit, Cyrus’s plan becomes clear. Explosives seem to pass from hand to hand without hesitation.

Where’s Emily?

+++

Aaron has no idea how long he’s been staring at the compound. He’s wound tighter than a spring, his body all straight lines of stress as Rossi approaches him.

Finally, Aaron says, “I know I can’t go in there.” There’s too much at stake, too much on the line, too many emotions. He knows, somewhere in the back of his mind in a place he won’t acknowledge, that he would prioritize you.

So, he can’t go in there.

Dave nods. “I’m going.”

“If something happens to Prentiss or Reid or…” he trails off, unable to speak the thought aloud. “I - I don’t know.”

Dave looks over at him, understanding all the things he can and can’t say. “You’re not alone.”

+++

You can feel a shift in the air as 3am creeps nearer and nearer. Outside, inside, it’s all alive with activity and anxiety. You hug your arm to your chest, nursing a bottle of water. With fresh dressings, you feel a little cleaner, a little safer, but you know it’s an illusion.

“Something’s wrong.” The goon’s observation brings Cyrus to the front window, and even over his shoulder you can see the humvees advancing on the compound.

Nice work, team.

“They lied to us,” he whispers something to his shadow. While Cyrus grabs his firearm, the shadow opens the door. The gunfire startles you, and you look to Spencer.

Tell me it’s gonna be okay.

His eyes are steady on yours and he nods almost imperceptibly. We’re going to be fine.

Some of the lights go out and your eyes dance around the room.

Aaron, this better be part of your plan.

“It came from inside the building.”

“Check the fuses.”

The rapid discussions fly around you, but you keep your eyes on Spencer as much as you can. He’s spitting verses at the men around Cyrus, stalling. Luckily, Spencer could talk about nothing and everything forever.

You knew that would come in handy one day, even if it drives you up the wall outside of life-or-death hostage situations.

“...I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.” Cyrus smacks Spencer with the butt of his rifle, and Spencer doubles over. You can’t help him - not with one arm and certainly not without a weapon of your own.

“You cannot convert my brothers.” Cyrus hits him again, and Spencer drops to the floor, and you crouch beside him, the very picture of fear. Oddly, you’re less afraid right now than you were before. “No one had to follow. God could have stopped me.”

There’s a breach, and you cover Spencer with your body as bullets fly past you from all sides. Cyrus goes down, and so does the detonator.

“He just did.”

You almost snort as you rise, but you rapidly remember time is of the essence.

“You alright, kid?” You’re not sure if Derek’s talking to you or Spencer, but you nod anyway.

Spencer, too, responds in kind. “Fine. Where’s Emily?”

“We got her out of here.”

The breath you’ve been holding since she disappeared again leaves you, but a heavy throb of your shoulder replaces it.

The girl you’re here for in the first place, Jessica, rounds the corner and you have a sinking feeling you know exactly what she’s going to do. Nevertheless, Derek calls out to her. “Sweetheart, come with me. We need to get you out of here. Come on. Let’s go, right now.”

You snag Spencer’s sweater in your hand and follow him to the door. You watch as Jessica takes in Cyrus’s body, clocks the detonator, and then reaches for it. Spencer leaves your grasp.

You’re hot on his heels and it’s only then you have another fleeting thought of not making it back home.

“Run!”

Derek’s behind you. You only hope it’s enough time.

The explosion rocks you to your core and for a moment you’re not sure whether you’re alive or dead. When the ringing in your ears cools off, Derek has his arm around you. The smoke covers everything. Your eyes burn, coughs rattling through your chest and wracking your shoulder.

You hear your last name, as well as Derek’s and Spencer’s. It’s Emily.

She’s scared.

Derek helps you straighten, and guides you down the steps. “We’re alright!”

You still can’t talk for your coughing, but you hear Emily’s relieved, “Oh, God.”

She meets you in the middle while Aaron waits at the bottom of the stairs. He’s watching you. Emily touches the side of your face and you lean into it. You’re a little on the outside as she gathers Spencer into her arms.

There’s something going on by Aaron, but you can’t quite hear it yet. Whatever it is, it’s over before Aaron’s hand is extended toward you. When your fingers meet his palm, he brings you close, careful of your shoulder. His hand meets the back of your head, and you press your face into his neck, blocking out as much as you can.

You don’t exchange words. There’s no need.

He tucks you under his arm and you pass Jessica’s mother, watching the burning compound with bewildered eyes.

+++

You sleep on the plane, your head resting against the window. Just as you suspected, you developed a small infection on the last day in the compound, but it’s nothing two weeks’ worth of antibiotics can’t fix.

Hotch sits beside you, pretending to read something or another. His eyes keep tracking the same line over and over again. The moments where he thought he’d lost all three of you to the explosion plays back in his mind again and again and again.

You can hear him thinking and you crack an eyelid. “Hotch.”

He immediately turns his head, ready to get whatever you need. Frankly, you look miserable. “Yeah?”

“We’re fine.”

An eyebrow raises.

“Fine. I’m shot and Emily’s beat to hell, but we’re alive.” You reach for his sleeve, running your fingers over the fabric. “I think you saved my ass, by the way.”

You pull your hand back. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Something in me kept telling me ‘Don’t do anything stupid!’ ‘Don’t be a hero!’ and I’m certain it can be attributed to your undue influence on me.”

The corners of his lips turn up just the tiniest amount. “Maybe so.” He slips his blazer off and drapes it over you. “Sleep. You need it.” He sees you about to interrupt him and cuts you off. “If I see you in the office at all before next week…” The empty threat speaks for itself.

“Trust me. After my near-death experience, the last thing I want to be looking at is you.”

Liar.

“The feeling is mutual. You look terrible.” He smiles for real this time and you return it. A whisper passes through his head, and he pretends he doesn’t notice.

Liar.

+++

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rosiehunterwolf · 3 years

Text

Twinkle, Twinkle, Are You There?

Prompts: Stars and Trauma

Word Count: 5,498

Characters: Lloyd (with reflection on Kai)

Timeline: During episode 82 (Dread on Arrival), with flashbacks to earlier seasons

Trigger Warnings: Claustrophobia, Kidnapping, PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Starvation, Dehydration

Summary: All he wanted to do was help his team. It was his mistakes that got them into this mess, after all. It would make sense that he was the one to get them out of it. But if there’s one thing Lloyd’s learned over the course of his life, it’s that things don’t have a habit of going his way.

That, and the fact that stars don’t make very good company.

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The night was crisp and clear, with a blackness that enveloped the city in a blanket of stillness, the kind that only befell in the late summer. The city was quiet except for the faint sound of wailing sirens in the distance.

And, much closer, the shuffling of footsteps and clanking of chains.

“What do you want with me?” Lloyd hissed, yanking tightly at the restraints.

“Quiet, Garmadon,” Harumi hissed, and the chains suddenly tightened, causing him to nearly lose his footing as she stalked towards him. “For too long have I remained silent while you blathered on. No longer am I the Quiet One. Now it is my turn to speak.”

“Oh, so now I can’t even talk? I’m not your slave, Harumi.”

She grinned. “No, you certainly are not. But your time will come, don’t you worry.”

Her words sent a trickle of dread down his spine, and he gritted his teeth. “You won’t get away with this. My friends will stop you, and-”

Harumi laughed, long and cold. “Your friends? They are too late. There is no way those pesky little ninja will be able to stop us. Even if they do manage to get here before your father is freed, do you really think that they’ll try to stop us when you’re in danger?”

Lloyd’s throat ran dry. “What are you going to do to me?”

Harumi smirked. “What do you think? After everything you’ve done to me?” She laughed at the look on his face. “Don’t worry. I need you alive. For now. Dead bait isn’t half as effective as it is alive, after all.”

Silence stretched on as the Sons of Garmadon hauled him up a staircase. Killow shoved him from behind, and he stumbled, being sharply tugged back up by the Sons of Garmadon holding his chains. Lloyd grimaced, looking away.

After a few moments, Harumi began to sing softly. “The spider’s in the house, sleep, sleep. The spider bit the mouse-

Lloyd gritted his teeth. He had used to think that song was cute, but now it just put him on edge. Feeling anger surge up inside him, he felt the sudden urge to yell at her.

“So this is your true face without the mask. No wonder you covered it.”

“What did I say about speaking?” Harumi hissed, whipping around. “You think you’re so cocky, but you haven’t won. Far from it. How does it feel to lose for once, Lloyd?”

“Where are you taking me?”

Harumi tut-tutted, shaking her head. “So many questions. Normally, I would not appease you. But I feel like this will be of great interest to you.” She glanced at him, waiting for a reaction, but he remained silent. She sighed. “This is where the palace used to be. Trapped here all my life, I discovered something truly extraordinary. The destruction of the palace was something that had to be done, but… we took care to protect this place. The Temple of Resurrection.”

Lloyd swallowed. The Temple of… oh gosh, she really is going to do it. She’s really going to bring him back. She’s crazy, so crazy-

Harumi turned away from him as they reached a set of double doors. Pushing them open, she revealed a courtyard stretching out in front of them. Sons of Garmadon milled around, stopping and stepping to the side to clear a path as they caught sight of Harumi. A pedestal rose up in the middle of the space, and off to the side was a contraption with two cages. One was empty, the other-

“Mom!”

“Lloyd! What happened? Are you okay?”

One of the Sons of Garmadon poked a spear at her cage, silencing her.

“Let her go, Harumi. This is between us, and only us.”

Harumi laughed. “What has been between us? Your incompetence as the city’s protector by causing the release of the Great Devourer? Or something else? Because only one of those things are true, Lloyd. And honestly, that was entirely your fault. I’m just picking up the pieces.”

Leaning forward and letting her long, white hair swish close to his face, she whispered. “There is nothing between us, Lloyd. And there never has been.”

He jerked away, hating himself as an ache spread through his chest. He was losing nothing by letting go of her. He was better off without her. If only his stupid heart would just understand that.

“Aww, honey,” Harumi cooed, a mock look of pity on her face. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it? Nothing is more powerful than a blow to the heart. Especially on you.”

To his horror, Lloyd felt tears welling up in his eyes, and blinked furiously to disperse them. “Please, Harumi. This is my fault. Do whatever you want to me. But my mom is innocent. Let her go.”

“You’re right, this is all your fault. Which is precisely why I need to keep her around. I know you, Lloyd. You’d be far too happy to take the punishment yourself. One of your little ninja friends would’ve been ideal… you would’ve done anything I asked you then… but she’ll have to do for now. Knowing you, she should be enough.”

Turning towards the Sons of Garmadon restraining him, she flicked a hand at them. “Put him in the cage. I want the utmost security on him.”

His captors nodded, and his chains were yanked sharply, and he was roughly thrown into the cage, his breath knocked out of him for a moment.

His head spinning, he glanced up, seeing the long, curved metal bars stretching above him. A cold trickle of déjà vu slipped down his spine as the reality of his situation fully hit him.

No. No, no, no- Lloyd stumbled to his feet, lurching towards the cage door, just as it was slammed in his face.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, kid. Behave yourself.”

He felt his heart rate pick up as the familiar panic began to set in. He couldn’t- this couldn’t be happening again. Not a damn cage again.

He- he was the green ninja. He was supposed to- he was supposed to look after his team, to lead them, but he- he always got caught and thrown in a stupid cage.

He threw himself against the bars, gripping them tightly as he leaned his face towards the sky, drinking in the fresh air. It was so small in here, he wanted to get out, to go home-

But that was always how it ended up, wasn’t it? Lloyd was always the one getting caught, always the one the others had to go out of their way to save.

He was a burden. An incompetent, helpless burden. This whole thing was his fault, just like it always was, because he was too weak to stop anyone from taking advantage of him. Him and his dumb, dumb heart.

And he had the nerve to call himself a ninja.

Except this time, it had been so, so, much worse. This time was different from the time with the Serpentine, or even Morro. This time, so many more people’s lives were going to be endangered because of him. Because his stupid, soft heart had decided to trust the girl that was now going to destroy the city.

Again, he had ruined everything.

My friends will fix my mistakes. She won’t win.

Harumi’s words echoed back to him. “Even if they do manage to get here before your father is freed, do you really think that they’ll try to stop us when you’re in danger?”

She was right. He hated that she was right. He was glad his friends loved him, but sometimes it would just be so much easier if they saved the city instead of him.

Opening his eyes, he gazed at the sky above. The night was moonless, the only light coming from the spattering of stars across the sky.

Those damn stars were always there. Why wouldn’t they just leave him alone?

---

The Lost City of Ouroboros, 2012

Lloyd eyed the lock at the front of his cage warily. Ugh, if only I had a pin.

Not that it mattered, anyway. The night was too dark for him to be able to see properly enough to pick the lock. And even if he did manage to get out, he wasn’t exactly unguarded. The city was crawling with Serpentine. And he didn’t stand a chance of sneaking- or fighting- his way past all of them, thanks to the ninja’s refusal to let him train with them.

His frustration dissipated quickly, and he glanced down at his hands, wringing the edge of his black hoodie. No, that wasn’t fair. The ninja had risked their lives trying to save him today. It hadn’t been that long ago that they had met- he was just some bratty kid they had fished off the street, one that had messed everything up for them. They didn’t owe him anything. The fact that they had done as much as they had for him, well-

It was a bit overwhelming, to be honest. No one had ever cared for Lloyd like that before.

The Darkley’s students had always hated him. He was lucky to go a week without being beat up or having bugs left in his bed. Brad had sort of been a friend, he guessed- but in the end, even he had abandoned him.

His mom had left him high and dry at Darkley’s- he didn’t even remember her. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to. And she obviously hadn’t cared enough to come back, or even to write, so… he didn’t think that was an issue he would have to worry about anytime soon.

And his father-

Lloyd really wanted to have hope for his father. He really did. But it seemed like whatever he did, it wasn’t enough. Why hadn’t his dad visited him or even sent him letters, like the other boys’ parents?

Releasing the Serpentine had been Lloyd’s last hope that his father would notice him. But, like everything else, it hadn’t worked. And now he realized that he had hurt people by doing it, too. Good, innocent people, like the ninja.

They were the closest thing he had to a family, now.

But that was just Lloyd being dumb. He had made life very difficult for all of them. Why would any of them ever return those feelings back? He was just making a fool of himself by even entertaining such a notion. Forgiveness was never that easy, something he knew firsthand.

But then they had come back for him, anyway, and Lloyd was left wondering if they really did care. They had fought so hard for him. Maybe he was a part of something, finally. He was afraid to hope.

And then they had nearly died, and he had taken it all back.

He wanted them to save him, to bring him back to the Bounty, to care for him, to love him like no one had before. But he couldn’t ask them to risk their own selves for him. He was an outsider to their family. He hadn’t been there over the past months, the past memories. He was just the bratty kid. Maybe they cared about him now, but they wouldn’t give up that safety and security just for him. He didn’t want them to.

He had tried to remind himself that this was what he wanted as he had watched them flee on the Samurai X mech, watched them take the Golden Weapons to safety. Good. That was much more important than him. They could come back for him any time. Everything was going to be okay.

But then, why did his chest feel so hollow as the mech flew into the distance, smaller and smaller until it was gone? Why hadn’t that feeling gone away even now, hours later?

Lloyd shrugged his shoulders, as if the motion could shake the feeling off. The bars of the cage dug into his back- although not as bad as when he had been shoved into lockers back at Darkley’s, it wasn’t a pleasant reminder- and he shifted, trying to get comfortable, but it was no use. Instead, he tried to focus his gaze outside the cage. Ourorboros was much less active at this time of night, but there were still too many snakes lurking around for his liking. Lloyd hated the sound of their scales slithering across the ground. He had thought, after Uncle Wu had taken him aboard the Bounty, and read him that book, that he would never have to see another snake again. What had he been thinking, going after the Serpentine like he did? Sure, he wanted to prove himself, but he was no ninja. He didn’t even want to be here.

He hadn’t really felt like it had been a choice, though. He had just wanted to fix his mistakes. But he had dug himself into a hole too deep for someone as little as him to climb out of. And going after the Serpentine had only made it deeper.

If only he was cool and awesome, like the ninja. They would know what to do.

He turned his gaze up to the sky, if only to look at something other than Serpentine. The moon was nowhere to be seen, but the stars shone down brightly on him, abundant out here in the desert. Lloyd stared up at them, breathless.

He had grown up in Darkley’s, which had been on the edge of Ninjago City, and after he had been kicked out, in those long weeks before he had come up with the brilliant- or now, he was realizing, insanely stupid- plan to release the Serpentine, he had only ventured farther into the city, hoping to find food and a place to sleep.

The point was, Lloyd had always been a city kid. Before he had gotten captured, he had never been out in the blistering sun in the Sea of Sand, where Jay had grown up, or in the depths of Birchwood Forest, former home of Zane, or even to the small little village of Ignacia where Kai and Nya had once called home. In the thick of the city, he was used to light pollution brightening the skies, the nights dull with only a scattering of stars visible.

But now, out here, in the middle of the desert, the night sky couldn’t be more different. The darkness above him was littered with so many bright, white specks that Lloyd couldn’t believe that so many stars even existed. Darkley’s had taught them typical school curriculum alongside their villainy lessons- in which Lloyd had been told that there were billions of stars in the galaxy, but he hadn’t really believed it before now.

Now, he was sure there must be trillions.

He remembered the ninja’s long nights on watch, and wondered how many stars were visible from his uncle’s monastery, and if the ninja liked to watch them, too. He did remember one night- when he was being a particular pain, Kai had dragged him outside with him in hopes that he would calm down. Lloyd hadn’t been paying much attention to the stars that night- too distracted to look up.

He would pay more attention next time. He bet that Kai would watch the stars with him. The red ninja had sat so patiently with him then, mostly quiet but making conversation every once and a while before they had settled back into the easy bouts of silence. He had even made Kai laugh once. That happy, rich sound had sent warmth spreading through Lloyd’s chest. He hadn’t really known what to make of it then, but now, sitting here, cold and alone except for Serpentine, Lloyd longed for that warmth again.

He wished Kai was here now.

Well, not here-here, he didn’t want him to be captured too, obviously, but he wanted to be with him, somewhere safe, far from any Serpentine, where they could watch the stars in peace.

Maybe they could’ve been, right now, if Lloyd hadn’t been such an idiot.

As much as he hated the fear that clamped at his chest anytime a Serpentine rattled too near, he hated the feeling of hopelessness and uselessness even more. Why did he have to mess up everything all the time? If it weren’t for him, the ninja could be having those peaceful evenings still, out on the rooftop.

Next time, he would be smarter. Next time, he would be a better brother. A better asset to the team.

But at this point, he wasn’t even sure if next time would be an option. He had read plenty of editions of Starfarer in his lifetime, and people like Lloyd didn’t usually get second chances.

But that hurt too much to think about. Instead, he turned to gaze at the stars.

That was the good thing about the stars, he supposed. No matter where he went, what he did, or how badly he messed up, they never left him.

---

The Fire Temple, 2012

Lloyd pulled his knees closer to his chest as hot, bubbling lava gurgled below him. For once, he was glad to have the bars around him- although he wasn’t sure how much protection they would be if the lava seeped up towards him. The Serpentine seemed to think that the volcano was perfectly safe, barely dazed by the oozing molten around them, but Lloyd wasn’t so sure.

At the very least, the heat was sweltering down here, where his cage sat only a few feet away from where the rock dropped way into the vat of lava. Serpentine perched on many of the other rocks jutting out of the lava, chipping away at them as they searched for the third Fangblade. Lloyd bit his lip, hoping they didn’t take the whole volcano down with them.

He kicked absently at a bit of rock that had strayed into the cage, watching as it fell down, into the lava with a gloop.

