#convinced she touched the world and succeeded only in hurting it... there he was.
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fridging more often than not has the opposite effect on me because I'm too mad about the women in the story being done dirty to care about the supposed emotional impact of their deaths. but man. when time travel (PLLF) hits it hits.
#professor layton#he just got promoted they were finally settling down for real he was going to PROPOSE#she was caught up in something so much bigger than her and had to see the devastating impact of her actions after she was gone#and knowing full well her days were numbered she did everything in her power to put things right#and in the catastrophic wake of their failed experiment and the chain of vengeance and grief and cruelty it caused#convinced she touched the world and succeeded only in hurting it... there he was.#his every good did an extension of who you were to him (he really did take awfully good care of that hat)#PUNCHING A WALL. FUCK.#HER ACTIONS POST TIME JUMP MAKE HER SUCH A FASCINATING CHARACTER. PRECISELY BECAUSE SHE IS DOOMED AND AWARE OF IT#GODDAMIT#i wanted to see more of her fuckignfngjd#i don't want to say goodbye to you again I can't I won't [explodes into a fucking
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Someone asked me for reader sitting on abby’s face, but I deleted by accident. Sorry, babe, here you are. Hope you enjoy it.
Since Abby took interest on you, she’s been looking around more about how it could work out. I mean, the girl has only been with one man her whole life and, well… She wishes she could do better for you.
First times she misses a lot of things and was a little bit lost, but over the time she got her shit together and learned how fucking awesome it feels when you come on her tongue and fingers (and how amazing was to have someone who cares about her pleasure)
She also learns how much you like riding her thigh, caressing her arms and breasts and how you loved when she used a little of her strength to press you against the bed (she also fucking loved using it against you when you try to pull away from her when you’re close to cum – she wont fucking let you, of course, she will suck and lick you clit until your out of breath, thank you very much)
But after months of being together, Abby can’t erase something she read in a random magazine while patrolling one day.
“I’ve aways wondered when men ask us to sit on their face if they meant sit or hover.”
It was one of those old magazines with extremely muscular shirtless man on the cover, with weird topics Abby didn’t really understand about (she’s currently trying to survive in an apocalypse world, who fucking cares if man liked lace bras or not?)
Thing is, how do you approach your girlfriend and politely ask: “I’d like you to sit on my face”?
“Babe, have you ever wanted to try something different?” is the best she was able to afford
And you were confused because it’s Abby we’re talking about. Different as in patrols? Strategies? For your free time? Are you both going to talk about what would you do if you were living in a safe and normal world? You don’t know.
“I’ve been thinking of you sitting on my face.”
Okay, it wasn’t about patrols.
“Sit? Like, you laying down and I sit? Are you crazy, Abby? I could suffocate you.”
Abby was a woman in a mission. This mission being convincing you that you’re not going to kill her – and even if she died, she’d die as a happy woman.
And that’s how she found herself in the currently situation.
You could see her in her cargo pants and sports bra, laying on the bed while waiting for you. Honestly, you wonder how she succeeded to convince you. But the thing is that you can’t really deny Abby anything when she hugs you from behind with her hand on your hips and stomach while she kisses and whispers in your ear how good she could make you feel. How proud she would be of you.
Touching her arm softly to show her you were ready, her eyes swallowed your naked form and she licked her lips with desire. Her strong hands started to pull you against her and she caught your lips on hers.
Abby’s kisses always drives you wild. You’ve always thought she would always have the roughest kisses, but she could do so much more than that. Abby could be fucking sensual when exploring your mouth, playing with your tongue, teasing you, pressing you against her while using her hands to caress your nape. You could only melt in the hot volcano that was Abigail Anderson.
She softly let go of you and guided your body to sit on he stomach. Her callous hands making their way from your hips to your boobs, where she started massaging them and using the thumb to play with your already hard nipples.
“Fuck, babe. You look so fucking good.”
You let a little whimper out and put your hand on top of hers, making her squeeze your breasts a little tighter, causing her to groan.
“C’mon, pretty girl. Get up here for me.”
To say you were scared would've been an understatement, but you trusted Abby and you trusted you loved her enough to notice if she was uncomfortable. Slowly, trying not to hurt her, you positioned yourself on her head. You couldn’t deny how shy and excited you were and how your pussy clenched when she called you ‘pretty girl’.
“That’s right, babe. Can I touch you now?”
God, she was always like this. Making you all hot and bothered with her smooth voice, praising you and then asking for your permission as if you were going to say no. In the moment you allowed her, her hands went to the top of your thighs, pulling you toward her wanting mouth.
She gave short kisses in your thighs and pussy, enjoying how your breathing was starting to get out of pace, distracting you. When you less expected, Abby gave you a long lick from your needy hole to your pulsing clit. As a simple reaction, you tried to lift your body a little, but Abby was having nothing of that. She had you as a fucking feast in front of her face, all wet and tight, ready for her to feed. She’d make you ride her face until you couldn’t think about anything else but rubbing your hot cunt against her and cum like her pretty little slut.
“Don’t hover, sweet girl. Sit. Wanna fucking taste you. You gonna be good for me, yeah?”
Oh, God, yes, you were going to be good for Abby, you needed to be good for Abby.
That was your last coherent thought before doing what she asked you to. Before she uses her strong hands to hold you against her face, suck and lick you pussy like a starved woman.
#abby x reader#abby anderson x reader#abby x you#abby anderson x you#abigail anderson#abby anderson#my writing#tlou2 smut
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Glimpse of Us
Summary: Severus Snape's attempt at pushing Hermione Granger away did not lead to the outcome he had wished for.
A story about second chances, spiritual healing and the difficulties which trauma can bring upon a couple.
Link to Ao3
| Ch. 2 | - | Ch. 3 |
Chapter 1
He watched her laughing, while one of the Ministry officials twirled her around.
Her brown – usually wild - mane cascaded down her back in soft waves and her elegant body was clad in a beautiful red dress, which embraced her beautifully. He was close enough to hear the laughter leaving her lips; the air carried it to his ears. He closed his eyes, imagining the freckles on her nose, and her smiling doe eyes fixed on him; trying to coax a smile from him, in order to join her playful banter. He could still remember her scent, her softness, her intelligent way of challenging him, and the feeling of being the focus of her attention. She had been willing to accept him with all his flaws and he had let her down. He opened his eyes again, his black eyes meeting the ones he had just imagined across the room. Her joyfulness had vanished and been replaced by a curious yet hurt expression.
Did she know he was suffering just as much as she was, if not more? She had suspected he was hurting himself by distancing himself from her, so she had told him a year ago when he was pushing her away for her own good. Hermione Granger had looked straight through him, although he had put on a convincing show. The words she had left with him a year ago followed him to this day:
“Severus Snape, you are a fool if you think I’m not seeing what you’re doing! You know what is the worst part about your masochistic tendencies? That you are willing to hurt the people you care for, in order to punish yourself! I’m not even sure what weights heavier – your self-preservation that makes you fear I’m a danger to you, or your self-depreciating thoughts. You deserve better… and so do I.”
Those words had been followed by weekly letters from her, to which he had not replied. He had ignored her as if she were a nuisance to him – which she, admittedly, was when she made his efforts to forget her difficult. He had treated her abysmally and did not lie to himself about it.
He missed her – bitterly. Nothing had managed to change his feelings for her, although he never was counting on succeeding in forgetting her. He had not pushed her away because he hated himself, despite her assumption. He had let her go because he loved her. He did not think worse of himself, than he actually was, but he had no illusions of grandeur. Hermione deserved someone who was not only willing to make her happy, but who had a chance of actually accomplishing it. He had made her cry so many times, that he could not bear his own incapability any longer. He had not been willing to make her suffer, despite his egoistical ambitions, and if he was honest to himself, he had not wanted to make himself vulnerable. The constant worry of her potentially leaving him made him leave her first.
The beautiful young genius of a woman started walking in his direction, her face – open like a book – telling the world of her uncertainty. A hand on his arm drew his attention away from her approaching form; his head swinging to the side, making him face Genevieve. Her green eyes glittered lovingly up to him, her free hand brushing dark brown straight hair behind her ear. She had approached him a few months ago at a Potion Master Congress and he had let her. He had been honest with her, never leading her on, and she had been appreciative of it but hopeful of a potential future together, nevertheless. At one point he had tried to convince himself that he was over Hermione, trying to find in Genevieve what he had with the wild-haired stubborn woman he had left, failing miserably. The woman touching him was perfect – caring, strikingly beautiful, smart, humorous, and ambitious, but she was not Hermione. Despite knowing that Genevieve was more than he deserved, and not understanding how she could show any interest in him, he always ended up comparing her to his former student. Having taken notice of whom was taking the liberty of touching his person, he immediately looked back to the witch who had been haunting him for years. She had stopped walking towards him, her face not speaking of insecurity any longer, but understanding, sorrow, and an attempt of seizing control. She was blinking rapidly, trying to process what was going on. Something in Severus screamed. He wanted to shake her, explain that she was the only one present in his mind at all times – even when he did not desire to have her there. He felt the need to pull her to his chest, enclose her in his arms, and follow his desire of making her his. Did she not know that he was trying to find her in every woman? In every place? In every piece of art? In every book he picked up, daringly trying to finally read it through without losing focus? Of course, she did not, although he knew from her letters that she had experienced the same. Her persistent writing had come to a halt two months ago, making him wonder if she had given up on him. Although his goal had been exactly that, he had ended up being terrified by the thought.
“Is that her?” The soft voice of the woman beside him asked. It took him a moment to respond with a clipped nod. The empathic witch seemed hesitant but pressed a lingering kiss on his cheek, which tightened his jaw. Her forehead found the spot where she had kissed him before. “Go speak to her.” He stood silent, not sure how to react to such words leaving her. His black eyes, which Genevieve had become fond of, searched her beautiful dark green ones. His uncertainty led her to enforce the encouragement. “As much as I wish I could persuade your innermost being to desire nothing and no one but me, I know that it is not in my power to do so. We talked about this before and I think we reached the point at which we have to admit to ourselves that we exhausted our potential as a”, she sighed, “couple.”
“I am not going to watch you destroy yourself and that woman, who looked at you, as if someone was about to rip her to shreds.“ The wizard scowled, unsure how to proceed. “We will talk once the time comes.” Her nudging him was answered with a look to the ground and an implied nod. When he raised his eyes once more, she was gone. He forced himself to focus on what was relevant now, searching for Hermione who was not standing where she had been before either. Locating her, to his relief, turned out to be easy. Her red dress and curly hair helped him to find her. She was nearing the doors to the terrace, probably hoping to regain a clear head by capturing some fresh night air. Confident strides lead him through the ball room, the people surrounding him completely unaware, absorbed in their conversations.
He decided to follow her, not because he was incapable of controlling himself any longer – that was not the case – but rather because he made the conscious decision, that it made no sense to sabotage their lives any longer. Hermione’s loyalty to him had never wavered, and other men did not seem to interest her - or so he had heard from Minerva, who had let him know of Ginevra Potter’s unsuccessful attempts of pushing her friend to go on blind dates. He had pretended that he had no interest in the gossip, but the feelings he had to occlude did not leave him cold. He sighed, came to a halt, and massaged the bridge of his nose. He had made countless mistakes throughout his life, but he hoped to be able to remedy the tremendous one he had made by ignoring the brilliant witch, who was standing on the other side of the glass door he was facing.
#severus snape#hermione granger#snanger#snamione#sevmione#fanfiction#fandom#sshg#writing#harry potter#wizarding world#romance#spirituality#religion#growth
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How did Esther (The Secret) first begin to channel?
Jerry had a lot of questions about life in his head.
Jerry was later dubbed "The World's Greatest Questioner" by Abraham.
How did Esther from the documentary movie the secret first begin to channel?
To summarize, a channel revealed Jerry and Esther's status as channels to them. The channel gave them instructions to meditate in order to activate their ability to channel. Because they had never meditated before, Jerry and Esther were both surprised by this.
This is an illustration of how you should apply the method to support your argument.
First, put what you want people to know into your own words in a clear, concise message. Being written in their language, this will be simpler to understand. I'm not referring to the painful kind, either!
She was unaware of it. Nevertheless, they both started to meditate… Esther experienced what she described as "pure delight" the moment she began to meditate.
She had the impression that something else had moved into her body and mind. She improved at channeling, learning to type on a typewriter, type words with her nose, and receive ideas in sequences.
Jerry posed questions to Abraham, and he responded to each one. It was amazing, but "Esther" vowed to Jerry not to tell anyone.
Esther and Jerry have been traveling internationally since 1986, giving seminars in 60 different cities each year.
Jerry passed away in 2013. Esther concentrates only on "going and getting Abraham" during the seminars. Once allowed into her mind, they usually address the audience for about 20 minutes.
They allow questions from the audience from a hot seat in front of them for the next several hours. Celebrities like Dr. Wayne Dyer and actress Minnie Driver have sat in the hot seat. Earlier this year, Oprah spoke with Esther while Abraham appeared on her show (2017).
Take into account the fact that their teachings contain a lot of "secrets"… Take a look at some of their "mysterious" directives…
Your Extension of Source Energy is the First Secret Teaching.
This is a hotly contested subject! You are a physical body's source of energy. You are a part of God, as Dr. Dyer once said. Do you think this is accurate?
What if it were accurate?
If you learned this to be true, how would your life change? The majority of us mistakenly believe that we are weak human beings. Most of us experience less energy than God or the universe. And the majority of us rely heavily on our own energy sources because we feel inferior to others. But in accordance with Abraham's teachings…
On the other hand, this isn't consistent with the ethical principles that they preach. "You are God in man's eyes," they say of all people. And they assert that rather than the other way around, we are the spiritual world's leading edge.
Think about this idea for a moment… What if others succeeded in convincing us that we are inferior and insufficient for a reason? And what if that cause was to maintain order among us? But how is it possible that I am a part of God, you may be asking.
Why am I not God or a source of more amazing things? The response to this query is quite intricate. But this is the condensed version…
Your perspective on what is realistic may help or hurt you. Since we were young children, our society has conditioned us to believe in our limitations. Our educational system and social environment instilled in us the notion that we lacked potential.
If we didn't perform well on a test, our instructors would make us feel foolish. If we were slow, they added, we weren't quick enough.
Throughout our childhood, we picked up a lot of self-limiting beliefs. As a result, we acquired a number of self-limiting notions that keep us from being who we really are.
Beliefs have great power.
Henry Ford said, "Whether you think you can or cannot, you're correct. Napoleon Hill said, "Whatever your mind can imagine and believe, is achievable."
This idea might seem hard to believe, so take a closer look into it for yourself.
Abraham touches on a broad subject.
The Christian Bible has given hints that you are a manifestation of source energy.
According to one verse, you can move mountains if you have a belief as small as a mustard seed.
Another verse claims that you already possess the Kingdom of God.
Yet why?
The answer can be found in a comment made by someone else that reads, "The Kingdom of God resides within you."
Secret Teaching #2: Your Inner Being and Internal Guidance
You are aware that doctors will try their best to cure you. And once more, you are aware of this fact to some extent.
Experts in mental performance use the term intuition.
They won't explain what it is or how it works to you.
They are clueless.
They simply understand that their customers are in the best position to decide what is best for them.
They do not know what they are expected to do. They simply understand that it is not their job to advise clients, but rather to persuade them to use their logic.
It's a skill that comes naturally and is also referred to as "gut instinct."
It is also referred to as your soul, your higher self, or your heart.
Let's check to see if this is true in your own life. Have you ever been aware of something without being aware of it?
Suppose you have a business partner. And let's assume that they approach you with ideas for improving the business.
They make a suggestion, but it doesn't feel right to you.
You try the idea despite knowing it won't work and is bad advice because you don't want to offend your business partner.
Trust your instincts. Later, however, the advice is unsuccessful. This fails. You knew it wouldn't work right away because of your intuition. You were fully conscious of it. But you nevertheless agreed to it…
Abraham claims that is your inner self speaking to you.
Now working is the internal guidance system.
Abraham refers to your inner-being as your intuition. Abraham claims that the true you is your inner being, the aspect of you that is all-knowing.
It involves locating the other aspect of yourself that is aware of who you are and supports you as you navigate your emotions. Your emotions are a channel through which your inner self speaks to you. There are many secrets, this is just one.
This indicates that what you're thinking isn't supported by your inner self. Nothing you are thinking makes sense. And you're in tune with your inner self when you're feeling great.
An emotional scale is used by the internal guidance system. The emotional scale reveals how disconnected you are from your inner self.
This scale's starting point is:
calmness of mind
enlightenment
love
joy
passion
and descends all the way to…
guilt
regret
depression
You are further away from your inner being's beliefs as you move down the list. According to Abraham, your inner being knows everything you desire. It also knows how to take the least difficult route to get you there.
If true, isn't it wonderful?
And doesn't that encourage you to give it a try?
The wonderful aspect is that you get better results the more you listen to your inner voice. Alternatively put.
By closing your mind during meditation, you might receive messages.
Your inner self is the source of these signals. But among other things, it will also guide you through traffic or prompt you to call someone at the appropriate time.
The energies of the universe are there to help you be, do, and have everything you want. Many teachers of the laws of attraction overlook this crucial element…
Think about yet another saying attributed to Abraham.
The third hidden lesson is that everything vibrates.
Napoleon Hill talks about a "mysterious" secret in Think and Grow Rich. Researchers believe that by enclosing the Secret inside the book, he intended it to serve as a catalyst for more spiritual thinking. Merritt Mathis, my father, used to read this particular book. It's a wonderful tale, and every time I think of it, I fall in love all over again.
He claimed to have never learned the Secret.
It was confusing.
He searched for it but was unable to locate it. He later discovered an unaltered copy of Think and Grew Rich. He found what he discovered to be fascinating.
The word "vibration" appeared 37 times in the original, but not in the published version. Additionally, the edited version lost about 100 pages… In other words, a significant fact is not disclosed in the book's public edition.
The key lay in vibration.
Abraham's teachings on vibration are among the most significant ones. One of Abe's main lessons is about vibrations. Without going into too much detail, this theory is supported by experiments in quantum physics. One illustration is the "Observer Effect". Another involves an investigation of entangled particles.
Although the science behind these topics is amazing, it would be impossible to cover it in detail in this post.
Abraham teaches that everything vibrates and is made up of energy.
We live in a universe of vibration. We interpret vibration using our senses of smell, touch, sight, hearing, and taste.
It's possible that we are so skilled at interpreting vibration that we are blind to it! The intriguing lesson they impart is that our thoughts and emotions are vibrational as well.
We can use the law of attraction to attract anything we want into our lives. We only need to ask, and it will be given to us… Using the law of attraction, we can draw anything we want.
All you need to know about this vast subject is that feeling good is crucial. When you feel good, your vibration increases.
When you raise your vibration, you attract the people, situations, and events into your life that you want.
All there is to it is that.
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Curse Her (No Really)
So that’s the look i imagine is on Loki’s face when he’s like “Can’t know what?” Anyways I had this idea yesterday after thinking about how I grew into an allergy to acrylic. It started off as an idea to grow into an allergy to gold but then i was like NO what if Amora cursed you instead and just ran with it lol Also Uno is totally the Monopoly of card games, I play it with my friends online and there is constant back stabbing and yelling 😂
P.S. I nearly said pus-y but spelled it as pu$$y and just barely caught it holy cow that could have been bad 🤣
Summary: Amora curses you so you can’t wear gold anymore, the metal being Loki’s favorite type of jewelry to gift you and see you wear with pride. You don’t want to tell him because you’re strong and independent and can figure this out without him, right?
In hindsight you should have seen this coming, honestly.
You sit in the lab with Tony, you on his table, your legs dangling, and Tony in his seat looking over the holoscreen in front of him with a frown. Bruce is out of town being the humanitarian he is so Tony is left with the job of running scans on those who are affected in battle. You’re just lucky Loki joined the team and helped Tony and Bruce make machines that can scan magic.
“She cast a spell so you can’t wear gold anymore?” Tony says, his frown deepening. “That’s...a stupid curse.” Tony says looking a bit bewildered.
You let out a bitter chuckle. “She’s jealous that Loki is with me and knows that he loves to gift his sweethearts gold jewelry,” You tell the genius with a roll of your eyes. You look at the ground and sigh. “I suppose I should keep this a secret because if Loki finds out he’ll hunt down Amora and attack her. The last thing I want is Amora teasing me for not being able to fight my own fights.”
“That is a horrible idea,” Tony pips up looking at you sympathetically. “However, as the resident, number one placeholder of bad ideas, I say do exactly that if you’re really that turned off by some teasing.” Tony says, half heartedly trying to convince you to not follow through with this plan but knowing he failed by the pinched look on your face.
It only takes two days. Two. For Loki to realize you’re not wearing his jewelry.
You’re lucky he realizes while in the middle of a team bonding activity, card games.
“Darling, where’s your necklace?” Loki asks lightly as he watches Steve put down a reverse card so instead of being Clint’s turn it’s Tony’s. Clint responds by calling Steve a buttface causing Steve to laugh out of shock.
Your eyes flick over to Tony’s, whose eyes meet yours for a second before you’re both looking at the cards on the floor again. You don’t notice it but Loki definitely noticed the look you both shared but chooses to ignore it.
“I’m letting it soak, it needed to be cleaned and polished.” You easily slip the lie out of your lips. When you look at Loki you’re lucky he isn’t looking at you at first because he can usually read your lies. As he skims his eyes back over to you you let a soft smile slide over your lips to which the god answers with a tilt of his lips.
When he looks away you swallow, Tony catching your eyes and raising his eyebrows.
Tell him. Tony’s eyes flash.
Not right now! You push back through your eyes and a small shake of your head.
Tony rolls his eyes and that’s the end of that silent conversation.
The subject isn’t brought up again until the fourth day.
You know Loki has definitely caught on to the fact that you stay in Tony’s lab a lot recently but you’re thankful he doesn’t ask questions about it.
“Where are your rings?” Loki outright asks, grabbing your hand and rubbing over your fingers with his thumb, his face in a slight frown as he looks at your bare hands. He notes that you wear silver bangles instead of your usual gold.
You both are getting ready for a press release about Amora’s attack and usually you love to flash your jewelry to the public, as if yelling from the roof tops that Loki is yours when you’re adorned in his colors and gifts.
“I, uh, lost them,” You mutter out, playing it up and acting ashamed with your flushed cheeks and pulling your hand from Loki’s to hug yourself. “I’m sorry, I’ll find them though.” You bite your lip looking at Loki’s face. The god smiles tenderly and brings his hand up to caress at your jaw.
“It is fine. I will help you look for them when we have the time.” Loki tells you, his hand falling from your face to grab your hand and lead you from the room.
You totally miss the disappointed frown that passes over Loki’s face as you pass the dresser in the room and he sees the rings laying there.
By the sixth day Loki hasn’t said anything else about your missing jewelry. However, yesterday, a day after the press release, Loki had left your rings on your night stand without another word about them.
You can tell Loki is pulling from you, putting up walls that you had worked so hard to demolish. He seems more standoffish and irritated now if his scathing remarks to the team are a tell. You really should just tell him what’s going on but you’re stubborn.
Today, you sit with Tony in the lab hoping he’ll find a way to make this stupid curse just disappear. While you could wear the gold it would leave you with a noticeable rash within a few hours and if worn long enough pockets of pus appear. If Loki noticed that he would start asking questions you can’t, or rather don’t want to, answer
“I think we need to tell him, I’m honestly lost,” Tony says swiveling in his chair to look at you. “Magic isn’t my forte, it’s Loki’s.” He explains as if you don’t know that.
“Tony, Amora will never let me live this down. She will always belittle me for being weak and having to ask for help to figure this out.”
“Technically you’ve already asked for help...” Tony points out hesitantly.
“This is different. She will call me dependent on Loki, like I wasn’t a threat before he came along and I’m his little damsel in distress,” You say letting out a frustrated growl and covering your face with your hands. “I don’t know how to explain what I mean, ok, I just can’t tell Loki.”
“Uh...” Is all Tony says as you failed to notice someone else came into the lab.
“Look, I love Loki but he can’t know.” You say with finality, letting your hands drop.
“Loki can’t know what, exactly?” Loki asks in a smooth but dangerously low tone.
You gasp, jumping a little in your spot on Tony’s work table. Your eyes are wide as saucers and you’re sure you can feel the blood from your face leave.
Loki stands a few feet away with his arms crossed and a pissed look on his face.
The room is incredibly silent, the tension able to be cut with a dull butter knife. You’re lucky Tony comes to save you.
Tony sighs, brings a hand up to rub through his hair and looks at Loki with a grimace as if dreading to tell Loki a, false, secret.
Wow he was a great actor, shouldn’t be surprising considering he grew up under the paparazzi’s thumb but to see it in action? It’s shocking.
“She wants me to build her some armor. Says she feels inadequate next to all of us since she doesn’t have powers or anything cool other than pistols.” Tony, falsely, admits.
Loki frowns at Tony before his eyes slide over to you looking to see if Tony speaks the truth. You quickly make yourself believe Tony’s lie, putting on your brave face as you look at the God of Lies in the eyes.
You know you’ve succeeded because Loki drops his arms and walks over to you. Tony moves away to tinker with something else in his lab, giving you both space, and quickly flicking the holoscreen he had been looking at away before Loki gets a close look at it and it reveals your secret.
Loki spreads your knees so he may stand between your legs and brings a hand up to grip your chin and make you look up at him.
“You will never be inadequate. You deserve a spot on this team, powers or not. You are a formidable warrior and I’m honored to be able to fight by your side,” Loki tells you, his voice strong and confident, his eyes filled with love. “Why would you hide this from me?” He then whispers, his eyebrows stitched together in a hurt look.
You swallow the lump in your throat and consider telling Loki the truth as you look into his eyes and see how much he truly loves you. How much it hurts him to know you’ve been lying to his face.
“I-”
Suddenly the tower’s klaxons are roaring to life and causing the moment to be broken. You, Loki, and Tony stand at attention.
“Sir, Amora has breeched your defenses, she is fighting Mr. Rogers and Odinson on floor 84. I believe they have it handled though.” Jarvis supplies you all.
You and Loki quickly make your way to the floor, Tony lagging behind to put on his suit.
When you get there Steve and Thor have Amora bound with magic resistant cuffs as she kneels on the ground between them. When she sees you her eyes light up at the fact you are without any jewelry and gives a dark laugh.
“You haven’t rid yourself of my curse? I figured Loki would break it within 24 hours. You’re losing your touch aren’t you, mage?” Amora says looking over to Loki with a perfectly coiffed eyebrow raised in question.
Loki looks over to you with confusion on his face and you sigh. Of course the bitch had to ruin everything you’ve been avoiding.
“Oh,” Amora says, her face slack with shock. Then it splits into an evil grin. “He doesn’t know?”
You glance at Loki who is looking between the two of you with avid interest. Steve and Thor look confused as well. Tony’s suit clanks over to Amora and slaps a magic resistant gag over her mouth, giving you a look that tells you you need to tell Loki everything, now.
Steve, Thor and Tony leave with Amora leaving you in the silent room with a very confused Loki.
“What does she speak of?” Loki finally asks when you refuse to give him anything as you stand there looking at the ground like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “You’re cursed?” Loki asks, concern laced in his words causing you to feel worse.
You let a tear drop from your eye, blowing out a deep breath and looking at Loki.
“She cursed me so I can’t wear gold without getting a bad rash and pus pockets.” You let the words tumble out of your lips, a small hiccup coming out of your mouth at the end of the sentence.
Loki frowns at you, obviously wanting to comfort you but doesn’t reach for you yet. “That is why you haven’t been wearing my jewelry?” Loki asks for confirmation.
You nod, bringing a hand up to wipe at your tears.
You don’t expect it but Loki quickly envelops you into his arms in a crushing hug. One hand holding your head to his chest, the other rubbing over your back. His body relaxing into yours as if relieved.
“You’re not mad?” You ask the god shakily, your words hitting his chest as puffs of air from your mouth. You bring your arms up and hug Loki back.
“Darling, I thought you had grown tired of me, that you were slipping from my grasps, that you were going to ask to split any day now.” Loki says into your hair where he litters kisses. “I thought you had fallen for Tony.” Loki explains his own voice wavering a bit at the confession.
“What,” You say shocked, your arms squeezing Loki tighter at the realization of the hurt you put Loki through this past week, “No, never, Tony is my friend. I just didn’t want to have to be saved by you all the time. I don’t want to be your damsel in distress. I want us both to be dependent but also independent, that’s all.” You explain into Loki’s chest, your body now shaking with the emotions that overwhelm you.
Loki lets out a relieved laugh, pulling away just enough so he may look down at you. “You will never be a damsel in distress, with need of my help or not. I told you, you are formidable on your own, a warrior with a brave spirit.”
Suddenly you feel really stupid. Amora had gotten inside your head and screwed everything up. Loki was right, as he usually is.
You let out a shaky laugh. “Can you please break this curse so I can wear your jewelry again? I miss it, a lot.” You ask of Loki who only smiles at you fondly and nods.
“Of course, darling.”
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Do You Want the Knife You Left In My Back, or Can I Keep It?
