#and yet he would kill to keep HER tied to HIM forever. to separate her from him would be his end.

[lesbiancolumbo]

sweet smell of success / feature film directed by alexander mackendrick / short story written by ernest lehman / book by john guare

[princesseevee06]

are there any changes to the floormasters in ytr? <- autistic abt the floormasters

im assuming rio ranger doesnt exist here, because. sei. but im curioieus

i am so glad you asked!!! i’ve been waiting for an excuse to talk about the floormasters, they’re just not as fleshed out as i want them to be yet…(this is partially because i keep agonizing over what i want their designs to look like. it’s hard to find a balance between “silly yet stylish” and “just walked out of the evil clown circus”)

originally, i was planning to keep them the same but i quickly realized that would not work because sei and sou are both participants and therefore ranger and “midori” never Exist. so yes, they (most of them) are swapped too!

i will say that i kept gashu and meister in the same roles though. gashu because i think it would be vv interesting to see kai interact with his father in the death game (since he never gets the chance to in canon), and meister because 1. he almost certainly has ties to sara and 2. atp in the game he hasn’t played a big enough role to the point that i really even know what to do with him? so i was hesitant to swap him at all.

but but but!!! i’ll get into who takes the roles of the other 4 floormasters below (i hope this is what you were asking for???)!!! bear with me if it’s a little barebones compared to the main cast descriptions i’m still figuring things out

Megumi Sasahara > Sue Miley

Tbh I have my suspicions that canon Megumi already has ties to Asunaro so making her a floormaster in this AU felt like a logical move. I don’t have that much to say about her as of yet, but since she’s the first floormaster she sets a much different tone for the beginning of the story in comparison to Miley. Whereas Miley’s presentation feels very ‘cartoonishly evil,’ Megumi is a lot more serious about the game which kind of hammers in for the participants how highly important their captors regard the Death Game. Basically…even more dread and unease…especially after Nao’s death.

Hinako Mishuku (fake) > Rio Ranger

So this one is kind of what spurred on the idea of swapping the floormasters as well, because I really wanted to do something with pink-haired Hinako and/or see her interact with black-haired Hinako. Then I thought of a very tragic idea: what if pink-haired Hinako and black-haired Hinako were twins?

So I thought of the name Hana Mishuku for her. Basically, my idea was that the Mishuku twins’ parents split up because one of them started getting involved with Asunaro, and as a result the twins were separated. While Hinako led a relatively normal life, Hana was stuck with her father and unwittingly forced into becoming an agent for Asunaro at a very young age.

She acts similar to her canon personality, with a sort of dry callousness. She does still have a soft spot for her sister (and seeing her again after years doesn’t help) but she believes that’s something she has to ruthlessly stamp out in order to survive in the organization. (can you tell thinking about her makes me sad…)

Shunsuke Hayasaka > Tia Safalin

I am so sorry to all Hayasaka fans but his character is the definition of wasted potential to me. He clearly had ties to Asunaro (albeit seemingly unwillingly) and yet this is something that comes up like. Once? So I decided to take advantage of it here and make him play a bigger role. Rather than just doing dirty work for the organization, he gets swept into it and he HATES it. He’s pretty much only following orders because he doesn’t want to be killed, and rather than acting like a mild-mannered office worker he acts much more like a jaded, pessimistic office worker (someone please help this man). I also think he’d have a fun dynamic with Hana, but that’s something I’ll likely elaborate on in future doodles…

Momdori/Mrs. Hiyori/whatever you wanna call her > Midori

This one was probably the most fun for me to put together. Maybe it’s bias because the mysteries of Sou Hiyori’s family will forever intrigue me, but I think that his mom (or who I presume is his mom but really we only have a silhouette) has such interesting potential. I definitely don’t believe her and Sou would have a healthy dynamic here, what with just the way both of them act (i.e. insufferably) and their seemingly incompatible views of Asunaro (borderline religious devotion vs. as a tool for further experimentation/entertainment). (i could go on for literally hours and hours about their dynamic in this au but i’ll save that for another day)

As for her actual role in the story, I think she’d act very similar to Midori at first, but over time be revealed to have less of the childish behavior and more cruelty + cult-ish behavior. She’d also regard the participants differently: constantly emphasizing how they’re all fated to be sacrifices for God etc, etc until everyone is incredibly annoyed. (good thing for them that the goal of the subgame is to kill her!)

uhhhhh uhhhh anyways i don’t know what else to say but i hope this satisfies your curiosity! i’ll definitely revisit the floormasters again once i figure out what the hell to do with their designs but for now, as thanks for reaching the end of this rant take this momdori:

[calypso-finale]

Hundred Eleven. Part 5

Who would have thought I would be stood here rapping along to British rap, not me. I could have never predicted my life to be this, but I am not upset with it, I am happy at the point I am at now. I am happy that Tianna is being genuinely happy, to see her smile to be light hearted. I knew from the look on her face how much she was stressed, how much she was chasing after Taylan but to see her happy like this, I love it, but I will kill Damson if he hurts her but I don’t see it, they are being friends first. They didn’t come out front like me, they are backstage still because they don’t want anything to come to light about it, but I think they will be coming out separately soon. I feel like Juke hates me now, Oakley was so angry at him but I think he was more angry at me so he took it out on his brother which was my fault so Juke now side eyes me but I fixed it, I personally do not want that connection and he has a girlfriend, I am protective of Imani so he needs to leave her alone. Looking to the side of me as Imani creeped to the side “Oakley really has a following in America now doesn’t he” she said, nodding my head slowly “he does” I mumbled “why did you have to complain?” Imani asked, I mean if that was me I would be questioning the person too that complained “because he has a girlfriend and I don’t want you to get close and also Juke is naughty Imani, I have lived with him. I don’t want it, I want you to put your time and energy into Reuben, he was so sweet” Imani shook her head “it’s not the point, nothing was happening between us, we was just having fun. He is just a friend, but you are there, if that was you right there you wouldn’t ever let anyone tell you different. Don’t worry about me, please. Let me live, let me find things out for myself” I sighed out “you’re my little sister Imani, I worry. Men aren’t good, please. I just worry, I want your innocence to stay forever, I care” she swallowed hard “then let me learn, myself. Please” she pleaded with me, and I felt bad “and let them be on the bus, nothing is bad we are just having fun. I am serious” nodding my head “I will speak to Oakley” Imani nodded her head, dad would want me to do this, I don’t think Juke should be on the bus, but she wants to learn herself I guess.

My sister is very much into Damson, I love that “we are going on the bus” I said Ti “I will meet you there, Damson wants to take me out for some food” letting out an oh “and where is my meal?” I questioned “next time, I got you. When I am in London, don’t worry. I will make sure she is safely back with you guys, she will meet you in the next city” smiling at him “you better, call me if you need anything” hugging her “I will, I am literally eating and then leaving. He is going back to LA anyways” Damson walked off “Cench, bro” looking behind me to see he went “so it’s a meal yeah?” she nodded her head “nothing more, just some food and connect and that’s it. This is a slow burner; we want to keep it low anyways” seeing Juke “Juke!” I spat “go on with my sister, I will deal with Oakley” he just stared but then walked away “he is pissed with me but that is fine, so you catching a flight there? You might as well” no point getting anything else “yeah I will get a flight, but I am enjoying his company and that is what I need, but we are still speaking on things, just getting to know each other, I see him fitting in great” I grinned “you know dad is about to lose his mind, he is going to love him. Well take your time and have fun. This is on your both now, see you soon and message me if you need anything” hugging her “thank you and thank Oakley for me, I have been not nice to him but yet he did this for me” I cooed out “It’s fine, I don’t think he let’s things get to him besides me” we both laughed “see you” walking off, she wants to get to know him more and I support that, let me get on the bus and leave them to say the goodbyes.

These guys are being boring, I am not sure if they are doing it on purpose “where is everyone?” I questioned “just you two” Wadz chuckled “man, they out there trying to get their dick wet from those dancers Imani got” letting out an oh “really, they are bad so they on their bus” Rimz nodded their head “so why are both being good, Wadz have you got a girl?” I am so confused with him “nope, I heard I am not good enough” raising an eyebrow “who said that, you are good enough” that is so rude “that is why the Fenty sisters were preparing that thing to be me and be disappointed, Oakley told me” I gasped “no Wadz, I am sorry. You are a good guy, you deserve good” I feel bad “it’s fine, I am not good enough” he shrugged “I will go to sleep” oh these men about to be all offended by me “goodnight though” he really upset with me “Wadz, I am sorry” Oakley has to say it, shaking my head “hurt his feelings a little” Rimz smiled “yeah but I didn’t want that, it was never that. He is a very good man, I feel so bad” I cringed “he will be ok, Oakley said it and he was laughing and then Wadz got mad. But like yeah, don’t trip. I am sure he will be ok; I think his ego is hurt. Wadz hasn’t been on a date since his last girl hurt him, he tends to stay away now so yeah, don’t worry about it. I think Oakley pissed him off more than anything because of how he did it, then the boys clowned him” shaking my head “why would Oakley do that, that is so mean. Fuck” I am not happy “Lee, come” Oakley said “you have been summoned” rolling my eyes “yeah, he is walking around and using that deep voice a little too much recently, night” walking to the back, I am not going to drop it because why would you say that to him knowing that would hurt his feelings, I mean if I heard that I would be hurt, he isn’t ugly either.

“Stood there with your arms crossed?” he pointed out “you right, why would you tell Wadz that? He is upset” his smile grew “he is a big man, he will be ok” he waved it off “nah, he is out there sad, and I am not sleeping in bed with you, I am going into the bunk beds anyways, so what do you want?” I am mad with him “don’t be mad on behalf of people, and then you demand shit, I do it and then you are still not happy” I sighed out “I just think you being sexually frustrated is pushing this anger” he sniggered “you know if this was you, if this was you feeling like sex you would get it, I am not saying it but allow me yeah, I am a guy. It’s fine, I am sure it will happen soon. You mentioned that me feeling like this would push me to cheat and that is a very untrue statement to make” I shrugged “I am there, and girls are still pushing themselves on you” which I have seen it with my own eyes “because they see you as just my baby mother, that I am single, but it takes two to cheat. I am no interested, yes it’s funny to see the hype and women, but it’s whatever. You know what I want, and it’s you” he stared at me “I don’t want you to be angry, like this whole thing has been you mad at everything, you stormed off so many times, I hate it” he put his head down “you know when you want something” squinting my eyes “how will I know you won’t want to hear me again, that you won’t want to cover my face like you did before” I just said it and he chewed on his bottom lip staring “let’s speak on it then, say that then” he put his top away into the bag.

He was deadass about this chat, like I made that remark and now he’s making me sit down like this, we are sat across each other in the seating area, the boys are snoring so who cares “you made me a latte too” I said laughing “well yeah, I suppose” he sat down “you have been very off about a lot you know, I’ve sent your hormones over the edge” he grinned at me “yeah, what can I say” he sighed out “I just want to touch on the subject really, like what happened between us and what went down. Like I know you thinking bringing it up again, but you did, I get what happened that night, I totally understand that knowing that I did that would hurt you but I really want you to understand that I don’t hate you for it, it just hurt me. Rylee I know you mentally, physically and sexually, I know what you are like whether you believe me or not I have been with you since, let’s be realistic seventeen, and when I saw that I knew that wasn’t you, it just hurt me and when we had sex I’m sorry, but it bring it back to this again, that affected you and I do feel bad about it. I just wish it didn’t happen because at the end of the day you didn’t deserve that, you deserve to be loved and I know me, I am the least bit of it and I am trying to be that more for you. I just really don’t want you to bring it up again Lee. But I want to know really before we can close that chapter why you did?” He is serious, and he isn’t wrong at all he does know me very well “because I am scared you will do it to me again Oakley, if that happens again my heart can’t take it. I’m scared for us to have sex for that reason” his face softened “I can’t make you feel better, I can’t tell anything different, I did that because I was going through that emotion in that moment. I apologise but until you are comfortable and ok I get it, why you think I have been suffering bad, I haven’t done anything because I am waiting on you because I owe you that after what I did, I ain’t pressuring you but you need to trust me again, what happened to you isn’t easy and I made it worse because you love me so it hurts more” putting my head down, he’s going to make me cry “Lee, man. I do love you; I don’t know at times it’s hard to think I am capable of it but I just want to be in your presence a lot, but like shit isn’t deep. We are currently in the air just waiting around” I just ended up crying, the emotions were too much for me “don’t cry” Oakley said “what if we don’t make it” he sat next to me “then I guess like they say, I hope in the afterlife you’re there if we don’t” that alone made me cry more, he wrapped his arms around me.

Oakley smiled at me “why are you crying? Like don’t be upset” I sniffled “what if I don’t see you in the afterlife then what, that means we wasn’t meant to be” I sobbed out, Oakley laughed out “oh my god, stop it. You making up scenarios now” he is laughing but what if that happens “you’re upsetting me with this though, stop it. What is upsetting you the most” he asked, wiping my tears and he tried to help but I moved his hand away “because what if we don’t make it, what if we really not meant to be” he turned to me “because you bought that doubt on and I said what I said because I’m right, look” he sighed out “I never thought I would find a girl that I genuinely like or care for, or even love so this is all new to me, to care the way I do for you I know in my heart I do love you, and I do want it but I want that to be in your court, I don’t us to jump either. And if and when we do I want to start fresh, I don’t want to speak on Saint, I don’t care for it, shit I just want to settle, I’m at that age and yeah, but for me I want you to be happy to want that too because I know I hurt by what happened in the bedroom, and I think you know. Maybe we cling to each other but then again, when we are together I’m happy, it’s hard Lee and I just want us to be happy, I want what I thought I didn’t need because I didn’t see it with my own parents” I didn’t even realise we was holding hands “this is the most you have said in a while to me about things” I said “look, when you ready I’m here. Until you tell me no” shaking my head “I want you Oakley, you’re actually the only guy for me. I fell for you from the start, and you know that, it was hard to love someone that was closed down. I see you are trying but like don’t say that, like what you mean after life” Oakley laughed “ah man, you’re jarring I literally said it because you said that, but it’s cute. Don’t cry, it’s cool. You sleep in the bunks though, think about things, I don’t mind it” nodding my head, why did I have to cry.

Wiping my tears away as I silently just cried, I heard Oakley walk by the bunk, but he just went because I had my back towards the curtain, so he assumed I was asleep, I just hate that I did so much shit to mess us up. I wish I didn’t jump, why did I have to be this way, I sniffled. I know that he knows he hurt me with that, but I have done so much more, and I regret it, looking at my phone as it vibrated on my chest. My mother is calling me, she must have noticed I was online “hello” I answered, my nose is stuffy because I need to blow it “oh Rylee, what is wrong?” She asked, I sniffled “just thinking how much shit I have done, but how come you called?” I really need to blow my nose “Rylee, it’s never too late and it’s never that. Come on, you have done so well. We all make mistakes so stop crying” I shrugged “I just want to be with Oakley, in peace with Aziel. I know what I want but what if everything I have done never overcomes that, I feel like I’m doubting his feelings to start new, I can’t be with any other man mom I love him, I do. Ok I fucked up to realise that now, I did treat him badly” which I did “Rylee, you are thinking this too deeply, you need to let go and let love. You fucked up, you accounted for it, stop going over it, take all of it away Rylee and it’s nothing but love, you want it so get it, me and your dad didn’t let each other go ever and we made it. Rylee love isn’t easy, if love was easy and you got it easy then it wasn’t real, this is your test. You had to go through this, and you can overcome it, I am sure he loves you” I swallowed hard “mom I will call you back” I said to her as I put the phone down, moving the curtain back and getting out of the bunk, I can’t do this. I need to be in his arms, my mom is right really. I didn’t bother to knock I just walked in, and Oakley looked in shock taking his headphones off with his mouth half open “are you ok?” he asked, shaking my head feeling my eyes well up as I made my way over to him, climbing onto the bed, I just feel so emotional now.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Choosing Destiny

Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Fandom: Marvel/MCU

Summary: Pietro has never believed in fate or soulmates or destiny…well, until he meets you…

Note: I know it was recently confirmed in canon that Pietro and Wanda were 26 during Age of Ultron, but for my own purposes, I’m going to pretend they were only 23. WandaVision spoilers if you squint, but not really.

Warnings: Mentions of death (he doesn’t die tho)

Word Count: 3.5k

Reader is: Female

Pietro Maximoff didn’t believe in prophecy. He didn’t believe in soulmates, either, but that was another matter entirely. His entire life, he’d been making decisions. Important ones. And he wanted to believe that they mattered. That his choices determined his outcome. He didn’t want his hands to be tied when it came to matters like that, to his destiny or whatever.

And yet, at twenty years old, approximately three years before his life would change forever, the fair rolled into town. Wanda wanted to go. She always wanted to go. It helped take her mind off of everything. And besides, with the fair came the psychics that would set up their stands, charging a handful of coins for a reading on your future. Your destiny. Your soulmate.

Wanda was very into it, as he knew she would be, and so, reluctantly, he handed over the money and she sat down across from the psychic, who took Wanda’s hands, shivering slightly before she reached for her tarot cards and shuffled them. “I do see a soulmate in your future.” The psychic told her. “He’s tall. Heroic. I see a long cape billowing out behind him and there’s a…strong association with the color yellow. He’s very intelligent, wise. He’s quiet, but he has a lot to say. He will help you through difficult times.”

Wanda chatted with the psychic for a while longer before they finished her reading, and when she was done, she handed Wanda a small rose quartz stone, which she admired before tucking it into her pocket.

“Let’s go get something to eat.” Pietro nudged her onwards towards the food carts.