This sucked. He had been in this stupid cage for about a week now, and he was so tired and scared. Somehow, he hadn’t really expected this. In his mind’s eye, he had imagined getting gobbled up by the Serpentine after a day or two, or maybe even getting rescued. He hadn’t thought it would go on this long.

He tried to be like the ninja- to put on a brave face, stay strong, come up with a plan- but nothing came to him. He wasn’t a ninja. He just wanted his dad.

Nibbling on his lip, he looked up at the chunk of sky that he could see through the opening in the volcano. It was a much more limited view than the one he had seen back in Ouroboros, but the stars were still there, as bright and unyielding as ever.

These ones were especially fascinating, the lava casting a gentle glow on the stars, staining them a faint, burnt orange color. They almost seemed to pulse gently with the flickering lava, and Lloyd let himself forget about everything for a moment, just watching them.

It could’ve almost been peaceful, if it weren’t for his situation.

He leaned his head against the bars of the cage, despite the uncomfortableness. A slight quiver reverberated through the floor, reminding him of the unstableness of the ground beneath him.

Trying to think about something else, he turned his thoughts to the ninja instead. He wondered what they were doing now. Realistically, he knew they were probably trying to find a way to stop the Serpentine- maybe even coming to save him. He knew the idea should’ve brought him comfort, but for some reason, it just made his stomach ache. He didn’t want his friends to get hurt because of him.

Instead, he imagined them hanging out at the monastery. Jay flopped over the couch with a Starfarer comic (one he had probably stolen from Lloyd), Zane and Nya sprawled out on the floor as they played Stratego, glaring at each other icily from time to time, and Kai and Cole duking it out in Fist-to-Face 2, Kai balancing on his knees and practically smashing his controller as he got more agitated, while Cole’s demeanor was much more relaxed, although there was a fierce concentration in his eyes.

Lloyd let a smile play on his lips. The image felt so vivid, so real, and he clutched onto it, longing desperately for some connection- any connection- to the others.

Tears blurred his vision. It wasn’t enough, just imagining them. He needed them. He was going crazy in here, and the slimy Serpentine were terrible company.

Looking back up at the sky, he let his gaze fall on the North Star. Lloyd didn’t know much about constellations or different stars, but he knew that one. It wasn’t too hard to spot, especially on this dark night- bigger and brighter than all the rest.

Lloyd remembered what Brad had told him back at school- that supposedly you could see this star from anywhere. It was a guide, a wayfinder, a path back to home.

Biting his lip, he glanced around to see if anyone was watching him. No one was- of course they weren’t, why would they be- so he turned his gaze on the North Star and whispered under his breath.

“Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight.”

Closing his eyes, he thought the wish in his head as hard as he could- saying it out loud would make it not come true, of course- and hoped against all odds, that this time, for once, his wish would actually be granted.

Opening his eyes again, he fixated on the star again.

Maybe, wherever the ninja were, they were watching that star, too.

---

Stiix, 2015

If there was ever a time in his life that Lloyd had wished he had brought a jacket with him, it was now.

Not that he had really had an opportunity to get a jacket in the first place- it would’ve had to been when he had first gone down to investigate that stupid museum robbery, weeks ago at this point- but his point still stood. He was freezing.

A cold breeze rattled eerily through the bars of his cage, swaying it slightly, and Lloyd pulled the dirty, worn mess that was his gi tighter around him. Alright, he got that Morro wanted him to suffer in every way possible, but did he really have to hang his cage all the way up here?

Another gust rocked the cage a little harder, and Lloyd grabbed hold of the bars, whiteknuckling as he tried not to look at the churning waters of the lake not too far to his right. It was all too easy to imagine the cage rolling into the dark, choppy waves if a strong enough gust were to knock him loose.

The hands that gripped the cage bars were pale and trembling, so that Lloyd barely recognized them as his own. He cursed himself- even this brief, fleeting moment of relief from Morro’s possession really wasn’t much of a relief at all because of how much his body was screaming in agony. He was so weak, and even if, by some miracle, an opportunity was presented for him to escape, he would never be able to take it. He wasn’t even sure if he could move.

As if to accentuate his point, Lloyd’s stomach suddenly growled loudly, agonizing cramps ripping through it as he curled in on himself, moaning. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had eaten. He bit his lip, trying to distract himself from the unbearable hunger pangs. Even Cole’s nasty chili sounded heavenly about now, and he felt himself start to cry as he thought of the black ninja, wishing his friend was here now, with or without food.

But the only person there was Ronin. Lloyd craned his neck to peer through the hole in the roof of the man’s pawn shop. Ronin was scowling, his hands securely tied up behind his back as he glared at the floor. He was looking a little better than he had a half hour ago, his skin less of an ashy shade, and some of the color seeping back into his cheeks, but he still was slumped over weakly, trembling slightly.

Even though Lloyd hardly knew him, he felt his heart go out to the man. He was one of the few people in Ninjago who knew how it felt, to be possessed by a ghost- and honestly, Lloyd was impressed that Ronin had recovered this much in such a short amount of time. The first time Lloyd had been released from Morro’s grip, it… well, he preferred not to relive the memories, but it had not been pretty.

Suddenly, he caught sight of a flicker of translucent green glide past Ronin, and Lloyd lurched back from the edge, pressing his back against the opposite side of the cage, gasping. He was still lurking around. Lloyd didn’t even want to look at him, he didn’t want to think about how, all too soon, the ghost would be slipping back inside him, filling his mind, taking over his bones-

Lloyd cut off the flow of thoughts violently, breathing heavily as he tried to contain it. He- he couldn’t think about that now. There would be plenty of time for trauma later, but now his poor body couldn’t handle anymore.

Trying to get his pounding heart to slow, Lloyd swallowed- and immediately regretted it as his throat seared. Ow, he groaned silently, not daring to speak. His throat felt impossibly dry- Morro had given him some water a little while ago, after he was safely out of Lloyd’s body, but the stale, warm liquid had done little to alleviate the raging heat in his throat. Just the thought of water made his head throb, and Lloyd clutched tightly onto the bars, trying not to pass out.

He had barely gotten over his dizzy spell when his stomach suddenly cramped again, loud gurgles and whines bubbling from it as he braced himself.

The pain came much worse than any time before, and it was only the promise of pain from his throat that kept him from crying out. The cramping continued to flare for much longer than usual, and Lloyd began breathing heavier, tears pricking his eyes as he prayed for relief, which came a few moments later, slowly and reluctantly.

Dammit, I haven’t had it this bad since my days wandering the streets, back when I was nine. How long has it been since I last ate?

He hoped Morro would feed him soon. The ghost would need to put some fuel in Lloyd’s body if he wanted to continue to use it, and Lloyd wasn’t sure how much longer he could run without food. If he didn’t get anything soon, he would probably have to ask Morro to give him something, which was always humiliating because the ghost always found some way to make him beg for what he wanted.

It wasn’t like he could ask for anything in this state, anyway. Why did it feel like every part of his body was actively trying to kill him?

Needing something- anything- to distract him from his pain, he found himself looking up for the first time since he had been there.

The night skies of Stiix were breathtaking, stars littering the air like glitter. Even with everything going on, Lloyd felt himself stop for a minute, taking in the beauty of it all.

It would’ve been a perfect night to go stargazing, back home.

Lloyd’s fascination with the stars hadn’t faded since his capture in the desert all those years ago, and he had kept his promise to himself to keep watching them. The others would accompany him once in a while, although he sensed that it was mostly just so that he wouldn’t be alone.

Kai’s feelings, however, had always been more genuine. He and his friend had spent hours studying the different constellations, charting the stars, and going out on the prime stargazing nights. The outings weren’t just about the stars, either. They would chat for hours- about silly things, serious things, or nothing at all. Out there, alone in the darkness, it had just been the two of them and the stars. There had been something intimate and comforting about it, especially on the hard nights. If he was having nightmares again, all he would have to do was wake Kai up and they would go, no questions asked. Sometimes they talked about it, sometimes they didn’t. But what was important was that Kai was always there, as unfading and unfaltering as the stars themselves.

Yet here he was, the stars shining above him, and Kai was miles from here. The last time he had seen him, Lloyd had tried to kill him. His best friend.

No, he reminded himself fiercely. That was Morro in control then. I saved Kai’s life by fighting back.

But he should’ve done more. He had seen his friend escape with cuts and wounds, while Kai had tried so hard to not hurt Lloyd.

Damn, none of that mattered. Kai would forgive him, he always did. Lloyd just wanted to see him again. He’d know what to say to make Lloyd feel better.

Or, at least, he would just hug him. Lloyd really wanted to be held. The only person who had touched him recently was the ghosts, who more so phased through him than touched him.

Wrapping his arms around himself, he looked up at the stars again. Maybe Kai was staring up at them now, too, thinking of him.

The thought made a smile flicker across his lips, and for a moment, he thought he felt a shoulder pressing against his.

He turned his head. No one was there. Of course they weren’t.

Lloyd looked back at the stars desperately, longing for the sensation again. But, unsurprisingly, nothing happened. He had just imagined it.

It was just Lloyd and the stars, together again, yet lonelier than ever.

---

The Temple of Resurrection, Present Day

Lloyd gasped, blinking back the tears that were welling in his eyes. The sky above him came into sharper focus as he did so. But this time, when he gazed up, he didn’t get the little skip in his heart he always felt when watching the stars. Perhaps it had something to do with being so deep in the city, but they felt colder and more distant than usual.

Even the stars were against him tonight, it seemed.

Maybe his luck had finally run out.

That was probably for the best. It seemed like every time Lloyd got himself captured, Kai managed to plunge himself headfirst into danger, and would almost get himself killed.

Lloyd really hated that about him. If Kai ever died trying to save him, he would never forgive himself. It would be better for everyone if they stayed far away from here.

But then Harumi will succeed in bringing my father back.

Lloyd put his head down. He didn’t know what to do. He just wanted everyone to be safe, but he always managed to mess things up, to throw a wrench in their plans.

And this time, he had messed up so much worse. His father was going to come back, the city was going to be destroyed, Harumi was going to win.

And this time, he didn’t know how to fix it.

Suddenly, a flash caught the edge of his vision, and Lloyd whipped his head towards it, sucking in his breath. A shooting star. He hadn’t seen one of those in years.

Those are lucky, he thought, unbidden. For special wishes.

He was being silly. That was just a dumb old superstition. He wasn’t a little kid anymore, he had stopped wishing on stars a long time ago.

“Make a wish, Lloyd.”

“Go away, Kai,” he grumbled. “You’re not really here. The last thing I need is the Sons of Garmadon laughing at me for talking to myself.”

The red ninja pointed to the sky. “You’re going to miss it.”

“I’m not going to wish on that stupid star, okay?”

“Why won’t you do it anymore? I miss when we used to talk about the stars.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“It’s never too late, bud.”

“Yes, it is!”

“Why?”

“Just leave me alone!”

When he looked up again, Kai- or rather, the illusion of Kai- was gone.

“... because I can’t,” he whispered, to whom, he didn’t know. “Not anymore. My life hasn’t been that simple for a long time. Even the luckiest of wishing stars isn’t going to change that.”

Closing his eyes, he blocked out the twinkling lights above him, letting his vision succumb to blackness.

#ninjago #ninbingo #my fic #rosie writes #ninjago lloyd #ninjago kai #ninjago harumi #this was supposed to be lloyd reflecting on his whole family...#but it turned into just kai #figures XD #FINALLY i felt like i was never going to finish this one lol #oof and sorry it was so angsty #that just kind of... happened lol #hope you enjoyed!#reblogs appreciated!

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

Text

That Would Be Enough

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

Look at where you are

Look at where you started

The fact that you're alive is a miracle

Just stay alive, that would be enough

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Summary: Dumbledore is dead and the pieces start to fall apart or in to place...

A/n: Okay guys, this is a great chapter because you get to look into the past and into the future and also you get to see the loose ends start to tie themselves... who’s ready for this to end soon? Not me, but at least I’m figuring out how I want to end it. Also, my postings will be a bit more sporadic because I’m in college and have a job and so writing, though still fun takes energy that I rarely possess...

I stood and Draco was beside me. I looked to him frantically, wondering what was next. What would be next for the two of us?

There was hardly a moment to think for ourselves because beside us, Snape apparated into the foyer, causing my to jump in panic, into Draco’s arms. The professor seemed to take the sight of the two of us in, and something soft and sad was in his eyes before he recovered.

“Are you to unharmed?” He asked curtly. We nodded mutely.

Then the thought ran through my mind, or perhaps I had finally allowed myself to think it.

The man in front of us was a murderer.

The man in front of us saved Draco’s innocence. Something that I couldn’t even do.

My mind begged the question: was Snape good? All I could find were grey answers.

“Is it done?” Narcissa’s voice caught all of our attention.

“Yes,” Snape retorted. “And I expect the Dark Lord to be here any moment, so if you’d like to flee Miss Y/n, now would be the time,”

“I’m not running,” I declared defiantly—foolishly.

A loud crack sounded through the large Manor, and the air grew cold and foreboding. Draco registered what was occurring before I did. He protectively pushed me behind him as many more Death Eaters appeared around us until black flooded the green marble floors. They were all shouting in victory. They were all laughing and grinning. Even behind their masks, it wasn’t hard to understand their pure joy about the death of Dumbledore.

My fingers gripped Draco’s cloak as I went numb, by choice or perhaps not. My mind shut down and had gone to autopilot. One look in Draco’s eyes and I knew that he had as well. His hand still found mine, however. That was one thing, even numb, that would never change. Narcissa came behind me, holding my shoulders—comfortingly or defensively, I wasn’t sure.

One thing broke Draco’s perfect mask and made Narcissa gasp in terror. The sight of Lucius. I could barely make out a clear image of his father, only the long silver blond hair that I knew well. On the cold ground, Lucius looked desperately to something—someone.

The Dark Lord.

I could not mistake this being for anyone else. The creature that haunted my dreams and plagued my reality. Not meters from me. His cruelty revealed everything.

I had never seen the Dark Lord happy, but a gruesome smile distorted his ghastly face. My grip on Draco’s hand was so tight that my nails dung into his skin. If I had control, I would have lessened the pressure, but the control no longer belonged to me. Instead it belonged to the beast in long dark robes with blood red eyes.

Words left his lips, but I had no power to listen. It wasn’t until other people acted upon me that I had any reaction to the events around me.

Draco held firmly to my arm and Narcissa to my shoulders, refusing to let me go. To let me be pulled into the circle of Death Eaters next to Lucius.

“Ah, ah,” The Dark Lord refuted gently. “Come, bring the girl,”

Narcissa’s hands left regretfully and Draco met my eyes, terrified before he let me go too.

I was shoved into the middle of the circle of Death Eaters, wand gripped tightly in my hand. Before me, I could finally see Lucius—looking more ghostly than I had ever seen him, frail and defenseless. A storm of emotions overwhelmed me. Anger overpowered the others. He had hurt so many of the ones I loved. Not fifteen years ago did he kill me father in the same room.

Maybe I’d have the pleasure of vengeance after all.

“A gift for you my dear,” Voldemort purred, as if to read my thoughts. “I heard you were marvelous in using the Cruciatus Curse on Precious Potter, and I wonder if you’d like to display you skills again?”

My eyes flashed from hallow grey eyes to vivid red ones.

“You want me to...” my voice wavered. My anger fizzled out.

“Well of course, you did aid dear Draco in his mission, and were quite marvelous, I thought it might only be fitting to reward you,” His false kindness eerily swept through me, leaving me in uncertain ground. “Just think of all of the hurt Lucius has caused you. He murdered your father, abused the one you love for years and still he kneels there on the ground loathing you,”

In my mind I saw the death of my father again. The fruitless pleas that fell from his lips. The bright green flash that ended his life.

Tears stung my eyes as my gaze fell upon Lucius again.

Then I saw a shade of Draco in those troubled grey eyes: The night of the third trial and the absolute dread in Draco’s eyes. The night of the ball as this man spoke coldly to him. The breakdown Draco had not a month later. The need for healing potions to be on hand. All because of the man before me.

My lip quivered as the tears fell silently. But then my memories shifted.

To Draco chasing after me at the ball. Or the day we first kissed that summer. Seeing him on the train. The day he defended me from Umbridge. Every smile and every tear. The nights when he broke and the days when he was put back together.

That was so much more valuable than my hatred for Lucius.

Then my eyes met Narcissa’s. They were frozen in shock and fear. I could see the desperate pleas in them to spare her husband’s life. A woman who went through two wars, desperate to keep her family together. Losing one sister to insanity and another to disownment. Losing a husband to hatred and a son to darkness. A woman who welcomed me with opened arms because she believed that I could pull her family back together, even for a little while. She had faith in me. In the kindness and goodness in me.

That was so much more valuable than my hatred for Lucius.

“Crucio,” I whispered, the spell taking no effect on the man before me.

“Like you mean it my dear!” The Dark Lord encouraged. “Let out all of your hatred and anger! Every wrongdoing, every lie, every injustice!”

“Crucio!” I called out louder and still there was little effect. The circle of Death Eaters around me snickered, mocking me.

“She has had a long day My Lord,” Snape spoke up. “Perhaps she will be better suited in the morning after a night’s rest,”

Voldemort’s blood red eyes peered at me, but I was at peace. There was no thought for him to have. My mind was plate glass. A reflection for him to gaze upon.

“Perhaps,” The Dark Lord echoed. “Take her out of my sight,”

Again, I was grabbed and thrown hastily out of the circle and into not Draco’s arms, but Narcissa’s. There were tears in her eyes and a kind smile on her face as she led me upstairs to Draco and my shared room.

“Thank you,” She wrapped me up tightly in a hug. “That was a kindness I didn’t deserve,”

“My love for you and Draco outshines any malice I have towards Lucius,” I whispered. “You’re my family, and family sticks together,”

She pressed a kiss to my forehead and cradled me close. Tears fell down her face as soft sobs wracked her frame. There was a knock on the door causing us both to jump. Narcissa wiped her eyes quickly and composed herself opening the door only to meet Snape.

“They’ve gone, he requires medical attention,” His voice was soft and curt.

Without hesitation, I rushed to Draco’s bathroom grabbing three vials: healing, thoughts, and anxiety. I brushed past Snape and Narcissa, heading down the stairs to where Draco was cradling his father, unshed tears in his eyes.

“Here,” I knelt beside him, uncorking the first vial.

Draco and I worked like a well-oiled machine as the potions took their affect onto his father. Some color returned to his deathly face. Snape and Narcissa both had their wands drawn, casting healing and protection spells of their own. Lucius’ breathing became steady and no longer did he look like a corpse. Though he looked aged, he looked human.

“Thank you,” Narcissa murmured, stroking Lucius’ hair from his face. “You two get to bed,” she ordered softly.

“Y/n,” Snape called before I ascended the stairs. “The Dark Lord will be waiting for you to torture Lucius. He will not let you fail in this attempt.”

“I... I can’t do it. I never wanted to do it in the first place to Harry,” I confessed, my voice rasping.

“You must.” Snape rose. “For the sake of your life and for Draco’s. This is a different game now.”

I nodded and took Draco’s hand, rushing up the stairs and into the safety of our room. Like his mother had, Draco wrapped me up into his arms and only then did I realize I was shaking rather violently. I didn’t feel panicked, but my body said otherwise.

“Thank you,” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “You were kind in ways that I never could have been,” It seemed that the only even that either of us could process at the moment had been the past few minutes.

“I couldn’t do it. Not when I looked in his eyes and saw you,” I whispered into his shoulder.

“What are you going to do?” He asked. “You... the Dark Lord isn’t going to...”

“I know,” I sighed. “I don’t know what to do. But I won’t cast another Unforgivable.”

“Maybe it’s time for you to leave,” his words held a softness as he cupped my face. “To keep you safe.”