Rating: Teen and up, Gen
An injured Hunter wanders into Hexside. What was Luz supposed to do, just let him bleed out on the floor?
Ch1/?: Backstabber
Ao3
“The human must be truly formidable if the Emperor sent both of us to capture her.”
Hunter glanced back at Kikimora. “Nah, he was probably just worried that you’d mess it up, so he sent me to make sure it went smoothly.”
Kikimora studied her claws. “I know it was you that attacked me when I tried to bring the palisman to the Emperor. You and the human.”
Hunter whipped around. “Oh, do you want to talk about that now? Because I know that you knocked my airship out of the sky and tried to have me killed. So you have nothing on me. You tell the Emperor what I did, I tell him what you did.”
“The human really must be formidable if she managed to get the palisman from you.”
Hunter rolled his eyes behind his mask. “She’s really not. I was a little bit busy fighting you to worry about her.”
“Truly a strong foe,” Kikimora continued, “So strong she was able to overcome you.”
“What are you talking ab—”
A blast of magic hit him, and magical bonds snaked around his hands and feet, yanking on him and sending him to his knees. Hunter struggled and tugged against the ties, but they held firm. “HEY! Kikimora, what—”
Something sharp touched his back, right between his shoulder blades, and he froze. “She attacked us from behind,” Kikimora hissed in his ear, “She went for you, first.” Something slammed into his back, like she’d punched him. “She was brutal. Merciless.”
Kikimora twisted her hand, and Hunter felt a tingling shock, and then—
His world exploded. Heat flooded out from the wound, and Hunter heard a guttural, choking scream.
Oh, wait.
That was him.
Kikimora pushed him facedown to the ground, knife still in his back. “I killed her, of course. It was a tough fight, but to avenge a fellow coven member? Of course I didn’t give up until I succeeded.”
Hunter coughed, blood coating the inside of his mouth. “Kiiii…”
“That’s what happens,” Kikimora hissed, “when people try to replace me.”
She walked off, and Hunter just lay there on the ground, his mind fuzzy with pain.
He had to…
Ugh—
Hunter pulled out his staff, and inch by agonizing inch, used it to pull himself up, shaking. He twisted, reaching for the knife, but the movement just tore more, and the world blacked out for a second. He gripped his staff tightly, his knuckles white.
Kikimora could easily kill him in this state, if the wound itself didn’t kill him.
That meant the only thing standing between her and total control over the coven and Uncle Belos’ complete trust was… Luz.
Kikimora would probably go to the owl house first.
That gave Hunter the advantage.
Xxx
“Thorn vault!” Luz called, slamming her hand down on her glyph. The plant erupted outward, pushing her over Skara’s head to the goal. Skara jumped, but missed her by inches. “Ah! Not again!”
Luz touched down. “You’ll get it someday.”
“Unlikely!” Gus called from the bleachers, “I predict never!”
“Zip it, twerp!” Skara yelled back, “Just wave your flags!” She dusted herself off. “One more try?”
“One more try,” Luz agreed, “Amity, you ready?”
“Always!”
Gus screeched, pointing. “Luz!”
Luz whipped around in the direction he was pointing to see an awfully familiar staff moving slowly towards her.
And the person clutching it like a lifeline.
Amity raced towards Luz, skidding in front of her, an abomination already rising out of the dirt. “Stay back!” she warned Hunter, “I beat you once, I can do it again!”
Luz put a hand on her arm. “Wait! There’s something wrong!” She moved cautiously towards Hunter—he looked awful. Residue magic swirled around his wrists and ankles, and…
“Is that blood?!” Luz rushed forward to him, taking his arm. She stifled a scream at the jagged blade sticking out of his back, blood staining his white cape red. “Ohmygosh, what happened to you?!”
His chest heaved with ragged breaths. “Kikimora—never thought—this open—” He slumped against her. “After… you…”
“Find Viney!” Luz yelled to Skara, “Amity—”
“I’m not leaving you alone with him!”
“Okay, fine, Gus, get Eda!”
Luz lowered Hunter to the ground, holding him up so that the knife wouldn’t go further in. “Don’t die!”
Amity hovered over them. “What did you mean, ‘after you?’ Were you coming to hurt Luz?!”
Hunter coughed, blood flecking his lips. “I…”
“Amity, he’s in really bad shape! You can’t interrogate him right now!”
Hunter pawed weakly at her hand. “Kikimora… want… to kill… you… exposed…”
“Okay, okay, I get it. Big bad coven leader wants me dead. Now shhhhhh, stop moving around, you’re going to make it worse!”
Puddles landed next to her, Viney sliding off of his back. “Whoa! You must have been having the most intense grudgeby match of all time!” She knelt next to them, gently turning Hunter onto his stomach. “Oooo, that’s bad. You should have gotten the healing teacher, I don’t know if—”
Luz grabbed her arm. “No! No teachers! Please.”
Viney hissed, examining the knife. “This isn’t just a regular knife—there are some kinds of objects that are enchanted to be resilient to healing magic—in case you really, really want to make sure your enemy bites it.” She drew a circle with her finger, and the knife glowed golden. “This one isn’t too powerful—I can stop the bleeding and put a patch on all of the internal problems, but I can’t seal it up. He’ll have to heal on his own. Where did you even get this knife?!”
Hunter whimpered, and Luz grabbed Viney’s hand. “It doesn’t matter! Just do it, before he dies!”
“Okay.” Viney snapped her fingers, and Puddles shooed Luz to the side, offering Hunter a cloth to bite down on and gently holding him still with his talons. Viney took a deep breath, and the knife glowed again, floating out of Hunter’s back, the cloak floating away, too. Hunter let out a muffled scream into the cloth, and tensed, which just made the blood spurt harder out of the wound. Viney drew a circle over his back, and the bleeding abruptly stopped. Puddles coughed up bandages, and a needle and thread, and Viney nodded to Luz and Amity. “This isn’t going to be pretty. You might want to look away.”
Amity pulled Luz away. “Luz, what exactly are you planning to do now? Just dump him on the doorstep of the conformatorium and run away?”
“No way! What if Kikimora finds him first? We can’t just send him back, she is literally trying to kill him!”
“And he’s trying to catch you!”
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let him die!” Luz took Amity’s hands. “Amity, you fought him too. You didn’t feel even a little bit bad for him?”
Amity looked away. “Maybe a little bit,” she admitted, “But… if you’re not going to leave him with his coven, what is your plan?”
Luz bit her lip, staring at the ground. “Iwasthinkingmaybehecouldstayattheowlhouse,” she mumbled.
“What?”
“I was thinking he could stay with me,” she said louder, “At the owl house.”
“What?! No way! Luz, are you crazy?!”
“Ooo, hehe, jury’s still out on that one, Amity, you know that.”
“I’m serious, Luz, you can’t let him into the owl house!”
“Look at him, Amity, does he look dangerous to you?”
Amity looked back to where he was lying limp on the grudgeby field, Puddles nuzzling his face. “… I guess not… but still, he doesn’t have to attack you, all he has to do is put a trap, or let someone else into the owl house to bump you off!”
“The only people out for me right now are him and Kikimora. And Kikimora is also trying to kill him. Sooooooo I’m not overly worried about it.” Luz gave Amity’s hands a squeeze. “C’mon. I think I can handle one stabbed guy in a fight, give me that much credit at least.”
“… Fine. But good luck convincing Eda, she doesn’t exactly have the most… friendly of feelings towards him.”
Speak of the devil, Eda flew over the fence on her staff, Gus hanging onto the end. “I heard a kid got stabbed! Luz, you didn’t tell me it was knife day at school, I would have come to watch!”
“Kni—okay, sure, that’s a thing. It’s not knife day, Eda. None of the students got stabbed.”
“What? So what happened?”
Luz pointed across the field. “Uhhhhhhhm, soooooooo?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Eeeeedaaaaaa, I haven’t even asked anything yet!”
“Okay, let me set parameters for your next few sentences, then. If you are about to ask me if we can, in any way, shape, or form, take care of the Golden Guard and his lovely new piercing, the answer is no.”
“But Eda—”
“No. Nada. Nein. You speak Spanish, right? No. Any other ways I can say it?”
“Eda, he needs help!”
“Dump him on his coven’s doorstep, ring the doorbell, and run away. We’re not taking care of him.”
“Eda, listen—”
“No, you listen, Luz. That kid is trouble—and not the fun kind. You try to be nice to him, and he’ll stab you in the back. He’s been Belos-ified through and through.”
“I thought the same thing about Lilith!”
“Yeah? Well, I didn’t. My sister’s too much of a nerdy dork to ever be really horrible. This kid’s a nerd, sure, but he’s not Lili. He’s dangerous, he’s desperate, and unlike Lilith, he’s working completely for Belos, not himself.”
“Eda, Kikimora’s trying to kill him!”
“Well, I hope they succeed at murdering each other, and maybe take Belos down with them while they’re at it.”
“It would be murder to leave him at the coven!”
“Guess I’m going to be a murderer, then. Add it to the list of crimes.”
“Wouldn’t you want him to help me if I was in his place? If you were stuck in the owl beast form, and King was trying to kill me, wouldn’t you want him to help me?”
“I sincerely doubt King’s murdering skills, and NO, I think I wouldn’t want you anywhere close to Belos.”
Luz gave Eda big puppy-dog eyes, and her mentor sighed.
“Buuuuut I guess I see your point. Gah. Fiiiiiiiineee. You can take him home.” Eda leveled a finger at Luz. “But you have to feed him, and water him, and clean up after his messes, and keep him entertained, understood?”
“He’s not a pet, Eda.”
“I said, understood?”
“Understood.” Luz hugged Eda. “Thank you!”
“Oh, and if he tries to hurt you, if he tries to sell us out to Belos? I will do Kookymora a solid and finish the job.”
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Home Is in My Arms
Tony Stark had had a daughter.
Her name had been Penelope.
She had had superpowers.
And he hadn't seen her in four years.
The ten year-old had last been seen on March thirty-first, 2012. The day of the Chitauri invasion. Tony had seen her that morning, and he guessed he could at least be grateful that their last interaction hadn't been like his own with his parents. Instead of a fight that was never resolved, the two had giggled on the couch of the newly furnished tower, him and Pepper with glasses of wine and Penny with her mint milkshake. Pepper had side-eyed them exasperatedly, as though their laughs and jokes had been the worst ruckus anyone had ever made.
And then Coulson. And then Steve. And then Natasha and Bruce and a God he had learned about in history when he was younger. And then Loki and the Helicarrier and explosions that had left Tony's head ringing--but nothing had hurt more than the loss of his friend.
Everything had gone by so quickly, so desperately, there had been no time to do anything about anything except gear up and go. The biggest reassurance he had given himself was that his homework had caused Pepper and Penny to leave the city for a couple of days while the girl was on Spring Break. It meant they were safe from everything was about to happen, and that he didn't have to worry past New York.
And they had won. The Avengers had been formed under desperate circumstances. They had saved the world.
And Penny had been gone.
Pepper had left on the plane, but Penny had managed to convince her godmother that she should stay at her friend's house for a sleepover. The aliens hadn't even been able to make it past the perimeter and into Queens, but the hectic of it had been enough. Or maybe she had run off to help. Even at ten she was braver than he was. Better. And equipped with superpowers from a field trip's rogue spider that made her stronger than even Captain America.
But it hadn't been enough.
No body was ever recovered. No trace of her was ever found. No footage or DNA or witnesses. There was nothing. Nothing for him to even try and grasp onto what had happened to her. How she had died. The best anyone could do was assume that a Chitauri weapon had vaporized her and to try to grieve from there.
And by God did he try.
After the Mandarin and almost losing Pepper, he'd put in more effort than he ever had. He visited the grave where no body was buried, leaving flowers and trinkets and books he knew she would have loved. He talked. To people who had known her like he had. Pepper and Rhodey and Happy and even Natasha.
The two had been so close when the woman had spied on him. Closer than he had been, still trying to change and learn to be a father better than his own after Afghanistan. He'd been dying and hadn't focused on anything but himself. About what he wanted to do before he was gone, instead of what would happen to his family afterwards.
So Tony tried. He tried a lot, but trying didn't always end in success. No, sometimes it ended in helicarriers made for HYDRA to control. Or a robot meant to protect only trying to destroy. Or in the fracturing of the Avengers, with Natasha and Steve on the run while the others sat in a max security prison that he spent every living moment trying to get them out of.
Except for now. Or maybe now too. Tony didn't know why Natasha had texted him. Only that she had betrayed him and texted only a couple of weeks later with a location out in Birmingham, England and nothing else but the message 'Get here quick.'
And he had. With nothing but a quick word to Pepper to keep Ross off of his aching back for a day, he'd stepped onto his plane and arrived in just over six hours. From there the billionaire had stepped into a waiting car and zoomed towards the address the spy had sent him, his heart racing just as fast as the vehicle's as he curved through city traffic.
Tony's thoughts strayed to Steve and Barnes and what had happened the last time he'd zoomed off to help his teammate. He swallowed down on his stuttering fear, reassured partly by the guantlet-watch sat snugly on his wrist and partly because he knew Natasha. Well, he knew her better than he ever had Steve anyway. Him and Natasha had fought, and there'd always been room for disagreements and anger, but at the end of the day they knew each other. And they were family.
The mechanic pulled up outside the run-down apartment complex, giving it a onceover before parking, pulling a baseball cap on low, and stepping out.
There was a drizzle, light and cold for the summer, even in England. He frowned, but only pulled his hood up with a shiver and stepped through the rusted metal gate, allowing him access to the first floor of apartments and a set of spindly stairs that he hoped didn't lead to any kind of locked door. He didn't exactly have a key, and Tony would prefer to not draw any attention to himself while here.
The man didn't need anymore grief from Ross. Not while he was desperate to pin something on Tony, and meeting with a violator of the Accords wouldn't exactly do much for his public image.
Biting on a sigh, Tony headed up the stairs towards the apartment number that Natasha had sent him. Thankfully, there was no locked door in his way, and the only person in the hallway that the stairs had led him to seemed to be much too out of it to pay him any mind. Quicker than he really would have liked, Tony was outside Apartment 9B, the number rusted and close to falling off of its hinges. Sucking in a breath, he knocked.
It only took a few seconds for the door to click! and then crack open just enough for him to catch familiar blue eyes and cropped platinum hair interrupted by a second lock's chain.
Natasha let out a short breath of relief, unlocking the door fully and opening the door just enough that he could slip inside. He glanced around the apartment once as she locked the door back up, surprised to see it was basically exactly what he had expected. It was small and old, orderly but not quite well-kempt, with evidence of past fights staining and fracturing the walls.
"Nice place," he commented. "Very runaway."
"Very last minute," Natasha responded. "It's not as easy as you think it is to get an apartment when everyone's trying to arrest you."
"You seem to slip away no matter what. By the way, how did you get away from Ross last week? I've got to know your trick on that, because I could use some pointers."
Natasha stopped beside him, a small smile tugging at her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest. Despite his forcefully loose and nonchalant posture, Tony felt himself freeze up looking at the Avenger. Her expression, no matter what it was, had always been hard for Tony to discern when she was practically the perfect spy. But now, this smile--it was sad and joyful and regretfully guilty.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice dropping to something softer. Rarely sincere.
Natasha glanced away from him to stare at a door for a moment before glancing back at him. Her lips twitched and her eyes threatened tears in a way that he hadn't thought she would express to him.
She swallowed. "Penny's alive. And I found her."
Tony--
Tony didn't react. Not for nearly a minute. Instead he stared, his entire body stilling--even his damaged heart--before he seemed to come back to life all at once like a broken wound-up toy.
The man stumbled back a step, falling into the nearest gray wall. One lonely breath coming in in a strangled gasp as he willed for something--anything--to make sense.
"She's alive?"
Natasha nodded.
"How?" he demanded. "How--in England? From New York? There's no way anybody could've just taken her while I was--"
The man cut himself off, dragging in another wheeze that rattled through his entire chest. His legs began to collapse under him, but his friend caught him, managing to maneuver him onto the floor slowly. Tony leaned against the wall as Natasha sat beside him, her head propped up against the wall beside him.
Neither said anything. Not for a few minutes at least at Tony's shaking and gasping ebbed. Not until he could force out images and nightmares of Penny his mind had tortured him with for years. He locked them in a box and dropped it in an ocean of useless thoughts, because his daughter was alive. Because she wasn't dead and none of it--a painful death full of fear and confusion while Tony was only blocks away that he had been tortured by for years--had ever happened.
Natasha spoke up when he'd finally managed to take in eight consistent breaths.
"I was raised in the Red Room," she started. "I was taken from my family and tortured for years. I tried to make a family there, and I did. For a little bit at least. But that family was taken too, replaced by the only world I had ever known. One based on pain and dictated structure. A cruel trick to play on a child, but it was normal for the Red Room. What wasn't normal was me not only succeeding more than they had ever dreamed, but succeeding past them. Escaping and deserting. Killing Dreykov was the last step of my defection to SHIELD. It was revenge and justice all at once. The others would be freed and I could clear out my ledger in a life I chose."
She swallowed, taking a moment.
"I failed. I failed and I didn't know." Natasha turned from staring ahead at the wall to stare at Tony. Suffering blue met broken brown, tired and guilty reflecting. In a whisper, she said, "Dreykov lived. He lived until a week ago. And the Red Room, and every Widow in it, lived under him."
Tony was touched to be trusted this much. To be trusted with even a sliver of what his friend had gone through in such a time of suspicion and betrayal. But he was scared. He was terrified, because Natasha never shared just to share. Everything she said had a point, a reason, a direction.
He tore his eyes away, shoving a hand over them and letting his head drop onto his knees. Unwillingly, he croaked, "No... Nat, please don't tell me--"
"Penny's a Widow."
Tony bit his lip, chewing on his cheek so harshly there was the tang of blood in his mouth. He took a moment, letting his head fall against the cracked and stained cement wall. Penny was alive. And she had been trained--no. Natasha's descriptions, however few and miniscule they had been, could not be described as simply training. Penny had been tortured. For four years. And what had he done but grieve and give up? If only he'd known. If only he'd found out sooner.
Natasha continued.
"The Red Room..." She took a breath and licked her lips. "After I escaped, they changed their whole system. Their method. How they hid and how they trained and--and how they controlled the women."
Something about the way Natasha said the last part sent a cold feeling down his throat.
"What did they do to her?" he croaked.
"They um...well, for lack of my understanding of it, they mind controlled her."
"They--Nat what? How would they even--"
"They controlled the brain’s neuropathways through external manipulation," came a new voice, their accent thick. Tony whipped his head around to stare at a woman he had never seen before. Like Natasha, she wore a regular hoodie and sweatpants but still looked as though she could take his life in less than a minute. There was an intensity about her, from her stance to her tied back hair to her ghostly blue eyes that stared at him suspiciously. "It was based off of blueprints for the Winter Soldier. Me and Natasha were part of the mission to retrieve them when we were young."
Despite the insanity of every new piece of information shot his way, he managed to piece it together in his head quickly enough that he opened his mouth to respond with a snapped remark, but Natasha managed to speak before he did.
"What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be looking after Penny."
"I was, but then I heard how badly you were explaining everything and I came to help." Natasha glared. "Relax. I finished braiding her hair and now she's pretending to be asleep so she can listen to everyone talking."
The last part was said with a pointed look down the narrow apartment hall, but everything after Natasha had said "Penny" didn't seem to make sense anymore.
"She's here?" he asked, already scrambling to his feet. He glanced between Natasha and the woman desperately. "Penny's here right now?"
"We found her yesterday," Natasha answered cautiously. "Me and Yelena just started to free the Widows deployed around the world. We managed to give her the antidote during a shootout in Estonia. After that a friend of mine managed to get us here."
"A shoot--is she okay?"
"Just a couple of burns," Yelena said. "She may be enhanced, but she still has plenty to learn. She could still kick your ass, though."
"Thank you. Truly," Tony said, a bite of sarcasm to his voice, before turning back to Natasha, his desperation bubbling. "Which room?"
"Tony, I don't think you need to just go bursting in there. Let me--"
Tony stopped listening, every word his friend was saying dying out on his ears as he spotted a brunette and wide brown eyes poking around the corner over Natasha's shoulder. He felt his breath catch in his throat as their eyes clicked.
Penny had grown. She'd sprouted almost an entire foot from the short ten year old she had been, awkward and gangly limbs that the girl had always seemed to struggle with were replaced by obvious muscle and carefully controlled movement as she stepped out from behind the wall, their stare still holding. Despite the sharper angle of her chin and jaw, she still held baby fat in her cheeks that dwindled the look of her down by a couple of years, not helped at all by the familiar roundness of her deeply brown eyes.
He swallowed. His voice broke.
"Penny?"
—-
“Penny?"
It had been years since Penny had seen her dad. Since she'd heard him. Anything about her father not privy to missions had been carefully shielded away from the teenager for years. Sometimes on the few missions she had been sent on she would catch news clippings and pictures on TV channels before she had to move on or that terrible voice in her mind would force her to ignore him. But, despite the scarcity of which she was allowed to know about her father, she had always thought about him.
Penny had swam in her memories whenever she could. Whenever she needed. She'd think about the games she and her dad had used to play. About lessons he'd taught her and days they'd spent together. About hugs and braided hair and kisses to her head. The memories had felt faint and washed away underneath everything, but she'd clung to them like a lifeline.
That being said, she hadn't expected Dad's voice to sound like that. For him to look like this. He was always so put together in her mind--so strong--even when he was messy from the lab or tired from a long day of work, always accompanied by fond child-like adoration. But now he didn't look it.
There were bruises on his face, faint but still noticeably purple. His hair wasn't as dark or thick as she remembered, growing back just a little higher on his hairline, and more lines grabbed and pulled at his face. But that wasn't what ruined her memory of strength and warmth, people aged after all, that was just reality. It was the expression on his face and glossing over his eyes. It was the way he'd said her name, so unsure and weary.
Penny, finally, looked away from Dad, instead glancing over at Yelena and trying not to look like she was too desperate for help. Yelena stared back, raising her brows and gesturing to Tony with a slight nod of her head, as if telling her to not be a coward. But Penny didn't know how to do that. Not now.
Thankfully, Natasha took over.
"I'm going to go get us some dinner. Yelena?"
Okay, so not the kind of help she'd been looking for.
Yelena gave Penny one last glance, nodded, and then followed the Avenger out of the door.
The door clicked shut and then it was just father and daughter.
"Penny," he tried again.
She hid a flinch at how small and tired his voice was, how broken he felt standing only feet from her. She hid her shock and her fear and apprehension exactly how she'd been taught, schooling her features into something easy and bored. She let her shoulders drop and her posture loosen, but the hardest part was hardening her stare. That had always been the biggest complaint of her handlers. Her senses had been sharp but her expression always so readable by her eyes.
"Hi, Dad," she said, her voice cool and casual on default. The words felt terrible leaving her lips, so she crossed her arms in an attempt to feel more stable. "It's been a while."
He chuckled, short and sad. "Yeah. You could say that."
And then there was silence. It trickled in, slow, awkward, and tense between them. Penny tried not to let it get to her, but she couldn't deny that she wasn't tired and disappointed. When Yelena had smashed the antidote beside her, it was the first time the teenager had seen clearly in a long time, and her first thought had been of her Dad. There had been worries about if he missed her and if he'd been okay, but a fear had stabbed at her so strongly that she was still thinking about it.
Would he still love her? After all she'd done? She had hurt people. She had killed people. Not in defense. Not in good reason. But in fear and control.
"I, uh..." Penny blinked at her dad's voice, beating away her thoughts and instead focusing back on the bruised and stuttering man in front of her. "Sorry. I would've thought of something better to say if I'd known I was going to see you again. Maybe some presents too. Do you still like those peanut butter cookies?"
"The ones we used to make?" she asked. "With the Hershey Kisses?"
"Those are the ones."
She shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't had them since I was with you."
"Oh. Yeah. I guess you wouldn't have..." he trailed off, glancing down for a moment. She stared at him, watching his expression carefully as he loosened and looked back up at her. "Well, we can't make them again? At home?"
"Sure. Sounds fun."
Penny couldn't stand how dull her voice sounds, like she couldn't care less about something that really made her want to cry in happiness. But...she didn't know what else to do. What to say. The Red Room had made sure she always knew what to do and what to say, but that had been for politicians and businessmen and people she was supposed to trick. She didn't want to trick her dad. She just--she wanted to--
Dad stepped closer, brows furrowed and mouth pulled down in a deep and concerned frown. She kept a wary eye on him as he approached, trying to force down feelings of apprehension and fear that she had become familiar with whenever anybody was in her space. But he stopped about a foot short, his reached out hand halting just away from her face as he whispered, "Oh, piccolina. It's okay." His voice broke. "It's okay. I'm gonna make sure it is... I promise."
And finally she broke.
And it hurt. It really, really hurt.
Penny leaned her cheek into his open hand as hot beads of tears caught on her eyelashes, allowing for Dad to cup his other hand around the back of her head and tentatively pull her in. It took the teenager a moment to adjust, so wired on the need to fight and never let her guard down, but then she just--crumpled.
Like a switch had been flicked, Penny buried her nose into his neck and wrapped her arms around him in a tight squeeze, swallowing down tears. Dad pulled her in tighter, his nose pressed into her tightly braided crown.
And then he sobbed.
It was a strangled, inhuman kind of sound that rumbled from his chest to escape the back of his throat. He cleared his throat, as if embarrassed, but Penny wasn't an idiot. She could still hear his heart thumping and feel a tear slip from his chin onto the back of her neck. It all shocked her, but the sound found itself ringing in her ears painfully more than anything.
She flinched in his hug.
"Oh, Penny. I'm so sorry," he apologized, his voice sore with tears. "So, so sorry."
"For what?" she asked. "Not finding me? You wouldn't have been able to, Dad, even being you. Draykov made sure of it."
"I don't care. I should've done something! I should've--I should've--"
"Dad." He fell silent as she pulled away from him, crossing her arms back over her chest as she came back to her training. Dad stared at her, his dark copper eyes as guilty as she felt. "Please, just... Don't be sorry. Because I'm sorry, and if you're sorry then we're both sorry and we can't both be sorry it's--"
"What on Earth do you have to be sorry for?"
"You'd be surprised."
"Penny--"
"I'm not ten anymore, Dad. I don't think I'm even a kid anymore... I've--I've done too much harm. I have a lot to be sorry for."
Dad stared at her, a familiar sadness in his eyes. He chewed his cheek, brows furrowed in thought, and she was brought back to a time when she would watch him solve problems in the lab, or try to answer one of her inane questions that she never seemed to be able to stop asking.
"Let me ask you something," he started. "Do you think I'm a bad person? That I'm at fault for losing you?"
"No," she answered immediately, because her dad had always tried, no matter what. She'd known he wasn't perfect, and that a lot of people hated him for the mistakes he'd made, but she'd always known how much he really cared. How much he really cared and tried for the world. For the Avengers. For her.
"Well, then what makes you a bad person? What makes you not a kid anymore?"
Penny could only stare. She could only answer, "I've hurt people."
"I know. And I have too. But you don't think I'm a bad person, so you're not a bad person either. And what about Nat? Or your new very scary friend?"
"I forgot how much I hated arguing with you," she deadpanned.
"'Trying' to argue with me," he corrected, a smile pulling at his face. Surprisingly, she managed to smile back. Even more surprisingly, it didn't feel fake. Sure, it was small and tired, but Penny couldn't remember the last time she'd actually smiled. "See? Everything's going to be okay."
"How do you know?" she asked. "I'm a violator of the Accords. If it ever gets out that I was part of the Red Room--what I did for the Red Room--almost nothing could keep me out of prison. You'll have to explain how you found me and it would make you a violator--"
"I'll handle it," Dad said. "I always handle it. And just because you don't feel like a kid doesn't mean you aren't one. There are protections for you. And we found protections for Nat. Wanda too, if she would've taken them." He muttered the last part under his breath, the words emotionless but regret and guilt clear in his eyes. He cleared his throat and looked back at her with a raised brow. "And how do you know about the Accords? Do they have a current events class in the Red Room?"
"We do actually have to keep up with some events for missions. But, no. I've been reading old newspapers. Did you know you were on the front page for almost two weeks in June?"
"No. Nobody reads the paper anymore. Unless you're a dinosaur anyway."
"Uncle Rhodey likes the paper," she said with that still small but still real smile. "For the crossword puzzles."
"Yeah. Like I said: Dinosaur." With that, the jokes seemed to slide away as he took on a more serious tone. "But I'll handle it. I've already been trying to handle the Accords. You'll be safe, and free, at home, Penny. I promise."
"I can really come home?"
Dad paused. "Did you think you wouldn't?"
Penny shrugged. "I don't know. I wanted to. I want to. But I just... I didn't know how safe it would be, and I know how to live by myself. How to avoid suspicion. I was...I was prepared for other options."
"If you were planning on running, why did you meet with me?"
"I don't know," she said. But truthfully, there had been a hole in her heart. A knot in her stomach. She'd just--she'd needed to see her dad. To apologize and let him know she was okay. She'd missed her family for so long, she had to imagine they'd missed her too. In fact, Penny had wanted nothing more to know they'd missed her. That those years in the Red Room wondering where her family was hadn't been because they didn't care.