“Don’t you want a reading?” Wanda asked him.

He scoffed. “I don’t have a soulmate.”

“I beg to differ.” The psychic said softly, beckoning him closer. “Tell you what, this reading is on the house. Take a seat.”

Wanda pushed him closer to the chair and he rolled his eyes, but sat down anyway. His foot bounced up and down. He was antsy, always antsy. Impatient. And on top of it all, a skeptic.

The psychic reached for his hands and he gave them to her. As soon as she made contact with his skin, she gasped.

“Oh you have a soulmate alright. She’s incredibly powerful. I can feel her energy radiating just from your touch alone. You’re going to meet her soon. Not right away, but definitely in the next few years. I sense…some tension. Some resistance, but inevitably, things will work out.” She reached into a pouch hanging from the table and pulled out a butterfly charm. It was small and silver and made of metal and when she pressed it into his palm, it was cold to the touch. “You’ll know it’s her when you see a butterfly.”

Pietro was disbelieving, but he nodded, tucking the charm into his pocket.

“How about that, huh?” Wanda asked as they started walking away. “You have a soulmate after all.”

“We’ll see…” Pietro shook his head. “I still don’t buy it, though, for the record…”

“Sure.” Wanda smirked, unconvinced. She’d seen the look on her brother’s face she knew that look. And she knew that whether her brother liked it or not, he believed the slightest bit that there was someone out there made for him. She liked to believe it, too.

***

There were not many belongings Pietro had inside the walls of the Hydra facility he was transformed in. But one of them was the silver butterfly charm he had gotten at the fair that day. He always kept it with him, and he’d fought tooth and nail to be able to keep it when he’d gotten admitted.

When he was in his cell all alone, he’d take it out and look at it, study the intricate patterns on its wings, and then tuck it back into his pocket, his fingers fiddling with it.

He remembered the day when his transformation happened, although he didn’t like to think about it often. It stirred up weird emotions in the core of his being. Being…altered in a way like that. Changed into something he was never meant to be. Most of the moments from that day, his brain had tucked away, had hidden from him, but when he first stepped into the room with the stone, it had seemed to…come alive.

He watched with wide eyes as it released itself from the staff it had been held inside and floated in front of him. And in the glow of the stone, a figure manifested herself in front of him, a girl who was a bit shorter than him. She had giant butterfly-shaped wings spread out behind her and she landed in front of him, as real as he was. Vivid and beautiful. He stared at her for a long time, waiting for her to speak.

And she did.

“Pietro…” She’d spoken, her voice soft and sweet, but also…worried? He couldn’t tell. “I need you to be okay for me. Breathe, alright?”

“I…I don’t understand. What do you mean?” He asked, but she didn’t respond. It was like she was separated from him somehow, somewhere different in space and time although she was standing right there in front of him.

She reached forward and rested her hand against his cheek. “I’m here, now. Just breathe…”

And then everything went black.

When he came around, everything started…changing. For a few days, every step he took was at superspeed. He’d run into walls without really meaning to, rush forward feet at a time when he’d only meant to move a little. He was hungrier than he’d ever been in his life. He’d always loved food, but now, he felt like he was starving all the time when he was eating more than he ever had. His enhanced body burned through it like it was nothing. His hair started to turn blonde and then white, leaving the top half of his head a silvery bleached color that rivaled the snow. He barely recognized himself in the mirror anymore. Barely recognized this person he’d become.

The choice he’d made, the choice he and Wanda had made together, had sent him on a different path, had altered his destiny. And he wondered if he’d ever pay the price for it.

***

The day came, as he knew it would. His home town in Sokovia was being hoisted into the air, higher and higher every minute. The air was thin and he had trouble catching his breath. He was used to running, now. It was part of him, his speed. It was a gift. A blessing. A “miracle” as the scientists at Hydra had said. He couldn’t help but believe them.

He heard something approaching the border of the city, something big, and when he ran to the edge to see what it was, he was surprised, but pleasantly so, to see a Helicarrier rising, a S.H.I.E.L.D. logo emblazoned on it. He looked around and spotted Captain Rogers standing nearby with the Black Widow, so he ran over.

“This is S.H.I.E.L.D.?” He asked.

“This is what S.H.I.E.L.D. is supposed to be.” Rogers nodded, looking on proudly.

Pietro considered it for a moment before replying with a smile, “this is not so bad…”

It was then that he spotted her flying across the gap. The girl with the butterfly wings. And he couldn’t stop staring, his blue eyes fixed on her for a long moment. She said something, but he didn’t hear her, so distracted by her presence. He knew it had to be her, the girl from his vision.

“What?” He asked, blinking a few times. She giggled and the other two Avengers standing beside them chuckled knowingly.

“I said, I’m (Y/N).” You offered your hand and Pietro shook it, squeezing it slightly as he did so, and hesitant to let go once he was finished. “Fury reached out to me. Figured you could use all the help you could get.”

“We’d definitely accept an extra set of hands.” Rogers nodded. “What are your powers.”

“Flight, energy manipulation, enhanced strength…” You listed off. “There are kind of a lot. I can do whatever you need me to do. Be wherever you need me to be.”

“Priorities right now are evacuating civilians and killing robots.” Natasha said.

“That, I can do.” You nodded. “And you’re…?”

“Pietro.” He offered, smiling softly as he did, an unfamiliar warmth tingling in his stomach.

“Pietro.” You repeated, trying the name out. Your pronunciation was a little off, but he couldn’t help but grin at the attempt. “Alright. Well, let’s go kill some robots then, Pietro.” You let your wings flutter, and when you did, your feet lifted from the ground.

He smirked, getting a bit competitive as soon as you’d challenged him. “You’re on. Try to keep up.”

As the two of you rushed off into the city, Steve and Natasha watched with knowing looks, taking another little moment.

“Twenty bucks they’re together by Friday.” Nat said. “Maybe sooner.”

Steve shook her hand. “You’re on.”

***

The battle went smoothly until it didn’t, and as soon as Pietro took fire, you felt the hit in the center of your being. It shook you to your core, and once you’d shot the quinjet that had hit him out of the sky with a powerful stream of pink energy, you landed beside him, his body still and his breathing weak, holes mangling his limbs and torso.

“Pietro…” You whispered, tears stinging your eyes. You summoned your energy to your palms, but it was…different than it usually was. Rather than its typical pink color, the energy you summoned was yellow. It was warm. But you trusted your power and you held the energy over him.

His breaths were shallow, strained. You watched as, very, very slowly, your energy pieced him back together, the holes in his body closing up, repairing as if by magic, as if he’d never been shot in the first place.

He struggled to try to say something, but you just cupped his cheek and shook your head. “I need you to be okay for me. Breathe, alright?”

“But—”

“I’m here, now. Just breathe…” You told him, still pushing energy into his chest, but more slowly, gradually. You felt his pulse and waited as his heartbeat returned to normal, his breathing forced, but becoming more natural as you knelt beside him. “Take a minute. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

He nodded, struggling to sit up, his arms and legs shaking really badly. At some point, you felt like your power hit a wall. There wasn’t anything more you could do for him. He was healed.

“Do you feel okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He nodded, staring at his hands for a long moment, looking at his fingers and moving them. “I’m…thanks to you, I am.”

“I think we’re gonna have to get out of here pretty soon. Can you stand?”

“I’ll try.” He decided.

You stood up first and offered your hands to him, pulling him upright with unexpected strength.

He’d definitely pulled something in his leg, and that became obvious as soon as he took a few steps.

“Do you want me to try to—" You started to ask, raising your hand, but he grabbed onto it, lowering it.

He shook his head. “You’ve done enough for me today. Thank you.”

You pulled his arm around your shoulders and supported his weight while he limped.

Captain Rogers walked over and looked at the two of you, paying special attention to Pietro.

“You alright, kid?”

“I am now.” He answered, nodding.

“Get back to the Helicarrier. Both of you. This’ll all be over soon.”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded. The two of you walked most of the way back to the Helicarrier in silence, Pietro sneaking unbelieving looks at you every so often.

Meanwhile, Rogers walked up to Clint. “Did you see what happened?”

Clint nodded. “He almost died. But she…she just…healed him. Like magic…”

Steve considered it for a moment, nodding. He looked back and watched as you helped Pietro onto one of the boats, the two of you sitting together. And he decided in that moment that you might not make a bad addition to the team…

***

As soon as Wanda made it back to the Helicarrier, in the arms of the Vision, no less, she ran towards you and Pietro, disbelief on her face when she saw him. Mascara and eyeliner were smudged around her eyes from crying and she looked paler than he’d ever seen her before.

“Wanda,” He walked towards her, taking a painful step forward.

“You idiot!” She wailed, throwing herself into his arms. “I…I thought you were dead! I…I felt…”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He apologized, his voice soft. “She healed me. She…saved my life.”

“Who did?” Wanda asked and Pietro motioned to where you were sitting.

You stood up and prepared to introduce yourself, holding out your hand, but she engulfed you in her arms instead, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She cried into your shoulder. You held her a little tighter in an attempt to comfort her. “I don’t know what I would have done if…”

“Don’t worry about it.” You told her quietly. “He’s safe. You both are.”

Wanda nodded and pulled away from you, looking up at her brother with teary eyes. He smiled down at her. And then his eyes settled on you and he pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly.

Pietro Maximoff, at one time in his life, hadn’t believed in fate. But now, without a shadow of a doubt, he did.

***

“You want me to be a what?” You asked. You were sitting in the conference room that the Avengers, including their newest additions, had all crammed into in the remains of the Avengers Tower. They were scheduled to move soon, but before they relocated, Captain Rogers had gotten ahold of you through Nick Fury and called you there to “discuss an arrangement.”

“We want you to be an Avenger.” Clint Barton, the one you’d previously only known as ‘Hawkeye’ explained. “I saw you. You saved the kid’s life. We…we need that kind of power. All the help we can get.”

You looked at Pietro and his eyes were locked on yours, a serious look on his face.

“Look, I’m flattered. I am.” You forced yourself to focus away from the handsome speedster and on Stark instead. “But I’m just…I’m a college kid. I’m graduating in like a month. I have finals and…and I…I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”

“You are. Cut out for it, I mean.” Natasha insisted. “We’re not going to force you, but…you’d be a great addition to the team.”

“Can I think about it?” You asked. “I just need to get through college. Get my degree, and then…then I can…maybe look into this hero stuff.”

“Take all the time you need. We’ll be here if and when you come around.” Captain Rogers said.

“Cool.” You nodded. “Thank you.”

You left the conference room and you thought you were alone, but as soon as you walked through them, someone else did too.

“Promise me you’ll think about it?” Your ears picked up the all-too familiar accent of one Mr. Pietro Maximoff.

You looked up at him and you hated it, but your heart raced just looking at him, a blush creeping across your cheeks. You couldn’t deny he was handsome. Incredibly so, in fact, but you couldn’t just give up four years of work for a man at the drop of a hat.

“Why do you want me here so bad?” You countered, raising an eyebrow.

He took a few steps closer to you, framing your cheek with his large, warm hand. “Do you believe in fate?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Kind of. Why?”

“I didn’t. I didn’t until I met you.” Pietro said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver butterfly charm, hanging from a thin silver chain. “A long time ago, a psychic told me I would know my soulmate when I saw a butterfly. And…the moment I saw your wings, I knew…”

He was quiet, shaking his head as he reached for your hand, setting the necklace in your palm. “You saved my life. The least I can do is returning the favor at some point.”

“Okay.” You said, closing your hand around the charm. “I’ll think about it. I promise.”

***

You went back to school. It was hard, but you focused on your studies and before you knew it, finals week rolled around. Your wings, for the most part, weren’t active. They only came out when you needed them, and therefore, you were able to blend in pretty seamlessly. No one looked at you differently, although, watching news coverage from the Battle of Sokovia, you’d hear your peers whisper rumors about the mysterious Butterfly Girl who had appeared and disappeared right after.

Tony Stark had been approached for a statement on who she was and where she’d come from and if she was a new member of the team, but he hadn’t commented, which you were grateful for.

Aside from that, everything was…well, as normal as it can be when you’re a superhuman, you supposed.

Your brain fried, your eyes burning, you looked up from your textbook only to spot Pietro standing in the doorway of the building. You stared at him for a long time, unsure if he was a hallucination or your eyes playing tricks on you after so many hours staring at your textbooks.

He jogged over as soon as he spotted you, a mischievous look on his face. It was weird, seeing him force himself to move at a normal pace. At a speed which had once been normal to him, but was now much, much slower than he was capable of moving.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him, taking your headphones off and setting them on the table, looking up at him.

“I knew you must be getting close to the end of your semester. I…well, I wanted to know if you had made your decision yet. I’m…impatient.” He admitted, causing you to giggle softly. “And I figured…maybe buying you a coffee could help you make your decision a little faster?”

“It certainly couldn’t hurt.” You laughed.

“Alright, perfect.” He grinned. “What do you want? I’ll go get it right now.”

You told him your usual order and he walked to the coffee shop tucked into the on-campus library, retrieving two drinks and bringing them back a few minutes later. You cleared out some of your stuff so he could sit across from you, and so, when you motioned him to the chair, he did.

“What are you studying?”

“Psychology.” You replied, wiping the sleep from your eyes. “God, what time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“Great.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “I’m not nearly done studying.” You raised your drink to your lips. “Thank you for the coffee, by the way.”

“Of course.” He grinned, resting one hand against his fist and reaching for your hand with the other, which you gave to him, allowing him to fiddle with your smaller fingers. He was a fiddler, you’d noticed. Always had to be moving, even if it was only a little bit. “So…?”

“So what?” You asked, amused at his antics.

“Are you going to come to the compound when you’re done?”

You were quiet for a long time, before you nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I…I think I am.”

Immediately, a smile overtook his handsome features and he gave your hand an excited squeeze. He leaned over the table and captured your lips in a sweet kiss, leaving you stunned for a few seconds afterwards, staring at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized immediately. “I don’t know why I—”

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in, pressing your lips onto his again, in a kiss you’d been wanting to give him for over a month. He kissed back passionately, his lips soft and desperate, his scruff tickling you gently.

As soon as you pulled apart, he switched sides of the table, sitting next to you and cupping his hands around your cheeks. He pressed a long kiss to your forehead and then another quick one to your lips, causing your heart to race and the butterflies in your stomach to dance around. And in that moment, you knew that whatever you believed about soulmates and fate and destiny…it all went out the window.

You knew whatever you did from here on out, whatever choices you made or paths you took, it would always lead you straight to Pietro Maximoff. And you couldn’t have been happier about that…

[ashintheairlikesnow]

You Have to Let Go

For @whumptober2021​′s Day One prompt, “You Have to Let Go” / Betrayal

CW: Forced vampirism, blood drinking, vampire whumpee, whumpee takes revenge, referenced drug addiction

1908, somewhere outside of New York City

“You can’t keep this up forever.” William, one of the oldest members of the pack at just over a century, lays on his back on a chaise, his head hanging off, looking upside-down at the newest vampire in the pack.

Blood does not pool in his head or redden his cheeks, although he’s been like that for an hour or more. He stays pale, his hair and skin and even his eyes all nearly the same shade. It gives him the appearance of a ghost, although he’s solid enough.

Cold, and solid.

More marble statue than man, now. And yet still more man than animal, though that depends a little on the viewer’s perspective.

“Watch, watch me try,” Tristan hisses back at him from where he sits, curled up in the corner of the room, arms around his bent legs. He stares at a mostly-healed scar on his left knee, from a time he tripped and fell in the dark of the basement downstairs. It’ll be there forever now, he’s told, a reminder for eternity of the wounds he wore when he died. 

He pushes on it. There’s no pain.

Of course there isn’t. Pain is your body trying to warn you not to die, and he’s already dead. What is there to warn him of now? All the worst things have already happened. 

There’s a soft cry from an adjacent room, woozy and almost sultry. An answering murmur in Malorie’s low voice. There’s a flirty laugh, and then the next sound is less cry than moan. He’d blush if he still could. Instead, he ignores the sound. Someone paying money for the oblivion the venom offers them, or paying in skin and blood. 

Vampires aren’t picky, and blood renews much faster than coins, anyway.

“We gave you a gift. Wrapped it all up in a bow for you, didn’t we? ” William has an odd accent, like he’s a mix of Brit and something else that Tristan doesn’t recognize. There’s a mocking lilt to his tone that Tristan knows from his own childhood, the landowner’s children teasing him for his oddities and for the way they felt all the families working their land were more or less the same. Tris hadn’t been the favorite of the other farmers’ kids - there’d been whispers behind hands about all the bits of him that weren’t like other children - but they’d banded together against the landowner’s children still. He remembered with fuzzy affection the others picking up rocks more than once to throw in his defense.

There were still parts of home where there were rumors of changeling children, and his mother had angrily shouted down an accusation more than once, when he was young and caught lining up river rocks in perfect circles. But for all that there might be whispers from the old, the other village children had always stuck together when someone from outside came mocking.

He’d been so happy to get away from the town, going on the ship with his parents to America. Tears threaten at the memory of his mother holding him at the edge of the ship, the salt-spray in his face as they set off and away from home and toward what she promised would be a grand new one. 

Her sister had gone ahead first, years before, and had written glowing letters about America as a land of chances that Ireland didn’t offer. 

He wondered, bitterly, if his aunt had already been hooked on the venom by then. If she’d been writing those letters from vampire dens, with a pair of fangs buried in her other arm while she signed Your loving sister, Joanne.

Had she known she would try to sell him before she ever saw his face? Had she sold his parents’ lives, too, somehow?