“I can’t leave you here, Draco,” I refuted. “I won’t go. I have to show them I won’t be broken. I won’t let hatred win,”

“Do you understand how dangerous this is?” His words became curt. “You could be killed for showing any disloyalty.”

“I know, I know,” I dismayed. “But I won’t run. I won’t be a coward... and I have nowhere to go...” There was nowhere that I could go that I knew wouldn’t be a target or a suspect for hiding me.

Draco huffed and ran a hand through his hair anxiously.

“Okay,” He gave in. “We should get to bed,”

“Dray,” I groaned. “This is my path as much as it’s yours. Please don’t push me away.”

“I’m just trying to keep you alive,”

“My life isn’t my own anymore. I’ll willingly die for the good,” As soon as the words left my mouth my thoughts flashed to my father. “That’s why he did it.” I marveled mostly to myself. “That’s why my father wasn’t afraid of death,”

Draco stroked my cheek softly, the warmth in his grey eyes proving that Lucius would never be the man that Draco was.

Silence fell over us. Our minds, in sync, went mute. The phantoms of last summer guided us tonight. The warm silky water of a bath in his porcelain tub. The comforting scents of florals and memories. A trail of cloaks, robes, and clothes followed us to the bathroom and into the tub. My locket laid beside his family ring on the marble counter. His hands draped the water over my chilled skin, massaging away the tension in my muscles.

A year ago, there had been one mark on the two of us, now it seemed that there was no end to where our damage and scars were. And yet I didn’t feel shattered. I didn’t feel broken. Silent streams of tears trailed down our cheeks. They weren’t just of fear and anger, but perhaps also of relief and hope. What we dreaded had been done, now there were pieces to pick up. There was something to do. It wasn’t the brightest direction, but it was direction.

The shine of the moonlight reflected off of Draco’s eyes as we laid together in the comfort of clean cotton sheets. My fingers carded through the silver gossamer of his hair. I slipped into slumber in the comfort of the storms of his grey eyes.

My dreams were vividly bizarre. Trails of what ifs. Of almosts. Of what could have been.

A bright green flash coming from Draco’s wand. Coming from my wand. Draco dead in my arms. The last glimpses of life as I laid in Draco’s arms. Harry staring us both down, defending Dumbledore. Pinnae flying away in the night to a small home in the Grecian countryside and never looking back. Pinnae falling, falling, falling, flightless. Down from the Astronomy tower and to the cold unforgiving ground below.

A soft unintelligible mumble pulled me away from the free fall down. I was steadied. I was wrapped in comfort. I was draped in soft blankets and warm arms.

“Just a dream,” Draco slurred sleepily, his eyes not opening. “You’re okay,”

I hummed a response and curled back onto his chest, settling back into sleep.

___________________________

“He’s not going to forget her,” Severus huffed, pacing the room. “Y/n will have to prove herself,”

“I know,” Narcissa sighed, sitting beside her husband.

Lucius had not yet woken since he had been healed, and though Narcissa knew that he was not on the verge of death any longer, his health was still failing.

“She’s just a child,” Narcissa insisted hopelessly. “She has no business in all of this,”

“She doesn’t have a choice anymore Narcissa!” Severus declared. “She chose this path. She chose to stand beside Draco, and this is where that road leads!”

Silent tears fell down her cheeks, lost in a memory.

“It’s not safe for you Cissa,” Lucius’ voice was quiet and urgent. “Go now, before it’s too late,”

“I’m not leaving you,” Her stubbornness might kill her one day, but she wasn’t giving up on him.

“The Dark Lord will kill you, and I can’t lose you my darling,” Lucius stroked her cheek softly, “You’re too important,”

“Then you know why I must stay,” She closed her eyes leaning into his touch.

“Please,” Lucius begged. “If not for your life, then for Draco’s. He’s just a babe.”

“This family will stay together,” Tears stung her eyes. “He needs his father as much as he needs his mother,”

“You’re not going to like who his father becomes,” The whisper was barely heard. “Please Cissa,”

She shook her head, tears running down her cheeks and into his hands.

“She knows that,” Narcissa answered softly. “More than anything she knows the consequences of her choice.”

“And how can you be so sure?” Severus demanded.

“Because she was me,” Her fingers trailed down Lucius’ face gently. “I never thought I’d have to live through another war—to walk through another one with him,” She paused and turned to Severus. “But Y/n knows what she’s doing.”

“Then why are you so adamant on protecting her?” He demanded.

“For the same reason you are,” It could have been an accusation, but it wasn’t. It was sad and soft. Hopeless in a way.

“We can’t protect her in a desperate chance to change the past, Narcissa,” It was just as hopeless.

“But we can try, can’t we?”

Lucius’ hand was ice cold in hers. His body was still riddled with Dark Magic and his time in Azkaban had not aided it one bit. There used to be an inkling of warmth in his skin, but now, it had vanished.

“You’re welcome to stay,” She offered. “The invitation is always open,”

A quiet beat passed.

“I will.” Severus answered. “He’ll need more looking after. And so will she,”

“She will make it Severus,” Narcissa pressed as he went to exit the room.

“That’s what he said about Lily,”

In the morning, Narcissa found you and Draco curled up together in bed, still sound asleep though the hour was becoming closer to afternoon than morning. She didn’t dare to rouse you two. If you could manage to sleep, she’d let you.

When you were finally awake and presentable, both eating in the kitchen, Narcissa could see the determination and uncertainty in your eyes as well as the familiar unease in Draco’s. You two were having the same disagreement that she and Lucius had. Draco no doubt wanted you to hide away, to be safe. And Narcissa knew that leaving was the last thing that you were going to do.

“When do you think he’ll be back?” Your voice was small as you cradled your mug in your hands.

“It’s hard to say,” Severus answered. “Time doesn’t work the same for the Dark Lord. It could be hours; it could be days.”

You nodded and leaned against Draco. It made her heart soar when she watched the two of you together. Draco’s comforting and protective nature that came out for you. And the trust you had in her son. It made Narcissa believe that she might have done something right after all these years to see her son this contented.

“Come,” Narcissa smiled softly, offering her hand to you. “You should learn how to heal Dark Magic,”

Wide-eyed, you followed Narcissa up the stairs, Draco shadowing you both, and into her bedroom where Lucius was still sleeping. Leading you beside the bed, Narcissa drew her wand.

“The easiest is medicari,” She instructed. “It will heal any physical wounds. The deeper the wound the more times you should repeat the spell,” You two nodded softly.

“To cleanse dark magic from the bloodstream or body—expurgatio” Narcissa turned to Lucius and brushed a stray lock of hair from his face as she cast the spell. Under her wand tip drew forth an inky blackness from his chest.

“A lighting charm, my dear,” Narcissa instructed.

You drew your wand and cast the charm, drawing it near to the darkness at the tip of her own wand.

“Dark Magic, after drawn from the body and exposed to light—” you watched as the ink vanished. “—has nothing it can do but run and hide,”

Draco’s face held an air of thought as you remained quiet in thought for a moment. Narcissa could see that you were trying to form your words in such a manner that they made sense, and that they didn’t draw you into a breakdown. Draco’s hand slipped into yours. Your thumb gently traced the scar that ran along the back of his hand.

“Snape...” You began, “He—he used a spell. It sounded like song... when he was healing Draco,”

“The Song of The Lost Soul, yes.” Narcissa sighed softly. “It is not an easy feat to cast such a spell. Whereas many spells are one or a few words, The Song of The Lost Souls requires perfect cadence and pronunciation to be of any aid. If not, it is rendered useless.”

“But if it works?” You asked, curious, hope in your eyes and voice. “It’s one of the most powerful healing spells known to wizards.”

“I want to learn it,” Your determination didn’t surprise Narcissa in the slightest. A smile graced her face at the sight of your eagerness.

“In due time, my dear. For now, why don’t we begin with expurgatio,”

Slowly but surely, with each time you cast the Cleansing spell, your wand gripped more and more of the dark magic that plagued Lucius blood stream. Draco would touch a Lighting charm to the Dark Magic, and it would flee every time. After a while you paused and went quiet.

“I don’t want to have to hurt him,” the confession was soft from your lips. “But if I don’t...” Your eyes met Draco’s a hopeless expression on your face.

“I understand, my love,” Narcissa comforted. “I’ve walked in your shoes before. I know the sacrifices and choices you must face.” She took your hand and smiled softly. “You have a kind soul. A strong soul.” With a soft breath in she continued. “I taught you these spells, not only to aid you in your oncoming battles in this war, but also to let you know that whatever is done, may be undone.”

You processed the words, your eyes growing in realization. “You mean... you want me to...”

“Mother,” Draco’s brows furrowed, surprised himself.

“I don’t will it, no.” She confessed. “But I understand why it must be done. Stars above know the things I was forced to do to gain the respect I have among the Death Eaters...” She looked down at Lucius, “Though I do not think you are aiming for their respect nor should you, I do believe that it will be a comfort to know you won’t be killed.”

“I... I don’t even know if I can,” Your voice broke as your gaze dropped to Draco’s hand in yours. “All I see when I look at him, is you two... and I can’t... I can’t imagine hurting either of you.”

“That is not what the Cruciatus Curse entails, Miss Y/n,” Severus spoke, spooking you a bit as you jumped a bit and Draco’s arm wrapped around you protectively on reflex.

Severus stood from the armchair accompanying the window and neared the bed.

“The Cruciatus Curse was originally meant as a way for a wizard or witch to alleviate all of their anger and frustrations. It was a spell directed at the stars, never at a soul, never at another man. Of course, it became distorted over the year unto what it is now, but I digress,” The tone was familiar to Narcissa, and it seemed to you two as well—a formal teaching tone.

“So... I don’t... I don’t have to hate the person I use the Curse on?” You squeaked, your eyebrows drown in confusion and revelation.

“Not particularly, though it does help.” Severus took a tight breath in.

“But... in the bathroom... I used it on Harry,”

“And you were scared and angry,” Narcissa comfortingly placed a hand over yours. “All of your frustrations and fears that had been growing over those months were let out on Harry. Not that you loathed him specifically, but he was on the receiving end of your fury.”

____________________________

“So, I can cast the Curse with no intention of wanting to harm the person I’m casting it on?” Disbelief colored my tone. “How is that in any way safe? Or fair?”

“It’s not my dear,” Narcissa replied. “Which is the reason the ancients deemed it Unforgivable.”

“And I think you’ve seen that first-hand,” Snape remarked. “Though he is quite loathsome at times, I don’t truly believe that you hate Potter,”

“Debatable,” I muttered, causing Draco to chuckle beside me.

“You don’t,” Draco murmured in my ear. “Because I know you. You’re too kind,”

“He probably hates me,” My voice was weak and small. “You should have seen his face...” Worrying my lip, Draco pulled me in closer.

“Potter is very hot headed and impulsive,” Snape tried to comfort. “And he has no authority over you either,”

“But he’s the chosen one,” I protested, miserable. “Everyone cares about his opinion and what he thinks,”

“I think you’d find a few flaws in that statement,” A smile barely touched Snape’s lips. “You were quite the leader yourself in school. The students were just as willing to follow you as they were Potter,”

“Me?” I squeaked, my mind reeling. “But I’m just me. I’m not special. I’m not the chosen one. I’m just a bloody Hufflepuff for Merlin’s sake!”

“And that’s what everyone adores about you,” Draco interjected softly. “Though I’d like to go on record saying you’re extraordinarily special,” A smile played at his lips. “But things aren’t handed to you like they are Potter. You never had the advantage, and when you did, you used it to rescue the underdog,”

“Draco is right, the Slytherins are quite fond of you,” Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Sometimes I wonder why you weren’t one,”

“Anything’s better than Slytherin,” I muttered without thinking.

Draco laughed beside me, pressing a kiss to my temple. “There’s my Y/n,” He murmured softly. “I was getting a little worried there,”

The day was spent nursing Lucius back to health as best that Draco and I could. My trial of the Unforgivable forgotten for the moment. And I prayed that it would never come.

When Lucius’ cold grey eyes opened and landed on me, fear gripped my heart. But it was in vain. His hand reached out and covered mine as he nodded once, before closing his eyes once more in rest. Amity fell between us, knowing that there was forgiveness somewhere in my heart for him. Maybe it was a forgiveness that mirrored in Draco’s eyes as I sought him for reassurance.

“Happy birthday, love,” I whispered softly as the hour passed midnight as the two of us stared up at the stars.

“Don’t remind me,” He grumbled, causing me to laugh softly.

“And why not?” I mused, raising an eyebrow at him. “It’s not every day that you turn seventeen,”

“But you really wanna talk about it now?” He dismayed. “It’s not worth celebrating,”

“Look around Draco,” I pressed. “Look at how lucky we are to be alive right now,” Tears stung my eyes as I took his hand holding it tightly. “It’s more than enough to celebrate,”

He hung his head, closing his eyes, his shoulders rising with the deep breath that he took. Laying my head on his shoulder, I pressed to his side.

“It is enough,” He whispered softly, pulling me into his arms. “It’s more than enough,” His weak smile mirrored mine.

Draco’s hands came up and cupped my face softly, pulling me in for a calming kiss, sealing that us being alive was enough. That I was enough. That he was enough. That the quiet night with the fireflies and the stars watching over us was enough.

A letter came for me the next day from Prof—Lupin requesting me at the next Order meeting being held at Fleur and Bill’s cottage on the seaside not far from the Manor that night. The four of us debated whether or not it would be safe for me to go alone, knowing that I would be the only one allowed. And though Draco was hesitant, he urged me to go. A sadness lingered in Snape’s eyes at well, but he agreed. It was only Narcissa who had a qualm.

“They can track her Apparition,” She reasoned gently. “We need to keep the Order safe...” Her eyes met Snape’s, and something passed between them.

“I’ll fly,” I offered off hand. “No one will know that it’s me, and if they think I’m flying, then no one will be able to find me,”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Snape’s monotone voice seemed uninterested, but I could see that the questions burning behind his eyes.

“And that’s how it’ll have to be,” Draco took my hand, “Are you sure you can make the trip on your own?”

“You’re not coming with me, then we’ll be found,” I refuted the hope in his eyes. “I’ll have to go alone,”

And what Snape didn’t see was a white and bronze barn owl taking off toward the sunset, on her way to an Order meeting.

...............

“Lupin?” I gasped out, steadying myself from my transformation.

“Sirius said that you were able to do that... didn’t give much away thought,” Lupin mentioned offhand, almost talking to himself. “What took you so long?”

“Long flight,” I muttered, leaning against the door jamb of the little house. “They can track Apparition. At least mine, I guess.”

“Really?” He seemed surprised.

I nodded and fidgeted with my sweater. “They all hate me, don’t they?”

“It’s quite divided actually,” A smile ghosted at his lips. “Those of us who know you, we don’t, but those who got the story from Harry on the other hand...”

I groaned in defeat and rubbed my face. Then I held my head high and nodded.

“Alright,” I concluded, “I’m not afraid to face the consequences of my actions.”

Lupin smiled warmly. “I can see why Sirius liked you.”

“You miss him,”

“Yes,” He paused then continued. “But there is more to life. I’m sure you understand that,”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Do you think he would have been proud of me? My dad?” I was almost too afraid to ask.

“More than you could ever know,” Lupin appeased. “In fact, that’s why a lot of us are so divided about what to do with you, because your father was in the same situation with your mother,”

“My mother wasn’t a Death Eater,” I muttered. “That complicates things doesn’t it?”

Lupin stared at me like I had two heads. “Y/n, your mother is a Death Eater. Or she was in the first war.”

I froze. My eyes going wide. There must have been true panic or horror on my face because Lupin neared me, placing his hands on my shoulders.

“Y/n, breathe,” Lupin instructed. “I thought you knew,” A soft shake of my head declined his statement.

“Well, that changes things a bit...” Lupin muttered. “We need to talk to Moody,”

“Will you—give me a minute...” I squeaked out, sinking into a kitchen chair. I hung my head in my hands, wishing nothing more to find comfort in Draco’s arms. He would know what to do. He would know what to say.

“What is she doing here?” A snarled voice asked.

Lupin’s arm shot out, holding me back from going off on Harry. Or maybe he was protecting me from Harry. I didn’t know. I wasn’t paying attention. I was too shellshocked.

“She is a part of the Order,” Lupin defended sternly. “She has a rightful place here,”

“So, we’re going to ignore the fact that she aided the murder of Dumbledore!?” Harry shouted.

Silence fell.

“No,” I whispered softly. “I helped kill Dumbledore,” My voice was soft and broken and obviously not what Harry was expecting. “I helped kill Dumbledore. I’m in love with a Death Eater. I’m the daughter of a Death Eater. I’m the daughter of a member of the Order of the Phoenix. I’m the child of a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff. My father’s dead and my mother’s gone.”

I spoke mainly to myself, but loud enough for everyone else to hear. “And I know that,” My eyes met Harry’s. “So, what are you going to do about it? Berate me? Scream how I don’t belong here? How massively fucked up my life is? Is that what you’re here to tell me?” My voice stayed soft and calm. “Because believe me, I already know,”

My words sapped all of the anger from Harry and caught the attention of the other members of the Order as they filed into the small kitchen. “It’s not about what I am, or where I come from, or who my parents are. It’s what I’m going to do from here on out and what I’ve been trying to do all along.” Again, I met stubborn green eyes. “I’m going to save Draco Malfoy. I’m going to fight for good. And I’m not going to let anyone, or anything stop me,”

There was something I realized about Harry in that moment where we differed immensely. He had no restraint and he never hesitated. He was hot headed and made rash decisions. He took everything that was offered to him and then some. The game he plays he takes and raises stakes without anyone else’s consent. He had an endless uphill just as I did. He had something to prove and almost nothing to lose.

I had everything to lose. Everything that I fought to keep. Everything that I fought to have. If he could thrive in the middle of the struggle, then I’d wait for my time to thrive.

I was willing to wait for it.

________________________________

“You think I don’t know what I’m doing!?” He roared, near tears. Remus placed a hand on his shoulder and Sirius held James back. “What would you do for Lily, Potter?” He straightened, shaking off Remus.

“My wife isn’t on the wrong side of the war!” James spat.

“It’s easy to love those who love you isn’t it? It’s easy to love the good, isn’t it Potter!?” The words held ice shards. “You think you’d understand. You’re a father as much as I am in this hell, you think I don’t want what’s best for my family!? What will keep them alive!?”

“Boys!” McGonagall shouted reprimanding them. “You two are acting like children. We are on the same side of the war here and unless we work together, we’re not going to survive.” Her stern look silenced them both.

“Walt,” Alice reached out as he went to leave, shifting a small bundle of sleeping blankets in her arms, “Please, we do want you here,” Frank came up behind her, reaching out for him.

“She’s right, Walt.” Frank affirmed. “You deserve your place here with the rest of us,”

“Thank you,” He nodded. “But I need to get home to Elizabeth and hope Y/n hasn’t been giving her too much trouble,” The fire had left from his voice and weariness remained.

The Longbottom’s nodded as he set out into the night, apperating back home. The small farmhouse in the outskirts of town welcomed him home more than any consoling word from the Order ever could. He knew that the two people he loved more than anything in the world were inside that farmhouse. The two people who never questioned him or denied his loyalty.

“Walt?” Elizabeth’s voice chimed up from the nursery.

“Yes, it’s me,” Maybe he didn’t hide his weariness well enough because a soft concerned look was on her face as she met him in the hallway.

“Maybe her and I should...” Elizabeth trailed off. “You wouldn’t have to...”

“You think I’d walk out on you? On our darling girl?” Walter shook his head and pulled his bride into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. “You two are worth more than a war,”

“I love you,” Her voice was broken as she clung to him, unshed tears in both of their eyes.