Realistically, Penny knew Dad had missed her. Had loved her enough to grieve and look for her, but being there for so long--so terribly long--had been enough for seeds of doubt to sprout and root itself in her mind. But the teenager didn't tell her dad that. That would make him upset, and Penny was tired of being upset. Instead, she said, "Just missed you. Wanted to know that you're okay."
"Well, now you're gonna know every day," he said. "And you're going to know that Pepper is okay. And Rhodey and Happy. And you're never going to miss us again."
"Never?"
"Nope. Well, maybe when you go to school. But we can homeschool if you would prefer that. Would you?"
"Oh, uh, I don't--"
"Yeah, never mind. You don't have to know right now," he said with a wave. Then he smiled at her again, that genuine smile that squinted his eyes and pulled at his wrinkled laugh lines. "Right now, why don't we just go home?"
"Yeah," she said. And suddenly no other thought occupied her mind. Home was all she could think of. Of tall New York skyscrapers and the bustling city. Or maybe they'd go back to Malibu, even if his house was gone. Either way she'd see her uncle again. And Pepper. And Happy, who were all family to her. Family she hadn't seen in so long. "Let's go home."
Dad smiled, his eyes misty. Penny smiled back, taking his hand and leaning against him in another hug. He readily accepted, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a light kiss to the crown of her head.
The best part: Nothing about him whispered danger. Or discomfort or uneasiness. There was just...comfort.
Just home.
It was the best feeling in the entire world.
—-
“Should we tell Uncle Rhodey we're on the way?"
"Nah. He loves surprises."
"He hates surprises."
"Exactly!"
Penny laughed. And the sound, the feeling, was just like home.
#peter parker#tony stark#female peter parker#irondad#irondad and spiderson#iron man fanfiction#spiderman fanfiction#marvel fanfiction
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Favorite color
Ever since he was born, his world was filled with colors, a beautiful rainbow at his fingers. He’d look down at them at night, or when his parent’s leaving made him want to cry, or when a horror story told by a classmate in the playground scared him half to death, and find comfort in their silky touch and bright hues.
He was seven when he learned the meaning behind them. And the blaring lack of red signaled the first, but not last, heartbreak of his life.
Blue, green, purple, black… and bright yellow. A teacher, a missed opportunity, a first love, life and death… and friendship. No eternal love for Tim, it seemed.
Well. He hadn’t really expected any different. Who would love him forever, when his own parents didn’t?
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He had forgotten it, and it escaped his notice for many years. Until one night, following Dick Grayson as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop, when he noticed his purple string moving in synch with him. Pointing towards his hero, the boy who had given him his very first hug that night at the circus. His First Love, his Not Meant to Be.
That night, Tim packed up early and went home. He just couldn’t stand the red uniform contrasting sharply with his purple thread.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
When Dick left, he thought maybe now he could go back to his old habits, to run the streets looking for flashes of the new robin without the baggage of avoiding to look at his own hand.
No such luck.
The green made a whole lot of sense when news of Jason’s death reached him, tough.
It wouldn't be the last night he’d cry himself to sleep, holding the frayed ends of his fated Almost.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Becoming Robin was both easy and painful. Comfortable, because the blue string pointing him towards Bruce meant this was always supposed to happen; heartbreaking, because it took a kid dying. Because Tim might not have a romantic soul mate, but his hands, that had made a green string break to grant him access to the blue path, were stained red nonetheless.
Wearing Robin’s red, with all the hurt and bad memories it carried, felt like a subpar punishment.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Meeting his Yellows almost passed his awareness. In the middle of a crisis, every adult missing, no mentor to guide him, he couldn’t exactly spare a thought for the kids looking shellshocked at him, each other and their hands.
After, when Young Justice was officially formed, he firmly avoided looking at Bart, Superboy and Wondergirl. Their eyes followed him, pleading, but he’d learned no good ever came from strings that weren’t red.
And the red in his soul wasn’t from love.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Despite himself and his best efforts, they grew closer. Life or death situations had that effect on people, after all.
His own reluctance, which had in turn provoqued Kon’s anger, Bart’s dejection and Cassie’s confusion, slowly began to crumble. He was helpless in the face of their unrelenting friendship.
The strings grew shinier, stronger, healthier, the yellow a stark contrast to frayed (dead) green, cold blue, distant purple. Scary black.
Tim still despised the rainbow in his fingers, but… he could maybe withstand the sparks of yellow he’d catch from the corner of his eye, knowing just who were at the other end.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
It wasn’t exactly team training. Greta, Anita, Cissie, Slobo and the others didn’t join them, for whatever reason. It was always the four of them, leaning on and learning from each other.
When Kon’s strength frustrated him, when the world around him seemed to be made of bubbles and sea foam, Tim stayed late at night every weekend to help. Every spare moment directed towards coaching him, again and again, through exercises he had to come by himself (Clark was no big help, here), until exhaustion made his muscles tremble and Kon’s anger had burned out from frustration to soft acceptance that he just wasn’t like the rest. Until he could hold still and let Superboy trace the side of his jaw with a careful finger, and exchange proud little smiles when his face remained unbroken.
Bart being raised by video games had the expected outcome; he had little to no practical, day to day life knowledge. He was the closest living thing to a Looney Toon. Which was fun and good when crime fighting, his crazy ideas often saved their ass last minute, but unacceptable if integrating him into society was to be considered. So Tim would take him out, hand in hand so he didn’t forget himself and ran on his own, to leisurely stroll down busy streets, arcades, schools, libraries. Talk to people in parks and visit recreational centers, barter with street vendors and ask the little boy selling flowers on Jump Street how his mother is doing. Whatever Tim could think of that would soften Bart’s cultural shock.
In that regard, Cassie was a godsend. With her own attentive mentor, and raised like a normal girl until she obtained her powers, she was the most well balanced member on their team. Tim had started to feel a little restless (how can he help her, how can he convince her to stay…), when he noticed her frustrated, sad face whenever Donna was mentioned on Tv, when any reporter or older hero compared the two Wonder Girls. Familiar as he was with imposter syndrome, Tim would rest his arm around her shoulders and turn to the rest of the team, loudly reminding everyone to ‘speed up guys, Cassie here’s already done with her training routine’ or slump tiredly against her while complaining about ‘how immature they are, I can’t deal, thank God you’re here to remind me competent people do exist’.
It was familiar, to help them along. To nudge them forward and watch their backs as they went, firmly making their way towards being the awesome men and woman he knew they’d become. Lending a hand here and there, working on steading their foundations, so he’d be remembered fondly when they inevitably took off and went on with their lives.
He was used to that, to looking for ways his fated people would want him around. Being a good brother to Dick, an eager student to Bruce (a good mourner for Jason).
What he wasn’t used to was reciprocation, though.
Tim had learned how to fly from the best, from Dick Grayson himself.The boy with no powers that looked at gravity and laughed, sayed “thanks, but no”. But there were some things only a true meta could experience, ways to move his body just so, to take advantage of wind currents to either speed or slow his movements. Kon also visited him in Gotham, unknowing or uncaring about its meta restriction, risking pissing off Batman himself just to spend time with Tim.
There was Bart, kind, cute, friendly Bart, who would stop eating and playing around to drag Tim to the training grounds and run laps around him, as silently as he knew how. Making Tim used to fighting against someone quicker than him, lighter on their feet. To count incredibly soft steps even when they made no sound, and use other senses to pinpoint exactly where the next hit was going to come from. And after they were done, there was always a warm smile and some sweet treat (always different, as if Bart was determined to figure out Tim’s preferences by trial and mistake), the new knowledge and delicious prize worth the dirt in unmentionable places.
As stated before, Cassie was an absolute godsend. But it wasn’t just because she was easier to deal with than the rest. Or because she understood the pressure he had on his shoulders, being raised in the shadow of two incredibly renowned heroes. When Tim’s position as leader had been taken away (after Bruce’s plans for taking out the league became known, and ‘what if he has the same for us’), she took him aside. Hugging him, promising him the team’s anger was going to pass, that she could see why those contingencies might be necessary, that even if she was officially in charge, she’d always defer to him when it mattered. Her trust in him and his heart was unshakable, firm as the arm he’d put round her when self doubt arose its head.
(It wasn’t supposed to be this way; if they reciprocated, they didn’t owe him, and then how was he supposed to keep them close? To convince him to stay, to love the boy with loveless fate?)
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Jason was unexpected, but Tim couldn’t hold it against him. Even there, bleeding out in the Tower, he felt… at ease.
His predecessor was back. Bruce’s son was back. The prodigal Robin had returned, by some miracle. Tim’s shift had come to an end; even if he died here, he had succeeded in keeping Bruce sane, and now that the real deal was in town, Jason could take over and everything would go back as it should have been. Everyone (B, Dick, Babs, Alfred) would be happier. Maybe they’d mourn him, for a bit, but with such a joyous occasion as a beloved one returning home, it wasn’t like grief could stay for long.
Someone yelled, near. Warm hands shaking as they touched his face infinitely careful, small fingers intertwined with his in a very familiar hold, a strong and slender arm around his back as he’s being held in a half hug. Cries, pleas, demands.
And while nothingness claims Tim, drags him to a well of black, yellow still clings to his eyelids. A touch that keeps him warm even though unconsciousness is supposed to be so cold.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Death and life. Damian.
Tim can see the first one, what with all of the brat’s attempts to end him. It’s the second one that has him stumped.
He knows not all strings go both ways. His purple one, for example; even if Dick was Tim’s first love, everyone and their mother knew Babs’ was his. Dick had a string pointing towards Tim, but it was a mentor-student one. Same as the one he and Bruce shared. Jason, too; Tim’s side of the string was the green of Almost, while the former Robin’s color was black (Tim taking his place as Robin, and being the only one in the family offering his hand again and again despite his murderous actions, was in some poetic sense the death of an old role, and the birth of a new family dynamic).
Damian, though… Well. He was almost sure they had the same color for each other (how else to explain such dangerous rage), but really, unless the kid was willing to share, it was only suppositions for now.
His only comfort remained the three beams of light, of a yellow almost golden in its healthy shine.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
When Tim changed his suit following Conner’s death, everyone thought it was an homenage. A way to pay tribute to a hero that was his closest, dearest friend. A way to never forget (as if he could, ever, with the lifeless line of pale beige, once yellow, dangling from his twitching finger).
They weren’t wrong, but it wasn’t just that.
Red had always pained him, in a deep, almost forgotten place. A thorn on his side, scratching against his heart. For the longest part, yellow had filled him to the brim, until hurt and yearning had no place inside him. With Kon’s warmth missing, red bleed in the place between Cassie and Bart, despite their best efforts to close ranks and keep it out.
Their sad eyes followed him during the funeral, knowing what the color meant to him. Just how much he was hurting himself, right now. But, lost in their own grief, there was little to be done.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
By the time Tim got the call about Bart, he already knew.
He ignored the ringing phone, holding a sobbing Cassie in his arms, both desperately clutching at their only remaining yellow string.
Between the two of them, color like blood seeped.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Every so often, when Ra’s voice in his ear became too familiar for comfort, where lines draw in sand begane to erode and blur, he’d raise his hand, eyes locked on the three yellow strings, and watch as Cassie’s moved, disappearing end pointing always in her direction.
He was fairly sure that, wherever she was, she was doing the same. Reminding herself he was alive as well, hadn’t left her behind.
Her absence from his life was necessary, finding Bruce a priority, and the red of his new suit (his new name) was proof of just how deeply it all ran. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t yearning for her lighter color.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
They were back, and he was hiding.
He wanted to run to their arms, hug them and never let them out of his view, far from where he could protect them (keep them). He wanted Kon’s hand on his face, delicate despite his strength, un-trembling when Tim’s own would softly join it on his check and held it there; Bart’s fingers between his own, too steady and constant for the boy who didn’t know how to sit still; Cassie’s arm on his waist, his own on her back, as they shared the weight of the world in their shoulders.
And because he wanted so damn much, he couldn’t do it.
He was covered in red. His first love discarded him, his Almost died so Tim could have his Teacher, his Life and Death was so heavily focused on the last bit… his hands lacked red, but oh, how much he leaked of it in his soul.
He couldn’t let them die again, be stained by his twisted fate; even if it meant he could’t hold them close any longer.
Letting go was more painful than holding on, but he was used to it by now.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
They find him. Of course they do; even without Kon’s senses, they all have beams of gold pointing them towards him, like Dorothy’s yellow brick road.
Tim knew it, was ready for it. And as such, had prepared the words that would push them away, to where it was safer.
Or so he thought.
“We are not leaving you.”
“Who cares about fate? You are ours, Rob.”
“It’s been long enough, Tim. Time to come home, we are done waiting.”
He denies them, shakes despite his usual iron clad control over his body, heart wrenching painfully at their decided expressions.
“You don’t understand. I’m Red Robin now. I’m not… I’m no good for you.”
“I could literally snap your back with the flick of a finger, shut up with that ‘I’m dangerous’ bullshit.”
“Yeah, even Bart could be dangerous given the right circumstances, you aren’t the only one here to watch for. It doesn’t mean shit to us.”
‘
“That’s right, I- wait, what do you mean ‘even Bart?”
“Not the point, Imp.”
They don’t get it. He takes his mask off, wants to give them a good look at his eyes, to read his emotions there and finally realize what’s wrong about him.
“Almost all my strings have something to do with death, or were touched by it. Don’t you see it?” He raises his hand, despite knowing they can’t see his strings, only their own. “I have no red here, only blood. I can’t… I’m not safe to love. I’ll never be loved.”
Kon snaps, something he had rarely done since their Young Justice days, hands on Tim’s shoulders, seemingly torn between shaking him and pulling him close. The latter wins.
(As it always does)
“This is love, you idiot! WE love you!”
Tim chokes on something (saliva, his own breath, emotions). Gasps, tears coming to his eyes unbridled.
He feels two pairs of arms joining the first one, a cocoon of warmth and unconditional love forming around him.
Bart’s sad eyes watch Tim from under Kon’s hug. “I don’t have red either, Rob. Romantic, platonic, filial… who gives a fuck”, he shrugs, before hiding his face against the red of Tim’s uniform. Uncaring of all it represents for him or perhaps doing his best to defy it.
Cassie just holds them all in the circle of her own embrace, forehead to the back of Tim’s head. Her hold is the tightest, and he just realizes- she lost all of them, didn’t she? To death and grief, all too far to touch, and now that they’re back in her arms, there’s little chance of her ever letting go again.
“Love has more than one form, Tim.”
He shudders in the middle of this weirdly emotional dog pile, and thinks. About Bruce and Dick’s pride when they successfully taught him something new. Of Jason’s reluctant smile when Tim first tugged him along to some joined patrol, sneakily edging him closer to the family with every interaction. Of Damian, who would often look down at his own hands (and Tim would honestly kill someone to know just which color the young boy had for Tim) and then at him, with something like hope in his green eyes.
He thinks… yeah. And this one…
(He gives up, closing his eyes and snuggling deeper into Kon’s chest, knees buckling but staying up thanks to his three rays of sunlight holding him in place between them.)
This one’s shape might just be his favorite.
#my writting#core disaster week#day two#Red string of fate#tim drake#kon el kent#bart allen#cassie sandsmark#bruce wayne#dick grayson#damian wayne#jason todd#angst#you've been warned
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Part 3! This is the last part, containing Beel and Belphie's sections below the cut. Please enjoy~
Part 1 | Part 2
~
Beelzebub:
Things were peaceful with the pregnancy for a while.
Even in the beginning, when MC was barely showing and faced very little issues, the sixth brother was waiting on her hand and foot
And he almost always had a smile on his face. He was just insanely happy about becoming a dad, about having a baby with MC.
He handled every thing more or less with stride.
When she started showing and the woman felt self-conscious about the fact that she was losing her figure, he'd hold her close and kiss her, telling how beautiful she was, that the belly she was growing made her no less so. In fact, it made her even more beautiful because to him, what her body was doing was a beautiful thing: growing and carrying his child, something that meant the world to him.
Yeah, he was a bit anxious about how things would go since Lucifer told them the pregnancy could become dangerous for her, but he was still truly happy for the two of them to become parents.
Unlike his siblings in the other timelines, Beel had no fears about how he'll be as a dad; he knew he had so much love to give their son or daughter and was ready to give it.
It wasn't until MC's fourth month when some concerns were raised.
MC's belly had grew at an unusual rate. Despite just entering her fourth month, her belly was roughly the size of what it should be in her sixth or even seventh month of pregnancy, according to Satan.
Beel didn't really know anything specific about pregnancy so he didn't see it as anything to worry about. I mean, he was the Avatar of Gluttony and this was his baby. MC developed quite the appetite because of this and was eating at least twice more than she used to. Surely that's all this was? And if so, the man couldn't see it as anything dangerous, at least.
Still, MC's anxiety grew over it, causing him talk over it more with the blonde to figure out if there was anything he could do for her.
And so the time came; the rune! Satan drew the rune over the human's belly to collect the data they needed.
After a minute or two of absorbing the data, the blonde raised an eyebrow.
"What is it?" MC asked.
"It... well, I suppose for a start, Beel is correct that his sin is part of the reason for the growth spurt." Satan began. "But only partly."
Beel leaned towards his brother, listening closely.
"However, there are some more difficult elements at play here." The fourth brother continued. "The most pressing being... the number."
"I... what?" The woman stared at the demon in front of her.
"It seems you two are having twins. Two girls, in fact."
Beel immediately pulled MC in for a hug. The woman cried heavy tears, but they were paired with a smile. The big guy teared up as well.
"Twins. Beely, we're having two little girls." She said from inside his arms.
"I know." The man pulled back and gave her a sweet kiss before laying both hands on her belly. "Our little girls--"
"I hate to interrupt," The Avatar of Wrath said, but of course, did so anyway. "But... do either of you realize the danger this poses to any degree?"
Beel turned back to his brother, furrowing his brow.
Satan sighed.
"Beel... one baby was going to be rough on her body, but two?" He pointed out. "Honestly Beel, she'll likely be eating at least as much as you, if not more, and that still might not be enough for her body. It's manageable now, but once she enters the last trimester, it'll be very difficult to keep two gluttony demon children fed as well as the mother they're siphoning nutrition off of faster than she can get it."
Basically, MC was going to be eating an extreme amount of food and still literally be starving. That's how Beel understood it at least.
The man looked at his girlfriend and frowned in worry. He hated feeling hungry and didn't wish that on his Muffin, but knew she'll end up feeling even worse than that.
"Is there anything I can do for her now?" The redhead asked.
"Right now... all we can do is stock up and hope for the best." The blonde answered. "Lucifer should probably be informed so things can be planned out."
And so he did. He walked his girlfriend to their bedroom so she could lie down for a bit while he went to Lucifer's study to inform him. The older brother was instantly stressed out, but let out a sigh and told him that he'll handle it.
Lucifer did warn Beel though that he probably won't be able to eat as much as he's used to because of this. The Avatar of Gluttony only nodded. If he had to go hungry to keep MC fed and alive then so be it. It was worth it to him.
As the months went by, Satan's predictions were proven true. By half way through her seventh month, MC was bedridden. Her belly had grown so big that she literally could not get out of bed on her own.
The woman was never alone though. She constantly had either Beel or Belphie or both with her to bring her food or carry her to the bathroom or cuddle her so she didn't get lonely.
What was equally as worrisome as her gravid boulder of a belly was the rest of her. The woman had lost so much weight in her thighs, arms, and face that she looked like she's been starved for years.
Each touch of Beel's was extra gentle because his girlfriend looked so fragile like this. He was afraid to hurt her even more, especially because of their girls' kicks.
The twins had inherited their daddy's strength. Occasionally, one or both of them would kick their mama a bit too hard, causing a bruise to form on her belly.
This led to lots of belly time. Beel would kiss and rub his Muffin's belly while talking to his girls, telling them how loved they are, but how they need to be more gentle with their mama.
Despite how difficult the situation was, both Beel and MC kept positive, smiling through it. After all, this was all for their little girls so of course it was worth it.
Good End:
Oh this poor woman. It took ten months of pregnancy, being a full month over due, but her twins were finally ready to come out into the world and meet their parents.
It was a long twelve hours for the couple; after all, these were two very big, overdue demon babies of gluttony being pushed out by a mom they've seriously weakened for months now. Yet despite the odds, both Mama and babies made it out okay.
Beel kissed his girlfriend's head and watched as she fed their girls. Their girls. This was really happening. Beel was a daddy. His sweet Muffin was a mama and those sweet girls feeding from her chest were their daughters, sporting his hair, eye color, horns, even delicate versions of his wings, but still had all of their mother's facial features. They were identical, unlike him and Belphie, but the demon truly hoped the two could forge just as strong of a bond together as he had with his twin.
When the two were done drinking, Beel took the one from MC's left arm and brought her into his own. Just then, a knock came to the door and it clicked open to reveal Belphie, who Beel texted a few minutes ago; he wanted his twin to be the very first one to see his daughters.
The couple smiled at him.
"Belphie, come see them." MC invited him to come closer.
The seventh brother approached the bed and gave a small smile.
"So... whose who?"
MC looked up to Beel, letting her boyfriend introduce them. The man smiled.
"This is Arsenia." The redhead stared down at the little girl in his arms, kissing her head before looking to the one in MC's arms. "And right there is Anais."
The three talked for a bit and watched the babies before MC needed to sleep. Beel laid the twins in their cribs before giving his Muffin a quick kiss on her head.
"Sweet dreams, Muffin. Thank you for everything." He smiled.
Bad End:
Twelve hours. Twelve hours of labor that seemed like it was going no where. The first baby was barely even crowning after all this time and MC was losing what remained of her strength. The woman honestly didn't know how much more she could take.
Beel felt so helpless as he watched her struggle. He was so hyperfocused on his Muffin that he hadn't even thought of food once during these twelve hours and even a non gluttony demon would be getting hungry right then.
It took another hour, but MC eventually got the head out and then the shoulders. But that was it. That was as far as she made it. She had lost the last of her strength and just... faded away at that moment. Beel couldn't accept it at first and just kept calling her name and shaking her shoulder, begging her to wake up. But she didn't. The man let out a howl of pain before collapsing on his knees in sobs. He cried for a minute before remembering his girls.
Beel quickly shot up and freed the first baby, Arsenia, from her mother's body. Anais... Anais, he never got to save. They never knew it, but the cord had been wrapped around her neck for most of the labor and she left them before even MC did.
And just like that, the Avatar of Gluttony lost his Muffin and one of his daughters. As he held tightly to Arsenia though, he vowed that he would never, ever let any harm come to her.
Beel was a loving, but fiercely protective father. His daughter handled it in stride for the first twelve years of her life, but after that, grew to really resent him. He never let her truly live her life. By fifteen, she actually ran away to the Human realm in search of what was left of her mother's side of the family, leaving a note saying that she couldn't handle him suffocating her anymore. Arsenia had succeeded in finding her grandma and Lucifer convinced Beel to just let her be for a few days. Then he came to get her and the two had a heart to heart talk.
The man didn't know how he could grow to let go more; all he knew was his fear. This was his daughter. His worse nightmare was losing her just like he did with MC and Anais. But he knew if he didn't learn then he was just going to lose her in another way. The man just didn't know what to do anymore. Not without MC, who kept him grounded. Not without MC, who he sees everytime he looks at his daughter's face. And so he was stuck feeling desperate and lost and just wanting his daughter to understand him and be happy.
Belphegor:
After the two's three month fight, Belphie was dedicated to taking care of MC.
He was an ass to her when he found out of she was pregnant and he knew it, never even denied it, but it came from a place of fear and love for his human.
Seeing just how important this baby was to her though... it was enough for him to bury his fear deep inside of himself for her. He had to; she needed him and he was not going to abandon her again.
Her second trimester was... well, let's just say he stepped in to support her at just the right time.
MC was always so exhausted and went through her days in almost a daze.
She even passed out at the dinner table one evening, face falling straight onto her plate.
Normally, the Avatar of Sloth would find this funny, but the pregnancy had him on edge.
She woke up fairly easily though. Just a couple shakes of her shoulder and the woman was lifting her head, wondering why there was mashed potatoes in her hair.
That was enough for him though. Belphie picked his girlfriend up and carried her to his room. He cleaned the food out of her hair before laying her back on the bed.
"I'm sorry..." She mumbled.
"Don't apologize, Butthead." He said softly, pulling her to his chest.
He knew she couldn't help it. In general, pregnancy could be tiring, but when the baby daddy is the literal Avatar of Sloth? Yeah, that made things harder.
The human fell asleep, barely staying conscious long enough to hear his response.
Belphie leaned in and kissed her forehead.
Even after such an early bed time, MC didn't wake up in the morning. Or the afternoon. Belphie was tense as hell, but tried to be patient.
Around 3pm, after sleeping for about twenty hours straight, the man tried shaking his girlfriend awake. But she wouldn't.
Belphie started freaking out and shaking her harder. She still wouldn't wake up.
He had to triple check that she was alive. And she was; the woman still breathed slow, sleepy breaths and had a calm pulse like any sleeping person would.
But she wasn't waking up? Why?
At some point, the younger brother wasn't sure when, but Beel had gotten up and rushed to Lucifer.
The oldest brother put a hand on his youngest brother's shoulder, stopping him from shaking the human anymore.
Belphie instantly shook the oldest off and gave him a glare.
"Stop, she's not waking up!"
"Shaking her is not going to help the situation."
Belphie was frustrated with the Avatar of Pride, but knew he was right. But what else could he do?
Lucifer did most of the talking with Beel after that. The two went back and forth on different things as Belphie simply held his girlfriend close.
Eventually, the two left the room and came back with Satan, book in hand. Belphie growled as the blonde approached the bed.
Satan sighed.
"Enough with that. I believe I know a way to figure out the problem."
And with that, the fourth brother explained step by step everything he was going to do.
The boyfriend scowled, but let the blonde do what he needed to do.
Satan opened his book and laid it on the bed. He gave a glance at the page before pulling down the blanket and raising up the woman's shirt.
Belphie growled again, but stopped as Beel laid a hand on his arm. The man then took a deep breath and just sat up, watching the blonde's movements carefully as he guarded his girlfriend. Yeah, Satan was his brother, but more importantly, that was his girlfriend the blonde was messing with. Whatever he does, he better be gentle.
The three other men watched as the Avatar of Wrath drew a rune around MC's navel. The woman stirred, making some noises in her sleep, but didn't awake.
When the blonde finished the rune, it glowed a very bright purple. The fourth brother raised an eyebrow at this.
"It's... not supposed to do that." The blonde picked up his book, rereading the passage once more.
"What did you do?" Belphie immediately jumps to the worse scenarios.
Satan waved off his words and continued to read the passage.
"It's suppose to glow green since I am the rune's scripter... however, it shows itself in your color."
The Avatar of Sloth didn't say a word; he didn't understand what was going on. He looked down at his human, whose sleep had turned a bit restless since the other man drew the rune on her.
The fourth brother finally sat down the book and reached out to lay his hand on the rune
...and was immediately shocked.
Satan cursed and pulled his hand towards his chest.
"What happened?" Lucifer asked.
The fourth brother just shook his head and breathed for a minute in order to keep calm.
"It... I seemed to be locked out." The blonde answered in a controlled voice.
"What do you mean, you're locked--"
"It means I don't have control over the rune!" The Avatar of Wrath snapped at the oldest before taking a deep breath. "Belphie, you do it."
"Do what?"
"Just put your hand on the rune; it'll do the rest."
Belphie stared at his brother for a minute before slowly laying his hand on MC's belly, right above the rune.
Suddenly, his eyes glowed as his brain was flooded with information.
Okay, first off, he learned the rune was purple because of the baby. As soon as they sensed the rune intruding on their safe place, the baby locked Satan out... apparently to protect themselves and their mother. Belphie only has access because they seem to trust him.
It also seemed that the baby has inherited their dad's protective instincts. Belphie approves.
That's not the only thing they got from him though.
The reason MC has been out cold for past twenty hours is because they inherited their dad's miasma powers, the ability that he uses with his aura to weaken people and put them to sleep
The very same power he used the night he killed MC.
Belphie wanted to curse, to scream, to aim all his anger at the little being doing this to her
But then he discovered why.
The baby... they sensed their mama's great distress, something MC had been trying so hard to hide from him.
It all went back to the first revelation; the baby was protective of their mother. They weren't just protecting her from outside forces, but from herself too.
Lastly, he learned learned that there was no single baby; there was two
Twins. A boy and a girl.
Belphie pried away his hand so quickly that he almost fell off of the bed. If it wasn't for Beel being right behind him and catching him, he would have.
"What is it?" His twin asked.
Oh dear devil, where should he even start? The seventh brother didn't even know if he wanted to say anything; he just wanted time to let it all sit within him, but he had three pairs of eyes trained on him at the moment.
Belphie glanced down at MC's sleeping face and a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. She was essentially being drugged into sleep by his kids. Once again, this was his fault.
Sensing how overwhelmed his twin was, Beel turned to Lucifer and said some things that the younger twin didn't even try to hear before the oldest and the blonde left the room, leaving the twins alone.