He wishes, fierce and strong, that they had never left Ireland at all. That his mother had known not to trust Joanne as far as she could throw her. Too late, though. Too late.

Joanne the only one left standing, now. The rest of them are dead.

Even Tristan, who can be dead and still be separated from his parents by the gulf of their different kinds of death, who stares into damnation even if he were fully destroyed now. He remembers trying to confess his sins to a priest who chased him from the church with screams of demon, demon, begone. His soul has been handed over to evil, and all he’d ever done was try to be good. 

Tristan wipes the pink tears from his cheeks before William can see them. “I, I, I didn’t want your, your gift.”

“Does that matter now?” William flips over onto his stomach and drops to the floor into a crouch, smiling. His fangs glimmer in the dimness, as the night stretches on and on towards dawn. Already the horizon is going lighter around the edges, a soft dove gray that will lead soon to pink and blue. Already, Tristan can feel an unnatural exhaustion weighing down his bones, the need to sleep while the sun is up.

“To, to me it does.” Tristan leans his head slowly against the wall, closing his eyes. The pulse of thirst is stronger than his heartbeat ever was. 

“You’re not human any longer,” William says, and there’s a gentleness to his voice that Tristan is surprised by, turning to look at him. “You have to let go of all that. You’re not it any longer, and won’t be again. But isn’t this better?”

Tristan blinks once, twice. “No,” He whispers but fiercely. “I’ve, I’ve, been, um, I’ve been made a murderer, against my will. What of that is, is better?”

“All men kill, one way or another.” William shrugs, casual and unbothered. “We are only more honest about it and our reasons. But here, look, I’ve had one more thing done.”

He claps his hands. Tristan flinches at the sound, but the soft murmurings of the pack from other rooms goes silent. Then they drift into the parlor, one by one. Malorie is still wiping her latest partner’s blood from around the corners of her mouth, smiling. 

There are seven in the pack, not counting Tristan himself. He tries not to count himself.

When he looks now he frowns, seeing only five. “William?”

“We’ve one more gift for you,” William says, and gestures to the open double-sized doorway. 

Tristan stares as the last two members of the pack appear, with his aunt held between them, bound until she has to be dragged and cannot walk on her own.

Joanne’s eyes are wild, rimmed in bright white. She is gagged, cloth tied over her mouth until it bites viciously into the corners of her mouth. She sees him and begins to struggle anew, shouting as best she can. Nonsense sounds, muffled, pointless shouting. 

He can’t tell if she is begging for her life or cursing him.

He wishes he could believe it’s the former.

“What, what, what what what is this?” His words are barely a whisper, as he unfolds himself, pushing up onto his feet. His gums begin to itch around where his fangs have grown, the venom ready. 

“She’s behind in her payments again,” Alyssa says, laying her head on Joanne’s shoulder, her long brown hair falling half over her face. “In too deep. Chases the fang and doesn’t pay her rent, doesn’t pay us either.”

Tristan stands perfectly still, feeling nearly frozen. His aunt’s terror and panic are something he can smell, now, the sharp tang of adrenaline. It sours the blood, but there are vampires who prefer it that way. Who say the sour taste of pain and fear is a higher form of flavor.

William steps up to his side, running a hand down Tristan’s arm. He flinches away from the touch, but he knows better than to move away from the pack leader more than that. His chin tucks down in unconscious submission to William’s will. “You, you, you you you want me, to, to… kill her?”

“You miss your family,” William says, softly. “It ties you to your old life.” He smiles, something Tristan can see from the corner of his eyes, and leans his head slowly against Tristan’s, mingling white and red hair together. “She’s the reason they’re lost to you, right?”

“Yes,” He whispers in reply, turning slightly into the touch. William’s cool hands comes to cup his face, and he presses a soft kiss, light as air, against Tristan’s cheek, the corner of his mouth, finally presses their lips together.

It’s all sensation without temperature, and Tristan hums, opening his mouth for it, letting William take what he wants. His packleader’s tongue finds his fangs, presses against the venom glands just above and behind them. 

A tingle of venom falls onto Tristan’s tongue.

William hums. “Good boy,” He whispers, making Tristan shudder, half-disgusted and half-grateful for the praise. 

Joanne’s struggles kick up into a frenzy, but they do her no good. She’s bound so tightly that her wrists are rubbing raw to bleeding, and he can smell it. Saliva gathers in his mouth, his venom pulsing, sizzling on his tongue like a hot pepper eaten raw. He finds himself shaking, hands clinging now to William’s arms just to stay standing.

Joanne welcomed them when they got off the boat. But she’d snubbed Tristan’s father, had never liked him. She’d helped them find work, and all along she’d gone places at odd hours of the day and night. 

All she’d said to him after his parents died and he moved in with her was that his mother was never meant to die. She’d been meant to be out of the apartment, but had decided not to go on the errand to the woman who took in piecework, and Joanne had told him, I didn’t know she’d be home, or I’d have changed the day, wouldn’t I?

Then she said he should stop mewling in his grief, and slapped him full in the face for it. 

His lips pull back from his teeth, although he isn’t quite aware of it. Only of the taste of blood in the air on his tongue. 

“Have your revenge,” William whispers, the devil tempting a boy who has never been a saint. Tristan wonders if his mother will hate him, in her eternal rest, that he isn’t strong enough to resist this chance. 

He tips his head back and lets William mouth along the line of his neck.

“Let death come upon them, and let them go down alive into hell.” The verses come easily, without stammering. He was always better at reciting what he’d been taught to memorize, the words his mother read and reread to him, than at speaking for himself. “For there is wickedness in their dwellings, in, in the midst of them. But I have cried to God: and the Lord will save me.” His lips twist, and the tears burn so hot it feels like they are boiling over his eyes and down his cold skin. “But, but, but I cried, Aunt Jo, and-... and and and no one saved, um, saved me.”

He turns away from William and meets his aunt’s eyes.

She stares back at him, still struggling, still fighting. The blood from her torn-open arms runs down her hands behind her back, dripping to the floor. He can hear each droplet hit one by one. He can smell the fear in her, and he can smell what she’s spent her day doing. That she slept late, and ate at a place down the block from their tenement where the old woman sells sandwiches, the big blocks of meat carved to order. 

He can smell that she never thought of him at all, as she prepared to come here, to the den, for venom she can pour into a cocktail. He can smell even the way she was surprised when they told her there would be no more credit for her, she must pay now or perish.

She can’t pay. There is nothing left. She’s long since spent every bit of scratch that she gained from the deaths of her sister and brother-by-marriage, the extra cash that came from selling her nephew into… this.

He’s been moving across the floor and barely noticed. He’s only a foot or so away from her now, and the smell of her sweat is as strong as her blood. His pack members can see the fight in him fading, he’s sure, because their eyes are overbright and glittering with excitement. 

He holds her gaze.

It’s easier, since he died, to look people in the eyes. He’s not sure why.

“You,” He says, in a low voice that no longer trembles. “You made it so, so, so so I won’t ever be seeing them again. As a cloud is consumed, and passeth away: so he that shall go down to hell shall not come up. If, if you had, if I had died with them, if I…”

His throat feels like it’s closing, his voice dries up. 

“But, but, but, but you made me be damned,” Tristan manages, finally, his voice thready and barely-there. “Even if… even if I, if someone, if I am… I’ll still never, um, never see them again. We are, are, are, are both damned, now.”

William, just behind him, a cool presence the same temperature as the air around them, hums, interested. His hands rub up and down Tristan’s arms. “Will you kill her, Tristan? Have your vengeance? We’ll clean what’s left up for you.”

“No.”

Everyone inhales, although they don’t need to, in surprise.

Tristan stares one last time into his aunt’s frightened eyes. “I, I, I won’t, won’t kill her. But, um, but but but… but… I want… want you, your gift to be something else, William.”

“Name it, little brother.”

I’m not your brother.

He doesn’t bother with the protest. Not anymore.

“Turn her,” He says, softly. “And then, um, then then then wall her up in, in the cellar, and and and leave her, to, to starve.”

“A new vampire who doesn’t feed faces the true death anyway, in a month or two,” Malorie points out. When Joanne turns her head away, Malorie grabs her by the hair, forcing her to look back at Tristan with a cry of pain. 

“I don’t care. I, I, I just want her to, um, to suffer.”

He walks away, moving around the little group, and out into the growing new light of the early dawn. His bones already feel weighed down by the promise of sunlight. 

There is a workshop, a rickety wooden shed, in the yard. Tristan moves into it, closing the door to give himself a nearly-total darkness, and burrows down into the dirt, curling into a ball, closing his eyes. His hand grasps, instinctively, at a rosary he can no longer wear. Finding nothing, he finally goes still.

He hears one long wailing scream from his aunt from within the house, and then no more sound at all. 

He wonders how long it will take her to have her first death.

He wonders how long it will take for her to feel her second death, the true death, as she is starved of the blood her body needs to fully become the monster she had Tristan himself made into.

His mother would care.

Tristan doesn’t.

He falls asleep as the sun comes up, at the same time his aunt’s body shuts down bit by bit. Her heartbeat is the last thing to still.

Tristan’s heart stopped beating nearly four years ago.

-

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @pretty-face-breaker @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal (17/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 3,346

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, violence, creepy men

masterlist

a/n: HEYYYYY HAPPY TWO YEAR BLOG BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!

Bucky’s heart was pounding as he finally shook the last of the Hydra goons that had been chasing him, glancing every which way just to double check.

He didn’t feel good about this.

It hadn’t even been ten minutes since the two of you had gotten separated, and he hated it. Granted, he always hated being away from you, had since you were fifteen.

Back then it was because he didn’t trust the Red Room instructors. Now it was because he was in love with you and being away from you made him feel like a part of his heart was missing.

Speed walking towards the entrance of Coney Island, he dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed Pepper’s number.

“Oh, my god, thank god. What the hell is wrong with you?” Pepper demanded angrily of him. “Do neither of you know how to answer your phones? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears. “We had to separate so I could try to lead the bad guys away, but they just… disappeared. I’m heading for our meeting spot now.”

Morgan and a few other kids were babbling in the background about how their day had gotten cut short, but he knew that the littlest Stark would understand better than anyone else once they explained to her.

Pepper was suspiciously quiet for… a long time. A long, long time.

“Pepper?” Bucky whispered, his voice cracking.

There was an unspoken question between them.

What if he’d fucked up?

Should he have stayed with her?

What if they’d gotten to her?

And one that was looming over his head, heavier than ever.

What if he never got to tell you how he felt?

“I’m here,” she said reassuringly.

“What if…” Bucky’s heart cracked inside of his chest. His throat was closing up with each passing second, his flesh palm sweaty. Keeping his grip on his cell phone was becoming a challenge. “What if I n-never g-get to tell her h-how I feel?”

“Don’t think like that.”

“God, I’m so fucking stupid,” he cursed as he made his way to the aquarium. His eyes flickered around the crowd, almost hoping he’d see the two women from earlier. They would’ve recognized you and might’ve seen you.

But there was no sign of them.

“Those fucking special skills or whatever would really come in fucking handy right now,” he cursed. With the way people were parting like the Red Sea in front of him, he knew he probably had his less-than-friendly expression on.

His Murder Face, as you called it.

Or his Resting Bitch Face, according to Sam.

Bucky ran his vibranium hand over his face as he tried not to panic. For one, he hadn’t even gotten to the meeting spot yet. Most likely, you were there waiting for him and he was worrying over nothing. “Tony and Natasha will haunt me forever if I let something happen to her.”

A sigh resounded over the phone. “You didn’t let something happen to her, Bucky. Hell, we don’t even know if something is wrong with her yet. But they both know that you have… you have literally devoted your entire being to taking care of her, protecting her. You did what you thought was the best option in the moment. And maybe… Maybe there was no getting out of that ambush without something happening to one of you.”

Rounding the corner to the tunnel, his heart stopped inside his chest.

You weren’t there.

“Bucky? Bucky? What’s going on? You there? What’s happening?”

It was like the world around him had gone fuzzy, and all he could hear was a ringing in his ears.

You weren’t there.

You weren’t there, and it was all his fault.

He told you to go to the tunnel.

How fucking stupid was he? The tunnel was possibly the worst place he could’ve told you to go to. It’s closed off, a literal tube with water all around you except two very small exits that were easily blocked.

What had he done?

Slumber had come easy for you for once. You were so exhausted, even your bones weary, from dancing all day. And by all day, that meant for over twelve hours because of your sadistic new instructor.

The last one had been… disposed of.

You’d woken at sunrise as usual and gone straight to ballet, only for the instructor to not let you go after the normal three hour class.

The rest of the girls filed out of the dance studio, some glancing back at you in curiosity.

There was no worry in their eyes. It was every girl for themselves these days.

If you thought real hard, you could remember a time when you all looked out for each other. You would braid each other’s hair, give a warning if any of the instructors or Madame B were near. If someone didn’t wake up when they were supposed to, the girls would shake her awake and help her get ready on time.

But that time was no more.

Those that ran the infamous Red Room didn’t like when their… students banded together. Things were better for them when you all hated each other and sought ways to sabotage the others.

It made you more likely to kill during a sparring session, and they only wanted girls who were willing to go all the way.

“Is there something you needed from me, madam?” You asked, your hands folded behind your back, spine straight, your chin high.

Good posture had been beaten into you within a week of arrival.

You didn’t forget a lesson like that anytime soon.

The instructor was new to you girls, though you had been told she wasn’t new to the Red Room. She’d been one of you, once upon a time.

One of the few who had survived to graduation, and then lived long enough after to be brought back as an instructor.

“I’m told you’re a prodigy,” she drawled as she slowly walked towards you, her platinum blonde hair pulled into a tight ballerina bun much like your own. While all of you girls wore black leotards, hers was a pale lilac, a shimmering rehearsal skirt tied around her waist that swished around her thighs. “That you are Madame B’s new pride and joy… Though, just based on your dancing, there is absolutely nothing to be prideful of. It is a surprise to me that you haven’t been… taken care of.”

The implication was clear.

Just based on that morning’s class, she thought you were bad enough at ballet to be killed.

Was it possible she just wanted you executed now? Was she about to do so?

Even though Madame B would be pissed, there were more girls that they could train. She’d only be upset for so long before she’d have a new prodigy, a new pride and joy.

Before the Soldat would have a new trainee.

Before your Soldat would have a new trainee. All the other Soldats could have all the trainees they wanted, but your Soldat, your Seven… The thought of him training another girl made bile rise up in your throat.

“Do you have pointers for things I could work on, madame?” You asked, shoulders tensing as she circled you. Like a vulture ready to scavenge a dying animal.

“I simply thought I could lend you some extra practice time,” she said, a sickly sweet smile spreading over her lips as she looked you up and down. “And don’t worry about Madame B and your other instructors. I already let them know that I wanted extra time with you today.”

The way she was speaking was setting off alarms in your mind.

“Perfect,” you said clearly, not letting your fear show. The instructors could smell fear and would use it against you until your heart stopped beating.

“Do you know the role of Aurora in the Sleeping Beauty ballet?” She asked, eyes cold. When you nodded, she chuckled. “Good. You’ll be dancing it on pointe, start to finish. Now.”

You were shocked when she then turned and started the music, but you did as she said.

Now, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty is his longest ballet ever, at almost four hours long.

And you danced all of it.

“Below average,” the instructor said, glaring daggers at you. “Again.”

You needed water desperately, your lungs fighting for air as you pretended to be unbothered by having done that by taking slow, even breaths.

But you had to do it again.

And again.

Every time you finished, she gave some comment about how your dancing was shit, how you’d never be good enough.

At this point, you wished she would simply kill you and get it over with. You were exhausted and your muscles felt like they were going to give out at any moment.

“MALEN’KAYA!”

You fell out of your pirouette in your shock, gasping as your ankle twisted and you fell to the ground. “Fuck!”

Your Soldat stormed into the dance studio as you looked up, eyes wide.

When had he gotten back? He’d been on a mission for the past few days, and fuck, you’d missed him something fierce.

“Soldat,” the instructor breathed out as she stopped moving, staring up at him with blue eyes. “Remember me?”

“Yes,” he said, glaring at her like she was a pile of dog shit he’d stepped in.

She moved towards him, her hand coming to rest on his chest. “I was hoping to see—” She was cut off as he raised his hands to hold her face. The harsh woman looked so… soft for him. “I missed you. Did you miss me?”

“No,” he snarled, his voice dropping almost an octave. “You should’ve thought twice before touching my malen’kaya.”

The light that had been in her eyes when she first saw him quickly disappeared as she realized she was totally, and utterly, fucked.

Your heart caught in your throat as he so easily twisted her head, a loud snap ringing through the air. He let her limp, lifeless body fall to the ground with a thump before turning and rushing to you. The darkness that had been in his face was long gone as he pulled you close, his hands running over you to try to find sources of injuries.

It took you a moment to realize he was speaking, your ears ringing as you stared at the dead woman on the ground.

“—you okay? What the hell happened? Who allowed this?” He asked, talking a mile a minute as he checked over you. Once he finally got to your pointe shoes, he took in a shaky breath. “I have to check,” he said as he reached for the pink ribbons tied around your ankles.

In the two years since you’d known him, you’d never seen his hands shake like they were.

Your eyes locked in on his face, his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed, as he tentatively untied one of your pointe shoes. He slowly slipped it off, his breath catching in his throat as he looked at your foot. It was only when the second one came off that you finally looked at the damage.

Well… You were sure your feet could have looked much worse after dancing for over twelve hours, but… It still wasn’t pretty.

“I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad,” you lied, trying to soothe him.

He was usually much more composed than this, his face harder.

Even when he was feeling a bit nicer, a bit softer, it was nothing like this.