The soft cry of a babe broke their moment. Walter neared the crib to see a little pouting face start to snivel.

“Oh, now what is the matter?” He cooed softly gathering the child into his arms. “I’m right here sweetheart,”

Rocking her softly, her cries quieted, and large innocent eyes stared up at him. It was those eyes that made everything that James said, or Sirius muttered worth it. Those deep and trusting eyes that held wonder and love in their naivete.

Elizabeth placed a soft hand on his shoulder, and he turned, for the first time seeing the exhaustion on her face. He knew that no matter how harsh James was or how many times he came home feeling defeated, his love had a harder battle to fight. One that wasn’t built on love, and trust, and goodness. But wickedness, cruelty, and evil. He loathed having to see her bare that burden on her shoulders.

“I’ll put her down for the night,” He whispered softly. “You go on to bed. I’ll be there in a moment,”

Alone with his child in a quiet room on a peaceful night, he began to hum softly. He sang of sunshine and happiness in the midst of grey stormy days. When he looked into those eyes he knew for sure that no amount of Dark Magic would affect her soul that was laid bare in her gaze.

And her eyes went from wonder and awe to peace and slumber. Placed in her crib and warded by protection spells and charms and talisman, he headed to his Elizabeth.

She was combing through her long hair, sitting at the mirror in the bathroom. He came up behind her and rubbed her shoulders softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“How are you feeling?” He murmured softly.

“A little drained, but since having Y/n, and because Narcissa has her little Draco now, they seem very adamant to protect the two of us... you should see Severus stand up against him. He knows that Narcissa and I shouldn’t be doing Dark Magic... then Regulus backs him up and...” She went quiet, lost in the memory.

Curled up in bed, an amity fell over the house.

“Narcissa’s little Draco is just a darling,” Elizabeth spoke softly, curled up into his arms in bed. He could smell the florals and spice of her shampoo linger still in her long damp hair. “Such bright blue eyes. Just turned three months today,”

The days were gentle and calm, though fear came at the on every side. Some nights Walter would be left alone with his little girl, sometimes Elizabeth would. It depended on who had a meeting and where it was safe for their baby girl. And despite her kind nature, even barely a year old, there was worry underneath about what would become of her. It was new generation of Dark Magic, and branding. Two babes had been born from a parent with a Dark Mark, only little Y/n grew inside her mother who was riddled with Dark Magic. The other nurtured by a mother loyal to family.

The tiny babe wrapped in a soft pink knitted blanket had been cradled in Walter’s arms as the next Order meeting went on. Not that he paid much attention. His attention was divided between the warmth his darling offered, rocking her so that she stayed quiet, and then he gave half a mind to Dumbledore speaking about the Dark Lord. And in focusing on his babe, his mind wandered back to the innocence of his own childhood, of meeting his beloved Elizabeth.

She was draped in flowing green, looking as if she belonged in some high-end party, not a dance for grade school. It made his heart skip a beat when his eyes caught hers. Those eyes that held mystery and passion that he adored. They held secret study sessions in the library and elusive nights in the Astronomy Tower, desperate to keep their love a secret from their Houses and the other students.

“Go and talk to her,” Lily nudged his arm.

“You know why I can’t,” Walt sighed. “She’s a Slytherin,”

“Not all Slytherins are so bad...” Lily argued softly. “There’s hope for her too. For both of you,”

“You really think?” There was hope in his voice.

“Trust me,” Lily smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “She’ll love you being you.” Her eyes drifted to the crowd, finding a face that meant nothing to him but everything to her. “Go before you miss your chance. You’ve waited for her long enough,”

He heeded her words and made his way across the grand hall that was dressed for the holidays. She was standing with the Black sisters, two of which moved from his way, and one blocked him.

“What’s an ickle Hufflepuff doing here?” Bellatrix cackled. “You’re not wanted little badger,”

“Bellatrix,” Walter greeted politely. “I’m not here to entertain you, but rather ask for Miss Elizabeth to dance,”

The sisters turned to their honorary sister of House. Her cheeks flushed pink, but there was hope and joy shown in her eyes as she took his outstretched hand.

“Are you sure about this?” She whispered under her breath as he led to her to the dance floor.

“I’ve waited too long to show the rest of the world that I love you,” He affirmed, holding her close as the next waltz began.

Though he knew all eyes were on him and his love, he paid them no mind. Instead he focused on the scent of perfume that was mirrored in Amortentia. He focused on the sound of her pretty laugh and the way she threw her head back in joy. And more than anything he focused on those eyes that held his entire world.

“How long have you known?” Walter asked softly, stroking Elizabeth’s cheek.

“About a month,” She smiled, her hand cradling her stomach.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come home,” There were tears in his eyes.

“I wrote to Dumbledore, but I know you my love, you’ll fight until this war is over,” Tear fell down her cheeks softly. “I’m not sorry,”

“Neither am I,” Walter let out a hopeless laugh as his tears fell, holding his bride close. “How are we supposed to raise a child—”

“Just stay alive, that would be enough,” Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him. “And if this child has a fraction of your smile... of your heart... that would be enough,”

“If they had a fragment of your mind... look out world,” Walter smiled, pressing his lips to her forehead. “That would be enough,”

“Walter?” Frank drew him from his thoughts, from the eyes of his baby girl. Alice mirrored his stance, a smaller bundle of blankets cradled in her arms.

“Will you be our Secret Keeper?” Frank asked with a solemn tone. We need to hide, we need to keep Neville safe,”

Walter nodded; determination mirrored in both father’s eyes.

________________________

My Dearest Andromeda,

I hope that this letter finds you well, and I hope that you will give me the time to read it. I have much to tell you and much to ask that I know I am not allowed nor owed, but I beg of you anyway.

I know that your daughter is now married to Remus Lupin, and to which I congratulate the union. I know that Lupin will be good to her. But that is not why I have written.

My Draco and Y/n are now in very deep with the Death Eaters and I fear for them as I feared for our lives through the first war. And perhaps you understand because you managed to erase yourself from our family and flourished regardless. And for that I apologize and esteem you for.

You remember as well as I do how much our Elizabeth loved Walter, and now by some miracle, their child has been placed in my care after Elizabeth carried out her orders from the Dark Lord to keep her Y/n safe from him. She writes to me even still, asking about her child and is comforted by my words of her success and prosperity, knowing that she can never come back to her daughter while the Dark Lord is alive.

Which is why I beg of you to offer a place for dear Y/n to come and stay. I have offered my home, but the Dark Lord has demanded that the Manor be the base for his Death Eaters, and I cannot allow Y/n to be drawn under such an influence. She is good and I know it in my heart, and you can see it in her eyes, but I fear greatly as to what should occur if the Dark Lord manipulates her any further. She is powerful and has potential and power for great good and evil.

Please dear Andromeda, for the sake of Walter and Elizabeth and the second chance that they both gave the three of us. For their child who was marked from birth as was mine.

Your sister,

Cissy

______________________________

Narcissa,

Remus and Nymphadora have told me much about Y/n and the fire she possess in her heart just as her parents did. I have fallen in love with a girl I have not met yet and still I feel as if I am responsible for her as I am for my own Nymphadora.

With a heavy heart I mourn the years lost between us, but I can rejoice that the legacy of Walter and Elizabeth change and alter your heart even still. My heart goes out to Elizabeth as it goes to her daughter, as it goes to you and your son.

She is welcome in my home while school is not in season for her. She will be safe and protected here from the Dark Lord and his claws. I have no doubt that Bellatrix is also a reason for fear in your heart as much as the Dark Lord is. I pray that you come to see the light, and though I know there is barely a hope, I pray that for Bellatrix as well.

Send her at first light my dear Narcissa,

Your sister,

Andy

____________________________

“I have another aunt?” Draco asked.

“Yes,” Narcissa sighed softly. “She was disowned by our parents because she was a blood- traitor, much as Sirius Black was.” A quiet moment. “You also have a cousin, Nymphadora Tonks,”

“Tonks is his cousin!?” I gaped. “Hufflepuff, Auror, Metamorphmagus, Tonks?”

“Yes,” Narcissa nodded, a smile playing at her lips. “It seems that you two have quite a bit in common now that I think about it,”

“And...she’ll be safe there?” Draco asked hesitantly, taking my hand.

“She’ll have a home while she isn’t at Hogwarts,” His mother affirmed. “Now that your father is feeling better and the Dark Lord has decided to make the Manor his headquarters. There may also be a chance that she can escape her fate with Lucius...”

“I can’t stay,” I murmured the realization.

“No, I’m afraid not, but not for the main reason you think my dear,” Narcissa consoled, piquing my interest. Draco and I exchanged a glance and turned back to her. “Whether you knew it or not, you and Draco and connected, since you were born,”

“I’m sorry, what?” We both demanded, looking at each other once more.

“It is quite amusing how fate played out, having you two come together like this but... yes. During the first war there were two babes born with parents holding the Dark Mark that survived. One was paternal, one maternal.” She gauged our reaction.

“But...that doesn’t mean anything... does it?” I asked timid.

“No one knew and no one still knows. It simply means that you two were both destined for something beyond the ordinary,”

“If... we were both born marked,” Draco spoke like he would while walking through a complex spell or potion. “And I have the Dark Mark... wouldn’t that mean that she’s marked for it as well? That fate...” He trailed off, his grey eyes holding fear and discomfort.

“I’m fated for the Dark Mark,” I understood what he couldn’t bring himself to say. “And if I stay here...”

“Your fate would be sealed,” Narcissa sighed softly. “Which is why I need you to go to my sister, and stay away so that you might avoid this,”

I nodded and took Draco’s hand in mine

“I love you,” I whispered softly, just for him. “And I’m not afraid. I know who I chose,”

“As long as you come back to me,” He nodded.

Wrapped up tightly into his arms, I breathed in deeply, the last time I would be comforted by his arms until September. The beginning of the first chapter I had to write on my own until I found my way back to him.

Epilogue:

“Thank you, for your hospitality,” My voice held a soft tone, already missing Draco’s warmth.

“Of course, my dear,” Andromeda smiled. “Come,”

She showed me to a spare room that I assumed used to be Tonks’ because even cleaned up, I could see the chaos of her style linger still.

And though I thought I’d never make it through a night alone, let alone three months, somehow, they passed. Like the slow ticking of a clock that didn’t bother to mock me. Instead there was something reminiscent about the summer. Of writing letters to Draco and waiting for his to arrive. To be in a small home filled with happy memories and warmth of muggle books and films and music. It left me in tears more than I cared to admit, because it was something that I never thought would be mine again.

Something I didn’t know that I was waiting for, nor longing for.

Something that made three months seems like mere months, not an eternity waiting.

Chapter 12

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ask-prime-starscream · 4 years

Text

Okay, so hear me out. How about I change that certain movie a bit? Let’s start right when Unicron-Megatron arrives at the field with the Predacon bones and Starscream gets an orgasm thinking his beloved abuser master is back.

I feel so bad for Starscream. He thinks everything is going to be okay again. Megatron is his protector after all. The only one who bothers to keep him around. What’s getting punched in the face and getting ridiculed from time to time when you aren’t left for dead? At least to Starscream it’s a good deal because he is used to abuse. Sometimes I think about a scene where Unicron not only punches Starscream, but threatens to kill him. If Megatron actually had a slither of fondness for Starscream or at least remembered what a total wild card he can be in the grand scheme of things, he could have tried his mind tricks on Unicron like he did with Predaking before. I don’t know. Just to humanize him a bit. Think more of Starscream than that he suffers entertainingly. Buuut, let’s keep it as canon as we can. Scrap that scene. Let’s focus on things that actually could and should have happened!

When Unicron revives the Predacons, Starscream flees and Shockwave stays back because he is a slow inferior ground vehicle. Well, remember that Starscream pays back his debts? Remember that Shockwave grabbed Starscream at the end of season 3 and probably saved him from imprisonment or death? (I highly doubt the Autobots would have killed Starscream if he had had the chance to “avenge Megatron”, but Starscream just expects the worst from everyone, so...) Since a horde of zombies is scary either way, Starscream flees at first, but then he decides to help Shockwave, the bot that kept him company and was his comrade after Megatron’s demise. Shockwave is about to be overpowered, but a few missiles give him some room to move again. Zombiecons really are not much better than Vehicons, Predacons or not. Megatron revived a whole army and Optimus and Ratchet had little problem slicing and dicing them all back in season 1. Dark energon is really overrated. It’s worthless actually. Megatron is a fool.

Anyway, as a nice quote from G1 which we know TF series can’t get enough of, Shockwave climbs on Starscream’s vehicle mode and together they can escape. We know Starscream is strong enough to carry Shockwave. He had no problem flying Knock Out around. Shockwave probably thinks that Starscream’s dangerous move was illogical, but Starscream just tells him to shut up.

What happens next? They try to free Knock Out and the Vehicons of course. The more the merrier. With Shockwave around, Knock Out thinks twice about who is gonna be the winning team here and doesn’t stab Starscream in the back over some petty thing. A petty thing I would call the emergency brake writers pull when A: Starscream gets a friend. Or B: Two male characters get some really nice chemistry.

I personally have no problem with Knock Out basically being a spineless Starscream who believes in nothing but his looks. What I have a problem with is the way he is treated. He is fucking dangerous and came pretty close to killing some members of team Prime. However, “No Autobot except Cliffjumper dies in this series by Decepticon hand” syndrome prevented that. He doesn’t believe in any of the Autobots’s morals. He doesn’t care if humanity gets wiped out. He has no honor, no loyalty. He contributes absolutely nothing in the fight against Unicron. The Autobots shouldn’t have treated him like a longtime member of team Prime. He shouldn’t have gotten away scot-free at the end of the movie as if he was actually good! It’s so unsatisfying and completely unearned! Breakdown, Starscream, even Dreadwing would have been better candidates for the turncoat. But nah, fuck actual character, Knock Out is cute and funny! He shall be good now! WRONG! Knock Out is a chicken shit opportunist, who will follow the faction in power. He would have submitted to Unicron if Unicron wasn’t about complete annihilation. Something like that shouldn’t be rewarded. If RiD did one thing right, it was showing Knock Out to be uncaring about Autobot stuff and just racing around on earth. So. Phew. Rant over. We will have none of that shit here. Decepticons and Autobots are at a standoff. And Bee won’t pull his dumb “Do you believe me or your own eyes?” shit either. Instead we do something else.

Arcee knows that Starscream follows somewhat of an honor code. He had saved her from Airachnid and spared her life. So she tries to actually bargain with him. While the other Autobots are more like “The heck are you trying here, Arcee?”, she starts talking about whether Starscream really wants to abandon Cybertron and lose it to destruction, this time irreversible. After all, he had put so much effort in reviving it, getting the keys and all. Bee maybe catches on and strokes his ego and Starscream is like “Whoah, what you guys say isn’t even that wrong...!” Shockwave is skeptical, Knock Out just wants to be safe, but everyone comes to the conclusion that together, Autobots and Decepticons, they might have a chance. And so they do their all to fight for their home. And with “do their all” I mean it. They use everything. The Autobots free Soundwave from the shadow zone and if there is one good thing about Soundwave, it’s that he follows Starscream’s orders. Without Megatron, Starscream is the leader of the Decepticons, just like he had been in season 1. Also the prospect of beating Unicron out of Megatron’s body might motivate him too.

So they fly with the Nemesis to Primus’s anus and get battle ready.

In order to give the Zombiecons the smallest attack surface, they position themselves accordingly. Every Iaconic artifact gets used. Immobilizer, phaseshifter, shield... the Nemesis’s cannons... It’s a crazy fight and everybody is contributing. And then Starscream says “I would have never thought I’d die side by side with a grounder” to Knock Out and Knock Out responds with “How about side by side with a friend?” and... Maybe we even get some nice Autobot/Decepticon teamwork. Some really nice, fanservice-y shit. But the battle is hard and even with the Predacons joining them, they are about to be overwhelmed...

Until Prime and Wheeljack show up. Unicron finally enters the battle himself and Optimus and him start an epic fight surrounded by Autobots, Decepticons, Predacons and zombies. It seems like Prime will actually win and the morale is high. Until Unicron throws him to the ground and stabs him, Megatron screaming in his head. That’s not how Megatron had intended for their eon-long fight to end. He is overcome by guilt and regret. After all, his tinkering with Unicron’s blood had caused this outcome. Him, being nothing but a puppet, killing the one he once called his friend.

The Autobots are devastated and unbelieving. The Decepticons are more like “Oh no, I guess...” Then Bee pulls his leader potential out of his aft since it’s time not for gods and Primes to define destiny, but for the average man! He quickly advises everyone to focus on Unicron and keep him occupied, never letting him target just one and overwhelm them, but having an advantage thanks to their quantity. Wheeljack holds Primus’s spark box like a hot potato asking what to do with it now and Bee says, they’ll get it where it belongs. So all of our good flyers are supposed to get the box to the core. Predaking, Skylynx, Darksteel, Soundwave, Starscream eye each other like “Is that a good idea?”, but there is no better plan. One of them holds the box while the others flank him, protecting him from any potential Zombiecons slipping through the now far weaker protection of the remaining bots. Unicron becomes aware of what is happening and follows them. With his super ultra speed he quickly catches up and the flyers have to throw the box from one to the other in order to get it out of Unicrons reach. Once more they show how important camaraderie, teamwork and friendship is... eh... even if all the flyers are Decepticons and Predacons, lol... Like... Like this is a GOOD moral, okay?! Different species working together, even though they were evil or kinda evil... there is worth in life, even if said life wasn’t always pure.

Eventually, one of them opens the box and throws it in a last ditch effort towards the core, reviving Primus. The sparks burst towards the sky and Unicron’s spirit is ripped from Megatron’s body, carried to who knows where... whatever Primus deems right.

Now, everything is good, isn’t it? Well, not for Megatron. He doesn’t have a place on the new Cybertron and chooses the exile. But Starscream is having nothing of that. Cybertron is theirs to take now, isn’t it? The Decepticons agree and Bee and the Autobots are like “Really?!?”, while the Predacons are like “Whatever... don’t try shit with us, though.”

Megatron is absolutely against any more carnage and says the war had been a mistake. Starscream can’t believe what he is hearing. Everything he ever did, was for nothing? All the losses? All the beatings? He tries to convince Megatron and tells him what he had done in his name. Cloned more Predacons, tried to avenge him. He is loyal for fuck’s sake!! He is like Megatron has always wanted him to be! Now that is all wrong and he had suffered uselessly?

Megatron just says, that Starscream had wasted his time. Then he wants to fly off, but Starscream holds him back, grabbing his arm. How can Megatron leave him now?! Megatron pushes him away and hurts his wing so he won’t get any ideas of following him before he transforms and flies away.

Starscream is devastated. He has a breakdown. He reaches for his hurt wing and Knock Out is the first by his side, hearing him cry: “I can’t be alone again!” Knock Out shakes his head, smiling faintly. “But you have us.” Indeed. Even Soundwave was just disillusioned by Megatron’s sudden antics. There is no use following such a coward.

Autobots and Decepticons form a shaky peace agreement for now, everyone having to deal with the losses of their leaders and their almost destruction. The tone is somber, but Cybertron lives again. It is time for a new beginning...

#Starscream #Megatron #Arcee #Knock Out #Shockwave #long post #wall of text

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mcheang · 4 years

Text

This was submitted to me by @andromeda612

My ideas were added in orange

Idea/Prompt(? : is a new semester and Marc joins the class! Everybody is happy, Marc is such a sweet boy and a caring friend! Obviously the most happy are Nathaniel, Alix and Marinette.

Lila is not. Some nobody is stealling the attention! And it's not fair! She is dozen times more interesting and is obvious that this boy doesn't like the spotlight! But it's ok, the hype would decrease in a couple days. She would be the center of the universe again.