Belphie sat with his knees to his chest and hid his face in his arms.
Beel came up and hugged his brother.
"It's my fault..." Belphie's voice cracked.
The younger twin told the redhead everything, who listened patiently to all of it.
Beel's arms tightened around his brother.
"You know she wouldn't blame you for it." Beel told him.
"Doesn't change the fact that it's my fault..."
The twins talked together for a little over an hour. After that, Belphie fell asleep next to MC and Beel left to update Lucifer.
The conclusion? Wait. All they could do for now is wait. Satan looked into some human-safe potions that would be strong enough to wake MC if she took too long, but otherwise, waiting is all they could do.
Two days later, MC woke up in severe need of water. Beel ran to go get some for her as Belphie held her close, relief washing over him.
A few bottles of water later, MC asked what happened.
Belphie didn't know what to say. Or rather... how to tell her.
But he did. He admitted everything with a heavy heart and actually apologized to her.
Wide eyed, his girlfriend pulled him in for a hug.
"Hey... none of that." She told him. "I'm fine, I-- it's okay."
The two laid there and cuddled for a while. Belphie laid with his head on her chest, feeling it rise and fall with each breath (and being incredibly grateful for each one) as his girlfriend stroked his hair.
"So...twins?" She asked softly. "How...how do you feel about that?"
Belphie let out a sigh. How could she lay there and worry about him despite the situation she was in?
It didn't help that the demon honestly had no clue to how to answer that. How did he feel about any of this now?
He hated all of this in the beginning and he resented this baby for even existing. Since his experience with the rune and getting the chance to understand the babies inside of her... he really didn't know.
They seemed... anxious and overall just wanted to protect their mother. That was no different from Belphie himself.
His twins just... devil, he could feel his heart softening for them as he thinks over everything.
He didn't resent them anymore, but how did he feel about them? About there being two of them?
Honestly, it sounded like a hassle. Even once this whole pregnancy is done with, MC and him will have twice the responsibility; he was exhausted just thinking about it.
Still, he accepted it all.
"Dummy, you shouldn't be worrying about what I think." Belphie shook his head. "...How do you feel about it?"
Silence.
"A bit... scared." She admitted. "I don't want you to get overwhelmed again and... and leave me."
Belphie sat up and stared down at her.
"I'm not leaving you. Ever." He said firmly. "I know I was a dick in the beginning, but I'm staying with you. Period."
MC looked away.
"Y-Yeah, but..."
Devil, he had to keep her stress levels down or their twins are gonna drug her again. The demon leaned in and kissed his girlfriend before laying his head back down on her chest.
"I love you, Butthead." He mumbled. "I'm not leaving you or our kids so stop worrying."
He could feel her body relax underneath him.
Months went by with very little issues. She went through somedays with a really froggy mind and that was concerning on it's own because she was extra clumsy like this, tripping over furniture and starting little fires in the kitchen.
Belphie and Beel were always hovering around her because of this, ready to catch her when she tripped. They also took over her cooking duty and took turns. MC felt bad and said she should be contributing more, but Belphie would always silence her with a kiss and tell her she's contributing enough by carrying his little gremlins.
This made her smile because she knew he was joking. If he was able to joke about them like that then there must be affection for them underneath it all. And she was right.
Her coma-like sleeps were rare but they did happen twice more in her pregnancy. Luckily between Belphie and Beel, they were able to keep her stress down enough to where it usually wasn't an issue.
Good End:
MC had woken him up in the middle of the night. Her contractions started while she was asleep and woke her up when they got too strong for her to sleep through. Belphie woke up to her crying and clinging to him.
From 3am to 9am, a long six hours, MC labored hard till she pushed both twins out. Their son had his dad's dark hair while their daughter had MC's hair. Both had Belphie's purple eyes though. Their daughter had their dad’s horns while their son had their dad’s tail.
MC held their son close to her chest as Belphie held his daughter. He stared down at the little girl, who lightly squirmed in his arms and let out soft cries.
"Belphie..."
He looked over to his girlfriend, just to notice that he himself had been crying as he watched his daughter. The demon looked away, blushing. After a moment, he spoke.
"I know we really didn't talk about this beforehand... but I want to name her Lilith."
His girlfriend gave him a smile.
"Of course."
The two discussed it for a few minutes and decided to name their son Judas.
Bad End:
Things fell apart early in MC's eighth month. The woman suddenly just collapsed where she stood, seconds after whispering Belphie's name and trying to reach out to him. The man caught her before she hit the floor. She had suddenly fallen into one of her comas. But why? He thought his girlfriend was okay, but apparently she had been bottling some feelings up. She would have had to have been or otherwise their children wouldn't be doing this to her.
It was three days later that Belphie woke up in the night to feel that the bed was wet. Very wet. MC's water broke! She was still in her coma though so how did this work?? Even with the contractions, could she birth the twins if he she wasn't awake to push?? Belphie quickly woke up Beel who in turn rushed to Lucifer. The oldest called a doctor, who had Belphie stay outside of the room.
The youngest brother paced back and forth in the hallway, cussing, and overall more awake then he has been all of his demon life.
In the end... MC didn't make it. But the twins did. The twins survived even when his girlfriend didn't and that fact destroyed him.
For the first two years of their life, Belphie had absolutely nothing to do with his kids; Beel raised them for him. It wasn't because of what you might think. Belphie didn't resent his kids or blame them for their mother's death like he thought he would. Belphie was drowning in self-hatred because it was his fault. He believed this with every fiber of his being. He couldn't even look at his children, especially Lilith, who he saw both MC and his sister within her whenever their eyes met.
Eventually, he got his shit together, at least somewhat. He always needed help though so Lilith and Judas were raise by both their father and their Uncle Beel. Belphie was pretty laid back as a father so between him and Beel, the kids had the freedom to do just about anything. However, they grew to be a bit bratty. Good hearted, but bratty. Any time anyone other than he or Beel tried to discipline them or said anything awful to his kids, Belphie was ready to murder a bitch and slowly at that; it was a lot easier to set this man off now as a parent. Luckily, Beel was always able to drag him away and calm him down.
Those around them were always put on edge by the Avatar of Sloth's presence because of this; even the other brothers weren't sure how to interact with him somedays. Still, his kids were safe and between himself and Beel, they never went without anything. They grew up loved and protected... just like MC wanted.
He sometimes got into these depressive moods when he thought of her and couldn't leave his bed. At first, Beel would try to occupy the kids elsewhere so he could have his space and the twins didn't have to see their daddy like that. One day though, when they were five, they snuck away and into the attic room that he hid in. Wordless, the two just climbed into bed with him and he held them close to his chest.
As much as he missed MC... he loved his kids and moments like that reminded him just how important they are to him. There was once a time where he told himself that if he had to choose between MC and their kids, he wouldn't hesitate to choose her; he simply couldn't imagine how he could care about anyone as strongly as he does her. Now that they're here though, he doesn't have to imagine it; it's his reality and though he missed MC with every fiber of his being, he wouldn't trade his children for anything in the three realms.
~
Part 1 | Part 2
#obey me#obey me otome#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me mc#obey me pregnant mc#obey me next gen
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Aftershocks - Night 1
Night 1 | Night 2 | Night 3 | (deleted scene)
[Summary: Peter Maximoff is an unflappable sorta guy. He’d never let anything get to him before, and this recent misadventure will be no different. ...Right?
Warnings: mild language, references to injury, general trauma-related angst
Notes: Peter Maximoff x reader, of the established relationship variety. A ‘what if Fietro really was Peter?’ scenario. Same continuity/reader character from Linger and Late-bloomer. ]
On your first night back from Westview, you hesitate at Peter’s door. You’ve gotten so close to saying goodnight to each other half a dozen times, but here you still are.
“Why don’t you stay for a while?” Peter asks after an awkward few seconds of silence. “I’m not really all that tired. Are you?”
“Not really,” you lie.
Judging by the dark circles under Peter’s eyes, he’s not being entirely honest either.
It was late afternoon when you’d gotten back. Well, it was late afternoon here, at least. The passage of time in Westview was nebulous, to say the least.
Hank had been there to meet you when you all emerged from the portal – Peter, yourself, Mr. Lehnsherr and the professor, and the newcomers: Wanda Maximoff and her twin sons, Billy and Tommy. Hank summarily hurried you all off to the lab for debriefing, and also for a precautionary exam. Who knew what side-effects there could be from traveling between realities?
None, as it turns out. Wanda and the boys were just fine. Peter was a little dehydrated and underfed, but was otherwise in good health. You were ultimately the most scuffed-up from the experience.
In addition to the same issues as Peter, you’d amassed a fair amount of cuts and scrapes and bruises. Thankfully, the worst of it is just a badly sprained knee that’ll take several weeks to heal. Inconvenient, but bearable.
Peter has been pretty positive the whole time. If anything, he’s maybe a little too chipper, all things considered. But then again, he was immersed in playing cool uncle to the twins, and was probably just trying to keep their spirits up. They’d been through quite a lot, too.
“You should at least try to sleep, though,” you say, as you limp into Peter’s room.
Peter scoffs good-naturedly. “Are you trying to baby me?”
“Well, one of us has to be the responsible one.”
Peter rolls his eyes. Before you can blink, he’s changed into shorts and an old Pink Floyd t-shirt. He leans in to kiss you.
“I’ll try to sleep if you’ll at least sit down,” he says. “Deal?”
You smile. “Deal.”
As Peter climbs into bed, you settle yourself on the sofa. To say that it’d been a long few days would be understating things to a criminal degree.
You’d stepped through a mysterious portal to rescue Peter from wherever he’d been abducted to. You’d found that the culprit was a witch who’d taken him in an attempt to steal the power of another witch, and that witch is an alternate reality version of Peter’s sister… sorta? Or maybe not. You still aren’t completely clear on how any of this works.
Regardless, you’d ended up helping a woman named Captain Rambeau – who has powers like a mutant, but apparently isn’t one – to free Peter from the witch’s control. And then the young sons of Peter’s not-sister were in danger from some military creep, because said military creep had apparently made a cyborg zombie version of Wanda’s late husband.
Or something. Again, this was a lot to take in in a short period of time.
And no sooner had the business with magic and the military been cleared up than the professor and Mr. Lehnsherr appeared, intending to serve as backup. Luckily, there was no need.
Peter went to make his goodbyes and, in true Peter Maximoff fashion, wound up inviting Wanda and her sons to come back to the mansion with all of you. You weren’t the least bit surprised that the professor was fully on board with this. He’s always the first to reach out with compassion to a soul that’s lost and hurting.
What shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did was hearing Mr. Lehnsherr do the same. Between the three of them, Wanda was convinced to come to the school and to learn about her powers in a place where she and her sons would be safe and among friends.
It was at this point that Peter was trying to be in two places at once – serving as liaison to Wanda and the boys, and also making sure that you were alright. He only succeeded in making everyone dizzy, until Mr. Lehnsherr stepped in. He instructed Peter to focus on guiding the newcomers and volunteered to look after you himself. You found yourself leaning on Mr. Lehnsherr for support as you limped through the portal and back to your own world.
“Y’know what I can’t stop thinking about?” says Peter.
“Hmm?”
He turns to grin at you. “Your strawberry rhubarb pie.”
“I know I canned some of that this summer,” you say. “Do I have any left…?”
“If you don’t, one of the students has plant manipulation powers. I’m just sayin’.”
You laugh, and the conversation goes on in much the same vein - talking about a hundred little things that don’t matter.
Westview isn’t brought up, and neither are witches and magic. Nobody mentions Wanda and her twin sons in the room down the hall.
Peter hadn’t been able to give very clear answers to Hank’s questions about his experience. He said that it was all pretty blurry, and chalked up to a side-effect of that weird mind-control necklace thing.
You aren’t sure whether this is cause for worry or not.
The conversation with Peter has been fading in and out for a while now. Typical sleepover experience, really. Silence for a few minutes, and then a bit of banter, and a scattered response here and there, and then more silence.
It’s… It’s actually been silent for a while now. And when did your eyes close, anyway?
You look at the clock to see that over an hour has passed since you last checked the time. But you’re awake now, and you find that you’re not tired anymore. Moonlight streams through the windows, falling across Peter’s bed. He’s still sleeping, thank goodness.
At first you think that the sudden sense of reassurance is just because Peter’s getting some rest. He’s had quite the experience, after all. But there’s more to it than that. You realize that you’re just glad that Peter’s home and safe.
You haven’t really thought about it before, but part of you had always seen Peter as, well, sort of invincible. He’s clever, and capable, and impossibly fast. He can outpace an explosion. He can redirect bullets as easy as breathing. Nothing outside of a godlike entity or an otherworldly power had been able to touch him.
But you can’t stop thinking about this other man – this Pietro. He was fast, too, and he was probably just as capable. That didn’t prevent him from being shot to death while saving the lives of two other people.
Odd coincidental similarities aside, Peter and Pietro aren’t the same. You know this. And yet… You’ve already almost lost Peter once.
In Westview, once you’d found yourself abruptly separated from Vision, you’d realized that you were in way over your head. There was something sinister going on, and you had no idea whether Peter’s kidnapping was a part of it, or if it was something else entirely.
You’d wandered the streets, trying your best to look like you were supposed to be there. At first glance, everything seemed normal. But the more you looked, the more things just felt… off.
It seemed to be summer, but there were no kids at the pool, or in the park, or riding their bikes up and down the block. All the cars looked just a little too shiny and new for a small town. All the yards were too perfectly manicured. Every single person wore well-coordinated outfits. It all felt staged.
Down the block, you noticed a mailbox labeled with the name “Vision,” and-
You hesitated. Maybe best not to go barging in, right? Leaning against a streetlight, you pretended to rummage for something in your bag while you kept an eye on the house. Again, the oddly regimented behavior continued. People walked past the house at intervals that seemed random at first, but weren’t quite. It was more like they were spaced out intentionally to seem random.
Aside from that bit of weirdness, nothing unusual had happened. You hadn’t seen any trace of Peter in your wanderings. This Vision guy was your only lead. Steeling yourself, you started walking down the street, intent on knocking on that door and figuring out the rest from there.
And that’s when somebody clamped a hand over your mouth and twisted your arm, pinning it behind your back. Before you had a chance to struggle or even scream, the scenery in front of you blurred and darkened.
You blinked. The world was still again. You were in a dark, oddly-shaped room. It might’ve been hexagonal, but you couldn’t move to look around. The person who’d grabbed you was still holding you immobile.
“So, they sent another one in, huh?” said an unfamiliar voice. “You’d think they would’ve learned by now, but that’s military types for you.”
The speaker stepped into view. It was a woman – middle-aged and dark-haired. She wasn’t worried like Vision had been, nor was she blithely serene like the other people you’d seen. Her presence was commanding, unconcerned. There was something about the way she sized you up that unsettled you.
“I’ve got it from here, thank you,” said the woman.
The other person released you, and you immediately felt some strange energy wind around you. It tightened around your wrists and ankles, binding them fast, and yanked you several inches into the air.
“Who are you? Let me go!” You struggled to free yourself, but you couldn’t budge the restraints even an inch. Even your powers seemed to glance off them ineffectually.
The woman raised an eyebrow.
“Now that’s interesting,” she said. “How did you manage to get into Westview with your personality intact? Even he was calling himself ‘Ralph’ at first. You’re not with S.W.O.R.D., are you? And I can tell already you’re not a witch. Let’s see…”
The woman made some complex gesture with her hands. A purple mist crept across your vision. You felt something wrapping itself around your mind – covering it like a net, humming like an electric current. You shook your head, trying to clear it away, but it clung like a spider web.
The professor. Just before you’d left, he placed some sort of psychic shielding around your mind, just in case. He wasn’t sure what sort of dangers you’d be facing. You doubt this was what he’d been anticipating, but whatever this woman was trying to do to you, the shield resisted it.
The woman’s eyes narrowed. You felt the web’s grip on your mind tighten, vice-like. At first it was just uncomfortable, but the pressure increased until it was a stranglehold on your consciousness. The edges of your field of vision started to go gray. There was a pounding in your head, a ringing in your ears. You tried to scream.
You couldn’t breathe.
You couldn’t breathe.
And then its hold released, leaving you gasping for air. If you hadn’t been suspended in midair like that, you would’ve collapsed. The woman watched you with something like fury in her eyes.
“What are you?” she demanded.
Dazed, you blurted out an answer. “I’m nothing. I’m nobody. I’m just trying to find my friend.”
You nearly ignored the movement in the corner of your eye as you tried to pull yourself together. You’d honestly forgotten that there was somebody else in the room. You looked up, and-
Your blood ran cold.
“Peter!”
He was there. He was alright! He-
No. No, he wasn’t. Something was wrong.
Peter watched you with the blank, nonchalant gaze of a stranger.
“Sorry, babe,” he said, shrugging. “Peter’s not here right now.”
“Wha… What did you do to him?!”
You wrenched uselessly at the restraints and Peter… he actually laughed.
“What, him?” said the woman. “He’s fine. I needed a replacement Pietro, and he was the best I could do on short notice.”
She eyed him critically, reaching up to adjust his hair like some sort of demented stage mom.
“Get your hands off him!” you snarled. “And who the hell is Pietro?”
The woman laughed incredulously. “You’re really not from around here, are you? You followed him from that other reality, and- Oh. Oh… I see it now. Oh, that’s too adorable. You’re in love with him.”
Her laugh turned into something that was almost a cackle, and Peter joined in. You felt sick.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do to this town, but Peter’s got nothing to do with it. Let him go.”
“What I’m trying to do-? Oh, pumpkin, you have no idea what you stumbled into.” The woman shook her head in feigned sympathy. “Sorry, but I’m not done with my Fietro yet. And as for you… I won’t be able to get rid of you, but I can’t have you running around getting in my way. I’ll just have to put you someplace for safekeeping, and I know just the spot.”
The woman raised her hand again, and smiled menacingly at you.
“You can try to tell them who you really are,” she said, “But I wouldn’t count on anybody believing you where you’re going. Buh-bye, hon!”
Movement in the room catches your attention, drawing you out of your reminiscing.
Peter stirs in his sleep. He reaches out for a moment, and then his hand falls back onto his chest. He exhales heavily – not quite a sigh – and is still once again.
Then, his hand moves restlessly towards his throat, fingers gripping at nothing like he’s trying to pull at the collar of his shirt, or-
“No, please,” he mumbles, “Please…”
Your knee is stiff from being motionless for so long. It just about gives way under you as you scramble to Peter’s side. You stumble, falling rather than sitting on the edge of the bed.
You catch Peter’s hand in yours and smooth his hair back from his forehead.
“Peter?” You’re surprised at how frantic your voice sounds. “Peter, wake up!”
Peter snaps awake with a gasp. He yanks his hand free of yours, scrambling to push himself back towards the headboard and staring wildly around the room.
You hold up your hands where he can see them, careful not to reach towards him at all. “It’s okay! It’s okay. It’s just me.”
“You…?” Peter stares at you for a moment, as though trying to remember where he is. “Listen, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but can you tell me something only you would know? Anything. Please.”
For a second, your mind goes blank. Something only you would know? You’d spent enough time with Peter that there has to be…
You’ve got it.
You look Peter in the eyes, giving him a little smile. “Who else would know that you’re my hummingbird?”
Peter’s laugh is brief, but genuine. You’d called him that once as a joke – saying that it’d be a fitting codename with his speed, attitude, and love of sugar – and it’d since become your teasing pet name for him. You’d never said it in front of anyone else, though. You may only use it to get a rise out of him, but you never wanted it to become an embarrassing nickname for him or anything.
Peter’s initial panic is replaced by an apologetic smile, but you’re certain that his heart is still racing.
“Thanks. And I’m sorry,” he says. “Bad dreams, y’know?”
“No kidding. You wanna talk about it?”
“I…” Peter looks away, frowning slightly. “I can’t say I actually remember what I was dreaming about, to be honest.”
If you were unsure before, you’re definitely starting to worry now. You make up your mind to talk to Hank and the professor about Peter’s memory lapses. Maybe it’s nothing, but for your own peace of mind, at least…
Still, you don’t want to let on to Peter that you’re worried about him.
“Are you gonna be okay?” you ask. “Need me to get you anything?”
Peter musters up a grin. “Oh, I’ll be fine. And there’s no way I’d send you off to get anything for me with your knee all messed up. But… would you mind staying a little longer? Or you don’t have to leave at all. I mean, it’s already late, and it’s pretty cold out there.”
“I don’t have anywhere to be,” you say, smiling gently. “You just lay back down, alright?”
Peter nods. Once he’s resettled himself under the covers, you lean down to kiss him.
“I love you,” you say.
“I love you, too.”
Peter reaches over to hold your hand. He takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes again.
That Peter falls back asleep within the hour is a testament to how wore out he must be. As for yourself, you remember seeing the horizon brightening outside the window before you finally drift off.
#peter maximoff x reader#peter maximoff#peter maximoff fanfiction#x men fanfiction#wandavision fanfic#(I mean... it’s both and neither)#who ordered the angst? ... nobody?#well have it anyway. it’s on the house
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hi!! for roe, can i request a part two to the commander reader one?? maybe written with the events that happen when zuko asks if he can join the group (and when katara splashes him with her water bending, the reader deflects it)? the rest is up to you. thanks!! 🥺♥️
i love when yall request part 2s deadass
part 1
Being in the Fire Nation again made your skin crawl. It really was awful. You kept thinking that every voice behind every mask of every soldier was going to be an old friend from the academy. It kept you paranoid, and distracted, which was really the worst thing you could be on the Day of Black Sun.
Sadly, even a military strategist like you couldn’t have predicted what happened that day. You didn’t really want to make Sokka feel worse, so you couldn’t say much about it, but you were angry you’d wasted the day, the eclipse.
And running into Azula had made your skin crawl.
She greeted you like an old friend- you were. And in her discussion of how she’d known of the invasion, she let slip that one little detail, the one that had made your heart stop cold.
She said that Zuko was ‘gone’.
You knew that Azula lies, its all she’d ever done. And yet, you couldn’t help but wonder- he was a banished prince, one who’d let you get away even though you were in league with the avatar. He, as Katara had put it a month earlier, could’ve pieced it together than Aang was alive. You knew how deeply punishment ran in the Fire Nation, you’d seen it first hand.
Zuko had failed to kill the Avatar in Ba Sing Se. Could his father have killed him for it?
You loved him deeply, even to this day. He’d never hurt you, so though you listened and understood when Aang and Katara and Sokka talked horribly of him, you’d never agree. You saw a glimmer of hope in him, when he let you go in the earth kingdom, and for just one moment in Ba Sing Se. You’d always harbored hope that he would one day return to your side, and help the avatar, but-
He couldn’t do that if his father had killed him.
“Gone”.
She was done speaking to you by the time the fighting started, and although you protected your friends, your mind wasn’t up to the task of focusing enough to win the battle. You cursed yourself for it- you were Fire Nation too, you knew what she was doing, damn it. You knew that she was a liar by nature, but you couldn’t help but worry, be terrified.
The eclipse ended. The day ended. You had to go, and leave so many of your fellow soldiers behind. You wished you could save them all- but you knew what had to be done.
You were the only firebender Aang knew. You had to train him. The problem was- you never learned much more firebending than the basics that Iroh had taught Zuko in the winter. Sure, you knew them by heart, and they served you well, and sure you’d figured out some moves of your own in facing down firebenders all spring and summer, but you couldn’t help but feel inadequate for training the avatar.
You gave him what you could. You hoped it was enough.
You didn’t quite grieve for Zuko, because you told yourself that Azula must have been lying, just like she was about Suki. She had to be. Zuko wouldn’t go down that easily, even to his father. Iroh wouldn’t have let it happen. You had to believe that Azula was saying it just to get in your head.
She’d succeeded in distracting you during that one battle, on that one day. You wouldn’t let her do it again.
Lucky for you, it wasn’t long before she was proven wrong.
Sometimes, thoughts come at you all at once. You have a thousand different reactions and in the moment, you have to chose one. Sometimes, though, your reaction is instant, but follows down a train of thought that happens in hardly the blink of an eye, when you think so fast that it transcends words.
This was what happened when you saw Zuko. You were filled with relief, and you wanted to hug him, your old friend, who you were so sure was dead, even though you tried to convince yourself otherwise. You were about to take a step forward when you realized it would make you look like a traitor to your friends, and so from behind Katara you said “forgive me” before rushing forward, and hugging him, exactly like you’d wanted, with a breath of his name.
But the euphoria of seeing him alive faded while you remembered what he was likely here for. He was the enemy of Aang. So you let go, and walked backwards to your friends again, standing at Aang’s side, where you knew you’d make your allegiance clear. You hoped that they would understand why you’d needed to hug him.
“I heard you guys flying around down there, so I just thought I’d. Wait for you. Here.” Zuko was as awkward as you’d ever seen him in your life, back when he was a bumbling preteen. It almost made you smile, but you couldn’t, quite. Appa’s roar had always made you flinch, but as much as you expected to see the prince eaten then and there, Appa instead licked him, and you caught the way that it affected Aang. Why did the bison trust him?
“I know you must be surprised to see me here,” Zuko said, and you narrowed your eyes, as surprised as he expected. Sure, he was alive, and you were happy about that. But why now? He hadn’t been chasing the avatar for months, even before Ba Sing Se. Why did he come now?
“Not really, since you’ve followed us all over the world,” Sokka said, and you could feel the combat rising in your friends beside you. They didn’t get it. Zuko wasn’t the most strategic person in the world, but he was smart. If he was here to fight them, he wouldn’t have come alone. He wouldn’t have come without armor on.
“Right, well, uhh...” He was so awkward, it was almost painful. How was this the same prince that you’d known just a few months ago? “Anyway, what I wanted to tell you about is that I’ve changed. And I, uh, I’m good now. And, well, I think I should join your group. Oh, and I can help teach firebending, since I know Y/N doesn’t know some of the higher stuff. See, I, uh-” You shared a glance with Aang, briefly. You were surprised by practically everything he was saying- he’d had a change of heart? He wanted to help the avatar?
He remembered that much about you?
“You want to what now?” Toph said, being cutoff only a moment later by Katara.
“You can’t possibly think that any of us would trust you, can you? I mean, how stupid do you think we are?”
“Well, you trust Y/N, and they’re from the Fire Nation, like me, so-” Zuko’s words almost insulted you. You cared for Zuko, but you and he were not the same.
“Y/N helped us from the first moment we met,” Sokka said, coming to your aid, and you looked at him briefly, almost touched he’d had such a quick response. “All you’ve ever done is try to hunt us down and capture Aang.”
“I’ve done some good things!” Zuko responded, taking a small step forward. “I let you go in that storm! I let Y/N go when I was supposed to take them prisoner! I mean, I could’ve stolen your bison in Ba Sing Se, but I set him free! That’s something.” Appa seemed to try to prove his words with another lick.
“Appa does seem to like him,” Toph conceeded. It put just the flicker of doubt in your chest, that he might be telling the truth. You hoped he was- he hadn’t lied about any of the other examples.
“He probably just covered himself in honey or something so Appa would lick him,” Sokka said, and you glanced down at yourself.
“I didn’t feel any honey when I hugged him,” you said, which earned you a quick glare from Katara, and you decided to shut your mouth.
“Still,” Sokka said, waving a hand in front of him, “I’m not buying it.”
“I can understand why you wouldn’t trust me,” Zuko said, lowering his head, “and I know I’ve made some mistakes in the past.” For a moment, you wondered if you were gullible, or perhaps naïve, to almost believe him.
“Like when you attacked our village?”
“Or when you stole my mother’s necklace and used it to track us down and capture us?”
Yeah, maybe you were.
“Look, I admit I’ve done some awful things. I was wrong to try to capture you, and I’m sorry I attacked the water tribe. And I never should’ve sent that Fire Nation assassin after you. I’m gonna try to stop him-”
“Wait, you sent Combustion Man after us?”
You were definitely naive. He sent an assassin after you- you couldn’t let yourself trust him again.
“Well, that’s not his name, but-” Oh, Zuko, why would you doom yourself like that?
“Oh, sorry,” Sokka said, boomerang held with blade toward Zuko, “I didn’t mean to insult your friend.”
“He’s not my friend!”
“That guy locked me and Katara in jail and tried to blow us all up!” Zuko took the blows and lowered his head, but then slid his gaze to Aang.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” He asked, his voice calmer now, “You once said you thought we could be friends. You know I have good in me.” After Aang didn’t respond, he looked to you.
“Y/N? Please.” For a moment, you met his eye, but after a slow heartbeat you looked away, condemning him to whatever decision Aang would reach.
“There’s no way we can trust you after all you’ve done,” Aang said, his voice strong, with no hint of hesitation, “we’ll never let you join us.”
“You need to get out of here,” Katara ordered him, “now.”
“I’m trying to explain that I’m not that person anymore!” he shouted, and you brought up your fists, as his body language clearly said otherwise.
“Either you leave, or we attack,” Sokka threatened, stopping Zuko in his tracks. His gaze fell to the ground.
“If you won’t accept me as a friend,” he said, lowering himself to his knees, “then maybe you’ll take me as a prisoner.”