The Soldat shook his head, looking absolutely pissed. “You don’t have to lie. Never lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” you insisted. “But that might be because right now, they’re numb, so I can’t feel anything at all from about my ankles down. But that does mean I didn’t lie.”

You were attempting to joke with him, lighten up the mood a bit. However, he definitely didn’t seem to be taking the bait.

When you glanced over at the windows, for some reason you were surprised to see how late it was. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he drawled as he scooped you up, leaving your pointe shoes behind as he carried you to the locker room. The man was somehow almost completely silent as he set you on a bench and grabbed a first aid kit out of what seemed to be thin air, before gently cleaning away the blood.

Water was dripping somewhere in the locker room, the droplets hitting the tiled floor with soft clinks.

“You were gone,” you whispered, eyes trained on his face. He was still so handsome, even with the frown lines that were starting to appear. Not that you could blame him, everything he’d been through would more than warrant a few wrinkles. “You were gone so long…”

The Soldat’s eyes were soft, despite being the color of the ice that coated the windows. “I know… I can’t stand being away from you, but if I didn’t go… They’d find some way to punish me.” His rough flesh hand cupped your cheek. “And I think they’re starting to catch on that the best way to punish me would be through you, malen’kaya.”

For a second, you thought he was gonna kiss you. From the way his eyes flicked down to your lips and back up again, you could’ve sworn on your life.

But then he took in a deep breath.

And his hand left your cheek.

You tried to push down the disappointment that welled up in your throat, biting your lip.

“Come on, malen’kaya,” he said as he finished wrapping up your poor feet. “Let’s get you to bed.”

The other girls were already sleeping when he carried you into your room, each one of them with a single wrist handcuffed to the bed frame.

“Hate knowing that you’re locked here all night,” Soldat said, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he approached the only empty bed in the room. “It’s like… putting a lark in a cage. I don’t like it.”

“I know,” you said. “But… It’s just how it is.” You looked up at him with bright eyes as he laid you down and tucked the blanket in around you, making sure you were nice and cozy before he took your left wrist and cuffed it to the metal frame.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured, brushing his metal fingers along your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Oh, God…

Everything hurt…

Why did everything hurt?

It was like your head had been shoved under water, but your eyes were too heavy to open.

“—gotta take the video and send it.”

“How do we know he’ll come?”

“Oh, he’ll come. He’ll always come for her.”

Who was that? The voices sounded vaguely familiar, but not quite.

“His precious malen’kaya.”

You slipped back into unconsciousness even as you fought the darkness coming over you, slumping down again.

The clock ticked obnoxiously loud as you sat in the diner booth, your knee pulled up to your chest. A cold cup of half-drank coffee was sitting on the table in front of you.

You’d been waiting over an hour for him to show.

The lunch rush had come and gone, and the waitresses—in their rockabilly uniforms and roller skates—were shooting you pitying looks.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” you huffed as you got to your feet and slammed a crisp twenty dollar bill on the vinyl table top. “He asks me on a fucking date and then doesn’t fucking show. How fucking typical.”

It had only been two days since the mission where he’d asked you out on a date. Your ankle was wrapped, and you were under strict orders to rest.

So, of course, you’d dragged yourself out to this diner that he insisted on taking you to.

Well, meeting you at since you really, really didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of riding in the same car.

If you were being honest, it hurt. A lot. You’d gotten your hopes up over the past two days, tossing and turning at night as you dreamed of what would happen on your date. Would it go anywhere? Would he end up being the love of your life?

You hadn’t had a crush on anyone since…

Well… Since your Soldat.

You missed him so fucking much.

And he wouldn’t have stood you up.

“Fuck Steve Rogers.”

Your face was flushed as you headed home, storming through the streets of Manhattan to the Avengers Tower. You needed time to stew, and the subway would be too fast.

“I should’ve just stayed home and taken that fucking bubble bath,” you huffed as you got in the elevator and rode up to the residential floors. Even if it had been meant to be a casual first date, you’d done your hair and stressed over your makeup, wearing your nicest pair of leggings and sneakers that didn’t have mud on the bottoms.

And even if the plan had been for it to be casual, you’d been looking forward to flowers and a kiss on the cheek, stealing a fry from his plate and maybe playing footsie under the table.

Just a little.

Like other girls got to do.

The elevator music was getting into your head, and there was no doubt it’d be haunting your dreams. But when the doors opened onto the common area floor, you were just about ready to burst into tears.

Because Steven Grant Rogers was sitting at the kitchen island and eating a sandwich as he laughed at some joke Rhodey made.

You couldn’t believe him. Was this his plan all along?

Steeling yourself, you straightened your spine and walked with purpose, planning on walking right by without even acknowledging him.

But of course, that wouldn’t be your luck.

As soon as Steve caught sight of you, he froze, his blue eyes going wide. Breathing out your name, he quickly scrambled to his feet. “Wait! Wait! Please! I’m so fucking sorry, I completely forgot!”

“It’s fucking fine, Rogers. It’s clearly a sign that this is was a bad idea in the first place,” you said, your voice cold enough to freeze him again.

“What?! No! Please, I’m just…” He groaned as he followed you onto the elevator that would take you up to the other residential floors. “I just had three meetings before noon and completely forgot! That doesn’t mean I don’t want this date with you!”

Taking a breath, you turned on him, glaring at him like he was a piece of dog shit on your shoe. “You know what the cherry on top of this is?” You asked with a laugh. “My first fucking date of my entire fucking life, and I get stood up. Fuck you, Rogers. Fuck. You.”

You’d successfully shocked him, and left him looking like a guppy, his mouth hanging open as he watched you leave him standing there.

When you came to again, you actually found the strength to open your eyes.

The room around you was like every stereotypical hostage room you’d ever seen in real life, and in movies.

Almost like the one Olivia Pope had been in on Scandal.

Though, you had a feeling that this one was real and wasn’t just a fancy set in a warehouse.

“Where am I?” You asked yourself, trying to take stock of everything. “Okay. Head hurts. Expected that. Don’t feel any sharp pains… so he probably shot me with a tranquilizer and not a bullet… Which is probably better for my chances of escape.” It was so fucking cold, your entire body was trembling. “No phone, so no way for the others to track me. Same clothing I was in… so at least there’s that.”

Your voice died as you heard movement beyond the black steel door in front of you, watching as it slowly opened. Your heart sank as you realized who was standing in front of you.

“It’s been too long, malen’kaya.”

[impalementation]

spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 4

part 1: “When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

part 3: “Something effulgent”: Season five and the construction of Spike the romantic

* 

“But I can’t fool myself. Or Spike, for some reason.”: Buffy and Spike as a blended self

Before I get into seasons six and seven, it’s worth asking: why would the show do all of this? Why would it spend all of this time developing a supporting villain and joke id character? Why would it give him a romantic arc? I see people say that the writers only gave Spike these storylines because he was popular or they wanted to keep him around, but even that being the case, there was no need to give him the specific arc that they did. It’s more than possible to read meaning into the story that they chose from the array of possible options. 

Here is the thing about the id. It’s not actually something separate from you. It’s not a ravenous monster you can blame your weaknesses on while remaining pure and dignified. The id is part of you. The immediate and enduring appeal of Spike is, I suspect, strongly influenced by the fact that the things the id wants are so very human and sympathetic. His foibles and mistakes are often painfully familiar, even exaggerated through vampirism as they are. In fact, it’s precisely because Spike is allowed to show a full range of reactions to love, because the writing is under less pressure for him to do the “right” or dignified thing, that he can at times be compelling in ways other characters can’t. If Spike just did nasty things, his appeal wouldn’t be much more complicated than the appeal of Angelus, who people tend to like as a villain or storyline rather than as a relatable character. But Spike doesn’t want to dismember nuns or construct elaborate murder tableaux. He wants familiar things like love, identity and meaning, even if the ways he goes about getting them can reflect people’s worst impulses. 

Which brings us to Buffy, and Buffy’s story about growing up. Buffy is Buffy’s show, which means that every writing choice tends to revolve around her arc in one way or another. And this goes for Spike’s storyline even more than most. In the final three seasons of the show, the writing finally engages with how inextricable the id--and all of its impulsive, inarticulate romantic desires--really is from a person’s self. So instead of keeping Spike at a comfortable distance, both Buffy and the writing begin to take him seriously. They begin to invite him in.

Starting in season five, it’s telling how frequently Buffy herself projects on Spike, rather than just the writing setting them up as mirrors. She tells him that he’s the “only one strong enough” to protect her family, and later assigns Dawn specifically to his protection. In “Spiral” she describes him as “the only one besides me that has any chance of protecting Dawn.” This is a very intimate role that she otherwise only assigns to herself (and which is not really based on pure practicality, considering that she’ll later describe Willow as her “big gun”--yet never gives Willow the task of protecting Dawn). She tells him that he cannot love, which is the thing she fears most about herself. Her protests that Spike is a vampire, and thus cannot express or want human things like love, mirror her lamentations that as the Slayer, she cannot have a normal life.

From the Gilliland Gothic double essay:

More than any of her other lovers, Buffy and Spike overlap one another so often that at times their character arcs become nearly indistinguishable. With Angel, Buffy traveled a parallel path in attempting to master self-control. With Riley, her journey ultimately took her in the opposite direction. With Spike, Buffy’s journey is most closely shadowed, in that her interactions with him in many ways can be seen as metaphors for her feelings about herself.

So now Spike is multiple things. On the one hand, he’s the soulless id he’s been since season two. His vampiric behavior represents a morally uninhibited way of reacting to romantic frustrations, among other things. But on the other hand, his vampirism now also marks him as like Buffy, not merely her opposite.* Nor is he only her mirror in the realm of romantic love. The part of him that is a vampire is the part of him that is supernatural (ie, Romantically larger-than-life), that sets him apart from regular people, and dictates how he can and cannot behave. Just like Buffy’s slayerness. His vampirism is what makes him capable of protecting Dawn, while also making him (supposedly, according to Buffy) incapable of human feeling--again, just like Buffy’s slayerness. Instead of Buffy’s Slayer side being aligned with Angelus, who was an unmitigated evil, it becomes aligned with Spike, who is something more complicated. 

*(Though it must be noted that this was a process that began in season four, with the show aligning Spike with the Scoobies by making him a victim of the Initiative. Spike being supernatural suddenly marks him as non-normative, just like the Scoobies, in contrast to the institutional conformity that the Initiative represents. The evolution towards treating the Romantic supernatural as something positive and associated with identity plays a key role in transitioning the show to the more complicated attitudes of the last three seasons.)

This shift in the show’s attitudes towards the id affects how Spike is used. In “Blood Ties” for example, Spike assists Dawn in breaking into the Magic Shop and in “Forever” he helps Dawn resurrect her and Buffy’s mother. In both cases, Spike could be read as embodying impulsive behavior that Buffy is supposed to be better than. Yet both cases specifically involve Spike helping Dawn, who is repeatedly portrayed as Buffy’s human side. As Buffy says in “The Gift”: “[Dawn]’s more than [my sister]. She’s me. The monks made her out of me. [...] Dawn is a part of me. The only part that I--”. In other words, Buffy’s id becomes closely tied to her humanity, even going so far as to become its safeguard. “Blood Ties” ends with Buffy affirming her connection to Dawn, which Spike’s rule-breaking directly enabled, and “Forever” ends with Buffy acknowledging how desperately she wants her mother back too, and becoming closer to Dawn as a result. (Compare to “Lovers Walk”, where Buffy acknowledging her id results in her breaking away from Angel, not drawing closer to anyone). Or in “Intervention”, Spike building the Buffybot directly parallels Buffy’s own anxieties about what she thinks she should be. She thinks she’s losing her ability to love, and that effusive fakery is her only recourse (as she said in “I Was Made to Love You”: “Maybe I could change. [...] I could spend less time slaying, I could laugh at his jokes. I mean men like that right? The joke laughing at?”), a fear that even has some merit, given that her friends cannot tell her and the bot apart. Instead of Buffy and Spike having separate arcs in the episode, Spike learning the difference between real and fake dovetails with Buffy’s own relationship to her realness and fakeness. It turns out that neither of them want a bot version of Buffy. They want real emotion, things like sacrifice and heartfelt gratitude. If even Buffy’s id would let itself be killed for Dawn, then maybe she has nothing to fear from herself. Maybe there is some beauty in the emotional part of her nature that she thinks she must repress.

In other words, part of the writing (and Buffy) fully engaging with romanticism and the id, means engaging with the ways they can be bad and good. There’s this weird thing that happens with Spike as soon as he falls in love with Buffy, where suddenly his actions are more uncomfortable, and to many, off-putting, because their object is Buffy (instead of another vampire like Harmony or Drusilla, who either enjoy the same vampiric things he does, or the audience might be inclined to see as a moral nonentity regardless). His comic id quality becomes somewhat darker and more serious, almost like the way Angel’s early season two darkness becomes more serious after he loses his soul. But at the same time, Spike’s actions are also more intriguing, sympathetic, and even noble...because their object is Buffy. It makes no sense that a soulless vampire should not only fall in love with the Slayer, but genuinely attempt to transform himself into someone worthy of her love. And yet that’s exactly what Buffy inspires him to do. By loving Buffy Spike’s dual nature, and the dual nature of his romanticism, is thrown into relief: it’s something that can be selfish and creepy, yes, but also something that hints at the idea that real romanticism does exist. Something worth feeling romantically about does exist. Thus the writing can at once criticize, say, the way the chivalric mindset conflates love and suffering, while also suggesting that there are kinds of love it’s worth being transformed by. (Meanwhile, Spike’s fumbling bewilderment over how to love Buffy, and what the rules of loving people correctly even are, creates a human middle ground between monstrousness and heroism). By leaning into the way that Buffy and Spike have been used as mirrors for three seasons, and introducing the mythology-bending idea of Spike being in love with Buffy, the writing is able to fully engage with this complicated, contradictory nature of love and romance.

All of which is to say. Spike becomes a potential love interest, and is given a convoluted inner conflict between monstrousness, humanity and heroism, in precisely the season in which Buffy begins to reckon with her own inner conflict between her darker impulses, her human reality, and her supernatural role. It’s no coincidence that season five opens with Dracula, an icon of romantic vampire mythology, tempting Buffy with darkness and promising her insight into her nature. Or that a vampire kidnaps Dawn--again, her human half--in the next episode. Or that the season’s antagonist is a super-strong blonde woman who wants to destroy Dawn instead of protect her. Or that she says goodbye to Riley, the boyfriend who embodied her hopes for a more normative way of being (notice how Riley is progressively destabilized by everything non-normative about Buffy’s life, and provokes those anxieties Buffy expresses in “I Was Made to Love You”). Over and over in season five, Buffy fears that her Slayer half is cold, destructive, and otherwise dangerous. That these Romantic things like gods and vampires have it in for Buffy’s vulnerable humanity. Yet Buffy’s vampire id simultaneously gives lie to these fears by proving itself capable of heroism and genuine human feeling.

In other words, Spike becomes a potential love interest in a season that treats the Romantic--ie the grand and mythical--as something more than just an attractive lie to be disabused of. Rather, the question that season five seems to posit to me, and which will not be fully answered until the end of season seven, is this: once you do clear away the attractive lies, once you accept the hard realities, once you’ve seen the darkest underbellies, what are the things that are left that are truly grand and beautiful? What are the stories that are really worth telling, and the heroes that are really worth having?

And the show asks and answers these questions on both a very personal level, and a more meta, systemic level. On the personal level, Buffy and Spike are forced to confront their illusions not just about the world, but about themselves. They are made to ask themselves what constitutes a heroic role or a demonic weakness, versus basic, unromantic humanity. And on the meta level, the show asks questions about our expectations for how both love stories and chosen hero stories are supposed to go.

part 5: “Everything used to be so clear”: Season six and the agony of the real

[blackcherrykiss]

BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.9)

[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4] [CH.5] [CH.6] [CH.7][CH.8] previous chapters

[CH.10] next chapter (unavailable on tumblr but avaliable on wattpad!)

You wait outside the nurse's office beside Jay in complete silence. You were both waiting for someone to burst out the door in front of you to rest assure Jungwon's condition.

"You can go to class, I'll stay and wait for Jungwon." Jay broke the noiseless lounge as his eyes laid flat on the grim grey floor. You were willing to stick around but realized  it would be better if you were to just leave. Jungwon probably wouldn't want to see you after the minor argument. You simply nodded your head and left without another word.

When you had arrived in your astronomy class you carefully explained yourself, explaining Jay would be gone for most of the afternoon. Your teacher listened intently and understood every word well. Sitting in your usual spot, a wave of frustration washes over you once you remember Sunghoon had stolen your book for the class. You could only hope the new interesting concept of the class would jog your mind off of things to which it did. However, as the class came to a close you couldn't help birdwatch Jay's desk. Jay's absence for the entire class continued to make you worry about Jungwon and his condition.

Sending yourself out of the class in a daze, you began to join the trail of the halls. You met Nana and Dahee walking out of their class at the same time to your surprise, "Oh! Y/N!" With an abrupt slide to slow down you let the two girls catch up to you, "Sorry we couldn't eat lunch with you and Hyesun, we went to track tryouts." Nana gleefully explained.

"It's fine, I had detention for half of lunch and then got caught up in something..." Your head going straight back to Jungwon, "We should all be apologizing to Hyesun right now..." Immediately you got reminded about what Hyesun had mentioned to you earlier, "Hey, Dahee... I actually really need to speak to you about something in private." You asked shamelessly.

Nana looked at you both suspiciously but ultimately respected the privacy you desired, "I'll get going to my last class then, girls." She tapped both of your shoulders before joining the flowing current of the hallway.