Except that it didn't happen.

Marc is very likeable specially whe he opens up with his friends, also once he is comfortable enough he shows his 'mom friend' side and is so endearing! Marinette, Alix and Nathaniel are the ones who can see this side of him the most, though. But the class is so touched by it, they also want to help him.

Also he and Nathaniel make one of the most popular comics in Paris, and all the class (even Chloe but she would never admitt it) are fans. Oh and Marc is an awesome writer and storyteller!!! Sometimes they manage to convince him to tell some of his stories and forgot completely about Lila.

Lila: but my stories are real! (You wish!) Isn't it more excited?

Kim: yeah, your experiencies are pretty cool, but Marc's stories are just too AWESOME! even if they are just stories, and he is a very good storyteller... once he controlls his nerves.

Not to mention Lila’s bragging has become rather tiresome

Her ego doesn't like this at all. She tries to befriend the boy, maybe she can take advantange of the new darling of the class (and is obvious Marinette is fond of the guy, so it would be a plus to piss her of)

But it is more difficult than she thougth. Everytime she tries to talk to him he just gives her short answers and stammering, he doesn't even make eye contact, and is hard to mantain a conversation straight. She tried to complaint with her minio... 'friends' but...

Lila’s friendly approach is too forceful and bold for the shy Marc

Max: oh yeah, you see, Marc has a lightly social anxiety, so it takes time for him to open up with new people. With the exception of Marinette, Nathaniel and Alix, apparently they manage to win his trust and friendship very quickly. Like some people would say, they just 'clicked'

Alix: Yeah, and Nathaniel and Marc definitely 'clicked' in more than one way if you know what I mean.

The girls giggle.

(Of course that I HAVE to put some Marcaniel here)

Mylene: is not something personal, it took time for all of us to befriend him, but now we are very good friends, and he even is our new "mom friend" I'm sure you would be his friend too, you just need to be patient.

But patient is not what she is, specially when she has to share the adoration and attention of her dumb classmates. Even Nathaniel, who never was one of her admirers or paid her that much attetion like the others do, seems to has eyes only for him! It was low blow to her ego.

Actually I feel like Lila can be patient if the Ladybug episode was anything to go by...

She tries to speed up the proces by charming him with one of her faboulous 'experiencies' and 'conections'

It backfired bad.

Because when she finished to tell her lie a very confused (and uncomfortable because he is still shy around her) Marc started to point out all the holes in her lie and the wrong facts or nosenses in it, with proof. AND IN FRONT OF THE CLASS

She was sure that having the support of her classmates during her tale would help to amaze him, but now the others are seeing her with a confused frown, she need to fix it!

For her luck Marc was starting to look overwhelmed for the attention their confused classmates were given him, so Marinette took him outside to calm him down. She took the chance and did some damage control. Somehow she manage to save face but was a very close call.

Now, the boy is clever than the rest of her dumb minions, and he actually almost got her exposed, so he is clearly a threath, specially if Marinette talks to him about her lies. If he already didn't find it out by himself.

Lila needs to take care of this new obstacle, so she decides to go hostile.

What Lila doesn't expecto is the Marc protection squad.

It turns out that after that close call some of her classmates were skeptical and noticed that something was off (they already had this feeling since Mari was expelled, but they brush it off, but now...) this classmates are Nathaniel, Alix, Kim and Max.

Alix noticing the mood in her friends was the one who brought up the topic, they talked and after a little thinking and the input of Markov they realized that Lila was lying. Then Alix remember Marinette's claims about Lila and decide to talk to her.

When they found her she is talking with Marc, of course is about Lila and her lies, luckily Marc is a good listener and has his own suspicions. They all talk, Marinette's friends finally listen to her and discover Lila's true colors, they apologize and she forgives them, after all despite Lila's threat they never treated her different and were still good friends with her, it hurt that they brush off her concerns but everybody makes mistakes.

They also discover that Adrien knew, at first they were angry, but then Mari calls Adrien and he explains his motives, and well the poor boy really didn't knew better, but he does now and a deal with devil is punishment enough, also he is the reason Mari's name is clean.

Now that they are in the same page, and Adrien is also present (through video call) Marinette tells that now she is more concerned about Marc.

He almost got Lila exposed and he wasn't even trying! Lila is going to see him as a threat and will make everything to get ride of him, just like she tried with her.

That make all of them worried and angry, Alix and Nathaniel the most. So they decide that the bitch needs to fall.

They would protect Marc (and Marinette because despite the deal they highly doubt that Lila would let her alone) from every scheme Lila tries. They also will research and collect proof to expose her.

Lila's first plan is hostility, the boy is terrible shy, it would be easy intimidate him and use fear to controll him like a puppet.

But every attempt goes wrong or backfire somehow, she is caugh in the middle of some of them, of course she says is all a misunderstanding or an accident, but she can't get close thin ice.

Also she can't cornered nor threaten him like she did with Marinette, the boy is NEVER alone, he is always with Alix, Marinette, Nathaniel, Kim or Max, EVEN ADRIEN would keep him company if either of them aren't near.

Then she tries to frame him, maybe she stole an important object from some classmate and tried to planted it in Marc's school bag, but when she tries to put the item in it her arm gets caught by some trap.

Of course she tries to complain against Marc, but Marinette is quick to defend him, Marc is a little paranoid about his stuff, specially his journal, and due to past accidents with stolen stuff (everybody glares at Chloe) she offered to make some security system for his stuff. Marc frees her arm with the key of the trap and shyly tells her that if she needs to borrow something the next time she just need to ask. The brat actually has the nerve to lectures her.

Marc: it’s rude to touch other's belongings without their permission.

And when Marc looks in his bag and takes out the stolen item she tried to make her move, but before she can even open her mouth the owner inmediatly assumes that somehow they lose it and hugs Marc for finding it and keeping it safe "Thanks mom!"

Aaaaarrrrgggggghhhhhh!

And just badmouthing him won't work, from what she learned about the boy he is a little ball of nerves and so sickenly polite, even Lila has to admitt that it would be hard to believe that the boy was being mean even by accident without a well planted proof. Also all the class seems to adore him, and Alix, Marinette and Nathaniel would defend him with tooth and nail.

She tries again and again, but always end the same, all his stuff is sabotage proof and she ends tramped. And her classmates are starting to look at her with suspicion, because is like the fifth time she is caught and why is she poking around Marc stuff in the first place? And oh! Poor Marc! Is the sixth time in two weeks he almos trip over very bad, and he has have many accidents recently! Is a luck that Alix, Marinette, Nathaniel, Kim, Max and Adrien were always there so it never happen something bad!

Hey! Lila is involved in many of them, some of the accidents were her fault! Is strange, isn't it? (Yep, the squad is sowing the suspicious deeds)

She changes targets, If she can get ride of Marinette again she could drag Marc with her.

But Marinette also has all her stuff with tramps, after her expullsion she is more careful with her stuff and the class is on her side. And now she is more suspicious, first with Marc and now with Marinette, is that she hasn't learned her lesson with all her incidents with Marc? Oh and him? That little wretched boy has the audacy to give her a I'm-not-mad-just-dissapointed look everytime she is caught with Marinette's stuff. The class can't help but agree with their 'mom friend'.

The class is getting wary of her, she is losing control, but she refuses to lose against this nobodies!

Now her exposure: it would be that now that her classmates are suspicious of her they start to take a close eye to her, and they start to notice how she is actually very near of Marc everytime he almost has an accident, and how she would make a comment that sound nice but when you think about it is actually a stab in the back, or how quick she is to blame Marinette, or how she tries to subtle disparage Marc or/and Marinette. And now they are noticing the flaws in her stories.

At the end they fact check and discover the truth, or Lila is caught red handed trying to sabotage Marc or frame Marinette. They complain to Bustier and Damocles with the squad's research, the matter goes to the school board and the principal and the teacher are under scrutiny, Lila's mom is called and she is in so much trouble, karma collect her debt. (Akumatization optional)

Maybe for some reason she manage to get Marc alone, or is what she thought, the squad try to not let him alone but they have a plan for that case. If for whatever reason any of them can't accompany him, Max would let Markov with Marc, and the AI would follow-up closely the writer everywere.

So Lila finally cornered and threaten him (and if you want some bashing she can get violent and actually assaults him) but Markov witnesses everything, and since he is an AI his memories are video and audio recording that can be shown as evidence with his testimony, also Marc gave the consent to be recorded for security because they were suspicious about Lila trying something like that.

And just to put the nail in the coffin, the squad's research is presented to the school board, Damocles and Bustier are under scrutiny, Lila's truancy is discovered and her mom is called, she is exposed to all the class and is in so much trouble, karma happens (akumatization optional)

Maybe she is exposed until the squad present their investigation to the school board and... you know what comes next.

In any case, the rest of the class also apologize to Marinette and promise to do better, she forgive them (because at the end they were still her friends and were always nice to her despite what Lila said, everybody makes mistakes).

Happy ending :D

Bonus: Maybe sometime in the middle of the Protect Marc campaign, or at the end of the take Lila Down, Marc and Nathaniel confess their feelings and start dating :3

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #lila gets exposed #lila is exposed #lila busted #lila salt #ml salt fic #post ladybug episode #post episode ladybug #submission

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prettieparker86 · 4 years

Text

The Ghost of You is Close to Me

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Sadness? set pre-WWI

Note: I’ve been trying to find my writer’s voice again. It’s felt lost and so far away from me. I still don’t feel it’s back per say. My previous characters still feel foreign to me. But when I feel the urge to write now, I try to listen. Not quite sure what this is. Watched a WWI movie the other night and this sort of rushed out of me like a flood, so I let it pour. For this I really tried to imagine what Tommy was like before the war based on the little pieces we've gotten from the show. And I wanted to explore the idea that she sensed he'd never come back, which in a way he didn't. His body did, but not the Tommy from before.

I’m not super well versed in the Romani culture and what knowledge I gained in the past feels mostly lost, I apologize. I was trying to find the word for horse, Grast was the closest I could. As with cozonac. I’m not sure if it’s really a traditional food. My research said it was. I’m trying my best. My intention is not to offend. Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks

Don’t know what I’m suppose to do, haunted by the ghost of you.

It only takes the sight of him to send you running. As fast as your horse can take you, holding tight to the notion that as long as you never stop running then he never leaves. You hide away to the place you would always run to as children. Back when Tommy's mum would drag the whole Shelby brood up into the hills, running away from her pitiful life in the city and Arthur Sr.

Its a grove of trees overlooking a deep fertile valley, the spot where you use to steal away as children. Long before you knew adults could run away from their grief as easily as little ones, and there was no mistaking it, you were running. You secure your horse to a tree branch where she can nibble away on the overgrown grass encircling the base of trunk, and settled atop a rock that's yours as much as it is the earth's. A rock that has only grown smaller over the years as you've grown bigger. Your family comes to this hills nearly every spring. As a child it never seemed different, now all you see is the changes.

Everything changes, this you know, but you swear if you just sit there long enough this change won't find you. It wont be so. Tommy wont leave. You're oldest companion. Your dearest friend. Gazing out at the valley blanketed in a tapestry of green hues, shadow and light, as the overcast sky moves above you - you tell yourself he isn't leaving. Even though the steady ache in your heart makes it feel like he's already gone. You miss him, before he's even left. You miss him... The words echo through you in shuddered vibrations that sting at your eyes, even worse at your heart, as a rogue tear manages to break free and make a run down your cheek before you briskly swipe at it.

You can't imagine him not being there. Being unreachable to you. You cant imagine not listening to Tommy's thoughts, his sparks of creativity, or the way he can make you laugh. You cant imagine him not being there. The hole he will leave, the one already opening up inside you feels unbearable, sickening, and you just want it to go away. Who will be there when you need someone most? Who will convince you things will turn out ok or you should keep fighting even when neither feel true? Who will know you? Who will see you? Really see you and genuinely care? You never felt you took his friendship for granted, never mistakenly felt there were others who could fill such big shoes, and yet now, as the chill of a breeze sweeps by you, sending goosebumps to prickle on the flesh of your arms, you wonder if you cherished that gift enough. You wonder if it meant the same to him and if he will miss you as deeply once you're gone.

You try not to think about it. You've been trying not to think about it since you received word Tommy had enlisted. You've kept yourself busy, both in mind and your hands. Filling the moments whenever he would start to creep in. But in the end its pointless. Because the more you try not to think of him, try not to miss him... The more you do. Its like trying to stop the rain by shaking your fist at the heavens. Futile and maddening. You see him when you're with the horses, whispering and enchanting them the way only his tongue and heart can do. You see him in the glow of a campfire where he'd often gets lost in his thoughts, scribbling them down or creating a loose sketch. You see him in the charming smirk of a young man, or a joke he once told you. He's everywhere. Inside you. A part of you. And denying that never made it less true.

And the thought of living without him feels terribly sad and lonely in a way your heart feels pathetic to admit and yet hopeless to reconcile. It isn't any place you want to be and yet you also have the sense to understand you have no say in that. You feel immersed in the overwhelming ache of your heart, the one that's been plaguing you for days now, when you suddenly hear the stir of your horse behind you. You glance back and watch as she pawns happily at the earth beneath her hoofs, snooting and pawing at the ground as Tommy appears nearby. She loves him. They all love him. You've often teased he's more horse than man and no one notices that more then the horses.

Tommy meets her joy with firm pats along her neck and gentles strokes to her mane and nose. "Hey girl" He greets.

Seeing him standing there both fills your heart with joy and deeper sorrow. Lean and strong, his hair tousled from his ride over, with those piercing sapphire eyes that cut you like a knife and see right through you at a glance. The sight of him like an old beloved quilt, comforting and well known, now tattered and tore as he rips from your life.

"Little bird", he says as your eyes meet. A name he gave you so long ago you cant even remember how it came to be.

"Grast", you answer back.

"How did you know I would be here?" You ask as you look away, not wanting him to see the turmoil brewing in your eyes the way you know he will.

Tommy shrugs easily, "Just knew." Just knew because he knows you, in a way most will never get to know you. Same way you trust in the way you know him and the ways he's shares himself with you.

When Tommy comes to sit beside you, it takes every ounce of willpower not to hug him desperately, beg him to change his mind, beg him not to go, but you don't, because you're sure it won't change anything.

"You heard," Tommy says, the grit of his breath stressing the weight of his words.

"You're a damn fool, Thomas Shelby. What did the crown ever do for us?"

He chuckles lightly to the fire on your breath, the bite in your words and you can see in his eyes he knows they only come from a place of love and concern for him.

"They need fighting men to win a war. " He tells you, as he pulls a cigarette from his breast pocket and strikes a match. Telling you things you both already know. As if it were that simple. As if the need for more men didn't come from the loss of the ones they have.

"Well then I oughta sign up. I can fight." You carry on as you snatch the cigarette hanging from his lip. Allowing yourself to feel the anger this situation ignites inside you, because anger feels far more powerful and safe than heartache and fear.

"ey, god help any man that stands between you and your cozonac." Tommy teases you, the crook of his mouth curling as he await your reprisal. Knowing your tales of blunder and greatest mishaps better then anyone. Your stories are his stories, your journeys connected.

You gasp in mock offense. "He would have eaten it all! Fistin’ it down like the whole roll was his!"

"A good stab of your fork put an end to that, didn' it?"

"He shouldn't have been so greedy." You feign defense and tug hotly at the cigarette, fighting back the smile pulling at the corners of your mouth to match Tommy's devilish grin. A battle you quickly lose as he elbows your side and snatches back his smoke before you jab him back. And just like that you aren't mad anymore. That's something only Tommy can do, make you laugh when you want to cry. Because he knows you... your dearest friend. The keeper of your secrets, biggest fears, and dreams. It's a gift to be known. An even bigger gift to be known and cherished for who you are. You never thought it wasn't, but you didn't realize how much you needed that gift until it was being taken away.

You both grow quiet against the steady decent of the sun at your backs. The low crinkle of burning paper fills and hovers in the space around you both as his cigarette burns down, subtle like the smoke dancing in swirls past his lips. Its the quiet moments that haunt you now. The hours and space he once filled in your life. The echoing loneliness that you know will only expand and grow in his absence. Those hours eat at you, devour you. Gnawing away until you feel raw and desperate to make them stop, because you swear you can't take another moment in that place. Only this time you know it wont stop. There will be no reprieve, no mercy, your best friend is leaving and you can't stop him. And when he's gone, this- This torturous way of existence, with its crawling of time, absence of joy, and echoing loneliness, it will fill the space his light once illuminated in your life. Like thick dark clouds rolling in over the backcountry hills to settle in around you and call you there home.

Tommy has his reasons, none more then Greta you suspect but you cant help but feel he's choosing the war over you, that he's abandoning you, as preposterous as you know that notion is. But there's nothing logical about missing someone. You can't reason it away with facts and rationality. And it doesn't care that it feels like it's killing some part of you. Nobody tells you missing someone is a physical sensation, a state of being above all else - like an empty or upset stomach, like a punch to the chest or falling off a horse that leaves you winded. It's not merely a thought and it's more than an emotion. You feel it in your bones, the tight hollows inside you, the vibrating ache of longing, the chill that settles in under your skin.

Sitting quietly side by side, you rest your head upon his shoulder. All the girls love Tommy, they always have. With his charming smile, deep set eyes that reach into the soul with a glance, and his devilish humor, its easy to see why so many would be drawn to him. And there was a time even you were too, but there was always too many things in the way and what you've built instead is deeper and more intimate because its not bound to the fickle confines of romance.

Closing your eyes, you can see it all so clearly in your mind. Replaying like a reel at the pictures... Wading in knee high murky pond water and reeds in search of frogs to catch. Covered in filth from head to toe as you battled on rain soaked mud hills with John to see who would be crowned king of the mountain. Sneaking off with mum's herbs and spices into the woods to craft witches brew and cast magic. Building campfires from dried old birch tree branches by the moonlight, to bathe in the scent of it, and tell old spine-chilling tales. Gazing up at the stars on warm summer night, seeing who could count the most. Lying awake late at night by candle light trying to read each other's mind. Hiding in the haystack to terrorize Arthur and any unlucky girl he tried to steal away with for a moment alone. Dragging you off to your first pub in Birmingham and knocking some bloke on his ass when he tried to get handsy. Trying to teach you to drive on slick muddy streets, as you swore at him like a sailor when he wouldn't stop laughing. The keeper of your deepest secrets as you are of his. The person who tried to offer you hope in your darkest moments and celebrated you greatest success. Who genuinely listened to you and sought out your thoughts on matters. The person you trusted most with the innerworkings of your heart and mind. The one you trusted would be there.

All of it feels like yesterday. The memories still fresh and vivid. The thought there wont be more to make constricts your windpipe, tightens your heart, as tears you couldn't possibly hold back any longer fill dangerously to the brim of your eyes... You don't know how to do this. You don't know how to live this. You don't know how to say goodbye to him. To let him go. Watch him disappear from your life. And the truth is... You don't wanna know. You don't want to say goodbye. And a part of you feels hurt this seems so easy for him, though you don't actually know it is. And the part of you that knows Tommy's heart, suspects it isn't so easy for him to say goodbye to you either.

The thought you might never speak to him again leaves a frantic feeling trying to rip free from your chest. How do you find peace when you long for someone still there but just beyond your reach, drifting further out to sea by the moment? How do you let them go when everything inside you screams to pull them back in? The tears feel warm as they fall down your chilled cheeks onto the shoulder of his jacket. He can't see your tears, but you swear he can feel them as he pats at your knee in an old comforting gesture you've grown to trust will be there. As Tommy pulls away, you fight with the urge to rapidly wipe away your tears and keep your pride. But as your eyes meet, you realize there's no room for pride here. Staring into his eyes you fear the silence that's already invading the space he holds.