“No, we won’t!” Katara snarled, stepping forward and throwing him back with a powerful wave. You knew that she wouldn’t throw him over the edge, but your heart pounded in worry all the same. “You need to get out of here, and don’t come back. And if we ever see you again- well, we’d better not see you again!” You looked away, as he stood, and walked away. You couldn’t bear to look at him.
The boy you saw in front of you, the boy that left the Western Air Temple- he was everything that you’d always wanted to see in Zuko. He was the best parts of the boy you’d once known. He was trying to make things right, and accepting the consequences of his actions. You were proud of him. And it took every ounce of your strength not to go to him, and tell him so.
You held back your voice as Katara and Sokka raged against him. You knew that their trust in you was strong, but you were Fire Nation to them, even after all this time. You knew that the foundation of your friendship was strong, but to try to convince them of the good in Zuko would be battering rams taken to load-bearing pillars. You were a strategist- you knew to hold your tongue.
Toph, on the other hand, had no such qualms. She stormed out, and you avoided the wrath of the water tribe siblings.
But Zuko proved his allegiance, first by helping take down Combustion Man, then by reasoning with Aang using more gentleness than you’d ever seen him use, at least at one time. And once again, you kept quiet, knowing that you shouldn’t actively speak out in favor for the prince. Even when Aang asked for your permission, you skirted over your opinion.
“You’ve been hurt by him far more than I. If you’re okay, then I’m okay.”
But after he’d been accepted, after he’d been given his own room, after he and everyone else had settled in, you couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t keep quiet anymore. You snuck through the hallways and into the room he’d been given, and knocked on the wall beside the archway of his door. Hopefully it would get his attention before alerting the others.
He looked up from his bags to you, and for once in his life had foresight enough to keep his voice down.
“Y/N?” He said, and you rushed through the door to hug him once again.
“Zuko,” you answered, laying your face in the crook of his neck. “I’m so happy to see you.” He hugged back, shocked by the gesture as he was.
“It’s good to see you too,” he answered, but yielded the conversation to you.
“I always knew you’d join us eventually. I knew it.” He didn’t answer, beyond resting his forehead down onto you.
He didn’t question how you knew more about his heart than he did.
He knew the answer.
tag list: @lammello @kittyddandnyla @qquell @caitiff @coldlilheart @sleeping-with-the-fishes @duh-dobrik @dxcter
-🦌 Roe
#Zuko#angst#atla imagine#atla imagines#atla reader insert#atla x reader#avatar#avatar fluff#avatar imagine#avatar imagines#avatar iroh#avatar reader insert#avatar x reader#avatar: the last airbender#drabble#fire lord zuko#imagine#imagines#prince zuko#prince zuko angst#prince zuko fluff#prince zuko x reader#reader insert#x reader#zuko angst#zuko fluff#zuko imagine#zuko imagines#zuko reader insert#fics
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The Princess and the Witcher: Extinquished
*not my gif*
Geralt x Reader
Geralt of Rivia is not a babysitter, he is not a bodyguard, and he has no interest in transporting princesses across the continent. Until gold is offered and for the next 90 days he’s saddled with a chirpy, bubbly, princess, who is betrothed to the prince of Narok and has a desire to see everything before she’s trapped behind another set of walls.
A/N: A little early post to ease off the cliff hanger from the last post, but I am also sorry to say, this is the end, so please enjoy (as much as you can)
Warnings: ANGST
“You’re here to kill me.”
Geralt didn’t think he had heard her at first.
What his ears were convinced they had heard was so absurd he wanted to howl with laughter until no sound came out and he was just shaking. This was all some silly joke, she was trying to get back at him for something, no doubt.
It was a trick, to calm him down after she dropped the news about the prince, or the lack thereof. She was afraid and it was the first lie her childish mind had come up with, something so absurd it was only told in stories about Witcher’s that were meant to frighten children. Now, she was just trying to spare herself his wrath, and honestly, he was prepared to forgive her for everything. There was no prince and she was all his, they even had a home to grow in.
He knew he would live much longer than her, but every moment would be worth it. He would bask in every moment that he could love her. He would enjoy every smile, every soft touch, every worried look she would cast him when he came home from a particularly detrimental kill. She would be his wife, of course. They couldn’t have children, but that wouldn’t stop them from trying. Oh, he was already toying with all the ways they could try to have children. In the loft, in the fields to the west, on the beach to the east, and here in this little house that they would make a home.
All he had to do was forgive her, and hold her, and assure her he was mad no longer, and then they could begin their life together. But, when he moved forward to hug her, she took a solemn step back, tears still running down her face.
“Y/N, I’m not mad, there is no need to lie,” he whispered but all she did was drop to the table and bury her face in her hands, sobbing without restrain. He wasn’t sure what to do. She was lying… and yet. No, she had to be lying. There was no way she could be telling the truth, not when this proclamation was so horrible his hands shook at the thought of it. “Y/N…”
“Please, sit down,” she cried, still hiccupping with tears. He did as she said without a word, dropping his sword for good measure. She eyed it and then turned the teary irises back to him. “I’m not lying. I wish I was, but I am not.”
“Then I have misunderstood you.”
“You have not.”
“Then you must have hit your head as you fled.”
“Geralt, you have to kill me,” she snapped, slamming her clenched fists against the table. He was silent as he stared at her hands, they were so small and undamaged.
“What makes you say such terrible things, Princess?”
“Because they’re true. That’s why we’re here. That’s why you were chosen.”
“Chosen for what?” he yelled, irritation growing as he grew more frantic. He just wanted her to admit it was all a sick joke.
“Do you remember the first night we laid together, in the inn?” she asked, and he nodded. “I told you, you were chosen because you would do whatever it takes, this is what it takes. You were chosen because my father, his advisors, and I all knew that you would do it, when the final hour is upon us you will draw up your sword and end my life.” Geralt stood from the table, shoving it into her stomach as he did so.
“If you are to die, why the trip, why not kill you in your home?”
“Because I wanted to see the world before mine came to an end. It was never to end up like this, you were never supposed to know, not until the very end. And I never meant to become so close, it was supposed to be easy, it was supposed to be easy,” she cried, reaching for him.
“You’re lying. You’re fucking lying, you don’t want to be married so badly that you want me to believe I am supposed to kill you, to end your life before someone can control you. Well, you’ve made one error, I do not kill people, I kill monsters.”
“All the better,” she replied, voice dangerously steady as she straightened herself in the stiff, wooden chair. There were still tears in her eyes, but she meant business. “Please sit down, so I can explain.” He considered leaving, shearing off a piece of her hair and marching back to her father to demand the gold he had promised him, but instead he sat as instructed. She tried to take his hands, but he pulled away. Hurt etched itself across her face but he did not search for restitution.
“It happened before I was born, I didn’t even know it had occurred until a few years ago, and even then, I found out on accident. I assume they wouldn’t have told me until today if they could have avoided it, they would want to spare my sensibilities.”
“Tell you about what?” he snapped, jerking her out of her ramblings.
“The curse.” There was a beat of silence as she waited for him to respond but when he remained quiet, she continued. “Like I said it was a few years before I was born, my father was trying to find a queen to rule along side him. He was looking for someone with royal blood, but even commoners were invited to the parties he was throwing, in hopes of creating something so extravagant that it would attract a woman just as lively as the parties.
“Among the guests was this woman. My father says she looked like an angel that had dropped from heaven like gold from a sunset. He was captivated and mesmerized, so taken aback he was nervous to approach her. He thought about it the entire first night, never quite prepared to introduce himself to the woman he was sure he would marry.
“Because he failed the first night, he hosted another party the following week, and then the one after that, trying to produce something that would be as magnificent as her. On the third week he finally succeeded in approaching her. He introduced himself, and as he nervously stumbled over his name, she must have grown enchanted, because the parties ceased, and she was brought to the palace to be prepared for the wedding.
“Much to the disgrace of the royal family, she was a commoner, nothing more than a milkmaid, but my father was enamored, unwilling to part with her even when his father threatened to send the couple far, far away. The wedding drew nearer, and they were both so happy, so in love.
“And then war broke out. Our borders were shredded to nothing more than desolation, fires ripping across our crops until our farmlands were black scars against the rich earth. The wedding was postponed and for her safety, the lovely bride was sent away to hide. She waited years, and suddenly the war abruptly ended, and she returned to the palace, prepared to wed my father. Yet, when she entered the throne room, she found another sitting on her throne. My mother, the princess of the warring country, had stolen away her place by my father’s side. A marriage of treaty was formed while she was away, and she was left heartbroken and alone, an outcast in the palace that had once welcomed her as their future queen.
“I don’t know if she was a witch or a mage, or maybe she hired someone to do it for her, but the curse was cast on me. A curse that now hangs on the cusp of erupting into violence and bloodshed, a curse that you must end before it begins.”
“What is the curse?”
“A transformation.”
“Of what kind?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Then how do you know it is worth your life? How do you know your death is undisputable?”
“Because I know it’s bad. I can feel it in my bones. I could feel it when I killed the monster. I can feel it every time I look in the mirror and my eyes seem a little more animalistic. I just know, call it intuition, call it paranoia, I know that I am destined to be a monster.”
Geralt roared in frustration, slamming the blade of his sword into the door, lodging it in the soft wood. “You can’t know that.”
“I do.”
“I cannot kill you, especially not on the gut feeling of a princess who has not left the palace before three months ago.”
“We’ll know tomorrow, and you will have to be prepared. If you are right and it is nothing more than ugliness you can leave with your sword clean, but if it is what I know it to be, you must kill me. You cannot allow another monster to exist in this world.”
“There must be a way to break the curse, there is always a way,” he growled, head resting against the split his sword had created. He could hear her standing, inching her way towards him.
“You don’t think we have tried? You don’t think my father spent eighteen years trying to find a way to free me of his mistakes? We have tried, I’ve taken every motion, endured every experiment. It still lingers just beneath my skin like thick, black smoke, ready to turn me into a nightmare.”
“I can’t kill you,” he whispered and she took his face in her hands.
“You must, for the world and for me. I would rather die than ever have to kill another living creature.”
“You are so selfish it hurts.”
“I know, but I need you to do what it takes, and I need to remember what you promised me.”
“What have I promised you?”
“That you will not linger on those you kill. You must forget me, move on and continue to do good in this world.”
“Y/N, I love you, you cannot dare to ask me to kill you, let alone forget you.” She seemed taken aback by his confession, but as she pressed her lips to his he could feel the return of her feelings.
“You must, for the world and for me.”
*******************************************************************************************
Gold is not gold.
Some is tainted with blood and loss.
And Geralt had no interest in coins that would cause him agony to spend. He was not even sure if he had wanted the gold if he would be able to enter the throne room without severing the kings head.
They had spent the night before her birthday making love. They had whispered confessions into one another’s ears long into the evening and into the night, basking in the secrecy of their affair. When she laid beneath him, he was unable to imagine her dead. She was so full of life, even with the sadness that settled itself in her eyes.
They imagined a future together, both silently and aloud. He could imagine her old and still kicking, like age couldn’t hold her back and she spoke of a twin on each hip, a boy and a girl that would talk just as much as she had when they first met. Beneath the candlelight and the peppering of kisses it was almost easy to forget it was all fake.
Then, the night had begun to draw to a close and she had lead him to the shackles attached to the wall, the hooks he had once mistaken as a tether for horses. He had begged her not to make him to do this, all while he assured her she would be okay.
The chains were tight and as the sun rose over the mountains, she was proven correct. In between screams of agony as her body transformed into a creature of no natural creation, she promised she loved him, that she would be with him, that even as his blade ended her life she would know him for nothing but sincerity and kindness.
And then he killed her, staring back into the eyes that did not change with the transformation. They seemed grateful, relieved that he went through with it, she clearly had doubts that he would be able to do whatever it took.
He buried her, it was the only life he had ever taken that he had buried, but he felt unable to leave without hiding her beneath the earth.
And then he left, in the opposite direction he had come, knowing that he would only be able to keep half of his promise.
He could kill her, but never in his lifetime would he forget her.
The End
@mallorydoesstuff @facelessfiction @aphadriel-fanfic @raspberrydreamclouds @thegreattodd @saint-hardy @ravenclawsstolemybunies @queenofmankind @britty443 @lonewolf471 @utterlyhopeful-fics @persephonehemingway @fuck-me-gently-with-a-slurpee @josis-teacup @gabbysblogthingy @sadttitude
#the witcher#the witcher angst#the witcher x reader#the witcher fanfiction#the witcher fanfic#the witcher imagine#the witcher fluff#the witcher smut#Geralt#geralt of rivia#geralt of rivia smut#geralt x reader#geralt of rivia fanfiction#geralt fanfic#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt of rivia fanfic#geralt of rivia angst#geralt of rivia fluff
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Lautrec Chain
Original Prompt: How Lautrec landed in that cell in the Undead Parish.
We did it! Another chain is complete! A big thanks goes to all the amazing artists and writers who participated in this chain. Please check out their content and blogs.
@acebladespades
“A knight of Carim is nothing without his lady.”
He looked at the man behind the metal bars.
“You knew well what was expected from you.”
He took one step closer to the cell’s door.
“So why are you still alive?”
‐---‐-----------------------------
“I love you.”
His entire world came to a stop.
Fina’s voice echoed softly in his ear.
At first, Lautrec believed it was only a trick of his wishful mind. It wasn’t until he felt Fina’s arms resting on his chest, pulling him closer in a tender embrace, that he realized everything was true.
He closed his eyes and gently put his hands on top the golden arms of his cuirass.
“I love you too, my lady.”
“Then, when the time comes, you won’t hesitate?”
Lautrec couldn’t answer. He knew his silence angered his goddess, but the question had caught him off guard.
“I see.” Fina lifted her ethereal arms, leaving Lautrec alone with the metallic replicas of his armor. “Your ridiculous honor still means more to you than I, doesn’t it? How foolish I was to think that your love and devotion for me were real.”
“They are real.” Lautrec replied. “You know well you are my everything.”
“Lies. Your claims are nothing but honeyed and vacuous words. They are so typical of you mortals. If you truly loved me, you would have answered me instantly, without any trace of doubt in your voice; yet, all you gave me was silence. That’s not the way a knight should treat his lady, is it?”
“Of course not.” Lautrec smiled in a faint attempt to appease Fina’s temper.
Fina answered by resting her hands on his belly. At first, he mistook the gesture as a sign of forgiveness. His naïve perception changed when Fina dug her nails deep into his flesh and began clawing her way up to his shoulders.
The pain left Lautrec breathless. He fell to his knees, swallowing his screams and forcing himself to endure the punishment in silence.
Even if Fina’s nails did not make him bleed nor they left visible injuries on his skin, the agony they caused him was real.
Lautrec only dared to breathe again once Fina was done. The skin where she had touched him felt burning and tender, as if her ethereal nails had been covered in fire.
“If you wouldn’t treat a vulgar wench so rudely, what makes you can act with so much disdain toward your goddess?”
Lautrec didn’t answer. Fina didn’t gave him the chance, for as soon as she was done speaking, she embraced him again from behind.
The melted together, trapped in a blissful moment that Lautrec wished would never end.
“I love you.”
Lautrec could feel the brush of her breath against his ear even through his helmet.
“It pains me to hurt you like this, but you left me no choice. Please, my knight, do not make me do this ever again. All I ask from you is an answer.”
Guilt and regret kept Lautrec glued to the floor.
“So, I’ll ask you again.”
The ring on his finger throbbed with an invigorating energy that swiftly got Lautrec back on his feet. He remained still, with only the weight of his armor and the voice of his goddess keeping him grounded in reality.
“When the time comes, will you hesitate?”
“I won’t.” His answer came so promptly that his voice clashed with Fina’s. “Never forget that I am yours.”
“Oh, my knight.” Fina whispered so lowly that Lautrec could barely hear her. “My Lautrec.”
Though she couldn’t see her, Lautrec knew she was smiling.
Underneath his golden helmet, he smiled too.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
“I must say I expected a more courageous performance from you.”
“My lady, it is one thing to fight a horde of Hollows.” Lautrec said once he was done rubbing of the filth off his helmet. “But to confront a ferocious drake, with nothing but a narrow bridge as our battlefield, wouldn’t have been brave, it would have been suicidal.”
“I suppose you are right. At the very least, I’m satisfied you didn’t end up becoming that beast’s dinner. You should be glad that its fire only brushed the surface of your helmet. Had it touched your skin, you’d be cursed with a burn that would never heal nor stop hurting.”
Lautrec had never believed such claims. He had always dismissed them as the exaggerated and baseless statements of antique books and scrolls.
But he believed Fina.
The memory of the drake and the closeness of its fire formed a hole in his stomach.
If there hadn’t been a secret passage underneath the bridge, the drake’s fire would have engulfed him whole, either reducing his body to ashes or leaving him covered in agonizing blisters.
It was seldom that Lautrec felt fear, but there was something dreadful in imagining himself at the absolute mercy of a beast.
Forcedly, he dismissed his panic from his mind. The least he wanted was for Fina to notice how scared he was.
His lady, while gracious and merciful, did not take kindly to displays of weakness of any sort, and she took great pleasure in mocking Lautrec every time he failed to keep his mental barriers up and left his most hidden insecurities exposed.
Though her derision was always heartless and poignant, Lautrec did not resent his goddess for it. He knew Fina didn’t do it out of malice, and had he been in her place, Lautrec would have done the same thing.
After all, he was a knight of Carim. To be always strong and resilient, especially when in the presence of his lady, was both his duty and his pride. If a lady mocked his knight, it was not to discourage or humiliate him, it was simply to remind him to keep the weakness of his heart in check.
Indomitable, stoic, dutiful, strong and steadfast.
Those were the true qualities of knighthood.
How Lautrec pitied the sentimental Astorans and the savage Catarinians for their deplorable and bastardized perceptions of what a knight was. They were pathetic, weak-minded and pretentious fools without a purpose.
None of them could ever understand what an honor it was for a knight to dedicate his entire existence to a lady. They couldn’t fathom the satisfaction a knight gained from being the eternal protector and the pillar of strength for his fated woman.
And if said woman was none other than Fina—
“Why are you laughing?”
“It’s nothing.” Lautrec said. “I was just thinking of how blessed I am to have you as my lady.”
Fina remained quiet.
After a small moment, she chuckled.
“You are adorable.”
She sounded amused.
Lautrec waited for her to continue.
When she did, it was only to order him to proceed with his journey. Far from being disappointed, Lautrec was pleased. Though his confession hadn’t given him the answer he’d wanted, he had succeeded in making Fina laugh.
He had made her happy.
He couldn’t ask for anything more.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
After getting rid of some meddlesome Hollows and infected rats, Lautrec managed to infiltrate the parish the drake had guarded so fiercely. He felt tempted to rest for a moment in a nearby bonfire, but Fina did not approve.
“I know you are tired.” She told him, so tenderly and motherly that Lautrec felt ashamed for having even thought about taking a rest at all. “But you cannot stop now. We are close to our destination. Once we are in Firelink Shrine, you will rest there for as long as you need. I want you strong and refreshed when your time comes to fulfill your duty.”
The reminder shattered all sense of peace and comfort Lautrec harbored. He raised his mental walls before Fina could sense his distress. This time, his weakness passed unnoticed by his goddess, but Lautrec still felt a boiling hatred for himself and his own feebleness.
Even if he could fool Fina, he couldn’t fool himself.
His rage and frustration fueled his attacks.
Every Hollow and any other abomination that crossed his way met their ends at the touch of his swords.
Lautrec fought his way through the chapel, but his streak of invincible prowess was cut short when the armored boar proved to be an enemy he couldn’t defeat.
The beast charged at him and sent him flying towards a wall of stone. If it hadn’t been for his armor, the violent crash would have broken his spine in half.
“Don’t even think about dying now.” Fina told him as he struggled to get back on his feet. “If you die, do you know how long it would take you to arrive to this place again? Seriously, if I had known you were so frail and easily defeated, I would have allowed you to rest at the bonfire. No wonder that harlot you used to look after is long dead. She was cursed to an early demise the moment you were made her guardian.”
Lautrec couldn’t move.
He felt as if Fina had dug a dagger into his chest and had ripped out his still beating heart. He would have remained there, rotting in his own bafflement for all time, if the loud trotting of the boar hadn’t snapped him out of his trance.
This time, Lautrec avoided the charging attack of the armored animal. He lunged himself forwards and landed on his chest.
Then, his instincts took over. His former bloodlust was replaced by an urgent need to survive.
He ran.
He did not look back at the enemies he left behind. He continued running, making use of his blades only if he had no other choice. Many of the Hollows he was escaping from tried to follow him, but they were slow and clumsy creatures.
The few that managed to keep up with Lautrec had their heads severed from their shoulders.
To him, his escape was little more than a blurry vision. It was as if his mind had become disconnected from his body and dull to its surroundings. At first, Lautrec tried to convince himself that his numbness was the result of his exhaustion and stress.
Like always, he failed to believe his own lies.
He couldn’t think of anything else. He continued pondering on his weakness long after he was safe again, inside the confines of an abandoned church.
How he had gotten there was only a hazy memory, as was his fight with the Hollow knights that lay dead at his feet.
His ring finger itched as if maggots were devouring it whole.
“See, my knight?” Fina told him. She caressed his chin, tracing a soft line along the bone of his jaw. “See how effective and lethal you are when properly motivated? Be thankful, Lautrec... for it is I who gave you the strength you needed to overcome your weakness. Go on, say it. Say that you are grateful to me for unleashing your best self.”
Fina rested her other hand on his chest, right above his heart.
“Say that you are grateful to me for being the only reason you are still alive.”
Lautrec’s mouth was bitter and parched. For the first time since he had become his loyal knight, he wished Fina would keep quiet and go away, if only for a moment.
All that Lautrec wanted was to be alone with his thoughts, but he was a knight of Carim. His time was not his to employ as he wished, it belonged only to his lady.
“I’m grateful.”
“Grateful for what?”
Lautrec clenched his jaw; he almost committed the offense of pulling away from Fina’s touch.
“I’m grateful to you for unleashing my best self.”
Then, he felt it. He felt how Fina tried to pierce through the barriers of his mind.
Lautrec strengthened his walls and hugged the arms of his cuirass.
“I’m grateful to you for being the only reason I’m still alive.”
“Oh, my Lautrec.” Fina kissed him in the cheek. The softness of her ethereal lips was followed by the sharpness of her voice. “If only I could believe you.”
Beads of cold sweat formed in Lautrec’s forehead. He didn’t know what scared him most, Fina’s anger or how easily she had seen through his façade.
He remained trapped together with his goddess in a cold uncertainty that felt eternal.
“You’ve got nothing to fear, my knight.” Fina said, “As long as do as I tell you, you won’t be giving me reasons to forsake you. As long as you forget about that ridiculous knightly pride of yours, killing that fire keeper will feel as natural as the beating of your heart. The act will be quick, peaceful and pleasant. She will be grateful to you for freeing her from her cursed fate. She will enjoy it, and so will you, if you just let go of your past and embrace your present.”
Lautrec’s lips quivered.
“You are Undead.” Fina continued, brushing away the only tear that escaped from his eyes. “You’ve got no lady to satisfy other than me. The teachings of your homeland have no meaning in Lordran. I am your everything; you are my knight.”
“I am.” Lautrec muttered. He was overwhelmed. Not even the darkest piece of Humanity could have granted him as much peace and comfort as Fina did.
“Then prove it to me now.” Fina’s tone changed. It remained gentle, but now her words sounded like orders. “Over there, at the altar. Do you see it?”
He did.
There it was, at the other side of the church, carved in stone and untouched by time. Behind it, he could see the statue of a woman.
“Not just any woman.” Fina corrected him with a scoff. “It’s me. Approach it, my knight.”
Lautrec obeyed. He felt like almost like a child.
The silly excitement he felt slowly vanished the closer the got to the altar, and it disappeared completely the moment his eyes understood what the strange figure laying on the altar’s surface really was.
Lautrec was used to the sight of corpses. He had been familiar with death since the time when he had been too young to become a page.
However, as unfazed as he remained by the decrepit state of the corpse before him, Lautrec trembled at the sight of the glowing orb floating just above the body’s chest.
“What a shame.” Fina said, “I would have preferred her to be alive so you could kill her, but it seems someone else already did the deed for you. You must be rather disappointed.”
“But I thought,” Lautrec swallowed before he could continue, “I thought the fire keeper would be at Firelink Shrine, locked for all eternity inside a cave, just like you told me.”
“Don’t be stupid, my knight. This fire keeper is not the same you will murder. This must be the tribute some deluded fool left here for me in a desperate attempt to earn my favor. Whoever he may be, the only thing he’s gained is my disdain. Does he honestly believe I would accept the offerings and advances of every man that comes by, as if I were a common strumpet? The gall! Does he not know that Fina handpicks her knights and followers? Does he note care? Such offense will not go unpunished! If he ever dares to come back, you will fight him, and you will kill him.”
“I will.” Lautrec promised, wishing that the offender would return and give him an excuse to step away from the altar, but no one came.
“Regardless,” Fina continued once the worst of her flaring temper had passed, “it would be a waste to refuse this soul. I will not accept the offering of a stranger, but if my knight was to offer it to me instead, everything would be different.”
There was no need for Fina to instruct him further.
Somehow, Lautrec managed to lift his arms. They felt heavy, as if they were made of stone. It took as much effort to get them closer to the corpse as keeping the barriers of his mind up did.
Yet, he could Fina trying to tear down his defenses and reach the deepest part of his mind. She wanted to see it.
She wanted to make sure that his heart was free of all regret and doubt.
Why shouldn’t it be?
Lautrec was staggered by the question as he asked it to himself.
To kill a fire keeper was the greatest sin a Carim knight could ever commit. It was an unforgiveable offense, a taint on his soul not even death could remove.
But he was not responsible for the death of this fire keeper. He had not taken her life; he had only found her rotting corpse on his goddess’ altar.
He had done nothing wrong.
He was following his lady’s commands.
So truly, he was fulfilling his duty as her knight.
He was just—
“Take it.” Fina said in his ear. It wasn’t until then that Lautrec realized his hands had remained stuck in the same position for a while. His armored fingers were so close to the fire keeper’s soul that its gentle warmth could be felt through his gauntlets. “Do it.”
“I will.” Lautrec smiled. His pulse throbbed intensely in his temples. “I am yours, remember? I love you, Fina.”
“Shut up and take it!”
That he would.
His rebellious hands had just started to listen to his commands when the blade of a rapier emerged from his chest. His blood covered the weapon, concealing the silver of the metal underneath a crimson layer.
Lautrec let out a soft gasp. It was the only sound his pierced lung could muster.
Fina did scream on his mind; more than a mournful lament, her cry resembled a roar. She cursed the stranger for spilling the blood of her servant.
She damned him for damaging that which belonged to her.
The stranger, if he could hear her, ignored the goddess with sinful indifference. Instead, he focused all his attention on Lautrec.
The stranger warped an arm around Lautrec’s neck and pulled him closer to him, further impaling him with the blade of the rapier. The weapon cut through the plates of Lautrec’s armor as easily as it cut through his flesh and bones.
“I witnessed your sin.” The stranger said as he rested his chin on Lautrec’s shoulder. “And it shall not go unpunished.”
“Kill him! Don’t you dare die without putting up a fight!” Fina exclaimed. Her voice resonated so loudly in his ears that Lautrec was surprised they didn’t start to bleed. “Kill this bastard, you useless coward! What kind of man are you? Are you even a real knight? Don’t you dare die, Lautrec. I will never forgive you if you fail me this way. If you die, I will forsake you and leave you to rot in this cursed land. I have no need nor use for weak men.”
The stranger removed the rapier from Lautrec’s body. His movements were quick, but they were not gentle.
Lautrec swallowed his pain and blood and tried to turn around. He would do as Fina said. He would not die in such a shameful way.
If a knight of Carim was meant to die, he had to meet death in the heat of battle. To perish under any other circumstances was the greatest humiliation imaginable.
“My lady,” Lautrec stuttered as he tightened his grip on his swords.
Just when he was turning on his heels, the stranger grabbed him by his helmet and violently pulled him down to the floor.
He then grabbed Lautrec’s arm and pulled it behind his back until he let go the sword. The stranger kept pulling, almost snapping Lautrec’s arm from his shoulder.
“Useless.” Fina spat at Lautrec. Her voice was venom, and it spread across his soul like a blight. “Absolutely useless. What a pitiable excuse for a man, what a mockery of a knight you turned out to be.”
The stranger said something. His voice overlapped with Fina’s.
Lautrec tried to reach out for his goddess, but he had already sunk too deep into the darkness of death. His life was leaking away from him, taking with it all of his thoughts and his strength.
Soon, all that remained inside him was exhaustion and the phantom of his own despair.
Lautrec heard a distant, chilling laughter.
It was the last thing he perceived before death claimed him.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He got no response from the knight.
Oswald waited, but it was in vain.
He knew the knight was awake and could hear him. Oswald had defeated him; then, he had healed his injuries by forcingly feeding him Estus.