You went with Dahee to a more private space, under one of the stairwells of the school. "Dahee, Hyesun told me about you and Sunghoon..." You trailed off, hoping you didn't have to say much more as to what you were about to say.

"So you do like him?" Dahee gasped happily to your surprise, "Don't worry I'm not that into him yet... But you should've told us a long time ago!" She nudged you gently in the elbow.

"Yeah! Sorry about that..." You lied with deep despise. You now had to act like you liked Sunghoon and that was the worst feeling ever, "I'll tell you about it later then, you should get going!" You cut the conversation very short so Dahee could both get to her class in time.

"I will! See you!" She waved in a much brighter mood now that you told her you supposedly liked someone for the first time forever.

"Dear Lord, what am I getting myself into?" You muttered furiously. Were you really going the extra mile to protect your friends over some gut feelings? You were literally praying to God that you would receive some sort of reserved spot in heaven for the shadow work you were doing. That is until you were interrupted by a somberly slow clap and a couple of shoes that clacked against the stairs above you.

"Wasn't expecting such a plot twist..." Sunoo came into clear view after reaching the final step at the bottom of the staircase. This was now the second time you were caught being heard by people separate from your plan. "So you didn't like Jungwon, but Sunghoon?!" He giggled in interest and cheap pity. He seemed rather thrilled to overhear your bullshit.

"I..." You could not come up with a reply in fear of both outcomes. By telling the truth or carrying out the lie to people, you were putting yourself in a very sticky situation.

"Dahee and Sunghoon were hitting it off so well the other day, it's a shame you're in the way..." Sunoo made an overly exaggerated glum face to piss you off, "You don't actually like him now, do you?" Sunoo caught on to your intentions, circling around you, "You're just doing it to save her, yes?"

You remained silent, causing Sunoo to stop right behind you where you felt the heat of his body getting closer.

"You're a lot smarter than some girls... It's enticing really... Perhaps that's why the boys are so fond of you?" Sunoo snaked around his arm to have the dull edge of his nail touch the flesh of between your jaw and neck. Slowly he etched a line down until it was right against your throbbing pulse.

You pulled away in shock as to how scandalous the act was, "I need to go... I'm supposed to check on Jungwon." You stepped away to face Sunoo in an abrupt manner.

"I heard about Jungwon's situation from Jay," He held the sharpest part of his chin between his index and middle finger, "Jungwon will just continue to get sick. He's so malnourished."

"Malnourished?" You echoed Sunoo.

"He chose to end up like that." Sunoo walked toward you again but this time passing you, with his shoulder slightly bumping yours, "Don't pity him, darling."

You shuddered. Sunoo was the most mysterious with his hints. He was the hardest to read between the lines with. For some reason, only he out of the boys influenced your thinking pattern.

...

After school and a mediocre meal at dinner, you regretted not at least peeping your head by the nurse's office just once that afternoon. Jungwon had probably been released from health watch but you thought you could've come to terms with him that evening. It was unsatisfying as you didn't feel any closure between the war of words you had with him. What wasn't helping was the stress you also had from Sunghoon.

The daylight vanished rather quick in the colder season of the year and dusk approached rather faster than a candle blowout. Since Sunghoon didn't set a specific time, you just headed out with not a glance at the clock. Your guess was to sneak out as soon as the sun came falling down. Due to the hallway monitors of your school during the late evening, it suddenly became an obstacle you had not planned for. You were confused yourself as to how Sunghoon could sneak out at this time of day, surely sneaking out super late at night was possible but not in the evening. Eventually, you took a trip out of a window on the bottom floor of the dormitory to bypass one of the school monitors.

You were well aware of how idiotic you looked running down the concrete steps and toward the very back of your school where the shadows of the forest shined brightly. You didn't see Sunghoon at all insight which was making your heart thump in fear and anger. There was no way this guy was going to set you up like this? You bit around random parts on the inside parts of your mouth as the sky grew darker every few seconds. With no one around and nothing around to do as you waited for Sunghoon, you approached the line between the woods and open grass field. You began to get deja vu of Jungwon which made you nervous as you felt the same wispy grass tickle at your calves.

"You actually came?" Sunghoon's voice rang in the open air from behind you,  scaring the literal hell out of you.

"Y-yes I did." You sighed as to how close you were to exploring that forest, "Let's just get to the point." You turned your head back just for him to be in your personal space, you almost lost your balance trying to add some room.  

"Walk with me." He ignored your jump into things while crossing the boundary between the skylight of dusk and the darkness of the woods.  With hesitation and no clue as to what was about to go down, you followed him. "What did you want to hear from me again?" He asked carelessly with hands in his pockets as he guided you over a pile of soil and dead leaves.

"Kyungeun." You answered bluntly. "Why is she tied down to you?"

"That son of a bitch. She told you, huh?" He rolled his eyes in dear annoyance, "I guess you could say I have some information about her that would totally diminish her image." He kicked and crunched around a couple of leaves as he dragged his feet. You remembered Jaeyun had told you Kyungeun had secrets, perhaps that was it? Were you allowed to ask him about it?

Making a mental note to ask Kyungeun about it later you brisked forward to the next question, "Okay? But you said she'd be of no use to you when you get your hands on Dahee... What exactly did you mean?" Your heart thumped in loud eagerness as you move behind Sunghoon.

"She doesn't taste as good." Sunghoon paused to have you hear him clearly, "Her blood."

Your face heated up, a vibrant blush sparkling your face before the sickening realization hit you, "D-don't tell me..." The horror spreading like wildfire in your body from your head downwards. You were frozen to the very core as all the puzzle pieces came together. All the times including the gash on Kyungeun's neck, the warnings Sunoo gave, and Heeseung licking your hand... It wasn't just Sunghoon who was a vampire, it was all of the boys...

What Sunghoon faced you with a gentle eyes he withdrew the small book from inside his blazer, making your ankles shake. "I suppose you'll know why I took this now." He shook the book before throwing it in front of you with pity. You simply watched the book plop on the bed of dead leaves before your shoes in no ability to process or produce words. You didn't even feel like picking up the book as you were afraid of reading it's horrific contents.

"W-well you won't be getting your hands on Dahee any time soon." You tremble with a paralyzing fear as you tried to speak. You were regretting the bold comment, for fuck sakes the boy standing before you could kill you right then and there.

He stepped closer and closer to which you stepped further and further. "Well, then I guess I'll keep Kyungeun under my power until the day she dies." His scornful laugh made you shudder painfully. In full defeat, you were sincerely helpless. You felt you couldn't run nor report the boys, who would ever believe you? You began questioning how you even got in this position.

"Wh-why does it have to be them? Can't you just live without blood?!" You cried pathetically as you backed into a hard tree.

"And end up like Jungwon?" Delight crept onto Sunghoon's white face as yours grew in confusion, "He hasn't drunk blood in months, he's so weak to the point where he can't even stand sometimes..." Sunghoon went on to speak his mind, "Heeseung and I were convinced he was messing around you for your blood."

Your eyes shot wide open in disbelief, "Well he's clearly not like you if he's abstaining from blood."

"It's true... Something changed in him recently after he started talking to you. Perhaps he has fallen for a mortal?"

"Go to fucking hell." You muttered at a volume that wasn't loud enough for Sunghoon to hear.

"As soon as I sensed your presence that day in the library, I knew you would fall down this rabbit hole." He hummed while bending to have your eyes both at the same level. "Curiosity killed the cat."

You held your tongue with no desire to respond to Sunghoon as the closeness was now more than dangerous. But your muted self only gave Sunghoon the opportunity to proceeded to taunt you. He began caging you against the tree, causing you to press up against the rough wood where you couple feel every detail of the bark on your back.

"I remember Heeseung telling Jaeyun and I about just how good the blood from finger tasted... How about a deal?" He caught your attention as you met eyes with him. A full set of upper teeth being exposed between his rosy lips. If there was one thing you had been taught by the caregivers of your school, it was to never make deals with the devil. You knew exactly what kind of bargin Sunghoon had in store for you "I'll leave your friends in peace if you promise me this," He said with a small lean forward so that his chin rested on your collarbone earning a gasp from you,

"You'll give me your blood in exchange for theirs."

[saphirered]

Hi there! You writings are wonderful. Please could you do an EssekXreader where the reader is from another high ranking den and is betrothed to Essek for political reasons. Both Essek and Reader aren't keen on the idea but eventually after spending time together realise they actually have feelings for each other, I'm thinking a bit like The Swan Princess. Please and thank you.

This is gonna be a two parter as the current draft already exceeds my usual word count limit 🙈 so stay tuned for part two in the next few days! Hope you enjoy 😘

Denial. It must be a cruel joke. Your family, your den they would never use you as a pawn in a bigger plot. This was all just a cruel joke or a move to assure their political advancement without the need to go through with this.

Anger. No. This is real. How dare they? How could they? They would use you like that? Without having the decency to let you know before the deal was made no less! Were it anyone else you’d crush them beneath your boot like the vermin they are for condemning you to a fate not of your own choosing. Perhaps you still might…

Bargain. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe you could just play your part and go your separate ways. A betrothal doesn’t have to end in a marriage. Even if it does, all that counts is appearances. Beyond that you could still have your own life right? You’d always be able to make the ‘me’ decision and wouldn’t have to take in account the ‘we’. Yes that should be right.

Depression. Your life is ruined! You’ll forever be tied to someone else without your consent. Your decisions will reflect on the many now. You’ll have to watch your every move and every choice or it may reflect terribly on your legacy. There’ll be expectations and can you ever live up to them while still being content with your own life or will you be sacrificing your happiness for something so stupid?

Acceptance. Acceptance…. Hell no!

Time for the first official meeting with Essek Thelyss in the context of your arrangement. You’d met many times before given both of your stations and reputations but now, you couldn’t help but feel a coldness towards the man regardless of what cordial or friendly dynamic you might have had in your limited social interactions.

Your respective families meet. You on your side, Essek on his. Both of you portray the facial expressions excepted of you; indifferent content. Nothing over excited nor anything remotely negative either but you’ve been raised a reader of the people and you could see through the cracks in Essek’s appearance. He’s just as happy with this arrangement as you are; not at all.

“It is a pleasure to meet you here today.” Essek speaks. The rules of engagement have not forgone any of you despite your discontent with this whole situation but for the sake of your watching families you’d play your parts. You’d put on a damn good show.

“You as well Shadowhand. Light be blessed we get to spend it in such magnificent company.” You can feel the approving look burn into the back of your head from your Denmother. They’d be none the wiser.

And so the negotiations began. All be damned if you did not at the very least were able to set some of your own terms in this arrangement. Fundings to sustain your lifestyle or a dowry were the least of your worries. You were more concerned with a place you could call your own, time to spend for yourself, security and stability and the ability to continue your life as is regardless of possible marriage. You would never give up your seat at the Bright Queen’s council and you’re very sure Essek wouldn’t give up his either.

Essek had to admit you played the game well. You’re a killer negotiator. Your persuasive side had shone at the Bastion more than once but those circumstances are wholly different than these. Your ability to make it sound like these ideas came from your den and not yourself, and have them think these suggestions were their ideas in the first place is simply remarkable. Remarkable and dangerous. Respect. But no matter how good of a talker you are, or he is for that matter, neither of you could get out of this.

Afternoon tea, a few lunches and dinners here and there and even a few events you were forced to attend with Essek as your escort under the careful watch of your dens. Whenever you were sure they were out of earshot you did not make it unknown neither of you wanted to be here and would prefer to be as far away from each other as possible.

Then there were the times you swore you might actually be able to like the Shadowhand. Councils held lead to many arguments, the Bright Queen watching the court fight among themselves for a next course of action, fundings to be divided and efforts to be pursued. You always kept a level head not allowing yourself to get worked up, or at least appear you weren’t but sometimes you could strangle the life out of some of these fools.

To your surprise in some of these occasions Essek would take your side and support your arguments, concerns and points brought up in debates. So he does know what’s good for him after all? Those moments were quickly ruined by the next point on the schedule where you’d be at opposing sides again. Usually you’d be able to work up an opponent in debate until their credibility would be questioned but Essek had caught onto your games and was no fool. If you could keep your cool, so could he. You had learned how to push his buttons as he had yours.

After a particularly heated debate the Bright Queen dismissed the dens, done with the bickering and infighting for the day. You couldn’t blame her even though there were still many things unspoken. You and Essek were at odds once more and you couldn’t be happier to be done for the day and head somewhere you wouldn’t be forced to interact with the asshole.

Conferring with your allies, trying to gain support of others, you grabbed your things ready to leave the Bastion. There he floated in the anti-chamber eyes cold focussed on you, waiting. You pretend you don’t notice and keep walking for the exit. Essek calls your name as you’re about to pass him. You don’t respond and keep going. He calls again. No response. He grabs your arm stopping you in your tracks. How you’d hoped to escape this confrontation.

“A moment of your time please.” The words leave his lips with an artificial, well-practiced warmth. Oh you’re fighting so hard to contain yourself but you too had a facade to keep up.

“Another time perhaps. I’ve grown quite exhausted after the day’s events. If you will excuse me.” You smile innocently placing your hand over his secured around your wrist. You pry your fingers beneath forcing him to release his grasp on you.

“Then allow me to escort you back home. Should you be able to muster up the strength to converse on our path I’d love nothing more than to just hear your voice.” Essek encases your hands between his. Eyes of the dens fall upon the two of you in the middle of the anti-chamber. Essek is known to be a reserved individual and these advances definitely stand out.

Oh so that’s the game we’re playing. Asshole move, Shadowhand. Two can play this game. If it’s the company you’re currently in he’s using against you you can do the same. You take a step closer to him standing on your tiptoes and lean in to press your lips to his cheek. You linger just a little and whisper into his ear.

“I have nothing to say to you.” You allow the distaste to bleed through your barely audible words before you pull away and take a step back. You couldn’t refuse his ‘generous offer’. It might make you look bad so you smile bright and nod even managing to call on a fake blush like some lovesick fool. From the corners of your eyes you notice the court members whisper among each other. Good. Let them talk. You link your arm through Essek’s still carrying your things.

“I believe I might have forgotten my transcripts of the day. Would you mind joining me in retrieving them?” So whatever the wizard needed to discuss with you he couldn’t say in public… Oh Essek what a mistake you made… That certainly offers you some opportunities to use to your advantage.

“Nonsense! I have my transcripts. You’re free to borrow them, or perhaps you’d like to study them with me? It might give us the opportunity to come to a compromise without wasting the Council’s time. After all, there’s much more pressing matters.” His expression might be a thankful one but if looks could kill… you’d be introduced into your next life this very second.

You begin leading Essek out of the building not allowing him any response or comeback for your previous statement. You walk head held high catching onto the praises of others. ‘A great match’? If only they knew…

Your walk continued in seething silence from Essek. Until you reached your home. Opening the door and leaning against the doorframe making sure no one else is in sight, you smirk at him.

“I’m curious. If I refused to part with these,” You hold up the transcripts. “What would you do? Would you go back and receive your own copies or would you go without them?” You leaf through the pages. It’s not like you needed them. You already had all you needed memorised so if anything they’d go into your archives for future reference and case study if necessary. Essek doesn’t dignify you with an answer yet so you continue to press his buttons.

“Would you be able to discredit my every word or counter them without the direct word for word reference? Would your arguments hold any weight against my own? Or would you be forced to depend on the vote or Light’s mercy, the Bright Queen’s verdict because if the latter, you’ve already lost, my dear.” You can’t hold back the smugness in your achievements. The look of defeat brought you satisfaction.

Essek bites his tongue. Even he knows that in theoretics you have the upper hand now. Recalling your words from memory alone wouldn’t be enough. He’d needed to cite them exactly providing the transcript in your possession. He couldn’t go back or it might arise questions, questions he couldn’t afford at this moment. What caught him off guard was you offering him the transcript still. He takes it before you can change your mind, the pages disappearing beneath his cloak.

“Luckily for you I’m not your enemy. Yes we might disagree on matters of state but at the end of the day we’re going to be stuck together and there’s nothing either of us can do about it.”

“What are you suggesting?” Essek doesn’t know wether he should be wary, outright suspicious, or glad you’ve come up with a plan amidst the chaos.

“A truce. If we keep these antics going it will lead to a war between the two of us. Are you really prepared to be expected to spend the rest of your life with someone you’ve grown to hate? Because I’m not. I’d rather sleep in my bed withe the comfort of knowing my partner will not stab me in the back or sabotage me at every opportunity he gets.” Partner. He. Not they. He. So not even you had a way out of this betrothal.

“Resentment grows much faster than affection.” Essek deadpans. Yes he sees your reasonings and you make some solid arguments but that doesn’t mean he has to trust your motives. He’s aware you in your position are much more dangerous than any spy, assassin or foreign force.

“Light be with me.” You’re exasperated. You’re offering an olive branch and this is his response? You pull him inside and close the door dropping the act entirely within the confines of your own home knowing no one will be watching you here.

“I am not offering you an epic enemies to lovers tale! I’m offering to make the best out of a situation neither of us actually want to be in! Marriage is just another contract. We do what is expected of us by following it to the letter and nothing more, nothing less. Love or affection is not part of that contract but respect is.” Essek takes in your words and considers them making sure you’re not twisting things in such a way you could later use against him or to your advantage.

“Your logic is sound and your arguments persuasive.” You raise your hand in an exasperated ‘thank you’ as he straightens your back and looks down at you.

“Very well. We have an agreement.” You’re on the verge of letting out a breath of relief at Essek agreeing to your terms and suggestions. You’d rather be sure this man isn’t going to drop you on a different plane in your sleep once you’ll be forced to share a home. You’d rather know you can trust him to have your back despite your grievances. At the end of the day, you both want to survive.