But then he touches your face and you remember to breathe. Though his hands are rough from work, the pad of his thumb feels soft, full, and steady against your skin as he gently wipes away at the tears fallen on your face.

"I'm coming back." Tommy promises you, and you want to believe that more then you've ever wanted to believe in anything. That he will return to you. But you've heard the news of the war, the dyer news that continues to abound. And something deep and sharp within you whispers it isn't true. He isn't coming back, and that quiet piercing whisper radiates more loudly within you then the words on his lips.

"Let's make a fire," Tommy suggests as he gives your knee a final pat. You can see in his eyes he's trying to mend your heart, soften the blow. A solemn smile of acknowledgment creeping around the corners of his mouth, as if anything in the world can be solved by a stiff drink or roaring campfire.

You nod in agreement, there's nothing the dancing flames, glowing embers, crackling branches, and heady smoky aroma can't clear from your mind. Nothing like bathing in a campfire to wash your mind and soul clean.

You rise from the rock in slow unison. You gaze across the rich fertile valley below as it slowly descends into darkness all around you. Vibrant greens from early now turning to deeper winter tones as night begins to envelope all that you see. This place you know. This man you know. As you turn back to Tommy, watching as he moves past the horses.

Your eyes fall closed for a moment as you call to him. You pray he can hear you. The way he use to when you were children lying awake late at night, pretending there was magic between you. "Dearest friend... I love you and perhaps I always will. I see you're headed on a road, and I don't know where it leads, but you will take a part of me with you. It's been yours a long time. I hope you remember its there, I hope you protect it and treasure it. But I won't stand in your way, because that's what it means to love someone more then yourself." You whisper to him, not with your lips but from that place in your heart that already belongs to him. The one he gets to keep. You embrace the truth that your world will never feel the way it did before. You will never feel like you did before. That a part of you dies with him as he slips away. You acknowledge this new reality for what it is, whether you know how to live it or not, whether you even want to.

You take a deep breath and slowly open your eyes.

He's gone.

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #I'm trying my best

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years

Text

Can’t Get Rid Of Me (Part 2 to Can’t Lose You)

Pairings: Zuko x Reader

Summary: Part 2 to Can’t Lose You. Y/N has finally found her long lost love but now it’s their responsibility to ensure the end of the Hundred Years War and to bring a new era of peace.

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: 5600

A/N: There are definitely parts of this that are word-for-word from the show and I do not take any creative credit for those. I strictly take credit for what is my writing. But like... I’m actually kind of proud of this particular two-part series thing I happened to write. It was an idea I had for a while and, while I never planned on writing a second part, I’m glad you guys encouraged me to because I actually like how it turned out (and if you’re a writer, you understand how hard it can be to feel like your work is any good). Thank you all for the support <3

___________________________________

Joining the avatar’s group was easier than you’d expected but from seeing the hodge-podge group of people, you figured that they had a habit of picking people up as they went along. For the few days you were at Zuko’s old vacation home on Ember Island before leaving, you’d trained with Zuko and Aang, working with the two boys to develop your firebending as much as possible before the battle. That was before Aang disappeared at least and you all went off searching for him, stumbling upon the Order of the White Lotus instead.

“Are you alright?” You asked Zuko, coming to kneel beside him as he sat outside of Iroh’s tent.

He shook his head, “My uncle hates me. I know it. He loved and supported me in every way he could, and I still turned against him. How can I even face him?” Though you didn’t see much of who he’d become first hand, Zuko had embarrassingly confessed his mistakes over the years to you, especially those concerning the incident with his uncle.

“If there is anyone who understands what you’ve gone through and why you would do what you did, it’s your uncle. I don’t think he could ever hate you Zuko.” You remembered the way Iroh used to treat Zuko, especially after Lu Ten was killed, and you knew in your soul that there was nothing Zuko could do to make Iroh truly hate him.

Zuko glanced over at you with wide eyes, like he was on the brink of tears from just remembering the disappointment in his uncle’s eyes, “But you didn’t see the way he looked at me when I made my decision to rejoin my father.”

“People are allowed to make mistakes, Zuko. You made your choice then but look at the choices you’re making now. Even if he was disappointed months ago, I think he would be so proud to see what you’re doing now. He loves you more than anything.” Your hand reached out to stroke down his bicep comfortingly.

He took a deep breath before pressing himself up to stand, “I sure hope you’re right.”

You spent the night in a tent with Suki, allowing Zuko to have his time to fix things with his uncle. If he needed to talk to you, he knew where to find you. But he didn’t come until morning so you knew it must have gone really well or really poorly.

The next morning, you found yourself sitting alongside the rest of the group, a bowl of porridge in your hands, the only food you’d eaten in two days and it tasted delicious. Iroh was sitting amongst you all, listening to Zuko as he tried to convince his uncle to come with you all to defeat Ozai, “You can beat him and we’ll be there to help!” Zuko explained passionately.

“Even if I did defeat Ozai, and I don’t know that I could, it would be the wrong way to end a war. History will see it as just more senseless violence, a brother killing a brother to grab power. The only way for this to end peacefully is for the Avatar to defeat the Firelord.” Iroh countered and it was clear from the way he spoke that his decision on the matter was final. He would not kill his brother.

This conversation felt wrong to you. Even though Ozai was a terrible man, and you’d seen years of his horrors first hand, it still felt wrong for some reason to be sitting with his son and brother while they conversed about who should get to kill him. But if it was difficult for you to hear, you couldn’t imagine how difficult of a decision it was for them, but mostly for Zuko, which made you so proud of him. He had come so far from that scared little boy, desperate for his father’s love and approval. Zuko had traveled to the ends of the Earth for his father, literally, but was now finding the strength to put everything behind him for the greater good of humanity and, for once, himself.

Iroh had a very valid point in wanting to avoid direct conflict with his brother. From an outsider’s perspective, the battle would have looked simply like a murder for political gain. You could tell from the look on Zuko’s face that he knew as well. “And then… then would you come and take your rightful place on the throne?” He asked, nearly begged.

His uncle looked away, “No, someone new must take the throne- an idealist with a pure heart and unquestionable honor. It has to be you, Prince Zuko.”

Everyone inaudibly gasped at the suggestion. Everyone had a feeling that Zuko would have a large role to play in rebuilding the Fire Nation but nobody had guessed that it would be as Firelord. Zuko looked the most shaken of all, “Unquestionable honor?” He questioned his uncles decision, every regret he had plastered in his eyes, “But I’ve made so many mistakes.”

“Yes, you have,” Iroh began bluntly, “You have suffered and struggled but you have always followed your own path. You restored your own honor and only you can restore the honor of the Fire Nation.”

Zuko’s wide eyes flicked from Iroh to you, trying to accept the reality of what this delegation meant. “I agree with your uncle, Zuko. I don’t think the Fire Nation could be rebuilt better by anyone else.” You encouraged, nodding your head sincerely. What you wanted to do was hold his hand and try to give him whatever power, courage, and confidence you had to offer but you resisted, only offering the small but very heartfelt gesture.

“I’ll try, Uncle.”

A plan was soon devised as to how you would all plan an attack. Iroh and the rest of the White Lotus would reclaim Ba Sing Se. You, Zuko, and Katara would return to the palace to fight Azula and reclaim the throne as soon as Ozai fell. Suki, Toph, and Sokka would all take down the air ships.

Before long, you were about to climb up onto Appa’s saddle beside Katara and Zuko, where he already sat with the reins grasped firmly in his hands. Just as you reached to begin your ascent up the large creature you’d quickly fallen in love with, Iroh’s hand gripped your shoulder, “Y/N.”

You stopped and turned back towards the man you’d come to see as family yourself, “Yes?”

“Azula is strong. Please, keep my nephew safe. Don’t let him get himself killed.” It pained you to hear Iroh say those words, knowing that they held so much more fear than they sounded. The truth was, Iroh didn’t think he could take losing Zuko like he lost Lu Ten.

You swallowed hard, honestly scared to make such a big promise because you knew that truthfully, anything could happen, and the possibility of any of you not returning was very large. But looking into Iroh’s desperate amber eyes, you couldn’t say anything other than, “I will. You stay safe out there, Uncle.” He smiled a little at the endearing term, something that he hadn’t heard you call him in many years, but loved nonetheless because it made him feel like he had children to love.

“May we meet again, Y/N.” He pulled you into a tight hug, bringing your body close to his. An overwhelming surge of emotion coursed through you as you told yourself that this could very well be the last time you ever saw anyone.

“May we meet again.” Your jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to keep your composure and not dwell on the what-if’s, no matter how valid they were.

The ride over wasn’t too unbearably long but it was spent mostly in silence, everyone too lost in contemplation about the upcoming events to find the energy to say much. You’d never done anything this large in your life. You’d been a servant for the first fifteen years of your life and then a runaway turned bead maker for the last few. The closest thing to combat you’d experienced was training with Zuko and the one time you almost lost control with Azula. None of that could prepare you for the agonizing silence before the storm.

“Hey, are you okay?” Katara asked you.

“Hm?” You perked up, shaking yourself out of your thoughts, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just nervous, I s’pose.”

Your chin rested on your knees as you stared down at the ground hundreds of feet below. The distance down didn’t bother you as much as the feeling of impending doom. “I have to believe that we’ll win,” Katara began softly, “And I know I haven’t known you long but, from what I’ve seen, you’re a very strong bender.”

There it was, you realized. The reason you were so anxious. “I’ve never actually used it against anyone but Zuko, and even that was only for training purposes. I have never actually had to fight anyone, let alone Azula. I just… I don’t want to let everyone down.”

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself. We’re all in this together, win or lose.” She reassured. Your eyes flickered up to look at Zuko, whose back was turned to you and Katara while he flew Appa. Katara noticed the movement and was about to move to take over flying Appa so Zuko could talk with you but just as she went to go, a bright light streaked overhead.

All three of you craned your necks to watch the infamous comet streak across the sky, casting an orange glow over everything. “Sozin’s comet…” You breathed out, the celestial object actually much more beautiful than you’d ever imagine but so much more daunting as well.

Zuko looked back to see your eyes trained on the comet and he felt like he was falling in love with you all over again. Your eyes sparkled with determination and courage in the light of the comet, your hair blew wildly around your face in the wind. You looked like the strongest most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on and he couldn’t wait to kick his sister’s ass and restore the Fire Nation with you.

When the palace was in sight, Azula’s coronation was already underway. You smirked a little at the twinge of satisfaction that nobody had actually attended the coronation aside from the few people that were required to be there. Clearly, Azula was far from the preferred Fire Lord.

“We have to stop this now!” Zuko called back to you and Katara just before he landed Appa right in the middle of the courtyard.

You weren’t sure what exactly was being said when you landed but judging by the scowl on Azula’s face, she was unhappy about it. Before Appa could even touch the ground, Zuko was jumping down onto the ground, “Sorry, but you’re not going to become Firelord today. I am.”

He stood there solidly, unyielding. You and Katara too jumped down to stand beside him. Azula began to laugh hysterically, “You’re hilarious!”

“And you’re going down.” Katara threatened.

You stood to the other side of Zuko, staring down the girl who had been the cause of your torment for over a decade. When you locked eyes with her, she scoffed, “And what? You’re going to beat me with some Water Tribe peasant and a servant? You really are pathetic, Zuzu.”

Gosh, how you were so ready to just destroy her. But none of you moved, waiting for Zuko’s call. In the end, this really was his fight.

When Azula noticed that there was no reaction to her insult, an evil smirk spread across her face, “Wait. You want to be Firelord? Fine, let’s settle this,” She suggested, appearing more composed than she had since you’d arrived, which was almost scarier than seeing her look psychotic, “Just you and me, brother - the fight that was always meant to be. Agni Kai!”

No, this was bad.

“You’re on.” Zuko accepted the challenge, much to your chagrin.

You shot a look at Zuko, wondering why on Earth he’d be falling into her trap like this, “She’s trying to separate us!” You hissed at him, “She knows she can’t take us all so she’s testing you.”

He didn’t look at you, though. He just stared straight ahead, locking eyes with his sister who stared hard and sadistically at him. “I know, but I can take her this time.” His eyes narrowed and Azula’s lip turned upwards in a sick smile.

“Even you admitted to your uncle that you’d need help defeating her!” Katara insisted, desperately trying to talk him out of the Agni Kai. Even though she wasn’t Fire Nation, she knew how serious an Agni Kai was to your culture and that it wasn’t something to be taken lightly.

Zuko looked as if he was analyzing his younger sister, “There’s something off about her. I can’t explain it, but she’s slipping. And this way, no one else has to get hurt.” He turned to you and you could almost see the fear in his eyes. Not fear for his own life but for yours and Katara’s.

You wanted to stop him, wanted to talk some sense into your boyfriend. All you could think about was that promise you made to Iroh. Please, keep my nephew safe. Don’t let him get himself killed. Allowing him to fight alone felt like a direct breach of that promise that you’d had every intention of keeping but something in you told you to let him fight her. “Don’t get hurt.” You gave into his plan, hoping, praying, wishing on everything that you were making the right decision.

Within a few minutes, you and Katara were standing off to the side of the large outdoor space, watching as Zuko breathed deep, centering himself before the duel. You found yourself almost shaking, the memories of what happened at the last Agni Kai you’d attended flooding your memory. It was as if your vision was flashing from thirteen year old Zuko, begging his father for forgiveness, to now, where he was kneeling away from his sister. Only this time, you knew he wouldn’t be granted the same mercy his father had given him. At least then he got away with his life. With Azula, you knew he wouldn’t be so lucky if he fell short.

Katara was tense herself but could practically feel the air stiffen around you. She glanced over to see your eyes almost glazed over, stuck in a memory she’d never see. The rise and fall of your chest had also stopped with your breathing. “He’s going to be alright.” Katara reassured you, gently grabbing your hand, “He has to be.”

You looked down at where your hands were joined and squeezed, eyes returning to hers with a small half-hearted smile, just enough to show that you at least partially believed her. With a deep, calming breath, you swallowed the lump in your throat and raised your head high.

Both siblings came to stand up, shedding the cloaks that were slung over their shoulders. “I’m sorry it has to end this way, brother.” Azula apologized insincerely.

“No, you’re not.” Zuko’s eyes narrowed, already in a starting stance.

And just like that, waves of red and blue painted the sky. Roaring flames shot from both Zuko and Azula’s hands, almost deafeningly so. Zuko’s bending was more passionate and stronger than you’d ever seen it before. Azula, on the other hand, seemed less refined and sloppier than her highness had ever allowed herself to be in the past but that did not mean that her bending was any less effective. There was so much rage and power behind both of their strikes.

You watched Zuko’s moves intensely, mentally trying to tell him what to do, what move might be best, even though you knew that he was a far more well-trained bender than you were. But that was when you noticed that his forms were different than what he’d taught you all those years ago. His stance was wider and he looked more locked in place, like he was a boulder that refused to be moved, when he literally split a powerful flame that Azula sent his way in half. It was something you’d never seen any fire bender do before. In fact, he sort of looked like Toph…

In a small gap between Azula’s onslaught of attack, Zuko took the offense, his arms moving smoothly and gracefully, expelling a stream of fire that almost could have resembled the way water benders shoot water. Your eyes widened. These were not traditional fire bending moves. Could he be using earth and water bending techniques to fire bend?

As the flames settled in a small pause, you and Katara noticed that the buildings of the palace were all aflame, slowly burning to the ground in an orange glow. It was a short lived breath of silence though because Zuko interrupted it with a sudden blast of flames at Azula that nearly knocked her off her feet. She managed to catch herself with a jet of blue flames that projected her off the ground and towards her brother. It went on like this, shot after shot in the most heated, equally matched Agni Kai you’d ever seen.

Suddenly, Zuko dropped to his hands and swung his legs around his body, sending whips of flames at his sister. “Isn’t that airbending?” You asked Katara, though your eyes never left the scene before you. The flame landed and sent Azula flying into the ground with a thud, rolling at least fifteen feet before she came to a stop.

“I didn’t know you could use other bending techniques for a different element.” Katara too was entranced by Zuko’s conglomerated, unpredictable moves. It would have been beautiful to see fire used in such a way if it weren’t for the fact that you were all in the midst of a life-or-death situation.

Azula slowly stood up, her eyes crazed beneath her choppy bangs.

“No lightning?” Zuko taunted, “What? Afraid I’ll redirect it?”

Dammit, Zuko, you cursed mentally, This is not the time to show off.

Azula stood, pressing her weight off her knees, “Oh, I’ll show you lightning!” With that, she began her windup. With two fingers, she directed lightning in electric blue streams around her body. Zuko prepared for the strike, stance strong, hands ready to catch it.

What nobody expected though, was the bright blue bolt being sent at you. It was almost too late by the time you noticed it happening. In a split second, Zuko watched in horror as the lightning blew right past him towards you, your E/C eyes wide with shock. “No!” He screamed, running to jump in front but it was too late.

The lightning bolt streaked past before it could hit him, coming right for you.

The world almost seemed to stop for a moment while at the same time, your entire life flashed by in a second. Your parents playing with you as a child, you and Zuko feeding the turtle ducks just over those gates, Azula burning you, moving in with the kind old lady on Ember Island, and finding Zuko again. But then memories that you didn’t yet make began to reel through your mind in a flash. You and Zuko were together, hand in hand, before an altar. Was that a wedding? Things flashed so quickly you couldn’t see the details. Then came one of the two of you in a room with a bald man with an arrow on his head. He could only be Aang but he was too old and beside him sat Zuko with longer hair; he looked at least ten years older. You seemed to be part of a serious conversation with them. Then, finally, one of you with a swaddled baby sleeping in your arms and Zuko beside you.

Something told you that this was not your time.

Just before the bolt could hit you, you clenched your eyes shut and looked away, sticking out two fingers directly at the lethal electricity coming right at you. With a crack, it came into contact with your digits and coursed through your arm. You brought your arm down to your stomach, or as close to it as you could manage in the heat of the moment, and just held the power there. You had no idea what you were doing. You’d never redirected lightning in your life. Hell, you’d never even seen it done. But in that series of flashbacks, a memory of Iroh telling you and Zuko a story as children about a time he had to redirect lightning during a raid of a city. Zuko had excitedly begged him to show the two of you how he did it and, while he didn’t actually redirect lightning before your eyes, he showed you both the movement for it.

In the few seconds you held the lightning within you, you felt powerful and exhilarated. Your hair blew in the storm in and around your body. You had no idea what it was like to feel so strong but you also had never felt so volatile, like the smallest mistake, the slighted breath, could cause a catastrophe.

Just as Iroh had shown you all those years ago, you brought the fingers of your opposite hand to your stomach and shot out the energy at the ground, tiles shattering where it finally struck.

“Y/N!” Zuko cried out, running over to your body as it crumbled to the ground. You panted hard, trying to catch yourself on your hands and knees but your elbows buckled when you did and you fell face first onto the stone tiles. “Y/N?! Y/N, are you okay?!” He yelled, trying to roll your body over to cradle it in his lap but before he could, Azula sent another blast right next to her brother, purposefully not hitting him. Zuko flinched, shielding your body with his from the shrapnel.

She laughed maniacally, body swinging wildly, “Oh, Zuzu! Looks like your precious little girlfriend picked up a few tricks! Color me impressed.”

Azula assaulted the two of you with another barrage of attacks. Zuko again went to use his body to shield yours but Katara jumped in the way, shooting a powerful stream of water into Azula’s arm to move the lightning. Katara took over the battle for the time being while Zuko held you tight.

“Y/N?” He asked again, eyes wide with worry, almost tearing up, “Please, say something. I can’t lose you!” Those same desperate words that seemed to have haunted your relationship came back around.