Sinners like the knight did not deserve to be granted the peacefulness of death so easily. Death, contrary to what most people believed, was not a punishment or a sentence. To those with a clean conscience and an unburdened heart, death was a well-deserved rest.
Yet, even if the knight had not sinned, to let him die would be an unnecessary waste of time. He was Undead, and for all Undead, death no longer had the same meaning than for those who remained free from the curse.
“You should have taken your own life the moment you lost your lady. That’s what was expected from you, or are you not a true knight of Carim?”
Oswald said. The knight refused to acknowledge him, but Oswald did not care.
“That fact you still exist when you’ve got no lady to protect is a sin in itself. How unfortunate that the Undead curse prevents you from fulfilling this last duty... or perhaps luck has nothing to do with this matter, and you sought a way to curse yourself in a pathetic attempt to preserve your life?”
Oswald listened as the echo of his own laughter spread across the church. The knight of the golden armor, however, remained quiet and indifferent.
He had his chin glued to his chest. His hands were caressing the golden arms of his cuirass.
So, he was one of them.
Oswald’s smile almost hesitated, but he had long learned that to pour any amount of pity into those lost, deluded men was useless.
It was seldom that they broke free from their delusions, and most of them never tried at all. They became drunk on the promises of eternal love of the vainest of goddesses.
They willingly fell for her empty words.
Fina’s power over them was only as strong as the power of their own wills.
It was no wonder she always picked the most broken and feeble of knights.
“Your failure to keep your former lady alive, whoever she was, is an unforgivable sin.” Oswald said. He took a step back from the cell. He joined his hands behind his back. “But that’s not the reason I am punishing you. Whatever sins and mistakes your committed back in Carim are none of my concern, but those you commit her in Lordran are my domain. And I saw what you did, so don’t even try to deny it. At this point, accepting your fault is the least you could do to salvage what little honor remains in your rotten heart.”
The knight did react to this. He lifted his head and looked at Oswald.
Oswald couldn’t see his eyes, hidden behind his golden helmet as they were, but he could almost feel the ice-cold glare of the knight.
“I did not kill her.” He said.
There was anger in his voice, but also a deep emptiness. He would go Hollow soon.
Oswald smiled.
“Perhaps you didn’t.” He conceded. “I have no proof, so I cannot thrust the weight of this sin upon you; but I saw what you did. I saw how you tried to take her soul for yourself.”
Oswald expected the knight to say something in return. He was prepared to counter his excuses and tear apart his arguments, but the knight said nothing.
His silence was all Oswald needed to know he had condemned a guilty, dangerous man.
“If you were willing to commit such a vile act, what will stop you from killing a fire keeper yourself the next chance you get? Certainly not your conscience, even less your pride as a knight. That’s why you shall never leave this cell. You will remain here until you go Hollow.”
Oswald gave one last look to the disgraced knight before turning his back on him.
“And then I will kill you. But remember this, knight, your death is not your punishment.”
He told him as he walked toward the stairs that led to the church’s roof.
“It is merely the fate you chose for yourself.”
Oswald laughed again.
He didn’t so out of mockery or cruelty, but out of amusement.
Oh, Fina’s so-called devoted followers.
They would have been pitiable if they weren’t so pathetic in the first place.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fina had forsaken him.
The bitter solitude of her absence had almost driven Lautrec to his Hollowing, just like the death of his first lady had come close to sink him into madness.
But he had endured, though not because he was strong.
If he had been allowed to keep his sanity after losing everything, it was because he had never lost his faith.
Faith that he could make amends and regain the love of his goddess.
A faith that became invigorated after some poor idiot freed him for his cell.
A faith that was about to be cemented now that the second bell had tolled.
It was time.
He had delayed the act long enough.
It will be quick.
Lautrec thought as he grabbed the fire keeper by the neck through the barriers of her cell. She showed no emotion in her blue Astoran eyes.
It is peaceful.
Her stoic semblance not once faltered, not even as Lautrec slit her belly with a long slash of his curved sword.
It was pleasant.
Lautrec did not trust this last thought, but when his eyes meet with the agonizing and defying stare of the moribund fire keeper, he could see a glimmer of happiness in her.
It was then Lautrec knew that Fina had been right all along.
The gaze the fire keeper was giving him was not one of hatred or resentment, but of gratefulness. In the last moments of her miserable life, she was thanking him in silence.
She was grateful to him for freeing her from her everlasting torment.
She was enjoying the moment just as much as Lautrec was.
“You are welcome.”
Lautrec told the fire keeper before letting go of her fading corpse. He forgot about her as soon as her neck left his hand.
In his other hand, floating above his blood-soaked palm, there was her soul.
I did it, Fina. Can you see me?
Lautrec held the essence close to his chest. His mind, devoid of all barriers now that he had freed himself from his past fears and insecurities, was touched by the soft whisper of a goddess only he could hear.
“I do.”
Fina answered. For the first time since his defeat at the hands of the pardoner, Lautrec felt safe in the tender embrace of his one and only lady.
“My knight.”
Lautrec smiled.
He felt whole.
@pan-de-torao
@dbzespio
Lautrec leaned heavily on his knees, gazing deeply into the bonfire and its dancing flames. He sighed softly as his wounds began to heal up, and the strength returned to his body.
Yes, this bonfire had served him well. But now, he felt it was time to move on.
His posture still stooped forward, he turned his eyes upward to behold the firekeeper.
Much like his, her helm hid her face from view, and so he could not tell where exactly her gaze was directed. She was rested against the wall, her body still with a certain poise, one that indicated she was not one to be trifled with. She could hop out of that position and into a battle stance at once, and all with the ease of a well-trained warrior; he could tell.
He rose to his feet with a slight grunt of effort.
No, it would not be worth the trouble. He already had one prize; he didn’t need more.
~~
Those damned archers…
Lautrec nearly collapsed in relief at the sight of a new bonfire. He practically dragged himself to sit before it, finally allowing his gaping wounds to heal once again.
“Oh! There you are!”
Lautrec startled, snapping his head towards the voice.
But it was only a fellow knight, seated there on the floor nearby, just far enough to still be warmed by the flames. The crest on his chest held no significance; the fool had likely painted it on himself in a fit of self-grandeur, or perhaps, sheer lunacy. He also appeared to be adorned with a feather or two and... was that grass? A lunatic indeed.
Lautrec faintly recognized him; he had likely summoned the fool to assist him in battle at one point or another. He merely grunted a sort of half-acknowledgement of the knight’s words and returned his gaze to the bonfire.
The knight politely waited a few moments before speaking again. He leaned forward slightly, his voice friendly. “You’ve been awfully quiet lately. Smooth summoning out there?”
Lautrec slowly turned to face him again, wishing that his glower could melt through his helm.
“Anytime you see my brilliantly shining signature, do not hesitate to call upon me,” the knight continued. “I must say: you’ve left me with quite an impression. I would relish a chance to assist you.”
Was that fondness in his voice? Truly a fool, this man was.
Despite this, a modicum of camaraderie swelled a little within Lautrec’s chest. Fool though he was, this man was still an undead knight, trapped within this godsforsaken realm, no doubt charged with a quest similar to his own. He felt he owed the knight a warning, at the very least.
“Our futures are murky,” he finally told him, turning back to the fire. “Let’s not be too friendly now.”
“Nonsense,” the man proclaimed, the feather atop his helm swaying in place as he fervently shook his head. “You and I are bound together in not one, but two bouts of jolly cooperation!
“Whatever your quest, my good knight,” he continued, his fist held up in a firm resolve, “I feel certain you will see it through.”
“I already have.” Lautrec rose and readied himself to leave. “Now it is nothing more than a simple matter of delivery.”
~~
Breathing heavily, Lautrec willed himself forward before collapsing before the fire.
That was too close.
His eyes darted around wildly before settling upon the summon signs around him.
So there it was. His answer to the ever-constant invasions…
~~
Lautrec and his posse had just cleared the hall when yet another invader formed before them. She was but a simple cleric, but her eyes smoldered with barely suppressed rage as she rose from the haze upon ground.
“Oh, look! Another one,” Lautrec sneered, waving the others to attention. “How many times must these lambs rush to slaughter? Ah well… Let’s get it over with!”
Lautrec charged forward, his summoned warrior following in his wake. Just behind them, his sage readied his wand.
The cleric immediately raised her shield, a flimsy thing, really, and certainly no match for his blades. It managed to reduce the impact of the sage’s magic bolts, but now, Lautrec was right before her. He reared back before striking her a solid blow, his curved shotel easily reaching around her paltry shield. The shield blocked his comrade’s spear, but the woman now looked rather breathless.
“‘Tis a terrible pity,” Lautrec mused, trading his left shotel for a knife as he watched the invading cleric scramble to return her shield to her back. “Like a... moth, flittering towards a flame.
“You fellows… No? Don’t you agree?” He turned back towards his sage and briefly extended his arm towards his warrior, allowing the cleric a moment to ready herself for an attack of her own.
As if she’d stand a chance.
He chuckled darkly, watching as she lifted her talisman. She cast Force, which sent the spearman to the ground and the sage’s next magical projectile soaring back to strike him in the face.
Lautrec himself stumbled before recklessly charging her again. If his companions weren’t able to strike her, it appeared he’d have to finish the job himself.
She rolled away when he slashed at her with his shotel before charging at him with a knife that he hadn’t noticed she had been holding. He caught it with his own, slashing at her again with his free arm.
Vulnerable as she was, and with no armor to boot, the cleric staggered from the devastating blow. Lautrec kicked her away, laughing callously yet again. The sage’s magical bolts peppered her several times as she struggled to recover. In the meantime, Lautrec traded his parrying knife for his second shotel, all the while watching her intently.
Finally she knelt with talisman in hand. He recognized the gesture immediately as one of self-healing. “Oh no, you don’t…”
With that said, he lashed out with dual strikes and chuckled as her form disintegrated into smoky mists. He helped himself to the humanities and souls she left behind before turning back to his entourage. “Well, well. I thought you were wiser… but I thought wrong.”
His summoned warrior lunged at her now formless remains with his spear. Poor fellow was a bit slow to grasp the reality of the situation. Finally he recognized she was gone and returned to Lautrec’s side.
“Well, that was rather simple,” he scoffed and scanned the area. He beheld a glowing summon sign near the stairwell and went to examine it further.
Ah, if it wasn’t the fool himself.
Lautrec recalled the spearman, and summoned the warrior of sunlight. He arose with his arms in the air in a sun salute before facing Lautrec with a nod. Thankfully, he didn’t talk as much while in a summoned state.
Lautrec led them down the hall and pushed open the giant, double doors. He would have thought the room beyond empty, until he finally took note of a giant, stocky figure at the other end of the area. For a moment, they were so still Lautrec wasn’t quite certain whether they were human or statue. Either way, they wielded a hammer, nearly as large as themself.
Before Lautrec or the others could move in to have a closer look, another figure slowly and gracefully made their way to one of the balconies above. A single hand rested gently upon the railing as the knight, clad in incredibly intricate armor, gazed down at all of them. Within moments, the knight leapt down to stand before them, poised for battle.
The one wielding a hammer hefted it upon his shoulder, moving the giant weapon with such an ease that it looked as if it were made of feathers. So then apparently this ‘statue’ could move after all.
Lautrec faintly recognized the pair of warriors; felt certain that he had found their likenesses etched in marble somewhere within the city of Anor Londo. But it hardly mattered; if they stood in his path, they would be eliminated, all for the glory of the goddess.
The knight charged forward, his spear at the ready. Lautrec raced to meet him, easily moving off to the side to avoid the incoming spear. However gifted he may be, this spearman was no different from all others; he favored his right. All Lautrec needed to do was be careful to avoid that side and attack from the left, whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Meanwhile, Solaire focused his efforts on the giant. He would avoid the swing of his hammer with well-timed rolls and slash away with his sword while the giant struggled to reorient himself. He’d have to sprint away whenever his opponent decided to charge him, his hammer practically transformed into a whirlwind. And once his back was turned, Solaire would toss over a few lightning bolts in response.
Meanwhile, Lautrec’s summoned sage would hurl magic bolts at the giant. He was a large, and therefore, easy target, after all. And with both Lautrec and Solaire keeping their opponents busy, the sage didn’t have much to worry about, so long as he kept himself far from the fray.
Before long, the giant man crumpled to the ground and took his last breath. Ornstein leaped away from Lautrec to stand at his side. He rested a hand against his fallen comrade’s body with a clearly remorseful weight to the action, despite how simple it was.
But that simple gesture granted the knight a sudden surge in power. His very size surged until he grew to twice his height and weight. His spear sizzled with electricity as he held it aloft, reinvigorated to fight anew.
“By the goddess!” Lautrec exclaimed as the spearman lunged at him. He rushed away; this time, it was much more difficult to avoid the weapon, given it too had increased in size.
Solaire took the moment to lob a spear of lightning at the dragonslayer. However, it hardly had any effect.
The sage had prepared a more powerful spell, and this time, several magical bolts struck Ornstein at once. He momentarily flinched before rushing forward to attack the sage.
Lautrec and Solaire used the opportunity to move in close, slashing away at Ornstein’s legs. In response, the knight readied a lighting strike, charging up his spear with crackling electricity. Lautrec just barely managed to avoid being impaled, but his body shuddered as the remnants of lightning burned at his skin. He rolled away and yanked up his helm to chug a flask of Estus.
Meanwhile, Ornstein leapt high into the air, his body practically shining with excess electricity. Both Solaire and Lautrec were knocked off their feet as the dragonslayer crashed back down to the ground, sparks flying nearly everywhere. Even the sage, far from the action, staggered from the impact.
Lautrec frantically rolled until he was far away, ripping back his helm to down not one, but two flasks of Estus. This wasn’t going to be an easy battle.
But once he had his fill of Estus, he clenched his fists tightly around his shotels. He would not falter. For, after all, he had the favor of the goddess.
In the meantime, Solaire hurried to his feet and rushed in to attack Ornstein’s legs once again, determined to give Lautrec the time he needed to recover. He narrowly avoided another lunge; his body involuntarily shuddering from the excess electricity. How he longed to drink but a drop of Estus… But he had no time for that.
Meanwhile the sage had quickly gathered his wits and hurled magical bolts at the dragonslayer. He was too distracted with Solaire to fight back, so the mage continued his assault without interruption.
Reinvigorated, Lautrec moved in to assist Solaire. Together the two kept slashing away at Ornstein’s feet, all while avoiding his near-constant barrage of lightning laden lunges. Ornstein was just about to recharge his spear when the sage dealt him one blow too many, and the mighty dragonslayer finally fell.
Muscles buzzing with excess energy and skin burning from electrical buildup, Lautrec heaved hungry breaths of air as he watched the knight succumb to darkness. A glittering light was left behind, along with several other treasures.
But before he could go to retrieve them, the foolish knight hurried to stand before him. He jovially clapped Lautrec’s shoulder until he finally lifted his helm to look him in the face.
“A truly excellent bout of jolly cooperation, my good friend!” Solaire declared, no doubt a hearty grin beneath that helm. “Here; please take this!”
Lautrec already knew what the man was about to give him, and he didn’t want it.
Regardless, Solaire found his hand and pressed a warm medal into it. Lautrec could feel the warmth even though the thickness of his armor; the object was indeed strange. But he refused to close his fingers, so the medal eventually fell to the ground once the golden sunlight warrior finally vanished into thin air. Lautrec didn’t bother to give the thing even the slightest of second glances. He simply didn’t need it.
Instead he moved in to receive his prizes. A gluttony of souls, along with Ornstein’s own, and a ring, a lion engraved upon it. He doubted he would find much use for it. Regardless, he tucked it away along with the rest.
He wandered about the area for a while before coming upon a moving platform. He took it to find access to the balconies above, and to his great relief, a bonfire laid in wait. He took a rest there, allowing his wounds and aching body to heal.
Soon enough, he rose to his feet and made his way to the double doors before him. What laid behind them took his breath away.
There, her beautiful body draped across a plush chaise, laid the goddess Fina. The room was warm; soft light that emanated from the goddess herself wrapped the area in a gentle glow.
“Fina…” Lautrec breathed, immediately dropping down to one knee.
Fina smiled and extended a gentle hand towards him. “Thou hast journey’d far, and overcome much, chosen Undead. Come hither, child…”
Lautrec blinked. ‘Chosen undead?’ ‘Child?’
Did she not see him?
He cleared his throat. “Fina, my beloved… It is I, Lautrec the Embraced. And I have for you a gift...” He procured the firekeeper’s soul and held it aloft.
She beckoned to him again. “Come hither…”
“As you wish…” Lautrec humbly rose, moved to stand just before her, and knelt down, all while holding out his treasure for her to take.
“O chosen Undead,” she continued, her voice soft. “I am Gwynevere. Daughter of Lord Gwyn; and Queen of Sunlight…”
She had more to say, but Lautrec immediately stopped listening. Rage boiled up within his gut and spread throughout his body as he clenched his teeth.
The blasphemous wench! How dare she pose as the everlasting goddess!
Snarling, Lautrec ripped his shotel from its sheath and slashed the imposter, causing the unsuspecting woman to scream out. But his steel did not taste flesh; rather, he tore through naught but haze.
The woman was but a mirage. A trick of his mind.
Just as suddenly as the woman disappeared, the room went dark. It was cold here.
Lautrec looked about wildly, but he was alone, left with nothing but a soft, almost fading light from the firekeeper’s soul. He dropped his shotel, and it clattered to the ground, louder than ever now.
Was Fina… testing him?
He clenched his fist. No, it was that woman’s fault. She was a charlatan, a fake. Nothing was worse than impersonating a goddess. And it wasn’t as if he had ever seen a being as wondrous as the goddess herself in person before. How could he have known?
Yes... yes. He was not to blame here. No, not at all.
In that moment, the silence was broken.
I witnessed your sin, and it shall not go unpunished.
Lautrec froze. Too afraid to turn and face the voice.
Thou shalt perish in the twilight of Anor Londo.
No, this wasn’t happening. Everything he had done… it was all for Fina.
He couldn’t have…
Slight footsteps from behind compelled him to whirl around. A blue phantom stood within the doorway; she was dressed in light armor, not unlike the painting guardians he had encountered shortly after he had entered Anor Londo. And just like those warriors, she was wielding two short blades.
He would have bent to retrieve his shotel, but his limbs felt heavy, worn. And before his mind could have the opportunity to overpower his fading will, the warrior rushed forward, her blade plunging into his abdomen. She twisted the weapon, and he shuddered, the pain overtaking all of his senses. She kicked him to remove her blade, and his body easily crumpled to the ground.
He laid there in agony, coughing up blood and wondering why she hadn’t yet finished him off. Once he finally opened his eyes, he saw her, tenderly holding the firekeeper’s soul. He must have dropped it at some point, or maybe she had taken it from his hand; he could hardly tell, much less remember, at this point. All he knew was that it was ill-gotten. That he had soiled Fina’s good name in taking it.
Before long, his helm was roughly ripped off of him. “This is for Anastacia of Astora,” the warrior stated, her voice cold.
With that said, she lopped off his ear. “The Dark Sun will be pleased.” Her voice was soft now, devoid of the malice with which she spoke earlier.
He watched her ready a black separation crystal. “You will not kill me?” he finally managed to ask.
“Killing you would only end your suffering.” She stepped on the wound in his gut and pressed down, forcing him to cry out yet again. “And my wish for you is to wallow in it.”
She finally backed away and activated her crystal, returning to her realm awash in shining light.
Lautrec, bloodied and broken, finally mustered the strength to drag himself out of the room and towards the bonfire beyond.
But it was not lit.
He coughed again, blood spattering across the marbled floor. His vision blurred; the blood loss certainly wasn’t helping matters.
He crawled onwards, knowing full well he was too far gone to reach another bonfire. But he knew he must try. For Fina’s sake.
Fina…
He had failed her.
No…! He would never…!
His fingers trembled as he continued to drag himself forward. Onwards.
Everything, yes, everything he had done, all of it was for Fina. For her glory. For his honor. For their love.
But…
Lautrec faltered and hissed. The pain was too great.
Fina was a magnificent, benevolent goddess. Death in her name would only serve to sully her beauty, her magnanimity. She would never allow it.
But the prize.
The endless souls… They would preserve her beauty forever; grant her with eternal youth.
Lautrec’s fingers hit into a wall. He could barely see straight; his body felt cold. He wasn’t certain how much longer he would last.
He pulled himself into a seated position, his back against the wall. He breathed deeply, as best as his tired lungs would allow.
The ends do not justify the means.
He had failed his goddess, his love, by dishonoring her name. She would never accept any gifts, any love from a man drenched in sin. He knew this now.
He would perish within the twilight of Anor Londo.
As his goddess ordained.
@lefrustemangaka
@taroris
Silence always followed death. It was mandatory, as only death could rip things from this world with such coldness and leave a grieving void where the poor soul exhaled its last breath. Once the Shrine’s fire faded, not even the breeze dared to break the deathly quietness.
It took a while for Anastacia’s grasp around the metal rod to vanish; her delicate face contracted in a somewhat painful expression yet with relief under her lifeless blue eyes. Blue eyes which also stared at Lautrec with reproach; reproach because it wasn’t yet her time to leave, because she was supposed to die after fulfilling her role as Firekeeper, not in the hands of a knight who kept her company day after day until turning his blade against her.
With a swift measured move of hand, Lautrec cleaned the blood from his shotel. It was splattered on the floor in front of the rusty cell, which seemed to have been built in a rush by non-expert hands. Her frame paled in the light, not even a murmur was produced by the vanishment process. Then, the delicate soul of Anastacia jingled where her place has been for, perhaps, an eternity; tiny humanities dancing around the pure white light, happy, unbothered by the grim turn of events.
Lautrec picked them up and gave a look at the light and the darkness. Both antagonists floated pleasantly in his hand; darkness around light, light around darkness. The tendrils of Anastacia’s soul seemed to caress the humanities, as a mother would do to their kids. The humanities seemed to love the attention as they appeared to jump and shake their small bodies pleased. The somewhat peace these poor vestiges of a past life enjoyed was finally disrupted, for the image of the very safety and home meant nothing to Lautrec, whose real home was in the arms of a Goddess and the safety was only reached after the brief moments of offering the humanities he separated from Anastacia and placed inside his travel bag.
The Firekeepers' soul seemed to shiver when the mourning was over and the wind blew in the shrine, caressing its tendrils and letting it know of the newfound loneliness.
Truth be told, the reaction of the white soul was rather peculiar. With a tilt of his head, Lautrec observed how it reacted to its surroundings. How it seemed to know somehow that something was off. Maybe the pureness of the Firekeepers’ souls was the one to blame; souls remaining safe of the hunger that leads most Undeads, unbothered by the filthiness of the world that has no room for these same souls unless entrusted with the task to tend fire.
Lautrec scoffed. He was no innocent human, that was as true as the sky was blue. On top of that, he was hungry; hungry to please her Lady, hungry to give her everything she wished for. Staring at the soul wouldn’t do him any good. Then, almost in a whisper, a kind voice spoke to him. It spoke to him about time, about love, about forgiveness. For Lautrec, there was only one thing more absolute than death, and that was her Goddess’s words. He knew what he had to do next: complete his duty in the so-called city of Gods, but which was no home for his Lady. At least, not anymore.
The knight left the Shire, wherein the few beings remaining there barely noticed his leave. He, then, resumed his travel; going through the cathedral, through the burg, through the fortress made to break one’s soul but merely scratched his for the loving voice gave him the strength needed to prevail and move forward. It was such the faith in his Lady’s words that he even travelled through air (carried by nasty ugly demons) to arrive at his destination.
With utmost care, Lautrec inspectioned the place until finding the bonfire and, with the bonfire, the Firekeeper. He felt the arms around his torso hug him even in a more affectionate way, and the joy which washed over his body was almost overwhelming. Yet, he shouldn’t be carried away by those feelings, or he could end up imprisoned again, when the end of his task was within the reach of his fingertips.
When the Firekepeer spoke, Anastacia’s Soul shaked faintly in his travel bag.
“Mmh… You are a rare visitor,” she said once he walked down the stairs. In her voice, there was a hit of something Lautrec couldn’t place right away. “Welcome to the lost city of Anor Londo. If you seek Lord Gwyn’s old keep, exit here and head straight yonder. If you-”
“I will, for now, allow myself to take a rest,” Lautrec interrupted her.
It had been quite a while since he had been around a talkative Firekeeper. Instead, he had grown so comfortable with the silence around Anastacia that he had forgotten how annoying these women can be sometimes; with their gibberish and duties.
“Very well. After all, that is what the bonfire is for,” she muttered, with annoyance and that something which was still difficult to place in her voice.
Lautrec sat down near the fire. His tired legs sighed with the brief break they were given while his hands quickling unfastened the travel bag around his waist.
The moment to observe her came when he pretended to take care of his equipment, of his shotels and armour. It stood out that Firekeeper was nothing like the previous ones he had encountered before; all delicate ladies, sometimes blinded, sometimes too oblivious of the world around her. This woman, instead, looked like a warrior, and it was not because of the pretentious armour befitting of an even more pretentious place like Anor Londo. No. It was because of the aura around her, of the way she folded her arms, the posture she kept against the wall, the way tried to appear like she was self-absorbed but her eyes felt like daggers poking his skin.
It finally clicked. That something hard to place in her voice: mistrust. This woman was, by all means, different from the previous Firekeepers who always thought he was a well-meaning knight searching for their help and fire. This woman was dangerous, because mistrust made you be aware of dangers, of betrayal, and made offering harder. Lautred needed to find help, and by help it meant cannon fodder. For that reason he got up and announced it was time to continue his journey. The knight, then, adventured himself even further in the city, further into the high building.
His shotel cut through multiple enemies dressed in white clothes and who threw daggers. He got no reward from it and the voice whispering kind words suddenly started to rush him to go back to the Firekeeper’s place. Oh, how much he wished to speak with his Lady at that moment, to hold her delicate hands and promise her that she would have the world if only she gave him a moment to do what had to be done to cut the Firekeeper’s throat.
His steps lead him to a cathedral, wide, open, and filled with multiple enemies. Even if it cost him some estus, Lautrec prevailed and the colossals figures and Silver Knights ended up falling to his blade. When inside there was no more than silence (a silence aware of the knight’s intentions and which followed him as it followed death), Lautrec started to search for marks. For marks of unwaries who would have no other choice but to help him fulfill his role; perhaps serving as bait.
It didn’t take him long to come across a well-known yellow sign. Holding back a scoff turned out to be impossible for a solid second, as there was no point in summoning that crazy fool. Lautrec kept searching, avoiding the signs of Warriors of Sunlight as if they were infected with the plague. Then, finally, after walking up and down the hallway, he located it: two white summoning signs. A sorcerer and a spearman. That would serve him well. Lautrec touched the first white light, with black letters signaling a name that he couldn’t care less, before touching the second one. Two men appeared in front of him and spoke words of greeting, too cheerfully for his liking. He barely muttered some words to content them for there were more pressing matters to attend.
After the pointless greeting was over, the three of them walked to the entry, to the closed massive doors. With a sigh, Lautrec started to look for the mechanism to open them, locating a giant lever attached to some big gears.
Upon touching the handle, though, he felt it. The soft rumbling of worlds clashing together. His furrow deepened under his helmet and walked back to his comrades who were looking at their surroundings. Lautrec didn’t feel like playing the mouse and cat game at that moment, so, when the other two men looked at him wondering about his plan, he simply ordered them to wait until the dark phantom appeared.
And the phantom did so. After a closer look at the armour, an amused hum left his lips. The Chosen Undead straightened their back and when their gaze fell on the knight and his cannon fodder, they stormed towards them, sword raised in wrath. The same wrath that filled their voice when they spoke.
“Lautred, you bastard! How dare you kill her?! How dare you kill Anastacia?!”
The knight waited (hearing reassuring words of his Lady that ensured him the victory) for the Chosen Undead to run towards them and for his summonings to defend him, as it was a mandatory rule between the fool Undeads.
“Well, look at you,” he began, dragging out his shotel. “I thought you were wiser, but I thought wrong!”
@thefatladysang
#dark souls#lautrec of carim#fanart#fanfiction#soulsborne chain game#dark souls chain 2#lautrec chain
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You Are To This Day The Only Woman I Have Ever Loved
Summary: Selin tired of Eda's presence in Serkan's life takes matters into her own hands. However, the results were not what she wanted. All she did was push Serkan back into Eda's arms.
A/N: I've been working on this for a while now. It was supposed to be a one-shot but I keep adding to it so now its a multi-chapter story, you can thank @bluedove for convincing me to start posting what I have written. Since before Serkan got his memory on the show, so this is completely different from what happened in canon.
Also, I am no expert on injuries.
It was happening again.
Serkan was falling in love with Eda all over again even though he did not remember her.
And Selin had a front-row seat to it all.
It was supposed to be different this time around. This was her second chance. Her chance to have everything she wanted. Everything she deserved.
Eda was ruining it, just like she ruined everything in Selin’s life.
Something dark and ugly twisted inside her every time, Serkan stepped into a room and immediately look for Eda, the way his eyes would light up at the sight of her, the way he would laugh with Eda, the way he found any excuse to see Eda, to stand close enough to touch her.