“Match made in Elysium.” Sarcasm is clear in your voice and the both of you cannot help but smile. More like match made in hell with the ‘letter of the law’ approach to navigating your predicament.

—————

Pacing back and forth fingers pressed to your lips in thought of Essek’s sitting room you ponder the terms of your agreement. Essek himself is seated on the couch leaning over a two sheets of paper, a long list of demands from both sides written on each.

“Next up housing.” You announce. Essek fiddles with the pen looking over the lists.

“I’m not willing to part with my towers unless something of equal or greater value is returned. I need space for my practices, experiments and studies.”

“I’ll agree to part with my own home under the terms you will share your personal resources with me and I will have amicable space for my own pursuits be this here or at another place of our mutual choosing.” Essek considers your terms on this matter. They are agreeable but this is a negotiation and neither of you are refraining from pushing for an outcome to suit yourself best.

“We will share my home then but we will both share our resources unless they pertain to exclusively personal matters or those of state when we inevitably find ourselves on opposing sides in the Bastion.” You stop pacing and turn to face Essek. He watches for your responses.

“I get my own tower.” You counter.

“That’s preposterous. I have need for certain rooms and areas for my studies and cannot relocate them.”

“Fine. Then I’ll get all unoccupied or unnecessary rooms.”

“You’ll get your own private bedchambers, study and sitting room just as I’ll have mine. These chambers will be exclusive and privacy to be respected. Other spaces save for my laboratory, for your own safety, are communal.” By the expression on your face Essek knows you’ve caught him in a loophole.

“Agreed. We’re entitled to our private spaces and will share the unspecified ones. Kitchen, dining room, living area… library…” You caught hime there… Essek’s expression turns sour. He’d have preferred to keep that one to himself but the agreement is fair.

“I wish to make an amendment.”

“Name your terms.”

“Some shelves will belong to my private collection. You will refrain from touching these tomes and scrolls without my explicit permission.” You ponder not entirely convinced. There’s nothing in there for you and Essek knows it. You raise an eyebrow for him to continue and concede on a previously negotiated term for this amendment to go through.

“And in return, you get to redecorate our communal spaces how you see fit, within the realms of reason.” Essek empathises the latter part of his statement.

“Agreeable.” You nod. “Next up; social engagements.”

The two of you go back and forth agreeing, adjusting, and conceding to come to an equal understanding and finalise your arrangement. Over all, it went surprisingly well. It certainly was a nice change of scene to have somewhat friendly negotiations without the added pressure of the dens and the Bright Queen herself watching you.

Essek makes for a good conversationalist and you might even dare say you enjoyed your afternoon setting the terms and conditions. Maybe you could be friends after all. That would be nice.

[kate-river]

Proud to present you “Toussaint’s Finest” - my witcher fic written for the Eskel Big Bang, featuring incredible art from the wonderful @justhereforeskel Enjoy! ;)

Relationship: Eskel/Geralt

Rating: M

Word Count: 9K

Summary:

Eskel is still roaming the Continent. But in recent years the Path has become harder and harder. Eskel has made it a habit to come by Corvo Bianco around vintage and this year's events might change a few things in his life forever.

Read the first chapter below and or the completed fic on AO3.

Check out @justhereforeskel‘s artwork!

Eskel knelt down beside the riverbank. The gravel scrunched under his boots and for a second, his cat-like eyes flashed in the sun. He sighed when he reached into the water and watched as the stream carried away a tiny trail of blood.

The wind rustled in the nearby trees and the witcher, still rubbing his hands clean, turned his gaze southeast. In the distance shimmered the familiar vineyards of the Sansretour valley and the sight of their natural beauty stirred something in his heart.

Behind him though, the monstrous cadaver of a bear lay on the blood-soaked ground. The beast had a ferocious wound on its shoulder and the once so powerful creature seemed shrunken now that its body was lifeless. The most apparent feature of the corpse however, was its missing head. The very same that dangled from Scorpion’s saddle.

When Eskel got up, he was disgusted and sick at the sight. As a witcher he was supposed to kill beasts. But a bear? It had just been another curiosity that had suffered from coming too close to a village.

Eskel sighed as he mounted Scorpion. He strongly felt the need to leave this place; to move on. To get away from a task that he had only been compelled to accept in order not to arrive at Corvo Bianco empty handed.

As Scorpion fell into a powerful gallop, Eskel relaxed into the movement and his thoughts wandered off. A sensation of freedom pulsated through his veins and for a moment his doubts vanished.

 A few hours earlier…

 “Hey Master witcher, over here!”

A young man dressed in a worn-out leather jerkin waved in Eskel’s direction. His eyes were blown wide and his straightforwardness suggested an urgent matter. Eskel reigned in Scorpion, left the dusty path and took a halt next to the man.

“Master witcher, an evil spirit is roaming the woods.! Two days ago, one of our men was killed – I beg your help! We’re poor country folk, but we will pay!”

You better do, Eskel thought to himself. Although empty, his purse weighed heavy on his conscience. Arriving at Corvo Bianco without money would embarrassing – tolerable still - but heading for a winter at Kaer Morhen penniless would even be dangerous.

Eskel immediately recognized the hostile reactions when they entered a small woodworker’s settlement. Children were hushed and hastily dragged into their homes by their parents. Doors were hurriedly shut and if Eskel would have wanted to see, he would have noticed the people starring and pointing at him behind drawn curtains.

But he had no other choice. For weeks there weren’t any good contracts and a mysterious monster in the woods sounded like something profitable for once.

The young man led Eskel to the biggest hut of the settlement and a sturdy, yet bald man standing underneath the nearby oak tree suddenly stopped his wood carvings. Eskel noticed that the man’s left hand was missing a finger and his expression was anything but welcoming. He gave the younger man a sharp look and then turned to Eskel.

“Master witcher, how can I be of service?”, with a feigned smile he added, “I’m afraid but… we can’t offer children.”

Eskel, already used to this kind of reaction, sighed and looked him straight in the eye, making a dirty brown iris meet his shiny amber one.

“I was told there was a contract.”, he stated slowly, distinctly.

“I fear there must have been a mistake.”

Suddenly the door behind the man opened and a dangerously beautiful mage entered the place. She was dressed in luxurious fabrics and her long black hair nearly reached her waist. The two men bowed before her. But Eskel, weary of the hostile welcome, denied the courtesy.

“What do we have here?” she mockingly asked. “A mutant –created by the most senseless representatives of my guild. You’re a rarity these days, witcher.”

“With all due respect, your guild indeed comprises some senseless individuals, sorceress.”

“Witcher, you have a wicked tongue too. What a pleasure!”

She smiled slyly and gestured him to follow into the hut. He did, but with sharpened senses. Surprisingly the mage, as rude as she had appeared, was straight forward about the monster – beast to be more accurate - and sincerely promised Eskel a reasonable reward.

 But when Eskel returned to the woodworker’s settlement with his trophy his doubts returned as well. The village seemed abandoned. Nobody tried to hide and nobody pointed at him. Alarmed he scanned the few huts and carefully pushed Scorpion to move on. Something was wrong and he wasn’t eager to find out what or why.

At a twitch of his medallion Eskel tensed up. The vibration grew stronger while he neared the main hut, but as he was close enough, the sickness he had already felt once today returned. From the old oak tree hang the lifeless body of a young man dressed in a worn-out leather jerkin.

Anger welled up in the witcher’s chest. He tied Scorpion to the old tree and suppressed the need to let out a furious roar. Eskel soundlessly drew his sword – the steal one, as it befitted the monsters he was going to fight. But before he could come any closer, the door of the hut opened. The mage shielded by the poorly armed woodworkers emerged.

She gestured the men to let her through, but the moment she left their shielding ring Eskel’s blade touched her throat.

“One step closer and you’ll be next. What happened to him?”, he barked.

The mage laughed hysterically and answered “Sawyer? He brought a mutant to our village, the poor lad. In these parts people get killed for less.”

At this exact moment, she tried to conjure up a portal, but Eskel was faster. He stunned her hand and instead of a portal a wobbly structure appeared behind him. She screamed angrily and used the few seconds to pull a simple dagger from her boots. In the meantime, her ever so brave protectors advanced, coming for Eskel with raised axes and pitchforks. The witcher growled and parried the blows easily, but the distraction was enough. The mage leapt at him, missing his throat by the fraction of an inch. Eskel roared and suddenly he couldn’t contain his anger. He was a monster? A mutant? Well, then they should have their mutant!

Taking his left hand from the grip of his sword Eskel felt the tingle of magic flow through his hand. His powerful Igni struck the line of woodworkers and chaos broke loose. They screamed trying to shield their burned faces, dropping their weapons in order to stifle the fire on their cloths. The fire caught hold of the hut too and the less wounded men tried to keep it under control.

Meanwhile the mage had prepared to conjure up another portal. But Eskel wouldn’t let her go through with it. With a swift movement he left behind the inexperienced fighters and blocked the mage’s way.

“Go to hell, witcher!”, she gasped out as Eskel launched into an attack. But before his sword could come close to her again the bald man with the missing finger threw himself between them raising a rusty pitchfork. But the witcher’s sword pierced his lung and his last words drowned in a pained gurgling.

Hysterically laughing the mage cried out “A monster slayer! Look around you witcher –are these men monsters to you?”

“Why did you hang the boy?” he panted. He knew he wouldn’t have long until the shock of killing innocent people would settle in. He had to finish this quickly.

The mage’s insane laughter didn’t help. She managed to open the portal and just before she slipped away a precise blow separated her torso from her lower body.

In his rage Eskel turned around and roared. He grabbed the pitchfork of the dying man and went over to the old oak tree. He rammed the pitchfork into the earth just below the hanged man’s corpse. 

Scorpion whinnied and Eskel, still half in fight mode, took down the bear’s head from his horse’s saddle.

Wordlessly he impaled it on the pitchfork – leaving an unmistakable sign.

[shekorla]

Linked Universe Zeldas

So last December I decided to draw my idea for the Zeldas on a whim. Found the WIP recently and decided to finish it.

Also, I typed up all my headcanons for them because I have a lot. They are below the cut. 

And I put down nickname ideas, because I'm bad at naming things, and I think the LU discord has already decided on a set of nicknames that they like. Personally, I really dislike most of those though.

❖Corresponding Link: Four

     o Age: Teen, just older than Four. Not a major difference, just enough that she can tease him about it.

     o Status: Officially still holds the title of princess, acts more like a queen. Her father is extremely protective of her, but after Vaati he conceded that he couldn’t protect her forever. Since then she has been learning to fight, forge (not good at it), and taking over more and more responsibilities from her aging father

     o Nickname ideas: Light, Picori, Force

     o Fighting style: Mostly fights with a sword and shield. Has extremely strong innate light magic. (light force, although weaker now) Doesn’t necessarily know how to focus it yet (magic bomb, some healing). If you are going to be on the battlefield stop running around like that.

     o Current relationship to Link: Best friends, practically siblings. When they were kids there was definitely some major crushing going on. Then everything with Vaati happened and things got… complicated. Neither she nor Link really knows what type of romance they want for the future. They still play lots of pranks on people. She helps keep him stable on the days when his colors get a little too wild.

     o Random stuff: Hyperactive and cheery. Always something new to see or learn and she wants to do it. hates sitting still, she is always moving somehow (got turned to stone). Top is hers; Link made the sword (gift), rest is extras from four’s parts (stolen). Hair is naturally extremely curly, lets it down for formal things, tied up for adventuring. Helped four get back to functioning as Link after being four people. Will attack him to get him to take care of himself. Is taller than both four and wind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❖ Corresponding Link: Hyrule

     o Age: At least a hundred. Was 18 when she was cursed to sleep, no one is exactly sure how long she was asleep.

     o Status: Was a princess before falling asleep, offered the crown once woken up. Really over being royal. Link helped her get a job and lodging on a farm at the edge of Hyrule. Really likes that.

     o Nickname ideas: Legacy, Farmgirl, First, Ancestor.

     o Fighting style: Healer. Lots of bandages to patch everyone up. Doesn’t like to fight, but will stab a man if the need arises. The world is cruel, be kind. Has weak magic, a little bit of healing, and lots of prophetic. Knows the best places to hide on a battlefield.

     o Current relationship to Link: They are good friends. He checks up on her from time to time, and she makes sure that he always has a place to rest and relax in safety. Their world is a little bit of a mess, everyone needs a support system.

     o Random stuff: Has insomnia. Afraid of not waking up. Extremely wise, or maybe just world-weary. On tense but good terms with current queen Zelda of Hyrule. Forgives her brother, has come to terms with her fate. Taciturn and calm, probably depressed. Extremely sensitive to dark magic. (like an old burn wound) Dislikes people who use it to forcefully get their way. Doesn’t outright hate the principle of it, but will actively shy away from the presence of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❖ Corresponding Link: Time

     o Age: Adult, mentally/physically the same age.

     o Status: Queen of Hyrule. She is married and has a daughter.

     o Nickname ideas: Destiny, Sheik, Queen, Lyre/Harp (what is that thing?), Sage.

     o Fighting style: Fights mostly with magic. Uses the harp to play songs (ironically fights like HW sheik) has basic sheikah skills. Has only been training to fight for a short time, is still fairly physically weak. One of the most proficient magic users all round. Can take down the basic mooks, but won't last long against a bigger enemy. Knows how to fight alone.

     o Current relationship to Link: Strained. Not OOT sheik. Is MM Zelda. Only knows link as the boy who showed up to save the day, then left. Has had occasional interactions, she visits the ranch, he works with the guard. Only in the past year or two, she has had dream glimpses of the alternate timeline. She knows that she and link killed Ganon side by side, that she helped link disguised as sheik. Does not know about the seven years or most of the trauma. Basically, seen like five cutscenes and nothing else.

     o Random stuff: Prophetic dreams. Knew she would be leaving on a quest. Kingdom is well set up to work in her absence. Loves her family, is an idiot who doesn’t know the importance of checking in via letters for anything other than politics. Snobbish, proud, put too much stock in titles. Best manager, not a great leader (doesn’t have the personal skills for it). Sees the world as extremely black and white.

❖ Corresponding Link: Twilight

     o Age: Young adult.

     o Status: Newly coronated queen, has been running the show for a few years now, it's just barely official

     o Nickname ideas: Dusk, Dawn, Shadow

     o Fighting style: Uses mainly rapier to fight. Also, a great archer. Because of temporarily sharing a soul with Midna, has access to powerful twilight magic. Not as strong as Midna, still strong. Has goddess magic (channel through weapons). Tries to hide twili powers mostly since it's “dark magic”, but only technically. She knows it's not true dark magic and really just wants to avoid a lecture (does not get along well with time’s Zelda). Knows her way around the edge of a battlefield.

     o Current relationship to Link: They barely know each other. Only really interacted through saving the world things. Then they went separate ways. She considers Midna a sister and wants to slap both Midna and Link for not realizing they like each other. Once she knows Link better, she will probably tease him a lot.

     o Random stuff: Unlike most of the other Zeldas, sees the world as being mostly shades of grey, rather than stark black and white. Somber and stoic. Secretly a massive gremlin. Has a few habits picked up from Midna's soul along with the magic. Is awkward around ‘normal’ people. Has spent almost her entire life in political settings. One of the best politicians. Rather open about her feelings, it's just small and easily missed. Feels guilty for the troubles that befell both Hyrule and the twilight realm. Hates having to stand back unable to help. Screw rules she is going to help.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❖ Corresponding Link: Wild

      o Age: 118-120ish(?) I don’t know how long it has been since the events of BOTW.

      o Status: Technically queen, currently is focused on rebuilding Hyrule. Has no intention to take up the throne any time soon.

      o Nickname ideas: Scholar, Architect, Champion, Urbosa, Scientist, Little Bird.

      o Fighting style: Not a great fighter but she is learning. Decent with a sword. Gets a crossbow from twilight and then makes her own out of sheikah tech. (currently has no magic and good riddance). Learning to navigate a battlefield.

      o Current relationship to Link: They are good friends, but it's awkward. Neither of them are totally sure how to act around the other. Basically, either gremlin adventures, or awkward small talk. Past the first road trip, only interact a few times a month. She is caught between trying to mourn her knight and accepting her new hero. Cooking shenanigans.

      o Random stuff: Loves learning new things. Can and will study and find the effects of every plant. Knows poisons, antidotes, elixirs, potions, and everything else. Still trying to come to terms with everything that happened. Frequent nightmares. Claustrophobic/minor insomnia. Knows all the languages. Loves studying sheikah tech, and finally gets the chance to as much as she wants. Hates the castle. So many things change culturally over 100 years and she has no idea what to do. Awkward, but sincere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❖ Corresponding Link: Wind

     o Age: Teen

     o Status: Technically the queen. Hyrule currently consists of a single town on the mainland, and lots of plans. Queenish. Anjean is teaching her how to politics.

     o Nickname ideas: Name is tetra that’s it.

     o Fighting style: Uses a pirate saber as well as the phantom sword. (IDK if spirit tracks is part of Wind’s story, but I was not passing up the opportunity to give tetra a massive sword). Decent archer, and can channel light magic into weapons…. most of the time…... It’s a work in progress. Also has general goddess magic. Big explosion of light. Knows her way around a battlefield

     o Current relationship to Link: Serve on a crew together. Best friends and partners in crime. There is a lot that needs to be done to start a country, they will do it together. It’s not going quickly. They keep getting distracted. Why do paperwork when you can steal things.