He held your face, stroking your hair out of the way. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you struggled to open your eyes. “I’m-I’m alright. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” You insisted with a weak laugh before flinching, pushing your arms behind you to push yourself back up.

“When did you learn to do that?” He asked in shock, helping you sit up.

A loud yell came from Katara as she sent attack after attack of water at Azula. You finally managed to open your eyes enough to see Katara successfully holding off Azula. “Go, help her. I’m fine.” You told Zuko, flinching as you allowed yourself to be helped to an upright position. He looked at you with hesitation in his eyes. You grabbed his collar and pulled him close to you, “Zuko, I’m serious. There are bigger problems.”

With a reluctant nod, he stood up and shot fire at her even more intensely than before, now fueled by rage at her dishonorable attack on you. You were aware of what was going on but for a few seconds you felt disconnected from it. You were still shocked that you managed to redirect the lightning, though not perfectly, of course, otherwise you wouldn’t have collapsed. Your body felt like it was buzzing but no longer with power, more so an emptiness where power once was. And beyond that, a dull burning ache ran through your arms and through your stomach, along the path the lightning ran through.

But, beyond that, you felt relatively okay and, for right now, that had to be enough. With some effort, you managed to push yourself to your feet, strength quickly coming back to your muscles as the temporary that shock rendered them useless for a few minutes faded away.

When you stood, you saw how destroyed everything was. Buildings burned, stone tiles were blown up all over, leaving holes in the ground, and now there were waves of ice. Azula appeared to be struggling against both Katara and Zuko but she also seemed not to mind, still plastering that insane smile on her face.

The three of them had made their way under the canopy off to the side of the main open area. Azula was on the roof, stalking Zuko and Katara who stood underneath. Everyone was silent and you could see Katara and Zuko silently devising a plan but little did they know, Azula jumped down, gripping the canopy to launch herself into a flip. Before she could land or fire, though, you shot a stream of flames at her back, knocking her forward and rolling onto her face.

Her eyes were aflame with rage when she stood up, “It’s about time you learned your place, little servant girl. I spared your life several times but you won’t get that kindness again.”

“I’m not afraid of you anymore, Azula.” You moved to take a strong stance, arms out and ready to deflect any attack she sent your way.

Her amber eyes narrowed beneath her dark jagged hair, “You should be.” With a loud scream, she sent another strike of lightning at you, sure that you couldn’t handle another one since you barely managed to survive the first.

But how wrong she was.

Already predicting an attack of some kind, it was easy to change your hand position and you caught the lightning with your fingertips, brought it down through your stomach, and breathed in for a second - a second that seemed to last forever. It was all coursing through your body again: the power, the volatility, the anger, the fear.

Nobody else could see exactly what was happening. A storm of blue currents blew your hair around your face, covering it from view, and the lightning itself distorted the view of what was happening. Zuko and Katara watched in terror, worried that maybe you weren’t able to catch it and it hit you.

Little did they all know, you had caught it and avoided your heart successfully and now, all there was to do was redirect it. Taking a deep breath, you honed all of your attention on the lightning in your control, forcing as much energy into it as you could, before shooting your fingertips directly at Azula, the lightning coming at her with more force than she’d shot at you.

She tried to move to dodge it but before she could, Katara sent a slick of ice onto the ground just below her feet, sending her slipping instead of jumping like she’d intended. The lightning struck the princess with a loud crack and she fell onto the ground, lying on the cold white ice she’d slipped on.

This time, you felt… alright. You didn’t hurt anywhere or collapse. Instead, you ran towards Zuko and Katara who knelt over Azula’s motionless body. “Is she… D-did I kill her?” You asked, honestly unsure what exactly you wanted the answer to be. For years, you’d told yourself that you’d kill her one day if you ever got the chance but now that took that chance, you weren’t sure if you wanted somebody’s life on your conscience, even if it really might have been for the betterment of the world that she was gone.

Zuko reached down to feel for a pulse and shook his head, “No, she’s alive, but just barely.”

Another wave of confliction coursed through you but, surprisingly, a big portion of it was relief. “What should we do with her then?” You knelt down beside Katara and finally inspected Azula. She was barely conscious, her eyes kept rolling back in her head, but that maniacal smile was finally blasted off her face. Her hair was a mess, just barely held back in the tie anymore. A large portion of her pants were missing, burned away just at the thigh to reveal a massive welting red branch-like wound on her pale skin. That must have been why she was able to survive the hit.

“She needs help,” Zuko sighed, almost sounding like he was at war with himself in this decision, “Something’s telling me this is more than her just being a terrible person. She’ll be moved to the asylum offshore to get the help she needs. And to keep her from hurting anyone else.” His voice got tense at those last words.

Katara moved water from the ground and used it to heal Azula’s leg as much as she could. “Just for now, I was thinking we could keep her in ice? I don’t know what else to do.” She rubbed her legs awkwardly.

Glancing to your right, you saw chains hanging on a pillar and moved to grab them. “Here,” You said, beginning to chain her hands and feet together, her limp limbs moving easily, “Just so when we melt the ice, we still have some leverage.”

“Good idea.” Zuko stood up, watching as you looped the last bit of chain securely in a knot. When it was all good and secure, Zuko gave Katara a small nod and she gracefully created an encasing of ice around Azula.

This whole situation felt strange. The accumulation of a hundred years of war was climaxing right at this moment and you, Zuko, and Katara had all just successfully completed your part of that victory. What felt odd though was standing over Azula, the girl who had tortured you for years, and discussing her fate, which literally was in your hands.

“We did it.” Zuko finally sighed out, breaking the silence, “We actually did it.”

“Now we just have to hope Aang beats Ozai.” Katara rubbed her arms, nervous that the ultimate outcome of all of this wasn’t entirely in just your hands.

* Two days later *

Zuko stood in the hallway of the palace, the walls open and overlooking the surrounding city. He leaned against the half-wall, breathing in the fresh air deeply. His clothes that he’d been wearing for much longer than he’d like to admit while on exile had now been exchanged for the robes of a Firelord. “You clean up nice.” You giggled, coming into the wide hallway.

He turned around to see you walking towards him looking more radiant than ever. Your clothes that you had been wearing when you battled Azula had been quite badly destroyed, ripped and stained with soot and debris. Now, you wore a long dark deep red tunic dress that tied with a slightly lighter band around your waist. It had gold along the inner seams and leading up to the high, traditional collar that was around your neck. The bottom had an ornate design sewn in with amber threads at the bottom.

“Wow…” Zuko breathed out, “Y-You too.” He managed to stammer.

Heat rose in your face, “Thank you.” You finished closing the gap between the two of you, coming wrap your arms around his waist, “Are you okay?”

Zuko bit his lip before half-nodding, half-shaking his head, “I just can’t believe this is happening. Ever since I was little, I was sure my father would find a way to pass along the throne to Azula. I never thought I’d actually be Firelord. But now that I’m about to become Firelord, I guess I’m just scared of making mistakes.”

Your hand came up to his bicep as you pulled him in closer, “Hey, you are going to be the best Firelord in at least a hundred years. You just managed to end a century-long war and I know you have amazing dreams for rebuilding the world.”

“I didn’t end the war alone.” He tried to refute but you just smiled warmly.

“And you won’t have to do all the work to rebuild the nation alone either. We are all here to help you - me, Aang, Sokka, Katara, and Toph.” You reached up to touch his cheek gently and he leaned into your soft palm, savoring the touch. It was the first time he’d ever allowed anyone to touch his scar but with you, he felt safe and secure.

Zuko’s eyes slid closed for just a moment and he brought his hand up to cover yours, holding your hand against his face before pulling it away, intertwining his fingers with yours, “Have I ever told you how much I love you? How much I’ve always loved you?”

A sweet chuckle left your lips like music, “I think you’ve mentioned it a few times. Have I ever told you how much I love you? And how amazing you are? How amazing you will be?”

The two of you stood like that for a while, just holding each other and staring at each other, beyond grateful that the universe allowed you to find each other again. Words could not express the pride and love you felt for this man, despite all of his flaws and mistakes. Zuko only wished he could put into words how grateful he was for your love and support, how much he loved you and wanted to protect you (not that you needed it).

“Nephew, it is time for your coronation.” Iroh chimed in gently, peeking at the two of you from around the corner.

You looked back and gave him an acknowledging smile. “Thank you, Uncle.” Zuko smiled politely at Iroh, who was waiting at the door to escort you to the front of the crowd.

You knew you had to watch the coronation from the ground with the rest of the Gaang but you didn’t mind. You only hoped that Zuko could feel the support from you and the rest of the group radiating from the crowd.

“You are going to be amazing, Firelord.” You touched his face one last time, pulling him down for a gentle kiss.

He smiled against your lips. “I can’t wait to build the new world with you.”

__________________________

Taglist:

(Sorry if this is messed up, I suck at taglists)

@oddlypointlessescapes

@eridanuswave

@egm09

#can't lose you #zuko #zuko fanfic #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #atla #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla fics #atla fanfics #atla imagines #fire nation #can't get rid of me

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Sunlight Through the Window (Sashea) - Mock-Star

Hi yes I know it’s been months since the AS5 finale but school and the pandemic kicked my ass plus this fic ran off in a different direction than I was planning. Also yes one particular scene may have been written because I’m mad at one of the frats at my school.

Set post Rona, Sasha tries to find a way to congratulate Shea on her win during a group trip.

This is cannon divergent, which means for me and my writing that the show happened but everyone is their drag personas. (so in this case she/her pronouns are used for both of them but the smut is written as MM if that makes since).

(Also for any new writers out there, SAVE EVERYTHING because this is also a frankenfic of 2 different abandoned wips along with the new writing)

Sasha was lounging in the bay window of her room in the rental house responding to a few last business emails when Shea snuck up beside her.

“I think they’re getting ready to start dinner because your help has been requested."

"Ok, I just need to finish this last email and then I’ll be done for the rest of vacation and I’ll come downstairs."

Shea smiled in confirmation, but Sasha could tell she had something else on her mind as she squatted down to hug her.

"Thank you for agreeing to come and room with me. It means a lot to me and I’m so glad to finally get to spend some time with you.”

“Thank you for asking me. I still feel bad that I wasn’t able to celebrate with you when you won last year."

"Baby, that was beyond your control. Miss Rona ruined a lot of plans. And plus you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.” Shea kissed her cheek, and Sasha leaned into it.

“For two whole weeks! I can’t believe all of us were actually able to clear out that much room in our schedules!”

“I know! We all definitely need it. I’ll see you downstairs.” Shea said as she stood up and walked out, closing the door behind her.

Sasha hit send on her last email and closed her laptop, then pulled out her phone and went to her messages with Shea.

*“Hey, can I ask you a question?”*

*“Sure. Is everything ok?”*

*“Oh yeah, everything’s fine. Some Chicago queens and I are planning on renting a beach house together now that it’s safe to do so. We need a few more people to get the best deal. Do you want to come with? We’d be sharing a room, but I think others are inviting other New York people.”*

*“Oh my god a beach vacation sounds amazing! Send me some potential dates and prices and I’ll see if I can manage it.”*

*“You’re the best! Sending now!”*

Sasha smiled as the conversation auto refreshed and took her to Shea’s newest message, a close up picture of one of their friends making a silly face. Running footsteps and laughter erupted from downstairs as Shea shrieked at the culprit to give her phone back through laughter.

Later that night, Sasha slipped away to charge her phone, laying down on her bed to send a quick text to a friend. She was more tired than she thought though, because she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, falling asleep in her clothes on top of the covers.

The dull ache of her knees after kneeling on the ground for an extended period of time.

The sharper ache of her jaw after working overtime.

The cramp in her hand after staying in the same position for a while.

The weight of the hard dick in her mouth, pushing dangerously against her gag reflex.

The salty taste of sweat and precum in her throat.

The clammy hands clutching her head.

The rocking of hips.

The whimpers and moans that filled the room .

Her name spilling from stuttering lips.

Nails digging into her scalp.

Eyes flickering up to see her partner losing it.

Eyes meeting, and Shea whispering her name as her crown flickered in the light.

“Sash… fuck babe.”

Sasha woke up with a start when she heard loud banging coming from outside, and she sat up enough to see bright colors peaking through the curtains.

“Fireworks?” She mumbled, trying to make sense of the situation in her groggy state, the details of her dream sticking in her mind.

“Must be the frat a few doors down.” Shea said, and Sasha turned her body enough to see Shea sitting up in the bed next to hers with a book and book light.

“What? How?"

"How do I know that it’s a frat? When those of us who checked us in went to go find main street we saw them in the front yard trying to raise a flag with their letters. I think it said "KA”. Shea answered her question before she could articulate it.

“Kappa…Alpha?"

"I wouldn’t know, either way they might end up catching these hands because they woke you up.” Shea’s answer made Sasha blush slightly, although she was too groggy to articulate why. She reached to adjust her glasses, only to find them missing. She turned towards the bedside table to find them there, next to her phone, still plugged in. It was at this point Sasha realized she was under the covers, tucked in around her legs, still fully dressed.

“It crossed my mind briefly to strip you down to your underwear, but your clothes weren’t visibly dirty, and I didn’t want you to freak out when you woke up.” Shea said, answering her next question. Even though she was tired, her mind latched on to the idea of Shea undressing her and picking her up and tucking her in, and she knew she had to push it out of her mind as she took off her pants under the covers and let them fall to the floor.

“What time is it?” She asked, and Shea reached for her phone to turn it on.

“3am. I’ve been awake since about 2:30 because I had to go to the bathroom and couldn’t go back to sleep.” Shea responded, answering her next question before she could ask it. “I’m going to try and go back to sleep after this chapter, but you should go back to sleep."

"I didn’t mean to actually fall asleep." She said, head already on the pillow and drifting off.

"It’s ok, you needed it. I worry about you not getting enough sleep sometimes. Rest well Sasha, see you in the morning.” She said something else as well, but Sasha was already too drowsy to hear her. When she woke up in the morning, Shea was still asleep, and seeing her made her remember her dream and the groggy conversation she had with Shea, and a warmth went through her, obsessed with the idea.

Unlike what the fans might have thought (or wished for), there was no “winners orgy”, although it did sound fun-ish. Possibly even more shocking, she and Shea had never done anything more than kiss in the brief down moments during shows, soft enough so as to not mess up their makeup, more friendly and good luck wishes than anything. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to explore their mutual attraction, it was that it was never convenient. They certainly weren’t allowed during filming, and they rarely had time alone together without duties or other people in the way, if they were even in the same state. The attraction never went away though, so it didn’t surprise Sasha when a innocent enough cheek kiss lounging by the pool turned into a make out session in the bay window of their shared room the next night, the music and laughter of their fellow houseguests seeming both far away and too close for comfort.

Shea’s kisses were addictive, and with the red wine warmth running through her veins and the heat of the setting sun on her skin, Sasha was utterly seduced. A soft groan escaped despite her efforts to swallow it, and Shea chuckled, catching her off guard when the air tickled her lips. Shea slowly shifted both of them so that Sasha was on her back and Shea was kneeling above her, still kissing her the entire time while Sasha held on to Shea’s shirt. She suddenly broke away, and Sasha pouted until Shea’s lips found her neck. Shea clearly had a plan in mind, and Sasha felt her hands slip underneath her shirt, which had already ridden up and exposed a small section of her stomach. Shea ducked down and pressed featherlight kisses against the exposed skin, rubbing Sasha’s sides with her thumbs, and she could have melted. Her face was flushed red, and she blinked away the tears that threatened to spill. It always surprised her how tenderly Shea treated her during those rare moments of intimacy. Those tight hugs that felt more protective and adoring than restrictive, always interrupted by other people or pressing duties. But this time, there was nothing to interrupt them. Even as Shea moved back up to her lips, the question hung in the air, and when Shea broke away to ask it out loud, her yes came instantly and easily. Shea picked her up and walked to the closest bed, making it to the end of the bed before lowering her onto it.

Her thighs were pressed into her stomach as the warmth of the dusk sun warmed her face almost uncomfortably. Attempts to touch herself were taken over by Shea after she observed Sasha’s movements to mimic them. The intimacy was overwhelming, and after the passion, the tears finally came, after Shea had rejoined her and laid down beside her. She rarely cried after sex, but the tears didn’t stop, silently streaking her face, cooling her flushed skin. She didn’t know if it was because of the sexual tension finally being resolved, because it had been so long since she last got laid, or simply her body trying to regulate itself, but Shea seemed to understand regardless, rubbing Sasha’s head as ot blissfully watched the sky finally go black.

The next morning, Sasha rolled out of bed, shivered, pulled on the closest shirt she found, and groggily stumbled to the bathroom, thankfully for the small nightlight that meant she didn’t have to turn on the actual lights. As she was washing her hands, she looked up at the mirror to check her reflection, and she gasped. In the low visibility of the bedroom, she had grabbed Shea’s shirt by mistake. For some reason, it seemed large on her even though they were roughly the same size, and she was trying to think of why Shea’s shirt would be on the ground near her bed before she remembered. She moved the collar of the shirt over a few inches to reveal the mouth-shaped bruise that had blossomed overnight. She peeked out the door to see that the sheets on the bed closest to the window, her bed, were suspiciously rumpled up, even hours later. The bed closest to the door had the sheets pulled back on one side, and Shea asleep on the other.

She pressed on the bruise on her neck with her thumb, and the ache that left it made her aware of all the aches in her body, ones that were clearly post-sex aches.

Post-sex.

“*Shea and I fucked last night. I wanted to. I enjoyed myself. I want to have sex with her again*"

The realization was not a hard one. But the thought was an epiphany nonetheless, and she felt a wave of relief wash over her, almost laughing as she leaned against the wall and soaked everything in.

She crept out of the bathroom, trying not to wake Shea up, but she seemed to be expecting her, turning towards her and slowly blinking, as if trying to adjust to the growing morning light coming from the window.

"Mornin’ cutie.” She whispered, biting her lip while Sasha awkwardly apologized for waking her up, but Shea chose to ignore it.

“I love the way you look in my clothes.” Shea cooed, and Sasha felt her cheeks go hot as Shea made no effort to hide her eyes trailing up and down Sasha’s body.

“What, no but?"

"Yours"

"Ok yeah I walked into that one.” Sasha chuckled, climbing back into bed next to Shea and letting her take the shirt back off and toss it on the ground when she asked. They stayed in bed until they heard others downstairs cooking breakfast, cuddling and kissing, Sasha blushing when Shea rolled her onto her back and kissed her from her shoulders to just above her groin before she let Sasha get up.

Sasha never thought she had a particularly high sex drive, but over the next few days, it was if a wildfire was inside her. No matter how long she and Shea spent in their room together, she was never satiated. Their bodies were like magnets, pulling together, desperately wanting to make up time. Their housemates only chuckled when they went into their room together. Admittedly, they did turn in earlier than everyone else more than one night, which they brushed off on being tired, which no one bought.

As the first week progressed, conversations turned towards Shea’s win multiple times, and each time, someone joked with Sasha about “congratulating” Shea, which was always met with laughter and Shea telling the person to “fuck off” while laughing herself. Sasha laughed too, but every time someone made the joke, the dream she had the first night played in her head, and she ached with the thought of kneeling in front of Shea, taking control of her pleasure.

Towards the end of the week, Sasha walked into the room to the sound of running water, Shea was taking a shower and had left the door open, something the both of them had gotten into the habit of doing so the other could get ready or use the restroom at the same time. The thought of getting in the shower with Shea entered Sasha’s mind, and she impulsively stripped down and slipped into the shower. She wasn’t entirely sure what her plan was, but all she could think about was her dream and making it come true. Shea turned towards her with a surprised look that quickly turned into a smile.