It was the small things that tore at her heart, ripping it into shreds.
How he swept Eda’s hair out of her eyes, the way he watched her walk into a room, how he would just gaze at her like she was the most beautiful thing he ever laid eyes on and couldn’t tear his eyes away from her for even a second. The way he would lean into her neck to smell her perfume, how he couldn’t help but touch her in some way, his fingers, skimming through her hair, down her arms, holding her hand, his knuckles brushing the skin of her cheek.
And he did it without hesitation but worse of all. It was the look in his eyes, attraction was one thing but the complete look of devotion in his eyes every single time Eda so much as looked at him that made her realize none of her hard work of molding Serkan into being hers meant anything.
As long as Eda Yildiz was in their lives Serkan would never truly be hers.
His heart recognized Eda even when his mind didn’t and it would be her ruin.
She had to end the connection between Eda and Serkan that threaten to take everything from her.
If she was going to have Serkan, every piece of him, Eda had to be taken out of the picture completely.
Eda needed to be gone from their lines and Selin had to make sure she never came back.
Selin knew in her heart that she was going too far but she couldn’t let Eda win. She had to do this. She needed to push Eda to leave Instanbul and never come back.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
It was late, Eda was trying to finish up and go home. It had been a long day and she just wanted it to end.
Every day it seemed like Serkan was seeking her out more and more but at the same time, he was still with Selin.
It hurt to see them together, like shards of glass shredding at her soul.
Hearing Selin call him love, seeing them embrace and plan their upcoming wedding... It was too painful.
Not too long that was her. She and Serkan were beyond happy and ready to start their lives together.
It had been just a few weeks since she ended her game with Deniz. There was no point to it. Serkan was no closer to remembering her than he was to ending things with Selin.
Eda was not fooled as to why he ask Selin to marry him. He was running scared, terrified by the depth of his own emotions for her. Emotions he didn’t have the memories of their importance or their magnitude.
Eda told herself he needed time for his mind to catch up with his heart and that she could give him that but it left her on the sidelines watching the man she loves be with someone else, someone she couldn't stand. It was the hardest thing to do and the most painful.
She told herself it was all going to be worth it. The more time he spent with her, she could see he was slowly growing used to what he felt for her and letting it in. She had a feeling it was only a matter of time before he opened his heart up to her again and allowed her to touch his soul.
Eda’s phone buzzed with a text from Melo asking when she was going home. She texted her back that she would be home shortly, she pulled on her jacket and grabbed her bag.
Her stomach rumbled and she put her hand to it with a grimace. She had been skipping dinner and her body was rejecting the lack of nutrients.
She thought about texting Serkan asking if he wanted to get dinner but then thought better of it. He was probably having dinner with Selin.
She walked out of the upstairs office and stopped short as she almost crashed into Selin. “What are you still doing here?”
“You’re not the only one who works late,” Selin said. “I was just leaving to meet Serkan for a romantic dinner.”
Eda’s stomach twisted. “Then don’t let me keep you,” she muttered.
She pushed past Selin, moving toward the stairs.
“You should leave.” Eda could hear the sounds of Selin’s heels against the floor as she followed her.
Eda rolled her eyes heavenward. “I am leaving.”
“Instanbul. Leave Instanbul.”
Eda whipped around. “What?”
“You need to leave Instanbul. Tonight.” Selin took another step, glaring daggers. “Your presence isn’t needed. All you are doing is making things worse for Serkan.”
“For Serkan or for you?” Eda challenged.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Selin bristled.
“It means the fake house of cards you built around you is starting to fall. You manipulated Serkan, told him lies, twisted facts around for your own gain are starting to crumble and you’re scared.”
Selin scoffed. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I think I do. Serkan is coming back to me, his heart knows he belongs with me. You may be with him but he was never really yours. You’ve never had his heart. Have never touch his soul. His blood doesn’t sing for you. I am the one he needs and more so who he wants and I always will be. You want me to leave because you can see it and you’re running out of time.” A smirk played on Eda’s lips. “I will never give up on Serkan. Your time with him is ticking down. If you had any decency at all you will come clean before it’s too late but I know you won’t. I look forward to the day it all comes crashing down around you. I’m not going anywhere, Selin. You want me to give up Serkan. It’s not going to happen. As long as I am alive, I would never give up on him because if Serkan was his true self he would not give up on me. What Serkan and I have is stronger than you know.”
With those parting words, Eda turned and Selin’s lips twisted. If Eda would not leave their lives willingly then she would have to take matters into her own hands.
Selin shoved her arms out, the palm of her hands, slamming into Eda’s back with force.
Eda gave a cry of surprise as she was propelled forward, her body lurching as she lost her footing.
Selin watched Eda’s fall and it was like everything happened in slow. She tumbled against the stairs, her limbs getting tangled and the thud of her torso slamming against the stairs, Eda’s cry of pain, the impact of her head smashing against the floor before everything was silent and still.
Selin stared at Eda’s unmoving form, blood was pouring down her temple, her arm was bent at an awkward ankle beneath her back, blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
And Selin felt a sense of peace. Finally. The world she knew could go back to how it was before Eda Yildiz had come into it.
Selin walked down the stairs and over Eda’s body. Soon all this would be put behind them and she and Serkan would go on with their lives and Eda would only be an unwelcome memory of the past.
As she walked away, leaving Art Life Selin never saw the dark vibrant color slowly start to bleed through Eda’s white jeans.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Melo slipped her bag over her shoulder as she exited her car and walked up to the front doors of Art Life.
Eda was supposed to meet her but she never showed and she wasn’t answering her phone. When she last talk to her she was still here.
Melo stepped into the building and made her way past the reception desk and stopped short.
Her heart plummeted to her stomach.
“Eda!” Melo’s voice was distraught as she rushed forward.
Her best friend was unconscious on the floor.
Melo's knees hit painfully against the floor as she dropped down beside her. “Eda,” she pushed Eda’s hair back from her face, blood coating her fingers. Her friend’s bangs were soaked in blood as it slid down her temple.
“Dada...Dada, Dada wake up.” Melo’s hand shook as she cupped her friend’s cheek, hoping to rouse her.
Eda didn’t move, didn’t react. She was completely unresponsive.
Melo’s eyes filled with tears as she looked her friend over for other injuries. Her eyes widened when she saw the dark patch of red between her friend’s legs.
Oh God, this could not be happening.
With shaky hands, she reached beneath Eda's pulling her arm out from beneath her and she gave a cry of fear.
Eda’s bone was poking out from the forearm, blood was everywhere.
Tears slid down Melo's face as she reached for her phone. She had to call for help.
She barely got through the call, the panic and the tears taking over. The moment the call ended, her phone clattered to the floor and she moved, gently lifting Eda’s head in her lap, and sweeping her hair back.
“It’s going to okay, Dada. Just hold on. Please, just hold on.” Melo tears slid off her chin and drip onto Eda’s cheek.
Melo’s hand trembled when she wiped it away. A cry tore from her mouth when she only succeeded in smearing blood across her Dada’s skin.
She gripped tightly to Eda, whispering over and over that she was going to be okay.
Melo prayed that if she said it enough she could will it to be true because right now she wasn’t sure it was.
It seemed like forever before help arrived. Melo refused to leave Eda’s side. She rode with her to the hospital and she watched distraught as nurses and doctors swarmed around Eda, rushing to do everything they could for her. She felt helpless as they disappeared with her Dada through a set of double doors.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Serkan sat at the island his computer in front of him. Eda had kindly given him the password. Again.
He thought about changing it but for some reason, he couldn’t. Yes, he mocked that he had bought her a star and the star’s coordinates were his password but since getting to know Eda a bit more he could understand it more now.
It was so easy to care for Eda. She was beautiful, kind, smart and so strong. And her smile, God, her smile shined brighter than any star in the night sky.
It didn’t take him long to see how he could have fallen in love with her.
He looked up with a hint of guilt for thinking about another woman when Selin was across from him after having gotten home half an hour ago. She had immediately started working on a simple dinner.
Fish. It seemed to be the only thing she could cook but if he was being honest it wasn’t very good.
What was wrong with him? He was supposed to be working and here he was thinking of another woman when his fiance was trying to do something nice for him and fix him a home-cooked meal.
He tried to focus back on his work, doing his best to force Eda from his thoughts
He looked up fifteen minutes later when there was a frantic knocking on the door.
Selin waved him off to get the door, he turned in his seat watching as she pulled it open.
“Aydan, what are you doing here? Serkan and I weren’t expecting you.” Selin greeted his mother.
“Serkan!” Aydan pushed past Selin and moved toward her son. Seyfi on her heels. “Why haven’t you been picking up your phone? I have been calling you for two hours!”
“My phone hasn’t ranged.” Serkan reached for his phone and to his surprise, he had 17 missed calls from his mom, 9 from Seyfi, 6 from Engin, and two from Eda’s friend, Melo who refused to call him anything but her son-in-law.
“If we missed your calls the fault is mine.” Selin moved to stand next to Serkan, looking apologetic. “When I got home from the office, I put both our phones on silent so we wouldn’t disturb for the night.” She reached for Serkan’s hands, lacing their fingers together. “I was hoping to spend alone time together tonight. Without interruptions.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Seyfi said. “Mr. Serkan needs to know about Eda.”
“Eda? Know what about her?” Serkan looked between his mother and Seyfi.
“Serkan,” Aydan’s voice shook and her eyes brimmed over with tears.
“Did something happen?” Serkan stood suddenly. “Is Eda alright?”
“No,” Seyfi shook his head. “You should go to the hospital.”
“Hospital?” Serkan pulled his hand out of Selin’s missing the way her lips twisted into a sneer.
“There’s been an accident. Eda fell down the stairs at Art Life.” Aydan said. “Melo found her unconscious. There was a lot of blood.”
Serkan stumbled back. “No, that can’t happen.”
“It did,” Aydan said. “You should be there.”
“Serkan doesn’t need to be there.” Selin cut in sharply. “Eda is nothing to him.”
Seyfi glared. “She’s his partner and she was to be his wife-”
“She’s his past.” Selin snapped.
Serkan didn’t care about their arguing, he moved away unnoticed by everyone but his mother. He grabbed his keys and walked out, the door slamming shut behind him.
A/N: I will post the second chapter next Friday. Thanks for reading!
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Something like love (One Shot)
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Sometimes what you’re looking for is already there.
Words: 8.6K
Warnings: sadness, heartbreak then some good ol’ fluff
A/N: This is written for @ussgallifreyfics 700 followers writing challenge. Congrats on your followers darling and thank you so much for letting me join your writing challenge. <3 My prompt was the quote by Aretha Franklin “Sometimes what you’re looking for is already there.” I’m anxious to post it, I feel like I haven’t done justice to my prompt but I gave my best so I really hope you guys will like it.
p.s. I’m sorry @ussgallifreyfics for tagging you again in this, but I had to make a new blog and repost everything here once again.
Originally posted: March 26, 2020
“You look very handsome Bucky.” She whispered the words with a small smile on her face and he grinned in return, obviously excited.
“I hope everything goes well tonight. It’s almost two months that we’ve been going out and I’m hoping tonight we could -”
“Of course!” She interrupts him, still sporting her sweet smile, but inside her heart was slowly breaking in pieces.
Bucky was her best friend. Only sometimes she wished he wasn’t. Sometimes she wished he was just another man she could maybe let know she liked him. But she couldn’t do that to Bucky.
She knew what he was going to say. But she couldn’t hear him say it out loud.
Bucky had been dating a girl for the past two months. They met in a small diner in Brooklyn, one where he would go often because it reminded him of the old times. She worked there was a waitress and she had seen Bucky going in almost every morning, taking an almost immediate interest on the broody blue-eyed man. And the rest is history.
Now, after almost two months, things between them were going smoothly and Bucky had never been happier around someone. He was hoping after tonight things could progress between him and his girlfriend.
Surely, it was logical. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt y/n to her very soul.
Y/n was seemingly lost in her thoughts when she felt Bucky press a light kiss on her cheek and her breath hitched for a second.
“I gotta go doll, it’s almost seven.”
She only nodded her head and he made a quick exit from the room, leaving y/n behind alone.
As soon as the door closed behind him, she felt her knees fail her and she fell harshly on the floor. Her knees would probably bruise but she didn’t care because at that moment her heart was hurting more than anything else.
She felt the tears stream down her cheeks, the sobs growing heavy and making it difficult for her to breathe.
“Miss y/n, it seems that you are having a panic attack. I’ve notified Dr. Banner to come to your assistance.” The smooth voice of Friday was heard through the erratic beating of her heart and she quickly wiped the tears from her face, trying to collect herself before someone found her in her miserable state of heartbreak.
“It’s okay Fri, I’m okay.” She spoke the words hoarsely and got up on her feet carefully, taking a deep breath and calming herself down.
She patted the hair out of her face and made her way to the door, leaving Bucky’s room for the safety of her own. Just as she was about to reach the corner of the hall that lead to her personal room, Steve called her from behind, making her stop her steps.
She willed herself to take another deep breath and turned around to face the captain.
“Hey, Steve.” Her voice was small but seemingly calm.
He reached her in two other strides and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You okay? Friday said something was wrong.”
His soft, caring voice broke her heart once again. Steve was the most amazing person in the world. Always putting the others before himself, always caring more than he should, always making sure everyone was okay and happy. And y/n hated to worry him.
“Yes.” She spoke, raising her voice a little, making it more believable that she was saying the truth. “Yes, I’m good Steve.”
Her eyes did not meet his as she spoke though, and that was what gave her away. She never looked people in the eyes when she lied and Steve knew that too well. But he didn’t say anything.
“Okay. What are you up to now?”
“I was just going in my room, probably watch a movie or something.”
“We could do that together?” His voice was suggestive when he asked and she couldn’t find it in her to say no to him.
She was tired. She just wanted to be in her room alone and hope to fall asleep to avoid all the hurt and pain in her chest, but Steve was standing in front of her, a hopeful glint in his eyes, coaxing her to say yes to his offer, so that’s exactly what she did.
They chose to watch on the common areas, as it was near the kitchen and the fridge, so it would be easier to have snacks. When they got there, she scrolled down on the Netflix home to find something to watch. They both decided on a comedy movie.
One movie ended and they put another one to play, not wanting to go to sleep just yet.
Y/n was feeling a little better, watching movies took her mind off of Bucky for a while and that’s all she wanted to do. To not think of Bucky and how he was getting lucky tonight with his girlfriend.
She was succeeding in her task until halfway through the second movie Steve’s phone chimed notifying he had a new message. She turned her head towards him while he read the text and quickly typed a reply of his own.
“Who is it?” She couldn’t help the question that slipped, but when Steve answered she wished she hadn’t asked at all.
“Buck, says he’s not coming home tonight.” His reply was short before he turned the attention to the TV again, totally oblivious of how y/n’s face twisted in pain, the pang in her chest making it impossible to stop the unwanted tears from spilling from her eyes.
She tried to wipe them quickly and discreetly with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, but Steve noticed her sad face nonetheless.
He furrowed his brows in confusion and paused the movie, turning his attention to her, worry written on his features.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
Y/n was caught like a deer in the headlights by the question. Nobody knew about her feelings for Bucky and she wanted it to remain that way. It wasn’t like it would change anything, only it would gain her pity from her other friends.
“Nothing.” She replied fast, killing her brain to think of a lie to tell to Steve. Anything would be a good excuse, but she came empty handed no matter how much she tried to think of something.
They were watching a silly comedy for fuck’s sake. What could possibly be the reason to cry at the moment?
“Y/n, look at me.” She listened to him and lifted her head slowly to meet Steve’s eyes.
“Now tell me what’s going on?” His voice was calm but determined, as if compelling her to tell nothing but the truth.
And that she did.
She told Steve everything. She told him about her feelings for Bucky, about the pain she was in because there was no way Bucky could reciprocate her love. She bared her heart and soul to the captain and only when she finished speaking Steve wrapped his arms firmly around her and hugged her closely.
“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I had no idea.” He whispered in her hair and she only sighed in his chest, not knowing what to say anymore. She was feeling tired from all the talking and all the crying and she only wanted to rest now.
Steve’s embrace seemed like a good place for that.
He kept playing with her hair softly until he felt her breathing even, he knew she had fallen asleep. Not wanting to wake her up, he waited until he was sure she was deep in sleep until he untangled his arms from her and laid her down on the couch, covering her sleeping form with a blanket and turning the TV off before he left the room.
The next morning when she woke up, y/n felt like every muscle in her body was frozen by sleeping on the hard couch. She wasn’t used to sleeping anywhere else besides her bed.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and got up on her feet, looking around for anyone else, but the place was empty. Even Steve was nowhere in sight.
She folded the blanket carefully before making her way to her bedroom, only to collide with a huge mass of muscle on the way there.
When she picked up her head to see who it was, she was surprised to see Bucky in front of her.
He was sporting a huge grin on his face and she couldn’t help the warmth that spread in her chest in his presence.
“Good morning sleepyhead.” He ruffled her hair and bent his head down to kiss her cheek. He looked so happy, it was almost contagious.
“Morning, Buck.” Her reply was short and composed, y/n was trying her best to not let her hurt show in front of him. She tried to slip away from him and go to her room, but apparently Bucky wasn’t having it.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how my date went?” His voice was light, jovial, but it made her sick in her stomach.
She couldn’t help the bitterness that slipped past her lips this time.
“Seeing how you didn’t come home last night, I’d say it went swell, didn’t it?” It was more of a rhetorical question, as she didn’t wait for his answer but walked away quickly, leaving a very confused Bucky behind.
Y/n didn’t want to make him feel bad. After all it wasn’t Bucky’s fault. It wasn’t his fault for having a girlfriend that wasn’t her and it definitely wasn’t his fault for not reciprocating her feelings. She knew she was damaged goods anyway.
With all the trauma from her past, she was convinced she didn’t deserve love, least of all from such a wonderful man as James Barnes.
Maybe her head was spinning, or maybe it was the room. She wasn’t sure anymore. What she was sure of though, was the figure of Bucky closing in more and more with every breath she took.
It burned. The air that got in her lungs burned like molten lava and she couldn’t stop the hurt. However, it all seemed to fade away when he touched her cheek with those cold metal fingers of his. The coolness of the vibranium soothed the pain as if it was magical.
“You’re okay. You’re safe. Keep breathing.” The words were hushed out in her ear like the peaceful rustling of autumn leaves in the wind and she had no other choice but to calm down and keep a steady breathing pattern.
“It’s okay, it’s all over.” His hands were cupping her cheeks and his thumbs were wiping away the tears that were staining her face. “You’re safe now doll, I’m here.”
Eventually she calmed down enough to be able to speak.
“I’m sorry if I woke you up.” Her words came out of her mouth slowly, but calm. Her hands touched his that were still resting on her face and she closed her eyes with a sigh, the feeling of his touch soothing, nourishing her soul with the warmth of sunlight she had missed so much lately.
“You didn’t. I was up anyway.”
She only hummed in response, not daring to open her eyes anymore to look at him. She was scared he would vanish if she did so.
After a few minutes of silence, it was Bucky who spoke again. “Do you want to talk about it?”
That made her open her eyes and shake her head no. She still didn’t say a word though, and Bucky wanted to get her to talk, to be sure she was there with him now, not still lost in her night terrors.
“Okay, what do you want to talk about, then?” There was a lightness in his voice that made her feel better already, but she was still exhausted from her nightmare.
“Let’s lay down again, doll.” His words were soft and careful and she complied without a second thought. He tucked her in and put a piece of hair behind her ear, smiling when she sighed in relief by his touch.
“Can you stay?” She asked in a small voice, timid by the request and afraid of the response she could get. She thought maybe she was stepping over a line there with him and it made her anxious for a second, but his reply came shortly after and eased her erratic heart.
With a sweet smile and a short nod of affirmation, he laid down beside her.
Up until that night, Bucky was just another team member, a co-worker like the rest of them, but that changed when he decided to lay down with her and spend the rest of the night talking about everything that popped in their heads.
When the first rays of sunshine peaked through the linen curtains of her room, they fell asleep close to one another, worn out from the long sleepless hours of the night but with their minds calm and hearts at peace.
After that night they became inseparable, the best of friends. A special bond was created between them, a bond so tight no one could break, even y/n’s growing feelings for the man.
That’s why she kept her mouth shut all of this time.
Y/n knew Bucky more than anyone else, she knew what made him smile, what made him frown. She knew what triggered his insecurities and his pain. Y/n knew Bucky so well and that is why she never told him of her feelings.
It would crash him. She knew this too. Because she knew Bucky so well, she knew the best thing to do was keep her feelings to herself and carry on as always, as the best of friends they were. She never wanted to hurt the man she had come to love so much during this whole time, so she only allowed herself to cherish his friendship, totally platonic, even though it was doing nothing but break her heart every time he went out on dates with women that weren’t her.
This time though, he seemed really serious about Allison, and despite the fact that y/n was in great pain, she had to he happy for him. She could never forgive herself if she stood in the way of his happiness.
These were all the thoughts running through her head the whole time, and she felt bad for snapping at Bucky earlier. She decided to take a shower and collect herself before finding him again and apologizing.
It wasn’t long before she entered the kitchen like a whole other person, showered and with a new goal set in her mind.
During the time she was in her room, she prepared herself to act normal around him, after all, nothing had changed. Bucky was still her friend and she wouldn’t lose him, especially not because of those stupid feelings she had been harboring for him lately more than ever.
“Hello y/n.” Vision was the first to spot her when she entered the kitchen and with a smile on her lips she greeted him back, next to him standing Wanda.
Bucky, who was sitting on a stool close to the counter, drinking orange juice straight from the bottle, turned his head to look at her and when their eyes met, her smile got wider, if that was possible.
“Hey doll.” He spoke up, unsure from their earlier encounter, but her smile let him know everything was okay.
“Hi Buck, did you train already?” She asked, just like she always did and Bucky thought maybe her words from earlier were just her being her grumpy sleepy self.
He hummed in response, his eyes following her movements around the kitchen, filling up a cup with hot, just boiled water, to make her daily blueberry tea.
He loved how she worked around the cabinets, bringing out the small packets of blueberry tea and the pot of sugar.
She slipped the tea packet inside the cup and let it rest, meanwhile sitting on the vacant spot next to him, and Bucky loved having her near.
“What are the plans for today?” He asked enthusiastically and y/n couldn’t help but squint her eyes at him.
“Not much.” She dragged her words out. “I have training this afternoon with Steve but that’s it.”
He nodded his head in understanding, but the glint in his eyes told her he had something else in mind. Her suspicion was proved right when he spoke his next words.
“How about you don’t train today?”
Y/n met his eyes briefly, before turning the attention to her cup of tea, stirring the liquid, waiting for him to continue speaking.
“How about you go out for lunch with me and Allison?” His question found her unprepared and she had to swallow the bile that rose in her throat, quickly sipping on her tea, trying to gain a few seconds to gather herself and her thoughts.
“I’m not so sure about that Buck.” She tried to keep her voice steady. She tried so much to keep her stupid beating heart in control while she spoke. Tried to keep her face composed when she answered, to not let him know in how much pain she was.
“Why, c'mon doll. I’m sure Steve won’t say anything for one day.” Bucky was oblivious to her discomfort and it was only making her feel worse. Luckily, in that moment, Steve entered her peripheral vision and they both turned their heads to look at him.
Bucky was the one to speak first. “See, here’s Steve. Hey punk, you wouldn’t mind if y/n missed training today, would you?” His voice was light and Steve smiled at how happy his oldest friend seemed to be, but when he averted his eyes to look at y/n, he was met with her pleading face, discreetly shaking her head a little no, praying Steve would get her silent message.
It seemed that luck was in her side this time, because the Captain shook his head no too, this time in a response to Bucky.
“Sorry Buck, can’t do that. We have an upcoming mission and y/n needs to train on her hand to hand combat. Actually that’s why I came here now, to let her know we’re starting earlier.”
Bucky grunted out of displeasure, while y/n let out a short breath she didn’t know she had been holding until now. She gave Steve a thankful look and a small relieved smile made its way on her lips.
“Okay, I’m up.” She replied, patting Bucky once on his arm and taking her cup of tea with her.
“See you later Buck.” She spoke behind her shoulder and left the kitchen, Steve following behind her.
Only when they were out of the kitchen and she was sure there was no way Bucky could hear them anymore, y/n let out a long sigh and turned to look at Steve. “Thank you for that.”
“Anytime.” Came his short reply. “What happened though? You know training isn’t until later in the afternoon.”
Y/n sipped on her tea and kept walking towards the gym.
“I know. Bucky asked me to go to lunch with him and his girlfriend.” She confessed defeated and they entered the gym.
Steve looked at her sympathetically, his own heart breaking from her pain. After last night, when y/n told him everything, he finally could see everything in a much clearer light. Suddenly everything made sense. But Steve was upset with his best friend for breaking this wonderful girl’s heart. Bucky was too blind to see what was in front of him, who has been there for him for years now and the only one who was hurting was y/n. Steve thought something like this wasn’t fair to anyone, least of all her, who was too sweet and caring for her own good.
It was late that night when y/n heard the knocks on her door. She was laying in bed, a book in her hands, and despite the fact that she wasn’t paying any attention to the words on the pages, having already spent more than half an hour stuck in the same page, she couldn’t find it in herself to close the book and go to sleep.
She was startled by the knocks and turned her head to see the clock on her nightstand. It was almost midnight and she had no idea who it might be this late.
However she called for them to get inside, and she saw none other than Bucky Barnes open the door hesitantly and enter the room with quiet steps.
“What’s up Buck?” She put the book aside and looked at him, waiting for his answer.
“Nothing doll, I just came home and wanted to see if you were asleep.”
It was weird, as if they were two strangers forced to talk to one another.
“I was actually just going to sleep.”
He hummed in understanding.
“Do you want to talk about anything?” She then asked, always trying to make sure he was okay, he was feeling good, always putting his needs first.
He simply nodded and that was enough for her to pat the empty space of her bed in an invitation. He walked to her bed and laid down next to her without a word, sighing when his head hit one of the too many soft pillows she kept around her.
Y/n turned on her side to face him and reached out for his cheek with her left hand, fingertips stroking his cheekbone lightly. He could barely feel her touch, yet it was as soothing as ever.
“Is everything okay Bucky?”
He nodded, not wanting to stop feeling her touch just yet.
She continued caressing his skin, just as lightly as before, waiting for him to speak up.
“Yeah doll, I just missed you.” His words were barely a whisper, but y/n was standing so close to him, it was impossible to miss them.
A smile broke through her lips and she closed her eyes to let his words sink in. How she wished he missed her the way she wanted him to miss her.
“Yeah?” She asked as if in disbelief but her smile didn’t falter.
“Yeah” he nodded his head and closed his eyes, relishing in her soft, soft touch.
“Can I sleep here tonight doll?” He asked, hope evident in his tone, and no matter how much y/n wanted to say no to him, she couldn’t.
She knew it wasn’t right. He had a girlfriend that made him happy, and she had those feelings that were becoming more and more difficult to conceal, with each passing day. But with his eyes locked on her face, his small smile blossoming on his lips only for her, she was hopeless. She nodded her head in approval and it was all he needed to get under the covers with her, arms stretching out to grab her body and bring it close to him, her face hiding in the crook of his neck and his nestling in her hair, smelling her strawberry shampoo.
They both fell asleep soon after, the night quiet and peaceful, no nightmares or other disturbances whatsoever.
Bucky knew it wasn’t the smartest thing to do going to y/n’s room while he had a girlfriend who loved him, but lately the nightmares had been disturbing his sleep more often that he’d like to admit and the only person who can help with that is y/n. He feels like he’s using her to get his peaceful rest of the night and that makes him feel disgusted with himself, but then he thinks y/n is his best friend and this is normal for them.
Nothing is going on between them. They are simply two friends who help each other with the nightmares.
Y/n was woken up abruptly by three sharp knocks on her door. She grunted in displeasure and hid her face under the comforter, but that did nothing to help her as the person behind the door, decided to open it and enter in her room without her permission.
“Rise and shine sweet cheeks, urgent mission.” Natasha’s smooth voice was heard under the comforter and she opened her eyes in panic.
Her mind was only screaming one word: Bucky.
Luckily when she looked around, she was alone in her bed, Bucky had seemingly left before she woke up and despite the fact that she was grateful because she was spared from the knowing smirk of Natasha or any sassy remark she would be making if she found Bucky in her bed, y/n still felt bad he had left without saying anything.
She got up quickly and mumbled a sleepy “good morning” to Nat before starting to get ready, moving to her bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth, then putting up her hair in a ponytail.
Once in the common room, her eyes immediately found Bucky, who was standing next to Steve, listening intently to the captain and his instructions.
“Y/n, good morning.” Steve greeted her and she mumbled a ‘morning’ of her own before Steve resumed his explaining again.
It was supposed to be an easy mission. With most of the team in the field, the only thing they had to do was tear down a few Hydra bases somewhere near Bulgaria and stop those assholes from hurting anyone again, then come back home.
It would be ideal if no one got hurt along the way, but with their line of work nothing was sure. They could all try to do their best though.