     o Random stuff: Smol. Link hit puberty and got a growth spurt. She did not. Not a politician, this child should not be in charge, whose idea was it to let a pirate child run a country. Great leader. All the social skills. Shoot first… that’s it. Sassy. Trying her best to be a good princess and live up to her lineage. It's hard. There is no book. Feels like she is letting everyone down. Hates big birds. Occasional nightmares. Really hates being cold. (turned to stone)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❖ Corresponding Link: Legend

     o Age: Older teen

     o Status: Queen. Has ruled for a while. Amazing support system. They regularly keep things running when she gets kidnapped. Good relations with all surrounding countries.

     o Nickname ideas: Maiden, Sage, Hilda.

     o Fighting style: Doesn’t. Pacifist. She can attack with light magic, chooses not to. Healing magic, team buffs, defense. Just because she doesn’t fight doesn’t mean she will let her team die. Strongest support magic. Does not know her way around a battlefield.

     o Current relationship to Link: Good work friends. They get along well enough. No massive personal relations. She asks him for help with killing monsters, he asks her for help with laws. It works for them. Occasionally they will get lunch together and catch up. (aka make sure he didn’t get himself killed.) Can use telepathy to contact Link at any time. Keeps it to emergencies only. Because he finds it massively annoying, and a little creepy.

     o Random stuff: Massive romantic. Currently single. Misses being able to gossip with Hilda. Kind and compassionate. Does not stand for injustice. Will forgive until the end of time. Just because she is kind does not mean she is weak. Strong-willed. Good politician. Loved by her people, even if Ganon has attacked like five times. Ganon is the only person on the list of people she would happily shank. So much paperwork. Give the girl a break. Keeps craft supplies on her for long imprisonments. Scrying magic, and a little bit prophetic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

❖ Corresponding Link: Warriors

     o Age: Adult. Older than warriors, younger than time or his Zelda.

     o Status: Queen of Hyrule, and commander of its army. Her Hyrule has been in turmoil for a while even before the war with Cia.

     o Nickname ideas: General, Commander, Tactician.

     o Fighting style: Best fighter. Can use all the weapons. Summon a bow or rapier of pure light magic. Strongest understanding of how the goddess magic works with weapons. Mostly fights as Zelda (basically her gameplay style), still uses her sheik disguise sometimes (ironically fights similar to smash bros sheik because of extensive sheikah training.) Lives on the battlefield.

     o Current relationship to Link: They work seamlessly together in battle and are friends outside of it. They haven't actually known each other very long so it's awkward sometimes. She still has to occasionally remind him that she doesn’t need a title. If they were two kids in a village then they would probably date. But they are not, and things are complicated. Duty to the kingdom comes first.

      o Random stuff: Best makeup. Amazing, if ruthless, politician. Best historian. Blunt. No time for crap. One of the best leaders doesn’t have the pure charisma to outdo warriors though. Resting B Face. 90% of soldiers are scared of her. Comes across as harsh, rude, cold. Really, she is just a bit awkward and hides behind a mask. Can’t do people, can do basically anything else. Minor prophetic magic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❖ Corresponding Link: Sky

     o Age: Old teen/young adult. Older than Sky.

     o Status: Technically the queen, but Hyrule hasn’t been founded yet. Officially goddess Hylia reincarnated. She doesn’t go around flaunting the title, but sometimes the memories of Hylia she gained will overwhelm her. Full goddess mode. Doesn’t stand for dark magic.

     o Nickname ideas: Hylia, Sun, Swallow.

     o Fighting style: trained at the academy and knows how to fight with a sword. Not a good fighter. massive bursts of power usually win her fights. Sometimes she can channel a little bit of her power, but usually, she just gets overwhelmed by all of it. General goddess magic, cannot channel through weapons. Thinks she does, but in fact, does not know her way around a battlefield

     o Current relationship to Link: Do I need to explain? These two are head over heels. Sappy love birds all the way. Childhood friends. Everyone is surprised they're not engaged yet.

     o Random stuff: More adventure-ready style to reflect working on founding Hyrule. Fierce and determined. Kind. But she will get her way. Struggles to balance her mortality and newfound divinity. Feels bad that Sky had to fight for her. Loves her bird. Beautiful singing voice. She is trying her best but is in fact very bad at being an adventurer. Good at sewing. Loads of people skills, working on leadership skills. Best with children. 6th sense type prophetic magic. (aka see a shot before it is taken, but not a coming calamity.)

That's it. Congrats on making it to the end. You get a cookie. 🍪

[taberdoodle]

Origin: Serenity and Oberon (Obi) TW/CW: kidnappings, death, mentions of rotting corpse, denial of loss/death, hallucination, broken sanity, Both of them are fiancée's and met each other back in high school during the time he was forced to join the football team. He wasn't exactly excited or wanted to be apart of it, yet the moment he met Serenity who was one of the many cheerleaders, he grew to fall for her. Her cheering always felt more personal as they would meet in the bleachers pretty often to get to know each other after their first interaction under there. Which was him finding her crying and hiding away. Since then the both of them grew closer and closer. He couldn't see himself with any other, and she felt safe with him. even though college the both of them perused the same careers that their families wanted them to. encouraging each other to keep pushing forward with it even when their families were tough on them. But their families did support their relationship which was the good side of this all. by the time he proposed to her, they decided to be honest with their families and cut ties with them, separating from them if they didn't want to support them after not wanting to follow what their families wanted. (sad to say, their families really weren't happy about that, sure the marriage was supported, but if it meant that they wouldn't go for the careers that the families chose, they weren't satisfied) Thus they journeyed their adult life together going for whatever they wanted. She wanted to be a florist and he just wanted to support her as he didn't have a dream other than to stay with her forever. and things get dark from here on out.. _______________________________________________________ Yet both of them had their dreams cut off from them before they could save up enough for the wedding. Serenity was kidnapped and killed. By the time he was able to find her and who had done it, it was already too late. killing the people who had taken her life. he would take her body with him back to their happy little personal home that was theirs. that they would have kids and get married in.

Their home felt dull and sad as he stared at her lifeless body.

it would be in denial, seeing her. he would store her body away to make sure to keep her safe and as fresh as possible. Scared that she will disappear entirely. but he knew nothing about how to take care of corpses, so sadly as days, MONTHS go on. she would rot away and he'd slowly go crazier and desperate to keep her alive. even when subconsciously he KNEW she wasn't alive. He'd make dinner for her, give her baths and do all he could to care for her. But everything would fall apart the longer it became. He never told her or his own family.

but when the smell became too unbearable, he decided to finally bury her in their backyard.

once he tried to tell himself that she was gone and accept it, he became extremely depressed, taking care of himself less and less. never leaving the house, finding it hard to have any motivation for anything. he would try to look back at their photo album that she insisted they make for memories to share with their future kids. and one of the photos called out to him. It was the day he proposed to her, she seemed so happy, but knew nothing of what would come that day. as he couldn't believe that he could see her even happier afterwards. ---------------------------------------------------------- going through her things yet again gave him a warm feeling, like her energy was still there...like she was still there. He would put on her choker for the first time. something about the tight grip gave him butterflies. It felt like she was holding him desperately. and he would find more comfort in wearing more of her clothes, even if some of them didn't fit. He just wanted something, ANYTHING to feel like she was still there. to give him a reason to go out. Obi slid the photo of her in his chain wallet and would head out for the first time in a half a year.

this would be his start to picking himself back up, sadly clinging onto her life one last time. at least that's what he thought. 3 months after his first time out he would see someone that looked exactly like her, his heart would stop. Following them through the day, even taking out the picture of her to compare. it felt so unreal...he felt like maybe he had finally snapped. gone crazy. Yet after the first time seeing this person, he would run into her multiple times everyday. He started stalking this person quickly afterwards, just to make sure it wasn't her. maybe he just imagined things. maybe she really WASNT dead?! So when this girl caught him staring at her, she got scared right away. He chased after her, apologizing for freaking her out, stupidly only scaring her more

when he finally catches up to the women, he takes their wrist and pulls them towards himself.

The girl trembling under his grip. he smiled, hugging onto her. "my sweet honey bee~ why did you lie to me? I thought you had died" The women pushing him away and yelling "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" Only for a moment would his vision fuck with him, flashing what the person really looked like. only for him to blink back, seeing yet again his serenity. angry, freaked out at HIM. something was wrong, but he felt like if he let her go, she'll disappear all over again. get kidnapped, get hurt.

while she had the chance, the women ran away, trying to escape. Which was a bad mistake, right away getting caught again, but this time all turns black for her as she was knocked out. hearing a soft "sorry love. I can't let you be taken all over again. I'll promise to take care of you.."

He would kidnap this random person whom he was hallucinating, seeing her as his fiancée. he would start out taking care of her, but the more she resisted and got angry or fought back, the more distant he became. his fake reality will slowly fall apart, to the point where when he leaves the fake fiancée in his basement while he goes grocery shopping...he'll see someone new, someone who yet again looked like Serenity. Realizing that who he took was 'fake' thus the moment he goes back to his basement, he would take all his anger out on the poor person. yet, even when killing them, they still looked like his love. only fueling his anger more. someone pretending to be her. mentally not right in the head at all.

Thus a cycle begins. a never ending one.

his basement was full of every 'serenity' he 'dated'. Each 'date' was different than the other. almost like he had a chance to introduce himself all over again. it became more and more enjoyable whenever he was able to do things right with his 'serenity' and found himself seeing that in his partners, yet all the while knowing full well that it was all in his head.

his basement is entirely off limits as if someone were to go in, they would never come back out

[ruby-rebel-kjrp]

Some five was supposed to be storming. The sky was still blue and cloudless. The earth was as dry and dusty as always. She wasn’t usually one to care about things the citizens said. But Ruby hated being called a liar. She knew she had faults. She said and did things that were questionable and problematic. She stopped caring about peoples reactions. But there was something about being called a lair that filled her with rage. Ruby wish she was lying. That she was still young and naive and trusting but no. She was bitter, and had the BLI signature of experimentation slashed across her lower body. The tracker in her arm was reversible. She just tore it out with a knife one night at 19. Sterilization was forever. The sound of heavy footsteps behind her as she walked through the late afternoon light perked her ears up. She wasn’t usually one people bothered, seeing she had an ability to go unnoticed. Bad day she supposed, hell bad week. Ruby didn’t have to turn around to know it was an exterminator.

“Look, it’s been a long day. I’m tired. Can I reschedule the violence and the foul language for another time?”

“No.” Oh wonderful. Marcus. Ruby didn’t care enough about BLI to pick a nemesis from exterminators like Adrian or Isaac. They for the most part forgot she existed, and she kept under the radar. But Marcus was different. Killing and doing a job is different than betrayal. Betrayal was different. Personal. He made it personal. Four years ago when she was taken in the middle of the night, sterilized. When she was butchered from a botched pregnancy termination. When she was separated from her brother and listened to her get tortured for hours. The worst events of her life were tied to one man. Marcus. “Sorry your having a hard time, pet. Anything I can do to make it better? I used to know how to make you feel really good. But then you had to go and be a disgusting little terrorist. Bad form”

Ruby’s green eyes closed. She felt her heartbeat in her ears. Her hands reached for the crowbar in her boot, her signature weapon against anyone. With speed and grace, it took one swift motion of pulling the crowbar out and spinning on her heel. When she opened her eyes she weighed her options. He was closer than she anticipated. His face was focused on her movements. The last time they encountered each other, she almost didn’t make it alive. He would be anticipating any tricks he knew, but he didn’t know all of them. With a elegant motion, her leg flew out to fly beneath her opponent’s legs, which was enough to throw off his balance, then with her crowbar, she swung. She got his face, not enough to cause serious injuries but she suspected she broke his cheekbone. Marcus stumbled, turning to the side to spit out a mouthful of fresh blood. “Here I was hoping to talk to you, maybe work out our differences. Maybe get back together. Yet all you want to do is fight? That is the starts of a very toxic relationship Ruby. I suppose we can fight.”

The asshole wasted no time pulling his blaster from its hold on his waist, and pointing it at her. Ruby wasn’t exactly afraid of this man, but she wasn’t stupid. She wanted to know why though. Why he needed to hurt her? After everything. It still wasn’t enough. “This isn’t looking too good for our heroine…”

“Why? You knew I was pregnant. You knew. You knew I was pregnant and it was yours. I don’t care because I would never want any part of you in me. But why did you let them terminate it. Why did you let them sterilize me?” Ruby was distracting him with questions she knew the answer to. For the city. Because she wasn’t worth it. Yadda yadda. But then he spoke “Well, personally I was in it for the sex. A warm body is so much better than a droid. Then I found out scum like you could reproduce. I didn’t want my dna mixed with scum like yours. So I told them to. And to sterilize you as well. Keeps your king from having the upper hand.”

There was something about his words that caused her to loose herself. Her hands reached for her crowbar. And she lunged forwards. Stabbing him with her trusty tool in the left eye. Marcus stumbled back, away from Ruby. Fresh blood ran from his eye socket and down his face, then his crisp white button down. Marcus dropped to his knees, then to the floor. Ruby’s eyes didn’t move, but her hands found the Exterminators weapon. She wasted no time. She pointed it at the man’s skull. Before she could hesitate she focused on everything he did wrong. He lied to her. He tortured her brother. He kidnapped them. He ruined her body. And she wouldn’t let it happen to anyone else.

And she pulled the trigger.

[pastelsandpining]

Bittersweet

Previous | Next

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

Words: 2112

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

Masterlist

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

______

“Master Link, are you alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you believe they would?”

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

How cruel the deities could be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, of course.”

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

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

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

“I’ll do anything.”

And he meant it.

[mavda]

Beast Tamers

Ch.1 |  Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4(1) | Ch.4(2) |

Ch.5: Becoming a family (1)

Kiba is tired. Not only has he and Shino been working some dumb hours, but now they are tasked with developing new guarding shifts and performing a new check in all the staff working in the clan. They are also on the lookout for a personal guard for Lady Hinata.     Sakura had taken the role of assistant and guard in the meantime, but she is a busy woman and whenever she had had to go away Ino had taken her role. But Ino's technique makes her way more useful as a spy than as a guard, so Kiba wants her out of guarding duty if possible. Shino had tried to relay that information to Naruto, but the man is pissed at life itself and not even Shino's monotone voice and factual spiel helped convince him.     "Find better guards, then," Naruto had barked, and Kiba had to control the need to throw his hands in the air. Easy to say.

   Really easy to say. Especially now that they actually need Ino to go and do her stuff in order to find who sent those attackers. The moment Kiba had told her they had a couple of live intruders they wanted her to check on, she had smirked. A terrifying woman, indeed.     So now, Kiba needs to check everyone and their mothers and look for a guard. And there are not that many good ninjas left in the clan that are free to do guard duty.     So Kiba finally gets the best idea ever. Just grab one of the special unit Naruto had made. Maybe hard for Naruto to agree, but not impossible. Their checks are a thousand percent clean, and they are strong and trained to do guard shit. And then with this maybe Kiba can have some time to take a nap.     Naruto has had a frown since forever now. "That's actually a good idea." He rests his head on his hand, "Sai could actually be a good choice, he's been nagging about wanting to live life normally for a while now."     Kiba understands Sai the least out of anyone. Kiba has trouble understanding Naruto sometimes, but now he doesn't want to think too much, so he just hums in agreement. Whatever, he wants rest.     Naruto ends up convincing himself how this is a good idea, so that's one thing down for Kiba.     "Hey, got anything out of them?"    Kiba feels a shiver run down his spine as he remembers Shino using his bugs to torture the attackers. He still can't get out of his head the unfocused eyes of one of them as Ino peered into their heads.     "Nothing. They were contacted through a third party and the servant that summoned them in killed herself before we could catch her."     Naruto lets out an annoyed scoff and shrugs in defeat. "So we just keep our guard up, nothing new."     Kiba gives him a smirk. Nothing new, indeed.

Naruto still hopes to see Lord Hiashi come into the compound any moment now. Naruto still hopes, somehow, for Hinata's father to at least send an excuse as to why he isn't present in his daughter's marriage ceremony. But since the actual ceremony is being held now, he has to accept that that's not an option anymore.     Naruto enters the private room and sits in front of the priest. His father sits besides him, both as a witness and as a family member. Hinata will have his grandma Mito sit besides her.     Not her father, but his grandmother.     Hinata had been so casual about the whole situation. She had opened her eyes a little due to what Naruto thinks was surprise, but maybe it was just the acceptance of something she already knew. Her reactions can only be because she knew her father would leave her alone. Naruto thought she would be sad for a while, cry, even, but her mute acceptance of this whole thing somehow makes it worse.     Hinata enters a while after, with his grandma Mito close behind. Naruto peeks out the door as it opens and catches a pink head at the end of the corridor. He's immediately more comfortable knowing Sakura is guarding the place.     Not that he doesn't trust Kiba or Shikamaru to do the job, but in terms of brute strenght...    Hinata looks lovely. With a white ceremonial kimono, with her lips bright red and her cheeks slightly colored. She looks like the epitome of femininity.     She walks with small steps and takes a seat right beside Naruto with the most graceful of movements.    The ceremony is short and concise. Naruto had shown remorse before, but Hinata had smiled at him. She understood as well as him that they couldn't have a full venue with guests prancing around the place.     Hinata and Naruto share sake and then they share it with their witnesses. The priest repeats words he knows by heart and ends the ceremony with a blessing, he oversees the signature of the official forms and leaves with a polite bow to the people present.     There is silence and Naruto searches for Hinata's hand when the priest leaves. He squeezes and Hinata gives him a polite smile. His father and his grandma Mito come closer to them and give their own blessings, all whispers and solemnity. Naruto catches Hinata's teary eyes and is worried for a moment that the absence of her father has finally got to her, but she cleans her tears swiftly and gets closer to him, letting her weight fall a little on his shoulder.     Naruto doesn't have it in him to ask her why she cried.