“Hey baby.” She cooed as she pulled Sasha closer to let the water douse her before Sasha could move closer herself. She wrapped her arms around her waist and squeezed her ass. Her charm was on 100, and Sasha almost forgot why she was in there in the first place. Pulling away slightly, she sank to her knees in front of her. She batted her eyes and bit her lip while she rubbed Shea’s legs up and down. Shea’s eyes went from confused and worried to recognition, and she smiled.

“Oh, that’s what you want, huh?” Sasha nodded, and Shea gently cupped her chin and tilted her head up more.

“Let’s go on the bed, okay baby? It’ll be more comfortable for both of us.” Sasha nodded, standing up and moving to get out, but Shea grabbed her arm.

“In a little bit…” she purred, pulling Sasha back towards her and gently pressing their lips together, finding Sasha’s ass again. Sasha could taste the booze on Shea’s lips and sense her exhilaration. She could feel a newly familiar warmth beginning to pool in her stomach, but she forced herself to ignore it, wanting tonight to be about Shea.

She began rubbing Shea’s sides in an attempt to be seductive. Shea gently nipped at her bottom lip, which Sasha took as approval.

“I’m still topping.” Shea mumbled. “Nice try though.”

Sasha choked, and Shea pulled away just enough to smirk at her as she patted her back to help her clear it.

“You ain’t slick, baby. You’ve never tried to take charge like this before. It’s super cute to see you try though.”

“I’m not trying to be cute.” She pouted slightly, trying to figure out how to vocalize the fact that it hadn’t even been a full week.

“But you are cute. You’re always cute. And sexy. ” Shea whispered, and Sasha’s face went hot as Shea’s fingers slipped between her ass cheeks and circled her hole, something Shea quickly learned would help her muscles relax. Her mind flashed to their first time, with images of the bedspread and distant and slightly muffled whispers of Shea dirty talking, and her legs twitched. Shea smirked before pulling away.

“Stay here, I’ll be back.”

She opened the curtain and went out before Sasha could say something, coming back a few moments later with a bottle that was instantly recognizable. She pulled Sasha closer with one hand and asked her for consent before turning her around, pressing her front against the wall and working her open with her fingers. Shea bent down to kiss her shoulders, she was clearly using what she knew to make Sasha putty in her hands, and it was working. She threw her head back onto Shea’s shoulder, and Shea kissed her cheek.

“Could, Could we go to bed now?” She gasped, and Shea let out an amused breath.

“Sure baby, as soon as we rinse off.”

Sasha was so antsy, the few minutes it took to finish up in the shower felt like an hour. Shea could definitely tell, and Sasha knew that she reveled in holding Sasha up in the shower, stepping out first and handing her a towel, drying herself off languidly. After Shea hung her towel back up, Sasha grabbed her hand and led her to the bed, waiting until Shea sat up against the headboard before crossing over to her suitcase and pulling out a felt crown, long forgotten from filming. She kept her back towards Shea as she put it together, and tried to decide what to say next.

“You know, I never got to congratulate you properly on your win.” She said as she turned around, trying her absolute hardest to sound seductive. Shea’s eyes got wide, and Sasha felt a little twinge of pride.

"You were planning this all along."

"Actually I wasn’t. I haven’t used this suitcase since filming. But I say it worked out well. My queen.” She whispered as she neared the bed and placed it on her head. “It’s not as pretty as your actual crown, but it will do.” Sasha cooed as she settled in between Shea’s legs, grabbing her thighs and adjusting them to rest on her shoulders. Shea reached out and cupped Sasha’s face, stroking her cheek with her thumb.

“The others didn’t put you up to this, did they? You texted me when the episode aired, that’s more than enough for me.” Shea asked, and Sasha could tell she was genuinely concerned.

“Shea, my love, I’ve been dreaming of this moment for a while, I promise. I want this if you want it too.”

Shea’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and she nodded, letting go of Sasha’s face.

“Are you ready, my queen?"

"Drop the queen stuff Sash, but yes. I’m ready."

Sasha purred, resisting the urge to say "my queen” again. She leaned in and pressed kisses against Shea’s length, warming both of them up before suckling at her tip, then taking her in her mouth.

She always went into a trance of sorts when she went down onto someone, losing track of time, focused on their pleasure alone. Licking up and down the shaft, gently sucking the balls, taking as much as she could as deep as she could. Sasha knew how to give a blow job, and she felt she did it well. Tonight though, she felt distracted. Shea’s gasps and moans echoed through her head, and all she could think about was Shea’s whispered teases in the shower. She tried to refocus herself on her task by peeking up at Shea, but she ended up gagging accidentally, and Shea immediately popped up.

“Easy baby, don’t choke yourself for my sake.” She cooed as she caressed Sasha’s face and grabbed the base of her own dick, preventing Sasha from going down that far. Shea leaned back onto the bed to allow Sasha to continue, her moans turning into breathy praises and compliments that turned Sasha’s face redder than it already was.

“Oh fuck yeah Sash”

“Your lips are heavenly oh my god.”

“Look at your pretty little ass, You’re so fucking hot and you’re the one sucking me off oh my god.”

Sasha was attempting to tune her out to no avail, she could hear and understand every word that came out of Shea’s mouth, and Shea knew that, spilling out the compliments and dirty talk until her voice changed and she said something that made Sasha pull off of her and push herself onto her elbows.

“..What?” she croaked out, her overworked mouth struggling to form words, knowing full well what was said. Shea reached out and caressed her face again, eyes dark with desire.

“Sit on my face. Please”

Sasha nodded shakily as she turned around so she was straddling Shea’s torso, and her ass was near Shea’s face. She reached out to continue when Shea grabbed her hips and yanked her upwards.

“Turn around and grab onto the headboard.” Shea growled, and Sasha obeyed, a bit shell shocked. She felt Shea shift down, and she put her knees on either side of her head. Shea grabbed her hips again and maneuvered her where she wanted her, growling in satisfaction before diving in, licking circles and lines, gripping her hips tighter before inserting her tongue into her, moving with Sasha when she instinctively jolted up and guiding her back down as she relaxed.

There was a million things bouncing around Sasha’s brain, words that would form but then get stuck, leaving her mouth as incoherent moans and groans. But Sasha thought Shea would almost appreciate that more. She rested her head on her hands as she moaned, relaxing her body, letting sensation fully wash over her. She felt Shea’s hands travel up her body, to her ribs and and chest, briefly rubbing her nipples before trailing her hands back down as a wave of electricity went through Sasha’s body, sending her up again with a hiss and guiding her back down with trembling hips, her thighs beginning to reflexively squeeze Shea’s head slightly, with every attempt to make it stop making it worse.

Suddenly, Shea stopped, pushing her up gently so she could slide out from beneath her, sitting up and hugging Sasha from behind as she hung onto the headboard still, her fingers unable to move.

“Are you ok to go further Babydoll?” Shea whispered, and Sasha nodded, letting go of the headboard and twisting around to hold onto Shea, who picked her up and sat her back down on the edge of the bed on her back, putting the felt crown back on when Sasha grabbed it and held it out to her as she stood up, her legs trembling a bit as well as she put on a condom, offering her a drink from a glass of water on the bedside table before taking a drink herself, then guiding Sasha down onto her back as she swished the water in her mouth.

Shea held on to her hips and then slid up to her thighs, holding her legs in place and adjusting them so she could have access to all of her. Shea gazed at her for a moment before grabbing a pillow and putting it underneath her, raising her hips up a little, and Sasha felt something deep in her stomach, something warm and desperate.

“You ready?” Shea asked, and Sasha nodded.

“I need you to say yes or no, love."

"Yes.” Sasha whispered, and she watched Shea’s eyes darken with intense focus as she started thrusting, holding Sasha’s hips still as she tried to bounce with her, grabbing her hand and placing it near her crotch, indicating she wanted Sasha to stroke herself.

Within 30 seconds, the felt crown had fallen off Shea’s head onto Sasha’s chest, and Shea brushed away from her reach before Sasha could hand it back to her, and Sasha turned to watch it fall off the bed.

“Hey, I need to see your face. You don’t have to look me in the eyes, but I need to be able to gauge your comfort, ok?” Shea asked, gently turning Sasha’s head back to face her, and Sasha nodded and whispered something resembling an acknowledgment and an apology, which Shea responded to by letting go of her chin, rubbing her head soothingly, and then straightening back up and resuming, continually adjusting Sasha’s hips. Sasha only figured out what she was trying to do moments before she was successful, practically slamming her head into the bed when Shea found her g-spot. Shea rocked against it for a bit, looking absolutely entranced as Sasha’s legs trembled against her shoulders and the rest of her body writhed, smoothly moving back into her previous rhythm when it became clear Sasha would finish too quickly otherwise. Shea clearly wanted to make sex last as long as possible, frequently switching up the length and the speed of her thrusts, gazing at Sasha to see if she liked it, changing it up if she needed to. And it did last a while before Shea’s hips became less forceful and Sasha could tell

she was painfully close, maybe even attempting to hold herself back from orgasm. But any potential attempts were to no avail, as Shea knelt down on the bed and leaned in for a kiss before her body tightened and released with a groan, and Sasha could feel her shaking inside of her, but it wasn’t enough to bring her to her own orgasm, even as she kept on stroking herself.

Shea slowly blinked as her head cleared, making hazy eye contact with Sasha and softly smiling before running her eyes down the rest of her body and seeing that Sasha was nowhere close to finishing. Her eyes lit up, and before Sasha knew it, Shea had scooted her into the middle of the bed and crawled between her legs, groaning in anticipation.

She looked up at Sasha and batted her eyes, waiting for her to nod and whisper breathlessly before ducking down and gently sucking on one of her balls. Sasha’s reaction was immediate, she squirmed and gasped out. That was something else Shea learned early on, she seemed to know exactly what Sasha liked before she could tell her. Shea knew Sasha so well, and so it would make sense that her body was no exception. It also made sense that it barely took any time at all once Shea started sucking for Sasha to finish, Shea’s name on her lips as her thighs shook around Shea’s head.

Next thing Sasha knew, Shea was straddling her and kissing her, stroking her cheek and whatever piece of skin was closest, entangling the two of them into a cage of limbs, which is where they stayed for as long as they could, until Sasha had to get up and excuse herself to the bathroom. When she walked back out, Shea had switched beds, and Sasha had a bit of a deja vu moment to a few days ago, only instead of Shea being asleep, she was sitting up and smiling at her, motioning for her to join her. She strided over to the bed and got under the covers with Shea and went into her arms the moment they were held out, resting her head on her chest and nuzzling into her, thinking about nothing besides the current moment and all the moments before.

Soon enough she would deal with the dread of leaving Shea and this place, separated by miles, cities, and schedules, she wanted to savor every second she could without it being tainted by anxiety.

“I love you.” Shea whispered, “I love you so fucking much.”

Sasha barely heard her, and she sensed it wasn’t for her as much as it was for Shea to say it out loud, so she nuzzled Shea’s chest and ran her hand across her torso, mundane enough to be coincidental, but hopefully acknowledging and reciprocating enough for Shea to understand.

Downstairs, one of their friends called out, asking about a trip to a ice cream parlor, and Sasha and Shea looked at each other and held each other for a few more seconds before getting up and getting dressed, Shea leaving first with one last kiss so as to not seem suspicious, even though no one would buy it. Sasha looked out the window one last time at the sunset as she grabbed her bag, then went out the door, ready for whatever adventure was next.

#rpdr fanfiction #sasha velour #shea coulee #sashea #mock star #canon compliant #smut #fluff #s9 #as5

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idkwhoiamanymorebutwtf · 4 years

Text

Amity absolutely in not going to choose the Emperor’s Coven over Luz.

I keep seeing it suggested that Amity’s ties to the Emperor’s Coven could become an issue. That she may decide supporting Luz isn’t as important as her ambitions related to the Coven. That she might chose to side with the Emperor’s Coven, causing a rift between her and Luz. However I don’t believe that for a second, and that’s for two reasons.

1.) Luz is, as of right now, the most important thing to Amity. It's always felt to me like Amity already chose Luz over everything else. Amity has sacrificed her own physical wellbeing, even putting her own life in danger, to help Luz in the past. There's no way Amity's parents approve of Luz so she's put her relationship with her parents, something she's worked desperately for, at risk just by liking Luz, but she continues to be around her. Amity was willing to throw out her social group for hurting Luz. Why wouldn't she follow the pattern and pick Luz over the Emperor's coven too? And I mean..she must know she'll have to. Amity knows that Luz is Eda's apprentice. She knows that Eda is wanted by the Emperor's Coven. She's gotta know that she'll have to pick between the two things eventually, right? And if her plan wasn't to eventually pick Luz when she had to make the choice, why would she have put Luz before her own physical wellbeing, before her social status, and before her abusive parents' wishes? Not to mention , Amity's greatest fear was being rejected by Luz. It wasn't her abusive family. It wasn't being denied by the Emperor's Coven. It was the idea that she could lose Luz. Which makes it pretty cut and dry what the most important thing to Amity is in the end. Amity has already been willing to put so much on the line for Luz. I feel like she isn't going to stop now. Especially since, tbh, it seems like Amity has never been happier than she is currently. Realistically if you were a normal person with a good strong support system and a healthy conviction to follow your dreams then you wouldn't be willing to risk your life and dream job for another person. However Amity isn't a very healthy person. Her family is abusive, her friends are cruel, etc. Amity made their goals for her into her own goals because she didn't feel like there was anything else out there for her, not becsuse she personally wants it. She wasn't happy. Until Luz was kind and optimistic and showed her the potential that there are good people out there. I mean, why do you think she latched onto Luz so quickly and has put her physical wellbeing, social status, and relationship with her family in jeopardy just through having feelings for Luz and standing by her so far? She's willing to do that because Luz is one of if not the only person in her life that isn't abusing her to some extent. She isn't going to act like a normal person with a good support system and healthy ambitions they care about because Amity isn't any of those things and right now Luz means so so so much to her by proxy of being the only person in her life who's good. I don't think she'd give that up for anything, speaking both from personal experience and from the behavior ive seen her exhibit as of late and how much she's already risked.

and

2.) Siding with the Emperor’s Coven would go against Amity’s strong sense of morality. Amity has been an incredible human being for her entire life. Every flashback we've seen of Amity has shown her as nothing but a good person. She was wrong to treat Willow the way she did, sure, but Amity did it all in an attempt to protect Willow and in the end how could anyone hate her for that? When she was told to befriend Boscha, Amity immediately refused, acknowledging that the other girl was mean, and for as long as the two were friends she never seemed to warm up to the cruel girl. When Amity accidentally got her Grudby teammates hurt she felt so horribly guilty that she quit playing forever. She's made mistakes cause she's a human being and people mess up sometimes, but I honestly think Amity has always been an admirable person. Why on earth would Amity ever support the Emperor’s Coven when she finds out what horrible things they’ve done? And some people suggest that while she’s not a bad person, her ambitions may make her do bad things. But Amity’s integrity has always come before her ambition. That much is made exceptionally clear back in Covention. Amity wasn’t willing to cheat in their magic duel. She refused to lie or cheat and that means that if Luz had really been better than her and won fairly, Amity would have taken the loss. She easily could have cheated. Everyone else did, it wouldn’t have been hard for Amity to do the same. But she didn’t, and she was extraordinarily upset that the other people involved did. Amity was horrified that Lilith cheated in her favor. Even if it helped her look good in front of the Emperor’s Coven, cheating was never even an option that crossed Amity’s mind and she was completed mortified that Lilith tricked her into it anyway. Her ambition was never as strong as her integrity back then, so why would it suddenly overwhelm her morals now? I mean, if cheating in a competition was a disgusting thought that she never considered for a second. Something that Amity screamed at Luz for doing and was completely ashamed when Lilith did it. Then how can anyone expect that Amity would support the Emperor’s Coven after all they’ve done? Even with all the pressure Amity’s under from society in general and her abusive parents, she hasn’t sacrificed her morals yet, and to suggest she might now is to completely disregard the strength of character she’s been shown to possess so far.

“But Wait!” I hear you say, “A clear parallel was drawn between the relationship of Luz and Amity vs the relationship of Eda and Lilith! That means Luz and Amity was likely to go down the same route and become enemies!”

And you are correct that there was a clear parallel drawn between these four in Covention. However i’d venture to suggest that this parallel will be used as a contrast rather than to show history repeating itself.

I’ll start by saying that I personally believe the “history repeats itself” trope is very hard to get right and is only really effective in certain situations, this not being one of them. Tell me, what, narritively, would be the positive effect of pushing Amity and Luz down the same route Lilith and Eda went down? I can’t see any good reason for it except the ~shock value~, and honestly anything you do with a character exclusively to shock or upset the audience rather than to develop the characters in their natural progression is a bad choice by default. There’s no reason Luz and Amity need to be like Eda and Lilith. And in fact, not only is the idea of their relationship being a foil the the Clawthorne sister’s relationship more interesting to me because it has an actual purpose (to show that the sister’s both screwed up their relationship and that if you communicate and try to be good people then you won’t end up in a fight to the death against someone you’re supposed to love and that both sister’s could have made steps to be better siblings but they didn’t and that’s on them), but it also seems to fit a lot more cohesively into the narrative knowing what we do about both the relationship between Lilith and Eda and the relationship between Amity and Luz.

I get the feeling Lilith was always jealous of Eda. That Eda was stronger. That Eda outshone her. It may not even have been fair a lot of the time, after all, Eda is known to cheat her way through things. And it also seems as if Eda, instead of supporting and reassuring her insecure sister, was proud of this and held it against Lilith that she was better. Well, when Luz and Amity first met, Luz outshone Amity too. Amity was angry and bitter and disliked Luz because it fucking hurt to have her achievements taken away from her unfairly. They easily could have gone down the same route Lilith and Eda did. With Luz sticking to her guns and insisting she was better, that she deserved the recognition more anyway and Amity acting like a jealous, vindictive child. But that didn’t happen. Luz tried her best to make it up to Amity and Amity, once Luz expressed her remorse and took steps to make amends, not only accepted it but reflected on her own behavior and admitted she herself could have been better too. How did Amity and Luz manage to overcome a conflict that’s still tearing two grown women apart? By overall being better than Eda and Lilith were. Luz felt terrible for hurting Amity. Eda was proud of outshining Lilith. Amity didn't let herself be overcome with bitterness or jealousy and instead reflected inwardly on how she could have been better too. Lilith just kept getting worse and worse and straying from the path of morality more and more. We can see it clearly in Covention. Lilith cheated. Amity on the other hand would never stray from her integrity even if she wanted to win and was mortified to find out what happened. Eda bragged and taunted and teased Lilith for cheating. Luz ran after Amity to comfort her. Overall Amity and Luz are better than Lilith and Eda and that's why I don't see them making the same mistakes. Another difference I see, Lilith let her desperation for power make her a bad person. Amity realized she was being colder than she'd like to and instantly ditched her cruel friends and tried to he better. Eda let's her wild nature make her inconsiderate (she's not just a criminal for not joining a coven, she does actual morally wrong crimes too) but Luz tries her best to be kind and to make people happy and he selfless in general. As I said before, they're both better than their mentors. Both Eda and Lilith made mistakes that lead them to where they are (although Lilith is objectively the worse of the two, she isn't necessarily the only one to blame for their relationship failing). Because Luz and Amity are a contrast to Eda and Lilith, not a repition of their story. Luz and Amity show what can happen when you communicate and try to understand and empathize with people and don't stray from your own morals no matter what other people may do to you.That's something it doesn't seem like the sister's ever learned how to do, and that's what tore them apart. But it's something Luz and Amity exhibit consistently. Communication, mercy, understanding. and that's why they aren't doomed to be like their mentors. Because as I said before, they contrast Lilith and Eda's dynamic in every way simply by being better friends to each other and people in general.

#the owl house #lilith clawthorne #edalyn clawthorne #eda clawthorne #amity blight #luz noceda

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