Weeks have been passing slowly in the compound. Despite the never ending missions, training and everything else that occupied their lives as Avengers, it seemed like the hours were dragging one after the other dangerously slow and it was making y/n anxious.
She had seen everyday less and less of Bucky lately, it seemed like he was always out of the compound, apparently spending time with his girlfriend. Last time they spoke, he told y/n how things between him and Allison were amazing and he seemed genuinely happy. Y/n had no other choice but to be happy for him, too.
While Bucky was busy with his girl, y/n had found herself get everyday more close to Steve. With him being the only one who knew of her feelings for Bucky, it was easy to open up to him. Also Steve was a great listener and he always seemed to have the best advice.
They were together cooking dinner for the whole team. It was a rare occasion for all of them to have dinner together and y/n wanted to make something special for all of them. Steve volunteered to help and she happily accepted.
“Don’t forget to stir the béchamel sauce.” She reminded him and Steve quickly complied, rushing to the saucepan to stir the sauce that was simmering on the stove.
The deep melodious voice of Frank Sinatra was heard through the speakers while they both cooked and a peaceful atmosphere was created around them. But that was about to be ruined right about in that same moment when in the kitchen entered none other than Bucky with a pretty brunette holding his hand.
Y/n stopped in her tracks, forgetting momentarily about the task in hand, her eyes stuck to the joined hands of Bucky and his girlfriend.
Steve was just as surprised to see Bucky there with Allison. His friend seemed to be a little hesitant the last time Steve had asked him to introduce him to his girl. Now he brought her at the compound without telling anyone.
His eyes left Bucky to avert quickly to y/n, and Steve felt bad when he saw the evident pain in her eyes.
He wished he could do something, but he was feeling useless, standing there silent, until it was Bucky who decided to speak up.
“Hey, guys. There’s someone I want to introduce you with.” His voice was light and happy and he seemed blind towards the awkwardness Y/n and Steve were radiating.
Y/n cleared her throat and broke out of her stupor, quickly mustering up a smile to direct to Bucky. She turned off the heat of the stove, cleaned her hands with a paper towel and moved around the counter to meet Bucky and the other girl.
“Hello.” Her tone was polite despite the pang of pain in her chest from the sight in front of her; she had trained herself well for this moment, also sporting an easy smile in her face. “I’m y/n, nice to meet you.” She stretched her hand out for Allison to take, and the other woman did just that, a big smile adorning her sweet features.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, y/n. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Her reply was lively, almost elated and y/n couldn’t hate her even if she wanted to.
Behind her walked Steve who also introduced himself politely.
Bucky was watching the interactions between them contented, sporting a boyish grin on his face.
“Allison is going to stay over for dinner.” He informed and y/n nodded her head, the smile never faltering from her lips. It was like her face was stuck in that smiling pose, her features were frozen and if she tried to change her mimic, her whole face would break.
“Well dinner will be ready shortly.”
“Okay, I’ll give Allie a tour in the meanwhile.” Steve nodded his head and saw Bucky and Allison leave the kitchen, holding hands happily.
When she was sure they were both out of sight and hearing, she turned around and carefully slammed her body to Steve, hiding her face in his chest and sighing heavily.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea they were coming tonight.” He spoke quietly only for her to hear.
Y/n shook her head lightly and returned to the cooking. She knew Bucky had a girlfriend, it was about time he brought her to the compound for everyone to meet. No matter how much it hurt to see, Bucky was happy, Allison made him happy, that’s why all y/n was left to do was accept this and move on.
Soon everyone was gathered around the dinning table and Bucky had introduced his girlfriend to the whole team. She was seemingly shy and sweet and had a cute laugh. Bucky would turn to look at her every now and then and his eyes would shine with adoration, a stupid smile never leaving his face.
“It’s disgusting how sweet Bucky is around you.” Sam teased Allison and she giggled; actually giggled in delight like a schoolgirl. Bucky rolled his eyes playfully at Sam but the stupid smile was still plastered on his features, like it had been the whole time.
Y/n only sank further down to her chair, trying to make herself disappear.
She was mindlessly playing with the food in her plate, not having eaten that much, when she heard her name being called.
“Huh?” She picked her head up to look at the people around the table. She was distracted, seemingly lost.
“I said everything is delicious and lasagna is one of Allison’s favorite food.” Bucky repeated his apparently previous words and Allison, who was sitting next to him, nodded her head in agreement.
“Oh well..” y/n tried to muster a smile while speaking. “I’m glad you like it.” Not knowing what else to say she turned her attention again to her almost untouched plate, fiddling with the fork in her hand.
A throat cleared discreetly next to her, and y/n turned her head to the left, eyes meeting Wanda’s.
“Are you okay?” The witch asked in a small voice, only for y/n to listen.
Y/n only hummed in response, knowing she couldn’t lie to the sokovian mind-reader and Wanda let it be.
The dinner passed without much excitement, only light chatter around the table and when they were all finished eating, they moved to the common areas, carrying the conversation there.
Y/n stayed behind with the excuse of cleaning up and Allison offered to help. After some polite arguing that she was a guest, it was decided that Bucky would help with the cleaning up and dishes.
When they were left alone at the sink, y/n washing and Bucky drying the plates, glasses and cutlery in silence, Bucky decided he couldn’t bare the silence anymore.
He nudged her shoulder lightly to gain her attention and she turned her eyes to look at him in a questioning manner.
“You ok?” He asked hesitantly and she only nodded, not trusting her voice to speak up.
“Okay.”
The silence was disturbing. Bucky was feeling weirded out by it, yet y/n seemed unaffected, as if she was happy to not speak to him.
“So…” He broke the silence again, not one to resist the awkwardness. “What’d you think of Allison?”
His question caught her off guard, yet she tried to keep her composure, swallowing lightly before answering to him.
“She seems nice.” Her words were simple, but sincere nonetheless, and Bucky was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to say more, so y/n did, never one for turning him down.
“She’s sweet and polite.” Her voice was small, but easy. “And very pretty.”
At those last words Bucky smiled sweetly at her. “And what’s most important she seems to make you happy Buck.”
Y/n sighed silently, having finished speaking.
“She does.” Bucky agreed and y/n couldn’t help it but be happy for her best friend, no matter how much she was hurting inside her heart.
The rest of the work was done in silence, until Allison entered the kitchen to look for Bucky. “It’s actually getting late, baby. Will you take me home?” Her voice was smooth and sweet and the way the word baby slipped from her lips, was so natural, y/n could only find herself unwanted among both of them.
She cleared her throat and excused herself, making a quick way to the common room where the rest of the team was. However she didn’t miss Bucky’s next words, spoken with a sweet suggestiveness.
“Or maybe you could sleep here tonight…”
Y/n actually felt her heart break in her chest as she left the kitchen to join the others.
It was over for her. She had lost Bucky and every chance of him loving her back, not that there was ever any to begin with.
The weeks passed despite the heartbreak and the pain y/n was feeling. She couldn’t stop the time even if she wanted. In the meantime she had thrown herself in endless missions, never catching a breath, never allowing herself more than one day of rest at the compound.
After that night when Bucky had brought Allison to the compound for the first time, she was there more and more, that is why y/n couldn’t bare to be at the compound anymore. Everywhere she moved Bucky would be there with his girlfriend, kissing or cuddling and it was like rubbing salt in the open wound in her chest.
The best option was to stay out of the compound, and what better way than to throw herself on endless missions, away from Bucky and away from his romance with another woman that wasn’t her.
It was a little after 2 in the morning when she opened the door to her room quietly, entering with slow and tired steps. Not turning on the light, the moonlight filtering through the curtains enough to help her see, Y/n threw the duffel bag on the floor at the corner of the room and headed to her bathroom to take a shower.
Almost 15 minutes later, after thoroughly washing her body and hair, she turned off the water and went back to her bedroom, with only a towel around her body and her hair dripping little droplets of water on the floor. She turned to her closet to take out some clean clothes to wear and was about to remove the towel from her body when she heard a throat clearing behind her back.
Startled, she kept a secure hold to the towel before turning around to meet the source of noise and to say that she was surprised to see Bucky sitting on her bed, is an understatement.
“Bucky, fuck!” She couldn’t help the curse that slipped past her lips. “You scared me!”
He got up and walked slowly towards her. “I’m sorry doll. I didn’t mean to.”
He sounded tired, sleepy. She couldn’t place which it was.
“What do you want here? You should be asleep.”
He stopped in front of her, bodies mere centimeters away and his flesh hand moved to touch her cheek lightly. At the contact, her breath hitched and a shudder went down her spine. It had been so long since the last time she had been this close to Bucky, and it was affecting her, not in a good way.
“I heard the shower so I figured you must be back, I just came to check on you.” Now that her eyes were focused on his face, she could make out the dark circles under his eyes. Worry itched at her heart. She couldn’t bear to see him like that.
“Bucky, have you been sleeping well lately?” She asked, concern evident in her voice and Bucky couldn’t help but shake his head affectionately at her question.
She had just come back from a long week mission and she was worried about him. His sweet doll, always taking care of him.
“I’m okay.” He answered, despite it not being the right answer to her question. “Are you ok doll? Are you hurt anywhere?”
She shook her head no and he sighed in relief.
“I missed you.” He spoke quietly after a moment or so and y/n let out a shuddering breath at his words.
She was suddenly aware of how exposed she was in front of him and her cheeks heated up in embarrassment.
“I should get dressed.” She whispered, trying to escape the closeness and the heat he was causing in her.
He only nodded and stepped back, moving to sit on her bed again. Clearly, he wasn’t planning to leave anytime soon.
Y/n quickly picked some clothes from her closet and moved back to the bathroom to get dressed. When she returned to the bedroom a few minutes later, she found Bucky laid down on the bed, waiting for her to join him.
She didn’t hesitate to do so, craving the softness of her own bed so badly, his presence was just a bonus at this point.
“What is going on Buck?” She asked him when she laid down beside him. He didn’t speak, just kept staring at her face, as if he was trying to memorize her features under the moonlight.
“You look tired.” She continued speaking when he didn’t. “Is everything okay? Where is Allison?” At the mention of her name, Bucky stiffened and averted his eyes from her face to anywhere else he could only to avoid her questioning look.
Her hand came up to rest on his neck, thumb lightly brushing against his jaw and Bucky let out a long breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Talk to me…” She pleaded, voice low and broken and that seemed to work for him, because he met her eyes again before speaking.
“She’s at her place. I haven’t been sleeping well these last few nights so I asked her to go to hers tonight.” He explained.
It was strange, Bucky knew. For the whole past month, especially the last week when y/n had been on her mission, he had trouble sleeping, nightmares disrupting his rest. He would wake up next to Allison, drenched in sweat and get up from the bed trying not to wake her up.
The last night he had a nightmare though, he was thrashing and moving around while living in his sleep the terrors of a past life he was trying so desperately to forget.
Allison stirred awake from all that moving and thrashing and she tried to wake him up, calling his name to bring him out of the nightmare. When he woke up though, he did so with a shout of a name she wished she didn’t hear.
“Y/n!”
His eyes were open in an instant and he was hyperventilating, while Allison was terrified of his state.
She tried to calm her beating heart before talking to him again.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse as he spoke the words. “I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating but didn’t dare go close to her.
When his breathing evened out a little, he got up from the bed and took off his damp shirt.
“Go back to sleep.” He told her. “I’m going to head to the gym.”
He felt bad for lying to her but there was no way Bucky could tell to his girlfriend that he was going to sleep on y/n’s bed.
He made his way to her room slowly and when he entered it, he didn’t hesitate to lay down in her bed, immediately his nose picking up her scent on her pillows and sheets.
Bucky let out a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, trying to imagine y/n close to him, helping him calm down from the nightmare he had, just like she had done a thousand times before.
Y/n kept stroking his skin gingerly with her fingertips, as if she was scared to hurt him. She couldn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to reply. Bucky nuzzled his face in her hand and closed his eyes.
“I missed you so much.” He repeated his words from earlier and kissed the palm of her hand. With her feather-light caresses he fell asleep shortly after, his breathing evening out and becoming steadier and deeper.
“I missed you too. So much.” She whispered back to him and let the sleep overcome her senses too.
Y/n knew Bucky would be out of her room before she woke up, just like he had done the last time he was there, so she prepared herself for that scenario. However, what she wasn’t prepared for, was waking up the next morning and finding herself trapped in his arms, her back to his chest, his face hidden behind her neck and his arms around her middle.
She felt him stir behind her body and unconsciously tighten his hold on her, mumbling incoherent words on her skin. It rose goosebumps all over her body and she couldn’t help but blush at the thoughts that were entering her mind.
She remembered though, that Bucky was still the man of another woman.
Also, he had slept the entire time like a baby, never once stirring in his sleep in displeasure or pain. That made a smile bloom in y/n’s face.
She eased her mind and let herself fall asleep again in the comfort of Bucky’s arms, deciding she would worry about the other things later.
The next time they saw each other, it was a little more than a week later. Allison had returned to the tower a couple of more times, until tonight she decided to spend the night there with Bucky.
However, it all went to shit when he started having a nightmare, a little after midnight. His cries were loud and Allison was startled awake, but she couldn’t do anything to calm him down. She ran out of the room, knocking on the door next to her, calling out for help.
Y/n opened her door, half asleep, but was quickly on alert when she saw Allison scared and tired.
“He’s having another nightmare. Please, you can help him.” Her voice was shaking and y/n felt bad for the poor girl.
Without wasting another second she made a quick walk to Bucky’s room, only to be met with his still sleeping form, thrashing on the bed and crying out in agony.
She ran immediately to his bed. With a calm composure, she placed her hands gently on his shoulders, shaking him lightly and speaking softly to him.
“Bucky, it’s okay. You’re safe. Please, wake up.” Her words were soothing and she kept repeating them, until he woke up with a start, looking frantically around the room until his eyes met her face, half hovering over him.
“Y/n.” His hands found their way to her waist, encircling behind her back and bringing her down on him in a hug.
“It’s okay Bucky, it’s okay. You’re safe now. It’s over.” One of her hands was resting on his chest while the other moved up to his face, moving the hair from his face, then resting on his cheek.
Allison was watching them from the end of the bed. They were both so lost in each other, they had totally forgot about her presence in the room. It all seemed so natural between them, something she could never have with Bucky.
“Doll…” She heard Bucky’s voice call out for y/n and she knew there was no place there for her.
She softly cleared her throat and y/n was the first to turn around to meet her eye, looking embarrassed from the situation. She distanced herself from Bucky and tried getting up from the bed.
“I’m sorry.” She spoke quickly. “He’s awake now. I’m going to leave.”
But Allison only shook her head. She knew what had to be done.
“No no, I’m the one who should go.” Her voice was calm and sincere, not an ounce of malice in her tone despite the hurt that was evident in her eyes.
Bucky got up from the bed and looked at her too. At least he had the decency to look somewhat ashamed, but Allison only smiled a sweet smile at him.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t who you needed me to be.” Her words were rushed out before he could say anything.
“I wish you both happiness. I truly do.”
With that she was out of the room and also out of their lives.
Y/n who was sitting now on the bed shifted awkwardly in her place.
“Are you okay?” She asked and Bucky could only nod in response.
“I’m going back to my room then.” And without waiting for an answer from him, she left his room too, leaving Bucky alone with the aftermath of a nightmare and the weigh of his thoughts.
Allison had left, and rightfully so. Lately more than ever, he noticed he didn’t feel anything for her, at least not what a boyfriend should feel for his girlfriend. It was for the best. He didn’t want to lie to her and keep her hopes up with a failed relationship. She was an amazing woman who deserved so much more than him. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath.
Y/n had also left. Now that was something he really had to think about. Y/n had been present in his nightmares almost every night since they came back to him, and only now could he see maybe that was a way of his unconsciousness warning him to do something about it before he lost her for real.
He didn’t know why though. Y/n was his friend. His best friend. Had been so for years now, so why would he feel the fear of having her slip away from his grasp? Suddenly the realization hit him like a wall of bricks.
It was like a window was opened in a dark room and all the light was finally inside, showing him what he had been missing all this time.
Now he knew why she was the only one who could make him feel happy when he was sad or upset. Why she could soothe his pain with the faintest of touches of her fingers, why she made him feel at peace, day and night. He finally knew what was that nagging feeling he got every time he saw Steve close to her and what were those butterflies in his stomach whenever he was close to her. His eyes fluttered close for a millisecond, allowing himself to absorb all this newfound information, then he got up from his bed quickly, sprinting to her room.
Without even knocking, he opened her door and found her laying down, silently sniffling with he head under the blanket.
When she heard the door open she picked her head up to look at him. “Bucky what are you doing here?” Her voice was hoarse and her eyes were red and puffy from the crying. Bucky hated himself for doing this to her.
He had done it for at least the last 5 months while he was with Allison, and he had done it before when he was an oblivious little shit towards her feelings.
He didn’t answer with words but decided to speak with actions for at least once in his life. He got in the bed with her, laid down beside her and collected her in his arms, cuddling her close to his body.
She picked her head up to meet his eyes. “Bucky?” She spoke his name in barely a whisper and he only looked at her face with adoration.
How could he not see it all this time?
“Y/n.” His voice was smooth, almost dreamy and she couldn’t believe he was there with her.
“Hmm..”
“I love you.”
Those three words were said with the most certainty he could ever possess.
Y/n blinked in disbelief once, twice, before he decided to put her out of her misery and slam his mouth on hers with a passionate kiss.
As their lips molded together as if they were perfectly made for each other, Bucky kept asking himself why he had wasted all this time away from her.
Their kiss grew deeper and he positioned her body on top of his, his hands resting on her waist, just feeling the exposed skin from the high ridden shirt.
When the need for oxygen became too much, they stopped kissing, but neither moved away from the other, foreheads resting against each other. Y/n was still dumbstruck from the kiss, she couldn’t bring herself to mutter out a single word. That’s why Bucky resumed speaking again.
“I’m sorry for everything, for every time I hurt you. Y/n, I know I don’t deserve you but I love you.” He spoke in a breathless manner. “I love you so much and I’ll be damned if I ever let you go.”
When she still didn’t speak, he was starting to grow a little worried.
“This is the time you say something doll. Anything would do.”
She finally chuckled in response at his last words and decided to not ruin the moment with any word she might want to say, so she kissed him again. This time it was her who was in control of the kiss and Bucky was left once again breathless when she pulled away from him.
“Huh?” He let out in a short amazed breath.
“Well you were the one who said anything would do.” Y/n spoke up playfully and he pinched playfully at her waist, capturing her lips once again in a heated kiss.
Sure, they had a lot to talk about, but all of that had to wait for tomorrow, because tonight the only plan was to smother one another in kisses that were due forever ago.
#gallifreys700#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagines
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Hogwarts Sorting Profile: Max Russo
So, confession time: Initially, I wasn’t actually planning on writing one of these for him. I’m sorry! I love Max, but he’s often in the background of Wizards of Waverly Place and just has these really random plots thrown in his direction, rather than interesting character-exploration-type shit like the main sibs. (Which, to be fair, is probably why some of y’all might be curious what I’m going to say about him.)
But I was thinking about what makes Max so odd as a character, and specifically I was thinking about him in comparison to other characters of his archetype in the Disney Channel-verse. Because we’ve seen the messy, funny, underachieving brother character a lot, but they come in very different flavors. Part of that for Max is that he shares some of those traits with Alex in contrast to the overachieving, overly serious Justin, but part of that is… Max often seems to be in his own little world, incomprehensible to mortals and wizards alike, and generally takes in the “real-world” around him with a shrug. He still cares about the “real-world” when it suits him, but he’s often kind of divorced from it, and that discovery fascinated me. Furthermore, it made his Sorting “click.”
We’ll start off easy: what does Max do? The answer is… he’ll do pretty much anything. He’s not a Burned Secondary, though, he just doesn’t give a fuck. Max is every bit the Slytherin Secondary that Alex is, we just don’t usually notice because he spends most of his time in his Neutral State.
The Slytherin Secondary’s Neutral State is blunt, rough, and often unphased by stepping on people’s toes. It’s easy to mistake this for a Gryffindor Secondary’s honesty, but it comes from a different place: comfort, relaxation, and/or apathy. It doesn’t inspire or motivate so much as sit back and do as it pleases, and the Neutral State’s honesty is there for convenience rather than necessity— if a different tactic will work better, a Slytherin Secondary can ditch their honesty and change direction far more easily than a Gryffindor Secondary.
Max isn’t exactly shy about saying what’s on his mind, even if it’s usually dismissed as nonsense. He also does seem to charge into situations without a care sometimes, but that’s the thing: he’s able to charge into those situations because he doesn’t care. When he tests out the zombies’ No-Fear Ring, it doesn’t work on him because he’s already fearless. So while some Slytherin Secondaries are nervous about showing their honesty to others and only show their Neutral State when they’re home safe with people they’re comfortable with, Max lives in his honest Neutral State because he feels comfortable and safe most of the time… even in situations where he really, really shouldn’t.
Curiously, one situation where he doesn’t feel comfortable or safe has very little to do with actual danger, but about personal identity: when he’s turned into Maxine. And in Maxine’s body, he’s a lot more manipulative.
“You know, I can’t help it if people think I’m cute. Watch how I make it work for me.”
As Maxine, he uses his cuteness to get out of chores, to get revenge on Alex and Justin in karate, to guilt dishonest customers out of cheating his parents, and comes up with a plan to talk his “boy self” up to a girl he likes as Maxine so that she’ll like him when he changes back. Yeah, can’t imagine why Maxine reminded Jerry and Theresa so much of Alex…
But there are Slytherin Secondary indications from Max in his usual form as well.
He has no qualms about outright lying — inventing a fake illness to get out of P.E., pretending to be “Tom Sawyer” so he wouldn’t be embarrassed by/compared to his family — but he prefers obfuscation, aka confusing people with his “Max-ness.”
“How do you get your brother to say what’s really on his mind?”
“Oh, I use randomness.”
“What?”
“Well, I just say random things and while people are trying to figure it out, they say stuff that’s on their mind.”
One example of this tactic being employed successfully is with the Genie. While Alex fails to outsmart the Genie using her quick wits, as the Genie is every bit as cunning as her, Max figures out a way to piss off the Genie enough to blackmail her, then talks circles around her and confuses her until she reveals a way for them to undo her wishes. Alex calls it “outdumbing” her, but in any case, he succeeded where she failed, and showed that he’s more capable than often assumed.
We get another rare moment of clarity from Max during “Alex Tells The World.”
“Alex, you know you can’t reveal magic!”
“Oh, even I know that. That’s why I just make people think I’m dumb so if I slip up, ehh, they figure, the kid’s an idiot. And I slip up all the time, so. Who’s dumb now?”
Max’s admission that he “slips up all the time” isn’t exactly reassuring, but it is telling that he’s the only one who doesn’t reveal magic during both the Season 4 Premiere and the Season 3 Finale. Perhaps it was dumb luck that got him there, but I think there’s more to it than that. There’s a method to his madness. There’s a logic to it, even if Max’s logic often doesn’t follow all the way through.
Which leads me to his Primary— Ravenclaw. (LOOK I KNOW. HEAR ME OUT.)
Yes, Max is often seen as “the dumb one.” Yes, Ravenclaws are perceived as “the smart house.” And while I’ve just demonstrated that there’s a brain under all the Max weirdness, I’m not about to argue that he’s secretly a genius. He misses the mark more often than he hits it, and oftentimes when he hits it, it’s through coincidence or dumb luck or Insane Troll Logic that’s impossible for anyone but Max to follow. But I do believe he operates on logic, just his own wacky version of it.
The thing about Max is that he’s neither as dumb as most people think he is, nor is he as smart as he thinks he is. He’s somewhere in between, and the fact that people never quite know where exactly he falls on that scale is kind of the point.
In fact, part of the reason I struggled with Max was because I was trying to figure out where exactly he did fit in:
He can be selfish enough at times to argue Slytherin Primary, the stereotypically “selfish” House, but he’s missing Justin’s protective streak. He doesn’t feel that same sense of duty towards his family that Justin does; when Mason breaks Alex’s heart in “Wizards vs. Werewolves,” Justin turns on him instantly because he Hurt His Little Sister And Is Therefore Bad, while Max is the one most willing to give Mason a chance, because he has his own reasons for wanting Mason in his life. Yet, he still clearly cares enough about his family to rule out the possibility that they don’t factor into his morality at all, not to mention how easy it is for them to influence him.
His more humble ending of inheriting his father’s sub shop might make people think Hufflepuff Primary, but there’s even less justification for such a sorting upon scrutiny. As I’ve touched on above, the staunch loyalty to community isn’t all that important to him, and he’s also not all that into traditions. There’s no compulsion to help strangers, he doesn’t really make enemies but he kind of just ignores people he doesn’t like (or shatters them in a million pieces on accident), and let’s not forget that he unleashed countless monsters in New York City that killed all the Monster Hunters just to win the competition… even if he did do it when his Conscience was separate from the rest of him. Not exactly behavior you’d expect from the morality system of “a person’s a person no matter how small.”
Speaking of Conscience, it’s notable that he argues with it, rather than accepting his advice. I’m still a little unclear as to how much this matters (there’s definitely room to argue that most of his brain went into Conscience as well, and that whole plotline was… weird), but even with his Conscience inside his body, he seems to lack that moral drive Alex has. Gryffindor Primaries have this embedded sense of justice deep within their characters. Even when it’s hidden most of the time, like in Alex’s case, or when it becomes twisted into something dark and dangerous, or becomes Stripped of its certainty, there’s still this sense that there is Right and Wrong in this world, that trusting your gut should lead you to the right conclusion, and that it’s wrong to ignore it. I have a hard time remembering if there’s really any situation where Max gets that gut feeling of Something Being Wrong at all, much less acting on it with a Heroic Plan… at least, not without convincing.
But Max can be convinced, and that’s key. Alex often takes advantage of this to manipulate him for her own selfish ends, such as talking him into paying her for handing out fliers to her zombie prom, but more often it’s his parents that act as his voice of reason, whether it’s convincing him to go after the “deli robber,” convincing him to give his siblings a fair shot at the Wizard Competition, or convincing him to tell his girlfriend the truth… and then unconvincing him of that when he takes it too literally and tells her he’s a wizard.
Actually, Max is prone to misinterpreting advice in this way while trying to follow it to the letter— he does this when he tries to sell fountain water with a puppy, as well, because his mom told him to “add something to it.” I think he is, to an extent, aware of his own intellectual limits. He knows he misses the mark a lot of the time, so he’s often willing to trust other people’s judgment over his own, so long as they can get it through to him in a way that he thinks makes sense.
But beyond that, he’s often willing to question “common knowledge” in a way the other characters don’t. When Justin tries to tell him he can’t make life out of the stuff from his room, he simply replies, “Where’s it say that?” In season 4, when there’s a distinct possibility that he’ll win the competition, he expands the sub shop business by making the Wizard Portal into a Drive-Thru, which genuinely worked as a business plan until Jerry took it too far. Later that season, he saves his siblings by creating a black hole and then jumping through it to pull them to safety from the black hole in Alex’s apartment. Like, that was his idea. He came up with that. It was weird, it was risky, it was unconventional, it could’ve been incredibly stupid… and it worked.
And that’s what I keep coming back to with this Ravenclaw Primary sorting— that sense of ingenuity, curiosity, and the willingness to experiment. On one hand, you have your System Claws, who are dedicated to The Rules because they’ve been convinced that living by them is The Best Way To Live, and on the other hand, you have those that are willing to challenge conventional wisdom and try new things. It’s this willingness to question that I personally attribute to a Ravenclaw mentality, rather than inherent intellectual ability or a large knowledgebase. While Max may not have the latter, he has the former in spades, and that, more than anything, is really what told me that he truly belongs here.
Conclusion:
Max Russo is a Ravenclaw Primary and a Slytherin Secondary.
As a Slytherin Secondary, Max often likes to confuse and obfuscate to get what he wants, is flexible in his methods, and can even be manipulative when he wants to be. He’s also relatively comfortable with himself, thus he often lives in a Neutral State where he says whatever’s on his mind without thinking much about danger or whether he’ll be understood.
His Ravenclaw Primary is as curious as it is undefined, and operates on a logic that only Max truly understands. While this leads him astray more often than not, this also allows him to break from tradition and try new things, and this unconventional thinking can sometimes lead to better solutions than anyone else could’ve come up with. However, it also comes with a set of brakes in the form of taking input from others. It’s not always easy to get through to Max, but he can be reasoned with, which in his case, is probably for the best.
In this combination, we find a character who truly dances to the beat of his own drum. As the most flexible Secondary and Primary, respectively, Max is a conundrum to most who meet him, confusing even to those who know him best. That said, being the Russo who “goes with the flow” the most often, he’s also probably the Russo that has the most fun. He’s certainly more fun to write about than I was expecting him to be! I’m glad I did, and it’s good to be back.
#sortinghatchats#max russo#wizards of waverly place#house sorting#hogwarts houses#wowp analysis#character analysis#sorting profiles#this one's kinda long but i think it might actually be a little shorter than the alex one#so not too bad#might be about the same; not sure#in any case:#long post#(very very)#harry potter#(sorta)
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