They go their separate ways and reunite in Naruto's bedroom after taking off their ceremonial kimonos.     Their bedroom now.    Naruto is there first, and he takes to the floor as he rubs his hand on his neck. He's nervous, he's anxious. There are some worries he has been able to quell before but now that the time to really commit has come, there is a swirl of thoughts in his head that do not want to leave. He has effectively tied Hinata to the life he's doomed to live.     What an asshole.    Hinata arrives and finds Naruto staring at the floor, lost in thought. He looks at her as she notices the door opening and there is a smile blossoming immediately after. Hinata wants to cry.     They can make this work. They want to make this work, so they'll make this work.     Naruto raises his hand, calling for Hinata to come closer. She closes the door behind her with care and walks to Naruto. Her heart is in her throat and she is so nervous her stomach is turning and twisting in anticipation.     Naruto is wearing the same thin robe as her, and she can make out every sharp angle his body has to offer. Hinata is ashamed to feel herself warming up from the base of her stomach, but there is little she can do when Naruto's tanned arms are right next to her.     Naruto needs to focus his gaze in an unassuming spot in Hinata's thigh. She has her long hair down and the black of it contrasts with the white of her skin and her robe, and the blood in Naruto's body is going directly to his groin. He can't help but think about what they have to do, and although they have to do it sooner or later and he knows she knows that, he can't help the nervousness that's starting to eat at him.     He wants this.     He really does.     "So," Naruto says and his voice comes out shaky and breathy and he has to hide the wince of embarrassment that springs forth, "do you want to start right now or wait a little?" Naruto rushes to add, "We can wait till tomorrow, if you want." His voice is croaky and he feels he needs to drink water, but he thinks letting silence sit between them is a bad idea, so he hangs tight.     Hinata's hands go to her thighs and she plays with her fingers. She presses down on her index finger as she remains silent.     They are too nervous to start and yet eager to touch each other and the tension in the room only grows stronger with time. Hinata clenches her legs as she feels Naruto's warmth reaching her. Naruto makes fists of his hands as Hinata's scent carries over to him.     But he doesn't move. He waits for Hinata to say anything. Whatever it is, whatever she wants, she will have.    Hinata raises her eyes to Naruto's and sees him locking eyes with her thighs. He can't look at her and it's clear he's nervous. His body is tense and he barely blinks as he tries to control himself. And Hinata finds it endearing.     There is a need in her that rises and she moves, still kneeling, towards him. Naruto's chest rises and falls with deep breaths and Hinata feels a shiver run down her spine. She wants this.     She wants him.     Naruto remains silent, and Hinata is the only one moving in the room. Her hand moves to his chest and as soon as her palm comes into contact with Naruto's skin, he breathes out a shaky breath that breaks Hinata's resolve to take it slow.     Hinata dips her head to him and kisses his lips. Naruto opens his mouth immediately and they find each other inside. Soft and warm, with their bodies reacting to this with a heat they know well.     They won't stop this time.     They can't stop. And this knowledge makes Hinata bolder, more eager.    Naruto grabs hold of Hinata's hips and they have to separate to moan at the touch. Their robes barely cover their skins and the heat from their bodies is radiating everywhere. Hinata moves her hand from Naruto's chest to his shoulder, dragging his robe with the movement, she keeps going until Naruto's right side is completely exposed. Hinata's breath is haggard and she can't break free from the sight of his torso.    Naruto's muscles are defined and his skin tone sparkles under the light. His chest rises and falls, and his abdomen tightens with each movement, Hinata is entranced by this and her other hand moves before she can think about it. Her hand reaches Naruto's stomach and her skin looks even whiter against Naruto's.     Naruto falls back and supports himself with his hand. His breaths are getting more and more labored and he can't catch the groan that leaves him when Hinata puts her hand on his stomach. He feels himself getting hard and his whole body is getting goosebumps.     Hinata follows him, and her hands make quick work of Naruto's robe. The garment falls from his shoulders and sits at the floor. Naruto beckons Hinata towards him and he lets   the sleeves fall off as he raises his arms to encircle Hinata's body against him.     Hinata can feel him standing against her stomach, and she buries her face on the crook of his neck, peppering kisses that make him tremble as much as her.     "Hinata," Naruto whines, with a voice full of desire and need. Hinata wishes he wasn't muffled against her shoulder.      Naruto sits straighter to keep himself stable and the movement makes him rub against Hinata, who hugs him harder as she starts rubbing herself against him.     Naruto has to press his head against Hinata as his mouth opens in pleasure. He slumps over, keeping his hands on her, moving them from her back to each side of her hips. Pressing on her. Helping her move against him.     Naruto has trouble thinking and his hips start moving to match Hinata too. He's desperate. And in the movement he falls backwards onto his elbow, earning a yelp from Hinata at the fall. They both lock eyes with each other, disheveled, with shaky breaths and with eyes full of want.     Hinata follows him again and Naruto can't help the moan that escapes him as she straddles him again. It's the fact that she wants this as much as him that undoes him. Hinata places her hands on his stomach and Naruto presses his head to the floor. He groans to the ceiling and his hips move towards Hinata. She squeals at the movement but anchors herself again with his arms. And they find a rhythm that leaves them both gasping for air.     Their moans intertwine in the room and Naruto's hips rise higher as he feels himself getting closer to comming. Hinata braces herself as she feels Naruto  quickening his pace. One hand stays on his stomach while the other is at the floor, helping her keep balance.     Naruto starts groaning from deep inside his chest and he moves his head to catch Hinata's eyes.    She has her eyes closed, with her hair falling in front of her. Her robe is opening with each thrust Naruto makes and her chest bounces and tightens against the clothes.     Naruto grabs her thigh to keep her from moving and raises his hand to her chest. Her chest overflows from his hand and he whines as he squeezes Hinata.     Hinata opens her eyes at the new touch and looks at Naruto, with his chest glistening with sweat, his head turned slightly to the side and his mouth open in pleasure. He frowns as the hand on her thigh digs into her and then he closes his eyes with strenght.     His chest rises and falls and Hinata can feel him moving still, but with less vigor. The hand on his stomach follow his breathing and as Naruto lies there, catching his breath and caressing her body as he comes from his high, Hinata slumps over and starts kissing his chest and abdomen.     "Hinata," Naruto whines as his hands find her bottom and cups her cheeks.    Hinata kisses him wherever she can. Licks places that glisten with sweat making Naruto squirm every now and then. As she moves downward she reaches the robe's belt and she sits upright. Her hand plays with the garment.     "M-may I?"     "Love, you can do whatever you want."    The nickname catches Hinata by surprise, but Naruto looks kind of out of it, so she doesn't think too much about it. Nor about how warm the name made her feel.     She's nervous and she has to breath in and out as she untangles the belt. As it comes undone and Hinata places it besides them, Naruto's robes get loose and Hinata can feel herself blushing as his pelvis is now in clear view.     Naruto is still caressing her thighs and bottom and he stares at her without saying much. Hinata places her hand beneath his stomach and Naruto's breathing hitches. Her movements are slow in part because she's nervous but she's also finding pleasure in Naruto's reaction.     Hinata moves herself lower, to sit at his legs, and she grabs the band of his underwear. There is a wet stain in his garment that Hinata can't help but stare at. Naruto's underwear gets slid up to his thighs as he rises his hips to help Hinata, and then she stares.     And Naruto can't help the blush that creeps up on him and the tingle that travels to his pelvis as his wife stares at him.     Narutos stops a second.     His wife.    Hinata rises her hand and stares at Naruto. His penis rests to the side of his leg, wet and limp, and Hinata touches it with her finger. A single stroke from its head to its base that makes Naruto take a sharp inhale.     "That feels good, but it won't stand for a while."     Hinata looks at Naruto and places her hand on his thigh. "Oh."    Naruto sits up from his place and cocks his head in question, "Can I... undress you?" His robe sits on the floor and the only garment he has on him is the underwear that's halfway down his legs. Hinata hugs herself, self-conscious, and nods.     "Yes."

[dirt-cup-draco]

George x Reader- Don’t Judge a Book

Heyy hope you're doing well 💕 Could u pleease (if you're not too overloaded) do one with George were his family doesn't approve his relationship with the reader but at the battle she saves Fred. Very angst and the end is up to you. Your writing is incredible, be safe

George pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long and steadying breath as you stood before him. Your hands were planted firmly on your hips and you were shaking your head in frustration. 

“I can’t George, you know that,” You refused his proposal, knowing it would only end terribly. You would be made a fool of and you had a hard enough biting your tongue as was. If you couldn’t escape, who knows what you might say. 

“It’s the safest option here love,” George pleaded with you, legs spread and head thrown back as the conversation tired him out. He had just closed up shop for the night with Fred and now he was upstairs, trying to talk sense into you. “Mum said it was perfectly fine if you came and stayed with us,” 

“Molly is lovely but I cannot be under the same roof as your brothers and sister.”

“Fred-” 

“You know he doesn’t count when I generalize,” You sighed, wishing George would see things from your perspective. “The rest of them hate me, I’m just a no good slytherin to them and they will never be able to see past that. Especially right now, I’m going to be put under a microscope that has a broken lens.” 

“They don’t hate you...” George weakly argued but you could see the gears turning in his head as he ran his fingers through his hair- pulling at the roots as if it would somehow make this conversation go away. “Things might be a bit touch and go but they don’t hate you, they could never hate someone I love,” 

“Your mom could never hate someone you love but that means nothing for the rest of them. To the public all slytherins are death eaters, Voldemort’s army consists of only slytherins in their eyes. I might as well have a stamp on my forehead that says ‘Hi! I want to enslave muggles and kill the kids I grew up with!’. It doesn’t matter who I am or what I stand for, your siblings think I’m trouble,” 

George stood abruptly, needing to be close to you. Wrapping his arms around you, you melted in his embrace. He kissed the top of your head and you nuzzled closer against his chest. “I just want you to be safe, and I think home is a good place to be safe,” 

“I won’t stop you from going Georgie, but I think it’s better if I don’t stay at the burrow,” You decided for yourself. You wouldn’t be able to keep your sanity if you had to handle Percy asking you questions about your family, who they were and what they believed in. You’d go just as crazy if you had to feel Ginny and Ron’s eyes burrowing into your head as if they could kill you with a look. 

“I won’t go either,” George tried steeling his voice but you could hear the hesitancy. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you,” 

--

Voldemort and his army surrounded Hogwarts as they all tried to bring down the protective shield that had fallen around the school. You jumped when a particularly powerful spell ricocheted off the invisible barrier. George’s arm tightened around you and you squeezed him in response. 

I’m scared. You tried to convey as you looked to him with wide and wondering eyes. You had to memorize every freckle, every wrinkle. You had to memorize the color of his eyes and the way his hair went every which way. In case something happened, you wanted to die remembering every feature of George Weasley, you wanted to die remembering how he made you feel. 

Me too. His sad expression spoke back to you and he kissed your forehead, lingering there. In case anything happened he needed you to know that he loved you and would love you forever until the end of time. Even death couldn’t put an end to his feelings for you. 

“See you both on the other side,” Fred spoke, subdued yet intense. 

I hope.

--

Your eyes burned with exhaustion and the constant threat of tears as you looked at the people you had known and loved falling down around you. The carnage and destruction seemed endless as you wildly searched for George. You had been planning to stay close but it was hard to stick to a plan during a time of war and you had inevitably been separated.  You had to stay strong and find him. 

You caught a flash of red hair in the distance and you picked up your pace, jumping over debris and dodging spells. You nearly fell when a spell was sent your way and you had to stop in your tracks and duck behind a large piece of wall that had been blown free from the castle. 

Poking your head out from the stone shield you had found cover behind you were relieved to see that the Weasley was still in place. You couldn’t quite see who it was yet but any of them would bring you comfort at this point. You’d even let Ron pick a fight with you so long as it made you feel normal.

Once the coast was clear you were back to running through the grounds that had once been so peaceful. The closer you got, the more you assumed it was George that stood back against the wall, wand at the ready. Yet you realized a moment later that it was Fred. The part of his hair was different, they set of his jaw and the way he held his wand. You felt relief at the sight of your boyfriend’s twin but it quickly vanished from your system and you were choked out by dread. 

“Fred!” You hollered, your legs carrying you faster than they ever had before. 

Ginny was some odd yards away and she watched with suspicion as you chased after her brother. “Fred! Watch out!” She called, wand at the ready as she took aim towards you. The light burst from the tip of her wand but the spell was unsuccessful as you jumped, propelling yourself forward to avoid the spell and reach Fred in time. 

 The man whipped his head around at the chorus of his name, a question on his lips as you collided with him, sending you both sprawling across the pavement as you wrapped your arms around Fred, the momentum sending him on top of you. An explosion burst above the both of you, pebbles and rocks raining down on you as you rolled away from the majority of the wall that had broken apart. 

The back of your skull came in contact with the cobble and you had to blink away the shadows that were rushing into your vision. Fred’s weight was uncomfortable on top of you and you groaned, shoving at him weakly. 

“God Freddie, lay off the chocolate frogs,” You jested at the same time he uttered, “You’re bleeding,” 

Fred helped you into a sitting position, his fingers searching the back of your head, coming away wet with the crimson liquid. You felt maybe a little dizzy, somewhat nauseous but fine otherwise. It was the sight of blood however, the knowledge that it was yours, that sent your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you slumped into Fred’s waiting arms. 

--

The battle had ended and George was rushing around like a chicken with their head cut off. He hadn’t seen you or any of his family members in some time and panic had a vise grip on his heart. Ginny and his mother were the first he saw, waiting at the entrance to the school with dazed expressions. It was difficult to process what they had just been through, what they had achieved and what they had lost. 

Ginny looked at George with guilt swirling in her stomach even if he didn’t recognize it. She feared how he would feel about her if he were to learn she had nearly cost Fred and Y/N their lives because of a prejudice that ran deeper than she had believed. If her spell had hit Y/N, they would both be crushed underneath a slab of wall right now. He couldn’t know. 

George looked them over quickly as he approached and deemed them fine. “Where is she?” Was the first question falling from his lips and Ginny couldn’t seem to get the words out. Molly however was thinking quickly, unaware of her daughter’s thoughts. 

“Your brother- Freddie knows where she is love, they were together,” 

George nodded, kissing her temple and pulling Ginny into a quick hug before he followed his mother’s directions to find you. His stomach churned when he found those directions had sent his feet to the area where the wounded were being attended to, the dead being covered in white sheets. 

“Are you wounded?” Came a meek voice and George had to shake himself from his intrusive thoughts to realize that Luna Lovegood was standing before him, hair tied up and a focused look hardening her typically whimsical features. 

“N-No, I’m looking for-” 

“Your brother is this way,” She assumed as she took a hold of his arm, assuming he needed the assistance. George looked a little lost and he had paled severely since entering the room, taking in all of the moaning and groaning bodies. 

He let her guide him but broke free when he found his brother sitting on the floor, your hand in his. You were on a makeshift cot, a bandage wrapped around your head. Your eyes were closed, skin ashen. “Y/N-” He choked out, falling to his knees beside you. Fred gripped his shoulder with his free hand, sliding out of the way so that George could grasp your limp hand in his own.

“She’s fine mate,” Fred said first. “Bumped her head, just needs rest now that the bleeding’s stopped.” 

“Bleeding?” George croaked, careful hands shaking as he trailed a finger across the outline of your jaw. Even now you looked angelic, with debris stuck to the palm of your hands and dust smeared across your forehead like your very own war paint. 

“She’s fine George,” Fred promised again. 

“How did she get hurt?” George asked, tearing his eyes from you to face his twin.

Fred winced, shoulders drawn up to his ears apologetically. “Savin’ me. I didn’t notice- well I don’t really know what I didn’t notice. Y/N called out my name, then Ginny. Then Y/N was barreling into me and we hit the ground hard. A second later the wall was collapsing onto where I’d been standing,” 

George smiled, kissing your forehead as his family spotted all of you, approaching with relieved smiles. “That’s my girl,” He praised. 

“Fred!” Ginny found her voice. “Is she okay?” 

Fred watched Ginny for a moment, putting together quite easily what had happened. He’d never liked slytherins, detested them the same as any good gryffindor did. But then George had introduced you to him and his feelings had started changing. It didn’t seem the same thing had occurred with his siblings and they still had their beliefs against you. Ginny had thought him in danger, thought you had come to hurt him when in fact it had been the opposite. He could see the guilt swimming in her eyes and he felt pity. He couldn’t let his sister hold that weight over her head. “She will be,” He reassured. 

George recounted the story of your heroics to his family even if he hadn’t been there and he hoped it would be enough to win your good favor. He refused to leave your side as you lay there, unaware that all of the Weasleys were standing around you and silently thanking you for saving Fred even at the threat of risking your own safety. You had proven a lot to them. George wished it hadn’t come with such a risk, he would always hold your safety above his family’s approval, but he tried to focus on the fact that you were just unconscious. You were just resting, he told himself as the thought was more comforting than the former.

Fred looked from his brother, then to you, and back to Ginny. “Everything’s alright, Gin,” He made sure she knew as he drew her into a hug, staring over her shoulder as he watched his brother fuss over you. “Just...don’t judge a book by it’s cover next time,”

For years to come you would be celebrated as Fred’s savior and loved as family, George having asked you to marry him the second you opened your eyes, still surrounded by the ruins of Hogwarts. Seeing his family surrounding you, a new appreciation in their eyes, you’d said yes. 

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